Archive of Our Own

You had first met Johnny Suh three years ago.

You were an introverted eleventh grader and Johnny was amongst the class of seniors approaching graduation. You had known of him, of course you had known of him. He was always up in front of the school receiving some sort of accolade for his school work during assemblies. He was charismatic and strong in character, the complete opposite of enigmatic.

The social butterfly amongst your group of friends - Ten, had met him by chance at the school uniform shop where he was rostered over Summer break. They bonded over a distaste for the sweltering heat and quickly became acquaintances.

You were sitting around on a wooden bench under the shade of a tall tree, slivers of burning sun trying to seep through the leaves and onto the sticky, gum covered wood.

Ten, Doyoung, Taeyong, Yuta and yourself were lazes, complaining over the only class you five shared, Science. You usually enjoyed the subject, but seeing as there was a long weekend coming up and your professor had decided to spontaneously request 8 pages per person of revision just before exams were due to begin - it had become the complete opposite.

You sat slumped against Ten, trying to protect your eyes from the sun when he suddenly shifted, jolting your body away from his. "Johnny!" He called loudly, causing you to flinch at the volume of his voice. You watched him stand, leaving his seat as he waved the stranger over. You curiously watched the two converse, the stranger with the curved pout in his lips walking over and introducing himself with a bright smile.

He became the go-to guy to get you all into parties that served alcohol without ID, the one who snuck you out of boring whole school gatherings in the crowded gymnasium. But for you he was the one who showed you the test answers for the classes he had passed the year previous. That latter was what had brought you closer to him, not being one to engage in under-age drinking. You still preferred apple & blackcurrant juice boxes to the bitter spirits.

In the humid school cafeteria, Johnny was sat beside Yuta, who had been busy picking apart his unsatisfactory meal from the canteen. Trying to ignore the way Doyoung scolded him from his seat for tossing peas beneath the table at the younger boys shoes. You huffed as you tried to block out the incessant chatting, taking the end of your blue pen between your teeth in frustration. You stared down at your English hypothesis, writers block taking over as you stared blankly at the jumbled mess of letters before you.

Johnny turns his attention to you at the sound of your exaggerated huffs, and nudges your side lightly with his elbow, "You good?" You place you pen down frustratedly, shaking your head. "Not really, I'm stuck. I need 1000 more words," you sigh. He chuckles at your distress, assuring you it's not that big a deal. He offers to show you his hypothesis on the same text, one that he aced the year previous with.

You thank him repeatedly when you pass your class and find yourself barely studying on your own anymore, just in case Johnny already has the answers to your tests. Which thankfully, you find that most of the time he does.

Afternoons after school are spent with him in his parent's house copying his work, worded only slightly different to avoid copyright. Johnny's Mother would be constantly knocking on his door to offer snacks, only to be turned away by an exaggerated whine out of Johnny's mouth. Watching you chuckle out of the corner of his eye each time he pulled the cutesy act.

But that was three years ago, and you've own seen him a handful of times since.

Tonight is one of those times.

Taeyong had planned what was supposed to be a quiet wine and cheese night, to celebrate his acceptance into his desired course in childcare. But Ten had walked in with bottles of Vodka and Tequila respectively, and like that Taeyong's plan was ruined.

You're sat around in a misshapen circle, Taeyong and Doyoung sat on the former's black leather sofa. Yuta was sat on a backwards turned chair from the dining table, and Ten sat opposite cross-legged in Taeyong's favourite red velvet love seat.

From where you're sat comfortably on the floor, you can feel the soft vibrations from the r’n’b music Yuta has turned on, meshing well with the dry white wine Taeyong suggested you try. Yuta turns to you with a roll of his eyes in reaction to Taeyong scolding Ten for turning his quiet night into a party while Doyoung plays sides. You chuckle inwardly at the bickering, thinking if you'd take a shot everytime Ten clicked his tongue dramatically, you'd have died of alcohol poisoning by now.

You're halfway through being pressured into a shot of vodka by Yuta when there's a knock at the door of Taeyong's humble apartment. Doyoung jumps up and answers the call, walking back to his seat with Johnny now brightening up the room with his effervescent presence.

"Johnny Suh," Ten drawls, "It's been a while." Johnny smiles at this, a light chuckle spilling from his lips. "Don’t act so surprised, you did invite me, Ten," he reminds, tone playful. You watch quietly, taking in his appearance as he jokes around with Taeyong. Stating that he only got accepted into his course because he's been living with and taking care of Yuta for two years. To which Yuta protests with a scoff.

Soft brown tresses and a charcoal coloured shirt. His blue jeans hang over the low-rise converse he has on and you can see the peak of his yellow socks as he moves. The room suddenly smells of patchouli and white musk and the scent is as intoxicating as his smile is, he hasn’t changed one bit.

The last time you had seen him, he had just ended his two-year long relationship and was coaxed into heavy inebriation by Yuta on account of his broken heart. But that’s the last thing on your mind when he turns to greet you with a bright smile, followed by a confused tilt of his head. "Did none of these gentlemen offer you their seats?" He nods towards your figure, lounged across the floorboards.

You chuckle as they all protest in chorus, "I chose to sit here," you clarify. He just grins as he watches Doyoung continue to pout at the accusation. Johnny’s then walking over to where Ten is sat, tugging a cushion out from behind his back and sliding it over to you, sitting beside you on the hard floorboards.

"Thankyou," you smile as you shift yourself on top of the nearly flattened cushion. "You're welcome," he answers, leaning back on his palms. "How you been?" He asks, a few strands of honey-brown hair falling into his eyes, he shakes his head softly, trying to rearrange them. You nod, trying hard not to focus on the way he’s looking at you right now. "Good, I've gotten a gig teaching guitar at a youth centre near our old campus.”

“Really? I didn’t even know you played,” he quirks a brow. "I stopped for a few years,” you explain, “I used to take lessons after primary school, I kinda accidentally turned it into an occupation,” you smile, sipping on your fruity wine. He chuckles, "Are you any good?"

“I’m pretty good,” you shrug, “I mean I have to be to teach, right?” He nods, "Maybe you can teach me," he muses and you grin at the thought. Settling on another sip of your wine in favour of picking another topic to make small talk over.

"You're happy?"

You nod, setting your glass down on the floor. “I like where I am right now, you?" He nods, carding his fingers through his hair, "I've got a good job delivering, and I've got a roof over my head. Can't really complain much can I?" You shrug, "Guess not."

"Guys guys," Ten claps his hands two times, breaking through the relaxed atmosphere. "Let's play a game." You groan, "Let's not." He throws you a challenging look, "Truth or dare." And this time, it's Yuta who groans,."No, fuck no."

Ten huffs, taking a heavy swig of straight vodka from the near-empty bottle. "Then what?" He rasps, as if the alcohol has burnt through his vocal chords. "Never have I ever?" Johnny offers, Ten smirks at this, nodding slowly. "Okay, okay. I like the sound of that. Guys?"

The boys shrug in response, a mutual agreeance of I don't really give a fuck.

"Wait, I thought we weren't in high school?" You joke, earning another chuckle from Johnny. "Oh come on, just play so he can shut up," Doyoung whines and you roll your eyes, wine glass back in hand.

You listen as Ten and Yuta bounce ideas off each other, not agreeing on a topic to start off with. You huff, "Enough," you clear your throat, "Never have I ever burnt ramen." You ask, tucking your pinky down. Taeyong eyes you, "I thought you were supposed to pick things you haven't done."

You chuckle sheepishly, "Oh.. Whatever," Johnny snorts as he watches you, clearly tipsy as you unfold your legs and lean back on your elbows. Yuta and Ten both put a finger down, Doyoung huffing in disbelief at the admission.

"Never have I ever fallen asleep in public," Doyoung pipes up, Yuta tucking a finger down with a whine. Doyoung eyes Taeyong expectantly, to which he darts his eyes around at. "What?" The older boy asks, confused. Doyoung coughs, "Ahem. You slept through like, four years of high school."

"That's why it took him three years to get into his course," Ten snorts, slurring. "Hey," Taeyong complains, defeated and tucking a pinky down with a frown. "He's joking, Yong," Johnny reassures, "Congratulations again, by the way," he grins. Taeyong's face lights up at the attention, "Thank. You." He drawls out, sending Ten a glare.

Yuta clears his throat, "Never have I ever had sex in public," he asks daringly, eyes on Ten, determined to take him out. You swallow in response as you watch Ten fold another finger down with a scrunch of his nose, "You knew that, you asshole." Johnny tries to fold his finger away in secret, but Doyoung doesn’t let it happen, sitting up in his seat as though he’s heard something scandalous, "No way."

Johnny smiles sheepishly, his cheeks slightly reddening. "Alex... It was behind the concert venue after we saw Bon Jovi," he explains, "Things got outta hand," he chuckles, embarrassed.

Alex. Alexis. The girl with whom he shared a 2 year relationship with after high school, the tall fashion student who exuded sensuality and could pull off any of the outlandish pieces of clothing she designed. The girl whom you had a strong distaste for, for no reason that was apparent to you.

Taeyong pipes up, "Never have I ever stolen an item during self-checkout at a store," he splutters, chuckling as though the utterance of the question is absurd. A unison of groans and protests follow, "Hasn't everyone?" Yuta asks, exasperated as all 6 of you fold a finger down. Taeyong shrugs innocently, "You think of one then," he defends, disheartened.

Yuta shakes his head, "It's her turn," he points, swirling around his sweating glass of vodka and lemonade. You hum in thought, desperately trying to think of something you haven't done. As you bite at your bottom lip, Johnny leans over and whispers in your ear, "Drinking under-age."

You grin at this, ignoring the heat he emits or the sheer proximity, or the way his fingers brush your hair from your ear. "Never have I ever engaged in under-age drinking." Another chorus of groans, Ten and Yuta tied on 2 as all five boys fold a finger down. You eye Johnny curiously as you watch him fold a finger down, confused as to why he would suggest something he's done himself.

"Johnny!" Ten curses, "That's cheating." The older shrugs innocently, "I didn't say anything, simply asked where the bathroom is." You snort behind your hand as you eye him, amused by the act as he sends you a knowing look. "Then why don't you go?" Doyoung asks, confused. Johnny shrugs, "I don't have to."

You snicker as the noise dies down, the soft music still vibrating softly through the floorboards. "My turn," Ten sits up in his chair, pupils dilated and cheeks red, bordering on drunk. "Never have I ever lost my virginity," Ten smirks, eyeing you competitively. There’s a chorus of protest as Ten folds his finger down, cockily. Your face heats up at his attack, cheeks warmed, playing it off as you watch everyone fold a finger down.

..Except you.

Yuta eyes you from above and snorts, "No?... Still?" Ten chuckles from his seat, with a wicked smirk. Throwing away the whole game, just to get back at your previous attempt to eliminate him. Your heart sinks, your blood curdling in disbelief as you’re put under the spotlight, the embarrassment blurring your vision as you feel tears being to prick at your ducts.

"Enough," Johnny's voice breaks through the uncomfortable atmosphere, dark and alert. "Game's over, she wins. Drink up." He mutters, to which Ten protests, exasperated. "Especially you Ten," Johnny argues menacingly.

You feel your hands shake and knees wobble as you stand to move to the kitchen in the next room, throwing the door as you walk in, not hard enough to have it close but to the extent that the noise in the next room is drowned out. You fill your wine glass with a mixture of tequila and coke and nearly choke when you gulp it down, desperate to eliminate your embarrassment.

"Hey," your ears peak at the sound of Johnny's voice in the quiet room, turning slightly to acknowledge him. "Hey," you mutter, above a whisper as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. He places a warm hand on your shoulder, "You okay?" He asks softly, sweetly, and you nod. "They're assholes, ignore them." You huff bitterly, "Ten is the asshole," you correct. "... Yuta too apparently."

He sighs, dropping his hand back to his side. "You know how Ten gets when he drinks," he mutters. At this point you hear the music being turned off, Taeyong and Doyoung's voices muffled in what sounds like an argument against Ten. You nod, "But I didn't think he'd embarrass me like that."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he furrows his brows confusedly. "Being a virgin is nothing to be emba-"

"Stop," you hold up your hand, a breathless chuckle leaving your lips at the topic, "Can we drop it?" You ask, cheeks still burning with heat. He nods, silencing as he watches you pour another mixed drink, not caring what it is, just throwing anything into your glass. You stand, just watching it swish around as it turns into a muddy brown colour.

"It's not that I'm holding onto it," you mutter softly, taking a sip of the bitter concoction. Johnny listens intently, gazing out the kitchen window adjacent to you as you gather your feelings. Pale moonlight casting shadows over the neat kitchen. "I just.... Haven't had the chance."

"I wasn't ready in high school, and then when I was, no one was interested anymore," you shrug, another sip, "Being popular really does get you nowhere, hey?" You look to Johnny where he stands, the silvery light coating his skin and highlighting his visage, his cupids bow seeming to glow. You nearly gawk at the sight, the alcohol causing your head to swirl.

"When did you lose yours?" You ask, slightly slurring but playing it off. He turns to face you, an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he watches your internal conflict triggered by Ten, your slow blinking and sad eyes. "You're drunk," he sighs. You nod, "I know." You hop up on the kitchen counter on unsteady hands with a small giggle, Johnny jumping to help you in-case you slip. But you manage to balance yourself and he lets his arms fall back to his side with an unhappy sigh. "You think.... You think maybe If I fucked someone, Ten would genuinely be my friend again?”

Johnny crosses his arms, leaning against the wall opposite you, "No," he deadpans. "Don't talk like that," he shakes his head and you shrug in response, uncaring. "Why do you want his friendship anyway? He's just a drunk who's still bitter deep down because you rejected him in twelfth grade." He points out, "He's not someone you confide in, I learnt quickly that he's someone you party with and barely contact in between."

Ah, twelfth grade. Johnny had barely kept in contact with any of you since graduating, but when you called him in tears after months of not talking - he was quick to offer his shoulder to cry on. Ten had asked you out, and when you rejected the offer - he cut you off and told you to delete his number. Johnny threatened to call him up, invite him out and give him ‘a good talking to’ - but the desperation in your voice as you begged him not to - melted him into reluctant surrender.

You shake your head, "He hates me because I'm a virgin," you mumble. Johnny sighs your name for what feels like the millionth time, "No, just no-"

"What about you?" You mutter, your eyesight blurring so heavily you can barely see in the moonlight at this point. He pauses, furrowing his eyebrows, "What about me?"

"You fuck me," you spit out carelessly. His mouth gapes, eyes wide, but it's apparently too minuscule for you to notice in your drunken state. He shakes his head, "Stop," he mutters. You shake your head, "See? No one wants me," you huff, flailing your arms childishly. Johnny watches your antics, saddened. "You've had enough, love," he hushes softly as you try to refill your glass with shaky hands.

You sigh and nod, jumping off the counter on unsteady legs. You wobble a bit and stumble into Johnny's hard chest like a newborn giraffe would. His arms coming out to steady you, "You okay?" He asks, softly.

You nod, wrapping your arms around the warmth that his body offers. He sighs, letting you squeeze him as it seems to calm you down. "I just want to be loved," you mutter, muffled against his chest. He sighs as your grip doesn't relent, patting your back comfortingly, helpless.
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When you wake the next day you wish you had forgotten the previous night, your pathetic whining and out of character behaviour, but you haven't. You remember every single embarrassing detail of your drunken spiralling and the pain of embarrassment overwrites your hangover discomfort right now.

As you tiptoe out of your room, groggy and exhausted, you're greeted with the smell of Doyoung's cooking and a loud laugh from the boy. You scrunch up your nose at the noise, "You look very... Hmm..." He pauses, pondering over how to word himself. "I know," you rasp, padding over in your nightie with the teddy bear pattern. You plop yourself in a seat at the breakfast bar, gulping down the glass of water Doyoung has set beside an empty plate.

He grins, amused as he scoops a heap of scrambled eggs onto your plate, a half slice of toast cut into a triangle to accompany it. "What? No bacon?" You complain. He clicks his tongue at your lack of appreciation, "It was too expensive." You huff in reply as you drown your eggs in hot sauce and cracked pepper, the scent causing your stomach to rumble. "You can handle a vegetarian breakfast can't you?" He teases, plating his own food. "We'll see," you joke, stabbing at your food with a fork as he watches, amused.

You two have shared an apartment for six months now, and you couldn't believe how well it was going. Neither of you were sensitive or picked fights, you always allowed each other space and rarely conflicted over what movie to watch when you had time together. It was a match made in heaven. Doyoung worked all day as a pharmacist while you worked sporadic shifts teaching guitar to young children. Your in-between days spent lazing on your chequered sofa with Moko, the kitten you shared, napping her tiny silvery-grey head on your lap.

"We should go grocery shopping," Doyoung mentions with a mouthful of eggs, "We need washing powder and potatoes."

"Can't we get washing liquid?" You ask, and with a firm shake of his head he protests, "No, powder is cheaper this week."

Ah yes, Doyoung's budgeting. That was probably his only con, it all added up in the end, every cent that he saved was worth it. But the constant use of the calculator app on his phone and the mass amounts of coupons he carried in his wallet became tiring to adhere to.

You sigh in defeat, bobbing your head in a tired nod as you place your empty plate and glass in the sink, "Thanks for the food, by the way," you nod toward him. "Welcome," he mumbles, as he chews.

You could tell from the moment you started pushing the cart, that Doyoung was in heavy bargain hunting mode today. And you, were not having it.
His constant refusal of letting you place things randomly in the cart was wearing your tolerance thin, so with a heavy sigh you turned to him, exasperated. "I'm gonna get some fresh air," you excuse to Doyoung, to which he nods absent-mindedly in reply, occupied with calculating.

You step out of the over-crowded department store and into the frosty breeze, leaning against the windows of the shop front. The smell of dirty petrol floods your nostrils as a small truck pulls up to the front, parking with squeaky breaks and a loud skid. The abrupt sound of a car door slamming catches your attention, lifting your eyes curiously you curse under your breath when you're faced with the receiver of your alcohol fuelled ramblings the previous night.

Johnny calls your name confusedly, visibly shocked to see you. You nod sheepishly, tugging the sleeve of your sweater down out of habit. "Hey," you muster. You don't fail to notice that he can't keep eye contact with you, his eyes constantly running away from yours. You take in his bright orange vest and the truck he stepped out of, "You work on Sundays?" He nods, chuckling. "Yeah, I work every day actually," he informs you, "But it's not that bad, they're only 3-4 hour shifts depending on the load."

You huff, "Good for you, I wouldn't be able to do it." He just nods, bobbing his head with a tight-lipped smile, "It's good money so....." He trails off awkwardly. You sigh as you watch him scuff up the floor with his sneakers, eyes glued to the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Johnny, I'm sorry." He manages to lift his gaze to yours, his head still aimed toward the floor. "You don't have to apologise," he shakes his head. You protest, "I do. It was so out of character, I wish I could take it back," you huff, frustrated with yourself.

"It's fine really," he assures. "I'm sorry if I offended you," you mutter quietly. "No, you didn't," he shakes his head, "You had a little too much to drink that's all I remember." He winks at you playfully, a sign that he's willing to pretend it never happened. You share a chuckle in unison, the atmosphere between you two almost back to it's usual level of comfort.

"Let me make it up to you, let me buy you dinner," you offer. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, "I don't know, you're going to have to convince me." You laugh at his playfulness, "What do you want to eat?" He hums in contemplation, "Gold leaf caviar and champagne." You scoff, "Yeah right, you're getting burgers and fries," you deadpan and he chuckles, "And a coke if you're lucky."

"Make it Fanta and I'm there," he smiles.

Johnny isn't free until Wednesday night for your proposed dinner, and there's a few days in between where you're nervous that he actually doesn't want to have dinner with you. So when you receive a short text on Wednesday morning, confirming the event, you're more than relieved.

The two of you arranged to meet at a burger joint of his choice, but when you show up 15 minutes late after getting lost he's relentless.

"Oh, finally," he huffs playfully with a roll of his eyes, his head leant against his palm for maximum dramatic effect. You giggle, half out of embarrassment the other half nervousness. You just can't get the thought out of your head that you asked this guy to take your virginity in a drunken stupor.

"I've already eaten, so I'll be off now," he says, standing from his seat in the booth he chose. You let out another giggle, shoving at his arm, "You play too much." He chuckles warmly as you pull him in for a hug, relishing in the heat radiating through his black button down.

"You dressed up for me?" You tease as you take a seat across from him. He snorts, "Hardly." He nods toward your outfit, your ripped jeans and soft blue hoodie, the same hoodie you slept in, "Talk about dressing up." He nods, "Just for you," you coo and he grins in response. "You know what you want to order?" He asks, tapping the pads of his fingers along the wooden tabletop. "I should be asking you, no?" You tease, folding out the creased paper menu in front of you. “I owe you one, remember.”

"Ah," he nods, "Right, this isn't a date," he jokes.

You two eat over comfortable conversation, peaking when Johnny makes you laugh with a mouthful of food, which you're only able to swallow after a solid minute of trying not to inhale your food as you breathe in. His natural ability to keep you laughing has your belly aching, but he can't seem to help himself. The way you stare at him whilst you're in hysterics, and the way your eyes crinkle up keeps him laughing along with you.

"This was fun," Johnny exhales, ending his laughing fit. "This is fun, it's not over yet," you correct. He raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Where are you taking me next?" He asks, batting his eyelashes. "I just can't bare having this much fun with you and then going back home to Doyoung," you sigh, scrunching up your face. "Hey," he points, "If any of those boys love you, it's Doyoung." You roll your eyes playfully, "I know, I know."

"Have you spoken to Ten?" He inquires. You shake your head, "Taeyong said he talked to him for me though."

"If I were you I wouldn't speak to him unless he apologises," Johnny interjects. You shrug, "It's not that big a deal, I barely talk to him already." He rubs his hands together at your stubbornness, leaning back in his seat casually, "Let's go for a walk,” he blurts suddenly.

"Hm?" You furrow your eyebrows at his sudden suggestion. "C'mon," he nods his head toward the exit. "Let me pay first," you remind him, fetching the $20 note you scrunched into your back pocket. The grin that he wears suddenly arises suspicion in your gut, “What?...”

"I already paid," he smiles. Your mouth gapes, "Why?! When?"

"When you went to the bathroom," he chuckles, "That just means we have to do this again." You watch the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smirk, amused at his subtle way of suggesting another date.. Oh, but this wasn't a date.

"Well, it sounds like a date," Doyoung mutters, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. Noisily flipping back and fourth between two pages of text. "It wasn't a date," you reiterate with a roll of your eyes, sitting beside him at the dining table. He eyes you suspiciously as you talk, the way your eyes light up when you explain every single joke Johnny told, stopping to laugh at each reminder throughout.

"Mhm," he hums, unbelieving.

After the dinner, Johnny had offered to accompany you the short walk home. The short distance ending up stretched out over a half hour as you two walked slowly, reminiscing about the days when you had a year-long crush on Yuta but never confessed.

When Doyoung saw you two hug in the doorway of your apartment and the way you laughed at his very unfunny goodbye of, 'catch ya later, alligator,' he knew he'd have to approach you.

"You two are meant to be friends, men and women who are friends do not go on dates," Doyoung analyses with a pointed tone. You scoff, "Men and women can do whatever they want, I don't like Johnny because I went on one date with him." When Doyoung gives you a look, you immediately back-pedal, "I mean, fuck. Not a date."

"Mhm," he hums again, gaze falling back to his paper. "What are you reading anyway?" You ask, acting curious enough to change the subject smoothly. "The Government has cut down on funding for vaccinations this season," he explains, "We've gone from supplying 500 to 350 for the upcoming flu season."

You sigh, not even trying to comprehend the numbers. He chuckles, knowing your lack of knowledge in his department. "It means we're fucked, start taking extra vitamins." You chuckle tiredly, the clock on the wall grabbing your attention with each ridiculously loud tic. 10:58pm

"Hey, I think I'm gonna sleep," you yawn, pushing your chair in behind you as you stand. Doyoung scoffs, "You never sleep this early." You shrug at his words, padding over the floorboards to your room. "Sleep well, don't dream of Johnny," he jokingly warns.

A few weeks later, days blurring as they pass. Afternoons filled with Moko and hot chocolate with too many little marshmallows. Days of calloused hands and teaching your students how to super glue the pads of their fingers when they plan on playing guitar for a long period of time.

There's an off day where you're moping around and as if knowing, Taeyong invites you over. Says he misses seeing your face and wants to catch up. You don't hesitate to drive over, a box of his favourite sugar cookies in your hand as you knock on his apartment door.

Yuta answers, and it's then you realise you haven't seen him either, since that night. He smiles sheepishly, he had always been a little cowardly when it came to apologies.

In first grade he pushed over your sandcastle in the sand-pit, and you only accepted his half-hearted apology of a broken off dandelion because he was also friends with Taeyong.

"Hey," he greets, scratching at his dark tresses. "Taeyong told me to apologise to you, about the other week. It was lowkey bullying, hey?" You sigh, the conversation topic constantly being brought up just when you forget about it. "You're forgiven, you ass."

He smiles at this, watching you pad over silently to where Taeyong is doing his thing in the kitchen. Stirring diligently as he mutters to himself under his breath. "Boo!" You yelp from over his shoulder. He jumps with a gasp, his hand grasping his t-shirt clad chest. You giggle in response, his face melting in relief at the sight of you.

Taeyong had considered you family, he'd known you the longest after all. You two had first met in kindergarten, where you two were the only 4 year olds who weren't crying for their parents. "C'mere," he chuckles, pulling you in for a warm hug. He snatches the box of cookies from your hand as he pulls back, "For me?" He asks, face bright with hopefulness. You nod as you take a seat at the breakfast bar, Yuta sliding in beside you. "Did you apologize?" Taeyong asks him with a nod of his head towards you, his nimble fingers fumbling with the plastic packaging around his sweets. Yuta rolls his eyes, "Duh."

Taeyong scrunches his nose up at the sarcasm as he munches on a cookie to calm himself down from scolding Yuta in front of you. "Ten's coming over," Taeyong mumbles, crumbs falling from his lips. You furrow you brows in distaste, "Today?" Taeyong nods, "It's the only way for you two to straighten things out, I'd rather me hang around instead of you two trying on your own."

You slightly panic as you hear a knock at the door, the small interval between the reveal and the actual happenings not leaving enough time for you to take in the information. You watch as Yuta answers the door, leaving it open as he scurries to his room. Ten approaches you, a small, cheap looking bouquet of daisies that scream him in his grasp.

"I'm sorry," he holds the flowers out to you and at this point Taeyong has moved to the living room to leave you two alone, the room falling deathly silent between each word. "I'm a piece of shit," he sighs as you take the flowers without a word. "I get so fucking insensitive when I drink, I'm sorry." You sigh, assessing the half-dead flowers that lay on the counter in front of you. "I forgive you, just... You embarrassed me so much Ten. I hope you know that."

He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat beside you, "I know, and there's nothing to feel embarrassed about anyway, you know that." You nod, "It's just that.. Johnny was there and he like... Never mind," you trail off. "Hm? What about Johnny?" He nudges you. You shrug, "Nothing."

He clears his throat, “Do you remember in fourth grade, when I was transferred to your school?” You nod, staring at the fresh piercing going through his helix. “You were the first one to come and talk to me, you’ve always been there for me. You’re so good to me,” he gushes. “I need to start being good to you too,” he sighs. “Do you accept my apology?”

You nod once again, “I already told you I forgive you,” you chuckle. “Just making sure”, he smiles sheepishly, "Are we good?" You nod, "As good as we'll ever be." But you’re still an asshole.

He smiles, "Good."

Your workload had increased due to school holidays, the influx of appointments steadily raising your savings until you were sure you could finally upgrade to a new Les Paul. A gold top with brass strings and gold studs along the fret board.

"There's an opening at work, we need an afternoon cashier," Doyoung explains, Moko mewling atop his thighs as the evening news flashes across the television. You grumble at the image, she always leaves you to pounce on him as soon as he steps through the door. Backstabber. “I do have a job you know,” you sigh, "Plus you know I don't like serving people," you reiterate.

“But you would probably earn more if you worked with us,” he mutters. You shrug, tired of the incessant pestering. Just as you head to your room, your phone alerts you that you have a message, the annoying wa-ping! Echoing throughout the quiet living room. "It's probably just my Mum," you roll your eyes at the notification.

Doyoung fetches it from where you've pressed it between the couch cushions and shakes his head, snickering to himself. "It's Johnny." You pause in your steps, walking over to snatch the phone out of Doyoung's hand before he can read the text.

'Hey,' it simply reads.

You hold back a smile as you notice Doyoung watching you cautiously, you scoff, shrugging nonchalantly. "So what?" You shove it onto your back pocket, trying not to rush to your room with each step. You take the phone into your room, hopping up onto your bed as you unlock your phone and type out an identical message in reply.

'Hey.'

You wait less than a few seconds before he replies, 'Give me a call, I hate texting.'

You chuckle inwardly, he had always been like this. He detested technology, always preaching about face-to-face interactions being so much more meaningful. So you call him, and he answers immediately.

"Heyyy," he drawls down the phone playfully. You smile to yourself at the sound, "Hi."

"You busy right now?" He asks, the sound of wind cracking through the phone. You hum, "’Course not, Why?" He sucks a breath in through his teeth, "About that dinner you owe me, how's about it right now? I'm starving and the ATM just ate my card," he explains. You try to laugh quietly but he picks up the faint wheezing and scoffs, "Don't laugh!" He whines excessively, laughing by the end of his reply. "I'm sorry," you answer breathlessly, "I'll come pick you up, where are you?"

"Outside the ATM vestibule up the road," he answers quietly. You chuckle, "Figures."

Johnny was freezing cold and shivering by the time you drove your dingy car to pick him up, but he thanked you a million times as he leaned towards the little air vents blowing warm air outwards.

"What do you want to eat?" He groans, as if in pain as he rubs his arms in an effort to warm himself up. "You pick, something warm." After his vague answer left you clueless, you decided on a restaurant that served hot soup as you took in the slight blue tint to his pouted lips.

After a dinner filled with little slurping sounds and constant hisses at the temperature, you sat full and warm and dazed in front of Johnny. The mere sight of him just making you smile giddily for no apparent reason.

"What?" He quirks, much less stiff and lips back to their soft pink colour. You shake your head, "Nothing."

"Then why are you smiling?" He teases. You shrug, "I'm just... Always happy when I'm around you," you tilt your head, "I don't know why." He shrugs, "Can't blame you, it's like a virus." You giggle at his confidence, the way he playfully paints on a nonchalant expression and cards his fingers through his hair.

You think it's in this moment, with your heart beating wildly in response to the playful wink he sends you, that you acknowledge that you've begun to like Johnny Suh.. So much more than a friend.

So when you drive him to his apartment and remind him to call the bank in the morning, the appreciative hug he gives you has you swooning instead of laughing. And the change has you nervous immediately.

You begin dropping hints here and there, love heart emojis ending all of your texts, asking him for song recommendations, only to send him love songs in reply when he asked for you to send some back. You're not sure why you bother though, you always lacked the ability of reading boys, so it was all useless really.

Regardless.

It’s a lazy afternoon when you decided to surprise Johnny after work, you were waited outside the post office, hiding behind a pillar in an effort to hide yourself as you waited for him to exit.

As you see him approach where you are, you jump out to scare him, "Boo!" He gasps, clutching his chest, his eyes widening when he realises it's you. He swats at your arm playfully, "Why?" He whines, dragged out childishly. You snort, revealing the hidden bouquet of bright orange tulips from behind your back, you had bought them in the spur of the moment as you passed the florist on the way.

A wide grin etches itself onto his face, as he takes them from you. "For me?" He smiles, inhaling the scent. You nod with a nervous giggle, "I just wanted to get you something nice," you utter. “Aren’t they so pretty?” You gush in question and he bops his head in a nod, cradling the bouquet under his arm. "What are you doing here?" he tilts his head curiously

You shrug, "I wanted to come see you." He holds back a smile, "Yeah?" He asks, you nod. "Well now that you've seen me, you can go home now." He waves, playfully stepping towards his car. "No!" You squeal, chasing after him, "Wait!" He chuckles, turning to you. "I'm kidding, where do you want to go?" He stands before you, honey-brown hair blowing in the wind, your eyes glossy in admiration.

You shrug, "I don't know.." You trail off, whining slightly. He doesn't fight back the smile at the adorable lilt in your voice, "Well my work clothes are filthy, so I have to change first," he gestures to the cardboard fibres stuck to his jeans. "So, we'll just chill at your place," you offer. He quirks an eyebrow at you, to which you think nothing of as he nods slowly. "Okay, but I'm not making dinner." You snort, "I wouldn't eat it anyway."

You follow him to his apartment, the location in a part of town you don't recognise. The last time you went over to his house it was down the road and his Mother would greet you with a warm hug and a glass of lemonade as you walked in.

You both make your way up to his apartment, the clean scent that usually permeates off him floods your nostrils as you enter. His apartment is just as you would have imagined - mismatched but still somehow blending so well. A small bookcase with a beanbag in the corner, half-empty mugs of coffee piled around and a clean beige sofa opposite a dusty flat-screen. A regal, ruby coloured rug covering the hardwood floor.

He leads you to his kitchen, pouring you a glass of water while he orders all of the Chinese dishes your stomach desires, as you point to on the paper menu atop his counter.

You eat ravenously, not realising how famished you were until you were seated on Johnny's sofa with the smell of garlic vegetables flooding your senses. After finishing every side dish, all the empty containers piled up on his coffee table, you sat full and unwilling to move.

"C'mon," Johnny nudges you lightly, "Fortune cookie," he urges you, pointing toward the two cookies. You whine, "No, they're gross." He huffs, "You don't have to eat them, just read yours." You sigh and reach over to grab at both of them, passing one to Johnny as he happily cracks it open and munches on it loudly. You chuckle at the sight, "Go on, what does it say?" You whine, nudging his arm.

He eyes you amusedly before gazing back to the miniature scroll, clearing his throat as he reads out the sentence. "Today, a pretty girl will buy flowers for you," he gasps, looking at you with his mouth gaping and eyes wide. "It's true!" You double over, laughing into your hand as you swat at his arm playfully. Your belly aching from the effort of trying to breathe through the hysterics. He chuckles from above you, the sound of your laugh always encouraging him to join in with you.

"Your turn," he chuckles, watching you pant in the aftermath of his joke. You nod, sitting up and cracking it open, offering the cookie to him. As he munches loudly you stare down at your boring fortune of, 'If you can dream it, you can become it!'

You ponder for a short while before clearing your throat, "Tonight you will confess that you really really.. Like the person sitting in front of you." You roll it up in your hand, eyes hesitantly trailing to Johnny as you speak. You watch as his lips turn up, a warm smile gracing his features as he stares back at you.

"Really?" He asks, sitting up in his seat. You nod, biting your lip. "Why?" You ask, hesitantly, your fight or flight kicking in as you eye the distance to the door. He shakes his head, "I like you too," he mutters, a shy tone to his voice. Your face lights up at the confession, "You do?" He nods, "Of course, I've always like you." You furrow your brows, thinking you've been lost in translation. "No- I like you," you repeat. He nods, "I know. I said, I've always liked you."

You're still sat there with a confused expression when he clears his throat. "I've liked you since high school. I just figured you weren't interested so I never said anything." You feel breathless at his words, confused beyond belief as everything seems so apparent now. Your blindfold is finally pulled from over your eyes, is this why Doyoung saw this all coming?

"You never- why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs, "You liked Yuta when I first realised it, It wasn't the right time. And then there was Jaehyun who you dated for a while, I was with Alex by the time you were single again. We just never got our timing right."

You whine frustrated, "I could've been dating you this whole time, are you kidding?!" He laughs heartily, leaning forward to wrap an arm over your shoulders comfortingly. You melt into the touch and drape your arms around his neck in a warm hug, embracing him for the first time without the giddy nerves and confused feelings.

Still harbouring butterflies though.

Johnny stuff his fortune into his pocket, the one that actually read; 'Stop searching forever, happiness is next to you.'

It was Yuta's birthday tonight, so of course Ten was hosting a party in his honour. You were told to bring a bottle of alcohol each, but you also decided to bring Johnny once you found out he wasn't invited.

Johnny drives you two to Ten's apartment, the impressive space that his parents bought for him as a present for his 21st birthday. Most of the drive spent with Johnny encouraging you to sing along with him, karaoke style to his playlist of early 2000's one hit wonders.

When you arrive you have to hold back from holding Johnny's hand as you take the elevator up to his apartment, recognising that tonight definitely isn't the night to steal Yuta's thunder.

When Ten swings the door open with a glass of whiskey neat in his hand, you know that this isn't going to be a subtle gathering. The birthday boy's favourite hip-hop songs waving through the air as you step in to greet the other boys. “Oh Johnny,” Ten cheers surprised, "You guys came together?" he asks, looking between you both with a tilted head.

You nod and look to Johnny in some sort of telepathic conversation of what reason would sound best. "She needed a ride, and I was happy to give her one," Johnny shrugs. Ten nods, sipping his drink seemingly uninterested with the boring explanation. "Just a warning, Yu’ is already drunk," Ten notifies you two quietly. You roll your eyes, exasperated. "Already?”

He nods dramatically, "And apparently he's made a list of drinking games for us to play." You groan, "Fuck that, he was the one who complained last time we played.” He chuckles, "I'm gonna refill, come get something to drink," he nods his head toward the kitchen. You both follow him and make your own drinks, respectively. Your Bourbon and cola, and Johnny's beer with a slice of lime stuffed down the neck.

You're sat on Ten's navy sofa when Doyoung sits himself in front of you two with a glass of red wine between his fingers. "Oh hey guys," he greets almost sarcastically, eyeing you. "Hey Doyoung, how you been?" Johnny smiles, his eyes scrunching up adorably. You tear your eyes from Johnny's face to garner Doyoung's reactions. "Peachy," he shrugs. "How about you? Anything interesting going on?" He blinks rapidly between you two.

Johnny nods, "Yeah actually, but nothing you should concern yourself with," he points the neck of his bottle towards the younger boy. Doyoung scoffs as you chuckle, "You're no fun," he complains, taking a sip of wine.

As the night goes on, you've downed three drinks and Johnny two. The songs on a continuous loop barely registering through your mind as you watch Taeyong and Doyoung play a game of very inebriated charades. Taeyong's face is scrunched up and his back hunched, balancing on one leg as Doyoung calls out guesses.

"Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

"Uhh.. Old man?"

"Ooh! Ooh!" He claps with confidence, "Statue Of Liberty," he points.

"Time!" Ten calls, his phone illuminating his face as he gazes at his phone. Taeyong regains his composure, his hands on his hips as he aims daggers towards Doyoung. "Are you kidding?! It was a flamingo," he throws his hands in the air.

"Now that you say it....." He trails off, slurring.

"Guys! Guys!" Yuta calls, "Let's do something fun! Body shots," he sing-songs, waving a bottle of tequila around. "Woo!" Ten cheers, "Fuck yes." Taeyong grimaces, "I know for a fact, that your personal hygiene is terrible," he nods toward Yuta who giggles in response, which would normally be a scoff had he been sober. "That's why we'll spin the bottle to see who gets who, one round or two?" He slurs, a finger tapping as his bottom lip in contemplation.

"One, I have to drive home,” Johnny interjects. “One it is,” Yuta nods as he places the empty bottle of Peach Schnapps in the middle of the coffee table. "Who wants to go first?" He asks and Ten puts his hand up straight away as volunteer, of course.

He leans forward, grasping the empty bottle and spinning it. You watch it, almost transfixed as it comes to a stop in front of Doyoung, who groans immediately. "Up on the table, big boy," Ten teases.

Doyoung swallows the rest of his wine and lies across the short coffee table, peeling his striped shirt up to reveal his bare belly. Ten fills his shallow navel with his liquor of choice, foregoing the traditional Tequila in favour of Whiskey. Doyoung cringes, his hands bunched up at his sides as Ten sucks the liquid into his mouth, smiling victoriously as he lifts his head. Doyoung immediately goes back to his seat on the floor and spins the bottle, huffing as it lands on Yuta.

"Woo!" The older boy cheers, lying on his back and exposing his toned belly to the winner above. Doyoung overfills Yuta’s navel until there's Jägermeister spilling down the sides of his belly and onto the table. He slurps up the alcohol, trying his hardest not to have his lips touch his skin as he pulls off.

Yuta stands, the black liquid dribbling down into his jeans as he takes grasp of the bottle. Ten scoffs as he moves to lie down as Yuta takes his shot of Vodka. "Ten already went, so who's turn is it now?" Yuta slurs. You shrug and spin the bottle, satisfied when it lands on Taeyong. The boy sends you a shy look when he peels his button down up his stomach, his toned belly staring up at you as you fill his navel with bourbon. He grimaces as you dip your tongue in, holding your hair back as you suck up the smoky liquid.

"I don't like this," Taeyong complains as he spins the bottle, groaning when it lands on Johnny. "You better not be hairy," he mutters as Johnny moves to lie on his back. Taeyong has to pour the Gin three times on account of Johnny's nervous giggling, causing it to spill out each time he laughed. Eventually Taeyong gets his shot, pulling back with a relieved sigh as the end of the game nears.

"The only time you'll get me to play this again is if all of you aren't here," Taeyong complains. Your chuckle suddenly dies down as Johnny's bottle stops on you. You look up to him, swallowing thickly. "This isn't fair," Taeyong continues to grumble. You lie back, staring up at the yellow glow of the ceiling light as you peel up your shirt, exposing the lower half of your belly.

You catch a glimpse of Johnny as he fills your navel with red wine, the reassuring look he gives you causing your stage fright to settle. He places his palm on your thigh as he bends over to lick into your navel, his hot tongue lapping up the wine as he sucks it out. Nose pressed to your skin, hot breaths and gentle tickles of his soft bangs.

You try not to squirm, try not to audibly or physically react at the small, but sure amount pleasure it brings. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the pure attraction you have towards Johnny that makes you shudder atop the coffee table, but you keep replaying it in your head in an effort to distinguish which it is.

The days that follow the party have you dizzied with racing thoughts. You’ve gone back to shy glances and hot cheeks when you’re with Johnny.

You blame it on the body shots, or your hormones, one of the two. The constant effort to try and hold off picturing him naked when you’re lazed with him on his beige couch, or when he dances sexily to a commercial jingle in between sitcoms, has you mentally exhausted and physically impatient.

You and Johnny had mutually agreed it was time to tell the boys, picking Taeyong first as he was the least dramatic.

He was ecstatic, he squeezed you both in a warm hug and revealed that he had always quietly hoped you’d end up together somewhere along the line. Yuta, was un-bothered. He teased you for a while about it, but exchanged his amusement for annoyance when he saw Johnny kiss your cheek 5 times in during the length of a single conversation.

Ten found out through Yuta before you could get to him, and sent you a congratulatory text with a laughing emoji that you didn’t further question. Moko didn’t seem to react when you told her, but Doyoung.. Doyoung on the other hand was hugely frustrated by the news.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed excitedly. “Why did it take you two so long? Everyone knew before you did,” he rambled, exasperated. “Because she’s oblivious,” Johnny joked. You chuckled at the recollection and whined as you agreed. The way in which you lovingly gazed at Johnny as he explained how you confessed was enough for Doyoung to drop the nagging and congratulate you with one of his best bottles of wine.

Johnny’s Mother - you think - had the sweetest reaction of all. She immediately invited you two over for dinner and had tears of happiness in her eyes by the end of the night, when he told you he loved you for the first time in his childhood bedroom.

The content feeling in your heart, mixed with the taste of Johnny on your tongue leaves you breathless and lost for words. The comfort of your relationship didn’t leave you any room for uneasiness or second-guesses, your heart was completely full when you were together.

You think it couldn’t get any worse when he takes you for ice-cream on a day where the Sun spontaneously shines in the middle of Winter. The small warmth it provided immediately sparking sales in gelato and sorbet of all colours. The way he giggled as he lapped at the mango sorbet dripping down his hand, the innocence in the act making sexual undertones apparent once the scene played out in your twisted mind.

Or when you gave into his incessant begging and began to teach him guitar, only getting as far as the first few chords of Dream On by Aerosmith before he gave up and kissed you until your lips were sore instead.

Then he surprised you with a picnic blanket under the stars, the chill that the breeze brought almost forcing you two to huddle up together under the soft blanket he brought along.

“Put your arm around me,” you mutter, slightly whiny, “I’m cold.” Johnny chuckles, promptly wrapping a warm arm around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his body and further into his heat. “Mm,” you hum happily, laying your head on his shoulder. He turns his head to watch you instead of the stars, the soft moonlight casting a silvery filter over you skin, your eyes glassy with the brightness.

The small patch of grass beside his apartment building was deserted, no one in their right mind would consider stargazing in the freezing cold, but Johnny didn’t seem to care about what was considered sane when he’s around you.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” He mutters, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You smile, breathless. “Every day,” you move to look into his eyes, the moon casting shadows that accentuate his features. He smiles a toothy grin, almost childlike. “And have I told you how beautiful you are?” You huff playfully at this, “Not nearly enough,” you lay your head on his shoulder again, enjoying the comfortable proximity.

He laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the empty space between the buildings. “I love you too, you know,” you poke at his ribs, causing him to squeak. “I know,” he hums, “Kiss me.”

You lift your head to face him again, smiling amusedly when you see him, eyes closed and lips pursed and waiting for you to lay one on him. You lean forward with a giggle, pressing your cheek to his lips. He makes a smacking sound with his lips as they meet, only to whine in protest when he opens his eyes.

When you poke your tongue out at him he scoffs, his fingers itching to tickle you as he runs them along your sides in an effort to have you gasping for air. You double over in an attempt to get away from his tickles, the boyish laughs that spill from his lips almost distracting you from his incessant fingers. You’re rolled beneath him as you feel your lungs burn with laughter, your adorable giggles keeping him inspired to continue.

“Please! Please!” You beg, laughing. “Stop, Johnny please.” He eventually gives in, watches your laughter die down as you wipe at the outer corners of your eyes where tears have spilled. You wonder if you’ll share this love forever - you and Johnny - as you stare up at him. You tug his hair back out of his face teasingly, and tilt your neck back, lips chasing his in an effort to get him to kiss you.

He smiles at the sight, pressing his lips to yours in a warm kiss that spreads a muted heat throughout the length of your body. Your belly dipping as he frames your face with his soft, tepid hands. It’s you who deepens the kiss, pushing past his ample lips with your tongue in an effort to taste him. He moans softly at the feeling, your hands sliding around his hips as you lick into his mouth. Your breathing has increased with the sensuality of it all, soft pants leaving your lips as he pulls way, gently nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Would you like to come upstairs?” He whispers, breathlessly. You forego the mentioning of his innuendo and nod, butterflies flitting wildly in your belly.

It happens naturally, so naturally that you don’t even pause to think of what a big deal this all is.

Johnny lays you out on his bed, kisses you until you’re whining, begging for more and he complies with an amused smile. He undresses you slowly, pressing warm kisses into your skin that you savour, relishing in the sweetness that naturally pours from him in constant floods.

And then he makes love to you, holds you like you mean the world to him and anchors his hips to yours as he rolls his hips softly. He watches the movements your face makes in reaction to each dip of his hips, his eyes transfixed on the way your mouth gapes as you stare up at him with furrowed brows and awe-filled eyes. When you cum, you nearly sob. He makes you see white, rips your breath from your lungs as he whispers sweet nothings, hot against your ear.

You stroke his hair back for him when he reaches his peak, the scrunch of his nose and little whine he lets out causing a palpitation your heart can’t fight against. As you lay covered in a sheen of sweat under his warm duvet, you forego words in favour of rhythmic hums and synced up breaths.

You fall asleep with his arms around you and his nose against your temple. And you wake in nearly the same way, the only difference is he leaves the bed as soon as he wakes up whereas you slip in and out of consciousness for another ten minutes.

Amidst your laze your mind wanders to the cause of the dull soreness between your thighs. Replaying every sinful moment of delicious delight that ensued the previous night. Johnny’s hips between your legs, his soft moans in your ear and his lips all over your neck.

Goosebumps arise on your skin as you peel back the covers to go look for him, to drag him back to bed so he can fuck you awake, but the chill causes you to recoil with a hiss. “Johnny,” you whine loudly, calling him in your sleep-riddled voice. When he doesn’t answer and you smell toast being made, your question as to where he is in answered. You grit your teeth and bare the cold, peeling yourself out of his room and into his small kitchen, sneaking up behind him.

The towel around his waist accentuates the swell of his behind, the tempting sight offering you an opportunity you just can’t let slip. He gasps as you grab a handful of his flesh, turning slightly as he butters his toast. “Someone’s in a good mood,” he chuckles over the sound of his butter knife scraping against the toast.

You hum, sliding your hands around his middle until they rest on his warm belly. “I want you,” you breathe against his shoulder and he gasps as he feels your hardened buds against the bare skin of his back, your nails lightly pressing into his abdomen. “Can we eat first?” He replies, all traces of previous amusement gone from his voice as he places his toast down.

You trail your hands down the small distance to the fold in his towel, unwrapping it from his waist as you grasp at his hips to turn him to face you. You reach up to press your lips to his, your fingers grasping his jaw as you bask in the scent of his aloe moisturiser. His hands fall to your hips, pressing you close enough where you can feel his hardness steadily swelling against your chilled skin. He steps forward, bending down to slide his hands under your knees until he has you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist.

He brings you to his bedroom, the smell of toast still wafting through the apartment as you smile, happy when you settle in amongst the warm sheets once more. He shuts the door out of habit, coming over to where you’re smiling with his own grin, leaning over to kiss you as he parts your legs by the knee. He presses moist kisses along his way, down your neck, over the swell of your breast and down your belly. Sucking a soft bite into the skin at your hip before he’s kneeling beside the bed. Your thighs on either side of his head as he buries his tongue between your thighs.

You whimper, sighing at the sensitivity as you draw your brows together. Your hips twitch in his grasp and he moans when you grind down on his tongue, gasping at the noise he makes when you tangle your fingers in his hair. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth, suckling over and over until your belly is dipping and you’re whining. He licks over you slowly, dragging his tongue with an elongated hum, as though he’s tasting the most divine fruit and its juices are intoxicating him. He’s drunk off of your taste and you can’t keep quiet, it just feels that damn good.

“What do you want, beautiful?” He hums, brushing sticky lips over the skin of your inner thigh, hushing your cries. “I w-want you,” you exhale through stuttered breath. He rises to your level, kissing you full on the lips until you’re whimpering again and he moves you further up the bed, feeling the way your breaths jump beneath his fingertips, hand around your side beneath your ribs.

With his knees firmly planted on the mattress, he parts your thighs once more, sucking two fingers into his mouth briefly before he’s pressing them to your entrance. You whine as he pushes them forward, slowly filling you with his fingers as he watches you fall apart. “Johnny,” you breathe, upper lip shiny with sweat, heartbeat unsteady, impatient with want. “Need to stretch you,” he mumbles against your lips, drunk on the feeling of you pulsing so incessantly around his fingers.

”I can take it,” you assure him, eyes shiny with determination as you shift your hips and moan as he scissors his fingers. “Don’t wanna hurt you, beautiful,” he sighs and you moan between closed lips as he curls his fingers upwards, your back arching into his touch. “Please,” you sigh helplessly, grinding down on his fingers as they seem to come to a halt.

He moves his hand away, brushing his thumb upwards against your clit before he’s up on his knees, his length bobbing as he moves to grasp it. He moans your name quietly, coaxing his hardness in the palm of his hand as you shift your hips, watching as he presses the tip between your folds. He nudges forward carefully, brows furrowed in concentration and you gasp as you feel the stretch. “Beautiful,” he sighs, resting his head on your shoulder as he slowly fills you up.

He presses his lips to yours once he bottoms out, hushing your whimpers with slow pulls of your lips. Sucking on your tongue and licking at the roof of your mouth until you’re completely relaxed, clenching around him in an effort to get him to move his hips.

You moan, strangled in the back of your throat at the first roll of his hips, your hands flying up to frame his hips, to feel the muscles dance beneath his skin as he moves. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he steadily gains a rhythm, quiet moans and soft sighs of your name as the still of the morning romanticises the sticky noises that relay as he moves his hips.

He had worked you up so quickly, teased you for so long that you already feel that tight pressure in your belly that bleeds white across your vision until you’re dazed. His damp hair falls across his eyes and tickles at your forehead when he kisses you, swallowing the way he pants into your mouth, whispering endlessly about how good you feel around him.

He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, your belly dipping as you feel him press against a spot that has you keening. You gasp, your back arching off the sheets as he grinds his hips. “Johnny,” you pant, pressing your thighs up against his hips in an effort to anchor him there. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you keen, your lips parting in a strained moan. He hums approvingly, voice thick, sex laden and dripping in pleasure. “I’m gonna make you cum?” He asks in another hum, trailing his hand down your side, he swipes his thumb against the base of his cock, collecting the sticky sweet before brushing his thumb against your sensitive bud.

“So sensitive,” he coos lovingly, taking note of how fucked-out you look, blissfully unaware of the world beyond this room. He’s in love with the way your tongue pokes out between you lips to wet them as you pant, the way your hands hold onto him as though you don’t ever want him to leave. He’s in love with you and the way you feel, and everything about you.

You moan our helplessly, in a wanton cry as you let the pleasure wash over you in intoxicating pin-picks, the sound reverberating throughout the quiet morning air. “Let go,” he brushes his lips against yours, “Cum for me, beautiful.” You nod helplessly, gaze darting between his eyes and the sinful sight of where you meet as you whine. Your fingers bunch up the already messy sheets, mouth falling open as you body curls up and suddenly your orgasm washes over you.

You’re gasping for air as Johnny fucks you through it, the hot press of his length bleeding saliva into your mouth as you soak up the euphoria. The feeling of his broad chest brushing against your nipples as he continues to rolls his hips makes you whine, your body moving in tandem to his thrusts as he visibly clenches his jaw and breathes through his nose. He curses your name, hand tight around your hip as he comes in soft pusles of his hips, quiet moans spilling from his mouth. You twitch as he fills you up, lazily pulling at your lips with his teeth as your bodies bask in the aftermath, that hazy glow people are always talking about.

Johnny rolls you over so you’re resting on his chest, and he’s still sheathed deep inside you. You moan lazily at the feeling, sighing softly as he rests against the pillows. His fingers traces up your spine softly, comforting you as you rest the cold tip of your nose against the hot warmth that permiates of the skin of his neck. “Are we staying like this?” You mumble quietly, feeling the vibration through his chest when he hums. “Just for a while,” he mutters, “It’s nice, isn’t it?” He asks and you hum this time. “It is,” you agree, “Feel so close to you,” you sigh.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, nosing along the wet baby hairs along your hairline when you mumble something he doesn’t quite catch. “Hm?” He asks, shifting to watch when you lift your head to speak. “I said i’m sorry about your toast,” you exhale. He grins amusedly, letting a soft huff fall from his lips, “Why? I think I had a healthier breakfast,” he muses and you snort, letting your head fall against his chest once more.