Adore U

CIX reactions to you sitting in their lap during a bumpy car ride

genre: suggestive

requested: yes!!

a/n: thank you for this request, anon! I had wayyy too much fun writing it and I hope you enjoy reading!

bx

“Dude, cool it with the turns.” Byounggon said tightly, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You adjusted in his lap as subtly as you could, your cheeks burning.

Seunghun offered an apologetic glance over his shoulder. “Sorry guys. They should really make cars with six seats, huh?”

Byounggon didn’t bother laughing at his friend’s joke, though the rest of the boys did. You were hyperaware of every place his body touched yours, each bump and pothole in the road somehow pressing you further into him.

When presented with your “seating” options for the two-hour-long road trip out of the city, none were wildly appealing. You loved each of your friends fiercely, but sitting on their lap wasn’t exactly how you’d planned to spend the long drive.

After ten minutes of bickering and five games of rock-paper-scissors, you and Byounggon had stared at one another in silence. And now, you were only fifteen minutes into the car ride and you felt ready to itch out of your skin.

Byounggon’s body was warm against yours, his hands resting awkwardly on the seat. You sat in silence most of the time, only contributing to the boys’ conversation when their terrible jokes became too much for you.

Seunghun took yet another turn without braking at all. Your body pitched to the side and you gasped, but Byounggon’s hands abruptly found your waist. His fingers dug into your hipbones as he steadied you, unintentionally pressing you further into his lap at the same time.

You exhaled shakily and turned your head to look at him. “Thanks,” you breathed.

Byounggon’s throat worked, his cheekbones stained with color. Were you affecting him as much as he was you? There was an incessant heat building in your stomach that you attempted to control with every breath.

Safe to say, it wasn’t working. Byounggon didn’t remove his hands from you this time, instead allowing them to relax on the tops of your thighs. The heat of them seeped through your jeans like the fabric wasn’t there at all.

Yeah, this was going to be a very long drive.

rest of the members under the cut!

seunghun

“Come on, hot stuff, I don’t bite.”

You scowled at Seunghun’s words and he giggled from his place in the backseat. You eyed the open door warily, then the rest of the boys who were waiting for you to get in. The drive would be uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. And after Seunghun’s goading, you were completely unwilling to lose.

You clambered into the car before you could psych yourself out of it. Seunghun opened his arms automatically to accommodate you, his hands casually linking across your stomach the moment you were settled. His arms weren’t much by way of a seatbelt, but they would have to do.

Seunghun pulled you back against his chest and laughed again at your affronted huff.

“Everyone good? Good.” Jinyoung didn’t wait for confirmation from your friend group before he shifted the car into drive. He whipped out of the parking lot with enough speed that you gasped. You unintentionally grabbed Seunghun’s thighs in an attempt to steady yourself at the same time his arms tightened around you.

Seunghun didn’t release you as Jinyoung merged into traffic. He launched into the usual bickering with the other boys almost immediately, each word he spoke vibrating into your back that was pressed against his chest.

You relaxed sooner than you thought you would. You leaned back against him, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. This position was far more intimate than you’d ever been with any of your friends, let alone Seunghun, and it affected you more than you expected.

Your heart galloped in your chest, beating so fiercely you worried he could feel it. Jinyoung ran over a pothole in the road and you inhaled sharply when the car jolted. That sensation took you by surprise, to be sure. You shifted in Seunghun’s lap at the uncomfortable heat building between your thighs and he stilled.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, quietly enough that he couldn’t be heard over the other boys’ conversation. You froze, embarrassment surging through you in a rush.

“Sorry—accident.”

The longer Seunghun considered his response, the more your anxiety grew. “You’re not… are you?” When you didn’t answer, he laughed gently. “No way.”

“Shut it, Hun.”

Seunghun’s hands slid over your hips and he lightly squeezed your waist. Another bump in the road pressed you further into his lap and you nearly groaned aloud.

Seunghun exhaled in your ear, raising pleasant chills on your neck. “This should be fun.”

yonghee

Yonghee whispered his tenth apology when the car drove over a speedbump in the road, pressing you firmly into his lap. You waved him off, trying and failing to appear casual.

In truth, you were going wild. You couldn’t seem to get a handle on the sensitivity between your legs, reacting to every sensation of Yonghee’s body against yours. He was impossibly warm and solid, his arms a comfortable brace around you as he attempted to keep you from flying across the car.

You weren’t thrilled at the idea of sitting on any of the boys' laps, but you were glad it was Yonghee. He was trying his best to be respectful, only touching you enough to keep you steady. Little did he know, that minimal contact was enough.

Your one-sided crush on him was having a field day today. It was easy enough to control your feelings when in a usual setting, but even with the other boys in the car you were struggling to keep your composure. If anything, the complete care with which Yonghee held you was only fuel to your fire.

“Are you okay?” Yonghee whispered. His voice was more strained than you expected and you turned your head to look at him. There were stars in his eyes, the mole beneath the left one close enough for you to kiss if you dared.

“Yeah… fine.”

Right, because that was convincing.

Yonghee inhaled deeply, never looking away from you as his arms tightened around your waist. You shifted on his lap again, only partly because of the way the hooligan driving—namely, Byounggon—drove over a pothole.

Heat rose in your cheeks at the sensation of Yonghee’s lap pressed firmly against your backside. He wasn’t… turned on, was he?

Judging by the way he subtly shifted against you in answer, he very much was.

You had only been in the car for half an hour. If you were already this affected, how were you going to make it through the rest of the drive?

You forced yourself to look forward again, a faint smile on your face. Maybe your crush wasn’t so unrequited, after all.

bae jinyoung

“If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my mind.”

You froze at the low sound of Jinyoung’s voice in your ear, no more than a strained whisper. Yonghee apologized from the front seat as he drove over another pothole, jostling you where you sat in Jinyoung’s lap. He exhaled heavily into your hair, his warm breath prickling your scalp.

“Doing what?” You whispered back.

Jinyoung didn’t answer. His arms around you loosened so his hands could rest on your thighs. He subtly splayed his fingers, squeezing lightly.

You released a shaky breath, aware that your cheeks were burning. Of all the boys you could have sat on during the drive, it only made sense for it to be your boyfriend. But apparently, you had made a grave mistake in doing this.

At this point, your skin was hypersensitive in every place Jinyoung touched you. His warmth seeped through your clothes, somehow as comforting as it was energizing.

Hyunsuk raised an eyebrow at you in your periphery as Jinyoung planted a soft kiss onto your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at your friend, trying your best to act unaffected by your boyfriend’s antics. It definitely didn’t work, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

This drive would be the death of you. The second you arrived at the Airbnb, you intended to steal Jinyoung away from the boys for at least an hour. That is, if you didn’t burst into flames first.

The car drove over a speedbump but you didn’t even process Yonghee’s apology anymore. Jinyoung’s fingers were lazily massaging your thighs, doing nothing to soothe the ache between them.

“You stop that,” you breathed, hardly daring to look at Jinyoung as you spoke. He laughed softly, the sound reverberating through your back. Your heart thudded unevenly in response.

Seunghun groaned dramatically from the front passenger seat. “There are thirty-eight minutes left until we get there. Then, for the love of god, please get a room.”

hyunsuk

Hyunsuk couldn’t seem to get ahold of himself. He squirmed at every bump and hole in the road, his movements only succeeding in pressing himself more firmly against you.

“Quit it, please.” You whispered, your voice low. The other boys were asleep, save Jinyoung, who was very pointedly watching the road as he drove. It was dark enough in the car that you couldn’t see Hyunsuk’s face well as you looked at him, his eyes reflecting the night sky through the window.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately. His hands were balled into fists on the seat in his effort not to touch you.

He didn’t need to apologize. In truth, you were just as affected as he was. You had been dancing around one another for months, each of you too afraid to voice your feelings aloud to the other. Of course the other boys would jump at the opportunity to make you sit in his lap during the long car ride back to the city.

You were definitely plotting Seunghun’s downfall for conspicuously shoving you into Hyunsuk’s lap.

You unintentionally shifted in Hyunsuk’s lap when the car drove over several low speedbumps in the road. The heat in your stomach rose into your cheeks and you resisted the urge to cover your face.

“How much longer?” Hyunsuk’s whisper was no more than a ghost of air moving. Apparently, he had reached the limit of his patience, as his hands at last moved from the seat to your hips. His touch was feather-light, his fingers barely curling around your hipbones as he held you to him.

“I don’t know,” you murmured back. God, the impulse to shift in his lap was enormous. “An hour?”

Hyunsuk exhaled shakily. You leaned back fully, your back pressed flush against his chest. His rapid heartbeat thudded against you, mirrored by your own.

“When we get back,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Please tell me you’ll finally let me take you to dinner.”

You laughed breathily, nervous when the low sound caused Yonghee to stir in his sleep beside you.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

if you made it this far, thank you for reading!! I'm so grateful for all of you sending requests/thoughts in my inbox, I love reading them! please like or reblog if you enjoyed it 😚

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

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— Anne Carson, Penguin Modern Poets 1: If I’m Scared We Can’t Win

[text ID: You could whisper down a well. You could write a letter and keep it in a drawer. You could inscribe a curse on a ribbon of lead and bury it in the ground to lie unread for thousands of years. The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling itself.]

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader, 3.3k

THEMES: seijoh 4, iwaizumi is an amazing singer (REAL), oikawa being oikawa

SUMMARY: Oikawa dares Iwaizumi to serenade his crush through karaoke. What’s he supposed to do? Get clowned and be called a coward for saying no?

A/N: when i first wrote this i had a justin bieber song in mind for no other reason than i think it would be funny to think about. it’s a silly lil fic but here she is (again)!!!!

Iwaizumi considers himself a reasonable person. Even though everyone on the Seijoh team teases him about his anger issues, most of the time he’s actually pretty calm.

Most of the time. Nobody activates his murder instinct more than Oikawa Tooru.

Sometimes, Oikawa will look at him with those beady little eyes and his stupid smirk and Iwaizumi has to fight the urge to punch him in the face.

Iwaizumi knows he should be the bigger person, he should go to his happy place or whatever and not let a demon ruin his peace of mind. Unfortunately for him, Oikawa happens to be his childhood best friend. (Trust him, if he could, he would turn back time.)

He has to see Oikawa everyday during practice, has to spend lunch with him, has to listen to him opening his big mouth about whatever it is he’s interested in that day. Okay maybe he’s being unfair— Oikawa isn’t all that bad. Just mostly.

It’s just that his best friend seems to have a knack for baiting him into doing things he most certainly does not want to do.

Nobody gets to tell Iwaizumi what to do, especially things that he doesn’t want to do. (Except maybe his mom of course, he’s not a monster). Yet every time Oikawa challenges him, opens his big mouth and almost taunts him about it, he always ends up doing it anyway and it makes Iwaizumi want to jump in the middle of oncoming traffic.

He never seems to learn however, and this time he’s afraid he can’t fix it just by outsmarting him or throwing a volleyball at his head. No, this time, Oikawa’s got him cornered.

For context, this is where Iwaizumi is coming from:

Iwaizumi was minding his business during lunch, tuning out Oikawa as he yapped on about something he couldn’t pretend to care about today, when Makki claps him on the shoulder and asks, “What about you Iwa? You in?”

He looks up from his food to find the entire table staring at him. “What?”

“Karaoke after practice tomorrow? Mattsun found a new one round the corner.”

“So I can listen to Shittykawa’s screeching? No thanks.”

“Hmph!” The setter indignantly huffs, tossing a used tissue at him which he swiftly dodges.

“I’m gonna invite some people from my class.” Makki says.

“And I should care because?”

“You should care because she’s in my class.”

Iwaizumi flushes bright red at the mere mention of you. A fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Oikawa.

“You still haven’t asked her out on a date?” Oikawa asks, brow raised.

“No, and it’s none of your business Shittykawa.”

“Don’t you want her to be your girlfriend?”

His girlfriend. Even the thought of it is sending a tingling feeling in his spine.

“Dude, you’re so whipped.” Mattsun retorts, snorting at the look on his face.

“I just… I don’t know how to do it.” Iwaizumi mumbles. “I’m not good with feelings and shit.”

“Well, for starters maybe try asking her out.” Oikawa suggests.

“I don’t even know if she likes me.” Iwaizumi sighs, hating that he has to explain this.

“I think she does.” Mattsun pipes in. “She has heart eyes everytime you talk to her, and I’ve never seen a girl be more affectionate than Oikawa’s fangirls.”

“She’s affectionate with everyone, she’s just nice like that.” Iwaizumi reasons. He’s seen you with other people and you’re just as friendly with everyone else— he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. “Plus, if she liked me, wouldn’t she have said something by now? I’ve dropped enough hints.”

Makki slaps the back of his head. “Idiot, you’re supposed to be making the move.”

“Isn’t it worth asking her? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to ask her all this time and you’re here waiting for her to make the move.” Mattsun says.

“Iwa-chan, if I may-”

“You may not.”

Oikawa pouts. “If you ask her, you could be dating by now.”

Iwaizumi huffs. Easy for him to say, girls confess to him everyday that he’s probably desensitized to it all. Isn’t it much easier to be confident about your feelings when you know the person reciprocates them?

“How about you serenade her at karaoke?” Makki suggests, half a sandwich shoved in his mouth.

Oikawa lights up his suggestion and shoots him a Cheshire cat smile. Iwaizumi’s heart drops to his ass.

“You want romance? Sing her a love song as a confession.” Oikawa grins.

“Oh my god, as if I would take any advice from you.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god,” this time Oikawa rolls his eyes, “all I’m hearing are excuses. Are you really that much of a coward? The Iwa-chan I know could easily sing his favourite love song to the girl he’s been crushing on forever and do it coolly.”

Iwaizumi feels a vein throbbing in his head. “You want me to serenade her in front of you guys?”

Oikawa shrugs. “Or maybe I’m wrong and you’re just lame.”

Oikawa’s words feel like a knife against his throat.

Easily sing his favourite love song. The words echo in his head. The girl he’s been crushing on forever. His fist tighten by his side. Do it coolly.

The words light a fire in his gut. Iwaizumi clears his throat, and in his most casual voice says, “I could do it.”

The three of them turn to look at him. Oikawa’s brows raise in surprise. Mattsun stops mid-air from shoving more food in his house. Makki chokes on his drink.

“Are you serious?”

“Would I say it if I wasn’t?” Iwaizumi knows he’s going to regret this. He’s already regretting it, staring at the disbelief in their eyes.

“No way,” Oikawa says, “I can’t believe you’re actually going to do it.”

Iwaizumi does not want to do it.

“I mean,” Iwaizumi takes a gulp of water, “I will totally do it if she comes. She might not even come.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that part. We’ll make sure she comes.” Oikawa grins.

Dumb and dumber share a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, don’t worry about that part Iwa. I’ll call in a favour.”

Fuck, Iwaizumi thinks. There’s no way you won’t attend now, Makki forever brags about how he helped you out in a test that one time so now you owe him.

He sighs. If he’s going to do this, he might as well do it well.

.

.

.

Iwaizumi spends the rest of the day rehearsing the stupid song. Even now, he’s at practice and he’s humming along to the rhythm in his head. His lines, the shit-eating grins that will be plastered on his friends faces, his movements.

Your reaction.

Iwaizumi watches you as you hand over your notes to Makki. Almost like you felt him watching you, you turn around and wave at him as you walk over.

“Hey!” you greet, smiling at him.

Iwaizumi thinks he could throw up right now, just at the sight of you before him. You look as pretty as ever, and here he is, a sweaty mess after spiking god knows how many balls.

“What’s up?” he greets, trying to hide just how out of breath he is.

“Tired?” you question. “You look like you’ve been practicing a lot.”

“Well, they don’t call me the ace for no reason.”

“Damn, didn’t know anyone could compete with Oikawa’s massive ego.”

“Oi, watch it.” he pretends to be offended.

“Sorry, sorry. Just never thought you of all people ever got tired.” you observe.

“I’m allowed to be tired. Babysitting Shittykawa while balancing school and volleyball is a full time job.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but exam season is coming up. You might not want to spread yourself too thin.”

“Well, if there’s a vacancy for a babysitting gig- you interested?” Iwaizumi asks, grinning at you as you roll your eyes.

“No thanks, my plate is full enough as it is.” you wrinkle your nose at the suggestion. He thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Funnily enough, making fun of Oikawa is how the two of you met. Makki had tried to set your friend Sakura with Oikawa in first year, much to your displeasure, and the whole time you had been trying to talk her out of it, much to Iwaizumi’s pleasure.

You tried listing all the reasons why it was a bad idea, and he had no trouble joining you and adding in a few reasons of his own. Together you were the dynamic duo, on a mission to stop girls from inflating Oikawa’s ego anymore than it already was.

After that day, you had exchanged numbers and a few days later found out you were both in the student council. (Not that Iwaizumi was complaining, he was looking for an excuse to talk to you more).

Speaking of the devil, Oikawa bounds out of nowhere.

“My favourite person in the world! Are you going tomorrow?”

“If you’re there, then no.” you respond, rolling your eyes at the setter.

Oikawa huffs. “You’re just like Iwa-chan.”

Makki joins in the conversation, “Karaoke tomorrow night. You’re going because Sakura already agreed.”

“Whatever happened to freedom of choice?” you question, eyebrow raised.

“Do you think this is a democracy? I run this shit.” Makki says, puffing out his chest in a bid to look more suave.

You look at Iwaizumi. “These are your friends? Really?”

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.” Iwaizumi replies, sighing.

“C’mon, what’s the worst thing that could happen?” Oikawa says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “There’s a performance you wouldn't want to miss.”

“Is it you?” you ask him suspiciously.

“I’m flattered you wouldn’t want to miss my singing, but unfortunately not.”

“That’s not what I meant!” you scowl, making Oikawa laugh as he walks away.

“Well I gotta get going. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I guess.” you say, giving Iwaizumi a quick hug that makes him freeze for a few seconds, before high-fiving Makki and giving Oikawa a pointed look before you disappear through the gym doors.

It’s that small act of affection, that small moment that makes his heart skip a beat, that makes him wonder whether there is something there.

He’s half tempted to run after you and get this whole i like you do you like me situation over and done with so he can save himself the humiliation tomorrow, but his feet remain firmly planted on the ground.

Practice resumes and Iwaizumi once again gets lost in the rhythm playing through his mind.

.

.

.

Turns out, serenading his crush in front of his friends is a bigger deal than he thought.

Iwaizumi didn’t have a lot of nerves practicing last night, he’s the school’s volleyball ace for god sake, he’s used to having eyes on him— But knowing that he has to confess his feelings, something he’d rather not do, well… It's something completely different.

He feels vulnerable. He isn’t the hearts and flowers type of guy, even though he secretly wants to be. He would never admit it, but he secretly envies the easy conversation that Oikawa is able to strike up with just about anyone- he wishes he had those people skills but he just comes out as emotionally and socially constipated.

“You don’t have to go through with this.” Mattsun says, eyeing him as they reach the karaoke bar and walk up the stairs to the room where everyone is waiting for them.

“It’s a little too late now.” Iwaizumi says, forcing a smile. “I can do it.”

“You’ll be okay.” Mattsun replies, clapping him on the back for reassurance. “Plus, if she says no, I have a cousin you might be interested in.”

Iwaizumi huffs, lightly shoving his arm off him as Mattsun laughs.

“I’m just saying, you have options!”

.

.

.

“You know,” Oikawa says, “I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

Mattsun snorts. “As if. You practically baited him into it.”

Oikawa pouts, shooting him a look. “I was just giving him good relationship advice!”

“Or, you could just say you care about Iwaizumi and want to see him happy. As much as you guys bicker, we all know how much you care about each other.”

Oikawa would deny it, but it’s no use. Not when he’s right. “Fine, I’ll admit it. It would be nice to see Iwa-chan be happy; plus it’s getting unbearable seeing the yearning in his eyes.”

Before Mattsun can respond, they hear the opening melody of a song they’ve become too familiar with for the past day and a half. Iwaizumi looks like he’s about to pass out, but to his credit remains standing.

Oikawa glances over at you, and he smiles softly at how smitten you look while looking at his best friend.

Iwaizumi clears his throat, the sound booming throughout the whole room.

“Iwa! I didn’t know you were the type to sing at karaoke.” You exclaim, giggling as you watch him fumble with the mic.

“I never really thought I’d be doing this. But someone,” Iwaizumi pointedly looks at Oikawa, “thought I would be too much of a coward to do this. And I just think it’s important to stand up to the bullies in your life.”

Oikawa’s jaw drops at his words. Mattsun and Makki are laughing so hard beside him, they starting to sound like pigs.

Oikawa is about to yell about how he did it for you, or about how his best friend is such a liar, but Iwaizumi beats him to it.

“I’m kidding.” Iwaizumi continues. “As satisfying as it is to prove people wrong, the reason I’m doing this is because there’s someone I like and I’m tired of running away from my feelings. So I’m going to sing this song to let her know.”

Your eyes go wide. Your heart is pounding so loud it might jump out of your chest.

“Who is it?” Sakura asks, giddy in her seat. She already knows the answer; there’s only two girls in the room, and she’s not on the receiving end of Iwaizumi’s googly, heart-shaped eyes. Which leaves…

Iwaizumi calls your name, bright red, “This is for you.”

“Oh my god.” Oikawa hears you mumble. But there’s nothing else you can do- you just have to listen.

Although his friends were just teasing him to try and get him to confess to you, they didn’t realise that Iwaizumi could actually sing. He was so good that they were left speechless.

Iwaizumi sings with almost enough charisma that Oikawa could fall in love with him. He sings each verse, each line, like it’s his personal truth, as if he had really written this song just for you.

It’s more romantic than any cheesy rom-com they’ve ever watched— Makki almost tears up, and Mattsun suddenly whips out his phone to record Iwaizumi singing (this is prime blackmail stuff after all).

The lyrics get a bit too specific at some parts, and in those moments Iwaizumi actually manages to look directly at you. You don’t know whether to pass out or scream.

Mattsun wonders if he should be recording you instead, how you seem to be glowing at the sight of him singing for you. But he reckons that this menory will be stored away in Iwaizumi’s head for a long time anyway.

“He’s going all out.” Oikawa whispers to Makki.

“He’s doing it to spite you.” Makki replies.

“Trust him to still get back at me while simultaneously getting the love of his life.”

Before they know it, the song ends and the cheers and hollers from the four of them fill up the room. Iwaizumi smiles and lets out a sigh of relief, the weight of the world finally falling off his shoulders.

Oikawa wants to ask what you think, but you’re already grabbing iwaizumi’s hand and dragging him out of the room.

They’re gone.

.

.

.

Iwaizumi’s sure he blacked out.

He’s sure he did well considering everyone’s cheers bursting through the room as soon as he finished, but if anyone were to ask him what happened just mere minutes ago? He wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.

He felt like a man possessed with cupid or whatever. Everything’s a blur after he made eye contact with you.

You.

You’re standing right in front of him now, in front of the karaoke bar. Your eyes are blown wide, unmistakeable. The street outside is empty.

You bite your lip, and Iwaizumi thinks this is it. The moment of truth.

“Did you like the song?” Iwaizumi asks, trying to sound casual.

“You were… amazing.” you breathe. “I didn’t know you could sing that well.”

Iwaizumi almost reaches heaven at the praise falling from your lips. He could die a happy man right now, but still, it’s not what he’s looking for. “Thanks, it was for you.”

You make a strangled noise, a mix between a scream and a loud gasp. “Iwa--”

“Listen,” Iwaizumi looks at you bravely, holding your hands in his as he stares at you earnestly, “I really like you. Always have. Would you like to go out with me?”

You stand there for what seems like hours, face growing redder by the second. “I, uh, well,I—”

Iwaizumi can’t tell if you’re trying to find a gentle way to let him down or if you’re just at a loss.

“Is that a yes or no?” Iwaizumi asks. “It’s ok if you say no, I don’t mind. Well, I would mind but it’s fine if you do—“

“No!” you blurt out, before slapping your hands across your mouth.

“Oh.” Iwaizumi says, brows raised in surprise before he almost starts to look crestfallen.

“No, that’s not what I meant!” You wave your hands in front of his face, trying to get your point across. You desperately have to fix this mess you’ve created.

“No, no, I didn’t mean no! I meant that, um-“ you stutter out.

“Be honest with me.” Iwaizumi says, trying to calm you down in your flustered state. “It’s just me.”

You seem to swallow the lump in your throat because you look up at him then, eyes shining with an unspoken feeling and Iwaizumi’s breath catches in his throat.

“I like you too, Iwa. I like you a lot.” you finally say, and his heart soars in his chest. “I was just processing what happened back there.”

Iwaizumi grins, “What, no one’s ever serenaded you before like that?”

“Of course not!” you laugh. “But then again, no one’s like you.”

“And what am I?”

“Cool. Seijoh’s volleyball ace. A great singer. Unbelievably handsome.”

Iwaizumi starts giggling at your words, unsure if this is real life. His crush actually likes him back? He feels like a child finally getting their favourite toy.

He knows he’s far from composed right now, but he could care less. Tonight, his crush is out here saying she likes him back and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t look like a lovesick fool right now. He can look cool some other time.

“Can I kiss you right now?” he asks.

You shyly nod, and Iwaizumi gently cups your cheek in his hands, leaning in.

Before he can kiss you though, he hears the last person on earth he wants to see calling his name.

“Iwa-chan!” comes Oikawa’s familiar voice.

Iwaizumi could fucking kill him right now.

“Oof, bad timing dude.” Makki says, and the setter actually looks sheepish for once.

“Sorry! We’ll wait for you guys inside.” Mattsun ushers them back in, sending Iwaizumi a wink.

Iwaizumi doesn’t even get to yell out insults, or wave goodbye to them because suddenly, your mouth is on his and his brain can’t process much more than that at the moment.

You’re kissing him. He wonders why he didn’t do this sooner.

Oikawa Tooru lives to see another day.

No one deactivates Iwaizumi’s murder instinct more than you.

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birthday bash ask!!~

let’s eat (🤤)- sarrrr this is dangerous!! i’m going to have to request mr kim mingyu (you know!!) and i’ll let you decide on a prompt(s) to use! (trust you with my all! gimme a dm if u want me to choose hehe)

5:13 p.m. — kim mingyu

prompt. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. “

wc. 955

warning. mingyu fucks reader in a dryer (very unrealistic), needy!gyu, baby fever + marriage kink (my fav combo), use of mommy [x1], unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, SO much dirty talk, pet names [baby, angel] — MINORS DNI 18+

note. thank u for sending in an ask lu,, i’m so sorry if you dont like the piece or the prompt i used !!! i know it’s a lil intense and lacks a lot of detail 😭 i was in the mood to write needy gyu with baby fever without thinking abt logistics so,,, here it is (also im sorry it’s so short </3) [not proofread if u see a typo, i literally didn’t write this]

mingyu is a sucker. you’re not sure there’s a diagnosis for what he has other than a severe case of baby fever. it's not when he sees babies that sets him off, no, it’s you. you doing anything remotely domestic like chores around the house for that matter. when you’re cooking him dinner, loading the dishwasher, dusting and sweeping in your cute little house slippers, and his personal favorite, unloading the dryer.

to put it simply, he just can’t wait to give you a baby so he can come home and spoil his gorgeous little family. the mere mention of even wanting a future with him has him weak in the knees. 

it’s why your his shirt is flipped over your ass and your panties are pushed halfway down your legs the second he finds you in the laundry room. “gyu, what the fuck are you– ah!” you cry out feeling his spit-slicked cock slip inside of you. you fall into the pile of warm clothes, the smell of clean linen filling your nose. “baby!”

mingyu groans, cock twitching at the word that’s had his head spinning for weeks, “that’s right, ‘m gonna give you a baby, angel,” he says, hands gripping your hips for dear life, the flesh of your skin nearly interlaced between his fingers. 

you moan loudly, but it’s muffled by the wild white sheets in the machine. your skin burns up as if it weren’t already on fire thanks to the fresh heat of the dryer. you knew mingyu was ruthless and needy when it came to getting his dick wet, but never would you have thought you’d be in this position as he pounds into you.

“fuck, i love you so much. love you and this fucking pussy so so much. ‘m gonna fill you up ‘n ‘m gonna marry you,” he mutters, eyes watching the way you swallow his dick whole, disappearing as it goes in and out. “gonna make you a pretty little mommy, make you my fuckin’ wife.” 

you’re partially convinced that your boyfriend has gone crazy, but the words head straight to your core, the increase in your arousal solidifying everything mingyu had said. 

his breathing becomes labored, soft moans growing louder as they morph into deep groans. your ears pick all of it up even with the walls of the dryer attempting to drown him out. “tell me you wan’ it, angel, t-tell me you wan’na baby, a pretty ring… tell me you want me forever.” 

you just can’t say no, the offer is too good. you want everything and more with this man, so you tell him exactly what he wants to hear. “i do, i wan’ it, gyu, w-wanna make you a d-dad! w-wanna marry you!”

a guttural groan erupts in his chest and his thrusts pick up, the tip of his cock ramming into your cervix eliciting a loud, muffled cry as you scream into the cloth. “baby, you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” he babbles, overstimulated tears pricking at his eyes. “i’m so close, angel. gonna fill this cunt with all my cum ‘n get you pregnant. it’s gonna take. s-swear to fucking god, it’s gonna take.”

your hands mercilessly fist at the cotton, wrinkling it in your tight grasp. you think the heat from the freshly dried sheets melts your brain because now you’re sobbing, incoherently babbling out pleas, but the only thing that can be heard in the mess of your words is the chant of his nickname, “gyu, gyu, gyu!” you clench tightly around his cock, gummy walls molding to the shape of him as they’re made to.

and, fuck, mingyu’s abdomen tightens at the euphoric feeling. his balls draw up, thrusts turning sloppy and inconsistent as he fucks into you. “shit, baby,” he mewls, his grip on your hips near bruising. “i’m gonna cum.” 

all it takes is another tight hug from your cunt and he’s a mess. his cock throbs inside the heat of your stretched cunt before he slams into you and stills, his tip pressed right against your cervix as he empties his load. 

 it’s the ripple effect that triggers your own orgasm. you moan and whine as you feel his heavy seed filling you to the brim and painting your used walls white. all the while, the knot that’s been steadily forming in the pit of your tummy completely unravels and you’re left a shaking, crying mess inside a dryer full of wrinkled, tear soaked cotton. 

it takes him longer than usual to come down from his orgasm, but he eventually eases his grip on your waist as he finds his mind again. he pulls your near-limp body out of the dryer and you let out a broken whine as you feel his cock slip out, creating a mess of cum on the ground. he doesn’t really mind seeing his load go to waste knowing he’ll pump you full the second you’ve recovered.

you slump in his arms while he wordlessly presses kisses into your hair. when you whine again, he murmurs apologetically. “sorry i was so rough, are you okay?”

you nod, still trying to catch your breath and regain stability. “it’s okay. i’m okay. just need a sec,”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, holding you in his arms till you’re able to stand on your own but then he whispers. “can we go again? are you up for it?”

you laugh softly at his need. “we can, but can we try the bed this time? do you think you’ll make it to our room without fucking me against one of the walls?”

he shrugs, grinning to himself. “we’ll see.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

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choi seungcheol what the fuck

how seventeen hug their s/o

requested by anon : "Hi! If you are still accepting requests (I'm literally so scared that I've read it wrong) can I request how svt would hold you or cuddle you? Something like that? I'm feeling very soft (and a little touch starved ahaha). Sorry if I've misread!!"

notes: this turned into what kind of hugs svt give their s/o which is kind of the same thing, but a little to the left (?) enjoy anyways haha <3

masterlist

seungcheol

hugs where he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his lap. when you want a hug, you want to feel safe and protected, and this is something he's found out through late night talks with you and tearful breakdowns where you finally admit what you really want. his arms are fully around you, keeping you in his embrace, and you're all curled up in his lap and it's the safest place you can be, surrounded by seungcheol and his sturdiness and his reassurance. he keeps you there for as long as you need, letting you fall asleep in his arms before he too dozens off, cheek against the top of your head

jeonghan

hugs where you curl up really small and feel warm. whenever you've had a bad day and appear in the doorway of whatever room jeonghan is staying in, he'll look up at you and smile, opening his arms and allowing you to run to his side almost immediately. he wraps one arm around your shoulders, the other around your waist, pulling you into his side, your head tucked under his chin and ear against his chest. you're bent over double, knees pressed into his side, but in this way you can hear his steady heartbeat and feel his warmth encompassing you. 

joshua

hugs that are the softest things in the world. joshua gives hugs often, side hugs and brief hugs and celebratory hugs where you pull away after a few seconds. but when you need a hug, need to feel his arms around you, he smiles and his eyes soften and he pulls you towards him almost delicately, one arm around your torso and the other cupping your nape as he cradles the back of your head and guides you to hide into the crook of his neck. it's gentle, soft, sweet in the way only joshua can be, before his fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you until you're laughing and screaming and completely having forgotten your sadness from earlier

junhui

hugs that feel like being on top of the world. his hugs are almost unintentionally romantic, where he either holds you delicately or wraps you completely into his warmth and his scent so you feel like burrowing into his neck and staying there forever. he's always willing with his hugs, albeit a little surprised most of the time, where his eyes widen as you tap him on the shoulder before his face lights up and melts all at once before he's immediately wrapping a hand around your wrist and pulling you against his chest, laughing and wrapping his arms around you and hugging you in just the way that you needed in that moment to feel like everything would he okay

hoshi

hugs that knock the wind out of you and knock the love into you all at once. he hugs with his entire being, with everything he has, and soonyoung's being is something that's incredibly all-encompassing and incredibly comforting to fall into. he hugs you in a way that makes the rest of the world fall away, as he hugs you tight against his chest and rocks you back and forth, making nonsense noises or spewing compliments or simply laughing and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. he's sweet with his hugs, sweet and bright, and make you well and truly feel all of the love he holds for you

wonwoo

hugs that feel like coming home. wonwoo has some sort of inherent ability to be able tell when you want a hug even before you realise yourself. he'll silently come into your room while you're working yourself up into a meltdown at your desk, and he'll just envelop you in his lavender scent and his soft sweater, chin resting against your shoulder, arms around your neck, his voice nothing more than a low rumble in your ear. he doesn't have to say anything, and his presence alone is enough to reassure you that he's here for you, that he knows you're going through something but he'll stay by your side, no matter what. 

woozi

hugs which make your heart swell and your head feel all light and giddy. woozi's hugs are quick affairs, and so, so rare, so it makes you smile widely every time they happen. he'll wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, squeezing your upper arm and kissing your temple lightly before letting you go, and it's all light touches and gentle warmth and his own pleased smile lifting his lips as he walks away, but it's the most beautiful thing ever and knowing that you're someone who he deems worthy of his hugs and his kisses? it's the most wonderful thing in the world. 

minghao

hugs where the whole world quietens and all that matters is the fact you're in his arms. he has delicate limbs, delicate touches, and as his arms wrap around you and you fall into his lap, his lips are a gentle pressure next to your ear and his fingers are light warmth that trace patterns along your back, all fluttering comfort and a promise of treating you as the most precious thing in the world. he holds you for as long as you need, keeping as silent as you desire, and there have been endless accounts of you falling asleep against his shoulder, and he's never offended, because the peace in your expression reassures him that he's helped you feel better

mingyu

bear hugs. hugs where he practically gathers you all up into his arms and holds you like he never wants to let you go, where he buries his face into your neck and presses soft kisses there before pulling away slightly to smile at you and then hugging you tighter once again. they're hugs that help you see that he's here, he's with you, he's real and he's not going away. mingyu is always so warm, and that makes him the best for hugs like this, where you can feel the love and warmth radiating off of him, both figuratively and literally. maybe it gets a little suffocating after a while, but neither of you are moving because it makes both of you feel so loved. 

dokyeom

hugs that sweep you off your feet. literally. he loves hugging you, loves showing you affection in all physical forms, and you've been a subject to his flying hugs multiple times, where he runs towards you and scoops you into his arms and spins you around until you're both laughing and your hands cradle his face and you lean down to press your lips together. he's always smiling, always beaming as bright as the sun, but when you're in his arms he's smiling impossibly wider, tightening his arms around you and wanting to make sure you feel how much you mean to him and how happy you make him. 

seungkwan

hugs that remind you that he loves you above all others. his hugs are always accompanied by a kiss on your cheek as he pulls away, and yeah he's gonna get teased by the others but it doesn't matter, because it's you, and they're all just jealous that he doesn't kiss them on the cheek. he's hugging you all the time, side hugs and back hugs and everything hugs where he hugs you with his entire being. he always lets go after a few moment, and he'll complain when you pull him back in, but he's laughing and his arms are wrapping around you once more and really, if he could have his way then he'd continue hugging you until the end of time

vernon

hugs where you simply lean into him and he becomes your support. hansol can tell when you're close to breaking point, where you feel like the whole world is going to collapse onto your shoulders, crushing you with its weight, and that's when he comes up to you, offering his shoulder, unflinching as you melt into him or collide into him, depending on how you feel. there's no other moment in which you'd let him hug you in this way. it's not even a proper hug: just your head in his shoulder, his arm around yours, but it feels so much more relaxing than any other hug. simply having him beside you, having him as your pillow and your pillar means everything to you. 

chan

hugs where it feels like he's trying to mould you into his being so you never have to leave. he hugs tightly, but also warmly, and you can almost feel the thumping of his heart in his chest because he's pulling you so close into him. they're hugs that ground you into reality, that remind you he loves you, that he is absolutely and utterly gone for you and wants you to never leave his side. they're hugs where he whispers the cheesiest things into your ear, all ticklish and adorable until it makes you burst out laughing and try to squirm out of his grasp until he hugs you even tighter, never planning to let you go. 

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written in ink | n.jm

genre ➳  historical au (early 19th century), fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

pairings ➳ professor!jaemin x fem!reader (ningning and karina are mentioned)

word count ➳ 15.3k 

warnings ➳ mentions of alcohol, mental illnesses and disorders

info ➳  second installment of batc! surprisingly, this was the one i started writing first, but it took a while to figure out how i wanted to end it. click here to read the other works :)

The oak doors of the Provost’s office are no less intimidating than they were five years ago, towering over any students who find themselves bold enough to meet him.

Even now, Jaemin finds himself swallowing nervously before knocking, even if he is the university equivalent of a teacher’s pet. This meeting would determine everything for his future classes and his research funding. Psychology already had little backing compared to the other departments - Jaemin refused to let it languish away under him.

“Ah. Professor Na. Sit down, please.” The leather armchair is comfortable, and costs much more than the one he has in his office - the benefits of being the Provost reach far and wide, Jaemin supposes, even to the furniture.

“I called you today for something important. As you know, our university has a limited number of scholarships available for the faculty each year.”

Jaemin feels eagerness rise up at the thought of being one of the few professors selected to receive the scholarship in mention, which would provide money - plenty of it. He’s young, though, and the odds are not in his favour when measured up against the eminent figures who have been here for decades.

Still, Jaemin hopes that graduating with first-class honours and being the youngest professor in the history of the university counts for something.

“I do have good news. And bad.” Jaemin doesn’t like the sound of that. He knows the alteration of language is meant to soften a certain blow or some demand that will be required of him. The drumming of Mr Lee’s fingers indicates nervousness, and so does the number of times he’s cleared his throat.

After all, Jaemin is no stranger to the study of human behaviour. He waits, because there is nothing that Jaemin can do now other than listening.

“The admission board looks favourably upon you and wishes to give you the scholarship.” Jaemin waits a little longer.

“However, -” There it is.

“Due to your age, we understand that you have not yet had a full-length research project completed. However, it is a provision under the scholarship.”

Jaemin looks at Mr Lee questioningly. Both men in this room know that full-length research projects take at least half a decade, and Jaemin has barely been teaching for two years. He finds the irony of it amusing: without the scholarship, Jaemin does not have the funds to complete his research. Yet, he cannot get the scholarship in mention without his sixty-page paper.

“You’re doing well in your career, Professor Na, and there’s always the next cycle of scholarships. A little bit more waiting, I’m afraid, but waiting comes with an academic career.”

Jaemin knows that he has time. More of it than others, in fact. But the ambition in him refuses to die down, to keep sailing on this high in his career and see how far he can reach before he falls. Modern Icarus, he presumes, the sun replaced by his name in publications and award ceremonies.

“When’s the deadline for the research paper?” Mr Lee evidently does not expect Jaemin to actually take interest in the offer, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Counting today, a little over a year. But-”

“I’ll do it. I would appreciate it if you submitted my name for confirmation, Mr Lee.”

Despite the doubt on his face, Mr Lee nods, showing his agreement. Before Jaemin can regret his statement, he stands up from the comfortable armchair and leaves the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re insane. Absolutely, utterly insane. Studying psychology has turned you mad.”

“Shut up, Lee Donghyuck.” The boy in question is stretched out on a chaise, leather shoes dangling off the end. In his waistcoat and rumpled dress shirt, Haechan is exactly who he looks to be: a debauched bachelor of high society, indulging in weekends of endless alcohol and dancing.

“He’s right.” Renjun speaks from the corner of the room, where he’s curled up in a chair near the fireplace. Jaemin looks to Jeno for support, but the man simply shrugs from where he’s standing at the doorway.

“You may be the brightest among the few of us, but even I know a year won’t be enough to complete it. Most definitely not by your standards.” Despite Jeno’s lack of support, he still knows him the best.

Jaemin could definitely half-ass a project for the scholarship-it would cut his work by a third, maybe even half. Yet, he would never be able to live with it.

“The line between genius and insanity is so fine. Sometimes I think Jaemin teeters so very close to the latter.”

“That’s your last warning, Donghyuck, before I take the red wine in your hands and pour it over your mother’s favourite carpet,” Jaemin snaps, levelling a sharp gaze at him.

Haechan sits up, a look of faux horror in his face. The jester may fear few things, but his mother’s wrath is one of them. The other being the occasional obsessive daughters of businessmen from the trail of women he leaves jilted.

Nevertheless, this is what makes up Jaemin’s days. If not busy in his office or teaching students, he spends his time with these three other men, who provide sufficient socialization to keep Jaemin from being deemed a social pariah by his overbearing mother. Childhood friends who he met from dinner parties, when their parents had sent them off in favour of gossip and hors d’oeuvres.

The scholarship money is paltry compared to the wealth of their four families combined, and the inheritance that Jaemin will receive eventually. His father would likely not hesitate to fund the project either, but the idea of using money that is not yet his leaves a sour taste in Jaemin’s mouth.

Maybe that’s why Jaemin still uses that broken armchair and forces himself to sleep in the cramped dorm room given to tenured professors - he’s always wanted to prove something. Whether to himself or to the superiors at university, he’s not entirely sure.

The clock strikes two, and the party outside shows no signs of ceasing. After all, it is the weekend, and everyone outside has too much time and money to spend.

”Well, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. I’ll see all of you next week.” The boys nod their farewells, and Jaemin takes his coat from the butler.

He narrowly avoids crashing into someone right as he turns the corner.

Jaemin pauses briefly to take in the appearance of the person before him. Your hair is tied in a chignon and decorated with a studded headband. In your hand, there is a glass of sparkling wine.

If anything, Jaemin thinks you look like the female version of Renjun. But Renjun’s sister is much, much younger.

Evidently, Jaemin’s silence has caused you to grow impatient, and you stride past quickly. Jaemin watches the agitation of your gait as you walk towards the room he had just left. Perhaps he was wrong about the sister part. You definitely fit the bill of a revengeful ex-lover.

“Lee Donghyuck, you owe me money. Hand it over, you cheat,” is the last thing Jaemin hears that night when he leaves the hallway.

Jaemin discovers exactly who you are two weeks later when you arrive in the form of three sharp knocks on his door.

“Come in.” It’s likely to be a student, he thinks, and Jaemin sighs because he’s told them countless times of the ever-present consultation schedule that they can fill in at the administrative office. Yet, every evening, there’s that one anxious student pacing outside his office, hoping for some morsel of knowledge before the final exams come around.

His friends aren’t known to be the type to knock either, unless for some sort of prank. The long day is wearing on him much more than expected, and he silently hopes the session will be brief.

However, Jaemin’s pretty sure you’re not a student. One, because he’s a good professor who makes an effort to know all his students. Second, he’s pretty sure none of the female students go around campus in cocktail dresses.

“You’re Jaemin, aren’t you? Donghyuck’s friend.”

“That would be me. Any reason you’re in my office at eight on a Friday evening?” Jaemin tries not to show surprise at your knowledge of Haechan’s real name, the one he uses for close friends.

Whether Haechan’s prospective creditor or jilted lover, however, Jaemin has little interest to find out why you’ve extended his working hours.

“You need money. I have it, and I need you to do something for me in return.” Definitely a creditor, then. Perhaps this was your job. Lending money to noblemen, and charging exorbitantly high-interest rates. In your defence, it was a smart way to go about things.

But something caused Jaemin to pause. A creditor wouldn’t be the worst way to go, especially if he could pay you after the scholarship funding had come in.

“What’s the interest rate?” This time, it’s your turn to look confused, before realization settles in. Compared to your imperious demeanour from the previous time, you look almost sheepish.

“I’m not a moneylender. Haechan just needed funds to buy something for a friend. Honestly, this deal is more for me than it is for you.”

Jaemin continues looking at you, motivating you to explain.

“I’ll fund the research, and help you with it. In return, I want to be able to attend on-campus lectures. And I want my name as an assistant author on the publication.”

“So this is a bribe?”

“Not a bribe. Think of me as an investor. I contribute, and in return, I get a stake in the research.”

“You’d be better off in the Business faculty then. The applications for enrolment open in December this year. ”

“You know every woman the officers admit to this university is done only to the bare minimum to fill those statistics. I’ve been trying for the past three years. I can show you my applications.” The desperation in your voice fills Jaemin with a sense of shame somehow - he, star student and youngest professor. Would his life have been different if he was you?

Jaemin’s well-aware of the discriminatory policies employed by the admissions department - it doesn’t help that most of them are elderly men who remain rooted in the old traditions.

Jaemin hasn’t seen a female Psychology student before, because the only degrees truly open to them are in education and nursing. Essentially, you’re contracting him as a tutor, besides the partnership on the research.

He looks at your attire, and it makes sense to him now - you must be a weekly attendee of Donghyuck’s raucous parties. He grabs his coat, and you move, as if almost to physically stop him from leaving until he agrees to your demands.

“I’m willing to allow you to attend lectures for free. However, I’m unaware of your qualifications, even if you’re Donghyuck’s friend. Send me your applications, and I’ll think about it.” You look surprised at his agreement, and even Jaemin is - he’s not one to entertain many demands, and he works better alone on research. He shouldn’t even be considering it, and yet.

You smile gratefully at him, just as the clock ticks half past eight. “Oh, I’m running late. Here are the applications, and other information. I do have to leave now, but my mail address is in the file. Thank you so much, Jae- Professor Na.” You stumble over his name, but before Jaemin can react, your purse is in your hand and your coat over your arm.  The door closes with a final resounding thud, leaving the room silent once again. The quiet now feels empty, and Jaemin glances towards the coffee table you had just been at a few seconds ago.

You came prepared, obvious in the way the bundle of papers are neatly arranged in a file and labelled. Jaemin picks it up, only to be greeted by a picture of your profile. You look much younger in the photo, still starry-eyed with excitement. L/N Y/N, twenty-one years of age.

He wonders whether the repeated rejections from the university admissions dulled it, instead replacing the excitement with steely conviction. He must have been a last resort of sorts, a lucky strike in the dark at pursuing your aspirations before they fizzled out completely. Jaemin can imagine the officers receiving your file and pushing it back to the return address unopened, explaining the pristine condition.

Maybe he doesn’t owe it to you to look through, but Jaemin feels like he does. A glance at the clock, and Jaemin rubs his eyes tiredly. It seems his working hours will be extended, after all.

You’ve never been very good at billiards.

You’re not sure why Renjun requested it instead of cards, considering the both of you make a good team against Donghyuck and Jeno. Now, however, you are losing terribly, and the debt Donghyuck owes you is slowly dwindling.

With him, however, it’s always one person owing the other. You’ll simply have to beat him in bridge later. Renjun makes eye contact with you, and you shrug. The victor is obvious, and it can be seen with every teasing lilt of Donghyuck’s voice.

Jeno can only smile silently as he scores, but you think that might be worse. The black ball rolls to the corner of the table and drops in, with Donghyuck letting out a cheer.

Just then, Donghyuck glances at his wrist. Decorated with a flashy Patek Philippe, it’s both annoyingly ostentatious and eye-catching. A perfect fit for the owner, you suppose.

”Well then, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. Y/N, you owe me six thousand now. I also accept payment in the form of wine, though six thousand won’t be nearly enough for a good bottle.”

Your brows lower in a frown. “Aren’t you staying for bridge?”

“And lose ten thousand dollars to you? No thank you. Jeno can do it if he wants.” Donghyuck smiles sweetly before exiting the room, and you’re half tempted to chase after him.

“Don’t bother. He’s off to find the love of his life.” Renjun says offhandedly.

“You mean the love of the week, Renjun.”

Jeno shakes his head, and you look at him curiously. “They’re not in a relationship. It’s his best friend. Every week, at twelve, he’s off.”

For someone like Donghyuck, who chooses when time moves and when it doesn’t, the punctuality is pleasantly surprising. You think back to the way he started to get slightly more jumpy and nervous as the clock ticked nearer, and a fond smile finds its way onto your face.

He must really be happy. You briefly wonder what it’s like, to look forward to the sight of someone so earnestly.

Then, your mind gets drawn back to the present. “We need four people for bridge. I can try calling Jisung, but he might be busy.” Renjun says.

“I’ll go get some more champagne. Anything else you guys want?” Renjun and Jeno shake their heads, and you prepare yourself to confront the din of the ballroom. From a corner, the string instruments of the band carry across the high ceilings, and couples dance in circles. There are at least a hundred, maybe even more. You suppose that’s why there are parties every weekend. Renjun’s huge estate would feel much too empty with just him and the occasional visitor.

You’re too busy admiring the lacquered walls and mahogany detailing, that it’s too late when you realise you’ve bumped into someone. You gasp, mainly because you’re shocked, but also because the champagne in your hands has ended up on the floor.

And on Jaemin’s clothes, unfortunately.

“I am so sorry,” you stutter out, but you’re at a loss even as the servants rush over and clean up the mess you’ve made. However good a partnership you’ve offered him, you’re quite sure it’s all gone now. You definitely wouldn’t offer someone the same mercies, especially if they spilt champagne all over you out of their own idiocy.

Yet, Jaemin breaks into a radiant smile. “It’s alright.” He says, and you’re not sure what to believe. Perhaps he’s maintaining politeness, especially in a room with so many eyes.

“No, wait. Please let me pay for the suit. It must be expensive.” Judging by the look of the fabric and the way it’s tailored to Jaemin’s figure, it will cost a pretty penny to compensate. Jaemin shakes his head, shrugging off the now-damp jacket and passing it to a butler who immediately heads down the hallway. This is Renjun’s house, after all, and Jaemin is a familiar face to the staff.  The jacket will be laundered promptly and delivered to his house before the week is over.

“It’s genuinely alright, Miss L/N. I came to find you, so this is just as well.” A sense of resignation overtakes you. No wonder Jaemin’s being so kindly. He must be here to reject your offer of a partnership. You’re glad he agreed to the lectures, but the thought of having to see him afterwards during lessons feels mortifying.

The short conversation with Jaemin in his office was much more revealing than you had hoped. You must have looked desperate, and maybe that’s why he took pity on you.

However, you refuse for that to be the only impression he has of you, and instead paste a smile on your face.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, then.”

The chilly night air is welcoming, and you’re glad you wore a longer dress tonight. On this balcony, you can see the entire expanse of Renjun’s family estate. He’s always been the proudest of the gardens, and rightfully so- an endless expanse of green stretches out, decorated by carefully maintained flora. In the far distance lies his personal arboretum and workroom, where he does most of his painting.

“Mr Na, if you’re here to tell me bad news, now seems like a poor time. Monday would be much more fitting.” A low laugh cuts through the hushed atmosphere, and you almost feel proud.

“Then I am glad that this is good news.” Your sharp intake of breath can be heard on the silent balcony, and you peer at him, willing him to continue.

“I read your applications. And your essays. It was surprising. The quality…the insights made…you’re leagues ahead of my best students and most of the peers I had. And…”

The compliment settles down into you, a kernel of warmth despite the low temperature. You incline your head in thanks. “And?”

Jaemin looks hesitant of his actions, and you can tell he’s thinking very hard about how to word something. One second passes, and then two.

“I think I could benefit from having your contributions to the research.”

There is complete silence for a moment, and then you huff out a laugh. However, it comes out more as a relieved sigh.

He agreed. Na Jaemin, the top student on the honor roll and the youngest Psychology professor in the history of the university, has agreed to take you on as a partner in his research.

For some strange reason, his approval means so much more than anything the interview officers could have said to you. Even if they had accepted your application, it would be nothing compared to what Jaemin has just told you.

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth rise up slightly, and you’re sure he can see the happiness on your face.

“Looking forward to working with you, Miss Y/N L/N.” Jaemin’s palm is warm against yours as he shakes your hand, and you can’t help the sense of hope that fills you.

“Just Y/N is fine.” You’re determined not to disappoint him, to show that you were worth the chance.

“Please address me as Jaemin as well, then. The first lecture is at nine on Monday. It’s quite late, so I’ll leave you to enjoy the party. We can discuss the specifics after.”

Just as he is about to leave, however, a thought comes into your head, and a grin inevitably makes its way onto your face.

“Jaemin!” You call, and he turns around. The name flows nicely, and it’s easy for you to say, almost familiar. Under the chandelier, his eyes sparkle brightly, even as hints of fatigue creep at the sides.

“How good of a hand are you at bridge?”

“Metempsychosis. Can anyone tell me what that means?” Immediately, multiple hands are raised, and Jaemin looks at the students appraisingly.

He tries not to let his gaze drift to the corner of the room where a woman is seated, fountain pen in hand. Your entrance into the room had drawn plenty of eyes in the morning - the Psychology department had never seen a female student before, and the confident uptilt of your head only served to further emphasise that.

Fortunately enough, university students were one of the most self-contained populations to be found. They asked few questions about others and more about themselves, which meant there wasn’t the danger of news of your presence getting around to the admission officers. Not that they would have cared much - after all, security wasn’t particularly strict on the campus.

Jaemin points to a boy with curled black hair, signalling him to reply.

“The transmigration of the soul. Reincarnation after death, essentially.” Jaemin nods. “Very good. I know the majority of us here likely don’t believe in reincarnation, but Plato did, and that’s why we’re here now.” This draws a few laughs from his audience, and Jaemin smiles.

“However, we aren’t here to discuss life after death. I want you to think about the soul. What is it, in relation to the body? Where does its importance lie?” The hall falls silent, and Jaemin sees students flipping through their notes, as if hoping an answer will descend from the sky.

This time, his gaze falls on you and your raised hand. “Y/N. Would you like to contribute?” Jaemin’s equal parts torn between diminishing your presence to prevent unnecessary attention, and the desire to hear your opinion.

To you, Jaemin’s piercing gaze is unnerving, even from far away. It almost makes you doubt your answers. Pull yourself together, Y/N.

“The soul is the source of our life and mind. Our body is nothing more than a physical vessel of flesh. Our soul makes us human.“ You had done an essay analysing Phaedo the previous season, and its core arguments remained clear in your head.

“A classic argument by Socrates. What makes up a soul, then?” Jaemin smiles slightly, and you recall. He’s read your essay, and he knows your exact thoughts. Does he wish for you to share it with the class?

The students are staring at you now, slightly more intrigued.

“The tripartite soul theory. Our physical desires, intangible passions, and our need for truth. More simply put, what we want, what we love, and what we think,” you state, eyes fixed on Jaemin’s expression. His barely-there grin turns much more obvious, and it makes you feel pleased with yourself.

“Very well said. The link between psychology and philosophy is much closer than many of us think, despite one being a science and the other an art. That brings me to the assigned readings for this week, which will delve more into the tripartite soul theory that Y/N mentioned, among others. I’ll see everyone next week.”

The students shuffle out of the lecture hall, nodding at Jaemin in greeting as they leave. Many of them look at him with barely-concealed admiration, despite only being a few years younger. It almost makes you envious.

“That was…a good lecture. I enjoyed it.” Your compliment comes out hesitantly, but you mean it sincerely. Jaemin’s a much better presenter than you imagined, and you found yourself laughing at his well-placed quips more often than you didn’t. The students are lucky to have a lecturer like him, compared to the grumpy, stone-faced ones the university is so well-known for.

“Thank you. I would offer for you to be my teaching assistant, but it would be better not to push our luck for now. I trust my students, but not too much. Shall we head to my office?”

You follow Jaemin down the winding halls of the faculty building, the sunlight streaming in through the arched windows. When you reach his office, your face is slightly red, and Jaemin notices it.

“Sorry. My office is a little far from the lecture hall. Also, I tend to walk a bit faster when I’m alone,” Jaemin apologises, and you shake your head. It’s not entirely his fault that he’s almost a head taller than you, and one step of his is twice of yours.

However, you’re grateful for the cold glass of water that he passes to you. Jaemin clears his throat, causing you to glance at him.

“Here’s what I have so far. Take a look, and tell me what you think.” The file is heavy in your hands, and Jaemin’s signature scrawl can be seen on the first page.

The title causes you to let out an incredulous laugh. Jaemin arches an eyebrow, almost concerned, and you realise he may have taken the laughter the wrong way. “Is it very surprising?”

“No, not at all,” you rush to clarify. “I just…can’t believe that someone would actually want to research into the exact same field.”

It’s bizarre, really, considering how much you thought your ideas would be scorned. The idea of cognitive function being a scientific field of study isn’t yet accepted by many, and would be unlikely to gain any sponsorship.

You had expected Jaemin to propose studies into behavioural psychology. Pavlov’s dogs and conditioning. It was soaring in popularity within academic circles, and seemed to be the only research done these days. Yet, each of the experiments conducted seemed to become crueller in nature, aimed at publications to shock the public. That was where the money was, after all.

Jaemin feels a sense of relief at your words. His nervousness was unnecessary, after all. When he had first compiled the file, he wasn’t sure how you would respond. After all, cognitive psychology had barely been recognized as a legitimate field of study. Perhaps you would think he was dragging you down with him.

“Memory and perception. They differ from person to person, and I want to find out why,” Jaemin states, and you nod, barely able to contain your excitement.

‘We’ll have to plan out the methodology, of course. There was a report published about long and short-term memory by an American doctor. Of course, it’s not entirely verified, but I think it’ll be of great help.”

Jaemin watches as you stride across the room, throwing ideas out whenever they come to mind, with a faint smile lingering on his face. Each one of them is written down carefully in his notebook to ponder over later, once you leave.

“And I was thinking, maybe if we- oh, I got carried away.” Your rapid footsteps pause and you feel your face turning red. Jaemin, polite as ever, had been listening to your rambling without interruption.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. I genuinely enjoy listening to your ideas. Please don’t hesitate to share them.” You can tell Jaemin is being earnest from the way he looks at you, pen in his hand. The feeling of having someone listen to you and value your contributions feels slightly foreign, but the feeling it brings is definitely one of happiness.

By the time the both of you are done with a tentative outline, the sun is close to approaching the horizon, and you rub your eyes blearily.

“I think we’re done for today,” you barely hold back a yawn as you say it, and Jaemin tries not to laugh at your appearance.

“We’re running on quite a tight timeline, but I think we’ll make it. Would meeting four times a week be alright with you?” Jaemin asks, and he allows you a few seconds to consider.

“That works. I’ll see you on Thursday, then. Have a good evening, Jaemin.” As you leave, you wonder what time Jaemin will finish his work. The last time, he had come to the party after midnight.

Na Jaemin intrigues you at every turn, and you wonder what you will discover about him next.

“Where were you today?”

The tune you’re humming under your breath quickly stills to a halt, and you almost trip over the marble floor of your hallway. Looking at the ceiling, you curse your luck. Of all the days that your father had to be home early, it had to be today.

“I was with a friend,” your voice comes out shaky, and you hate yourself for it. Turning around, you steel your nerves for his interrogatory glare.

“Are you messing around with that stupid boy again? Donghyuck?” Your father’s tone is accusatory, and his disapproval of Donghyuck is evident. Donghyuck’s parties are the talk of the neighbourhood, often for bad reasons among the older generation, and good among your peers. it definitely doesn’t help that you can often hear the commotion, considering his estate is less than two miles down.

“I wasn’t with Donghyuck today, for a matter of fact. And he isn’t stupid,” you defend. Donghyuck may be brash, and playful, but he is your friend.

“That boy is a good-for-nothing and will drink himself to death one day. You’re a proper lady and should act like it. Stop going to his parties, and stay at home.”

“And what? Stare at the pretty wallpaper until I’m driven to insanity out of boredom?” You bite back, glaring at your father. He’s never been particularly supportive of your attempt to obtain a degree and proper employment, still stuck in the yesteryears of his childhood.

“You foolish girl. You’ll realise it when your reputation is ruined.” Your father’s voice is full of venom, and you try not to flinch at his harsh words. Instead, you stride resolutely down the hallway and close your bedroom door with a harsh bang.

Fatigue overtakes you properly now, combined with emotional exhaustion. When you’re sure you’re alone, you allow your shoulders to droop slightly, shrugging off your coat. The quiet night air provides a source of comfort as you settle onto the ottoman at the foot of your bed. You’re not sure when it became like this. When your home became an unfamiliar place and your family turned hostile. Your mother is sweet to you, but she is also docile to your father, which you supposed has worsened it so much more.

That night, you lie down in your bed, turning Jaemin’s words over and over in your head, almost as if you’ll discover a new meaning behind them. They soften the harsh blow of your father,  acting as a balm against the invisible bruises of his words.

Teaching assistant.

The idea seems almost impossible to you, and yet. A job doing what you loved, and having the time to do your own research, undisturbed. An official position that would make sure no one could question what you were doing at the university.

And Jaemin. Having him as a colleague would be enjoyable, to say the least. He made a good partner. Maybe if you were patient enough, you could even become an associate professor.

You didn’t dare to verbalize that thought, for it felt a bit too out of reach. For now, at least.

“We’ll have the salmon filet and the beef rib as well, thank you. And three glasses of Chardonnay.” The waiter nods, taking the menus off the table.

“Wait, Renjun, Jeno, look,” Donghyuck points across the street, outside the window of the restaurant.

Across the street is you, in a light pink dress, and what looks to be a stack of books. Next to you is a man whose back looks awfully familiar to Donghyuck, and he can’t place it exactly. Until he gasps dramatically.

“That traitor. He said he wasn’t available for dinner today. But he’s out with Y/N. What the hell are they doing together?” Donghyuck’s pretty sure the both of you aren’t acquainted, and he’s not sure what exactly to make of it. There aren’t many explanations for the both of you to be seen alone with each other, unless…

“Oh, they met a while ago. Jeno and I played bridge against the both of them,” Renjun casually drops this piece of information, and Donghyuck stares at him. This must have happened after he had left.

The wine is served, but Donghyuck doesn’t take a single sip. Instead, he watches very carefully. The moment he sees you leave the store, Jaemin quickly takes over half the books from your hands. You walk on the inside of the pavement, Jaemin at your side.

A knowing smile appears on Donghyuck’s face as he watches the both of you approach the exact same restaurant where he is seated in.

“You look a little creepy, Donghyuck. Stop it,” Jeno mutters, as he sees Haechan’s face.

“I have a very good idea. But I need the both of you to help.”

Renjun looks over at Donghyuck suspiciously, and with valid reason. He’s not entirely sure what Haechan has planned, and whether it’ll turn out well or an absolute disaster. “What is it?” Renjun asks.

“I’ll tell you guys later. Jaemin! Y/N! Over here!” Haechan shouts as the both of you near his table. The familiar baritone of Donghyuck’s voice rings out across the restaurant, and you turn to him, immediately making your way over.

While you’re engrossed in talking to Renjun, Haechan meets Jaemin’s eyes. Liar, he mouths across the table, and Jaemin simply rolls his eyes.

“What are those books for?” Jeno does the task of asking the question on Donghyuck’s mind.

“Oh. Well…” You cast a glance at Jaemin, not entirely sure what to say. You’re not sure how much he wants to divulge to the three of them about the project, considering it isn’t exactly the most conventional arrangement.

“Y/N’s working with me as an assistant researcher and author. It’ll be a joint publication.”

Renjun hums quietly under his breath, taking in the information. “Y/N, are you sure you want to work with this guy? He doesn’t understand the concept of working hours.”

“Jaemin’s a great colleague, actually. I almost feel bad for not working as hard as him, considering he still has to teach.” You’re quick to speak for Jaemin, and it makes him light up visibly.

Jeno watches as Donghyuck’s grin gets inevitably wider the more he watches the both of you interact, and he realises that the boy has found a new occupation of interest: matchmaking.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, soft enough for you to hear but not the other three men at the table. He knows that he’ll definitely be the subject of Donghyuck’s incessant questions and meddling, but he rather it be later than sooner.

For now, he is content with watching as you crack jokes with Renjun and make Donghyuck the subject of said mockery. While your confidence in front of his students is admirable, you become witty and lively in the comfort of people familiar to you, and Jaemin finds himself enjoying the sight more than expected.

The street is still busy despite the late hour when the five of you finally finish dinner. Your feet are starting to ache from the stiff satin heels that you’ve been walking in all day, and the heavy, leather-bound books only serve to make it worse. Donghyuck hails two cabs, one for the three of them and another for you and Jaemin.

“Night out?” The driver asks once both of you are settled in, flashing a friendly smile. There is white hair creeping at the edges of his beard, and two sun-weathered hands gripping the steering wheel.

Both Jaemin and you nod, and you decide to look out the window, watching as the scenery outside changes from the city centre to the suburbs.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come with me today to get the manuals. I could have saved you the hassle,” Jaemin says, and you turn to him. In the dim glow of the streetlights, his profile is shrouded by shadows, his features somehow softened.

“It really wasn’t an issue. Besides, you spoke so fondly of that bookstore, and I can see why now.”

“They have one of the biggest collections on psychology, and the most frequently updated too. Though the medicine and history shelves are also very extensive.”

“It’s a pity we were short of time today, then. Maybe next time you can show me around,” you suggest, and Jaemin nods his assent. It almost feels like a promise.

Somewhere along the way, the jam-packed buildings turn into carefully manicured garden hedges, and the driver goes up the familiar winding path leading to your home.

Jaemin alights from the taxi and is at your side much quicker than you can comprehend, opening the door for you. “I guess this is it. Good night, Jaemin,” you say, smiling up at him. He inclines his head slightly, passing you the books. You’ll have to finish reading most of them by next week, but instead of dread, you find yourself looking forward to the days you spend in Jaemin’s office working on the project.

Once back in the taxi, Jaemin watches as you disappear into the foyer of your house, books in hand. He only turns his head back once the lights of your family’s estate fade away.

“Your sweetheart?” The driver’s voice jolts Jaemin out of his reverie. It is a perfectly innocent question, and yet catches him off guard. Jaemin vehemently shakes his head. “Just a colleague.” He sees the driver smile in the rearview, and Jaemin thinks it reminds him awfully of Haechan’s grin.

“The both of you would make a handsome couple,” he comments, and Jaemin chooses to remain silent. Objectively, Jaemin does find you beautiful. Any person with two working eyes could likely deduce that. But he’s barely known you for two months, and worked with you for even less. The idea of developing feelings for you, or anyone for that matter, seems like a rather bizarre idea.

More than that, he admires you for your talent and the ideas you contribute during the many discussions. You’re not just a colleague and an assistant, but a friend whose presence Jaemin feels rather comfortable in, no less than the trio he so often sees. He can’t help but think that the project would have been unlikely to come to fruition without your help and that perhaps you, Y/N L/N, came at the exact right time.

“Now, what has been keeping our Y/N so occupied that she can barely meet us once a week?” Karina levels her gaze at you from above her cup, expecting an answer. You do feel slightly guilty to have cancelled on both her and Ningning repeatedly over the past few weeks, simply due to the fact that you had chosen to sleep in after burning the midnight oil.

“Employment. I’m not sure if the both of you have ever heard of it,” you remark drily, though you know it’s untrue. Despite what may seem to be lives of leisure, Karina and Ningning are two of the hardest-working people you know. One is a famous actress, the other running a leading fashion house.

“Did you finally get a job at the university?” Ningning asks, overjoyed on your behalf.

“Sorry to let you down, but it’s not yet permanent. I’m working as a research assistant for this one professor and attending lectures on campus.”

“Who’s the professor?” Karina is curious, and you’re sure she plans to do some poking around. After all, several of the elders in her family are long-standing alumnae of the university, and she knows most, if not all of the prominent faculty members. Except for your colleague, however.

“He’s quite young. Na Jaemin,” you mutter, already expecting her surprised gasp.

“You’re working with Na Jaemin? First-class honours student Na Jaemin? My grand-uncle kept waxing lyrical about him a few years ago. He’s rising so quickly through the ranks, they think he might just become Provost before the decade is over,” Karrina informs, and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride for the way she speaks about Jaemin. He would make a good Provost, you think. At least he wouldn't stop female students from being admitted, and definitely would not have been suspected of embezzling funds for personal use.

“Is he scary? Academics can get that way. I suspect most of them have a screw loose, actually.” Ningning interjects, and you look at her, amused. The previous winter, Ningning had been involved with a famous Arts professor from a rival university. Needless to say, the both of them had not ended on the best of terms.

“He’s very sweet, actually. Leagues ahead of the other stuffy old men at the university. He’s a great teacher too.”

“Is he good-looking?” Karina’s sly smile from behind her teacup causes you to narrow your eyes at her.

“Haven’t you met him before?” Karina’s a regular guest at many of the university's forums and seminars. Being the great-granddaughter of the university’s founder exempts her from the open disdain of the Provost towards members of the opposite sex, especially when she’s the one forking out his salary.

Karina had offered you an easy way in: one word from her, and you would be enrolled immediately. Still, it felt like admitting defeat in some way. You wanted to make a career in some way based on your own merit, and Jaemin provided a semblance of that.

“I’ve only seen him briefly. I don’t think he’s attended a single function this year. Maybe he’s antisocial?”

“Or just introverted,” Ningning mumbles, and you smile at her. Karina and yourself have always been the more outgoing ones of your trio, finding it easier to make conversation with total strangers. In fact, the both of you had been the ones to meet Ningning, before realising she had been a mutual acquaintance and solidifying the trio.

Still, you can’t say you’re surprised at the knowledge that Jaemin rarely attends any of the university’s gatherings for the faculty. After all, many of the men there are twice his age, and the atmosphere likely isn’t the most enjoyable. Which makes it even more impressive that his superiors hold in in such high regard, considering how everyone makes it their mission to make powerful connections in circles such as theirs.

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Karina says insistently, and you shrug. “He’s decent, I suppose. Most people would find him attractive.”

“So do you find him attractive?” Ningning is curious now too, almost leaning all the way forward. You make a face at both of them. “What’s up with the strange questions today?”

Karina grins, leaning back, and makes a pointed glance at Ningning. “Please don’t try to play matchmaker. We’re only colleagues. Besides, I doubt a relationship would be something Jaemin is remotely interested in, considering his hectic work,” you warn.

“She even took into account his work schedule. Not bad,” Ningning mutters, trying not to let out a laugh. You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge the both of them temporarily. Despite their teasing and love for meddling, you are sure that Karina and Ningning will not do anything without your knowledge.

Compared to both of them, there hasn’t been much space for romance in your life. Karina’s image was always plastered in the newspapers with whichever actor she was working with, while Ningning had her fair share of encounters with fellow designers and models. After all, you spent much of your time attempting to pursue your career, albeit rather unsuccessfully. While you enjoyed parties and balls, the men you met there were often uptight in the way that members of the gentry were. The ones that you found tolerable remained purely platonic. You think you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than ever be involved with Renjun, Jeno or Donghyuck.

Jaemin was…well, Jaemin. Professor extraordinaire, a brilliant student of psychology, and a friend whose presence you found more enjoyable each and every day. Karina and Ningning see your gradual drift into your own thoughts and remain silent, attempting to hide their grins behind their food.

They wonder if maybe, just maybe, you might have spoken too soon.

Another season passes, and winter is heralded by the bone-white landscape and empty, ghostly trees that make up the campus. Still, you find a strange sort of beauty in it, even if it lacks the warm tones of autumn.

It’s also much easier to appreciate the landscape when you are curled up in an armchair in Jaemin’s office, the fireplace burning brightly and a cup of hot chocolate in hand. Although small, his office is cosy and homely, with dark oak furnishings dotting the room and a plush white carpet in the middle of the room. Over the past half a year or so, his office has grown to be like a second home, considering how much time you spend in it. He’s even given you a space of your own, where your books and stationery are arranged neatly on a shelf.

You’ve grown accustomed to the sight of Jaemin sitting at his desk, fountain pen in hand. He’s often busy marking scripts, occasionally muttering to himself when the paper is exceptionally good, or disappointing. He lets out a noise of disgruntlement, and you glance up.

“Rough essay?” You ask, and Jaemin rubs his forehead, extending the papers in your direction.

“Take a look, and tell me what you think. I know this student is good, but I think they rushed this project. However, I don’t want to completely derail their academic grade and destroy a chance of a scholarship.”

Jaemin waits patiently while you read through the essay, watching as you furrow your eyebrows at certain parts, almost identical to him.

“So?” He asks once you pass the manuscript back to him, humming in thought.

“There’s definitely some obvious glaring flaws. But I don’t think you should discount their entire thought process.”

“But I asked for an essay that looked at the ethical issues concerning psychological research on humans. He stated that there weren’t any,” Jaemin says, now looking entirely confused.

You shrug. “But morality is subjective, isn’t it? Sure, there are common principles that people tend to follow, but what’s ethical in the eyes of a government may be different from the individual person. Is it alright to sacrifice a single person for the common good? Maybe not. But he can argue for it.”

Jaemin pauses then, his expression still frozen as he mulls over your words. Gradually, a grin makes its way onto his face, and you watch as he grabs the pen and scribbles on the manuscript before placing it on the stack that’s already done.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

“I’m sure you could do plenty. But two minds are better than one, I suppose,” you say, smiling back. Jaemin leans back in his chair, resting his head on his hands. Compared to his usual stiff posture, it’s much more relaxed, and you find your shoulders not tensing as much anymore.

“Out of curiosity, what made you start Psychology?” Jaemin asks, and his eyes are genuine when he looks at you. You’re not entirely sure how to reply, considering no one’s ever asked you the question. Not the university admission officers, not your parents, not even your friends.

Only Jaemin.

“I’ll tell you a story, But you have to promise not to laugh,” you warn, and Jaemin nods.

“I had a very bad argument with a man in a bookstore over a certain literary text. Quite stupid, I know. Seventeen-year-old me was quite hot-headed. Out of the blue, he started arguing that I was wrong because the brain volume of a man was larger than that of a woman.”

Jaemin knows what you made him promise, but the corners of his lips are tugged up anyways. You glare at him. “You promised not to laugh!” He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I swear, with full honesty, that you’re not the one I’m laughing at. It’s just an amusing story. So you took Psychology to prove him wrong?”

“Sort of. That was my motivation at first. But I think along the way, I just fell in love with the subject itself.” There’s a light in your eyes when you speak about it, and Jaemin can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re so passionate about what you do, and it reminds Jaemin of the starry-eyed first-year student that he was.

Along the way, he doubted whether he had even chosen the right thing to study. Had he been so caught up in chasing success that he lost his passion somewhere along the way?

But collaborating with you seems to light a new spark in Jaemin’s heart, where he finally has someone to share his ideas with. He’s never been able to learn so much from someone in so little time, and you’re capable. Even more than him, perhaps. Jaemin wonders if you know that.

“What about you, Jaemin?” Your question jolts him out of his thoughts, and Jaemin’s breath hitches. You take his slight hesitation for alarm, and wonder if you asked the wrong question. “If it’s too personal, you really don’t have to,” you blurt out in panic, eyes wide.

However, Jaemin shakes his head. “I don’t mind telling you at all. It’s just that it’s not as fun a story as yours. More sad, actually.” He looks rather forlorn, and you’re not sure how to reach out to him. Instead, you sit in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“My grandmother suffered from memory loss. It was very bad, but doctors refused to diagnose her. They tried sending her to an institution to be confined, but my parents decided to keep her at home instead. She passed away a few months later.” he mutters, and you realise that this must be something that he doesn’t tell many people, from the way the words come out stilted. Alzheimer’s had just been properly diagnosed for the first time less than five years ago, and the cases were often few and far in between.

You suppose this must have happened when he was much younger, when the number of experienced psychologists in the city was horrendously low. The fact that he’s willing to divulge this information to you tugs at your heartstrings, and Jaemin suddenly looks terribly alone from the way he’s hunched over at the desk.

Despite all the praise heaped on him and the many accolades, Jaemin’s still young, no older than you.

Suddenly, his motivation for choosing cognitive function as a research area makes so much sense. Jaemin wants to know how people have memories because he knows someone who lost them.

You’re not one in the way of comforting people, but you walk closer to Jaemin’s desk and grab his hands. It’s sudden, judging from the way Jaemin immediately looks up at you, but he doesn’t pull his hands away from yours. You think that’s a pretty good start.

“She would be proud of you if she knew what you were doing now. You’ll be able to help even more people with your research. And besides, we’re partners now. We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, and the dark clouds in Jaemin’s expression seem to clear up. There’s a shine to his eyes as he looks at you, and the atmosphere is strangely peaceful.

“Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot. More than you know.” His voice is level now, and you can tell that whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind have cleared up temporarily. You allow a grin to make its way onto your face.

“It’s getting rather late. If you want to thank me, let’s go out for dinner.”

Jaemin’s eyes immediately dart to the clock, and he stands up abruptly, moving towards the coat rack and passing you yours before shrugging one on.

“My treat, then,” he replies as he holds the door open for you.

“I haven’t seen the both of you in weeks. It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the earth,” Donghyuck mutters as he looks at you and Jaemin, a blank expression on his face. You smile sheepishly at him.

“Sorry. We’re really busy with the project. It’s in its final stages now,” you confess, and Donghyuck hums, nodding.

“Speaking of which, Donghyuck, I have something to ask.” Jaemin’s words spark your curiosity, but you continue flipping through the book that you have in your hands.

“How would you like to be one of our test subjects?”

You turn your head to look up sharply at him. Jaemin’s voice is sweet when he says it, and there’s obvious alarm in your eyes. Jaemin catches your gaze, but he doesn’t retract the offer. Instead, he just smiles, and you realise what he’s doing.

Donghyuck ponders over the offer, casting a glance at Jaemin suspiciously, who keeps his expression perfectly blank and innocent.

“Sure. It sounds fun,” Donghyuck replies, and Jaemin breaks out into the widest smile you’ve ever seen. You try not to burst out laughing, using your book to cover your mouth. Jaemin has a concealed sense of mischief that only seems to reveal itself at odd moments, most often in situations involving Donghyuck.

This will be fun, you think.

Two hours later, the test subject in mention is glaring at the both of you from where he sits, pen in hand and sheet in the other.

“You didn’t say I would have to memorise sixteen pages of notes. In the smallest possible font on the typewriter, no less,” Donghyuck states angrily, realising he’s been tricked by the both of you.

“What did you think cognitive function was?” You question, a bemused smile on your face as you hear Donghyuck groan before ruffling his hair in frustration.

“I thought it would be like an interview, you know? Where you get asked different questions and they analyze your answers,” he replies, and you hear a huff of a laugh from behind you. “This isn’t like the ridiculous questionnaires you tick off on the newspaper, Donghyuck,” Jaemin interjects, and Donghyuck eyes widen in offence.

“I will have you know, Na Jaemin, that those questionnaires are extremely accurate. And besides, how would I know? I’m not the Psychology professor here.”

“I’m not a professor either,” you remind him, and Donghyuck smiles slightly. “All three of us in this room know that you are perfectly capable of being one.” Jaemin makes a noise of assent, and your heart soars just a little at the praise.

“Either way, I’m done with your test,” Donghyuck says as he stands up, passing you his papers. You look them over quickly, realising that for all his antics, Donghyuck is actually a lot smarter than he seems.

“You did well,” you mumble absentmindedly, and Donghyuck smirks. “Thanks, I know. I’ll leave now,” he says before leaning close next to your ear. “And have fun with Jaemin,” he whispers almost conspiratorially, and before you can ask him what it means, Donghyuck’s out of the room.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice immediately snaps you back to attention, and you nod quickly. “Oh yes, of course.” Your neck feels awfully warm, and you rub at it, unsure why.

“We know you didn’t need an additional test subject. Did you just want to mess with Donghyuck?”

“Well, I suppose so. It was amusing to see his face when we gave him the list,” Jaemin confesses, and you chuckle under your breath. “On another note, I think we’re done with the first draft.” Your posture immediately stiffens at his words, and you rush over to Jaemin’s desk.

“Really?” You ask incredulously, even though you know Jaemin didn’t have any reason to die. He hands you the bundle of papers that is ten months of hard work and intense research, and you cradle it gently, almost like a baby. It feels oddly momentous, somehow. This is everything you’ve worked for and thought about in every waking moment since that fateful encounter with Jaemin, when the both of you first sealed the deal.

Each word is familiar to you, considering you’ve proofread it a million times, but seeing the research organized and printed out feels oddly surreal. That your work is now tangible. All of your dreams and aspirations are contained within this one little bundle, and it feels precious.

Jaemin looks at the quiet pride on your face as you look through, and he can’t contain his smile either. “I’m going to send it to the university for feedback on the draft, but it’s definitely on par with other competing projects. Once that’s done, it’ll be published,” Jaemin tells you, and you look up at him. There’s an undeniable sense of excitement that pervades you, and the idea of finally seeing it in official print provides a strange sort of thrill.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you say sincerely, and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N.” He’s painfully earnest when he says it, and your heart stumbles slightly as you look at Jaemin. His features seem even more delicate today, his eyes brighter than usual. You’re not sure if it's the heady rush of elation filling you from finishing the project, but you finally understand what Karina meant when she asked you if you found Jaemin attractive.

The thought that Karina might be right scares you, but it’s also exhilarating. You’ve seen Jaemin at his best and in his moments of vulnerability, and he’s been a wonderful partner. Someone who pushes your thoughts in new, unfamiliar directions, who doesn’t hesitate to question your opinions.

You suppose you have to give Karina credit for calling your bluff so early on. Still, now can’t possibly be the right time. The both of you still have some work left to do, and anything now would just be a distraction.

Your feelings will have to wait, but you don’t mind. After all, you enjoy your time with Jaemin now, even if it is occasionally punctuated by the fluttering of your pulse.

It takes three weeks for the panel to review the draft, and another week to give their feedback. The next time you’re in the university, it’s spring, and the smell of fresh flowers invades your senses the moment you step foot on the campus.

You’re poised to knock on the door that’s already half-ajar when you hear muffled conversation from inside. You decide to stay in the hallway, at least until Jaemin’s guest is done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my co-researcher, Mr Lee. I don’t think it’s a matter of want.” You immediately jerk up to pay attention, because that’s you Jaemin’s talking about. You know you’re eavesdropping, but you can’t help it. Jaemin’s voice is uncharacteristically harsh, but so is the Provost’s.

“You know that there will be a penalty on credit for not being a solo researcher. You’re already losing out. And to do it with a girl that has no qualifications, no less…Do you know what the panel will think?”

Mr Lee’s words cause the back of your throat to close up, even as you know they are true to some extent. You had been living in a joyful denial, ignoring the realities of the university’s expectations. Still, you stand outside the office, unable to move.

“Even then-”

“Jaemin. Do you want this scholarship or not? Surely she can’t have contributed that much. Just remove her name and negotiate it with her later.”

Your heart drops to your feet at the Provost’s words. Jaemin doesn’t respond, and for some reason, that feels even worse than Mr Lee stepping all over your hopes with a single sentence. You’re scared of hearing what he might have to say, and you don’t think you can bear hearing his agreement outright. It’s painfully silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling your ears.

You’re suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, almost as if you’re unwelcome here. Jaemin’s office is no longer familiar, instead making you feel worse and worse with each and every second you spend near it.

You need air.

There’s a few students you crash into along the way, some of which recognise you. They look at you bewildered, as you run past them towards the exit. Even then, you’re not quick enough to avoid the first tears falling. At least no one saw you, you suppose. You scoff slightly. Maybe they would use the tears as evidence of your fragile emotional state.

As much as you’re angry at the circumstances you’re in, you also feel like a fool. A fool for having pursued this project with Jaemin, for believing that for a moment, it would work out. For believing Jaemin, especially.

You had your head in the clouds, and now you were crashing back down to Earth in a rapid descent.

You’re not sure why you thought his acceptance would be enough, sufficient for you to reach your goals. It never had been. And judging from his lack of a response to the Provost, you’re about to lose that too.

You can’t even blame him, which you suppose is the worst part. For all you knew, you might have been deadweight this past year. Jaemin would be better off choosing to remove your name, and it would make his life much, much easier. It was a smart decision. You couldn’t possibly take that from him. After all, he deserved the success, the scholarship. You weren’t even a student. What did it matter, in the end?

Still, you’re not sure if you can ever look at Jaemin without being reminded of what you’ve lost. It’s not his fault, but he is a living, breathing reminder of everything you’re not, and every moment you have to live with it might just be a new type of hell. You’re not just going to lose a valuable partner, but a friend too. And perhaps, he might have been more. You don’t know, and you don’t think you want to wonder about the what ifs, because it might just break you even more.

You had promised yourself that if this didn’t work out, you would give up. Give up and do whatever your father wished for you to do. It’s painful, but you’re at the end of your rope. Pursuing another foolish daydream would just simply leave you even more empty. Even then, the bitter taste of defeat refuses to leave your mouth, even as you force your feet to take you towards the arched gates of the campus grounds.

Leaving the campus feels strange, especially since you’re not sure when you will be able to come back. The red brick walls, mulberry trees, stained glass windows - they’ve become as familiar to you as your own home.

So has the dark oak furnishings and lush carpets of Jaemin’s office, but you’ll have to forget about that now.

Jaemin waits for you that entire afternoon.

You’ve never been late, only early or punctual. He checks his schedule twice, just to make sure he’s gotten the correct day. He runs down to his mailbox twice and asks the office, just to see if you left a note for him.

Nothing. It’s like you’ve disappeared, though Jaemin knows that’s not possible. Something must have come up. But even then, as he thinks of all the possibilities, it only makes him more anxious. He quickly scribbles a quick letter and seals it with wax, and he feels a little calmer once he has your address written down and the letter mailed.

I’m sure everything’s fine. She’s likely busy, he tells himself.

He gives it two weeks and six missed lectures before he starts panicking. He’s not a particularly antsy person, or someone who overthinks. At least, that’s what he likes to think of himself, and what most people believe of him. He’s calm and reserved. Jaemin can’t help but worry a bit more when it comes to you, however.

He doesn’t give himself time to regret an impulsive decision, as he hails a cab to bring him to your address. It’s only when he’s standing on the porch, finger on the doorbell, that he hesitates slightly. What if, for whatever reason, you don’t wish to see him?

“Jaemin?”

The sudden appearance of a voice behind him causes Jaemin to jump, but the sound is gentle and familiar. He turns around to see you in a robin-blue sundress, a book in hand. Jaemin’s relief is palpable on his face as he sees you, and he immediately descends the steps, closing the distance between the both of you. However, you retract from him, as if stung, and Jaemin is at a loss.

“Y/N. I didn’t see you for the past two weeks, and I got worried. Forgive me for showing up so suddenly.”

The hesitancy on your face has shifted to an uncomfortable apprehension directed at Jaemin. “I suppose we couldn’t avoid this conversation forever. I’d prefer another place, however,” and you turn, walking away, seemingly for Jaemin to follow you.

There’s a feeling of fear that clings to Jaemin, however, at your words. You’re uncharacteristically cold, tone and expression void of your usual exuberance. Whatever you have to say to Jaemin has to be important. He just hopes it isn’t bad news.

Even then, his mind goes into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible options. Maybe you’re leaving the country. Maybe you’re sick. He doesn’t like any of those options.

Jaemin’s jerked out of his thoughts when you gesture for him to take a seat. The both of you are in a garden, assumedly your family’s. The gazebo provides a welcome respite from the midday sun, and Jaemin watches as you sit opposite him.

The distance feels too far, somehow.

“If you have anything on your mind, Y/N, you can tell me. We’re friends. You know that,” Jaemin assures as he meets your gaze. However, you quickly tear your eyes away from him, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Jaemin can tell you’re nervous, but he’s not sure why. The book is forgotten, placed on the corner of your chair.

“I don’t want to study Psychology anymore,” you mutter, and Jaemin has to wonder if he’s heard you right.

You’re someone even more passionate about the subject than Jaemin is. How-

“I’m just not interested. Not enough to pursue it further,” you say candidly, and Jaemin’s head is spinning, attempting to wrap his head around the reality of the situation. It takes a few minutes for him to collect his thoughts, and the next time he looks at you, his eyes are piercing, uncomfortably so.

“You’re lying. I know you, Y/N,” he replies, and the way you tap your foot on the ground confirms Jaemin’s doubts. He’s familiar with the habit- did you forget you told him that was the way people caught your untruths?

“No, I’m not. How dare you-”

“For God’s sake, Y/N, the book you’re holding is a manual by Carl Jung.” Your eyes quickly dart to the book, cheeks burning with shame. Even then, Jaemin’s tone isn’t accusatory, just truthful.

“If this is because of the university-”

“I heard your conversation with the Provost, Jaemin. Every single part of it,” you confess, your voice getting increasingly shaky as you lose your grip on your composure.

“You’re my co-researcher, Y/N, I told him that,” Jaemin continues, and you wipe a hand across your face absentmindedly.

“I don’t want to be a burden to your career, Jaemin. We both know you deserve the funding. Just remove my name,” you breathe out, and Jaemin immediately shakes his head. He finally realises why you’ve disappeared these two weeks.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice is insistent, and even though your eyes are still tear-stained, you listen to him.

“Do you know what I told Mr Lee?” You shake your head.

“I told him that you were indispensable to my research. That none of it would have been done without you, and I would rather abandon the entire thing than not credit you,” Jaemin says, and you exhale sharply. “I told him that you were smarter than some of my best students, that it was the university’s loss for not letting you in.”

You don’t dare to believe what Jaemin’s saying, especially after each moment of the past two weeks. Your eyes inspect his face for a hint of dishonesty. And yet, Jaemin’s expression remains completely honest, his eyes calm and trusting as they look at you. It makes you want to place your faith in him, that maybe this will be enough.

“And what-what did Mr Lee say?” You’re trembling and nervous, but it feels good, almost.

A knowing smile makes it’s way onto Jaemin’s face, and his eyes fill with something else. Fondness, you realise. And barely-concealed excitement. “He said he would review your application again, and allow me to endorse it with the admissions department.”

You realise Jaemin is talking about your application to become a student, and you’re filled with pure, unfiltered joy as you look at him and realise that what he’s saying is true. That after four years of doubt and confusion, it just might be possible.

Jaemin seems to sense the thoughts running through your mind, and his smile only gets brighter.

“So, will you come back to the office now? The edits aren’t going to revise themselves, and I need a better brain to help me with them.”

You immediately let out a small laugh. “I feel a little foolish now,” you confess. “It seems like a lot of it was overthinking.”

Jaemin’s eyes soften imperceptibly. “It wasn’t foolish at all, Y/N.” Jaemin’s presence is comforting, you realise, and the lack of his companionship has been made all the more obvious by your deliberate distancing.

Having him here, with everything worked out, makes it feel as if your life is no longer off-kilter.

When you burst into Jaemin’s office two weeks later, you’re smiling from ear to ear. He looks up at your abrupt arrival, immediately standing up when you stride over to his desk, acceptance letter in hand. “I’m a student starting next week,” you exclaim excitedly, and Jaemin has never seen you this cheerful before.

Truthfully, the admissions board had already informed him that you would be accepted- after all, he was one of the people that had to review your application. Even then, Jaemin tries to look surprised, a cheerful expression on his face. It isn’t difficult, considering how contagious your joy is.

“I have to go off now, but I just- really wanted to share it with you. For being the one to make it happen,” you say softly.

“You did this by yourself, Y/N. I helped because you deserved it.” Jaemin watches as you take in his words, as your smile softens into something more gentle, more tranquil. It’s an expression that he rarely sees on you, and it feels precious.

When you turn to leave, Jaemin’s filled with a strange emotion. It’s almost like a sense of longing as he watches you disappear out the door. Even though he’s sure that the both of you are now close friends, and he’ll see you on campus regularly, the fact that the both of you will no longer have your weekly meetings feels disappointing, somehow.

The feeling lingers with him even at dinner, until even Donghyuck notices. “You’ve been down all day. What’s on your mind?” Renjun looks up from his food expectantly, and Jaemin runs a hand through his hair. It’s made even more suspicious by the way he is unable to muster an appetite. Both Renjun and Donghyuck had cast him suspicious glances when he had only ordered a bowl of soup.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?”

“You know he’s in the military. Don’t try to change the topic,” Renjun points out, and Jaemin sighs.

“It’s just that the research project with Y/N is over, and-”

“You want to continue seeing her, but you’re not sure how? You feel strange without having her presence around you?” Donghyuck says, and Jaemin blinks at him. Once. Twice. Donghyuck’s right on the spot. Uncomfortably so.

“Well, yes. I guess so,” Jaemin mutters, and Renjun conceals his laugh with a sip of his drink. “See, Renjun. I told you. I’m always right,” Donghyuck says snarkily, and Renjun rolls his eyes. “Want me to remind you of what happened at the party last week?”

“What happened last week?” Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck shakes his head vehemently. “Nothing. Anyways, this is about you. How do you feel about Y/N, Jaemin?” Jaemin doesn’t like the way Donghyuck’s looking at him, as if he knows something he doesn’t.

“I can’t place my finger on it, but something like admiration? She’s capable, more so than me. Intelligent, but she’s able to make the other students laugh easily with her comments. Detailed, especially when she’s checking things,” he immediately responds without a second thought, and Renjun looks at him properly now, mirth in his eyes. “You and Donghyuck are much more similar than I expected.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Renjun is just being annoying. What he’s saying is that you like her.”

“I like Y/N plenty. She’s a good colleague. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be working together for over a year.” Donghyuck makes a noise of disbelief at Jaemin’s words, and casts an incredulous glance at Renjun, who simply shrugs. “Don’t make that face at me, Donghyuck. You’re even worse. You made her cry, remember?”

Donghyuck falls silent at that, miffed. Jaemin turns to Renjun for clarification, and the boy looks exasperated, almost as if he’s not sure why he’s the one has to manage the both of them.

“I’m not sure if you’ve realised, Jaemin, but you’ve changed a little the past year. You’ve stopped locking yourself in the office as much, and you seem happier. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seems like it’s because of Y/N. And for you to have these sorts of emotions…I don’t think it’s just friendship you’re looking for,” Renjun clarifies.

Donghyuck mutters a ‘finally’ under his breath, but Jaemin barely catches it, stuck in his own thoughts. He thinks about each time you’ve dragged him out to meet the others, until he started doing it of his own volition. About how Renjun, Jeno and Haechan showed up at his office more often, and he no longer wanted to chase them out.

And then he thinks about what Renjun’s implying. That he might have feelings for you, feelings that extend beyond friendship. He finds himself not scared off by the thought, but instead, it fills him with an unfamiliar sort of hope.

The thought of a relationship was an alien concept to him. If it had been mentioned to him a year ago, he would have shrugged it off in moments. Of course, he had people express their interest, sometimes not so subtly. He was decently attractive, after all, and had a good family. But a relationship had never been in the cards for him.

However, you made him want to imagine the possibilities. That when it came to you, he wouldn’t mind being something more, beyond just colleagues and friends. Partners, in every sense of the word. It explains the strange nervousness that overtakes him each time you look at him, or ask him a question. It explains the peace that flooded him that night in the office, when he divulged secrets he had never been willing to tell anyone, all because he trusted you inexplicably.

“I wonder how you’re even a Psychology professor, when you can’t even recognize your feelings from a mile away,” Donghyuck teases, and Jaemin allows a small smile to make its way on his face.

He knows now, and that’s all that matters. The only thing left is to figure out what to do with the weight of his newfound realization, and Jaemin hopes you won’t muddle his mind even more than you already have.

There’s a frenetic energy in the lecture hall this morning, one that you can’t help but get caught up in as well. Jaemin seems to be pacing around more than usual, his words coming out at a faster pace as he scribbles on the chalkboard and everyone tries to catch up. It’s definitely not something serious enough to warrant concern, but you wonder if there’s something on his mind the past week.

His schedule has been full with meetings held by the department, and yours with the coursework required of a university student, especially since you started slightly later in the semester. It’s left you to only be able to see him during lectures, often a friendly smile as you come in and take your seat before he begins teaching.

Distracted, you press your pen nib down a little too hard, a feeling of dread coming a little too late once you hear the sound of it snapping. Ink blots out over your paper, and you curse under your breath, frantically scooping the rest of the papers away. Ruined notes aside, you won’t be able to remember the rest of the lecture in detail later. You’re worrying your lip, when a hand extends in your vision.

“Here. I have an additional one for emergencies,” the voice next to you is low enough to not be heard by the rest of the students, and you turn your head to see a man who looks slightly younger than you, round glasses perched on his face. “Thank you,” you whisper back, fingers brushing over the smooth black lacquer. It’s a much better pen than whatever you’re using, and you suppose you should consider investing in better stationery.

“The name’s Hendery, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” His tone of voice is surprisingly casual, and it takes a while for the name to land. Hendery. You recall that he’s the student Jaemin mentioned, the one who submitted a lacklustre essay that was out-of-the-norm. He’s one of Jaemin’s favourite students, and you suppose you can understand why. His notes are in a neat script, books arranged neatly and his suit perfectly ironed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply, and he grins affably, just enough to catch you off-guard. Most of the male students here choose to ignore you, or have awkward grimaces when you nod your head in greeting. It’s rather refreshing.

“Professor Na showed us one of your essays once in class. I’ve never gotten the chance to tell you how much I enjoyed it, and I referenced it in one of my assignments. You can have the pen. I wanted to return the favor,” he adds, and you pause for a while, before smiling back at him and returning to your notes.

“Hendery. What was the main research method of Structuralism?” Jaemin’s voice rings out suddenly, and you dart your head down, attempting to look occupied. It’s not the most honourable thing to do, but you rather not be on the receiving end of failing to answer Jaemin’s questions.

“Experimental studies, Professor?”

“Introspection. That’s what differs it from other schools of thought. Do take better focus next time.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

You feel bad for Hendery. The boy only wanted to extend a helping hand. Still, you know he’s in Jaemin’s good books, and from the way he waves to you, smiling, as he leaves the lecture hall, allows your shoulders to sink in relief.

You’ve made a new friend of sorts. It feels nice, even though you’re used to remaining alone while on campus. Today, however, your schedule is noticeably free, both Ningning and Karina out of the country for business trips. This leaves you to rush down the staircase, attempting to chase after Jaemin before he gets swept up by another meeting.

You call out his name, and the man in question turns around sharply, causing you to skid to a stop and narrowly avoid crashing into him. “Whoa, careful there,” he mutters, and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Did you need me for something?” There’s an unreadable expression on Jaemin’s face. One that you can’t exactly decipher, and you respond with a shaky grin. “No. I just wanted to see you.” The words escape too fast for you to process their weight, leaving your cheeks to redden slightly.

It’s oddly honest, and from his sharp inhale, you’re not sure if you’ve been too forward, despite the nature of your relationship.

“How has work been?”

“Good. Busy,” his voice is terse, reminiscent of the tone that he uses with students, and it causes you to frown slightly. “Will you be going to Haechan’s party this weekend?” Infuriatingly, Jaemin only shakes his head, and you’re left trailing after his footsteps, wondering if you’ve done something wrong.

The walk to his office feels shorter than you remember, and you wonder if it’s because you haven’t been here in too long. The man in front of you still remains frustratingly silent, causing your thoughts to swirl in worry.

“Jaemin. We’re still partners. Talk to me,” you bite out, and he looks up at you, wide eyes no different from that of a deer caught in headlights. He nibbles nervously at his lip, and your eyes inevitably drift down at the motion, before you step closer to him.

“Look, if I did something wrong-”

“You did nothing, Y/N. Believe me when I say that,” his voice is audible, even as it cuts you off abruptly. It’s the longest sentence you’ve heard from Jaemin all day, and you try not to let out a sigh. “Then what is it?”

You’re genuinely worried now, eyes never leaving Jaemin’s figure as he paces across the room, fiddling with his fingers slightly. There’s a strange look in his gaze as he refocuses on you, something like a mix of longing and hesitation. It makes your breath catch in your throat, and you’re unable to move from where you’re standing. The both of you are standing directly opposite each other now, and you would laugh if it wasn’t for the situation itself, considering how it’s almost identical to your first meeting with Jaemin.

“I would like to think that I’m a clear-headed person, Y/N, but I think I may be going a little mad.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the strangeness of Jaemin’s words, unable to decipher their meaning.

“I felt…jealous. When I saw you with Hendery. I know very well it’s ridiculous. But it seems the green-eyed monster doesn’t seem to pick targets.”

You’re bewildered at this point, understanding Jaemin’s words well enough and yet unable to grasp any coherent meaning to them. You’re not sure if you can believe what you’re hearing. If you’re hearing it right, or tunnel vision is causing you to interpret Jaemin’s words in an entirely different light.

“You were jealous of…?” Your voice trails off into silence, a question dripping with anticipation as you look at Jaemin, the room heavy with tension. You think your hands might be shaking, but you can’t be bothered to check.

“Jealous of him. I know you’re your own person, and you’re entirely free to be with and love who you want. But seeing you smile at him makes my heart seize in this terrible way like some sort of lovesick fool, and I’m not sure if I can go on like this without telling you.”

There’s a stricken expression on your face at Jaemin’s barely coherent confession, and he runs a hand roughly through his hair, truly panicking now.

“What I’m saying, Y/N, is that I think I may be in love with you. No. I know it. And it makes me a nervous wreck around you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

Jaemin barely gets the words out before you’re crossing the distance in two quick strides and standing right in front of him. It makes his breath hitch and his heart palpitate wildly, even as you lean imperceptibly closer. The way your simple actions affect him is barely understandable to Jaemin, and he’s not sure if there’s anything in his knowledge to explain it.

Yet, Renjun had put it forth so simply for him, as if the answer was plain as day.

Love. It was love that made Jaemin miss your presence, that made him think of you daily and cause a lump to form in his throat at seeing you and Hendery. It was love that made Jaemin want to hold on tightly and never let go, to follow you to parties and wherever else you asked him to.

“Are you…about to reject me?” He asks nervously, and you feel your gaze soften as you look at Jaemin. Your colleague, your equal match, your friend, your partner. In everything.

And that’s how Jaemin receives his answer. It’s you grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards your height before planting your lips on his firmly, hands eventually winding around his neck. It’s a few seconds before he seems to realize it, but when he does, Jaemin’s quick to return the favour, holding your waist securely to close the distance between the both of you as much as he can.

The way Jaemin moves his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, but craving for more. He’s passionate, so different from the usual, calm side that he presents. Even then, the way he holds you to him is gentle, as if you’re made of precious glass.

Jaemin kisses you like he’s been waiting to do so forever, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, even as you finally pull away for some much-needed air. You feel faint when he leans his forehead against yours, noses bumping slightly and causing you to let out a soft chuckle. From this close, you can smell his cologne, a clean scent that reminds you of clean laundry and spun cotton.

You blink slowly before opening your eyes, and it causes him to smile, doe-brown eyes crinkling faintly.

“I suppose that was a yes?” He asks, tone successfully returned to playful, and you pull back to look at him incredulously.  “Of course it was a yes. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A person who has my heart in the palm of her hand. It’s a dangerous position to be in.” The straightforward confession sends blood rushing up your cheeks, forcing you to look down, away from his piercing gaze.

“Jaemin. I-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what you want to say to the man before you. You’re not sure what you would do without Jaemin, but you do know there’s a lot more that you wish to do with him. “Love wasn’t in the cards for me at all. You and I both know that. But I’m glad that I have this. That I have you.”

There’s a look of quiet happiness on Jaemin’s face when he tilts your chin up to look at him, a gentle slant of his lips that lights up his features. He doesn’t need to say anything more, not when there’s so much that has passed between the both of you.

Jaemin’s scared, of course. That one day your memories or his might bleed out like quicksand, leaving the both of you strangers. But if he doesn’t take the chance, he’ll never be able to recall the feeling of having you by his side, and the idea of that is much more terrifying.

He will love you more than he will remember you, and it will be enough.

insomnia | city lights series | h.js

The last bit of sanity in your mind vanished the moment before you asked your hot neighbour to be your fuck buddy. Whatever prompted you to muster the courage to get the words out was something you didn't know you had inside you. But he wasn't saying no.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x afab!reader ✮ genre: smut mdni you'll get blocked ✮ word count: 11.8k ✮ aus: rocksinger!joshua (not famous), neighbours with benefits

₊🎧: insomnia - shinee | closer - jihyo ₊ tagging: @aaniag @dkluvrsclub @zezedoesshit @cottoncheol @mindofthescattered @ac1dhao @lovelyhyuka14 @lilsafsafbooyah @agustjin ty for your comments, tags and rbs!! ty lovelies love y'all. tell me if you'd like to be in my forever tag list!! ♡︎ヾ(•ω•`)o ♡ ₊ nsfw warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: smut with plot, softdom!joshua, bigdick!joshua, somewhat inexperienced reader, sex talks, a bit of corruption kink (it'll get worse i promise), instalove(ish), pet names: sweetheart, pretty, baby, princess (hers). a bit of size kink, wet dreams, dirty talk, foul language, making out, oral sex (f), protected sex, squirting, multiple orgasms (f)

part i

A soft thud startled you. What followed then were muffled sounds of a woman crying out and moaning continuously, bed creaking loudly and pushing rhythmically, and then frantically against your bedroom wall.

You groaned.

Lying on your mountains of pillows and squishmallows, you covered your face with your duvet as the moans continued, crying out and being muffled by the walls, but you could still hear them.

It's the second night you hear your neighbours have really loud sex. The first time you didn't mind, since you were deep in a writing session and you have pretty good headphones that cancelled the sounds of your neighbour fucking someone into the walls.

But now there was no way to avoid hearing them.

Given that you'd presented the first rough draft of your manuscript early, you had time to relax for a bit. To the exception that you've pushed yourself so hard lately that your sleep schedule was deeply fucked up and now your body was wide awake during the middle of the night.

You jumped out of your bed and grabbed your coat, scurrying away from the sounds of your neighbours going at it.

You felt somewhat disturbed, but not in the way that anyone would if they hear their neighbours having sex. You felt rattled, as if your neighbours having a good time and not you was the actual problem and not that they were too noisy in the middle of the night.

The only way to the rooftops was through the emergency stairs, so when you got there, you were panting silently. The midnight air cooled you off and brushed your hair gently when you stepped out to the rooftop.

Beyond the door, a wide concrete square stretched off into the distance. Your typical route took you east, where the lookout point offered an impressive view of the city skyline.

The perimeter of the rooftop was lined with a brick mid wall that stood up to chest height, providing a protective barrier along the edges.

You were convinced that you were the only one visiting this place. Since it was vacated every time you came here to wind down and take fresh air away from your computer.

The night was so still that it offered you some solace, it made your imagination run. You loved this piece of tranquillity, the times when you came here in the dead of the night to presence the stillness of the city.

During sleepless nights, you found solace in this place, waiting for the dawn. As the city slowly awoke, you reflected on the ordinary lives of the people, contemplating their daily routines. It gave you some incentive to keep working on your manuscript.

You let an hour pass. It seemed reasonable to you. Drawing from your own lived experiences, an hour was too long but you decided to give your neighbours the benefit of the doubt.

When you returned to your apartment, it was quiet enough to force yourself to sleep. But instead, the hours went by and you stared at the ceiling for while, lying in your bed.

It usually happened this way; whenever you felt like sleep was drawing near, something would snap in your brain and kept you awake until you'd blackout.

Wide awake, you were overcome with a curiosity that led you to wonder about your next-door neighbours. Although you had a vague idea of who lived there, the occasional sounds intrigued you. Sometimes a guy's loud singing would drift through the walls, or you'd hear the casual strumming of a guitar in the middle of the afternoon.

And also, the obvious loud moans of a woman in the middle of the night.

You have never had the chance to meet them, and you were pretty sure that you didn't want to now that you've heard them fuck twice.

It was 7AM the last time you remember looking at the clock before finally falling asleep.

The curtains of your bedroom blocked out the light from outside completely and there wasn't any strange or loud noises that could possibly interrupt your long awaited sleep.

Until you heard someone strumming an electric guitar quite loudly on speakers. The sound came from the next door neighbour, the same you heard last night having really loud sex.

The same chords were strung over and over again, as if rehearsing a tune.

"Oh my god," you muttered under your breath.

Throwing the bed covers away, you jumped out of bed again. A deep feeling of rage boiling inside you when without thinking, you marched outside the hall of your apartment and knocked on the door of your immediate neighbour; loud enough for them to hear it over the guitar speakers.

What followed then was the sound of speakers dying abruptly, a shuffle of steps of someone coming towards the door. A tall man opened it, and you met his face. Big brown eyes looked down at you, while raising one perfect eyebrow.

The rage inside you smouldered down at the sight. You weren't counting on your neighbour being... well, being hot as fuck.

His hair was dark, with a few stray strands gently touching his eyebrows, you noticed the ring adorning one of these. Big eyes were dark and curious, like those of a doe, scanning you up and down. The ghost of a smile adorned his pinkish red lips, hiding his teeth.

"He-hello," you mumbled awkwardly. "I'm your neighbour from 317."

Why wouldn't you just say you were from next door, you didn't know. Probably you were so sleep deprived that you didn't know how to act human anymore.

Your neighbour showed you a kind smile. "Hi. I'm Joshua," he rose a hand and waved friendly. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah," you said, but after two seconds added: "can you keep it down, please? I'm trying to sleep."

"Uh, sure. Sorry about that, I was just testing equipment," he said while smiling politely.

You quickly glanced at his strong arms as he crossed them over his chest and leaned against the door frame. You realized he was using his body's motion to check you out too.

The anger inside you dissipated quite quickly and that was good enough of a reason to be angry again. It felt like your brain was short circuiting, struggling to control emotions properly.

"Maybe you could play at a more reasonable hour. Not this early in the morning," you blurted out before you could make sense of your own words.

He chuckled. It wasn't mocking you at all, it was as if he enjoyed being chastised.

"It's 12 PM," he informed while coughing to mask his chuckle.

12 PM? You felt your shoulders slump down a little. You were making a fool of yourself, not only that, you probably looked crazy. Sleep deprived, irritated, standing in your hot neighbour's doorstep wearing bunny pyjamas.

And then, your mouth lost all filter.

"Well, I lost track of time since you couldn't keep it down last night," you accused.

The pierced eyebrow arched up. "Last night?"

"Yes! You were really loud last night!" you felt your cheeks blush.

"Me?" his brow furrowed. And for a minute, you thought he was trying to play dumb.

"Yes! And it's been two weekends in a row now!"

His mouth parted in bewilderment. "Oh, no," he chuckled awkwardly. "I'm afraid that wasn't me."

The heat from your cheeks was so prominent now you swore that it would show on your face and neck.

"Maybe your girlfriend's been cheating on you cause I heard them having really really loud sex!"

His lower lip was still hanging a little, his brow deeply furrowed but he composed himself quickly to say: "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, whatever! Just try to be more prudent of your neighbours!" you hushed and then stomped off before you could embarrass yourself any further.

"Prudent," you heard him snort. "Kay. I'll keep it in mind! Nice meeting you!"

As soon as you closed your apartment door you let out a long frustrated groan.

You made your way back to your bed. Slumping down on your pillows and squishmallows to let out yet again another groan.

But your neighbour didn't use his guitar again.

Suffering from chronic insomnia could vary depending on the person experiencing it.

The first time you remember having insomniac nights was when you were in university, pulling all-nighters had affected your sleeping habits and in the aftermath, you'd find yourself waking up in the middle of the night feeling just as energetic to go for a run.

So you've tried a variety of options to counterattack the insomnia. Ranging from sleeping pills, calming teas, meditating, to some more questionable ones.

The one option that you resorted to sometimes when you were feeling up to it, you'd go to the gym. It wasn't as expensive, or addictive and it had good results on your overall wellbeing.

You closed your apartment door, the noise from it echoing along the long dust-smelly hall. As you walked to the elevator, you checked if you brought everything you needed with you, keys, id card, phone, earphones; the latter you already had them on you.

The doors parted and you stepped inside, a shadow followed you closely behind. You turned to see who it was, only to turn back around to face the reflecting doors of the elevator.

From the brief glimpse you caught of him, your attractive neighbour was leaning back against the mirrored elevator wall. He had swapped his earlier attire of washed-up jeans, a black t-shirt, and a denim jacket. He was carrying a large guitar case over one shoulder.

Pretending to be oblivious to his presence, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Sneaking another glance through the mirrored elevator doors, you caught him looking at you briefly, his eyes taking in your entire frame. In the reflection, your eyes met his, and you sensed the corners of his lips rising in a small, knowing smile.

The blood on your cheeks seemed too burn. You bit your lip as you pretended to busy yourself on your phone, changing songs on your playlist frantically until the elevator stopped and you stepped out, rushing to the doors of the building.

The workout session that night was interesting, to say the least. As you were working on the mat, trying to strengthen your abdomen as best as you possibly could, your mind would wander elsewhere, inevitably falling on the thought of your hot neighbour.

You'd think on the way he looked leaning against the elevator wall, the very poise of him was unsettling. And something made you think that he probably knew the effect his looks had on people. Looks and attitude.

Involuntarily, you scoffed quite loudly in the middle of the gym. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Luckily no one seemed to notice you, but you felt embarrassed either way as you continued working out.

That night you had a sound sleep, much thanks to the exercise. It was all going al right until your dream turned into a really unusual one.

Because, you were in your bed, panting, squirming in your bedsheets. Then when you looked down, there was someone with you in the covers, you could see a shapeless someone on top of you under the sheets.

In your dream, you half knew what needed to happen next, as if you were a mere witness of your own wet dream. Your hands grabbed at the covers of the bed at the same time you experienced an orgasm, tensing your body in low whimpers and skin sizzling.

Slowly pulling your covers back you found a man of raven black hair slotted between your thighs, still ravaging your core with his mouth. Intuitively you knew who it was, but couldn't see his face, only the single silver ring adorning his eyebrow.

You woke up abruptly after that, feeling a tingling a rush of warmth in the apex of your thighs. Did you just...? Your hand snapped underneath your panties, fingers digging between your pussy lips to find out that you were pooling, your aching core pulsating in need for more attention.

A groan came out from your mouth. Feeling helpless, you went in and grabbed the drawer from your nightstand to get your vibrator, even though you knew that what you needed was something more than that.

Your thoughts couldn't go pass the fact that you just had a wet dream, one that included your neighbour who you barely knew. You tried to reason with yourself that you're just lonely, he is hot as fuck and been quite literally hammering loud sex into your bedroom wall for two weekends in a row.

Yeah, that sounds reasonable.

The jarring sound coming from the boiling kettle startled you.

You jolted and stood from your couch to turn off the stove. The steam when you poured the boiling water on your travel tea tumbler caressed your face, and you let the smell of peppermint tea leaves in inhaling a big breath.

It had been over a week since you got your manuscript back with all the comments from your editor, letting you know succinctly that now you had a lot of work to do.

But there was a suggestion from your editor and the publishing team in general that left you perplexed for what followed for the rest of the week.

Between all the things that needed fixing in terms of narrative and structure of your manuscript, your team suggested to maybe include some mature sex scenes. You knew from the moment you signed in for this novel that there was a possibility to write in some erotic scenes but it was never settled. And you thought you might have gotten away with it.

But your literary agent and newfound best friend, Yena, told you that it was almost inevitable. Your romance novels have been fine without sex scenes so far, but now that you had signed up for a lengthier fantasy trilogy including vampires, you just had to be more serious about it.

"You can't have sexy vampires without the sex part," Yena told you over the phone.

"Yes I can," you countered, feeling a bit stand offish.

"Your book is already rated for adults with all the violence it has. There is nothing bad with adding a few scenes of your main character getting dicked down."

You sighed and looked up to the ceiling, as if you'd might find some escape there. "You're sounding really ridiculous right now, Yen."

Yena laughed. "I know. This is me trying to convince you. Trust me, this will be great for sales."

"I don't care about sales," you lied a bit. You cared, but it wasn't at the top of your priority list.

"Well, I care. Will you do it for me?" you couldn't see her but you could imagine her big puppy eyes beaming at you.

"I'll work on it. But I can't make any promises."

"Nuh-uh," she tutted. "You pushed so hard to distance yourself from your teenage love romance novels. So now you commit."

"Pffft," you chuckled. "You got it."

"Hey, but take it easy," she suggested. "You're still behind the deadline."

You knew that. But there was an eagerness inside you to get this out in the world. You had been lucky to be picked up for your 'teenage love romance novels', but deep down you always wanted to write something into the fantasy-romance, or romansy, genre.

But now with the evident push in erotica lately, you also knew that this was going to be asked in your books. It was an option at the beginning, but you decided to play dumb about it.

However you couldn't play dumb any further.

So, you hid in the best place you knew. The rooftop was busy with the noise of the big city. Lights from the endless maze of tall buildings shut on and off sporadically. You could see the traffic lights change every few seconds, and cars honking every now and then.

You brought your tumbler with you to sip peppermint tea as the noise from the busy night swarmed your senses, you closed your eyes, taking the night in.

It would be nice to bring a chair.

Before you could react promptly, you picked up some faint noises from behind you, a shuffling of steps and suddenly, you opened your eyes to see your neighbour standing next to you.

"Oh my god," your hand flew to your jolting chest. "You fucking scared me."

He was looking up the sky, a calm expression on his face. When he heard you cuss he turned his smiling gaze to you. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, still a bit breathless.

Joshua shrugged, his hands were deep in his pockets. "I wanted to see where you'd go every time you take the stairs."

You eyed his dark frame up and down. Dressed in all black, black converse, jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. He looked like he was attending a rock concert.

He noticed you eyeing him up, so you quickly had to put in: "You've seen me come here?"

"I only hear you. In the middle of the night, in the morning. You know, from someone who yelled at me for being 'loud', you do slam doors pretty loudly."

Your cheeks burned. "I didn't yell at you," you mumbled. "And you were the one who was really loud."

"It was nearly noon when I was playing," he smiled down at you.

"What about the nights you were loud too?"

"I told you," he pointed. "It wasn't me."

"I heard your girlfriend too," your brow furrowed. "Don't try to tell me that what I heard were two ghosts fucking."

The sound of your neighbor's laughter triggered a response within you. It seemed to intensify the warmth in your cheeks, yet the tightening sensation in your stomach was far more distracting.

"I don't have a girlfriend, 317," he crooned with his sweet voice.

"Well, I heard a woman," you insisted, trying to ignore that he called you by your apartment number. Three-one-seven. Anything could sound pretty coming from his mouth.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I might have a roommate?" he asked, putting his arms up the border of the rooftop.

"Oh," you bit the inside of your cheek.

"Mmm-huh," he nodded his head once. "I suppose that your room is next to his and the woman you heard is his girlfriend."

"Crap," you muttered under a breath and you shut your eyes. "I am so so sorry."

"It's okay" he smiled politely and ran one of his large hands through his dark hair. "They can be quite loud, though."

"Right?" you murmured. "I'm still sorry you had to see me in such disarray, though."

"Disarray," he chuckled. "Why were you in disarray?"

He emphasized the word in a goofy tone, making you smile a little but you quickly rolled your eyes.

"Sometimes I get insomnia. Most nights actually," you told him simply. "And I'm quite protective of the few hours I do get to sleep."

"Protective is an understatement," he muttered. "More like feisty."

A laugh erupted from your belly. The sound made him look at you again with his smiling eyes.

"She can laugh," he said feigning surprise.

"She is not usually as feisty as you got to see a week ago," you countered. "You just had the misfortune of meeting me in a bad night."

"It wasn't even night time," he chuckled.

"Whatever," you quipped with a childlike tone and his smile grew broader.

The tea was cold when you lifted it to your lips. You poured more into the little pink cup in your tumbler, the steam lifting the city lights.

"So what brings a pretty girl like you here every night? Besides the insomnia" he asked, looking up to the building lights.

You looked at your neighbour. The sound of him calling you pretty shouldn't have the effect it had on you. Your mouth went dry and you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

"I uh... come here for inspiration," you muttered shyly.

You knew you had zero reasons to trust him but damn, you were lonely.

His eyebrow arched slightly. "Inspiration," he repeated slowly.

"I'm a writer," you mumbled shyly, diverting your gaze from your hot neighbour.

"Oh, I see. Makes sense," he replied shortly.

"Why?"

"You say big boring words," he smirked.

"Big boring words," you blinked. "No I don't. That doesn't say I'm a writer anyway."

"It says that you're just boring, then," he teased.

"I'm not," you whined. "You're a tease."

He laughed, he was enjoying this. "I might be. But at least I don't say disarray, or what was it? Prudent."

"I like big boring words," you grumbled with a pout.

A soft sigh came from your neighbour, he had a small smile on his face.

You drank your cup of tea while it was still hot and poured a little more.

"Am I interrupting your moment of inspiration, then?" he wondered.

"No. I'm actually procrastinating," you sighed. "I have to fix some subplots of my manuscript. I don't even know what to write yet so I came here to escape from it for a bit until I figure it out."

He arched one eyebrow again, his lip popping outwards and nodded. "I'm going to pretend I understood what you just said."

Fuck. He was also cute. The sharp pain in your stomach returned. It irritated you a little that he wasn't actually doing anything and you still thought he was cute. Or hot.

"I... was asked to add sex scenes to my novel," you rolled your eyes again, cringing from embarrassment.

His eyes read your face for a brief moment and you resisted the urge to hide away. You found it a bit amusing that your neighbour didn't seem to shy away from the abrupt shift in the conversation topic at all.

"And... you don't want to?" he mused, his brows almost touching together.

"I don't–well I do want to," you muttered, feeling defeated.

Your neighbour tuned his back to the border of the rooftop and propped his elbows up at his sides.

"I'm confused," he mumbled.

"Apparently it's a trend that guarantees success in the genre I work with. This book deal is important to me and I don't want it to fail just because I can't write a few graphic scenes."

The corners of his lips rose slightly. "How graphic do they have to be? The scenes."

"Well... let's just say I can't just do the 'pan over to the next day' bit," you sighed. "I agreed to write explicit sex scenes and I don't–I can't write them."

With a frustrated groan, you buried your face in your hands. Your heart was beating so hard and loud in your chest that it was also reverberating in your ears.

"Why?" you heard him ask slowly.

You turned your back the same way he had a moment ago, leaning your back against the brick mid wall. "I don't know. I just go blank," you murmured.

The truth is that you lacked first-hand experience.

What little experience you had, it wasn't something you could even put into work for something to write about. And all the times you read explicit erotic scenes, you couldn't even compare it to your experiences, so it seemed more like a fantasy.

You knew you didn't actually require the experience to write, but still it would be a good starting point.

"You lack the inspiration?" your neighbour mused with a grin on his face. He cocked his head to look at you, his dark hair falling away from his forehead a bit.

You gulped.

"Yeah," you sighed, feeling your cheeks burn as you looked up at the night sky.

It grew quiet for a moment, even the busy noise from the city appeared to have died down.

"Well," he said, starting to walk away, "I wish I could help but I have to go to work. Have fun in your little writing adventure, 317."

Your heart still strummed in your ears when you heard yourself say, "Wait!"

Joshua stopped midway through the rooftop and turned to face you.

"You can help me," the words escaped your mouth. "F-find some inspiration."

The tall dark haired man closed the distance between you. His frame was so tall that you had to look up to find his big curious eyes.

"What do you mean?" he cocked his head to the side.

You sighed, trying not to roll your eyes at how ridiculous you felt while asking your neighbour to fuck you. "I need to build up some experience. To write."

The corners of his pretty lips raised as he spoke. "You want to use me to have something to write about?"

"No," you breathed. "I want you to use me."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt something in the air between you and him change.

His dark eyes searched your face in disbelief. "You're actually asking me to fuck you."

The tone in his voice was pure awe.

"Yes," you sighed.

"My, you aren't as boring as I imagined you to be," he marvelled, a playful smile on his rosy lips.

The last bit of sanity in your mind vanished the moment before you asked your hot neighbour to be your fuck buddy. Whatever prompted you to muster the courage to get the words out was something you didn't know you had inside you.

But he wasn't saying no.

"For how long?"

"Till I finish the manuscript," you blurted out, feeling a strange reassurance invade your emotions.

His eyes searched your face, their impatience palpable, as though you had triggered a chord of fascination in his mind. "What do I get from this?"

"You get to have your pretty, boring neighbour in any way and whenever you want to," you whispered.

There was a strange feeling of assertiveness that replaced the messy nervousness from a minute ago. For you could no longer ignore the times you'd caught him staring at you. Even in your bunny pyjamas.

As if trying to test you, he grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. You blinked and gasped at the touch, a mix of emotions invaded you instantly. Your skin prickled.

"I don't even know your name," he narrowed his eyes. "You want me to fuck you but you haven't given me your name."

You mumbled your name out, feeling hot in the face but still not moving an inch from his grasp.

"Such a pretty name," he said, repeating your name, savouring it in his tongue. It sounding pretty coming from his lips and sweet voice, a tingle rushed down your spine.

"So much better than 317."

That was the last thing you said before his lips slid in between yours. A small sigh bubbled up in your chest and you let your eyelids flutter shut as his lips moved in yours.

It was a brief, sweet kiss. But it already had your heart battering against your chest frantically.

"I have to go now," he whispered, still so close to your mouth you felt his lips brush against yours. He placed a small peck on them before pulling away from you.

"Do I... get your number?" you felt stupid asking that.

You saw his back as he walked towards the door to the inside of the building. "Just knock on my door and I'll come by. Or I'll knock on yours, whatever you prefer."

"Mine," you called. "Knock on mine."

Your neighbour pulled the door open and before disappearing inside he placed his free hand up his forehead, saluting at you. "Got it. See you tomorrow then."

Tomorrow.

"What?!" you gasped, but he was already gone.

Most sundays are quiet for you. Since you actually had set a boundary for yourself and made sundays for yourself only. No work calls or mails, and definitely not turning the computer on.

Normally you would've stayed in bed, or go grocery shopping. Whatever you hadn't done during the week you would tend to on your free day.

This sunday however, was different.

A constant buzzing in your head made it nearly impossible to unwind. You even woke up earlier than usual. So you decided to get on with your sunday routine as you normally would.

Said routine consisted in deep cleaning your apartment. Normally you would do the laundry and kept yourself busy tidying up your apartment completely. It wasn't much work, since you lived alone and you considered yourself an organized person.

But today it was a hard task to tackle. You tried to keep your mind away from the memory of your neighbour kissing you softly, tauntingly.

As you were bathing, you laid a plan in your head. You knew you had to relax so, planning your next steps seemed like the best idea to follow down your path to stop your body from being so jittery.

First step was to move your collection of squishmallows to your study. There was a couch in your study so you laid all your squishmallows on it.

Next step was finding the best piece of underwear you had. Now, despite having little to no action in the sex department, you did treat yourself to nice things. So you wore a nice set of panties and bra.

It was nearly 9PM. And you started to actually feel your body burn in anticipation. Joshua didn't say when he would come around, but you thought that it would have to be soon.

Aside from chronic insomnia, you were also a victim to your vivid imagination. You couldn't help but daydream of the things you wanted to do with your neighbour.

His pretty lips on your body, his large hands caressing on your skin...

You let out a frustrated sigh. Joshua wasn't even in your apartment and you were already feeling a little bit impatient. Pathetic. You felt pathetic.

The minutes turned into hours, and you were deeply tempted to just go out and knock on his door like he said you could. But you didn't want to tell on just how desperate you were. If that were even possible still.

At 11PM, you changed into your pyjamas which weren't the bunny ones; just plain blue shorts and a matching top. Feeling embarrassed, but still not sleepy to go to sleep, you decided to wind down in the best way you knew how.

So you were sitting at your couch, playing a videogame with headphones on when you heard a thud over the soothing music of the game.

You removed your headphones, curiously looking at the door. And then you heard it clearly. A knock.

All the plans you had made in your head vanished the moment you saw him.

Scanning him up and down, the very first you noticed that his black hair was wet and pushed back in a relaxed style. He was wearing a white t-shirt along with some black sweatpants.

"Sorry I'm late," was the first thing he said.

"That you are," you pointed but moved aside to let him in since it was nearing midnight and you didn't feel like having a conversation with him at your doorstep.

He crossed your door and noticed the shoe shelf sitting in the entrance and stepped out of his Nike's, leaving them neatly beside your shoes.

You saw him to your living room, where you had abandoned your Switch and headphones. Seeing your neighbour standing in your living room made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You half expected him to kiss you as soon as he crossed your door. Crashing his lips in yours, his strong arms pinning you to a wall. Like in movies.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Something came up and I didn't have a way to let you know."

"It's okay," you sighed. "I wasn't expecting you'd come."

The pierced brow arched. "Why? I told you I'd come."

"I know," you replied. "I grew tired of waiting."

Your face tingled as he noticed you were ready to go to bed, sending a flush of warmth across your cheeks.

"Mm, I can see that," he noted, taking two steps towards you. "I'm here now. What can I do to make it up to you?"

He stood so close to you that you could catch the smell of his shampoo and soap from his skin.

"I," you gulped feeling your heart beating on your throat, "d-don't know."

He showed a playful smile reached his eyes. "You don't know? This is your idea, miss writer, just tell me what you want."

"I didn't exactly make a list," you muttered, even though secretly you had crafted some fantasies during the time you spent waiting for him to show up.

"Then why don't we just get a feel of each other first?" he suggested, surveying your face as if not knowing how you'll react. "We can get into making your list for next time."

You nodded with your head quietly, and his lower lip pressed up in a cheeky smile. Probably revelling at the reconfirmation that there will be more nights like this. Joshua leaned toward you, one hand on your chin, holding your face up to his.

"Wait," you breathed, and when your hand flew to the middle of his chest, you felt his lean pecs.

He stopped as soon as he heard you. The smile faded and he searched your eyes.

"I uh... haven't done this in a while," you mumbled awkwardly. "Years, actually."

His brow furrowed slightly. "I'm okay with that," he mumbled. "Just tell me what you like and what's off the table."

A sheepish smile appeared on your flushed face. "I've only done vanilla. So... anything's on the table, really. I'm game."

The hand that was on your chin moved down to a shoulder, pushing off from you to look at your frame. "Anything?" his eyebrows arched, his lips smiling. "You can't be serious."

"Why?" you laughed feeling embarrassed.

"You've ever done something other than missionary?" he asked, you could tell he wasn't mocking your sexual experiences or lack there of, he was genuinely curious.

"Uhm, cowgirl," you muttered, your tone sounding off.

He smiled sweetly. "And you really want to try new things in one night?"

"Why, we could just do what you like," you mumbled, feeling a little too eager. It made your cheeks flush again.

"You need a bit more practice for most things I'm into," he put in simply.

"Oh," you blinked.

That made you think what could he possibly be into that you weren't ready for in that moment. But decided not to pry any further yet.

"Have you ever had an orgasm?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course," you blurted out, feeling a rush of blood flow to your cheeks again.

He rolled his big eyes swiftly. "Let me rephrase: has someone ever made you cum?"

Your breath hitched slightly, but just about enough for him to notice. He only nodded with his head when you didn't vocalize an answer.

"That's what I thought," he mumbled, his eyes locked on yours. "If we're going to do this, I think we need to start there."

You coughed up a chuckle, feeling your fingers shake a little on his chest. "And how are you going to do that?"

He lowered his gaze, and you might have felt yourself grow smaller under his curious eyes.

"I think we can find that out together," he whispered. His hand moved from your shoulder, sliding on the crook of your neck and then you felt your self angle your face for his lips.

At first it was only a small peck, his lips captured yours and broke away briefly once. And then they slid in yours expertly, dominating the kiss, you only followed.

As the kiss deepened, your lips became more comfortable in his. Your body felt more relaxed as your other hand joined in, feeling his hard chest through his white t-shirt.

You could almost swear that Joshua felt your heartbeat with his hand on your neck when it circled to the back of your neck, fingers tangling on your hair, pulling you closer. A moan escaped you and your lips parted on his, giving access to his tongue.

Testing, his tongue lapped on yours once, the noise you made only made him repeat the movement again, at the same moment one of your hands slid from his chest to his lats, and you heard his breath shift a little bit.

That gave you a bit of confidence. You pulled your head back, your lips leaving his briefly.

His rosy lips parted a little, but before he could say anything, you took one of his wrists and started to lead him to your bedroom.

The soft warm light from your night stand lamp was just enough for you to see him clearly. But when you got to your bedroom and saw him standing there, your mind went blank again. It was just as if you didn't know what needed to happen next.

Joshua noticed. He smiled under a small sigh, using the wrist you were still grabbing to pull you to his body again. "Come here," he muttered.

Your chest clashed with his with a small yelp from your mouth. The sudden movement startled you a little. But you liked feeling the proximity to his hard body.

"I'll take care of you," he mumbled. "You don't have to do anything, just tell me if you want to stop. Got it?"

A strange warm feeling swarmed inside your chest. "Okay," you breathed.

"We can take it slow," he suggested with a small shrug.

A thought emerged in your head when hearing his words of reassurance. This wasn't what you had expected from the hot rockstar neighbour at all. You had half expected him to throw you in the bed and follow on what you had dreamt about him.

You blinked. "Don't hold back," you blurted out, "I don't want you to."

A chuckle came out of his mouth. "Okay, princess. Whatever you say," he mumbled before cupping your face to kiss you again.

"'m serious," you stuttered in his mouth.

"Get in the bed," his response was also muffled by your lips. His hands found your waist and he gently pushed you, making you take two steps backwards.

You felt your back hit the edge of your high bed and you sat down, at the same moment that Joshua took the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up his body and dropped it on the floor. Your mind went blank, it happened just as when you had to sit down and write.

Involuntarily, you swallowed thickly at the sight of his bare torso and arms. God, he's so fucking hot, you thought. The t-shirt had ruffled his wet hair a bit, so his hand brushed it back as his eyes found yours.

He approached toward the bed and placed a knee beside you. "Lie back, princess," he muttered softly.

Princess. You felt your skin tingle at the sound of him talking to you in that way. Even hearing him calling you princess was hot. And you were discovering how much your body liked it.

You scooted backwards in your bed until you were in the centre of it, your knees pulled up. Joshua followed you as you moved in your bed, until he stopped before your feet, kneeling on your light-pink duvet.

Lying down on your fluffy pillows, you got a good view of his wide and lean chest and shoulders, his strong arms and his hands as they reached your knees.

With light fingers, he caressed your thighs as he moved them to slot himself between your legs. Your skin prickled under his touch and your eyelids fluttered a bit.

Joshua made notice of your bedroom, as if he was exploring it with his eyes and his eyes fell on your metal bed posts. He smiled slowly, and you could almost see what was formulating in his mind.

"You want to tie me down?" you mumbled.

"Would you like that?" he asked, his head cocking to one side.

"I think so," you muttered sheepishly, body squirming under his gaze impatiently.

His hand cupped your chin, and he leaned down, his free hand sinking on your pillow next to your head as his lips slipped between yours. "I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart. For later."

He continued kissing you, his hand moving from your chin and soon you felt it on the other side of your head in your pillow.

"We can stop whenever you want to. Okay?" he whispered before his lips trailed down your jaw, pressing gentle and wet kisses.

"Okay," you whispered back, closing your eyes when Joshua got to the crook of your neck, planting open mouthed kisses, the brush of his tongue in your skin made you squirm and moan softly in his hear.

A hand crept up your cheek, his lips left the crook of your neck and slipped in your lips sweetly, slowly. You felt your heart racing, thrumming in your neck as his lips parted, and knowingly you gave access to his tongue with a moan from you.

Your hands cradled the back of his neck, pulling him closer as you felt yourself aching under his touch, and under the fast, hot kiss, his tongue sweeping on yours, eliciting moans and whimpers from you.

"That feels good," you muttered when his lips went down on the other side of your neck.

Joshua only hummed softly in response when he heard you, then two of his fingers tugged the neck of your top to leave more open mouthed kisses on your collarbone. You felt your skin prickle, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your top.

"Joshua," you whispered, craning your neck to give him more space for him to kiss.

"Mmm?" he hummed again as the tip of his tongue lapped along your collarbones, earning a whimper from you.

When you made no response he stopped kissing your neck and lifted his head to face you properly.

"Undress me," you breathed nervously, your fingers twitched a bit on the back of his neck.

He grinned, planting a small kiss on your chin, and another on your lower lip. His hands grabbed the lower part of your top and tugged it upwards.

"Arch your back for me, princess," he mumbled.

When he removed your top off your body, a hand caressed your bumpy skin, his thumbs playing with your nipples to watch you squirm and moan in pleasure. He knew you liked that, so he bent down and captured one of your nipples with his lips, while the other was still being fumbled between his fingers.

The noises coming from your mouth only egged him on, his tongue circling your nipple and kissing it, sucking gently earning louder moans from you and then he would carry onto doing the same for the other nipple.

The sensations overwhelmed you. The smell of his shampoo on his wet hair as his head bent down to tease your nipples with his mouth, the inevitable response of your body as your skin prickled and your aching core pooled in your panties, throbbing desperately for attention.

You held his body, one hand tangled in his raven black hair and the other down the back of his neck. Breathing hard at the sensation of his tongue swiftly licking your tits, his teeth grazing softly on your skin and tugging to find out whatever made your moans louder, needier.

Kisses trailed down from your sternum all the way down to your belly button, casually lapping your skin with his tongue, tasting your skin as if he was familiarizing with it. You bit your lip down when the sensation of his tongue on your skin sent shivers down your spine, making you squirm in your bed.

You watched him lift his face, his dark eyes finding yours.

"Don't do that," he muttered, a thumb pulling down your lip from your front teeth. "I like hearing you."

"I don't want to be loud," you mumbled shyly.

His eyebrow lifted. "Why?" he smiled playfully. "You can get payback on my roommate now."

You chuckled. "That's rude, Joshua," you said, but considered it for a second.

His lean shoulders shrugged. "I think is fair game."

And then his fingers grabbed at the band of your shorts, his body pulling back on his knees to yank the other piece of your pyjamas down your legs and throwing them away.

"You're so pretty," he muttered, slotting himself between your legs, bending down to deposit a hot kiss on your lips. "So hard for me to say no."

"You're not so bad yourself," you blurted, a shy smile emerging on your lips. "Not bad at all, actually."

He chuckled, a soft sound that made your chest flood with a warm sensation. "D'you like me?"

His question caught you off guard, and for a moment and you hesitated, thinking that he might be teasing you. Then, you took a deep breath and met his gaze.

"Yeah, I do," you admitted with a frustrated sigh. "I like you a lot."

He let out a small giggle. "Oh, really?" he asked as he continued placing sweet pecks on your chin and under your jaw.

"Yeah," you breathed, feeling a bit dazed. "I even had a dream about you once."

He hummed, his head was now between your legs, kissing your inner thighs as his hands caressed your legs with soft touches. "Tell me more about this dream."

"Y-you, oh god," you uttered at the same time his mouth nibbled gently at the soft skin of your thigh, your grip on his hair tightened. "You were in my bed with me."

Joshua lifted his head to find your eyes, the ghost of a smirk showed on his red lips. "Pretty baby had a wet dream of me?" he cooed, his fingers gingerly tugging at the band of your shorts.

You swallowed thickly, seeing his fingers tug at your pjs and nodded.

"Tell me what happened in your dream," he muttered. You could notice he wasn't being a tease now, there was a relaxed tinge in his eyes as he slid your shorts down your legs.

"I–don't remember much," you stuttered a bit, seeing him caress your legs again, his large hands on your skin. "You were beneath my covers and..."

Then two of his fingers slid down between your legs, gently touching your clothed core. The movement was swift, but it had you stuttering and arching your back under the tingling sensation on your core that ached for more.

"God," you whispered, shutting your eyelids tight. "Mmm..."

"What happened next, princess?" he purred, his fingers moving to the last piece of clothing you were wearing, sliding it down your legs slowly, a sticky string of your arousal trickling down your thigh.

"Uhmm," you hummed as you saw him slot himself between your thighs, kissing down your belly, nibbling gently at the soft flesh of your thigh, licking the string of arousal that had trickled on your skin.

You gasped loudly when you felt his hot wet tongue so near your pussy. Your fingers instantly grabbed his dark wet hair. "Y-your face was between my thighs and you were... you were... eating me out."

You caught a glimpse of his smirk, and he shot you a glance with those large, expressive brown eyes. "Like this?" he muttered before bending his head down your core, licking a strip of arousal with his tongue.

Your back arched involuntarily as your words got caught in your throat, followed by a long high keen whimper. "Oh, m'god. Joshua," your voice sounded broken and distant. You felt lost in the movement of his tongue down your soaked core, licking your arousal and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Yeah, just like that."

His tongue gave a few gentle strokes to your core, teasing and tasing. He hummed while doing it, a sound of approval before pressing his tongue flatly on your sensitive bud, moving his head up and down in small movements, moving his tongue on you.

While he was exploring your cunt with his mouth, you couldn't stop the sounds of your whimpering and moaning coming from your mouth, your body squirming and trembling with every movement of his mouth on you.

"Oh–god," you whimpered, feeling your body move uncontrollably on your bed. You screwed your eyes shut, and tried to calm down but it was just too much.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling his mouth from your core with a smacking noise from his lips.

"N-nothing it's just–ahmm," you gulped hard when you felt his breath caress your sensitive clit. "I've never been eaten out before," you managed to get out.

You darted a look at him, his hands were still angling your legs open for him so it was easy for him to dip his head down and plant soft wet kisses on the soft inner side of your thigh.

"Think of how good you're feeling," he muttered softly. "Think of how good you're going to feel when you cum all over my face," he said and then ran his tongue flatly on your thigh.

You squirmed and moaned, the crudeness of his words sent a warm sizzling wave through your body.

"Can you do that, baby? Just relax, let your body lose while I eat your pretty pussy out," he muttered.

Before you could give him a verbal reply, his tongue slid across your folds again, the only response coming out of you was in the form of a loud moan, your fingers tangling on his wet dark hair again.

Then his hands crept on your lower belly to stop you from moving, as his mouth sucked on your clit, nibbling at the soft flesh with his lips, testing you. You moaned again when the tip of his tongue swirled around your clit, but kept commanding your body to lie still and relax.

The sizzling sensation in your body grew, you could savour your release, your face and limbs growing numb as Joshua drew you closer, his mouth ravaging your cunt as if he were hungry for the taste of you. His hands pressing down your belly at the same time the tip of his tongue darted at the bud, swiftly and unstopping.

Your breath hitched and your eyes shot open, your hands clenching at his soft wet hair. "Oh–," you whimpered. "Oh, Joshua. Don't stop. Please, don't s-stop."

Something inside you snapped, and you couldn't hold it any longer. A fiery wave of pleasure took over your body, your limbs succumbing to the warm trembling orgasm.

All you could hear were the sounds of pleasure you made as you were cumming on his mouth. The whimpers and cries, moaning his name until you started panting, his tongue relentlessly flicking your clit until you felt it ache.

Breathless, your fingers relaxed on his hair as you came down your high, his tongue still licking softly at your core, the flickering movement around your clit made you flinch. You sighed hard, noticing there was a small trail of drool in the corner of your mouth.

Joshua saw you wipe your lips with the back of your hand as he climbed on top of your body, licking his chapped lips, still savouring your taste in them. He dipped his head to capture your lips in his, his tongue swiftly making its way to yours so you tasted yourself in his mouth.

A moan bubbled in your chest. You had never tasted yourself in someone else's lips. You tasted slightly salty, almost had no taste at all but there was a taste in his tongue you recognized as yours.

"You taste so fucking sweet, princess," Joshua whispered as he deposited small feathery kisses on your lips.

You hummed, still languid from your orgasm but you could feel your core still spasming a little. "Joshua," you whimpered in his lips.

"Mmm? What's wrong?" he muttered, his hand cupped the side of your face.

"Want more," you muttered, pressing your lips in his.

"We have all night, sweetheart," you felt his lips smile.

"I want you, Joshua," you whispered, feeling shy at your word choice, even though it could still be open to interpretation.

Joshua was lying on his side next to your body. He was still half dressed in his black sweatpants, his bare torso showing his muscly arms, chest and shoulders.

He smiled softly when your fingers traced an invisible line on his collarbones, almost as if they had mind on their own.

"Sure you're okay, sweetheart?" he muttered, capturing your hand in his, his fingers started tangling with yours playfully.

His hand was huge in comparison with yours, the size difference looked almost cute. You nodded. "Yeah. I want to keep going."

Compliant he nodded, his pierced eyebrow lifted slightly. "What do you want me to do?"

Your other hand slid down the back of his head, pulling his face closer to yours. Your lips locked on his, to capture his lower lip with your teeth, grazing, the tip of your tongue looking for his shyly as he moaned softly on your mouth.

"Just take me, Joshua," you whimpered, your lips brushing on his still. "I want you inside me."

He pressed lazy kisses on your lips. "Pretty girl is greedy," he hummed. "Just came on my face and wants to cum again."

You giggled, feeling shy under his teasing. "Stop it," you whispered.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you into another quick kiss. "I have to get you ready for me first, sweetheart," he mumbled.

Your eyes followed him as he got out of bed, you saw his stocky bare back and the dimples where his muscles bulged in his shoulder blades.

"What d'you mean?" you whispered, searching for his face.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked, his voice was low as he seemed to be appreciating your naked body lying on your bed.

You shook your head. "Mmm, nope," you muttered.

He nodded, seeming knowingly. His hand moved to dig in the pocket of his sweatpants. The only thing he had brought with his person was a pack of condoms, which he placed on your nightstand before removing his sweatpants and stepping out of them.

You hadn't noticed before the big bulge in his pants, but you did now. It looked huge, even if it was still kept inside his underwear. The outline of his hard cock pressed on the stretchy fabric of his black underwear, there was a small wet stain where the tip of his cock rested.

Suddenly you realised that maybe he was a bit too big for your body. Your past lovers, though evidently not many, weren't as big as he was, and you haven't even seen the full length of his cock. You gulped hard.

Joshua climbed back on your high bed, slumping his body beside yours again. He cupped your chin, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You're so pretty," he muttered with his sweet voice, his eyes studying your face briefly. "I knew I wanted to do this the moment I saw you standing on my doorstep, all grumpy at me in bunny pjs."

"Y-you wanted me?" you stuttered, your face blazing hot.

His lips brushed yours softly, almost kissing but not quite. "I wanted to see you flustered. Wanted to see your pretty face when I make you needy," he muttered on your lips.

You tried replying, but his hand was too distracting, moving from your chin to the apex between your thighs. His ring and middle finger ran down between your pussy lips, sliding in your wetness.

"Then you asked me to fuck you–my pretty neighbour. Never would've imagined that," he sighed almost as if in awe.

You flinched and your eyelids fluttered when the tip of his middle finger slipped in your entrance. Your hands grabbed at his shoulders when Joshua buried his finger inside you. "Oh, my–Joshua."

He bit his lip at the same time he grinned. God, he was insanely hot. "You like that?" he muttered, searching your eyes.

"Yes," you whimpered, feeling hot in the face. "I can take more."

He complied silently. His ring finger slipped along the middle finger, the squelching sounds from your cunt caused by his two fingers as he pumped them inside and out you deliciously.

"You want more?" the corners of his pretty lips rose.

"Please," you whimpered breathily. And you could see that he liked it, hearing your pleas.

"But baby, you're so tight," he replied softly while looking at his hand work on your cunt. "Practically sucking my fingers in."

You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes, feeling his fingers massage your cunt expertly. Whimpers were muffled in your mouth when Joshua crooked his fingers against your soft inner walls, the squelching noise growing even louder.

"I want to hear you, sweetheart," he muttered, and you opened your eyes to see him. You were face to face, since he was lying on his side next to you in your bed, his hand between your thighs, stimulating your pussy, stretching its walls with his fingers.

"Joshua," you whimpered when the palm of his hand pressed on your clit his fingers massaging your walls. The pressure in your body starting to build up.

"Mm?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. Then you felt his fingers scissor inside you, stretching your cunt more.

"Oh, god," you moaned above the sounds of your soaking wet pussy. "Please, Joshua. Fuck me, please. I want to feel you inside me."

His eyes widened slightly, as if something stirred inside his mind every time he heard your pleas for him.

He grinned and kissed your lips before pulling his fingers out of you. You shivered at the loss of stimulation but felt the anticipation rising in your body almost immediately when he stood yet again from your high bed.

"I want you here baby," he placed a hand on the edge of your mattress.

You moved in your bed as he got rid of his underwear, making you stop and freeze when you saw his hardened cock slap his lower abdomen.

It was large and thick, for some reason it looked heavy too, leaning to the side a little bit. You spotted a faint mark of a vein that trailed on the length of it, and that the dark pink tip of his cock looked wet in his precum.

While Joshua grabbed a condom from your nightstand and opened it, you placed your ass at the edge of your high bed, realising that he was just as tall that his hips were just on par with yours.

Joshua rolled down the latex down his thick cock, his hands grabbing your hips to position you so that his cock aligned with your core. He bit his lower lip as he dragged his cockhead across your wet cunt, smearing your pussy lips and clit with it before stopping at your core, the crown of his cockhead teasing you slightly, making your breath hitch.

"Ready, princess?"

"'m ready," you muttered, searching for his big doe eyes, which were wild in lust.

He grabbed your hips, supporting your legs with his arms as he started to push his hips to meet yours, his cock sliding inside your wet gummy walls so slow what you could feel him filling you up inch by inch.

It stung a little. You glanced down at where your bodies were connecting, the sight of his cock disappearing inside your cunt was so arousing that you felt a rush of heat flood inside you. You moaned in both pain and pleasure as he slid himself to the hilt, filling you up so good like you've never been before.

"You're okay?" he asked, his voice taut and breathing hard.

"Yeah," you breathed, lying back down on your bed. "'m fine."

A second later, Joshua started pushing his hips against yours, moving slowly as if he were trying to get you to adjust to him.

"You feel so fucking tight, princess," he gasped softly when he started to move faster. "So good."

He gave you a few shallow thrusts to then hoist your legs up and placed your ankles on his shoulders.

You thought the position was awkward, until Joshua pushed his length in again pressing his hips down on you, making you feel his cock buried fully inside you.

"Ahhmm," you tried to utter, your hands clenched in your duvet as your eyes rolled back. "You feel good too. S-so big."

You heard him chuckle. "All for you, sweetheart," he muttered, his breathy moans became more frequent as he thrusted his cock in and out your cunt in a delicious pace.

You opened your eyes to search his face. He was working on your body as if it were the only thing that mattered, his hands keeping your legs resting on his shoulders, his eyes taking you in, flickering down to where his cock was pushing in and out.

Your eyes followed down your lower belly, where you could feel his cockhead hitting your gummy walls each time he pushed his cock inside you.

Then, his pace started to pick up speed and depth. Almost methodically, as if he already knew you needed it without you having to verbalize it. His thrusts became more forceful–animalistic. His hands gripped your legs tighter, his arms circling on your legs to keep your body in place as he rammed his cock inside you.

Joshua had his eyes closed, his sweaty temple rested on the side of your knee as he bit down his lower lip. "Fuck, princess. You sound so fucking good too."

The lewd sounds coming from your mouth were almost foreign to you, unknown to your ears. Words coiled in your throat, broken moans trying to verbalize just how good he felt inside you. You'd whimper when you felt his cock reaching a glorious spot you didn't know could be reached, every time he hit there you felt yourself sink down in pleasure.

"Joshua, I'm–" you called in a breathy whimper.

"You're going to cum again?" he asked, and groaned softly when you nodded with your head. "Rub your clit for me. I'll cum with you."

Your fingers slipped between your pussy lips, finding your swollen clit and started rubbing, reaching your climax in just a few seconds. Joshua's generous thrusts on you and your fingers working on your clit.

A long moan came came from your mouth as tears sprung from your eyes almost instantly, your walls clenching erratically around his cock as he fucked you relentlessly through your high.

"Oh–Joshua," you whimpered breathlessly. "Fuck! Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt your body languidly reach its high, a rush of warmth flowed between your legs. But it was wet–it came gushing out from you, smearing on the soft side of your thighs and onto Joshua's crotch.

He groaned loudly, shoving his cock inside your cunt to his hilt, in and out, until the plunging of his hips became mindless. You opened your eyes to see his face, his furrowed brows, his parted pretty lips and the sweat that covered his face faintly.

God, he's just so fucking pretty.

In languid movements, you removed your hand from your clit and felt your arms slump on your duvet as you tried to catch your breath. Joshua's hips were coming to a stop lazily on yours as you heard him breathe hard as well.

You blinked slowly, and saw him look down his body, sneaking a finger between your bodies to run his fingertip on his pubic hair. "You squirted on me, baby," he muttered in a tone of surprise.

"That's what it was then," you said sounding almost as surprised as him, you glanced down to find that he was covered in a glistening wetness.

His chapped lips rose in a faint smile. "Was it your first?"

You nodded with your head, still feeling breathless. "Yeah," you breathed. "It felt good."

He replied with a nod too. "I know," he panted, his chest rising and coming down in heavy breaths. "So fucking good."

He eased your legs back down on the bed as he slowly pulled out from you.

"My legs are shaking," you whispered feeling embarrassed.

He nodded knowingly, he gently held your shaky legs and motioned you to lie down on the centre of the bed. "I'll get myself cleaned up," he muttered.

"The bathroom is the first door on the left," you muttered unconsciously as you crawled languidly to slump down on your pillows face down.

"I know," he chuckled and walked out your room.

A few moments later, you heard water running, the continuous sound of the stream seemed to calm you down from your high and you decided that you could fall asleep like that, naked in your bed and tired after all the work Joshua put you through.

You don't know how much time passed when you heard Joshua return to your bedroom, but you turned to see him picking up his things from the floor. When he found his underwear, he put it on with one swift movement.

"Leaving already?" you asked.

He lifted his head, you realised that you had startled him. "I just thought you were asleep," he explained. "I can leave if you want."

"Can you stay?" your voice sounded small.

Joshua's face seemed to relax. "Of course," he replied.

You patted the space next to your bed and he smiled softly, climbing on the bed and lying down next to you.

"D'you want to cuddle?" he asked with a small sigh. "I don't know what you like doing for aftercare."

"For what?" you mumbled.

He chuckled. "What did you usually do with your ex partners after sex?" he asked, his curious eyes locking on yours.

You shrugged. "I'd usually leave. Call a taxi, dunno," you replied, frowning. "You?"

"God," he sighed, suddenly sounding disappointed. "Who you've been with?"

"A couple of idiots," you replied flatly.

He rolled his eyes and nodded briefly as if saying 'no shit', but a faint smile rose on his red lips. "Turn around," he instructed gently and you did, turning your back to him.

His strong arms encircled you, pulling you closer to his warm body on the bed. A warm sensation filled your chest, making it hard to breathe.

"This is aftercare?" you mumbled, feeling a bit uneasy.

"You don't like it? We can do summin' else if you want," you felt him shrug behind you.

A small kiss pressed on your shoulder blade, soothing you instantly. Then another, his breath brushed your skin and caused it to prickle.

"This is fine," you mumbled, closing your eyes briefly.

"Kay," he whispered.

After a brief while, it grew quiet in your bedroom. You lied so still that you could feel Joshua's heartbeat against your back, his soft breathing landing on your back.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. "I didn't ask if I was too hard."

You swallowed. "I'm okay. I liked it hard," you answered sheepishly, in a small voice.

He let out a chuckle. "We're just warming up, princess," he muttered, placing more kisses on your back.

You giggled at the feeling of his lips on places where no one had ever kissed before.

"You're ticklish," he cooed. "Oh, princess. I'm going to have so much fun with you."

Your whole body was set ablaze again, a gentle reminder of what was yet to come.

"I'm glad I asked you to do this," you mumbled with a sigh.

"You do?" he asked, his voice was low but sweet.

"It felt good. I didn't think it would be this good," you sighed, feeling shy again.

Then the tip of his fingers started tracing invisible lines along your back gingerly, as he hummed a tune faintly, almost absentmindedly.

"Mmm, I'm glad you liked it," he sounded distant, and you thought that he might be dozing off. "Was it material you can put into your book?"

You glanced back to find his face, he eyed you playfully, a ghost of a smile in his lips.

"I wasn't thinking of my book," you admitted sheepishly.

"Good," he muttered, his eyes wandering to the rest of your body. "I wanted you to enjoy this."

Then you felt it again. That tingly warmth sensation on your chest, it struck you for a moment, leaving you breathless.

"Why?" you had to ask.

His eyes locked on yours again. "You were nervous," he shrugged. "It was your first time with a stranger, right?"

You nodded briefly.

"Though you did say you like me," the corners of his lips rose. "A lot, if I remember correctly."

You groaned, sinking your face back to your pillow and that made him laugh. "Ohmygod," you mumbled.

The gentle caress of his fingers reached the small of your back and moved to the side of your glute. You heard him sigh softly when your skin prickled, and you could imagine that he was smiling.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked sweetly. "Were you lying? Was it the heat of the moment?"

You could tell he was teasing you, but the fingers on your skin were too distracting. Even the sound of his voice was alluring.

His fingers moved from your back and found your jaw, he lifted your face from the pillow and you found his eyes. "Mm? Tell me," he insisted.

Was he really that egotistical? You brushed his hand from your jaw and he laughed quietly.

"I wasn't lying," you mumbled sheepishly, feeling like it was easier to be honest.

Joshua's mouth curved into a smile. It looked predilect, as if he found you cute.

He bent down and locked his lips with yours, his hand cupping the side of your face as his lips moved on yours passionately. Then he planted small lazy kisses on your lower lip and chin and went back to cuddling you.

"Joshua?" you muttered.

"Mm?"

You turned in his embrace, finding his face. "I wanna go again," you mumbled sheepishly.

His eyebrows arched up and he laughed. "Right now?"

You nodded, a bit too eagerly. "I want you again. Please?"

Joshua's hand moved to cup your face, his mouth pressed on yours, slowly locking his lips with yours. You parted your lips to give access to his tongue, and he moaned in resignation.

"So hard for me to say no."

✮ a/ns: ahhh this reader is my most personal one because i suffer from insomnia (˘･_･˘) anyway, if you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer wink wink

please let me know if you like the songs i suggest at the beginning of the chapters?

if you liked reading this, stay tuned for part ii and check out my other fics from its shared universe! k bye ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

my taglist is open! just send me a message and you'll be tagged for the next one or my other fics!

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request:  Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn’t have any problems lmfao) but I’m too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo’s smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing.  You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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