#something seulgi will never write | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

Text

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you.

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers.

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment.

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow.

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.”

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it.

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth.

“Jihoon, wait-”

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!”

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd.

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here.

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?”

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?”

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket.

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.”

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh.

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that?

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit.

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!”

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.”

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little.

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!”

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students.

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit.

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage.

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!”

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully: “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…”

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-”

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss.

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly.

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?”

“Yep.”

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?” _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.”

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.”

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board.

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows.

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await.

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.”

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?”

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you.

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.”

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..”

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.”

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.”

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her?

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!”

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips.

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more.

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-”

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.”

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.”

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you.

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.” _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed.

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?”

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!”

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.”

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.”

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you?

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?”

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed.

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?”

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!”

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.”

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation.

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.”

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.”

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you.

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you.

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims.

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?”

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.”

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!”

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!”

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!”

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…”

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too.

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?”

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!”

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.”

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!”

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!”

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.”

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.”

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes.

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!”

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…”

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!”

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’.

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich.

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!”

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily.

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head.

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?”

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.”

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.”

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!”

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.” _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening.

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on.

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you?

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..”

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-”

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this.

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice-

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!”

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?”

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-”

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!”

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you.

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.”

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?”

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.”

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?”

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word.

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet.

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.”

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.”

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh.

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!”

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile.

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?”

“Hm?”

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?”

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.”

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?”

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where-

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house.

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have.

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?” _____________________________

“Jihoon?”

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers.

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.”

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?”

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh.”

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street.

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch.

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor.

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring.

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-”

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-”

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-”

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him.

There are flowers in his hands.

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code.

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.”

He nods.

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers.

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?”

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?”

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?”

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest.

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted, cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love.

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.”

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.”

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy.

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you.

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again.

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy.

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it.

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy.

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him.

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?”

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-”

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts.

“Sorry, it was just-”

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.”

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?”

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers.

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously.

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit.

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?”

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth.

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side.

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.”

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling.

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again.

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.”

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile.

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.”

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.”

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.”

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.”

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan.

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-”

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?”

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?”

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.”

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.”

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you.

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively.

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious.

“... Are you still hard?”

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised.

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along.

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.”

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing.

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.”

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..”

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse.

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior.

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.”

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins.

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

#svt smut #svt x reader #woozi smut #woozi angst #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #svt angst

2K notes · View notes

wheeboo · 5 months

Text

in bloom | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which you struggle to tell your husband something that can make or break your relationship. PAIRING. idol!husband!kim mingyu x afab!reader (ft. best friend!seulgi) GENRE. fluff, established relationship, idol au, pregnancy au, comfort WARNINGS. reader is pregnant and has female reproductive organs, vague mentions of intimate relations, mentions of fatigue and throwing up, terms of endearment, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.5k

requested from anon: idol!husband!mingyu x reader where you find out ur pregnant, and youre nervous to tell mingyu <3

notes: this is my second time ever writing a pregnancy au (first time on this blog), so... i hope u enjoy! i had too much fun with this lol

Being in the bathroom has never been this suffocating before. It's embarrassing, because literally anyone can walk in and hear the way you've been hacking over the toilet the past couple of days just like at your workplace, but the sudden bursts of nausea leaves you with no other option. You take a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself, and finally manage to stand up straight.

The little stick trembles in your hand, and as you peer down at the result, you swear you can feel the world around you completely stop. The two unmistakable lines are staring down at you through the small window of the test. You blink a few times, shaking the test even, as if hoping the lines will disappear or change, but they only remain.

It takes a moment for the reality to sink in. You're going to be a parent. A million thoughts race through your mind, and amidst the chaos, one question stands out: how do you share this with Mingyu?

Your husband is an idol, for God's sake. You've already seen the intensity of his schedule, the rigorous demands of his career, and the constant scrutiny from the public that has negatively affected other celebrities too. It feels as if you're going to be dropping a bombshell down on him.

You both always been careful when being intimate. And though you've had your conversations together about what it would be like to start a family, you never imagined it would happen quite like this, right at this moment when your husband has been reaching the peak of his career and is constantly in the spotlight. The timing couldn't be more unexpected, yet here you are, holding the proof of the little life growing within you.

Bringing the test out of sight, you splash some water on your face, taking a moment to collect yourself, before calmly making your way out of your bathroom, even with the anxious pounding of your heart feeling like it's bouncing off the walls of your place. And then suddenly, you're met with Seulgi running up to you from your living room.

"Well?" she asks, hands clasping together in excitement and an eager smile spreading across her face.

You turn towards her, and for some reason seeing the way your best friend's eyes are literally glowing with curiosity and anticipation almost makes you want to pull her in for a hug and sob into her shoulders. But you can't do that𑁋you're still struggling to process everything.

Instead, you take the pregnancy test out and show it to her.

Seulgi's eyes widen, and her hands fly to her mouth in disbelief.

"No way! Are you serious?" she whispers loudly, staring down at the test just to make sure.

"Yeah, I..." You take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Seulgi just squeals, unable to contain her joy. She pulls you into a tight hug that makes you let out a groan at the sudden pressure over your tired body, yet you feel a sense of relief and happiness sharing this moment with someone close.

"Sorry! Oh my gosh, I feel like crying. This is𑁋I'm so happy for you!" Seulgi exclaims as she lets you go, holding your shoulders at arm's length and bouncing up and down happily.

The two of you share a knowing smile with each other. And as Seulgi catches sight of the way your smile doesn't seem as bright as hers, the way it doesn't seem to reach to your ears, she takes a step back, concern etching across her face.

Seulgi takes your hands in hers. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

You let out a sigh. "I'm... I'm just overwhelmed, you know? It's a lot to take in, especially considering Mingyu's schedule and everything."

Seulgi squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'm sure he will be over the moon, Y/N. He loves you more than anything."

Her words seem to offer comfort, but a lingering worry tugs at the edges of your thoughts. Seulgi senses your unease and pulls you into this time, a gentle hug.

"Listen," she says softly, rubbing her hands up and down your back comfortingly. "Mingyu is your husband. He loves you, and this is something you both have talked about before, right? You both will figure things out, so don't worry too much, okay?"

Feeling a bit more reassured, you manage a small smile. "You're right. I... I just need to find the right time to tell him."

When you both pull away from each other, Seulgi just grins.

"You'll know when the time is right, Y/N," she says, taking another glance down at the test out of excitement once again. "I'm going to be an auntie and spoil that little one rotten!"

You only let out a laugh and playfully shove her away, a lightness in your heart gradually replacing the worry in your bones.

It's been hard trying to conceal away the fatigue whenever you and Mingyu wake up together in the morning and the subtle changes in your eating habits, but you've managed to keep it under wraps so far, constantly playing it off as stress or tiredness, though you do marvel at how your husband is just a little more oblivious than you thought.

Seulgi has been nagging you almost every day to take it easy and to share the news with Mingyu. And as the days pass, the weight of the unspoken truth feels heavier, and you realise that the longer you wait, the more difficult it becomes to find the perfect moment.

So you decide to act on it. You venture to the grocery store to buy some ingredients, and prepare a romantic, intimate dinner at home. You hope that it could help clear away the cloud of anxiety running through your mind and encourage you to finally tell him once and for all.

As the savoury aroma wafts through your home, you set the table with care, ensuring everything is just right. And when you overhear the familiar clicks of the locks at the front door, you take a deep breath, your heart beating a little faster, and slowly make your way to greet him.

Mingyu walks in his almost disheveled glory, a charming mess that somehow makes him even more endearing. His tall, strong frame moves with a grace that seems effortless. You can tell the day has left its mark on him, evident in the slight weariness around his eyes, but there's an unmistakable warmth and charm that lingers in the way he carries himself.

When he catches sight of you, his eyes lock onto yours, and a smile spreads across his face, seemingly erasing any signs of fatigue.

"Hey, beautiful," he greets, closing the door behind him and coming up to you to place a sweet kiss to your lips, like he always does. Then he gestures towards the table. "What's all this?"

A shy smile plays on your lips as you take his hand and lead him to the table. "I thought we could have a special dinner tonight. Just the two of us."

He quirks a teasing eyebrow up, eyes scanning over your face. "Did I forget something?"

You shake your head. "No, you didn't forget anything, honey. I... just missed spending some quality time with you. That's all."

Mingyu's expression softens, and he pulls out a chair for you. God, you love him. "Well, I'm all yours tonight."

As the two of you begin to share the carefully prepared meal, the tension in the room slowly dissipates. He tells you about the recent preparations for his group's performance at an upcoming award show, and you update him on all the latest gossip at your workplace.

You love the sense of normalcy returning to your evening and being with him after such an eventful day. Yet within you, the anticipation courses through your veins beneath the surface of your composed act.

It becomes a bit too hard to handle that you have to dismiss yourself to the bathroom to calm yourself down.

Your hands clutch the countertop as you take a deep breath and lock eyes with yourself in the mirror. The reality of the situation dawns on you anew, the nerves doing nothing but making you overthink. It's a blend of excitement and anxiety, and it makes you tighten your grip on the cold surface of the sink.

You look down at your pocket, where the pregnancy test is safely tucked away. You know you can't postpone this moment any longer.

You've imagined the two of you as parents so many times𑁋waking up together and preparing breakfast for a little one, taking family trips, and experiencing the joy of watching your child grow before your eyes. Envisioning this kind of future with Mingyu has always been a dream, and now that it's becoming a reality, the knot in your stomach tightens.

When you head out of the bathroom, you catch sight of your husband already tidying up and washing your dishes under the dim kitchen light. And for some reason the sight alone is enough to send a surge of warmth through you and make your heart leap out of your chest. You married this man, decided to devote your entire life to him despite the complications with his career, and now, you're about to share a piece of both of you with him.

He dries his hands upon noticing you coming up. Then he looks at you with those warm, loving eyes, and it hits you like a wave𑁋the realisation that this incredible man, who has been your rock, your love, and your partner in all aspects of life, is going to be the father of your child. Just in that moment alone, you swear you fell in love with him all over again.

"Hi, angel." He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together and you can feel his wedding ring pressing against your skin, giving you a playful twirl before pulling you into his arms. "What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

You smile softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Mingyu has this uncanny ability to make you feel safe, and right now, you need that more than ever.

"Nothing, just..." You bring a thumb up to brush over his skin. "Thinking about you."

Mingyu giggles heartily, pushing back some hair away from your face. "Oh, yeah?" His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, is it good thoughts?”

You only give him a sly grin. "Always."

Mingyu just pulls you even closer, his hands making their way down to hold you lightly at the waist.

"Good, because..." He leans in, pressing a kiss to the spot behind your ear. "I've been thinking about you too."

You laugh softly, relishing the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. When he pulls away, your gazes meet together, and you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. This is it𑁋the moment you've been waiting for.

"Can you close your eyes for me?" You whisper, a nervous but hopeful smile playing on your lips.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What's this, a surprise?"

You nod, trying to conceal the trembling excitement in your voice. "Just close your eyes, honey. Trust me."

He chuckles but obliges anyway, shutting his eyes and wearing a curious grin. You take a moment to compose yourself, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. With a deep breath, you retrieve the pregnancy test from your pocket and carefully place it into his hand.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Mingyu blinks his eyes open, and as he sees the pregnancy test in his hand, his expression transforms from curiosity to bewilderment. He looks down at the test, then back at you, his eyes widening with realisation.

"I𑁋is this...?"

"Yeah, we're..." Your words trail off for a second, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. "We're going to be parents."

Mingyu's eyes widen even further, and for a moment, he seems frozen in place. The seconds only continue stretch, feeling like an eternity in the utter silence of your place. You watch the flicker of emotions on his face𑁋surprise, confusion, shock, joy, and a hint of nervousness.

Then, as if a switch is flipped, a radiant smile breaks across his features. Before you can say something, you find yourself being lifted up and sat on the island of your kitchen with Mingyu standing between your legs.

"W-We're going to have a baby?" he stammers, as if the test wasn't enough to convince him and he needs to hear it from your own lips.

You cup his face with your hands. "Yes. We're... we're going to be parents, Gyu."

That's all it takes him for to kiss you, a gentle yet fervent kiss that feels enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Smiles emerge on both of your faces, laughter leaves your lips as he peppers kisses now all over your face.

"I can't believe it," he says between kisses, before pulling away to look at you. There's something a bit different in the way he's looking at you now, something deeper, more profound. "You're carrying our baby. I'm... I'm going to be a dad."

He gently rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your face.

"We're going to be parents," he repeats, savouring the words on his tongue. He knows that phrase will be repeating in his head for the longest time. "I can't believe how lucky I am."

You kiss him again. The kitchen seems to glow with warmth and love as Mingyu holds you close, refusing to pull away anytime soon.

A pair of large arms sneak around you, the soft light of the morning seeping in through the small window and bathing your bathroom in an relaxing, ethereal glow. Mingyu nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his familiar scent wrapping around you comfortingly.

"Good morning, my love," he whispers, lips grazing against your ear.

You dry your face with a towel, letting out a contented sigh as you relax into his embrace. "Good morning."

As the quietness of the morning takes over, you feel Mingyu's hand drift a little lower, before stopping right at the hem of your shirt.

"Can I?" he asks carefully.

You can't help but grin. "You know I'm not even showing yet, right?"

Mingyu just smiles meekly against your skin. "I know. I just want to feel close to the both of you."

So with a nod, you feel his hand make its way under your shirt and gently rest on your stomach. It's only been a day since you've told him, yet he traces over your skin with such tenderness that it makes your heart swell with right out of your chest. He's always been this gentle with you, treating you with the utmost care and love as if you're the most delicate treasure he's ever held. And now, knowing that he's going to extend that same love to the tiny life growing within you, it brings heat to your eyes.

You lean back into him, relishing the warmth of his touch.

As his hand comes to a stop, he places his head on your shoulder. "This is real, isn't it?"

You cup over his hand with yours, following the way he's caressing over your stomach. "Very real."

Mingyu presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, and one to your shoulder blade.

"I love you," he murmurs into your skin. "I love you both so much."

His words linger in the hushed bathroom, and you both stand there for a little while, simply basking in the warmth of the moment knowing that your little family is now in bloom.

"I love you too," You finally reply, turning so that you can face him. "We love you too."

Mingyu just pulls you close and kisses you once more. He will never get tired of hearing that.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts

#kflixnet #k-labels #caratsland #caratlibrary #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu x reader #svt imagines #svt fic #svt fluff #svt x reader

835 notes · View notes

lovelaetter · 9 months

Text

I'LL MAKE YOU CRY — a 2k celebration work.

here are two things about you: one, you always had a weakness for pretty girls, and two, you've never been good at dealing with not getting the things you want.

word count: 3.7k

pairing: sub!idol!ningning x dom!idol!reader.

warnings: abuse of power, age difference (reader is a 2nd gen idol, in her 30s), noncon turned dubcon, semi-public sex, reader is a manipulative mean bitch with mommy dom vibes and is proud of it, ningning is just a confused, stupid baby and her brain goes fuzzy around older women, excess of en-dashes and italics because that’s how your fav author here is.

a/n: i need to stop mentioning a fic and then writing something completely different... anyways, this idea came to me after @wintersera sent me an ask (which i hope you don’t mind me writing this instead of answering, love), let’s say something clicked inside my head instantly. also, this was supposed to be way more noncon-ish but i wasn’t satisfied to how it was going. go to end of the work for more notes!

Bo-Ah caught you looking at Seulgi for too long one day and made sure to pinpoint how your weakness for pretty girls would get you in trouble, not exactly in those words but it was what she meant and neither as a scold but in a friend-ly, you will get in trouble and i won’t help you with it because i warned you enough way. It didn’t mean anything to you at the time as you met someone else and Seulgi no longer occupied space in your mind but now you see how that didn’t make her less right.

As hard as it is to believe, you didn’t drag Ningning to your dressing room with sex in mind. Sure, as the new object of your affection you had thought of it with her before, but your intentions today were genuine and nice, truly.

A break during the end of the year performance rehearsals and recordings, leading her through the SM’s building corridors, sitting down together in your room. An offer— you see, I’m working on my next album and there’s this song that I really want to include but it feels like it’s missing something, realization dawning in her face, and I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now, i’ve talked to the producers, they think it’s a good idea, that our voices fit… I could’ve asked someone else to talk to you obviously but I thought a more personal approach would be nicer. So, what do you think? Would you like to collaborate with— and a lovely reception, an eagerness to accept like you’ve never seen before, cutting you off— yes!, looking down in embarrassment right away but not holding back the biggest smile, I mean, of course, it would be an honor.

So no, you didn’t had sex in mind and yet, being alone with her, you allowed your mind to wander.

“You are a really pretty girl,” you say after a few minutes in silence just staring at her.

“Thank you,” she says, so low you barely hear it and flinches when you suddenly slide closer to her from your spot, elbow on the back of the couch, trapping her in place.

It happens too fast and in the end, Bo-Ah surely wasn’t wrong. Your hand rests on her knee for a moment, sliding up, up slowly, taking hold of her thigh — you’re looking for putting yourself in trouble at this point. Ningning follows your touch up her leg with her gaze, watches your hand for a moment before looking back at you, promptly parting her lips to speak.

Maybe it was the wide eyes, shining for you with a glimpse of fear and confusion or the so pretty, plump lips that she insisted on running her pink tongue over or the blush painting her cheeks or— maybe it was everything and the months of watching her from afar, fantasizing about her, it’s not the point, all it matters is that before she can say anything you lurch forward, lips crashing onto hers. Takes a moment for her to react, frozen, and when she does it’s what the part of you with a good sense of morality expects, using all in her to push you away.

Closes her legs so hard your wrist hurts, fists against your chest while squirming and whines and stops and what are you doings are falling from her mouth. Impatience creeps up your spine and you snap yanking your hand from between her thighs, taking one of her wrists in hand roughly, snorting, so close to her face your breaths mix. She tries to break free for a moment more, chest up and down fast while staring at your not-so-happy face.

Tilting your head to the side and arching an eyebrow like who asks you’re done?, says, “I’ve never been good at dealing with not getting what I want,” you lean over to whisper in her ear, “Also, I heard Minjeong would love to collaborate with me. Once in a lifetime opportunity, you know?

It’s cruel the way you say it and she’s not stupid, knows how to put two and two together, the tears sliding free down her cheeks. Whimpers as your lips move from her earlobe to her jaw and down her neck, easing your grip on her wrist and the hand on your chest pushing you away drops to her lap. You grin against her skin and mutter a good girl, hand crawling under her shirt to grab her waist, pulling her more into your body. Part of your brain tells you to snap, to tear her clothes from her, take her like you always imagined, but the other part knows better than scaring her more and that time isn’t in your favor; you’ve been away with her for a few minutes, you still have a performance to record and soon the break will be over and someone will come looking for both of you.

Looking at her you can’t help but coo when she gasps as your fingers slide under the hem of her bra and grope one of her tits, a smirk taking place in your lips. “No, honey, not like that, come on, let me see you,” as she tries to turn her head, your other hand taking hold of her jaw and forcing her to keep looking at you.

You’ve fucked many girls in your life and yet, the euphoria that fills you upon hearing her moan and seeing her expression as you touch her is something completely new.

Her skin is feverish and your hands too cold making her shiver, not so gently taking one of her nipples between thumb and point finger, rolling and pulling it, eyebrows twitching and a whimper escaping past her lips. It’s accidental, her hands flying instantly to cover her mouth, and barely audible but enough to go straight to your core, to have you squeezing your legs looking for relief.

“You are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” You say in a low tone, never breaking eye contact with her, “What about this?”

Your free hand follows the same path as the other underneath her shirt and her back arches in a wordless answer. There’s a sick satisfaction in making her fall apart while she insists it doesn’t feel good, in seeing her body betray her pleas for you to stop.

“Take this off,” you rush, pulling her shirt up. Ningning refuses to put her arms up and tries to pry your hands away from her body, claw-like nails digging into your arms as she keeps begging for you to stop but you don’t hesitate on slapping her hands away, forcing her arms up as well as her shirt in a swift movement. She stills, stares at you dumbfounded and you scoff, “What? It’s okay to play with your little tits but you draw the line at me seeing them?”

It’s not okay and you know it. She tries again to push you away when you lean closer to reach behind her back and open her bra, failing to realize her position between the couch and yourself and that all her squirming only gets her body more and more into yours. She stops then as the straps slide down her arms and the piece falls to her lap, chest to chest with you, her face twisting and there’s that noise again, the whimper that makes your insides burn. She looks too pretty, teary wide eyes and blushed cheeks, lips parted and tempting you for a kiss. The idea of sitting on her face crosses your mind and the mere thought of her looking up at you from between your legs with the same wide eyes makes your hole clench around nothing, you can feel yourself growing slick.

But now your tongue craves to taste her much more than your own cunt craves her mouth.

Even her skin tastes nice on your tongue, going gooseflesh as you suck on a certain point of her neck and the effect it has on her is some kind of sorcery. She seems to forget everything; the struggling, the begging, where you two are. Fails to keep quiet when your mouth reaches her breasts, taking one nipple gently between teeth and sucking it greedily. You feel her bucking her hips, searching for friction, and glance up at her, seeing the way she covers her mouth with a hand trying to muffle her noises, tears rolling down her cheeks while she stares into your eyes with a certain look that makes you grin against her chest — no more fear or disgust but shame for liking it something so vile being done against her.

After a few minutes you pull back to admire your work, her chest heaving, puffy nipples shining with spit and even though you know better than to leave marks, the bruise looks cute on the soft underside of her breast. Your hand slides down her belly in no time, toying with the hem of her sweatpants for a moment before sliding further down between her legs and she begins squirming again, gripping on your shoulder and trying to push you away in vain, making you chuckle, watching her face carefully.

It’s a sight to see, the way her fighting merges with acceptance, clenched fists against your chest at the same time she lifts one leg so her foot can rest on the couch, unconsciously — or not — spreading herself and making it much easier for you to feel her soaked entrance through her underwear. Suddenly so quiet as you pull it to the side, no stops or crying or begging, only a shaky you’re sick cut off by a moan as a finger slides inside her.

It takes one, two, three slow ins and outs and the press of your thumb on her clit to have her melting, hands that once pushed you away now grabbing onto your shirt just for the sake of it, pliant under you like you wanted her to be from the beginning. Still, it’s not enough.

Your movements slow down almost to the point of stopping, no other choice for her but move on her own trying to feel something and you let her.

“Ningning?” She hums absently in answer, more cunt-thinking than anything else. You kiss her cheek lovingly and drag your lips to her ear to whisper, “Why aren’t you screaming?”

Ningning stills and frowns, blinking at you. “What?”

“Why aren’t you screaming? I never tried to stop you from doing so.”

She just stares at you in confusion, mouth open-close-open-close like a fish out of water, “I don’t—”

“None of that! Just admit it, silly girl, it’s nice, isn’t it?” She moans loudly as your thumb is suddenly too fast and slippery over her clit and your hand is fast over her mouth, hissing quiet! through teeth. “I’ll ask you again, why aren’t you screaming?”

You uncover her mouth and she takes a few deep breaths. She looks down between your bodies, at where your hand disappears and moves inside her pants and the squelching noises get louder as her hole gets wetter around your finger. When she looks back at you, her lips tremble and the tears are back in her eyes, ready to spill. It’s really quiet, between sniffs and if you weren’t so close to her you certainly wouldn’t have heard it, “Because… Because I like it?”

There she is.

“You do?” Your smile is so big your cheeks hurt, voice sugar coated and you know you look crazy or sick like she called you. “That’s my girl!”

You take her lips and there’s a brief moment of resisting before she’s yours completely, the tension leaving her body; parting her lips to let your tongue in. You pull away and she moves forward, following you with a pout, needing more, whining as you push her to lay back again. As you slide down to your knees, Ningning lifts her hips without you saying a thing, squirming impatiently when you take time to unlace and take off her sneakers, like the minutes aren’t passing — like you aren’t salivating.

Ningning is not the biggest example of patience, shoves her own pants and underwear down and spreads her legs wide, sitting more at the edge of the couch, closer to your face. Pretty just like you thought she would be, soaked and glistening under the lights, wetness sliding out of her cunt and down to her ass.

“Look at you,” you say, kissing a path on the inside of her thighs but never looking away and she squirms a bit uncomfortably under the weight of your stare.

Hands in your hair urge your mouth closer and you’re too desperate to tell her to not touch, so instead, you give in.

She’s salty and sweet and so much better than you could’ve imagined, mouth wide open and not holding back, doing your best to savor every single drop she gives you and more. Too wet, too much, tries to close her legs when your nose bumps repeatedly against her clit, which has you using both hands to force her legs spread and barking for her to stop moving. She struggles to keep quiet and it’s totally your fault, you should be careful, but there has never been anything careful about the way you eat pussy and it shouldn’t be different with her, especially with her. Head side to side, tongue flat and up, up, down, down, deeper into her hole—

You sit back on your heels, panting, fingers replacing your mouth on her slit and smearing arousal all over her puffy lips, her breath hitching when your middle and index finger slide inside her with ease while you watch slightly in awe, straight and deep, scissoring movements to stretch her open, her eyes rolling back when you crook them up.

Ningning curses under her breath, toys with her own tits in a failed way to try and mimic how you played with them earlier, the constant rubbing of your fingers against the spongy spot inside her being too much for her to think straight and not enough for her to cum and you know that, it’s on purpose and all on your face, a shark-like grin, your eyes flickering between her pretty face, eyes closed shut and biting her lip so hard you worry she might hurt herself, and her pussy, how your fingers come out more wet at each pump and her clit is begging for your attention.

She can barely open her eyes, a small line that is more tears than anything else looking down at you. Reaches for your wrist and pulls it more into her, fingers deeper, holding it so tightly it hurts, gasps, “Just a little—”

Kissing her mound, you nod, “Shh, I know, honey, I know.”

And you do know, not thinking much before using your free hand to expose her clit and spitting on it, action that has her almost sliding from the couch with how hard her hips buck. Slippery and red and aching, you wrap your lips around it and moan against her, sucking mercilessly.

If you were in the mood to be meaner, you would hold her down; if you had more time, you would be meaner; if you weren’t in a dressing room fucking her during a break and risking being caught, you would have more time, so you let her have her fun rocking against your face in a desperate search for relieve, almost like fucking your mouth.

Ningning tosses her head back and you can’t see more than her mouth falling in a soundless scream, your hand crawling up her torso to touch the breasts she had now let go and it’s impossible to drag you deeper and yet it’s what it feels like with her walls clenching around your fingers.

There’s a soft touch on your forehead, a push, harder and harder when your mouth doesn’t back away from her core, a cry from above you, “S-top, I can’t—”

You barely move to speak, annoyed, “Don’t you dare push me away again.”

She doesn’t.

It’s not for her pleasure anymore but yours and you couldn’t care less, slurping noises filling the room, the thought of if someone outside can hear it crossing your mind. The way her body curls up, small hands grabbing at your hair to the point it hurts, her pretty face twisted in such a scowl that if you didn’t know you would think she is in pain with the moments that pass and your tongue doesn’t stop swirling around the sensitive bud between her legs driving her into overstimulation, all of it makes your desire to keep going until she’s wasted increase and it’s a shame that you can’t. To her relief you let go of her clit with a wet, loud sound, tongue flat in a last taste, and her body falls slack back on the couch, breathless, subtle twitches of her legs as you kiss the inside of her thighs, pumping your fingers a few more times before pulling out just to hear her whine again.

You stare at your glistening fingers, ready to lick them clean before an idea pops into your mind, rising from the floor to sit by her side. Ningning opens her eyes as you get closer to her, teary orbs widening as you grab her by the neck, not saying a thing before shoving your fingers past her already parted lips and filling her mouth with her own taste. You don’t apologize when you reach too deep and she gags, instead presses down on her tongue and smiles proudly when she starts to suck.

“Good girl,” you mutter, transfixed by the way her lips wrap around your fingers and her head bobs slightly, one hand holding your hand in place, eyes looking into yours, “I told you it was going to be nice, didn’t I?”

“It was,” she says, letting go of your wrist and your digits fall from her lips, your hand sliding to her waist, leaving a trail of spit behind. She smiles, “I had fun.”

Ningning looks cute, at ease, like a switch had been flipped inside her head considering how she was struggling against you minutes before, now not caring that she’s still completely naked in front of you nor about the way you hungrily stare down at her.

“You should get dressed, soon someone will come looking for you.”

Her face falls, something close to disappointment washing over it and not going unnoticed by you, caressing her cheek and making her look at you while arching an eyebrow as if who says what?

Ningning huffs and blows a strand of hair a bit childishly, then gestures to your body, “You don’t want me to… repay the favor?”

“Are you that desperate to touch me?” You say nonchalantly, smirking at the way her face reddens twice more and she stutters to explain herself. “I’m messing with you. Next time, yeah? Now get dressed.”

It’s adorable the way her eyes shine at the mention of next time, nodding happily. You get up and walk to your vanity desk, looking through your makeup artist’s things in search of something to clean her face. Shooting a glance to the mirror, you watch her.

It feeds your ego to see a girl shaking and looking a bit lost because of what you did to her and it’s no different with Ningning, flushed face and pouting, too numb to properly stand and almost tripping on her pants. She struggles with her bra and you step closer, motioning for her to turn around and she promptly obeys, murmuring a quiet thank you when you clasp the piece.

She doesn’t object when you hold her chin, wiping her tears and mascara stained cheeks with cleansing tissues. “Unnie?”

“Hm?”

She chews on her lip nervously. “Are we… Can I… I mean, were you serious about the song?”

You tilt your head, frowning at her. She has her reasons to doubt you, you know that, but you can’t help but get offended.

“What, you think I lied to you? That I said that just to fuck you? You really think so low of me?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head frantically, has a hard time speaking because of how harshly you’re grabbing her face, “No, no, but you said Minjeong—”

“And? I say a lot of things when I’m mad. I do want you on the song, Ningning,” you say, more bitterly than you really meant, “but she’s a good second choice if you keep acting up.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Yeah, you better not.” You let go of her and walk to the other side of the room, throwing the wipes on the small trash can. There’s silence, only the annoying repetitive noise of the ceiling fan as you scribble your number down on a piece of paper, even adding a small heart and handing it to her. She takes it, unfolds to take a look and gasps, corner of her lips curving upward. “Don’t lose it, call me or text me tonight. I will also ask my manager to contact your team.”

“Oka—”

You cut her off with a kiss, hands flying to her waist and pulling her closer. Ningning moans against your lips and you wish you could torture her for a little more, savor her for just a few more minutes, but there’s a knock on the door, the familiar voice of her manager making her head snap around. She pouts, not wanting to let go either, turning back to you with a questioning look.

“What happened here, it stays between us,” she nods, giggling girlishly as you boop her nose and give her a last peck on the lips. “Now go.”

She leaves with a look over her shoulder and a small wave, to which you wink in return and mouth a call me, blush creeping up her face instantly. Afterwards, sitting down with your makeup artist doing her work on your face, you think about how much easier it is to play with her than you thought it would be — and how it might last.

a/n: so...that was it. i'm sorry if it feels rushed in certain parts and if it lacks on others, it’s not my best work and i wish i could’ve done something better but at certain point this was really stressing me out 😭 we hit 2k followers a few days ago and i'm really thankful for all of you guys and the support, it feels good knowing that there people out there that think like me! i'm sorry for not being as active as in the beginning, i'll try my best to fix that!

i think a few changes are going to happen, i don't know, i still have a lot of asks to answer and i don't know when i'll finish that, in a few days my anon inbox will be closed again 😭 i hope you guys understand that, i'm not ignoring anyone, it just overwhelms me! maybe i'll post more long fics, i have some ideas, or maybe just make more of my own posts like i said once... let's see!

i love all of you, thanks for being here with me for this whole year — yep, we also hit one year!

with love, simi 🤍

#writing.txt #aespa smut #ningning smut #ningning x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #girlgroup smut #gxg smut #aespa imagines #ningning imagines #cw: dubcon #cw: age difference #cw: power imbalance

794 notes · View notes

revehae · 3 months

Text

fixative

pairing ↠ ex!seulgi x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon to dubcon pipeline, implied!stalker au, breaking and entering

summary ↠ months after breaking up with your toxic ex-girlfriend, you finally pluck the courage to move on and press your luck with another girl, but seulgi isn’t keen as on letting go.

wc ↠ 2.3k

a/n ↠ this is a repost :)

don’t like it, don’t read.

your stomach was taut, beset with unease. the first date since her, you thought to yourself with a nervous shudder. needless to say, you were a bundle of agitated nerves.

three months ago, you broke up with your obsessive ex-girlfriend, seulgi. since then, you had been hesitant to step back into the dating realm for obvious reasons, but lately you had been talking to some chick named irene and she seemed sweet enough.

no apparent psychopathic tendencies, at least. seulgi was sweet, but it was all an act to lure you right where she wanted you. beneath of all of those saccharine affections was a woman that wanted to control you and treat you like an object at her disposal. on more than one occasion, she had threatened your friends and warned them to stay away from you.

the signs were subtle at first, quiet. seulgi always spoiled you, treated you like a princess. she flattered you and made it a point to remind you she wouldn’t know what she’d ever do if you weren’t her girl. you never thought anything of her affections, finding her cute.

seulgi wanted to know all there was about you, and told you everything about her, volunteering her social media and iphone password. which made you feel like it would only be fair for you to do the same. she hated when you kept secrets, emphasizing that openness and communication were the key to all successful relationships. naturally, you would feel bad if you kept things from her and told her everything.

then, she started guilt-tripping you. if you did something that made her unhappy, she would always come up with some sob story to make you feel like a bad girlfriend. and it worked. so to placate your girlfriend, you devoted all of your time to her and let her get so deep inside your head that she even made you doubt your friends.

that was why when your friends initially pointed out how odd she was and mentioned that she had threatened them, you were convinced that they were lying. it wasn’t until later when your mother, who you’d had limited interactions with (because of your ever so perfect angel of a girlfriend), barged into your apartment and demanded an explanation for your behavior that you realized they had been right along. you told her that you were devoting your time to your girlfriend and after describing to her a series of events that you had naively believed were normal, she promptly told you in no uncertain terms that your girlfriend’s behavior was obsessive and controlling, and she was manipulating you.

you proceeded to dump her after that. fortunately, it wasn’t too late and your friends begrudgingly welcomed you back into your friend group (though you had to put in a lot of work to make amends), and your life was finally gearing back on the right track.

fresh out of the shower, you walked out of the bathroom connected to your bedroom, towel wrapped around your torso, and went to grab a bra from the over-the-door hanger behind your bedroom door. you groaned, miffed. you chastised to yourself, why would you put it up so high, knowing you couldn’t reach it, dummy?

a weird feeling settled in your gut, remembering the times when you and seulgi were together. she would always hang your bras up higher than you could reach solely so that she could help you take it back down. at the time, you thought nothing of it, writing her off as an annoying, mischievous goofball. the tease you had fallen for. you grimaced. weird how she always made me depend on her.

“need help?”

you shrieked, instantly whipping around. your mind recognized who it was before you saw it yourself, knowing that voice as too well. the blood drained from your face when you saw no other than your ex-girlfriend in the flesh, watching you with a cocky smirk.

you cowered, backing against the door with your hand over your chest, feeling your heart race. “what the fuck are you doing here?” you exclaimed.

“relax, baby. this is my home too, you know,” seulgi said, approaching you steadily.

“stay back,” you growled, though you were consumed head to toe in fear.

seulgi stopped dead in her tracks, but not really because you told her to. she smiled in a way that was very ominous and off-putting before asking, “and if i don’t?”

“i’m going to call the police if you don’t leave,” you threatened.

seulgi took a single step forward.

just seeing her move sent sheer panic throughout your body and you immediately grabbed the doorknob, prepared to rush out of the room and into the living room where you had left your phone to charge, but it didn’t budge. oddly enough, neither did seulgi, merely watching you from a slight distance as you tried to see if the door was locked, only to find that that wasn’t the case.

still, it didn’t open.

your next instinct was to run into the bathroom, but that door didn’t open either, and when you turned around in wonder of why she wasn’t trying to stop you, that was when you finally defeatedly noticed the bottle of gorilla glue at her feet.

you gulped.

seulgi laughed, full of mischief, though not the kind you had fallen for. “should i glue your legs together too so you stopped spreading them for women who aren’t me?” she asked. “what’s her name - irene?”

“don’t say her name,” you hissed. you didn’t even want to ask her how she knew.

“trust me, i don’t want to any more than you want me to,” seulgi said, approaching you again.

you parted your lips to scream in hopes that maybe your neighbors would hear you, but seulgi covered your mouth with her palm and lowered you to the ground, all the struggle making your towel fall.

you whimpered her name, but with her hand muffling your sounds, it just came out as a tiny noise.

“poor baby. you’re shaking,” seulgi said in a gently scolding tone, shaking her head. “are you cold or are you scared? i turned the ceiling fan off when you were in the bathroom, you always forgot to do that before you got in the shower. see, what would you do without me?”

“you haven’t changed,” you snarled when she moved her hand, tears forming in your eyes, but you resisted them.

seulgi, remembering all the times she thoughtfully turned your ceiling fan off for you while you were in the shower, scoffed, “clearly, neither have you.”

“fuck you.”

“shit, yeah, baby. love when you talk dirty to me,” seulgi had the nerve to joke, wiggling her brows.

you bristled with anger and tried to fight her off, though to no avail. seulgi had always been stronger than you. far, far stronger.

“stop resisting. you know i would never do anything to hurt you, baby,” she sang softly. “i love you.”

“no, you don’t,” you snapped. “if you loved me, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

seulgi switched on a dime and shot back, “i told you when we got together that i couldn’t be the perfect girlfriend. and what did you tell me, huh? fucking say it!”

the first few tears slid down your cheeks when she lashed out at you. you were getting deja vu and not the pleasant kind. “that i loved you anyways,” you whispered sadly.

you weren’t even sure why you said it, why you listened. maybe it was out of habit. never once did you defy her back then, because she convinced you that you were wrong and she was always right, and you needed her to guide you. you always listened.

seulgi narrowed her eyes at you. “exactly. and now you don’t love me anymore? is that it?”

your heart hurt. you didn’t want to, but you knew it would take a while before you forgot how it felt to be in love with her. to need her more than anything. maybe you weren’t exactly over her, no matter how badly you tried - or wanted - to be.

when you didn’t respond, seulgi grabbed you by the throat and didn’t apply pressure, but her silent threat was ever clear. “say you love me.”

you were sobbing. the fear and the memories were overwhelming, but this was next level. not once did seulgi ever put her hands on you unless you asked for it, specifically in the bedroom, so this was jarring. “i love you,” you croaked, heart thumping.

“liar. if you loved me, you wouldn’t be going on a date with some other girl only three months after our breakup like a fucking whore,” seulgi shot, mimicking you a little. her eyes fitted over your body, trailing between your thighs and down your legs. you squeezed your legs together, remembering you were exposed, but seulgi pried them back open and groped you. “you even shaved for her. did you plan on letting somebody else taste what’s mine?”

“i’m not yours,” you told her with extra vitriol.

seulgi’s clasp around your neck tightened. “you are mine. every part of you belongs to me. and that pussy is especially mine.”

you shook your head, but let out a sound when she shoved two fingers inside your cunt.

“you fucking slut. no way you’re seriously wet right now,” seulgi taunted, fingers coating your arousal.

you hid your face in embarrassment. your body seemingly also remembered that the only time she ever dared put her hands around your throat was in the bedroom, because it responded with immediate pining. you could never hide how much you liked it when she choked you out, just long enough to make you think you could faint.

seulgi spread your thighs apart even further, then pushed her fingers back inside your pussy, watching your face erupt with the opposite of agony. in spite of the tears streaming down your face.

“you can’t,” you whispered to her.

“shh,” seulgi sang, brushing you off. “it’s okay, baby. you’re all mine. just for me.”

forget that you had a date you were late to. seulgi’s fingers felt good pressed inside you, filling you completely. it wasn’t fair. seulgi knew your body better than anybody out there, and you feared she always would, having studied you so attentively.

your cunt tightened around her fingers, expressing just how much you loved how she felt inside you. you whimpered out a cry of her name, the word slipping from your tongue involuntarily, though there was no way that you could retract it now.

seulgi knew your body couldn’t get enough of her. she remembered all the times she strung you to climax, making you shake and cry out in her arms again and again, over and over. day and night. dusk and dawn. she was the best you ever had and was hoping to have ruined you for any other woman.

this other woman was a bit of a nuisance in that plan, but it was nothing seulgi couldn’t take care of. she would just have to remind you who you belonged to, and who could pleasure you like her. which, judging by the ecstasy in your voice, she was doing a damn good job at.

“you know nobody could ever love you like i do, right?” seulgi asked, tightening her hold at your neck because she knew you liked it.

“uh-huh,” you moaned, not really in any place to tell her no. not with how your body was responding to her touches.

“then why are you trying to replace me? you’ll never find anyone like me,” she said, meeting your eyes.

you stammered, “i… i wasn’t.”

“liar,” seulgi hissed. “you wanna know why? because you’re a fucking whore. and that’s what leg-spreading whores like you do.”

“no,” you whimpered, trying to deny it, but to no avail.

seulgi countered, “mm-hm. i told you about that bitch before, didn’t i? told you she’s no good and that you should stay away from her, but what do you do? you throw your legs open for her.”

“i haven’t…,” you trailed off, reluctant, but you found the courage to continue, “i haven’t had sex with her.”

“don’t lie to me.”

“i promise i’m not!” you cried. “you’re the last person to touch me, seulgi.”

seulgi was contemplative, wondering if you were telling the truth, but she knew that you couldn’t make up any lies as long as she was pleasuring you. you had tried, on more than one occasion, and failed terribly. “good. and it’s going to stay that way,” she told you sternly. “anybody touches this fucking pussy and i’ll kill them.”

“i’m gonna…, i’m gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing her arm for anchorage. you were holding on so tight and seulgi couldn’t get enough of the feeling, dreading the moment you would let go.

“cum,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “and you better moan my name when you do.”

obediently, you let out a moan of her name when you came, and a loud one at that, shaking and trembling, and writhing. she watched every second of it, enamored with you and at awe of how hard you came when she was at the forefront. the euphoria on your face was almost enough to make her cum.

you slumped down when you came, weak. seulgi uttered a, “stay right there,” and got up, knowing you would stay. out of obedience, and because you were much to spent to move, even if it was the better decision. not that you could go anywhere naked.

seulgi came back half naked and with your ringing phone in hand, which alarmed you, but you didn’t move. “i’m going to ride your face,” she said. “and you’re going to like it.”

you nodded. you didn’t have it in you to protest.

seulgi sat on your face and answered your phone, pressing it to her ear, and said, “hello?”

you watched her, eyes wide, but she just grinded her pussy into your mouth. “she can’t come to the phone right now. she’s a little busy.”

you whimpered loudly, but seulgi merely buried her cunt against your against, smiling down at you.

#seulgi smut #red velvet smut #girl group smut #gxg smut #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: stalking #revehae fics

122 notes · View notes

banananutsmuthie · 1 year

Text

The Beginner's Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes

Idol(s): Wendy [Red Velvet]

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: A quick writing experiment for an idea I had. This will be different from what you're used to but I hope you'll give it a chance. Wanted to use Wendy abs pic from the GOT the Beat "Stamp on It" performance but there were no great stills.

“Close the door.”

This is how it starts. Notice Wendy’s choice of words here. She’s left the door open to interpretation. Now, you have two choices: you can either lock the door—which is probably what Wendy meant when she said to “close” it—or, you can take her words at face value and merely close the door like she asked.

Leave the door unlocked.

Give any passersby the opportunity to walk in on whatever lewd things Wendy wants to do in the 10 minutes she has before she has to perform. Perhaps this way, she’ll learn to choose her words carefully next time.

After you close the door, Wendy will smile. “Well? I haven’t got all day.”

She’ll be sitting on the couch. Walk toward her, but not too fast! You don’t want to seem too eager. This version of Wendy only works when she’s the needy one. Give her any reason to think you’re the one that needs her and you’ll never hear from her again.

There are rules, you see, prerequisites established by Wendy for this thing between you and her to work out. First, she lets you call her whatever you want. Call her Wendy, call her your cumbucket, call her a slut (she particularly likes that one), but under no circumstance shall you claim her as yours. She is not your baby, your lover, your jagi. You are not her boyfriend. This is just sex. Because when you get caught (and you will), the first newspaper to break the story will claim Wendy is “dating”. Wendy will only speak the truth—she will say she is not dating to free herself from the backlash she will inevitably receive and place the blame on the newspaper for reporting fake news. For her, it’s all the fun without the consequences.

The second rule—the fun rule—is “never the same place twice”. This is just sex for her, and because it’s just sex, she will want to do it everywhere and anywhere. Seulgi’s room, the recording studio, in some dark alley, it doesn’t matter: when she texts you the time and place, she expects you to drop everything for her, no questions asked. Wendy enjoys the thrill. She wants to get caught. This is why you leave the door unlocked in the first place.

Now that you’re refreshed on the rules, you’re ready to begin.

Get right up to her where she’s sitting on the couch. Gently part her legs if you have to. Slap her hand away when she greedily tries to unzip your pants. She will play along when you tell her, “You had all day to text me, and you only decide right before you have to perform to call me here? Not a lot of time to do anything, Wendy. This is going to cost you.”

“Name your price,” Wendy will say.

There are rules to negotiation, just like there are rules for sex with Wendy. Ask for something absurd, something she’ll never agree to. Set the bar high so that what you get is closer to what you wanted to begin with. “Threesome later this week. You and one of your members. I don’t care which one.”

Wendy will scoff and present a counter offer: “Eat me out now and I’ll let you cum in me before our next performance and let that load soak through my safety shorts on stage.”

As tempting as that sounds, there will be no immediate satisfaction for you should you accept. Make one last offer.

“Blowjob with a blast to your face. Right now. Maybe I’ll play with your tits if you’re good. Final offer. I’m a very busy man, y’know. I’ve got better things to do.” Make it sting. There probably won’t be many things above “sex with Wendy” on your list, but you need to make Wendy believe she’s not that important—this is key.

She will complain about her makeup, how there won’t be time to redo it after you’ve ruined it, or her hair, how she spent the last couple hours getting it done. Tell her how it’s not your problem and walk toward the door. Wendy will curse, but she will finally agree because this is why she came running to you in the first place: no other man can sexually satisfy her the way that you do, so she’ll take whatever sex she can get, even if she’s not the one being pleasured.

“Fine. Handjob with a little tongue and you can cum on my abs,” she’ll say.

Turn back around, as you should always do. “Well, you better hurry then, princess. You’ve only got eight minutes left before you have to perform.”

She’ll be reaching for that zipper, but she’s a clumsy little thing, is used to handling bigger meaningful objects in her hand like a microphone, or your cock. Help her with the button, but watch as she finally figures out your skinny fit jeans and slides it down your legs.

Wendy will start to stroke, trying to get you hard for her. Let her. Undoubtedly, she will be in a hurry since she’ll have 7 minutes before she is called to the stage. It’ll feel great between her two skillful hands, but she’ll use one to start, claiming it’ll tire her arm, and she needs that arm to hold her mic up to her face in 6 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Maybe if you use your mouth, honey,” you’ll say.

Take your hand. Pinch Wendy’s chin between your thumb and index finger. Tilt her head upward so you can see the look in her eyes, determined, lustful, capable.

“You promised me a little tongue action, where’s that tongue?”

She’ll grimace. “One hand should be enough,” she’ll try to reason, but you know what it takes to get you off.

“Now. Or I walk,” you’ll say, firm and threatening, so that she understands the gravity of what’s at stake. It shouldn’t take more than that. Hold in your excitement when Wendy leans forward, parting her lips enough to stick that tongue on your tip.

Encourage her. “That’s it, right there.”

Guide her, show her where you want that tongue to be used. Bring her forward. She will try to sidestep your cock from entering her mouth, will run that tongue down the side of your shaft and make your member nice and wet. That’s okay! Make her lick your balls while she’s there, watch your cock twitch in Wendy’s grasp.

Notice how her lips have yet to touch any part of your cock. This is intentional. Look at those luscious lips glazed in gloss. She can’t afford to have them ruined by slurping up some dick just before a performance. Everyone will know then. This is why she settled on a handjob with a cum shot on the only part of her body that’s exposed in an outfit that would look better on the floor. Let her be. You’re a gentleman in that regard. If she drools from that open mouth tongue action she’s still doing on you, put your hand out underneath her chin to catch her saliva so it doesn’t drip onto her pants.

There will be a knock at the door sooner or later. “Five minutes, miss Wendy!”

This is why leaving the door unlocked is important, for times like these. Wendy will tense up, her hand on your cock tightening its grip out of surprise. What she won’t know is that the stagehand could walk in on her stroking and licking your cock right now. Imagine the look on her face when he does.

But he won’t. People in this town are too nice.

“Coming!” she’ll say, and you’ll reply with something stupid like, “Hey, that’s my line!” Wendy will roll her eyes and tell you to quiet down, but ultimately will do three things.

First, she’ll stroke faster out of necessity. This is no longer a “want” but a “need”. She needs you to cum so she can get on stage. Second, she’ll finally add that free hand to your shaft, gripping you the same way a baseball player would grip a bat. Lastly, she’ll lick your tip, just a little, starting with the underside of your cockhead, swirling around that sensitive area, and finishing with a little flourish at the tip, all without breaking eye contact.

Compliment her again, then remind her of what she promised. “So fucking hot, Wendy. But you know what happens next, right?”

She won’t need much more of a reminder than that. Apply some pressure with a pushing motion to her shoulder, just enough for her to take the hint. She will fall backfirst onto the couch.

Straddle her.

Watch as her eyes flicker as she lets out a moan when you slip your fingers between her legs, in that thigh gap, rubbing, feeling the heat radiating from Wendy's pussy even with her pants still on.

Remind her for next time: “This tight little kitty could’ve been enjoying some action right now if her owner didn’t call the lion tamer so late.” She’ll be too lost in ecstasy from your touch, and too determined with your cock to notice, but that’s okay, too.

That’ll be enough pleasure for Wendy’s pussy this time. Any more than that and she’ll be too lost in her own little world to give a fuck about her performance, the one on stage later and the one on your cock currently.

By now, Wendy will have done a good enough job to get your cock rock hard. Reward her for it. Reach underneath her top with both hands, carefully lift it up off her arms, and let it rest as a useless necklace around her neck. This way, you don’t mess up her hair by pulling it up over her head, and she won’t need to put it back on when you’re done. More importantly, it now gives you a buffer when you overshoot Wendy’s abs and cum on her tits. Not only will it be a great view, but it will also keep her outfit clean.

You should now be staring at a raw, desperate, topless Wendy. Enjoy the view. Not many people get to watch an idol giving them a handjob with such fervor underneath them. Grasp at those lovely little breasts with both hands while she strokes you. She deserves that much, at least. Watch as the muscles in her biceps flex and extend with each jerk of your cock in her tiny hands. Feel it in her soft breasts, how they jiggle lightly in your grasp.

You should feel a tingling sensation, cock throbbing, almost there, almost ready to dump your load all over Wendy. Tell her. “I’m almost there Wendy, just a little more.” She might look at the clock on the wall for a quick check, but she’ll definitely stroke faster, grip tighter, maybe even throw out some encouragement of her own to move you along.

Reward her again for being so skilled with her hands: play with Wendy’s perfect burnt-almond colored nipples. Titillate her tits. Hear her moans when you pinch those little nubs that will be getting hard with arousal. Feel her abs clench underneath you, every curve and crevice throbbing against the underside of your balls. This will encourage her to stroke faster until you hit your breaking point.

Give her a sign that you’re about to cum so she can prepare for it. You’re a gentleman, after all. It can be as subtle as tightening your straddle against her hips, or as blatant as moaning out, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” If you’re feeling extra frisky, you may even do both.

“Right here,” she will remind you, taking one hand off your shaft to caress her hard-earned abs, showing you exactly where she wants it. You must be careful to cum only where she instructs you to cum, or there may be no next time.

Quicken your breathing. Make sure Wendy doesn’t let go of your cock. Watch as her continued stroking results in blasting her stomach with globs of your cum. Groan if you'd like, she'll consider it as positive feedback. If she’s done a great job, you may notice cum shooting as far as her tits, which isn’t exactly her abs like she directed, but this is why you pull her top off her chest.

Unmount her when she’s drained you completely and admire the work. You are the paint, she is the artist and the canvas. There will be aqueducts of white filling in the crevices of her abs, gutters of cum flowing down her sides and letting the excess drip onto the couch.

She will not be able to get up without the risk of your cum sliding down her stomach and onto her pants. So because you're a gentleman, you’ll hand her a towel so that she can wipe herself off. She’ll get most of it, enough to finally sit up and slip back into her top. If you’ve timed it right, she should have no more than a minute to spare.

“You’re welcome,” you’ll say.

Wendy will be the first to leave her dressing room. “I’ll text you,” she’ll say. Wendy will be too much in a hurry to care that there are still shiny remnants of your cum shimmering on her abdomen. This is fine. If she’s lucky, she can play it off as oil, an “artistic choice”, should anyone ask. “Sex sells in this industry,” she’ll say.

Stay behind, count to thirty. You want to make sure there is enough of an interval after Wendy leaves to avoid any suspicion from anyone backstage that you were just with her. Once you reach thirty, leave the room, close the door, and find your way back to your car.

You may run into someone in the hallway. It could be BoA’s boyfriend who came to support her for the comeback. You shouldn’t say hi, but be courteous if he initiates contact. Worst case scenario, he will ask, “Was Wendy good?”

“What’s it to you,” you’ll reply, and he’ll go on about a dream he had one drunken night where he fucked every member of Red Velvet in a Cinderella-like fairytale. He’ll tell you all about this vivid experience with Wendy, how she was a moaner and liked it in the ass.

Ignore him, it’s best not to dawdle. “It was nice to meet you,” you’ll say. Politely bow and continue to the parking garage.

Once there, you’ll notice Somi just a couple cars over from where you’re parked, leaning against the hood of her car. She’ll be in this amazing outfit that highlights her best features: stockings on her legs that go on for days, a top that shows off that shredded tummy, and the horizontal stripe design that really emphasizes those mouthwatering melons. It’s not a coincidence she is here.

“Hey,” she’ll say. Be polite and greet her back. You’ll try to introduce yourself, but she’ll interrupt you.

“You’re cuter than I thought you’d be,” she’ll say.

Reply back with a compliment. Go ahead and shoot your shot. She’ll appreciate the fresh forwardness that most people would be too scared to treat her with. “And you look more fuckable than I thought you’d be.”

She’ll look appalled, but watch as her indignance turns into a smirk for the appreciation of the wit and brashness, the kind of behavior that gets her pussy wet. This is exactly what she’ll be expecting, after all.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she’ll say, “Wendy unnie told me about you. I asked her to get you here today so I could see for myself.”

Deny anything she’s accusing you of until it comes straight from her. “What have you heard?”

“I hear you’re somewhat of an idol whisperer. Knows how to pleasure women with no strings attached. Was maybe wondering if I could get a consultation in the backseat of my car.”

You are not yet ready for Somi; she is way too advanced to be covered here. Instead, she will be covered in The Advanced Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes. Politely decline but give her your number. Tell her to text another day when you’re not so busy. If she’s really interested, she’ll call.

For now, there are other things on the agenda: places to go, people to see, things to do. Get in your car, check your messages. There will undoubtedly be a text from one Lee Saerom, another client who loves riding that dick harder than Wendy.

Her text will read: Are you coming or not?

Tell her you’re on your way. She will give you her location, tell you how she wants it. She is a much different beast from Wendy: wilder, but more tamable than Somi.

Now, the rules Wendy imposed on your arrangement are a good foundation, but these are basic principles that don’t necessarily apply to women like Saerom and Somi, women more complicated in their wants and needs. This isn’t the end of the journey—there are more rules to follow, more concepts to learn. Once you feel comfortable with the concepts in this module, take a deep breath and pat yourself on the back.

Congratulations, you are now ready for The Intermediate Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Just a little quickie I churned out in a couple days which is a much faster turnaround time that most of my fics. Thanks for reading!

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #wendy smut #male reader #reader insert

580 notes · View notes

cloudbersoo · 9 months

Text

easy for you to say｜sung hanbin

synopsis: what happens when bloom dance academy's golden boy sung hanbin needs a new duet partner and y/n is the only one available?

or; will y/n be able to fall in love with dance again? perhaps they'll fall for someone in the process.

tags: sung hanbin x gn!reader, dancer au, fluff, attempt at angst, insecure reader, miscommunication, happy ending, featuring: zb1 matthew and jiwoong, twice momo, exo kai, itzy yeji, ryujin and chaeryeong!!

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this whole fic was inspired by the ‘i like that’ dance hanbin recreated on weekly idol. i’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life, so here is a very self indulgent fic i wrote!! also this is barely proofread, so sorry for any grammar mistakes! hihi enjoy

my playlist while writing: easy for you to say & bleach by 5sos, sugarcoat (natty solo) by kiss of life, thanks to by woodz, blooming day by exo-cbx, anywhere but home by seulgi

i. that’s not good

every dancer has their bad days. but when those bad days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, suddenly your entire dance season has been nothing but awful. that’s how your previous season went, and this year hasn’t been any different either. you weren’t chosen for any of the small groups this year for any competition. you didn’t even dare to dream of a solo, even when you had one just a few years ago.

you used to be at the top, one of the coaches favourites. you’ve danced at bloom dance academy since you were three, and had gained a good reputation at the studio over the years. though, now that seems so far in the past. you were in a deep slump, one that you couldn’t get out of no matter how much you practiced. you think you’d do anything to love dancing again the way you used to.

you were currently at the studio, waiting for the full group rehearsal to start, while one of the small groups was going over their dance with coach momo. you were sitting in a corner alone, while others were socialising or going through other dances on their own. your eyes were completely fixated on one particular dancer, one that probably made you more insecure than any other – sung hanbin.

hanbin was basically your complete opposite. he only started dancing in middle school, and joined bloom dance academy only last season. everyone around him loved him, and rightfully so, as hanbin was truly amazing. his body control and facial expressions were something you could only dream of right now. his skills didn’t come out of nowhere though, everyone knew how hard he worked. and unlike you, his hard work paid off.

looking at hanbin made you feel horrible about yourself, but you couldn’t look away. he was so mesmerising to you, the way he carried himself through choreography, and how he helped those around him. you were in too deep thought to notice a couple of your teammates approaching you. it took for one of them to speak for you to finally notice your friends. “y/n, did you hear about yeji?” your teammate matthew asked you as he sat down next to you.

“no i haven’t, did something happen?” you responded, finally taking your eyes off of hanbin. you noticed besides matthew, chaeryeong and ryujin had approached you. “she injured her knee really badly at practice yesterday, she’s still at the doctors, they’re trying to figure out what’s wrong” chaeryeong opened up, clearly worried for her friend. injuries at this point of the season were the worst, but they happen every time. last year jiwoong dislocated his elbow a week before competition and all formations had to be redone.

“that doesn’t sound too good” you said, taking a sip from your water bottle. yeji won’t recover in time for the competition in four weeks, you assumed. not only will you have to redo all the formations for the full group performance and for her small group, your team will need a new female soloist and a duet partner for hanbin as well. “yeah, she’s out” ryujin confirmed your suspicions. “momo asked me for the solo, but i don’t think i can do it” she continued, brushing her hand through her hair.

“i feel so bad for yeji, but at least there's a little more time than last year” matthew said in an attempt to lighten the mood. his comment did get a few chuckles out of you.

after a moment of silence, ryujin spoke once again. “how about you y/n? could you do the solo?” ryujin asked a question that almost made you laugh. “coach would never even consider me, and… i don’t even have anything ready” you replied lowering your head in shame. it was true though, you were probably the last person momo would consider as yeji’s replacement for anything.

“okay guys! let’s start going over the new formations!” your coach declared, clapping her hands to get the whole room's attention.

ii. y/n coming to the rescue!

you were exhausted, just like everyone else in the room. your coach had said “one more time” at least ten times tonight, but finally practice had officially come to an end. today’s rehearsal had gladly eased most people's minds from yeji’s injury. however, you could only worry about your own performance, as today’s practice had barely helped you improve at all. you were packing your stuff, as you heard your coach calling your name. “hey y/n, could i talk to you for a second?” momo asked.

your mind could only think of the worst. momo was going to tell you that you’re cut from the full group completely, because you can’t get your shit together. it made sense, today’s new formations were going to look better with one less dancer, and obviously you were the first in line to go. you tried to hide your nervousness, answering her with a hum. you stuffed the last of your things into your bag and walked to your coach. “yeah, is this about the full group?” you went straight to the point.

“actually no” she started, sitting down on a chair. you were relieved, but only partly, as you had no idea where the conversation was going. “it’s about yeji’s and hanbin’s duet” momo continued, your coach visibly stressed. you could only imagine what had been going through her head the past 24 hours since yeji’s injury. she let out a loud sigh. “y/n i know you’ve had quite rough year, but i think it could be a great challenge for you”

“what do you mean? sorry coach, i’m not following” you questioned. she couldn't possibly be offering you a spot in a duet, let alone one with hanbin.

“you should do the duet with hanbin, i think you could handle it” momo said hopefully. she took your hands into hers, looking at you with pleading eyes. it was almost working, but something in you couldn't agree to it. you couldn’t possibly handle the duet, not when someone else could do a much better job than you. “i don’t know momo…” you responded.

“hanbin! please convince her to do the duet with you” momo suddenly said, her eyes leaving yours. while your talk with the coach, you had failed to notice the presence of hanbin behind you. you freed yourself from momo’s hold as you turned around to see the boy. “i just think someone else would be a much better match for the duet, i’ve seen it myself” you tried to reason.

“no! i think you’d be perfect!” hanbin said, which felt like an exaggeration to you. truthfully, you’d love to do a duet with someone so amazing as hanbin, you would be dumb not to, but your insecurities were holding you back. the duet was difficult, and with the little time you had, you weren’t sure if you could pick it up. few years ago it would’ve been easy, but now you weren’t so sure. “c’mon y/n, i need you” he begged.

“you don’t have any other dances besides the full group, so you’ll have enough time to rehearse” momo added. you looked at both of them, the two of them looking at you hopefully. while you still didn't quite understand why they were so determined to get you to do the duet, you were beginning to yield to them.

“well, when would we start then?” you asked carefully. your words made both of them squeal out of joy. hanbin wrapped his hands around you and squished you into a hug. “thank you thank you thank you” he rejoiced, spinning you around in the air. you weren’t sure if this was going to work, but having people who believed in you definitely helped.

iii. cries and confessions

the duet was not going well, at least not as well as it should be at this point. you had rehearsed for almost a week with hanbin, and while you had picked up some of the choreography, most of it was still not clicking for you. hanbin had been more than patient with you, but his patience wasn’t getting you that far.

you groaned out of frustration for the thirtieth time in the past hour. you were having difficulty with your footwork for a fast part in the choreography, and no matter how many times hanbin went slowly over it, you were not getting the timing right. “y/n it’s okay, you’ll get it eventually” he tried comforting you once again. you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “no hanbin, i’m not getting it” you snapped back, your words coming out much harsher than you intended. “i’m sorry, i just- i hate that i can’t seem to get anything right” you apologised, covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment.

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully. you’ve been asked this question many times over the past two years. your teammates, momo, your parents, even the studio head, jongin had asked you if you needed to talk about whatever mental block you were going through. but you never did, because there wasn’t anything to talk about, at least that’s how you felt, and you told hanbin that. “you sure? i mean there’s clearly something going on… i get it if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but i’m here for you if you need me” he responded to you.

“what would you even know? you joined the studio after my good days” you mumbled, choosing to sit down onto the dance floor, not expecting hanbin to hear you. the boy sat down next to you, sitting close to you, your shoulders almost touching. the close proximity shouldn’t have made your heart race the way it did, at least not after dancing so close to each other for hours to an end for the past week.

“i saw your solo couple years ago at a competition, and i thought you were amazing” he confessed. hanbin was looking at you delicately, his words filled with sincerity. you never thought someone so skilled and awesome dancer like hanbin would ever say something like that to you. “you’re pretty much the reason i'm here, at bloom” he continued, his words making you speechless. “i mean, if the studio had someone as cool as you, the teachers must be something too” hanbin kept rambling, getting slightly shy over his confession, his cheeks flushed.

hanbin’s confession made you feel appreciated and sad at the same time. your eyesight was getting blurry from the tears that were about to break through. “well, that was me few years ago” you started, trying your hardest not to start crying in front of him. you locked eyes with him and he was looking at you with sorrowness. “and this is me now, someone that can barely keep up with everyone” your voice cracked, tears finally sliding down your cheeks.

hanbin didn’t say anything after that. he wrapped his hand around shoulders, lowering your head to rest on his chest. he just held you as you sobbed. it was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you were still sweaty from practice, but you couldn’t care about that for now. you were starting to calm down as hanbin stroked your arm up and down. you brought your hands to wipe out your tears, apologising to the boy for drenching his shirt even more. “i’m just wasting our time by crying like this” you said.

“it’s okay y/n, you know, sometimes letting your emotions out can help you to move on” hanbin claimed, smiling softly at you. letting go of your shoulder, he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. “should we end practice for today? i could drive you home if you’d like” the boy suggested.

“i think i’d rather walk and cool down a little, but thanks” you gave hanbin a weak smile and started getting up. he seemed to take your word, as he got up as well and started cleaning up the practice room with you. the room was filled with comfortable silence, and you were glad you had someone like hanbin to rely on.

iv. nothing happened!

after your heart to heart with hanbin, rehearsals had started to go much smoother. some days were better than others, but at least you weren’t pouring out your frustration onto him. aside from a few lifts, you two had finished the whole choreography, and you felt good about it. even momo was pleased with your work, after you had shown her your progress. while the duet was still far from perfect, you and hanbin were confident you could do well at the competition.

hanbin had also become more friendly with you over the past few weeks. he always greeted you with a hug, asked how you were doing, and kept insisting on driving you home after you were done, which was something you could no longer deny. he’d come up to you during practice if he ever noticed you frustrated, cheering you up and giving you much needed advice, while also offering to refill your water bottle. thanks to hanbin, you were slowly starting to enjoy dance again, and you think you’ll be forever grateful to him for that.

it was late friday night, only you and hanbin were left at the studio. hanbin had convinced you to stay for another hour to practice one of the lifts for your duet. while you thought it would be safer to practice with momo around, hanbin assured you he wouldn’t let you get hurt. so there you were, forty minutes later, probably at your hundred attempt of the lift. you had never been the best at any tricks or lifts, and at this point you didn’t think you'd ever quite get them.

however, hanbin was determined to get the lift right before you went home. “it’s not that hard y/n” he said, his hands on both sides of your hips. there was no hint of impatience in his voice, while he looked at you with such care. “easy for you to say, mr. i’m perfect at everything” you teased, getting a laugh out of him.

“hey! none of that!” he scolded you with a pout. “just trust me, i’m gonna catch you no matter what, okay?” he continued, squeezing your hips for reassurance. you only nodded, and on the count of three, hanbin lifted you in the air again. everything was going well, until you felt one of your hands slip, and the next moment you were laying on top of habin on the floor.

his hands were tightly wrapped around your body, and you could feel his heart beating fast into his chest. hanbin’s face was mere centimetres away from yours. “oh my god! are you okay?” you worried, trying to get off of him, but his grip only tightened. the act made you stop in your tracks, your cheeks warming up. “h-hanbin” you stuttered, now worried the boy had hit his head or something.

“see? i said i wasn’t going to let you hit the floor” he only laughed. sighing out of relief, you brushed his bangs out of the way of his eyes. hanbin looked beautiful, even when he was all worn out from the hours of practice. you’ve always thought so, but now seeing it up close you were certain about it. he smiled at you, showing off his famous whisker dimples. you smiled back, as your hands laid against his chest. you noticed his eyes travelling down your face, to your lips, and at that moment you couldn’t stop yourself from hesitantly leaning into him.

“oh sorry, didn’t know you guys were still here” you heard a voice coming from the door. being snapped back to reality, hanbin finally let go of you. you standed up and helped hanbin to do the same, the two of you now recognizing the person that had entered the room as jiwoong. “did i interrupt something?” his voice was filled with amusement.

“no not at all, we were just about to finish” hanbin’s whole face and neck hued the colour pink, as he spitted out the biggest lie of his life.

v. flirting 101

you couldn’t stop thinking about hanbin all weekend, how the two of you almost kissed if only jiwoong hadn’t interrupted you. when did you even start liking him?

while you could’ve just texted him, you never found the right thing to send. what were you supposed to say to him? you thought about asking for advice from some of your teammates but eventually decided against it, knowing they wouldn’t have anything smart to say. you could almost hear chaeryeong’s teasing words just thinking about it.

you had yet to find time to rehearse your duet together, as hanbin needed time to practice his solo. you had tried to talk to him multiple times, but snitched out last second each time, claiming that it was only because you couldn’t bother him at the moment. in reality, you felt nervous around him. you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way towards someone, let alone almost kissed someone.

you had stayed at the studio after practice to help momo with your team’s costumes for the competition. it seemed that you struggled with saying no when someone asks for your help. it was late again, the studio nearly empty, when you were finally ready to go home. walking towards the exit, you noticed one of the practice rooms was still in use. curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to take a look at who was still practicing at the late hour. in the room was hanbin, rehearsing alone again.

hanbin was fully focused on the music, his body hitting every beat of the song. the way he moved was captivating to you, like he was putting some type of spell on you. it wasn’t that surprising that you fell for him so easily. you thought hanbin was the most beautiful when he was in his element, when he danced.

he was too concentrated to notice you at the door. as the song came to an end, he was completely out of breath. you couldn’t help but to clap, finally revealing yourself to the boy. the act made hanbin burst out of his own bubble, seeing you in the mirror first, giving you a tired smile before turning around. “that was amazing” you praised the boy as you fully stepped into the room.

“thank you” hanbin shyly responded, walking towards his stuff and taking a towel to wipe the sweat out of his face. you went up to him and offered him his water bottle. he smiled at you before speaking up again, “what are you still doing here this late?” his voice was filled with worry, but he was still glad to see you regardless.

“you should worry about yourself” you replied, your comment getting a small chuckle out of him. hanbin seemed tired, his eyes sleepy and hair all over the place. he must’ve had a lot of pressure on him, when so many people were counting on him to do well. you took a step closer to the boy, reaching up to fix his hair. “you’re doing great hanbin” you felt the need to reassure him, his face finally relaxing from your touch. after a while of playing with his hair, you lowered your hand to his cheek, wiping the last of sweat that was left.

“i didn’t take you for a touchy person” hanbin said teasingly, making you quickly retreat your hand from his face. your cheeks started to warm up from embarrassment. was this how you acted when you liked someone? you made an attempt at hiding by turning your face away. the boy in front of you just giggled, mumbling about how cute you were being.

“do you have time tomorrow? to practice our duet i mean” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“hmm, let me think about that” hanbin pretended to think about your question for a while. “yes! but only on one condition” he said with a mischievous smile. his behaviour made you suspicious, you had yet to get used to hanbin’s playful side. hanbin took your confused face as a sign to continue, “when we win with our duet, i can take you on a date”

his straightfulness caught you off guard, but you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke into your face. knowing there were mutual feelings between the two of you gave you butterflies in your stomach. there was a hint of nervousness in hanbin, so you didn’t want to keep him waiting for an answer for too long. “if we win” you said, emphasising the word if.

“so it’s a date?” his wide smile matched yours. you nodded as confirmation, and before you knew it, hanbin quickly embraced you in his arms. you laughed how gross and sweaty he was, as he leaned back to look at you, with a pout on his lips.

“let’s go home then, i’ll drive you.”

vi. heartbreaks

your heart dropped the moment you saw yeji walk into the studio, her knee seemingly fine. everyone was shocked to see her going into jongin’s office. it was one week before the competition, and no one knew what yeji’s return could mean for the team. were jongin and momo going to let her dance? what could that mean for you and hanbin’s duet? you couldn’t hear their conversation where you were, and the suspense was killing you.

deciding you could no longer sit around waiting, you went over to the office door to eavesdrop. “we finally got the formation to work for the full group! we can’t just go and change them all over again for you!” momo’s voice said, notably worked up by yeji’s sudden appearance. yeji kept on pleading for the two to let her come, as she didn’t want to miss the competition, “then at least let me do the rest!”

“i don’t think it’d be fair for the others, ryujin has worked hard on the solo” jongin tried to explain.

“i already talked with everyone! ryujin, hanbin, they’re all okay with it!” yeji claimed.

hearing hanbin’s name mentioned made you freeze on your spot. your insecurities were starting to creep in again, your mind filled up with questions. did hanbin rather do the duet yeji instead? when did they even talk about it together? it hadn’t even been twelve hours since you last saw him.

maybe hanbin was relieved after hearing that yeji was okay. he had a much bigger chance to win with her than with you. maybe this whole time you’ve just been one big project to him, while he waited for yeji to get better.

you thought you were already over all this, being the second choice – but no, you weren’t even an option at this point. the past weeks have been the first time in years when you’ve felt great when you danced. you felt like you had finally improved, able to move on from your slump. you must’ve been just a joke to him, to everyone. tears were falling down your cheeks, your chest feeling too tight to breathe.

“there you are y/n!” you heard a very familiar voice calling you, but you couldn’t even move to see him. hanbin sounded out of breath as he finally approached you. “i was looking for you, there’s something i need to tell you” he continued, putting his hand on your shoulder. his touch finally made you shift, as you moved out of the boy's touch, you saw his concerned face. you could only watch him for a second, before you knew you had to get out of there.

“good luck with that duet” you said before taking your leave.

vii. making up and making …out?

since getting cut off from the duet, you've been avoiding hanbin like plague all week. he had tried to talk to you multiple times, but you ran off each time. you’ve tried to distract yourself by practicing on your own, and offering to help chaeryeong, matthew and jiwoong with their trio. it only helped you for awhile, because most times hanbin would show up and try to explain himself. you don’t know how many times you’ve told him to just focus on the competition instead of running after you.

you weren’t really mad at him, it wasn’t his fault that yeji came back. deep down you knew he probably had an explanation for everything, he wouldn’t have tried to talk to you otherwise. after calming down you could no longer blame yeji for losing your duet either, you would’ve likely done the same thing if you were her. she worked hard too, even to the point of injuring herself. you were mostly just mad at yourself, embarrassed how you’ve handled the whole thing, and letting your insecurities get the best of you again.

it was the last day of competition, and you were sitting in the audience, as you didn’t have any dances left. there was a small break between the small group category and the solos. your team did well, however, you could tell something was off with hanbin as he danced. it wasn’t something the judges could notice, but you knew hanbin, and something was clearly off. you were worried, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to talk to him right now, as he was somewhere probably getting ready for his solo.

“hi, can i sit with you?” you were surprised to see yeji out here in the audience, let alone approaching you of all people. you nodded as a response, and she sat down next to you. there was an awkward silence between the two of you. you thought about what you should say to her, if you were even supposed to. both of you sat stiff, looking everywhere but each other. “shouldn’t you be getting ready for your solo?” you tried testing the waters.

“i’m not doing it” she replied, her hands gripping the corners of her chair, as she looked down to her legs. it quickly got quiet again, neither of you saying anything. you wondered if yeji’s knee wasn’t as fine as she made it seem or if something else was going on. yeji didn’t let you think for long as she finally spoke again, “i couldn’t take it away from ryujin…”

“but you could take it from me?” your words coming out of your mouth more harshly than you intended. regretting what you said, you shook your head, telling yeji to forget what you just said.

“no y/n, i should’ve asked you first, i’m sorry” she interrupted you. “i just- i was so excited to dance again… too excited even, i failed to notice that hanbin would’ve much rather danced with you. but you know him, he’s too nice to say anything” yeji explained, the last bit making you both chuckle. you were glad yeji apologised to you, even when you were never angry with her in the first place.

“do you really think that? that he would’ve rather danced with me?” you asked, wanting to believe what she said, you just needed some more reassurance.

“obviously! i might not have been around when the two of you got closer but i’ve heard some stories from jiwoong and chaeryeong” she teased, nudging your shoulder. your cheeks blushed, as you figured yeji was referring to the night jiwoong had caught you two almost kissing at the studio. “i bet he’s already halfway through choreographing your duet for next season” she continued. yeji’s words made you feel shy and giddy, they gave you the sudden urge to see him, to talk to him.

“i think i should go find him” you stood up from your seat, looking around for the fastest route to your team’s dressing room. yeji gave you an encouraging push, telling you to hurry before he needs to go up on stage.

you ended up finding hanbin before you even got to the dressing room. you found him warming up close to the stage, already in his costume. he noticed you coming right away, giving you a small smile and a wave. saying your hello’s, you stopped awkwardly few steps away from him. “how are you feeling?” you asked carefully, not sure how he’d react to you suddenly showing up.

“i’m okay, just a little nervous” he answered quietly, continuing his stretching. you just stood there, awkwardly, not knowing what to say. you didn’t really plan ahead when you suddenly decided to find him. hanbin got up, now fully looking at you, but he didn’t say anything like you hoped he would. the two of you just stared at one another, neither knowing what to say. you could no longer bear the silence, so you finally spoke, “i’m sorry.”

“no, i’m sorry, i should’ve talked to you” hanbin took your hands to his, holding onto them like his life depended on it. his eyes were sorrowful, all this must have pained him the past week, and it was mostly your fault.

“i mean you tried to…” you reminded him, hoping that he would stop blaming himself. he let out an airy laugh, a smile finally breaking to his face. announcement could be heard in the background, telling everyone that the solo category would be starting in a few minutes, and you could see hanbin tense up.

“you’re going to kill it, don’t worry” you reassured him, deciding to embrace the boy in a hug. he wrapped his arms around in a second, squeezing you tight. “you think so?” he mumbled next to your ear.

“hanbin, let’s go!” you could hear jongin yell from a distance. you took a look at hanbin, not quite ready to let go yet. “yes, and i’ll be right here watching” you said, with one more thing in your mind that you thought would help him. you looked around your surroundings, hoping that jongin wouldn’t be looking, before doing something you should’ve done weeks ago. you leaned in and kissed the boy, wrapping your arms around his neck.

hanbin kissed you back after a moment of shock, and you could feel him smile against your lips. parting ways, the two of you now giggling like little kids. “I’ll be back” he let go of you, starting to walk towards jongin, who had an amused smile on his face.

to put it simply, hanbin had never danced as well as he did then, and he was sure it was all thanks to you.

viii. lets dance

“are your eyes closed?” hanbin asked you for the fifth time, as he was moving you towards his surprise. it had been a few days since the competition, and today hanbin had been acting really suspicious. you were informed by matthew that you should stay at the studio after practice, and he left without telling you why. your questions were finally answered, when hanbin started dragging you out of the dressing room, putting his hands in front of your eyes.

“yes, you’ve made sure of it” you answered, acting bothered by his antics. “okay okay, but no lurking!” he said excitingly, helping you to get over a higher threshold. you could tell you had entered one of the practice rooms, but you had no idea what hanbin had planned. you two stopped walking, and hanbin finally let you open your eyes, “you can open now!”

once you did open them, you wouldn't believe what laid in front your eyes. the entire room was decorated with fairy lights all over the room. the view was beautiful, and you were in complete awe. you never thought hanbin would do something like this. “hanbin…” you were completely speechless.

“shh, that’s not all” he said, as a familiar song started playing from the speakers. you turned to hanbin as you recognized the song, it was the song for your duet. he smiled at you, offering you his hand. “dance with me” he said quietly. you took his hand without hesitation, and he pulled you into the middle of the dance floor. you started dancing the choreography, the room filling up with laugh and giggles.

dancing with hanbin just felt right. it made you feel at ease, moves coming easily to you as the two of you spinned around the dance floor. you never wanted this moment to end, that’s how much you were enjoying it. for a long time you haven’t enjoyed dance as much as you did right now, with hanbin. and suddenly it hit you – you loved dancing again.

…and maybe you loved hanbin too.

- end

bonus:

“y/n, will you be my duet partner?”

“only if you’ll be my boyfriend as well”

“i like this deal”

#zb1 #zerobaseone #sung hanbin #zb1 x reader #zb1 sung hanbin #zb1 hanbin #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin fic #zb1 fluff #zb1 fics #zerobaseone hanbin #kpop #cloudbersoofic

133 notes · View notes