#dont k word me yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

China blocked Tumblr because of pornography and censorship problems in 2013.

watersunairmoon · 1 month

Text

cw: dom!(?)sukuna, choking, smut, degrading, kind of sweet sukuna at the end (cause im delusional) (i could fix him okay)

okay but modern!au Sukuna would totally be into some choking and impact play. Not only on you but on him as well. Dont get it twisted though, he’s still 100% the one in control, but i think he’d like it just cause it gives him that extra little shot of adrenaline to fuck you even harder.

The first time you realize he likes your hands around his throat was a complete accident.

Hes leaned back against the bed in your shared apartment, blankets and sheets scattered everywhere, nearly falling into the floor from all the fucking and rolling around going on between you two for the last 30 minutes. Youre already out of it at this point, eyes rolling into the back of your head while you bounce and grind on his length, the only things grounding you are your hands pressed firmly against his chest to support your body and his fingers leaving a bruising grip on your hips.

“mmm, ‘kuna, y-youre so deep like this” you whimper out, momentarily glancing down only to see the wide smirk plastered on Sukunas face. He always looked so good like this, eyes lidded, filled with desire, and body covered with a light sheen of sweat that seemed to only enhance his well defined body. He looked delicious.

“yeah?,” he replied, cocking his head to the side a bit as he glanced up at you, his large hands on your hips tightening as they helped you slam your hips against his. “y’ takin this cock so well princess,” he almost moaned, feeling you clench around his length from his praise. “but you can do better than that, hmm? Go faster.” Dominance laced in his tone, you were in no position to disobey, but your thighs were already burning from the workout, shaky and weak as you kept your current pace.

“mmm… but ‘k-kuna, im tired…” you whined, looking down at him with a small pout, even slowing down slightly to try to prove your point. As if it wasnt already obvious, Sukuna could clearly feel your thighs tremble with every move you made, but pushing your body to its limit was part of the fun, no? He loved to see how much you could take.

As he removed his hands from your hips, you sighed in relief, thinking he was going to switch positions and give you a break, but this thought was quickly proven incorrect when you felt his grip on your jaw, tugging you down so you were face level with him. A gasp left your lips and your eyes widened, looking dead into his. Not an ounce of amusement behind them as he glared at you.

“Did i ask if you were fucking tired?” his grip on your jaw tightened.

“Ah! N-no i-“

“What did i say? hm?”

“You said g-go fa-“

“Go faster. Thats right. Not bitch and complain. Now get to it. And dont make me repeat myself again.” And with that he pushed you back up, one hand returning to its rightful place on your waist, and the other lounging behind his head, watching you expectantly. “whining like a fucking whore…” he grumbled, loud enough to ensure you could hear. He couldnt help but to grin a bit, feeling your walls tighten and pulse around him, yet the pout on your face remained as evident as ever, lower lip poked out and eyes glossy. “Oh, dont look at me like that baby,” he cooed, looking up at you with an almost taunting expression. “I can feel your tight little cunt squeeze me every time i get mean…” His hand on your waist slowly made its way to your lower stomach, placing his palm flat against it and reaching his thumb down to rub little circles on your clit, causing a light moan to escape your throat. “Thats how i know you really are a little slut. Now be a good one and do as your told, yeah?”

God, he had such a filthy mouth, but youd be lying if you said you didnt love every second of it. Every word and groan that ever left his mouth during moments like these always went straight to your core, upping the wetness that was already dripping down his balls and making a mess on the sheets below you. So of course, you do what youre told, starting with a roll and grind of your hips, relishing in the way his dick massages the deepest parts inside of you before you start bouncing once again. Skin hitting skin with little pap! sounds every time your ass meets his thighs. And just as he demanded, you go faster than before, rapidly losing yourself in the feeling of him rearranging your organs.

“sh-shit, ‘s so good” you slurred, nails slightly digging into his chest from how fucking good he felt. Even with the aching of your thighs, you couldnt deny that riding him like this felt amazing. You tossed your head back, more little mewls and gasps left your mouth, so focused on his length that you didnt even notice how sweaty your hands were getting. With every ricochet of your hips, they slipped a little farther up his chest, making their way past his sharp collar bones, until they were quite literally around his throat, using his neck as support for your body weight.

You could feel Sukuna starting to lift his hips to meet yours half way, deepening the thrusts and making them feel more intense than before, making your eyes roll back and your moans grow louder. You almost didnt even notice the moan Sukuna let out, and honestly you probably wouldnt have if it was a normal occurrence. Sukuna usually did make small noises during sex, mainly just grunts and small groans, but this was a moan, like you had never heard from him before. A fucked out grin made its way to your face, proud of yourself for pulling such a sound from him, but when you finally dropped your chin to meet his eyes, you would have sworn you could have came right then.

Hands wrapped tightly around his neck, face a bit red from the lack of oxygen, pupils blown out, and his lips parted in a small ‘o’, you were shocked to see that he seemed to be… enjoying? getting choked? You really had to do a double take over his features to make sure what you saw wasnt just some sex-induced illusion that you were having. Sukuna had never mentioned being against being choked, but with his dominant personality you would have never thought hed enjoy it this much.

“S-Sukuna-“

“Harder.”

This caught you off guard even more, eyes widening and slowing your hips down to take in what he just requested of you. “Wha-“

“If youre gonna choke me, then fucking do it right” he growled, narrowing his eyes at you. He must have been a little embarrassed at this new kink the two of you had discovered, seeing as the more you looked at him with this ‘holy shit no way’ look you had plastered on your face, the more he seethed. He took this moment to bend his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed and thrusting up harshly into you, making you cry out and fall forward a bit. Sukuna grabbed your thoat, pulling you down to the same spot he had you in earlier, this time squeezing your neck brutally between both of his large hands, and continuing to use your current position to piston his hips into you at an inhuman rate, making your jaw drop and your brows furrow with pleasure as you looked at him.

“You too fuckin stupid to know how to do that? huh? Gotta be reminded what it feels like to get choked the fuck out?” He held you right in front of his face while he roughly fucked into you, broken moans and fragments of his name falling from your lips from his aggressive hips and how tight his grip on your neck was. “Yeah baby, use that dumb little brain of yours. You remember now? Huh? Fucking do it.” He spat at you, pulling you to meet his lips for a sloppy kiss.

You quickly tightened your grip, both of you know moaning into each others mouths, choking each other while he jackhammered into your cunt. He broke the kiss to tip his head back, closing his eyes and getting lost in this feeling of the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain and how wet you were getting from all of this, his own precum adding to the sticky mess of bodily fluids between you two. He was just as surprised as you were that he was into this, and when your hands had first slid around his neck, he almost made you move them. But even he couldnt deny that it felt good, and not to mention you looked so hot on top of him, he really didnt have the heart or will to interrupt- and now he was extremely glad he didnt.

High pitched squeals and squeaks forced their way through your throat from the abuse he was showing your core, absolutely no mercy as he fucked his way past your cervix, causing your legs to shake violently and that familiar feeling in your lower belly to grow with every passing second. Sukuna could easily tell from your heat tightening around him so much it was slowing his thrusts down, and from how much harder you were squeezing his neck without even realizing. But the asphyxiation was just riling him on even more, biting his lip between his teeth as he watched you start to crumble.

“‘Kuna! A-ah! ohmygod-d!” Your body began to twitch, hips now moving against his to bring you closer to your high even faster, chasing after it. Neither of you loosening your grips on the other, making the whole thing feel like some drug induced high, too caught up in your own pleasures to even think about lightening up your holds.

“F-fuck! Suckin’ me in baby…” Sukuna choked out, also getting dangerously close to his orgasm. “Cum all over this dick, y-yeah, c’mon princess…” He switched the pace of his hips, once moving quickly in and out in and out, were now punching deep, hard, slow thrusts. “C-cum for me”

About 6 deep thrusts in, you finally let go, cumming all over his shaft with the most pathetic cry of his name, a tear or two even rolling down your cheek from how good it felt and how hard he had been holding your throat. As you came, your small hands around his windpipe twitched, releasing their tight grip and allowing all the oxygen to flow to his brain at once. Between this, and feeling your velvety walls contract around him, he couldnt hold it anymore, pumping you full of his seed, moaning, and holding you tightly in place as he fucked his cum deep into your cervix, his clutch on your esophagus not letting up, causing your orgasm to drag out as well.

When he finally finished, he let go, allowing your body to fall against him as you both heaved to catch your breath, chests moving against each other as you gasped oxygen. Your body still lightly shaking as you clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Sukuna snakes his arms around your waist, holding you close to him as you both came down, rubbing your back lovingly as you did. He may be rough in bed, but that doesnt change the fact that youre his love, and he wants to make sure you still know that after all the degrading and aggressiveness. You couldnt help but to giggle a bit as you reflected on what just happened.

“So…”

“Dont. Dont start. Just lay here and be quiet. Dont ruin it.”

“I never would have thought youd like bein-“

“Yeah your done. Hope you enjoyed it cause its never happening again.”

…

it definitely happened again.

// damn my asphyxiation kink really popped out in this one. sorry guys. if this does well i might do a second part with the impact play stuff… we will see. hope you enjoyed though! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3 and if you guys have any requests id love to hear them! i cant promise ill get to everything cause i kinda just do this for fun but i would like to write more! so send em my way babies. have a good day!

#sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna scenarios #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna simp #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fanfic

698 notes · View notes

sohnric · 3 months

Text

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.

warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.

word count: 31k

a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.

spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!

they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)

August 2007

The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.

Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor.

You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school.

Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good.

The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue.

His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.

“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile.

His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging.

Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?

Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.

It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.

“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…”

“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.

“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”

Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus."

“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–”

“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”

The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”

He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…

“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious.

Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?”

Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.

He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.

Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more.

What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego.

“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears.

He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.

“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”

Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.

“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.

The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.

“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine.

“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”

“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin.

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders.

Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”

Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.

Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.

Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.

“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”

His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist.

He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice.

“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.

It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.

“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”

Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.

“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”

Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.

“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.

“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.

“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him.

“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed.

The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.

There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”

“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.

“Hm?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.

“Yes.”

The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.

“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.

“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.

“No.”

“Okay.”

That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.

It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.

Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning.

Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time.

Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.

The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.

Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.

Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.

“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”

“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in.

And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you.

His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.

Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.

He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.

Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.

Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.

can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.

Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied.

I can join!! i could use some froyo

You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.

you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind

The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?

Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.

I just like things to be fair. I came late too :((

He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing.

weirdo.

You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops.

Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”

“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.

“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.

“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth.

You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.

His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life.

“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

He did not.

“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.

“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.

There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.

Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.

In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.

But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.

…maybe his sister was right.

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.

It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad.

What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no?

It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be…

“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.

The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.

“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?”

That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”

“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”

“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.

“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.

“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.

That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”

“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.

“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”

Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”

Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious.

He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.

“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.

“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.

The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.

“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.

“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”

to. my first dance

November 1999

“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”

“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with.

When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him.

Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms?

He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.

Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”

And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position.

But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…?

It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?

Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first?

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male.

“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”

“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.

“Why?”

“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”

The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go.

“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.

“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks.

“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”

Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position.

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.

“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”

“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.

The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure.

“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself.

Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity.

“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.

“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)

“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.

“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.

“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.

“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions.

It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.

“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well.

Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.

“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.

He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.

Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”

His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.

Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral.

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room.

Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”

The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.

How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?

to. my first date

January 2000

The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.

Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that.

The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.

Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.

The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.

It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.

“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure.

One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.

He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.

“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.

“It won’t?”

“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.

Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”

There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N.

Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.

“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.

He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.

Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.

There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.

“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his.

The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?

“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.

“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.

Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.

And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.

“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.

“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.

“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Great.”

“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura.

“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.

The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.

Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact.

He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.

“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.

Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)

“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.

Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek.

That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.

“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”

Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be.

“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)

“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest.

Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.

Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.

August 2007

It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.

Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go.

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right?

It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago.

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”

And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.

“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.

“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.

“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.

“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.

“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.

It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.

You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.

“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”

Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.

Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.

“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.

“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”

“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home.

“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll.

“Well, is it any good?”

Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”

“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”

“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.

The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.

“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.

“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries.

“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.

As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.

“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”

Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.

This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?

“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.

“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.

It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again.

So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.

Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think.

“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.

You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.

Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.

There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).

Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.

Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully.

Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.

“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure.

“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.

“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.

“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.

Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.

“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”

“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening.

A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.

“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”

His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious.

“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”

“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.

“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”

Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.

Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”

“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”

“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”

Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”

to. my first kiss

March 2000

His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.

“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.

“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together.

It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.

“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.

“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week.

And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.

“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.

“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions.

“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed.

Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure?

“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)

“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.

“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.

“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.

“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”

“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging.

A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?

“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.

You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.

Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware.

But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.

He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.

“You know what? Just forget–”

“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.

Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving.

Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.

When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.

The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.

Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips.

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.

“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.

And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.

“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more.

He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.

A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.

The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.

“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.

“Was it that ba–”

Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.

He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.

He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.

He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.

Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.

And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,

he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything.

You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.

And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.

August 2007

You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.

You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back.

“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter.

It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome.

“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself.

Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.

But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”

“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.

“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.

“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.

“Anything specific?” he asks.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.

“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.

You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.

The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn��t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter.

He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.

Maybe you have more time now.

The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.

“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.

“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”

“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.

“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?”

“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.

“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”

“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.

Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”

The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”

“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.

“Oh, as if–”

“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.

Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.

“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”

Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.

Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer.

Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.

Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.

Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch.

You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.

A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin.

You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.

“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”

The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past.

“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.

Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.

Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat.

Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.

“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.

“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything… bye!”

Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.

Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.

Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game.

Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.

It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at.

It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.

Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried.

Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you.

His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.

Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.

Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.

The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.

“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.

And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.)

Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.

Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play.

The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.

Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.

“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything.

“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug.

“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious.

You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.

And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)

The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”

A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.

He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit.

And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face.

You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.

“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”

You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.

“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.

That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.

Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.

to. my first lover

August 2000

The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.

He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait.

Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”

You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”

Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life.

Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”

“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.

“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”

“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.

He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.

Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.

Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.

“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture.

“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.

Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features.

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support.

There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.

“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.

The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”

“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.

Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.

“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.

“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”

Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.

“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.

“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”

Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now.

As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?

When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.

Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely.

He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.

He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.

He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close.

Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.

Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin.

Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.

Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting.

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.

“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”

The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you.

“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.

Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.

In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.

to. my first love

September 2000

Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.

Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.

And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.

He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…

Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.

If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain.

If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.

He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all.

He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.

He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.

When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane.

For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.

He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice.

Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house.

“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…

Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.

Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.

When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.

The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?

Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.

When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…

When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again.

He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too.

“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.

Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.

Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?

It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.

What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York.

September 2007

“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”

The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.

You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.

“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.

All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.

And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time.

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment.

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though.

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken.

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you.

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.)

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training.

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content.

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.

#deoboyznet #sunwoo #the boyz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo angst #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo imagine

476 notes · View notes

kana-de · 7 months

Note

UR REQS ARE OPEN OH MY FUCK!!

uhm so hahaha so uhm hahaha giggles..

harbinger!reader x harbinger!scara and reader is a higher rank than scara and just scara just lovesss the fact that he can turn his "superior" into a mess <33

i love ur writing btw, explodes

★ summary: harbinger!scaramouche x harbinger!fem!reader. he loves seeing his lovely superior a whining, crying, moaning mess. and all because of him.

☆ cw: nsfw. reader is the 3rd harbinger (sorry columbina). power play. power kink (?). humiliation (use of 'pathetic', 'whore', 'slut'). use of 'good girl'. overstimulation. multiple orgasms (reader). creampie. implied cunnilingus at the end. scara basically fucks you - a superior harbinger - into oblivion. 757 words.

☾ a/n: oh. my. fucking. god. this is absolutely my fav fic prompt so far, i don't know why i never came up with it... ily kia. i absolutely love the harbinger x harbinger au. dissipates into atoms. i dont want this to flop PLEASE.

in the fatui's eyes, in the harbingers' eyes, in the tsaritsa's eyes you were brighella - the owner - the third harbinger. but in scaramouche's eyes you were...

"what a pathetic slut." scaramouche hisses once you cum on his fingers yet again, a broken whine leaving your lips.

this is only your third orgasm, and you're already looking so fucked out - glassy, teary eyes, flushed face, hair messy and sprawled all over the pillow, voice nearly breaking at each small whine and whimper you make when he curls his digits against your sweet spot, purposely overstimulating you.

"n- not- nghh... 's too much..." you cry out, voice almost raspy because of how often you moaned, throat basically sore.

" 'not' what? not a pathetic little whore?" he taunts, tips of his fingers searching for your cervix, reaching deep inside your cunt, enveloped by your clenching walls. "i didn't even get to stuff you full of my cock, and it's already 'too much'? you're getting weaker, [name]..."

you only have the strength to muffle a mewl that escapes your throat as his fingers leave your cunt, your slick all over his digits as he licks his fingers clean, humming at the thought of how delicious you taste - he'll definitely fuck you with his tongue once more this night. just for confirmation.

"look at yourself. a mess, aren't you?" scaramouche coos into your ear, sending shivers down your spine for the nth time, his hands coming to your hips as he proceeds to lower his mouth to your collarbone, sucking on the skin there - you have no energy to scold him for leaving marks on visible places - making small, violet hickeys, which in the morning will be a pretty bordeaux covering your neck all over.

he chuckles in your other ear, exhaling slowly. "the 3rd of 11, but so, so, so... easy." he taunts you with his sultry voice, a tad bit of mockery in it. he could fuck you into oblivion again and again and again if it meant seeing you in this fucked out state each time.

the next thing you feel is the tip of his cock that presses to the entrance of your pussy, and you let out a low moan, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to bring him closer, your unsteady hands coming to hold his shoulders. he thrusts for the first time, setting a rigid and erratic pace as he grunts into the crook of your neck. you mewl and whine at every thrust of his, basically melting into him.

"f-fuck, look at me, [name]." scaramouche breathes out, one of his hands coming to your face to move away your hand that hides away your flushed face and swollen from biting them lips. he grits his teeth, muffling a moan as he realises how fucking good you feel around his cock. "i want to see this pathetic expression on you for a little longer. keep looking up at me, slut."

"s-scara- k-kuni... mmngh- t' much..." you whinge, feeling his hips slamming into yours frantically. you clench around him even more at his words, letting out a sentence that he's unable to understand because of how your voice breaks into moans every time he thrusts into you. your hands subconsciously squeeze his shoulders a little tighter, nails leaving small scratching marks on his skin, the burning sensation making him groan.

"be a good fucking girl and cum on my cock. you can do that, yeah? c'mon..." scaramouche brings the tips of his fingers to your aching clit, rubbing it in circles as he soon feels your cunt clamp more and more on his length, him hitting your sweet spot just under the right angle.

your eyelids shut closed as you feel another orgasm nearing, erratic breaths leaving your mouth as well as sloppy whimpers and moans. "s-scarascarascarascara- f-fuck- nghh, i'm c-cumming.. cumming, hhah-!.."

you cum just when scaramouche releases inside you, his seed painting the walls of your pussy white. he fucks his cum into you through sloppy thrusts, not letting any drop leak out as you've stopped trying to muffle your little cries and mewls, teary eyes struggling to look up at him.

"the fact that i can turn my superior into a whining, crying, moaning mess is what i wake up for every morning." he says, letting out a breathy laugh, pulling out of you, and wiping away the small tears from the corners of your eyes. "now, spread your legs a bit more, i want to taste that pretty cunt of yours again."

#scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #scara x reader #scara x you #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x you #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kunikuzushi smut

786 notes · View notes

pinkcandyhearts04 · 5 months

Text

morning quickie | johnny cage x reader

johnny has an early morning meeting and you don't want him to leave yet

18+ ACCOUNT AND POST, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

im not 100% fan of no johnny whimpering but this is a quickie, he dont give a damn about NAYTHING

warnings: afab reader!, degradation if you squint, not men whimpering but a 3rd more desperate thing, porn without plot, do not read this if you actually want some story

"leaving already?" johnny glances over his shoulder at you, giving you one of his signature smiles. your arms wrap around his waist as you bury your face into his back, sighing softly as you feel the way his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. "i have a meeting with my manager. he's already pissed of as it is." he chuckles softly, his hand finding one of yours and squeezing it gently. "he can wait a little longer, can't he?" johnny can't help but laugh a bit at that, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. "don't tempt me with a good time. but unless you want us to start taking public transportation, i should go and see what he wants." you pout a bit when johnny manages to leave your grasp, even still turning to press a kiss to your forehead. before he can pull too far away, you grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him with a passion that sends a chill down his spine.

he barely makes any attempt to pull away, a soft grunt leaving him before you break the kiss. a string of saliva connects the two of you, staring into each others eyes; you can see that all too familiar flame, a mischievous smile spreading on your lips. "fuck it. i can make this fast." you can only manage a quiet giggle when johnny kisses you, hard and wanting as he starts to tug off your shorts; he doesn't dare to take off his button down that's practically hanging off of you, a simple piece of fabric doing things to him. you don't make any attempt to stop him or even make him slow down, gasping when two of his fingers start to pump into you fast and without much warning. "fuck, so wet already..it's not even 10 o clock yet." he groans softly, letting your shaky hands start to undo the buckle of his belt. once he's sure you're ready, he wastes no time in flipping you onto your stomach pressing your face into the covers. his free hand holds your hips up as you squirm underneath him, trying to get some friction already.

"shh, let me do this, hot stuff. you wanted this so bad, you enjoy the ride." johnny snickers, collecting some of your wetness on his fingers to stroke over his cock. without a second to think, johnny pushes into you up to the hilt. the two of you moan in unison at the heat growing between you two, making you bury your face into the sheets as he rocks his hips into you with a rough pace from the get-go. soft gasps leave you every time he pushes back into you, your fingers gripping the sheets at the sound of his groans behind you. "fuck, baby, so fucking tight.." he grumbles, his hand holding your head down now trailing to your breasts. he gropes one of them roughly, making your back arch as you start to match his pace with your own hips. "goddamn, feels like you were fucking made for me.." with how erratic he starts to move, you can tell he's close. soft pants leave johnny as you look over your shoulder at him almost the same he had looked at you only moments ago, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes. "w-wanna..cum, wanna cum a-at the same time.." you whine out softly, your pleading voice only further cracking johnny's resolve.

johnny groans as his hand almost instantly moves to your clit, rubbing rough circles against it. that motion alone elicits a loud cry from you, turning to jelly in johnny's hands as the other hand not playing with your clit holds you up. "j-ohnny..." you whine, barely able to make out any words as you feel the coil in you start to unravel. "i k-know, dollface, i know, fuck.." johnny groans, finally letting loose as he presses his hips flush against yours. you let a long, desperate moan when you cum only seconds after johnny, feeling the way he seems to almost endlessly fill you up.

idk how to end this lol, johnny aftercare is not my strong suit although i know he would DEFINITELY BE GOOD AT IT

#mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage mk #johnny cage smut #johnny cage x y/n

271 notes · View notes

ritsufeet · 11 months

Text

stay with me.

longing [ ft. m. kaiser ]

i don’t want u to leave… in which kaiser longs for you more than he thought he would.

k by cigarettes after sex heavily recommend to listen to while reading!!

all works from luvmouche & ritsufeet on tumblr.

𒁷 sfw, (forced to) made for ivelle (@n6gi)

𒁷 cw// hurt comfort(?), kaiser is too busy for u (dickhead), but it gets better i think, mutual longing, kissing smooch smooch, umm idk what else, kaiser tw🤓, “m” is his nickname given by the reader, rly short fic btw, slightly ooc kaiser but yk what idc!

i made this for ivelle this is literally yhe only bllk fic ill ever make (maybe) also i dont even like kaiser (kurona bwtter) i originally made this in my notes app i had to decide whether or not i eveb wanted to post this on tumblrHelp

synopsis: michael kaiser is a cruel, busy man—yet he finds himself pining for your warmth more than he expected.

not proofread!!!

kaiser, michael

your boyfriend, michael kaiser, who’s a famous, up and coming athlete, never has any time for you.

“i’m leaving, i have a meeting today.” he says, hurriedly pushing his shoes on with heavy sighs. you look at him and frown, “again? m, you never have any time for me anymore…”

“i know, but i’ll make it up to you, i promise. just not today, i’m busy.” he huffs, frowning right back at you, his blonde hair sways messily in front of his face and his fingers coming up to brush them up and out of the way again. you frown deepens and you sigh.

he looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “what? what’s wrong with you?” his question only makes you sadder.

“can’t you stay?”

“no, i can’t. you know this. i said i’d make it up to you, didn’t i? trust my word.” you know this, you already know… but you can’t help but already begin to miss him.

he’s often gone for long hours, sometimes it’s more than just hours. it’s hard loving him when he’s absent majority of the time, and when he’s not gone, he’s doing something else that doesn’t involve spending time with you. what could be so important, anyway? of course, you love him, you love his career and support him with everything you can, but he could at least love you a little back.

you slowly walk over to him when he’s finished putting on his shoes. he looks at you with soft eyes, a face that he doesn’t show often. vulnerability that doesn’t come easily to him, something he only shows to you. “i’m sorry,” he says, his hand cupping your cheek. you relish in his touch, leaning into his palm. “i really wish i could stay too. you know that as well as i do.” he caresses your cheek, sliding his thumb over your skin.

“i get it… you should go, you don’t want to be late, right?” you look at him giving a reassuring smile. “i’ll be here, like i always am.” his heart aches as those words leave you, and the urge washes over him. he brings himself to your lips and kisses you—sweet, quick, and loving. he lets himself linger there for as long as he needs to. he doesn’t want to be late, yet he finds himself not wanting to move a single inch away from you. he wants to stay, wants to be here with you and the comfort of your kisses.

you pull away instead, you put your hand right above his—the one caressing your cheek so gently and longingly that you fear that it’d break his heart if he tore it away—and squeeze it. his face is solemn, his gaze wavering. he’s staring at you, but he looks away, as if hesitant to say anything. then, he looks at you again, and purses his lips. “..i love you.” your reassuring smile turns into a genuine one. “i love you too, m.”

he pulls you into a hug, holding you longer than just a few seconds, and he can hear himself the moment he decided to just go ‘ah, fuck it.’ a barely audible chuckle comes from his voice leaving you wondering what’s so funny.

“on second thought, i don’t think they’ll mind if i miss a day or two.” he says, smiling.

a/n: i hope ur happy ivelle. k bye im tired fuckkk

#ritsufeet #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x gn reader #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x male reader #bllk #bllk kaiser #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #kurona better #i dont eceb likr kaiser but yk what Sigh #if this flops i blame ivelle

539 notes · View notes

thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

Note

i LOVE your namor fics and how soft you portray him! i dont even want kids but they got me looking up baby videos on tiktok 😂😂 i was wondering if i could request? i like to imagine namor spending some time in the surface world with reader, maybe something showing him being domestic? im sorry im not very creative lol im sure you know what im getting at. thank you so much!! 🫡🥰

When the sun came up, you were looking at me (Namor x F!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: He showed you a part of himself he chose to hide from the others.

Warning: Nothing really, well I really don’t think there is a warning, just fluff or my idea of fluff

A/N: I'm back!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

You clenched the basket you were carrying, your knuckles white and your breath locked in your lungs as you made your way towards your king’s cavern. You were nervous and afraid, you barely made it through the soft current that guide you upwards, if it was for another reason you would be thrilled to see him. But when the message came from Attuma, his second in command, that changed everything.

You let out your breath when you almost got out of the water, one of your hands quickly went to dig out your mask from the basket you were carrying, quickly putting it on and adjusting it correctly before finally stepping out of the water.

This wasn’t the first time you were invited to his cavern, you were designated to bring him some food if he spent the majority of his time here. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold air that surrounded you. Quickly blinking away some tears that formed when your eyes became a little too dry. Your hands hugged the basket closer to your body as you slowly walked to the entrance. Even if you hadn’t yet to enter, you could still distinguish his figure, his focus away from you.

You stretched your shoulders, stopping at the entrance, it had been a few days since Attuma had delivered the message, you knew you needed to see him as quickly as possible but you managed to postponed it, until the older women forced you to finally confront the king.

Your hand knocked against the stone wall, the softest sound that made the king stopped his actions to turned and put his attention on your figure. You swallowed when his intense dark eyes greeted you.

“Ta p'ataj a k'iin.” You took your time. He stood up, silently putting his tools on the ground before making his way to you. “Ts'o'ok in pensado u ma' ten taal.” I have thought you were not coming.

Your eyes stayed glued to your basket, too afraid to even look at him. “In akaljantik.” I’m sorry. You gulped. “In akaljantik, K'uk'ulkan, ma' táan u yúuchul.” I’m sorry, K’uk’ulkan, it won’t happened again.

He hummed, his hands went to your jaw, gently caressing it before softly guiding your gaze to look at him, you were hoping to find anger on his eyes, but you almost gasp at how gentle they were. “A llamé waye' tumen ba'al, chan.” I called you here for something, little one. “Ba'al Páaybe'en.” Something important.

Namor’s hands let your face for a moment, his form fully turn away from you, leaving you a bit confuse. He walked towards one of the several baskets, pulling out a small yellow flower. Your eyes widened in fear, fully knowing where it come from. He turned to you, the flower firmly on his fist, his dark eyes were inspecting it and the silence made you tremble with fear.

“Namora ka tu kaxtaj ti' a ba'alo'ob,” Namora found it on your things. He didn’t look at you, his fingers playing with the several petals that covered it. “Le ba'ala' ma' pertenece u k noj, u tsool, chan.” This does not belong in our city, explain, little one.

A sick feeling filled your stomach as you clutched the basket closer to your body, the words couldn’t even form on your tongue, even though million of excuses were forming on your head. What could you say? That you made your way to the surface? That you were so selfish that you broke the rules for your own amusement? That you broke his rules and put at risk not only your person but every single one of the others?

Your form began to tremble, you didn’t know if it was from the air that cooled your form or simply the fear of not knowing what your punishment would be.

Namor noticed the shakiness of your form, he frown, not really wanting to put you on this situation, he silently took away the basket of your hands, placing instead the flower you desperately wanted to hide from everyone else. Your fingers didn’t grasped it tightly as he did so his fingers closed around your hands. He smiled at you softly, trying to ease you back to comfort. “Ma' taak ka'ach in a asustaras, mix mix.” I didn’t want to scare you, far from it. One hand left yours and placed it on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

“K'uk'ulkan.” You closed your eyes, trying so hard to not break down in front of him. “Teene'…” I…

He shushed you gently. “In wojel.” I know. He whispered, his eyes looking at the flower. “A wojel wáaj bix u k'aaba' le nikte'o'?” Do you know what this flower is called?

“Ka tin kaxtaj way.” I found it on the surface. You shook your head. “Tin tukultaje’ jats’uts.” I thought it was pretty.

Namor hummed, you almost closed your eyes at the sound. “U k'aaba' cempasúchil.” It’s called cempasúchil. He whispered. “Le nikte'o' le pixan.” The flower of the dead. You gasped in horror, trying to drop the flower but his hand didn’t let you. He quietly laughed at your action. “Mix taan u kíinsikech.” It will not kill you.

You stared at the flower -and him- weirdly, trying to understand how this tiny flower had that huge significance. He grabbed your chin and guide you to look at him once again. “I could show you, but the place I could take you do not speak our language, have you practiced your English?”

“Yes.” You bit your lip. “I am not good still.”

He shook his head smiling. “It does not matter.”

Namor guide you to the surface, carefully explaining you how you needed to blend yourselves from the surface-dwellers, you nodded along his words, but when the both of you finally made your way to the beach, he noticed how your skin turned blue, he frowned, not because of the color, but because he knew that if they saw it, you would be taken away from him and that made something stir inside of his body.

His eyes found a piece of clothe that perhaps belonged to someone else but he didn’t care. Namor grabbed it and helped you put it on, it didn’t do much but he was more at ease. He grabbed your hand and tugged you softly, making your way to the festivities, and as best as he could, Namor explained everything.

Like a child full in wonder, your eyes tried to take as much as you could, every single light, every single smell, everything was so captivating to you that you couldn’t care less if some surface-dwellers were throwing glances at the bluish-tone your skin was taking.

Then, some form of lights began exploding on the skies, making you gasp in surprise, your body sticking closer to your king, who gladly welcomed your touch without any complain. Your eyes never leaving the skies, how the colors were changing with each explosion, it made you giddy, it made you feel like you were a child once again.

Namor felt the soft tapping on his arm, his eyes quickly turning to it, a small child offered him a smile, a few teeth missing on the front, tiny hands trying to place a small object on his hands, he gratefully accepted it with a nod. The child left and Namor inspected it carefully before gently placing it on your hands.

You watched it with wonder. The object providing you with a gentle warm that made you smile, you tried to touch it but it burned you, making you quietly hiss but not throwing it away.

Namor was about to take it away from your hands as it hurt you, but when you turned to look at him something inside him made him stop. The object created a soft glow that caressed the bluish of your skin. You looked beautiful, like a painting he spent hours creating on the loneliness of his cavern, and when your eyes softly closed, he knew you were smiling under the layer of cloth he helped you put on to disguised yourself from the others. He couldn’t look away and even if he could, in that moment, he chose not to.

#namor #mcu namor #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x reader #namor imagine #namor fluff #namor fic #namor fanfiction #k'uk'ulkan #kukulcan #tenoch huerta #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #namor of talokan #namor of talokan imagine #black panther imagine

1K notes · View notes

strwbwoo · 8 months

Text

bunny

cw : konig x reader , smut , profanity , hair pulling , semi public sex , raw penetration (dont do it) ; pet names (sweet cakes , baby , kitten , hun , bunny , little girl , sweat heart , pretty girl) orgasm denial (once) , brat reader, degradation kink.. , begging , thigh fucking , alot of dirty talk , dumbifacation.. , exes to.. hook up , .7k (i got lazy)

an : this is dedicated to my friend ; i dont know much about this man (konig) but hot mask rigtht?

going to a halloween party yet konig was the last person youd think you would see. his eyes lazily open behind his cloth mask, his mysterious aura strangely turns on anybody, even if you dated that dick for 3 months,

“hey sweet cakes, didnt expect you here..” he chuckles but you scoff, “ditto.” attitude evident in your tone. “talking back to me kitten? that isnt like you” you roll your eyes, “tsk we over konig remember? im not your kitten” you grumble and he grumbles back, “ watch yer mouth, remember who yer talking to baby?” ugh youve learned to hate how he says endearing words.

or have you? cramped in the small half bathroom of the party, halloween decor over the mirror, regular bulb replaced with dark red led lights. where your body suit was supposed to cover your cunnie was placed to the side, exposing your slit to the cold air

“wanna think abt what you said princess?” thrusting hard with every word, only moans fall out of your slut mouth “hm? baby got nothing in her head?” knocking he seasons special pumpkin scented soap off the counter, “i didnt do an- anything wrong..”

“aww such a klutz, tsk cant do anything right can you?” gripping the back of your hair; close to your scalp, forcing you to look in the mirror in front of you, “look at you, youre pathetic baby…” its not fair that he knew what your body needed, “just admit it baby, then i can take care of you..” his voice hinted with sincerity but when could you ever tell if it was genuine or not

“please kon.. “ an old nickname you gave him while dating, “fuck- tell me what you need kitten..or should i say bunny?” he snickered; squeezing the cotton fluff on the butt of your body suit but your headband was nowhere to be found. you mewl so desperately- so bunny like, “i- i need you..” only to whine sliding his dick all the way out, clenching on nothing until he bottoms out again, not giving you time to adjust, “fuck baby, yer so wet” he chuckles

“cant help it.. feels good..” not meaning to boost his ego, “yea? whos making you feel good bunny?” such a douche one of the things why you broke it off with him, “..kon- konig..” barely mumbling, “say it baby”

but you keep mumbling, embarrassed. why? maybe bc your pathetic letting your jerk ex fuck you? or maybe that people will hear you beg for your lousy ex that you talk shit about.. i dunno girl

he halts his thrusts, “cmon hun” fuck right when you were about to cum, “plea- please..” tippy toeing as much as your heels allowed while attempting to thrust back into him before he tightens his hold on you preventing movement.

“konig! fuck konig please- need to cum! let me cum” you cant tell by the way his eyes squint he wears that smug smirk that you only got to see while dating, “really little girl? you want me to fuck you?” egging you on, “yes konig! fuck me goddamn it!” he clicks his tongue but allows it, “okay baby” he sings as he slips all but the tip of his dick out and slams back into your cunt causing you to yelp

“f-fuck sweatheart, yer hugging me like a glove” but you couldnt hear him over the skin slapping and that brain numbing dick is all you can focus on. “ t-too big” you whine, “slow down k-konig” feeding into his ego and his balls slapping on your clit adding to your pleasure

“s’okay you can take all it baby” even though he can your tight cunt slowing down his thrusts “f-fuck” he pants again, he can feel his balls tighten; about to cum. “jus loosen up baby” his right hand crawling to your clit and rubbing harsh circles,

rambling,“mm- fuck kon! m’ gonna cum!” he chuckles like bastard even now, “me too pretty girl” leaned forward, groaning in your ear. you can also see the sweat collecting on his mask, “cmon pretty make a mess..” and that you do, milking him for all hes worth, “f-fuck” pulling out right before his cum spurts on the back of yer body suit.

#konig x reader #konig imagine #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig x you #konig #konig cod #konig headcanons #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare

247 notes · View notes

daegustae · 10 months

Text

champagne problems | jeon jungkook

pairing ; groom!jungkook x wedding planner!reader.

genre ; smut, angst | one-shot

summary ; the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy

word count ; 4.1k

chapter warnings ; infidelity, smut (18+), oral (f. receiving), bigdick!jungkook, multiple s3x positions, explicit language, creampie, unprotected s3x (yall know better), slight cockwarming, mentions of illness | plot twist at the end dont k!ll me pls

a/n ; this was inspired by champagne problems obv AND the apartment we won’t share by niki jhsdjds IDK I WAS JUST LISTENING TO IT AND THEN BAM HERE COMES THIS AU . this is not edited.

¯¨’*·~-.¸¸,.-~*’ •·.·´¯`·.·• `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.· •´`·..íì..·´`•

“Nothing?” Hobi shakes his head no, pouting as he watches the screen in front of him waiting for a miracle to happen. You look at the letters written on your wall Garam Event Management Studios. It was your dream to have a business like this. An organizer for different types of events. At first, your business was doing exceptional, always fully-booked, never having a free day but better than you’re experiencing right now. Dry and dull. You even had to let go of some of your employees considering that you won’t be able to pay them due to this crisis.

“We won’t last a month” you sigh your head in frustration, thinking about what went wrong in your business. You can’t help but be in denial, this crisis started when your father purposely embarrassed you at that one dinner party, claiming that your business will eventually close down so people shouldn’t bother to get your services. His reason? Because you refused to work at his company where you’ll be the next CEO. To be fair, you were tired of being ordered around and being an office slave.

But humiliating you that night was uncalled for. Especially everything that happened before that confrontation.

“We just have to boost our ads, we used to be in-demand.” used to.

“I’m sorry Hobi, this was because of me.” he frowns, looking at your slump figure on the couch.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” you look at him giving him a pout, suppressing the tears that are threatening to come out.

“Thank you for sticking with me” he nods standing up from his table as he makes his way to you giving you the tightest hug. You are honestly thankful of Hobi, he’s your best friend and out of all people he was the first one to support you with your business, even dropping his corporate job to join you as a full time event coordinator.

“We’ll be fine, it's winter season, who wants a wedding during winter?” you laugh giving him a smack on his head before a ding sound comes out of his computer. You both pull out of the hug looking at each other with wide eyes, scrambling on the couch to stand up and read the letters on his screen.

“We got an appointment” you both scream jumping in excitement.

“We got this” you nod, doing your celebratory handshake before dashing to your own table, ready to contact the services you will need. Hobi focuses on the person who’s making an appointment.

Hobi sighs, you look at him puzzled, reading his face who’s hard to determine at this very moment. You look at him raising your eyebrows as your smile fades. “We got an appointment but it’s your choice if you want it or not.”

“Of course I want it! We can’t choose our customers, we're in a crisis.” you say matter of factly.

“Even if it’s your ex’s wedding?” he says slowly, waiting for your reaction.

“Of course, this is business, nothing personal.” you clear your throat, biting your tongue and proceeding to scroll through your desktop.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure there will be more cus-”

“Hobi, it’s fine. Plus this is good for our business, we’ll get exposure and such.” you give him a reassuring smile. It’s not time to be selfish. It’s been 9 months since that dinner party, you’re pretty sure everyone has moved on from it already, and yet you still remember the atmosphere that day.

“It’s his fiance that booked the appointment, by the way.” fiance you shouldn’t feel bitter hearing that, but somehow there’s a small part of you that aches for the future you planned, aches for him. “She said she chose us because she was a guest to this wedding once, and fell in love with us” Hobi chuckles “And the wedding’s in three days” he adds

“What?” that’s a small amount of time to prepare.

“And she can’t find anyone else to do it because it’s too little time” you sigh you either accept this or you’ll close down this business.

“We have to make this work Hobi, this is our last shot.” you say truthfully he nods looking at you with concern.

“Let's do this yeah?”

“Stop fiddling with your pants Hobi” you scold giving him a scowl as you watch him straighten up on his seat. You’re currently in your studio, waiting for your clients to discuss what they want for the wedding.

“I can’t help it, it’s been too long since we last saw him” you nod agreeing, smacking his hands that continue to fiddle with everything he touches.

“Are you the ex?” you whisper-yell wincing as you feel your head throbbing. Hobi looks at you with concern before you shrug him off.

“Funny” you laugh as he rolls his eyes, freezing as the door inside your office opens. Revealing a beautiful woman, and a familiar figure following him. Way too familiar.

“Our couple! Future Mrs. Jeon?” Hobi greets her and nods, giving you both a genuine smile. You stand up from your seat, reaching out to shake her hand in which she excitedly accepts before extending your hand to the man beside her.

“Jungkook” you greet

“y/n” he reaches out for your hand, his warmth engulfing your whole body.

“You know each other?” she gushes

“She was a friend” Jungkook says a friend you nod in agreement. Sitting on the chair and preparing the papers you will need.

“That’s good then! You both can talk about the wedding for tomorrow no? I have to prepare for my dress-fitting and such.” You look at Hobi asking for help in which he understands, changing the subject.

“Let’s talk about that later, okay so here’s the initial plan we prepared for you both based on what we talked about yesterday . You can choose which you prefer, and you can also change anything, just tell us and we’ll continue from there.” they both nod, you can’t help but feel the burning glaze of Jungkook, you look at him, your eyes meeting each other as Hobi proceeds to explain everything.

It’s been so long since you last saw him, nothing changed. He still has the same doe eyes, lip ring, and that mole on his neck. Nothing changed except his heart. You look away, nodding at whatever Hobi’s saying, this is gonna be a long day.

“Well we’ll see you on your wedding day?” You tell Hana she nods giving you her bright smile, no wonder he fell in love with her. Her smile is contagious and she seems really kind. You’re happy for both of them.

“Yes! I’m trusting everything to you, for the rest of the plans you can meet up with my husband. I’m really sorry I won’t be there”

“Of course, and no it’s fine. Just rest before your wedding day”

“I’ll see you guys soon” she says excitedly giving you and Hobi a hug, Jungkook waving his hands to the both of you as they walk outside.

You sigh in relief, closing your eyes as you lean your head on the table. Feeling yourself getting drowsy.

“You okay?”

“Mmm just nauseous”

“I still think you need to tell him the reason you know” you look up at Hobi, frowning at him.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, his wedding is in two days” You stand up kneeling in front of Hobi who has his head low.

“Still it’s unfair” you shake your head laughing lightly, he looks like a child right now

“Some things are better left unsaid, I’m okay really. And I chose this path, remember?” you can’t help but feel your heart swells, it’s good to know that someone still cares about you.

“I have to talk to our techs, and be on the reception to check the updated stuff tomorrow” you bite your lip, that means it’s just going to be you and Jungkook tomorrow. “Will you be okay alone?”

“Of course! Just business, nothing personal". Clapping your hands feels like you're convincing yourself more than hobi, ruffling Hobi’s hair as you stand up checking the needed items for the wedding so you can present it to Jungkook tomorrow.

“And we have this voice message thing booth, where your guests can leave their wishes through this analog phone which is perfect for your wedding theme.” You’re currently at your office as you explain to Jungkook, he listens to you intently, watching in awe as you present him with all the details for his wedding.

“That’s beautiful, you’re good at this” you chuckle with his compliment shaking your head as you list a few things on the paper.

“Thank you, you convinced me to do it” you smile at the memory, you’ve always wanted a job like this, designing and organizing things. At first you were hesitant about it, but when you told Jungkook what you really wanted, he was there to support and encourage you all the way. He even helped you in naming your studio, suggesting Garam which means river. And with a river, you can’t touch the same water twice, it keeps flowing, reminding us that life is fleeting and we should value every second of it. Which by the way is connected with your job, helping every client to remember and enjoy their special day that will pass by eventually.

“I’m glad you still continue” he states as you look at him in the eyes nodding. “I’m sorry”

“For what” you stand up, compiling all the papers as Jungkook watches you leave your seat.

“My fiance is a huge fan of yours, she really wanted you to be our coordinator” you stop at your tracks looking at Jungkook as you shrug.

“I’m thankful for that Kook, nothing to be sorry for” his heart skips a beat, the nickname you gave him to him before feels like a knife jabbing through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this way.

“I waited for you, you know” you take a deep breath, watching Jungkook make his way to where you are standing.

“I’m sorry” you tell him sincerely “I’m just glad you found what you deserve” he nods taking a step forward, reaching out as he puts his hands on your hips. Leaning your forehead to his.

“What are you doing?” you know this is wrong, but you didn’t fight back, feeling the familiar warmth pulse through your whole body. “We shouldn't” you whisper to his lips.

“We shouldn’t” he repeats before he’s pulling away from you. You watch him clear his throat nodding his head as he makes his way to the door. You didn’t dare to look at him turning your back away from him waiting for the sound of your door opening and closing.

You gasp as you feel your body getting spinned. Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Kissing each other like there’s no tomorrow, pulling away to catch your breath only to put your lips on his again. His lips taste like poison, it burns you. Your hands wander each other’s bodies, exploring and holding each other like there’s no tomorrow. Because there isn’t.

You find yourself on fours on the couch with Jungkook, moaning as you feel him lick your pussy, eating you out with no mercy. “F-fuck”

“Are you still on the pill?” he asks from behind you, you nod watching his dick slap his stomach. “Good”

You feel his length enter inside you, both of you moaning in unison as he penetrates your walls. You clench your jaw at the foreign feeling. It’s been so long since he’s been inside you, you forgot how big and long he is.

“So tight princess, relax” he soothes you by kissing your neck to your shoulders. Tracing your spine as you arch your back. He starts thrusting inside, holding on to your hips for leverage. He feels your walls tighten, as he hits the spot he has always known.

“P-please” you have no idea what you’re begging for, but Jungkook knows you. He pounds inside you leaning his body on yours as you feel his weight on your back, only adding to the pleasure.

“You close?” you cry in pleasure, Jungkook lifts your body as he sits up without pulling out of you, making you put all your weight on his chest.

“Spread your legs” you do as he says, spreading your legs as he continues to thrusts inside you, this position sending you into a frenzy. You can’t help but look down, watching your pussy swallow him deliciously. He growls as you bounce, meeting his hips to get you there.

“I’m cumming” your legs shake as Jungkook repeatedly hits your spot. Putting all your weight on him this time as he massages your breast with his left hand, the other rubbing your pussy. You feel his breath on your shoulder, tilting your head on the side to chase his lips. Your pussy clenches as you feel your orgasm, breathing heavily with Jungkook’s cock still inside you.

“Good girl” he praises, he lays your body on the couch, watching you in your pleasure state, before he’s spreading your legs again. Lining up his length to show you deep he’s gonna be inside you. He spread your remains on his dick, rubbing it before slapping his dick on your sensitive pussy.

You wince making him chuckle. “Take all of me yeah?”

He inserts his throbbing length inside you once again, but this time slower. And intimate. Watching your face turns into pleasure as he brushes the hair on your face with his fingers. He takes his time this time, thrusting inside you slowly, but harder.

You look at his face, rubbing your thumb on his eyebrow as it furrows. You don’t say anything to each other, just feeling each other’s warmth. He kisses your lips delicately, holding your body close to his. You put your arms on his shoulder to his back, nails scratching softly that will be there until tomorrow.

“Almost there” he whispers, you can’t help but bite his shoulder feeling yourself release again. He kisses your forehead, his thrust becoming erratic until he’s cumming inside you. You both quiver with pleasure.He didn’t pull out after that, laying on your body instead. His head on your shoulder as you both breathe heavily.

You gently run your fingers to his hair, you feel him sighs in contentment as you feel your tears flow on your cheek feeling the coldness of his ring on your skin. Even if Jungkook notices your tears, he doesn't say anything, only holding you tighter. You stay just like that, holding and feeling the warmth of each other. Because maybe you both know that this will be the last time you’ll see each other. You both know the consequences and you’ll both suffer from it. Greatly.

You both know this is goodbye.

It isn’t long before you're both putting your clothes back on, without words. Before you’re clearing your throat. Shame and guilt both eating you alive already.

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen”

“Like how you pretended I didn’t propose to you that night?” he says sarcastically, you can feel the bitterness of his words. You stand frozen. Not knowing what to say. Getting a flashback of that night.

“Can you at least tell me the reason? I deserve that”

“It was for all of this, you know that.” the lie sits like a venom on your tongue

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” you’re now both facing each other. His eyes meet your glistening ones.

“I’m not telling you to accept that, but that’s the truth, nothing else.”

“You could’ve just told me you wanted this career so bad, I wouldn’t have made you choose. I would have supported you.” you can feel the pain lacing his voice, and you can’t help but let your tears run down your cheeks.

“I know” you sob, Jungkook wants to hold you, but he stops himself from doing so. 9 months and you’re both still a mess. Maybe this was the closure you needed, but not the closure he wanted. He thinks about all the things you could’ve been if you only told him the truth. He can’t help but be offended, you really thought he won’t support you with what you wanted? All those years together and yet you thought so little of him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did” he pauses, shaking his head, chuckling as he finds himself crying as well “The moment you started thinking I would stop you from chasing your dreams” he adds im sorry im sorry. You know no words will ever heal him from the pain you’ve caused. So you shut your mouth watching him leave before stopping to his tracks. Looking back at you one last time.

“Do you regret it? Leaving me?” he asks genuinely. Jungkook needs to hear it from you, so he can move on and stop living with the what if’s. He needs to hear it so he can wake up tomorrow without doubts about his future.

“No” you say without hesitating, staring at his eyes so you can deliver your point.

“Okay” he nods, shutting the door behind him as you fall down on your knees. Clutching your chest as you feel it aches.

“I’m sorry” the doctor looks at you with pity. You nod not knowing how to react.

“How long do I have?”

“12 months based on the size of tumor in your brain” you look at his eyes, hoping that he would be lying and this is a joke. But his eyes have no hint as such. “There’s a treatment but it’s not guaranteed you will live.” so it’s either you die slowly with the treatment or still die without it, except you’ll live shorter. Which is worse?

You chuckle weakly, so many thoughts running in your mind, how could this be? Why does it have to be you? What will happen to those who you will leave behind?

Jungkook. If you tell him your illness, he would stay and be there for you. But you can’t let him witness you die slowly and suffer for the rest of his life. It will be too selfish for you to deny him the bright future he deserves. You can’t scar him and leave a painful permanent mark.

You’d rather him hate you than suffer loving you.

That night you and Jungkook were invited to a dinner party, and you were planning on breaking up with him for whatever reason you come up with. The guilt eating you alive as he intertwined his finger with yours. Constantly kissing your temples.

That same night, he was on his knees, asking for your hand around your family, friends and colleagues. You dreamt of this day, and you would have said yes if it weren’t for the news you received that morning. You remember the atmosphere that night, it was heavy. Too heavy that you feel like falling down to your knees. But most of all, you remember the confusion and pain written on Jungkook’s face that night, watching you shake your head and run away from the scene.

That very night, your father talks about the business you were starting. Slandering it so the attention won’t be with the failed proposal but your failure as his daughter who refused to take over the company. Your father did all that to save himself from embarrassment. That very night, you lost the remaining care your father had for you.

That night, you lost your bestfriend, your anchor, the love of your life.

That night, your world crumbled down into pieces.

You look around your office, tracing pictures of past events you had on the wall. You started this career because you wanted it, and you had Jungkook’s support. You still continue to do it because it gives you the comfort to plan for other’s future that you won’t have and experience in this lifetime.

“Don’t be nervous, just enjoy this moment.” you tell Hana, patting her on the shoulder as she nods. She’s the most beautiful bride you’ve ever met. The kindest too. She engulfs you into a hug and squeezes your body.

“Thank you for everything.” you can’t help but feel guilty, she trusted you. And you fucked his fiance the day before your wedding. And you know karma has bitten you in the ass once you're 6 ft underground.

“I’m sorry” you whisper sincerely, rubbing her back. As if she would know what you did. she gasps, pulling away from the hug before she’s pinching your sides.

“Everything is beautiful, what are you sorry for.” she giggles. Your conversation has died down when the door opens revealing Hobi in a suit.

“Ladies, we’re about to start” he announces, the bridesmaids stand up, shuffling to their feet as they get out of the room to prepare. “y/n, check on our groom one last time please” you gulp doing as he says. Hobi doesn’t know what happened between you and Jungkook yesterday, and you don’t want him to know. Not today, at least.

“Let me fix that for you” you tell from the doorway, watching Jungkook jump in surprise as he tries to fix his tie.

“Please” you give each other a small smile, so many words left unsaid. And that’s for the better.

“I love her y/n.” He says suddenly, you stop fixing his tie for a moment, good before continuing your actions.

“I know, don’t worry I won’t tell. We’ll pretend it never happened.” you pat his shoulder, distancing from him.

“I really love her, she’s helped me get back up after everything. I will tell her about what happened last night, someday. I don’t want to lose her, I can’t.” you nod understandingly, knowing he’s telling the truth because he used to talk about you like that before.

“I’m happy for you Jungkook” you tell him honestly, this is what you’ve always wanted. At first, you thought you would feel jealousy and pain when you accepted this event. But now, you only feel happiness for the both of them, not even a small part of you feels bitter about this. Just genuine joy and pure contentment knowing Jungkook’s in good hands.

“Thank you.” You both sniff, laughing as you witness each other be a mess. Crying of joy this time.

“Jungkook you’re ruining your makeup”

“Stop making me cry then.”

“I will.”

- The huge doors open, revealing Jungkook waiting at the altar and for a moment you had a glance of the future that you could have had. You wait for the bride to get to the end of the hall before making your way to Hobi who’s busy ordering the staff.

“Hey”

“Hey, you look pale.”

“I’m sick, remember” you say matter-of-factly. Hobi only scowls at you. “Think you can handle everything else here?”

“Of course, is there something wrong?”

“Just tired” he observes your face, before nodding in understandment. Lately, you’ve been experiencing the symptoms, at first it was gradual but you feel it progress every day. One symptom at time, then all of it sometimes.

“You need help? I can drive you home” you smack his arm scolding him.

“They need an expert to stay here. Thank you Hobi” you both share your handshakes, giggling as you wave goodbye. Making one last stop before leaving, you find yourself in front of the voicemail booth. Picking up the phone with the label groom.

“Hey Kook, um, it’s me y/n” You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling awkward talking on the phone with no one on the other line.

“I just wanna say I’m happy that you found love because you’re a wonderful being, and you deserve nothing but happiness and more. I know you will be a great husband, and a loving father because I learned how to love unconditionally from you and I will always be grateful for that. You asked me before if I regret leaving you. Honestly, I don’t don’t regret any of it. I guess the only regret I have is making you wait longer when you could have had all of this sooner. Thank you for everything and I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Here’s to the future

#jjk angst #bts fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jjk smut #Smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #bts #bts imagines #jjk imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios

321 notes · View notes

kuni-is-daddy · 1 year

Note

I just want Scara to be an asshole giving me mixed signals, he sees us one day talking with Dottore and that’s a big no. He’s going to have to show you that your his (please I’m so down bad for this man) 🛐🛐

OMG AAA THAT MADE ME SAD BCUZ I SPECIFICALLY DONT FW DOTTORE BC OF SCARA. BUT THATS WHY HES SUCH A GOOD VILLAIN 😭

Brat.

DOM!Scaramouche x SUB! Female fatui harbinger reader.

Scara fic list

1.2k WORDS. FILTH.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Dottore trying to convince you to antagonize scaramouche and take advantage of him just so he can get off more experiments. Mentioning how its visible that scaramouche has a 'tolerance to you' unlike the rest of the fatui(except his 'bestie' Childe) Scaramouche would overhear this and only this part of the conversation.

Scaramouche would distance himself from you during dinner and missions for the rest of the week. During a gathering to honor childe and La signora for retrieving the geo archons gnosis you'd stand next to him and begin the conversation.

"Kuni? Love? How is your missions going? You've been busy lately and...we really havent had much time to talk. Do you want to catch up at my place after?" Scara had no intention of talking to you for god knows how long because he was truly hurt after seeing you talk to dottore. He started to believe over the course of the days he's been distant to you that you just didnt care, but after hearing 'you've been busy lately' he just assumed that you really we're oblivious. At the thought of it he smirked and then scoffed you off with a "Ok" while you smiled and gave him a one sided hug.

Scara who would purposely leave the gathering early just to wait for you inside your room in your house, Only with a black shirt and shorts on. "Oh- Kuni..Your already..here..I forgot you had a key. I see you made yourself at home" Youd try to brush it off with a laugh but his cold gaze upon you just gave you shivers. He pinned you against the wall and asked you immeditately. "What we're you doing with dottore?"

Smutt:

'Dottore..how did-' "S-scara We're you spying on me?!" he scoffed "Of fucking course i was? Where the hell we're you?! Ive been looking for you for fucking days and then I catch you with that bastard?! Have you forgotten what HE did to me y/n?" "No! No i havent.. Is that what this is about? because i talked to Dottore 1 time your all frustrated like this?" Scara was even more pissed off. first you talk to his enemy then act like its nothing. He was beyond fed up. "Kuni.. please, It was just for work. I would kill him in a heartbeat if it wasn't for our Excellency." "Yeah I know what fucking work you two we're talking about. Taking advantage of me? Huh? is that what you wanted to do Brat." "What?! no Kuni I'd never hurt-" He slammed his hand around your throat "AGh- Kuni-" "how about I take advantage of you huh? You want that?" You knew you were going to get punished anyway, god you despised your job even more. "Y-yes.. Kuni." "Good, that's what I wanted to fucking hear from you brat. Take off your top."

You nervously strip Infront of your s/o after he releases his grip off of your neck, gasping for air. "Shit look at these tits.." he leaned his head towards your chest, looking up at your expression before licking around your boobs. "Kuni~ stop.." you moaned while placing your hand against his smooth hair. "No. I'm going to mark your fucking body so you know your mine. Take it like a good girl." He caressed both of your breasts with his hands while rubbing your nipples with his finger. "K-Kuni! Be gentle..ah..your going too rough~" "shit.. I love how sensitive you are around your breasts. Makes me so hard. Are you wet for me Y/n?" You panned your face away and pouted. He grabbed hard on one of your boobs "AH~ Y-YES KUNI~" "Your so pathetic y/n, I'm trying to take your punishment slow yet you can't even answer for me. Maybe I should take you right now." He pulled away from your chest and moved his fingers down to your pants. You tried to pull away yet only now realizing you we're still against the wall. "Your so..wet y/n....love hearing your body throb for me..just like that.", He bit into the side of your neck, sucking while rubbing his finger against your clit "Scara..please AH~"

"Mmm mmm brat~ don't fucking beg for me now. I don't care about some shit rank, you need to know your worth. How your mine. How your my cocksleve. We're you showing yourself off to that sick fuck? Could he make you moan out like this?" "N-nO master~ I wouldn't..im' all yours~" Kuni's hard on grew though his pants. "Yeah theirs my good girl. Say master again and I'll let you cum on my fingers." His pace became rapid, scara put 2 inside of you as both of your body's jerked back and forth against the wall as if he was fucking you. It was too much, you could feel your heartbeat fastening in your chest, the lewd moans you let out while scara kept moaning praises in your ear "Yeah..just like that. Cum on masters fingers, be my good girl. Y/n. Cum for me. Cum baby."

"M-MASTER AH~ F-FUCK KUNI~" you gripped onto his back hard as you came along his fingers, legs shaking from the burning orgasm you just had. "God..look at how much you came on my fingers." He licked up your juices. "Ugh...you taste so good y/n. So fucking good. Maybe I shouldn't punish you since you did so well." He began picking up your shirt and bra. Up until you got on your knees, sticking your tongue out while pointing towards your mouth. He turned his head and immediately dropped your clothes. "Mmm look at this. And here I was thinking to let out off the hook" he squatted down to your height. Staring at the newfound desperation in your eyes while grabbing your hair.

"I don't care if the tsaritsa herself or the divine wants you against me. You'll only listen to me. And you'll only be mine, Y/N."

#genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #genshin thirsts #kunikizushi #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche #scaramouche headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin x female reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

416 notes · View notes

corrodedcoffins-blog · 2 months

Text

Making Up

quinn hughes x nhl player!reader

warning: suggestive, mention of food (i think, i dont ever remember what i write after its done)

word count: 1.8 k

Usually, as in every other year, Y/n looked forward to training camp; it meant a year was starting, and with that a new start. Yet all she could think about the few months was how she so desperately hoped that training camp could be farther and farther away. But this year was different. Just like last year was different. All because she slept with Quinn once, well more than once but the first time was the inciting incident.

But before the end of last season, with their ‘break up’ if you could even call it that, given they never dated. And since then Y/n has done a large amount of self-reflection, this came about when over the summer she had a weird feeling, one she’s only had after she leaves her family for the season. She was homesick, homesick for Quinn.

She missed him so much, missed how he would hold her at night, and leave small kisses all over her body, she missed feeling his weight on her while they cuddled. She missed him. She wanted him.

The woman hasn’t seen Quinn for four months, and they had barely talked after their ‘break up’, avoiding all chances during their last few games, and though she couldn’t be more happy and proud of him, the man now being the captain only made everything worse. If he was anything but captain, she could get away with avoiding him a lot easier. But life has never gone easy on her.

- Just as expected, training camp went terribly. Well, that’s an exaggeration, she did great, just not well Quinn was her partner, or next to her, or in her eye sight. And realistically, she was probably the only one to notice. Except for Quinn, he always noticed. But he was also in the same situation of not playing that great when Y/n was involved.

So after practice, on their way out, Quinn ran to catch up with the girl just as she was getting in her car, he mutters, “Meet me at my house, we have to talk.”

His deep voice, being a small shock, having not seen him coming. And feeling his warm breath on her neck, and his voice in her ears brought up memories. Ones that her body had a physical reaction to being brought up in her brain. The rosy colour rising in her cheeks, and throat becoming dry.

Gaining the courage to finally knock on Quinn’s door, it opens before she can finish the third knock. Quinn no doubt waited on the other side, waiting for the woman to finally knock after standing out there for far too long.

“Hey.” “Hi.”

Standing in the awkwardness for enough time, Quinn walked out of the entrance way and towards his kitchen, Y/n assumes she’s supposed to follow so she does. Walking into the familiar room, looking around and seeing no changes in the decorations, or lack thereof. Quinn then passes the girl a beer, the cap already off. Quinn knew she hated twist off because they made the palm of her hand sore, so he always did it for her. Even now.

“We have to have it out. We have to have everything out in the open. Or we won’t be able to play together like we used to.” “I agree.”

After standing in the awkwardness once again, Quinn decided that for once he was going to be bold and say what he truly felt, and what he truly wanted, “I love you. And that’s not gonna change.” Taking a sip of her beer, feeling she’ll need it for this, the woman listened as Quinn continued, “I love everything about you. Even the things I hate, and that annoy me, I love. I love how competitive you are, not even in sports, just in everyday things; just that you can unlock the door faster than me, so if Micheal Myers was chasing us you would survive and I wouldn’t. And I love the face you have when you’re tired, but you don’t want to admit it, just for you to fall asleep ten minutes into a movie you fought me over to watch. I love that you’re adamant on only having tomatoes once in your life, when I have seen you eat spaghetti and pizza more than once before-""It’s not the same ""-I love you, Y/n. All of you.”

Tears trickled down the woman’s face, tickling as they went down her neck. Because, fuck she thinks she really loves him too. And that was still really scary to say, but she would get over it for him. Because he wouldn’t hurt her like the other guys, he cared for her, and paid attention to the little things, and god, he was perfect. She couldn’t imagine a future without him. She was always on the fence about kids, but he wanted them, she would give him them.Wiping the tears away, looking into Quinn’s eyes, ones she’s missed so dearly.

“I think I love you too.I’ve only said that to someone once before and my love was taken for granted, so it’s been hard for me to give it out. But Quinny, you’ve never given me a reason to not completely trust you, and I think that’s what I was scared of. But I love you, and I don’t think it will ever change either.”

Swiftly, Quinn brings the girl into a deep, and passionate kiss, one they put all of their love for each other into. Y/n bring her hands to the nape of Quinn’s neck, grabbing the hair in her fist, pulling slightly; eliciting a groan from the boy, while he brings his hands from her waist to her hips to her thighs, lifting her and taking her to the couch. His hands now at the hem of the woman’s shirt, beginning to lift it over her head, before Y/n interrupts and he stops instantly.

“Wait- I don’t want this to be like last time. I don’t want the miscommunication, and the friends-with-benefits thing. I want you. I want to be with you.” “Glad we’re on the same page then.” He says, leaning his head down to kiss the woman’s jaw, and down to the spot she loves on her neck.

“Quinny. So, what does that mean for us?” Quinn, now seeing this wasn’t going fast sits next to the girl, “Y/n. Will you be my girlfriend?” “How would that affect the team, and us playing together, what will people think? I mean- they’ll blame me, ‘first girl in the league, and she goes and dates her captain’ it will look bad. And-” “Y/n, stop thinking. Do you want to be my girlfriend, ‘cause I want to be your boyfriend. A lot.” “Of course! Of course I want to. But-” “Then why are we thinking about what other people will think?”

Quinn would never truly understand. No matter how hard he tries, no man will understand. What people will say. How they’ll think of every reason to hate her and add this to the list. But never will they hate Quinn for it, no. And she knows that Quinn is trying to help, saying not to care what other people think, but it’s hard when if she looks up her own name, everything that comes up is how ‘she doesn’t deserve to be in the league’ or that ‘she doesn’t work hard enough’ even though she is the first in the gym and the last to leave, she gets to the games first, always pushing herself but it was never good enough.

“People will hate me.”

“Y/n, you are the strongest person I know, if any of the guys got the amount of hate you do, they would have quit by now. You don’t let their words make you quit, you push yourself harder. I love you. And I don’t care what those people say, they’re just sexist bastards. You deserve to be happy, and I want to make you happy. Don’t let them take that away.”

That was what she needed to hear. She still had concerns of course, but her happiness will come first and they’ll cross the bridges as they come. Because Quinn was right. Letting those people stop her from living her life, only gave them what they wanted and her nothing. At that a large grin, from ear to ear, spreads on Y/n’s face.

“I love you.” “I love you too. How ‘bout I show you how much I love you?” “Please, Quinny.”

Their naked bodies were now tangled in the bed sheets, Y/n turned her head and gently placed her chin on Quinn’s bare and muscular chest. Just looking at him, his eyes staring into the ceiling gave the woman a chance to observe the changes in him, his new stubble length, and his hair styled differently. Still as handsome as ever.

“It’s rude to stare.” “You don’t know I’m staring, you can’t see me.” “There’s mirrors over there.”

Looking at where Quinn pointed with his chin, there were in fact the mirrors of his closet door that gave him a great few of her face, and their bodies intertwined.

“Fine. You caught me.” Y/n said, bringing a mischievous smirk to Quinn’s face, his hands now moving from the woman’s back to her sides, Quinn knowing that’s where she is ticklish. The woman squirming on top of him (for the second time today) now screaming out (for the second time today)

“Ahhh! Quinny! Ah stop! Wait, I have to talk- ah! Talk to you!”

His hands stopping, and coming to rub up and down on her sides, “‘Bout what?” Y/n can hear the mild concern in his voice and not wanting to worry him says a quick ‘nothing bad’ before sitting up and continuing her sentence, “I just want to talk so we’re on the same page about.. How this will affect the team and if we’ll tell them, and you’re the captain now so you have to put the team first and I never want to put you in that situation.”

“We’re not gonna affect the team.” “You don’t know that.” “Did it before?” “...That was different. And when we ended things it did.” “Well I don’t plan on ending things. Do you?” Y/n’s hands move to the sides of Quinn’s neck, tilting his head up to look at her, “I don’t plan on ending things.” “Good.” Quinn says, a smile on his face while leaning up to press a soft kiss on Y/n’s lips, then on her jaw before falling back against his pillows.

“Do you want to tell the guys?” “Not yet.” “Then let’s not worry about it. Just see how it goes before we tell them.” “Okay.” Leaning down, Y/n rests her head on Quinn’s bare chest once again, hearing his steady heartbeat and the warmness of his chest, warming her ear.

“And don’t give me special treatment in practice.” “I would never. If anything I would push you harder ‘cause I know that’s what works for you.” “Good.”

~taglist~

@books-hlmc

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x nhl player!reader #quinn hughes x player!reader #quinn hughes x fem reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine

135 notes · View notes

losrpen · 7 days

Text

MDNI 18+ (smut)

“dont go that route baby.”

(geto x afab! reader, HARD D0M GETO!! rough s3x, choking, daddy k!nk n sum other stuff? aftercare (idrk) … THIS IS DIRTYYYYYY!)

not proofread.

“geto! im gonna wear what i want!”

you told geto you were going to a halloween party, and you picked the sluttiest, nurse outfit you could find. preferably so he could get mad, you love his stern voice. something about it makes you feel warm inside.

“angel, when you bend over your whole ass is out, i don’t want anyone seeing that. couldn’t you put shorts underneath?”

he asked politely, he just wanted your ass to be covered, he was always protective like that.

“i dont want to!”

you pouted, in your slutty nurse outfit, white and red, beyond a mini skirt at this point. you were spraying your perfume, it was sweet and smelt like mangos and peaches.

“stop being a fucking brat! all i did was ask for you to put shorts underneath!”

he was getting mad, it was pretty obvious. you found it funny for some reason, you didn’t let it come out though.

“geto! im wearing this whether u like it or not! gosh just be understanding for once!”

that did it, he was completely pissed off. why could you just listen?

“princess. come here. now. on my lap, up.”

you slowly walk over, he gets up to grab u and he sits back down bringing you onto his lap.

“baby, im always understanding, i do whatever you ask me to do. i don’t argue cause i don’t think its worth it, i buy you whatever you want. anything, i give you everything, in exchange for one thing, you listen to what i ask you to do. and i barely ask you to do anything, isn’t that right angel?”

you feel cold shivers everywhere, god he was so hot… but you know your in trouble now.

“ye..yes… i guess…”

“so princess, if i ask you to do something small, like put shorts underneath your skirt. don’t you think you should do it? and im not asking because i cant fight, i can fight and i will fight anyone who dares to fucking touch you. its just, if you saw someone who was wearing a thong underneath that revealing little costume, and its cold out, and they had no covering. what would you think?”

you started to feel warm all over, the things this man did to you.

“that… that they were a hooker? maybe…”

“tsk…tsk…. wrong again princess, its that you would look available, since i havent put a ring on that pretty finger yet princess… and i wouldnt be there to show you off…. so angel, bend over my knee and ill give you your punishment.”

he removes his hands from your waist to allow you bend over his knee, this was going to hurt.

“20 spanks with my hand, 10 with my belt, and 10 with the paddle. okay princess? this is meant to give you a lesson, i will be mean. and rough. bad angels dont stay in there good spot forever, but they earn it back okay? if you need to stop you know the signal and the safe words.”

“daddy…. its (sniffle) going to hurt…”

you always cry your way out of things because geto always lets it go, he wont this time. you will be getting you punishment.

“no angel, no tears… youll get your punishment whether you like it or not. since you wanna be a crybaby, should i make it worse?”

he pouts, mocking you.

“daddy! stop teasing me and just punish me already! i have my party to go to! your so annoying!”

youre acting a brat again, you shouldve kept your mouth shut.

“no angel. no, shut your fucking mouth. okay? bad angels dont get treated like good ones.”

he pulls your hair back so your looking at him, he slaps you multiple times, back and forth till your mouth starts stinging really bad, and finally he back hands you, and your lip starts to bleed. he lets go of your hair, but makes sure to keep your head up, and he places a hand over your mouth.

“now angel, lets get started okay? aw… i forgot you couldnt talk! what about i just pull this slutty fucking skirt down…”

he accidentally rips it, so he just rips the thong too. leaving you bare and exposed to the cold air.

“oops! sorry angel… guess you cant go huh?”

he starts spanking you with his hand, each strike getting harder and harder, your ass becoming a bright red.

“mhm… good… good angel..”

he gets the paddle now, and starts to hit you repeatedly and you cry into the gag, screaming, and struggling against his lap.

next is the belt, its a metal belt with the spikes on it, he hits you once, harshly, the spikes digging into the bright red plump flesh of your ass. he continues to hit it with the belt until he reaches ten. he takes the gag out of your mouth.

“okay princess… shh… shhh…. come here come here… its okay…. its okay….”

he pulls you back into his lap, you facing his big manly chest, he lays back into the bed holding you close, his hand rubbing gently onto the welts and red flesh on your ass. your tears are muffled into his shirt as he continues caring for you.

“see? your a good angel now. good angel… shh, its gonna be okay…. you want an ice pack? (you shake your head no) okay… okay princess… i got you…”

#geto suguru #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #rough kink #jjk #jujutsu geto

70 notes · View notes

finnbbl · 1 month

Text

Hyunjin X M! Reader - Dancer AU | SMAU | Chapter 3

Ch. 3 - Meeting with JYP

| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

| Story Masterlist |

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Proofread: Kinda

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Swearing, KMS joke, Y/N simping ofc, typos

Later that Saturday..

Wow, you were really about to meet with JYP. The owner of one of the hugest K-Pop companies out there. As you stepped foot inside, your eyes were blessed with the most gorgeous and fancy lobby. It was simple, yet still seemed so elegant. Your eyes examined the room, that’s when you saw them. A smile quickly found its way to your face as you dropped your bag and ran over there. Tackling the closest friend to you, Lia, to the ground. An audible gasp of surprise left her mouth before she noticed it was you. You sat up next to her on your knees as she pushed herself up. Once she realized it was you, it was your turn to get pushed to the ground.

“Y/N!!! DONT SCARE ME LIKE THAT” She sounded slightly angry. “I’m sorry I’m sorry” Although you apologized, they knew you weren’t sorry. If it was obvious by your personality and previous scenarios like this, your laugh definitely gave it away. Before you knew it, you had all 5 girls all over you. Taking turns hugging you as they all exclaimed how much they missed you. “Ah i missed you guys so much it hurts.” You admitted as Ryujin helped you off the floor. “We’re just glad you’re here. If we’re lucky, he called you over to work with us.” Chaeryeong shot you a cheeky smile as she nudged you. “Hopefully!” You said with a little faith lacing your voice as you held up both hands with crossed fingers. “Come on, let’s get your bag and we all can catch up as we show you where he’s waiting.” You nodded in agreement as you quickly ran to grab your bag from where you had previously dropped it. The sound of six of your guys’ footsteps were covered by the chattering you all did. Sometimes, none of you truly noticed how loud you were.

Only a few minutes later did you guys make it to JYP’s personal office where he held meetings with others. “Well, you’re here. And right on time.” Yuna smiled towards you. “Thanks guys,” You bounced up and down a few times anxiously. “Ahh i’m nervous guys!”

“Relax n/n, everything will be fine.” Yeji’s hand placed itself on your shoulder followed by her comforting words. “Yeah it’s just… I don’t know the way i see him on elimination shows. And i’m sensitive what if he-“

“He’s not as intimidating as he seems online, I promise.” Ryujin interrupts. You could only nod “Okay.. Okay. I’m going now” The girls wished you luck as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Hesitating, you briefly pulled it back down before putting it back up not but a few seconds later. Your brain was ordering you to knock, but your nerves got the better of you as you struggled to find the will to knock. Finally, without even realizing, it happened. Thoughts were racing through your head about running away. Before you could think anymore, the door swung open. “Y/N, hey! How are you?” The man known as none other than the JYP, was standing in front of you. Though, the moment that question left his mouth with the welcoming tone, you knew everything would be okay.

Tons of things were discussed over the brief 30 minutes you spent in that meeting room. Way too much to let out here. But let’s just say, you got amazing news.

“Thank you, thank you so much JYP. I won’t let you down.” You bid a good bye as you bowed respectfully. As soon as the door was shut, you let your excitement take over. Squealing silently as you clutched the paper that contained all the info he gave to you. Your body shook your hands back and forth as you quickly ran over to the elevator, eager to tell the girls the good news. Once you were down on the bottom floor where the lobby was located, you spotted them immediately as the elevator opened even an inch. “GUYS!” Quickly running over to your friends. “Y/N! How was it?” They were just as excited to hear the news as you were to tell it. “I’m going on tour with one of the groups here!” You said excitedly, squealing a little louder than you did before. This earned you odd looks from staff, including a gentle hushing sound coming from the receptionist at the desk. “YOURE KIDDING! WHO IS IT?” Lia grabbed your wrists and shook them, desperate to know. “Uh see, I don’t exactly know who they are…” You trailed off, you could see their smiles falter slightly. “So it’s not us unfortunately, but that’s still great for you? What’s the group name?” Although the news that you wouldn’t be touring with them was disappointing, Ryujin made sure to not let the excitement die down. This was still a very good opportunity for you. “Uh Stray Kids I think is what he said, I don’t know i’ve never really seen them.”

“Oh my god Stray Kids? Really?” You nodded as they discussed in awh with each other. Failing to gain their attention after what seemed like minutes of them discussing, you couldn’t help but snap a finger in front of their faces. “Hello? Can you tell me who they are?” Your hands threw themselves up as you felt invisible at this moment.

“Y/N no offense.. But how can you know who ATEEZ is but not Stray Kids? I swear they’re one of the most popular groups out there!!”

“It’s because he lives under a rock Yuna.” Yeji clapped back at her. Your head dropped and tilted at her. “Ha ha, very funny. I mean, are they nice..?” Lia’s head shook up and down as a response. “Extremely. Although, they’re kinda loud sometimes.” A sweet laugh followed after. “Ohhh fun, as if i don’t deal with that already.” You crossed your arms playfully and rolled your eyes. This earned a light shove from Yeji. “Rude.”

“Oh! Speaking of Stray Kids~” Lia cooed at you as she grabbed your head and positioned it to face the eight guys, who were now walking inside the lobby chatting amongst each other. Most likely they were coming back from their lunch break. As soon as you saw them, time seemed to move slowly. God were they attractive.

“I~ knew it, he’s already making googoo eyes at them.” This comment from Lia snapped you out of your trance as you whipped your head around back at her. “Shut the hell up Lia oh my god.” Glancing back to see if they had heard, thankfully they didn’t. The eight guys were too enveloped in their conversation to hear anything. “So, which one are you interested in?” Rolling your eyes again, you turned back to them. “For the last time, i’m not interested in anyone nor am I interested in a relationship.”

The five rolled their eyes. “Yeah yeah , you say that now” Shaking your head, you guys are too much sometimes. A chuckle leaving your mouth as you checked the time on your watch. “Ah, it’s almost one. I should text San and see what time he wanted to meet up.”

“Oh yeahhh, let us know how that goes.” Chaeryeong encouraged as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to text him. “I will don’t worry.”

“Well unfortunately our break is up, we have to get going now Y/N.” Yuna pouted at Ryujin’s words. You couldn’t help but pout either. “Okayyyy.. I guess i’ll let you do your jobs..” A joke left your mouth as they laughed lightly in response. All six of you quickly hugged and bidded your goodbye, promising to hang out soon.

God you loved these girls…

Taglist: @silverstarburst

#skz imagines #skz smau #skz x reader #stray kids #bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #lee know #skz #stray kids smau #ateez #han #felix #jeongin #seungmin #smau #ateez smau #skz texts #skz scenarios

54 notes · View notes

sohnric · 3 months

Text

bad idea, right? – k. sunwoo

pairing: soundcloud rapper! sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: exes to lovers, angst, suggestive. i know this is toxic as fuck dont @ me sometimes i like to write shit like this because it's realistic...

word count: 4k

warnings: a whole lot of arguing, swearing, both of them being toxic and childish, a heated makeout session, overall just..messy. so messy.

a/n: similivinlife u inspired this. not my proudest moment but oh well 😵 the original of this draft was for the fic dancing in my backseat on @rrxnjun that i didnt end up using and revamped for this, so if u see any similarities it is because both fics are mine :P and once again, as always, thank u @csenke my sweetest beloved for beta reading 🤍

“I don’t think you can imagine the things I have to deal with about that track, like, I was literally in the town yesterday and around six people stopped me and wanted the backstory and I don’t know what, and it’s really, really annoying–”

Your voice cuts off, being replaced by a beat that makes acid taste on your tongue and hair stand up all alert, like a feral cat’s would when you try to get close to it, making you immediately turn off the song, letting a scream out into your pillow. There’s a storm of emotions inside of you as you take the phone you’ve been listening to the new song on back into your hand and pull up his number– because you blocked him everywhere else in hopes of never seeing his face again– and shoot him an angry text about the matter.

you [7:21pm]: are you kidding me???

you [7:21pm]: you are really so damn egoistical for doing this

you [7:21pm]: really don’t think about anyone else except yourself huh

you [7:21pm]: ignore my messages again like the last time and i swear to god i’ll send someone to beat your ass

Fingers quicker than your own thoughts, you hammer down the messages on the keyboard, laced with the fury that’s been shaking with you ever since you learned that he released a new track that included yet another one of your voice messages you sent to him. It was excruciating to listen to, to say the least– your dignity stripped away slowly, piece by piece with the unsettling realization that your personal matters are now out there in the open, for everyone to see and judge, for the whole world to pick apart and analyze. Which is kind of funny, considering the nature of your breakup– you’re not so sure his fans would like what they would find out about him, had they dug deep enough.

Not saying that you are innocent in this matter, of course– you just don’t think it’s really fair to not have the platform to tell your side of the story.

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: feisty one aren’t ya

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: what’s this about

Clenching your jaw as you stare at the messages popping up on your screen only a few minutes after yours get delivered– which is unusual for him, to say the least– you work your way through another angry reply.

you [7:25pm]: your song???

don’t pick up [7:25pm]: did you like it? ;)

A dry chuckle escapes your throat at the last message. Of course you didn’t like it. You weren’t really a fan of the invasion of your privacy. You didn’t like the fact that he once again used your voice without permission, letting the whole world listen to your angry words that were addressed to him and only him. What was there for you to like about the song? His cheesy lyrics? The way he acted like he was way above you, belittling you with the power he had over you with all those voice messages?

you [7:26pm]: yes i loved the invasion of my privacy a lot, thank you sunwoo

you [7:26pm]: isnt this illegal? ill look into it

don’t pick up [7:27pm]: now you’re being ridiculous.. its just a song y/n :)

Was he being serious? Just a song? What about the prying eyes staring at you whenever you walk through the campus? What about the whispering behind your back whenever you sit in the school cafeteria? The pointed fingers whenever someone recognises that it’s you– the one that dated the good-for-nothing Soundcloud rapper and then broke his poor little heart. Was it ever really just a song?

you [7:28pm]: you cant be fr rn..

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: ah…let’s just talk abt it then

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: i’ll pick u up at 8?

Staring at the messages on the screen, you let out another dry chuckle. The skin of your fingertips tingles when you swipe across the surface of your phone, opening the messaging app once again and tapping on the little bubble on the bottom, making the keyboard appear. The gears in your brain turn in swift motion as you try to sound nonchalant in your response, typing and deleting the message again, never getting the tone quite right.

Responding to your ex boyfriend’s jabs and teasing in person seems to be easier for you, contrary to popular demand– you don’t have much time to think of your answer before the time frame between your arguments would turn too awkward with the silence, so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. It comes naturally to you, though, and while you don’t particularly enjoy the fury and adrenaline that his smug smirks and jarring words make you feel, the tension his sudden messages built up only makes you more hesitant.

You haven’t met up with Kim Sunwoo since the day you ended things, and you know damn well there’s a good reason for it.

Seeing him around campus or at parties of your mutual friends is a whole other thing than being with him in a closed space, all alone. It’s been a month since you ended things and while you are fairly certain that Sunwoo is a major jerk that is out to ruin your life, you can’t really tell if you’re actually over the major jerk that is out to ruin your life.

Seemingly letting Sunwoo know that you have the chat open, letting him watch your chat bubble pathetically appear and disappear in consistent time intervals, another quick message is shot your way, making your heart drum against your rib cage in even swifter motions. Running your hand through your hair, you sigh and drop the phone into your lap, helpless.

don’t pick up [7:40pm]: i’ll take it as yes

Sighing to yourself, you stand up from your bed and put on some presentable clothes. You don’t want to give Sunwoo any ideas, and that’s why you only change into clean sweatpants and a tank top, not putting much effort into your appearance at all. You need to send him the signal of being nonchalant– although your stance on the way he uses you in his songs is full of anger and resentment, you don’t want it to seem like you care much about the man himself at all.

Dragging yourself out of your room and putting on your shoes, you bump into your roommate Aeri passing you by with a mug of tea, her hair in a towel as she just came out of the shower. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Going out,” you grunt.

“Oh?” she hums, leaning into the doorframe, “with who?”

The question catches you off guard. Turning around on your heel, you flash her an innocent smile, brain thinking of every possible solution you could use to not tell her that you’re going out with the exact person you’ve spent the last few weeks grunting over in dismay. “No one important,” you start, when her face morphs into a distressed frown.

“Is it Sunwoo?”

“Look, I-”

“It is fucking Sunwoo! I heard you scream into your pillow just now, I should’ve known it was that prick again,” she grunts, her guess confirmed by the very obvious discomfort on your face, suddenly in a hurry when you try to get out of the house in one swift motion and save yourself from the cross-examining conversation that’s surely about to happen judging by the look in Aeri’s face.

“I gotta go-”

“What about all your ‘I don’t ever wanna see him again’ talk?” she sighs, clearly disappointed with your life choices.

“Look, it’s about the songs he’s been putting out. He’s being an ass about replying back to my messages and god knows I’m not calling him, or else he’d record it and put it in another song like the freak he is,” you squint your eyes at her, making sure your intentions are clear to your worried roommate.

“Oh, right, because he’s going out with you just to talk,” she mutters, “when all you two have done since you broke up is argue. Mhm, seems about correct,” Aeri adds, making the situation even worse than it already was, because she’s right, after all– when have the two of you held a normal conversation in the past few weeks? Seeing him tonight might just be the worst idea of your life– right after deciding to date him, of course– and you’re completely aware of the fact.

Opening your mouth to answer with a jarring comment meant to put your roommate back in her place, the words are taken off your tongue when you hear the ring of your phone, the notification on your screen flashing with his messages.

don’t pick up [8:04pm]: youre 5 mins late

don’t pick up [8:05pm]: come out

“Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble as you take your bag off the hanger, Aeri’s disapproving eyes following you as you head towards the door.

“Right. Have fun,” she ironically sings, knowing very well what Kim Sunwoo’s intentions are for the night. Still, you fakely gag to her comment before you’re out the door and walking down the entryway.

As your figure walks out of the apartment complex, you almost don’t notice the man. You were expecting him to be waiting just behind the door, resting against the wall as he usually did back when you two were dating. The sight that meets your eye shocks you a little when you find him leaning against a 2007 Audi A4, the silver exterior of the car contrasting with the darkness of his clothes, hands folded on his chest as he watches you with an overly-confident smirk.

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you finally cut through the distance.

“Didn’t know you were so eager to see me,” you bite back, eyes scanning the vehicle. “Did you finally get a car with that new profession of yours? Or is that another one of your friend’s again?” you point towards the car, making the boy chuckle.

“Mine,” he says, “my ‘good-for-nothing career’ is taking off, as you may have noticed,” he hums, referencing all the arguments you two used to have about his dreams and ambitions, making you wince a little at the comment. You never believed in him ever making it big– you just didn’t think his dreams were ever really realistic– but judging by the way it’s been going for him, you must admit you may have been wrong with your snarky arguments before.

“Well, it’s not much, then,” you mutter instead, pretending to judge the state of his old, used-looking car.

“Gets the job done,” he shrugs as he peels himself off the door, opening the passenger side and sparing you a short glance. “Hop in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t wait for you to sit down so he can close the door after you– instead, he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, getting in himself– much to the gentleman he’s always been. Making sure you slam the door shut with as much force as you can, just to anger the man and his new toy, you fasten your seatbelt and watch as Sunwoo winces, but doesn’t mention it when he turns the engine on with a turn of the key and drives off the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, watching as the male snickers to himself. The calmness of his composure makes you oh so annoyed, making you despise every second spent together with him in the small space breathing in his cologne and listening to the songs playing through the speakers, reminding you of the playlist he’d always put on when he was given the privilege of the aux cord.

“What? Are you scared I’m gonna kill you?” Sunwoo jokes.

“Seeming that you’re batshit crazy, one can’t know what to expect from you nowadays,” you grunt, making him cheese with amusement.

“I thought I was just ‘a loser Soundcloud rapper that can’t do anything in life’,” he repeats to you a sentence you uttered out upon your breakup, the emotions getting the worst out of you after the way he’s been treating you. “Would a loser like me kill you? I don’t think so.”

“Very funny, Sunwoo,” you ironically bite back, rolling your eyes at his composure. The fact that he seemingly has the upper hand on you in the conversation makes you falter a little bit. “I just wanted to talk about the songs you’ve been putting out.”

“You wanted to tell me how much you like them? Thank you, I’m flattered–”

“No, you idiot. I wanted to talk to you about how uncomfortable they’re making me feel!” you yell out, making the male wince.

There’s a momentarily silence in the car as the male drives, the streetlamps disappearing out of sight as he drives away from the city, into more sparse areas. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks up now, the lack of teasing in his tone making shivers run down your spine. “I don’t think it’s that serious, really.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “Because I don’t find it fun when people stop me on the street and ask all about our relationship, Sunwoo. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but you never asked for my permission when you used those.”

The sound of your own voice resonates through your brain, the first voice message he ever used in one of his songs (the one that made him finally more popular, funnily enough) making you sigh out in the darkness of the car. ‘Just.. I dunno, I said sorry, I apologized, I don’t know what more you want me to do.. like, what’s going on? Literally nothing, so like.. can’t we just… move on from this and… fucking let it go?’

“One would think you’d stop sending me these after the first one,” Sunwoo utters out, voice low and almost a little amused, which makes you tip over the edge.

“And I would think you wouldn’t use audio of me being vulnerable with you in a fucking song that everyone would hear, Sunwoo!”

“Oh, did you mean that part where you called me a hypocrite for hanging out with my friends from high school without telling you? Or the part where you cursed me out after you broke up with me because I dared to text you again–”

“I was trying to pierce things back together!” you yell, making the male quiet down, resulting in taking a right turn towards a dead-end, the road approaching a forest. Not a single soul is to be found around here except the two of you, and when he turns the engine off, but stays staring ahead of him towards the trees, you continue with everything you’ve been holding inside of you– instead this time, your voice is more quiet, not having to scream over the sounds of the car anymore.

“I was apologizing. I was trying to make us work, Sunwoo. And just because you didn’t see it or didn’t have it in you to pay attention to me that night, it doesn’t give you the right to exploit me for your gain and make a fool out of me in front of everyone,” you say, watching as the male chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You are the one that broke up with me,” he says into the silence, “not the other way around.”

A moment of silence hangs over you two like a heavy jacket. You were well aware of the fact– you broke up with Sunwoo after the night he went out with all of his female friends from high school, not telling you a thing about it before you found out through an Instagram story of one of them. You knew he was being petty, you knew he was doing it just to get back at you– because you never passed out on a chance to make him feel jealous, getting back at him for all the controlling comments he would make whenever you went out to clubs with your girlfriends– but it still drove you up against the wall and made you break.

Maybe you and Sunwoo weren’t made for each other. There’s no denying that you loved each other– you just didn’t really know how to handle your relationship. You never really learned how to handle problems. How to resolve issues. Both of you were too immature for the other, and it would never work– you only came to this conclusion after many tear-filled evenings, but coming to peace with it is still yet to come.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

The male scoffs, turning his head towards you, meeting your eye. “Did you even listen to the songs?”

“Of course I did, how else would I know–”

“Then you must have noticed that I’m not making fun of you, or putting you on blast, or belittling you, or whatever you and your friends have said about me for the past month,” he counts on his fingers as he recites the words with an annoyed tone, big eyes bearing into yours.

“You exposed me being vulnerable.”

“I’m vulnerable in these too!” he urges out, eyebrows furrowing at you in exasperation.

“That’s your fucking choice! Don’t drag me into it!”

While you must admit that none of the lyrics Sunwoo’s ever written about you were lies, or making fun of you or throwing harsh words in your direction, you still feel as if a chunk of you has been thrown out in the open, for anyone to pick apart and poke around. You always told Sunwoo you liked his way with words, and there is no denying that his lyrics, although they were painfully honest, were quite beautiful. If you weren’t the one the songs were about, maybe you’d even like them. Maybe you could give them a listen without feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Maybe you could add them to your playlist without feeling ashamed that you’re still thinking about the male, picking apart your relationship like every outsider has been doing since the songs went viral, but instead, finding places where you could’ve done things differently and kept him by your side.

It was hard to listen to his words and see the reflections of your past flashing in front of your eyes like a movie. While you admit that he did the timeline of your relationship justice, you do despise the fact that his words are getting to you so much.

You don’t like hearing about the things you’ve done wrong. You don’t like listening to him apologize– although he would never do so directly. You don’t like to hear him say that he misses you, because it makes it hard for you to keep your fair distance from him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you drive me home, Sunwoo? We’re clearly not on the same page about this,” you say, averting your gaze from him towards the window.

“No.”

“Sunwoo, can you please drive me–”

“Not until we talk about this, no,” he says firmly, watching you foam over with fury.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Us!”

“There’s no us anymore, Sunwoo! And I think it’s the time you come to terms with that and stop abusing our failed relationship for your stupid songs,” you bark, throwing daggers into his skull with your fierce eyes.

“So you get to go and post angry tweets and badmouth me in front of your friends, but when I cope in a perfectly respectful manner, it’s wrong?” he argues, scoffing and shaking his head at you.

“God, you’re unbelievable. You’re comparing two vastly different things–”

“Do you not like the songs because you feel exposed, or do you not like them because I’m saying exactly what you don’t want to hear?” he asks, eyes bearing into yours with such heaviness you feel like you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Like what? That you think I regret breaking up with you?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why else would you pick a fight with me every time I call? Why pick it up at all?”

“Why do you call, then?” you challenge him, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The male leans closer to you, sparks dancing in his eyes when his voice resonates through the car like a low thunder, making the tips of your fingertips buzz and your heart beat faster.

“You know exactly why I call.”

“To make me angry and get me to scream at you?”

“If that means I get to talk to you,” he shrugs, a subtle grin overtaking his features, a churn of your stomach warning you of the dangerous area you just entered.

Eyes never breaking contact with his, relishing in the way his hungry gaze picks you apart, you attempt to conceal your true feelings with an annoyed comment. “This isn’t going anywhere,” you muse, “god, I never wanna see your face again.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, teasing you. “That’s what you said last time,” he says, “so what are you doing in my car then, babydoll?”

The pet name makes your stomach drop, the lightness in your head coming back to you as you furrow your brows at the male, trying hard to come up with a smart remark. Your brain turns into liquid and there’s buzzing in your ears as you try to focus on staying calm and true to your best judgment, but the moment Sunwoo’s head leans even closer to your face, his words render you both speechless and thoughtless as he mutters a sentence that’s barely louder than a whisper, yet powerful enough to pull you in.

“Stop fighting me for once, will you?”

Your lips are pushed against his with force, the kiss mirroring the essence of being starved of each other for the past month. His plush lips move against yours with the skill that only a man you’ve spent tens and hundreds of nights kissing would acquire, his hand placed on your jaw to steady you, adjusting the pace of his kisses just the way you always liked it.

A force that’s greater than yourself brings you out of your seat and into the driver’s lap, giving the male better access to your throat as you settle comfortably under your newly acquired human chair. His strong thighs flex under you when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him back up to connect your lips together before he breathlessly pulls away, gazing at you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why did we even break up again?” he jokes.

You reply to him with the same lightness of your tone, shrugging. “Because you were a jealous, possessive prick and I had a short temper that always egged you on?” you say, watching as the male pretends to ponder on the information, humming to himself.

“I think I can put that past me.”

“Can you?” you joke, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, a sly smirk playing with your lips as you lean over him and press a firm, yet short peck to his swollen lips. “Or will you make another mediocre song about it?”

“Don’t call them mediocre,” he squints at you, eyes tracing your face when your hands slip further down his face to cradle his jaw, thumbs padding his lips.

“I easily outdid you on your own song, Kim Sunwoo.”

“That’s why I add you in, actually.”

“Really?” you snicker, tone full of fake disbelief. His hands hold your sides when you lean over the man and latch yourself to his neck, dragging out kisses up and down his warm skin. “Will you make a song for each of our arguments, then?”

Teeth scraping the skin of his throat, you find the male humming under you in pleasure and satisfaction. He has you right where he wanted you– and although this is not how you imagined the night to go, you don’t find yourself disappointed with the turn of events. The previous annoyance is still there, but now is shielded by the need in you, the longing for him you can’t really battle whenever he is around.

Settling deeper against his body, you feel the male slip one hand into your hair, tugging at the roots of your hair gently to bring your face back to his, averting your attention away from the love bites you’ve been placing on his skin.

“Unless you give me another topic to write about,” he suggests, his hungry lips swallowing your reply.

You and Sunwoo were never really good for each other. Too messy, too turbulent, but too consumed with the other to ever truly let go. Seeing him tonight surely wasn’t the best of your ideas– but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t silently hope the evening would turn out this way.

You and Sunwoo were never the ones to make good decisions when it came to the other one anyway. What’s one another badly calculated step in your relationship gonna do?

287 notes · View notes

f1bordeaux · 9 months

Text

If You Cared (part 2) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.2+k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Here is part 2! The angst literally hasn't began yet there is so much more to come you might hate me by the end of this lol srry ;) Also! If you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

“How are you feeling?”

You don’t turn around, already aware of who is speaking to you. Instead, you remain sat on the edge of the pool, feet lightly swinging through the water. There is a lot of noise coming from the house, people talking, laughing, sharing a drink or two. Outside, however, it is quiet. The comotion becomes a background noise that is masked by the chirping of crickets and the ocean waves only a few kilometers away. It is calm, it is dark, it is peaceful.

Mia sat down next to you, keeping her knees tucked into her chest. “I’m fine.” You say.

“Dinner was-”

“Tense.” You answer for her. And it was. Dinner was a never ending slew of compliments to Max, your family praising him and his family bragging about him. Did he deserve the comments made towards him? Absolutely. He was a phenomenal driver, something you couldn’t even deny. Max knew what he was doing on the track like it was second nature. Maybe it was second nature to him. But, all you could think about was the boy who left you. The boy who turned his back so quickly that he couldn’t even hear you cry. The boy who took everything from you just to disappear a few years later.

“Yeah.” Mia said. “Tense.”

Silence came quickly after that, the two of you just taking in the atmosphere around you. The sun had long set, the heat had long gone. The pool lights casted a turquoise glow over the backyard. It was beautiful. You remembered running across the tiles as a kid, jumping into the pool at late hours of the night. Max and you would be playing together and Mia and Victoria would be on their own. Life was good then. Life was simple.

The patio door slid open, unbeknown to you. Mia turned to look, however, eyes going wide when she saw who it was. With her lips flattened to a line, she rested a hand on your shoulder before standing up. “Try not to ruin your own summer, y/n.”

With that she was gone, her body being replaced by another. “Care if I sit with you?”

Again, you knew the voice before you saw the face. Max lowered himself to the ground, sticking his feet in the water right next to you. He was so close that if you moved over, just an inch, your thigh would be flush against his. You wonder if he’s just as warm as he used to be. You wonder if his skin feels just as soft as it once had. You think of a lot of things as Max kicks his feet through the water.

“We haven't had a chance to talk-”

“Since you left?”

He sniffles, leaning back on his palms. “I was going to say since I got here.”

“That works too.” You say. There are two ways to proceed. You can either cause a huge comotion, letting him know that-hey, maybe you were not over him. Maybe you still envied him for making you fall in love with him and then disappearing off the face of the earth. Maybe you guys could have made it work but he didn’t even bother trying. Or, you could do as you told yourself a week ago and move on. Let yourself have a good summer. Let the hurt come in waves but dont show it. Maybe you can outgrow it this year. “How was your flight?”

He looks at you, almost confused-like. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say. “Uh, good. The Florence airport was packed but once we got over here everything was fine.”

You nod, looking down at the water. “Good, good.”

“How’s work been? I hear you work at a museum in New York.”

“Yeah, the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“Wow,” He shakes his head in approval. You don't need his approval, but you wonder what he really thinks of your job. Does he think you wasted your life? Does he think that your job is cool? At least you didn’t work at a McDonalds, right? “That sounds fancy. I can’t say I’ve been.”

“Have you ever been to New York in general?”

“No.”

You chuckle. It feels wrong to do so, but you can't help the small laugh that brushes past your lips. His dry humor is still intact you notice. What else is still the same about him? You haven’t heard him laugh yet, so you wonder if it sounds the same as before-boyish and cute. Does he still play FIFA like no tomorrow? Is his favorite color still blue?

“Do you remember jumping into the pool at like midnight as kids?” His hoarse voice cuts your train of thought in two. “Your mom would yell at us because she wanted to go to bed but now she had to make sure we showered.”

“I was just thinking about that earlier.” You want to slap yourself across the face as you say that sentence. You were thinking about him? There goes your ‘I dont give a fuck about him anymore’ deminer.

But he smiles, exhaling through his nose as he turns to look at you. “Where’d the time go?”

“I wish I knew, Max.” You say, pulling your legs from the pool. Slowly, you walk to the back door, the orange glow from the inside light painting your skin shades of golds and browns. You look almost like an angel, like a God. Max notices it. Max notices a lot of things. “Goodnight.”

He sighs from behind you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

That night after a long, cold shower, you sit at the desk in your room, looking over the backyard and pool you had just conversed at. Your palm rests on a handle to one of the top drawers, and you fight yourself on whether or not to open it. You know what's in there. You know what you’re getting yourself into. But you don’t know if you want that pain or not. It was like Pandora’s box. If you got sucked in-which you knew was about to happen-there would be no escape. You would be heartbroken all over again.

Fuck it.

You pulled the drawer open, the contents shifting forward. There were photos-hundreds of photos-and two letters. There were two pens, a pink one and a blue one, there was a small fabric square, and there were a pair of glasses. Everything, save the photos, belonged to Max. The letters, you knew, would tear you apart to read. So, you pushed those aside, opting to pick up a small stack of photos. On the back in Sharpie ink they said, 2008. You and him were 10. Your birthday wasn’t until winter-his in fall only two months apart from yours.

Pulling the rubberband away, you studied the photos. You, Mia, Luca and Victoria in the pool. You, Max, Luca and Mia eating dinner at some restaurant. Max and Luca on bicycles. Victoria and you hugging on the beach. The sunset over the backyard. Max and you, lying together on the couch tucked underneath six or so blankets, fast asleep. His arm was around you, your cheeks pressed against one another. You smiled to yourself as you felt your throat closing up. “This sucks.” You whispered.

It did suck. You just simply couldn’t understand why Max didn’t want to try. It’s not like you guys were neighbors at the time. You only saw one another during the summer, but you were still friends during the rest of the year. Why would any of that change just because he was getting popular in driving? The only obvious reason was because he didn’t want you around. He didn’t want you. It could have worked if he would have tried. But he didn’t, so why should you spend your summer trying to mend the bridge he burned?

You threw all the photos back into the drawer, slamming it shut. You turned off the lamp desk and walked to your bed in the pitch black. Whatever was meant to happen, would happen. With or without Max.

“You’re sure you don't want to come?” Mia asks through your cracked open door. “Max-”

“She said no.” Luca pushes her aside, sticking his head in your room. Your attention was buried in your phone, mindlessly scrolling through some form of social media. You couldn’t see Luca’s childish grin or Mia’s worrying features. “I’ll bring you back some waffles or something, y/n.”

“Whatever, Luca.” You responded. He stuck his tongue out, making a spitting noise before slamming your door shut so hard you were afraid it would fall off the hinges. “Luca!”

It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with your little brother. Actually, it was never a good time to be dealing with your little brother. He’d woken you up, close to four am, to ask if you wanted to go grab breakfast and watch the sunset. You declined his offer, opting to stay in bed just a little longer. Plus, if everyone was going, Max was going. The last thing you wanted was to watch the sunrise with Max. So, you hid under the covers for a little longer, feeling the ceiling fan drag cold air on your exposed skin.

You heard the front door close from downstairs, a signal that you were finally alone. Slowly, you rose from your bed, taking long strides across the room. Just because you didn’t want to watch the sunset with everyone didn’t mean you wanted to miss out on it. There would be a perfect view from the backyard or from the beach only a quick walk away. You sombered through the house, a soft, chilling blue being cast through the windows. You loved this time of day, before the sun was up, before the heat settled into the ground, before the world was really active. It was so serene.

“Good morning.”

You paused at your spot on the base of the steps. Max stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. “You didn’t-why didn’t you-”

He shrugged as you struggled to speak. “I thought you were going. I didn’t want to bother.”

Guilt trip me, perfect. “Max, you shouldn’t base your itinerary on what I’m doing.” You said.

“So then why didn’t you go?”

“Fair point.”

He laughed, bringing his water to his lips. Yeah, you thought. He still has the same boyish laugh. “Come,�� He said, holding his hand across the kitchen island. You stepped closer, although hesitantly. “Let's watch the sunrise and hash out whatever this is.”

Face your fears? Speak to Max about the problem at hand? Explain to him that you aren't over the loss of his presence in your life? Your stomach churned at the idea. Your stomach churned even more when you realized that you were only wearing a large tshirt and some underwear that was barely covered by the hem of the shirt. Instantly, your cheeks heated up, the back of your hand going to cool one side down. God you should have gone to breakfast.

Max raised his eyebrows, closing his hand before reopening it. “Well?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” You said, grabbing a blanket before grabbing his hand. He knew you looked good-effortlessly good. You had just gotten out of bed and still you looked perfect. Your lips were plump, your eyelashes were so long and dark, your skin was glowing. He thought you looked better now than any dolled-up girl he’d met in Monaco. You looked so good just existing, but he didn’t think he’d be able to say that to your face.

The two of you walked outside, sitting in the patio chairs facing the ocean. He cleared his throat, turning to look at you as you draped the blanket over your legs. “I’m sorry.”

“Max-”

“You deserved better. I had no right to make you fall in love with me and then just go. I knew I’d leave so I should have never ruined what special bond you and I had. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Your jaw was practically on the floor as he spoke. Where was this coming from? What prompted him to say this? “I-I’m speechless.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but can we have a few weeks that are similar to our childhood? Just me and you doing dumb stuff that we shouldn’t be doing? Making memories that we’ll tell people for decades?” He looks right into your eyes as he speaks, something he never really does. There is this soft sparkle in his eyes, this soft dazzling glow. He looks amazed, he looks taken aback. He looks so-pretty? God, the way his voice was dancing through your ears, the way his hair looked-still messy from getting out of bed-the way his hands fidgeted with one another, the way a faint blush dusted his cheeks-Max looked so desirable right now. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, to feel his warm, plush lips on your own.

You forced yourself to look away, afraid of what would pursue if you didn't. The sun had partly peaked over the oceanline. Give him a chance, you told yourself. What's the worst that could happen? He knows he fucked up and wont make that mistake again. Neither will you. “Yeah,” You finally say. He provides a relieved smile. “Yeah, let’s have a good summer, Max.”

Continuation tags:@hanversace

301 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

canali-di-ispirazione-blog

Paint in Bright colours

thetyifs

TV Fanatic 🦇

fithung

Muscle

takarai-i

宝井理人

taiyolux

Taiyo太陽 Lux❀