Idk if anon is looking specifically for fluff or smut so:
💫 = fic is lowkey changed my life
homecoming (johnny nct)💫 by @caiuscassiuss
new parent syndrome (namjoon bts) by @1kook
the jorts (jungkook bts) by @gukslut
picking petals (jimin bts) and this drabble by @cutechim
hey mama (jaehyun nct) by @sluttyten
family man (johnny nct) by @thotantics (ofc)
baby, baby (if I remember correctly, jimin and tae bts) by @hobiwonder
everything in you (jungkook bts)💫 by @jjungkookislife
oh, baby (johnny nct) by @aquarius-johnny
eating for two (hoseok bts) 💫 by @johobi
four months (tae bts) by @jjungkookislife
keep talking (tae bts) by @kpopfanfictrash
papillon (tae bts) by @readyplayerhobi (I think this is actually fluff)
peanut (i + ii) (tae bts) by @jungxk
in the mood by (jin bts) @kinktae (op took it way back - 1940s au)
babymoon (win-win nct) by @sluttyten
lovely little mess (jin bts) by @guksheart
@untaemedqueen‘s whole masterlist 😭
dalliance *kinda, if you squint* (hoseok bts) by @sugaurora
lover (namjoon bts) by @r-kived
before i go (doyong nct) by @yutaholic
blue (chanyeol exo) by @yeoldontknow
no guidance (jaehyun nct) by @yutaholic
will you let me? (namjoon bts) by @bratkook
heir (mingyu svt) by @smileysuh
unnamed drabble (seonghwa ateez) by @atozfic
juno (haechan nct) 💫 by @sincerelyneo
babymaker (seungcheol svt) by @onlyseokmins
honorable mentions (idk what floats your boat so here are some out of this world smut fics that are more domestic ig where oc just had a bb and/or idol is a father):
say my name (chanyeol exo) by @yehet-me-up
we got that good love 💫 (kun wayv/nct) by @sluttyten
ROOM 217.
part of the puttin' on the ritz collaboration with @studiosvt
pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader
genre: smut, hotel owner/speakeasy manager x server
summary: fresh starts are hard, but running away from your mafia husband is even harder. after escaping the protection of the lucky ace gang and fleeing to new york city, you find lee jihoon, a reserved yet enigmatic hotel owner. the hotel ruby conceals a popular speakeasy, the velvet ruby, within its walls. it takes some convincing, but jihoon eventually offers you a job, a chance at stability and anonymity. but every swanky hotel has its secrets. when you stumble upon the locked door to room 217, nothing could prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side.
warnings: dom!woozi, power imbalance, a lot of obsession, masturbation, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, slightly inexperienced reader, mentions of family death, reader's husband is in a gang, 1920s gang-related violence, use of pet names (angel), woozi is deeply infatuated with reader but it borders onto an insane level = light stalking, also insane rational on the readers part for woozi's obsession (aka these two are freaks). nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 20.9k
note: this fic is a part of the puttin' on the ritz collab hosted by @studiosvt. the team at @studiosvt were so cool to let me participate again and I had a lot of fun writing freaky hotel owner jioon 😈 this is the second time now I've done a collab with them and I've made the member I got an obsessive freak, not sure if that says something about me but . anywho! make sure you check out the other stories in this collab 💘 (taglist posted at the bottom.)
in rotation: just me and you, the dreamliners / off to the races, lana del rey / love me or leave me, ruth etting / cherry, lana del rey / a little death, the neighbourhood / ruby, woozi
Inheriting the Hotel Ruby from his great grandfather had started out honest. A ritzy, well-known hotel that was in dire need of a upgrade was exactly what Jihoon wanted to get his life back on track. Being born into the Lucky Ace gang hadn’t been easy, but escaping it at the mere age of 21 was a feat in itself. Jihoon had experienced it all: violence, homelessness, grief, until finally coming into money. Why his great grandfather had deemed him worthy enough to include in his will – he had no idea. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He was so sure he was going to make all the money back that was used for renovations, but when the hotel opened around the time of the stock market’s rapid expansion, no one was traveling. No one was wasting their money for flings in a swanky, New York City hotel. Instead, they were pouring their cash into the stock market and hoping for monetary gain. He had a full staff at the hotel, eager for pay, families to feed. He needed the money. In a time of failing businesses and social collapse, Jihoon had nowhere to turn.
This was where the Velvet Ruby came in.
Nestled in a hidden part of the hotel lobby, behind a password protected door, was a speakeasy. Jihoon pulled together the last of his savings, praying for a win, to decorate the old backroom of the hotel into the most swell joint he had ever seen. He had gotten lucky with the location: a speakeasy in an infamous hotel, right in Manhattan, where people were desperate for alcohol … It wasn’t long before the Velvet Ruby was the most popular juice joint for New York’s elite.
Jihoon didn’t want to reach out to old friends, but the only way to smuggle alcohol in was through bootleggers. He typically relied on smugglers from Canada to bring in his moonshine and other popular liquor from distilleries. Using people connected to the Lucky Aces and other gangs, Jihoon created a network of bootleggers so that he never, not once, ran out of alcohol to sell.
With his bartender and partner in crime, Kwon Soonyoung, they ran the Velvet Ruby like the military. Every employee at the hotel was paid fairly, and they even had enough to hire the finest entertainment and several servers that were looking to make a buck. Soonyoung was one of the best cocktail mixers around, and if you were lucky enough, sometimes he got up on the mic to belt out a tune.
The hotel business was steady, but the speakeasy earnings were pulling them through a harsh autumn. Even through the success, Jihoon still had bad days. Days when the music got too loud or the loneliness of leaving his family crept up on him. Sometimes the only warmth he could feel was when he stood outside in the cold rain, inhaling smoke from the cigarette in his gloved fingers, as he watched the light above his hotel flicker.
But if days like this didn’t come up, he probably wouldn’t have met you.
You were standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, when your eyes met his outside the Hotel Ruby. Hair wet and clutching what looked like a torn suitcase, Jihoon stubbed out his cigarette and opened the door for you without a word. You brushed past him, but he could feel you shivering. Water dripped from your coat and onto the plush red carpet, but Jihoon had never been the type to chastise a woman for anything. Not even for ruining his carpet.
He slipped behind the front desk at the lobby because Wonwoo had probably fallen asleep on break. Without looking up from the guest book, he asked, “Looking for a room?”
“Actually, a job.”
Jihoon’s head lifted. The night had shrouded most of your face outside, but now that he was looking at you under the warm lights of the lobby, his body froze. Despite your wet hair clinging to your face, there was a natural beauty about you. Something to be admired. The kind of face that didn’t belong in a seedy city, but somewhere gentle, warm. Your face stood out in a place like New York, where crime and gambling ran rampant.
You weren’t from here.
“We don’t have any positions open at the hotel,” he replied.
“I – I’m n-not –” You stuttered, teeth chattering. The handle of your suitcase shook in your lithe fingers. Voice lowering, you continued, “I’m not asking for a job at the hotel.”
It clicked then, and his brow raised. How did someone like you find out about the speakeasy? He couldn’t dwell on it, not when you had pertinent information. With a cock of his head, he led you into the manager’s office behind the front desk, locked with a golden key. Wonwoo was slumped in a cushioned chair by the door, waking up when the edge hit his foot. Jihoon side-eyed him, and he skedaddled before he could be reprimanded.
Moving the stack of bills to the floor, Jihoon sat down behind the desk and gestured for you to take the seat in front of him. You settled into the chair warily, still shivering, and just the sight of a pretty thing like you suffering made him pause. He stood and rounded the desk, reaching a hand out. You looked up at him with confusion. “Let me help,” he muttered. “Take your jacket off. It’s soaked.”
“O-Oh,” you nodded, sliding the wet material off and handing it over.
Jihoon averted his gaze when he realized your were wearing a white blouse underneath, the line of your undergarments clearly visible beneath the soggy fabric. Clearing his throat, he hung up your jacket before draping an old trench coat over your shoulders that he kept in the closet. You pursed your lips, and he was pretty sure he heard something that resembled, Thank you, sir.
Plopping back down in his chair, the first thing he said was, “You’re not from around here.”
Your mouth opened, but his words caught you off guard. After a beat, you replied, “No. I’m from up north. I took a bus to the city.”
“How did you find out about the Velvet Ruby?”
He was so blunt, his tone like a dagger. You almost didn’t expect it from someone like him. He was broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that spoke to what little sleep he got and slicked-back hair. Two inches shorter than you and smelling like a combination of cigars and expensive cologne, but his words cut sharper than a blade. You hugged the trench coat more on your shoulders.
“It’s because – I’m not –” You exhaled heavily. Your first instinct was to lie – always lie. It had become a habit after you married Han. Rubbing underneath your nose, you decided to be truthful: “I found out because I know the right people. I’m running away from my ex-husband.”
His brow shot up. “Divorced?”
“I don’t have the money to even get divorced. My family is flat. I married up, until I realized …” You smoothed a hand over your tired eyes.
He licked his lips, realizing how much your expression had soured. His back straightened in the chair and he laced his fingers together on the desk. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me, angel.”
The nickname made your gaze flicker to his, and you both let it hang in the air for a moment. The office was so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop. So you cleared your throat. “No,” you muttered, “I probably should.”
He watched your chin fall into your palm, your eyes haunted and somewhere else. Whatever you had experienced left an imprint on you, a bruise that wouldn’t heal. A wave of protectiveness washed over him and he had no clue why. He didn’t know you, didn’t know what you’d been through, but for some reason, he felt the need to crush whoever made you this way.
“Everything okay?” He asked over a long beat of silence.
“I’m trying to fight the urge to lie to you.”
“Oh.”
You finally sat back up, pushing strands of wet hair behind your ear. Your lobe was pointed, something so characteristically you. “My husband’s friend is one of your bootleggers. He sources your gin and rum from Canada. Both him and Han are part of the Lucky Ace gang.”
It dawned on him then – he forgot some of the Lucky Aces reached as far as the north east. They were one of the most spread-out gangs on the eastern part of the U.S., but with the likes of the Chicago Outfit maintaining superiority amongst the crime syndicate, it was hard to believe they were still out there, past the boundary of New York State.
Suddenly, Jihoon felt his breath still. “Han,” he repeated, the name tasting burnt on his tongue. “As in Cheon Han?”
You swallowed, mouth refusing to open.
“Your husband is one of the leaders of Lucky Ace,” he said, though he was sure you knew that from the look on your face. “I grew up with him, until he moved … North.” It was all clicking in his head then: the day they met in elementary school; Jihoon’s 18th birthday when Han revealed he was moving in with his uncle; the night he got the news from his father that “his old friend” had went up in the ranks of Lucky Ace up North, surpassing folks older than him.
“Oh, my god.” He moved his chair back, surprised when it hit the wall. “I can’t hire you. I can’t house you. That’s asking for a death wish.”
“Only if he finds out,” you were quick to say. “I’m not asking for shelter. I got an apartment for myself outside Manhattan. I just need a job to pay for it.”
Jihoon shook his head. “He’ll kill me.”
“Let’s be honest, he never does the killing. One of his torpedos will do it for him.”
He paused, because he knew you were right, and it wasn’t exactly helping your case. You placed a hand on the desk, as if to reach out to him, but your fingers were trembling so much. The tips were red, so warm compared to the rest of your body. When he met your eyes again, they were pleading. “Please,” you said, “I wouldn’t ask for help if I wasn’t desperate. I’m good with customers. I can … I can be a server. I have good balance –”
“All my servers are male. I only hire female dancers.”
Your face fell. “I’m not a dancer. But I can … please. I know you don’t know me, but I’m asking you to take a chance.”
Jihoon stood, his mind swirling with possibilities. He paced in front of the door and ran a hand through his hair. She’s Han’s wife. They’re not even divorced. She’s running away from him. Fucking Christ, if he finds her here, he’s going to kill me –
A hand latched around his wrist. He turned, meeting your eyes.
“He won’t find me,” you promised. “He’s too busy with his deals to ever come home and I planted a seed within his friend group that I was going even further south to see distant relatives. He would never guess I’d be in New York. And if he does …” You looked down, realizing you were still gripping him. His skin was pale and cold, but not as icy as yours. Sucking in a breath, you pulled your hand away. “I’ll make sure I suffer the consequences. Not you. I swear."
It was a gamble. You were a gamble. And he quit betting a long time ago, after a risky night at a underground casino with Soonyoung on his 29th birthday. Jihoon had never been entirely sympathetic, had never let himself be swayed by anybody, and yet … The warmth in your eyes left him stunned. Frightened. Like he could feel the whole world turning on its axis, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He sighed, and then rubbed at his eyes. “The men who come into the joint aren’t kind.”
“I’ve survived my fair share of unkind men.”
“You’d be the only female server. I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a woman.”
“That’s okay. Nothing has ever been easy for me.” You adjusted the coat on your shoulders. “Are you offering me the job?”
He closed his eyes, wondering if he should back out now, but he was already nodding, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Name’s Lee Jihoon. I’ll be your boss.”
“Jihoon,” you repeated, lips pulling into a wide grin. You told him your name, but he decided then that the only name he wanted to call you was angel.
You supposed it didn’t exactly matter what you wore to your first shift, but you planned on being more put together than yesterday. A fresh shower in your new apartment and a couple rollers later, you looked more spiffy than the women having brunch at the Ritz. Your hair was perfectly curled, red smeared onto your lips in a perfect cupid’s bow, and you wore a simple, button-down plum dress. One that you made sure to iron before leaving the apartment.
Jihoon asked you to be on the premises an hour before the speakeasy opened, which was usually around 9 to 10 PM. Naturally, you arrived at 8:45, having just enough time for a cigarette with your hood up. You were on guard these days, never taking a chance to reveal more than half of your face, especially when indulging in your worst habit. After taking one last inhale, you crushed the death stick with the heel of your flat and walked inside the hotel.
You expected to see Jihoon there – behind the front desk, talking to a bellhop, anywhere – but the lobby was empty besides Wonwoo with the guest book. He waved awkwardly to you, looking like a beanstalk in his uniform that hardly fit his long legs. You cowered in on yourself, tucking your hands into your jacket, as you prepared for someone from your past to jump out. Wonwoo was probably looking at you like you lost your marbles.
“Hey, big shot!”
You turned at the loud voice, seeing the back door slam open behind Wonwoo, and the taller male almost jumped out of his skin. Another male with curled dark hair stepped out, just a few inches under Wonwoo, clapping his hands in your direction. He wore a black dress shirt and tie, accompanied by a pair of baggy slacks with the ends tucked into tall, tiger-print socks and leather shoes.
He looked insane, and yet … surprisingly on trend.
When you were within feet of him, he pulled you in by your hand, his grip stronger than you assumed. “Name’s Soonyoung. You’re the new one Jihoon let in, yes?” You nodded, and with your hand still in his, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. His smile was mischievous, but weirdly contagious. “Look at you all dolled up for the first night. As lovely as …” He fingered the collar of your dress and attempted not to grimace. “… This is, you do have a uniform. Which I adapted from what the men wear.”
Wonwoo tossed him a pair of clothes from one of the desk compartments and Soonyoung caught it without missing a beat. He placed the uniform into your arms and spun you around, pointing to the public restrooms. “Change please,” he instructed, although it was more like a demand when he pushed you forward in that direction.
The uniform was tighter than you assumed, but that was a given when you didn’t get anyone your measurements. It still fit, the flared black skirt hugging your waist just right. Soonyoung paired it with a white, collared blouse and an apron that secured around your middle. You hadn’t realized he’d given you an old pair of kitten heels, the leather worn-out at the toe. After slipping on some sheer black tights, you stuck your feet in the shoes and prayed you’d get used to them. You’d never been a pro with heels.
Walking out, Soongyoung sent you smirk of approval before gesturing that you follow him. Wonwoo gave you one last nervous wave, all lanky and long-limbed, before you quickly trailed behind your new tiger-socked friend. He led you down the corridor to the left of the hotel’s entrance, and you noticed the lights getting dimmer the further you got from the lobby. You held your old clothes close to your chest, wary. When you reached the end of the hall, Soonyoung checked you were still behind him and presented the door in front of you both. It was tall and made of iron, with a window slot in the middle that was currently closed. Soonyoung knocked on the door in a specific pattern – two hard knocks, pause, one soft knock, three more hard knocks, slam your palm on the surface – and the window slot opened, revealing a pair of dark eyes.
A whiney voice emerged. “You wanna do that password again for me?”
“Oh, just open the door, Seungcheol!”
The bouncer chuckled, slamming the window shut before tearing the heavy door open. Seungcheol gave you a look as you strode past him, almost tripping in your heels when he winked. Soonyoung looked over his shoulder, glaring at the bouncer, before looping his arm through yours. “Don’t mind him. He’s an ass, but overly friendly. Has a wife at home,” your new friend explained.
Showing you the coat closet, he had you secure your clothes in your own locker before meeting him back out on the speakeasy floor. The joint was small, but clearly prestigious. The lights above where faint and colored in warm tones like yellow and red. Each circular table around the room fit at least four people, decorated with a red velvet tablecloth and a singular rose in the middle. A stage was set up at the front for live entertainment, and you saw a few dancers practicing their routine for tonight. The bar looked new, made out of dark maple and stocked full with every liquor imaginable. This place in fact was the real deal.
Soonyoung raised his arms. “Welcome to the Velvet Ruby.”
“It’s …” You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes scanning the room. “Very dark.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he gabbed, arm laced through yours again as you both flitted about the rooms. “Depending on the crowd, we won’t give you more than three tables. Just because it’s a small amount, doesn’t mean your attention shouldn’t constantly be on them. This is a business and we’re selling liquor. If someone isn’t being bum rushed out of here because their too canned to walk, I’m not doing my job right. You’ll typically find me mixing behind the bar with Seokmin, but don’t be mistaken. It is my bar.”
You nodded. “Noted.”
“Rules of the house,” Soonyoung continued, rounding the corner as they reached the seats at the bar. He held up three fingers. “No violence with patrons. No touching from patrons. And absolutely no questions about past lives.”
You began to nod in agreement when the sound of two bodies hitting each other emanated behind them. Your head spun out of instinct, seeing two of your fellow servers – one, a shorter man with reddish-brown hair and an otter-like smile; the other, a big six with hulking shoulders, strong muscles, and perfect features like wavy, black hair and honeyed skin. They greeted each other loudly, their raised voices making you flinch instantly.
Just a sound could take you back to Han. To the nights you heard him getting scrappy with one of his torpedos, right behind the door of your shared bedroom. To the days he yelled at his right-hand man as you prepared coffee in the kitchen, and then his hand gripping your apron as if to anchor himself to you before he clocked his friend in the kisser.
Han had never been violent with you. Never touched a hair on your head. But to be married to a gangster was to see a threat at every turn. How long would it be until one of his enemies got the upper hand?
“You got the heebie-jeebies or something?” Soonyoung asked, and you whipped your head back to him. But he noticed the look in your eyes, how scattered you were, and with a soft smile, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’ll tell Chan and Mingyu to pipe down.”
You schooled your expression – one of the many skills Han had taught you once he revealed his true identity. Your shoulders squared and you cleared your throat. “I know. I’m just … getting used to being the only female server.”
He laughed. “Yeah, Jihoon kind of set you up for failure with that one. Especially in this city.”
You raised a brow.
“Not that I think you’re going to fail. I’m sure you’re swell. It’s just …” He closed his mouth, realizing that he was going on a tangent. “I should let Jeonghan take over.”
Soonyoung yanked over another tall male with dark hair that reached his shoulders, almost making him drop all the glasses on his tray onto the floor. Jeonghan shook his head at the bartender before introducing himself to you. His slender build was similar to Wonwoo’s, but he wasn’t as broad.
Jeonghan brought you over to one of the tables to explain the basics of serving: how to write out your orders, address customers, and when to exactly cut them off. “The hardest part of being a server isn’t even about interaction,” he explained, and then lifted his full tray of empty glasses on his shoulder. “It’s about learning how to balance. Never, ever, break a glass.”
You nodded, jotting down notes in your server book. Guests were beginning to pour in, but Mingyu and Chan took the lead while Jeonghan showed you the ropes. Businessmen strolled through with women that probably weren’t their wives. Even a few flappers made their presence known, requesting Mingyu as their server specifically for one of the ladies in the friend group. You tried to focus over the noise and be present with Jeonghan, but your eyes couldn’t help but drift around the room, until they finally landed at the corner of the bar.
Jihoon leaned against the edge, a lit cigar between his teeth as he spoke to Soonyoung. And it seemed his eyes were drawn to you too, because only a few seconds later, you were the only thing he could focus on.
Sitting on the cold wooden floor of your apartment, back pressed against the side of the twin-sized bed, you dug out a small box from underneath the frame. One of the little things you made sure to pack before leaving, the gift box was old and torn, the vintage paper from when your mom was a child. You placed it in front of your crossed legs, your work heels discarded just a few feet away. The time was nearing 3 AM and you’d just gotten back from the Velvet Ruby, but your hands were itching for this, for the memories.
Lifting the cover off, you smiled at the pile of rectangular photos from years past. You picked up the first one off the top: an overexposed shot of you and your mother from when you were a child. It was the time you were sick, so she dressed you up in the prettiest clothes and had a photoshoot with you, as if you were her little doll. Your big grin, one tooth missing in the front, a red nose from sniffling. It was a good memory – a really, really good memory.
Your hands pilfered through the family photos: the one of you and your grandparents, your first day working for your parents’ laundromat, your 16th birthday party. Each a crucial part of your childhood. Setting the plethora of memories to the side, you picked up a photo that felt like a lifetime ago: you, leaning against a telephone pole outside, wearing your mother’s old wedding dress that came to your ankles because you were much taller than her. The smile on your face was different, and when you flipped to the next shot, you knew why. It was the day you and Han got married at the courthouse. His hands were in yours, his eyes on you, while you were looking at your father’s camera. The court clerk was in the middle of almost dropping his booklet when the image was captured. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. This was when things were good, when Han was just a customer you met at the laundromat.
You flicked through the photos, noticing the way your eyes changed in each one. As if your fear of the unknown and the weight of being your husband’s moll had made you lose your sparkle. Even in the shot from your first anniversary – which you had taken of both of you, sitting on the beach in some warmer state, albeit on a day where you were so happy – there was something in your smile. The first inklings of uncertainty. Because even on this day – one of your favorite days with him – he had gotten a letter with a threat sent to their hotel room near the beach. And it had become clear then that you might have fallen in love with one of the most dangerous men.
One of the last shots at the bottom was a picture he asked your father to take after the wedding. You both stood in the middle of the courthouse, him holding your wrist as you presented your hand out, the ring on your finger glinting in the lens. Standing on both sides of you were men that you deemed as his friends at the time, unaware that they were his associates in the Lucky Ace gang. Now that the dust had settled, you wondered if you had just been blind, because you most certainly remembered one of them having a shiv in his suit to defend Han at a moment’s notice.
But you didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t need to. Because he hadn’t been truthful with you in the first place.
With a heavy exhale, you buried all the photos of Han to the bottom of the box. You couldn’t dwell on the past or else you’d be filled with dread. Reaching into your apron, you pulled out a new addition for your collection: a photo Jihoon had requested to be taken of him all his staff at the Velvet Ruby. This photo spoke of new beginnings, one where you’d stop being afraid of what would happen next. Because you were protected here; everyone promised you that.
In the photo, Soonyoung was standing to Jihoon’s left, one arm around him while holding up his other hand, curled like a cat’s paw. Beside him was Chan and Mingyu, and then Jeonghan with Seungcheol on the corner. On the other side were a few servers you had been introduced to that day – Vernon and Minghao – both sporting the same unamused expression, with the other bartender, Seokmin. You were standing to the right of Jihoon, lips pulled into a soft smile while his arm slipped around your waist, yet hovering. Your heels made you feel like a tower next to him, but he was still the most important, confident man in the room.
When he had given you the photo a few days later, you assumed it was because this was one of the damaged copies. The brightness of the image, the way Mingyu was mid-talking to Chan. But still, you couldn’t help to ask, “Why are you giving me this?”
“I like having pictures. They’re a good memento.” He tapped his finger against the flimsy paper before meeting your gaze. “And I want you to have a good memory. To show you that there will always be a place where you will be safe.”
It took a couple weeks to get into the swing of things, but it felt like you had finally established yourself in a new place. And you did it on your own. You didn’t flinch anymore at sudden footsteps and raised voices, although you did have to tell Mingyu to shut it every once in a while. You slowly got the hang of serving and attending to wealthy patrons, even picked up a few regulars that came by at least once a week. Much to your excitement, they were mostly women – a group of flappers looking to gossip about their dates or dance to whatever live band Jihoon hired that night.
As it turned out, working in such an energetic place was great exposure therapy.
Jihoon checked in on you regularly: before close, when you hung out by yourself at the bar. He’d meet you outside when you had a cigarette on your break. He asked you questions no one else did: Where do you see yourself in 10 years? Is everyone treating you well? Are you happy? Sometimes, he’d walk with you to the bus station, wait beside you until it came, and when you asked him why, he’d be so nonchalant.
“This is on my way home anyway,” he’d say.
And you’d tilt your head. “The bus station?”
“Yes, I live … just over yonder,” he explained with an awkward wave of his hand. “I should get going.”
Your apartment could be scary at times, especially for a woman living on your own. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the day – since you worked long into the early morning hours – hearing your neighbors argue over the price of milk. Insistent door knocking startled you before it became clear that no one was at your door at all; they were downstairs. Every loud noise outside your window sounded like a gunshot at first, until you realized that it wasn’t. It was just the kids on the sidewalk playing with wooden blocks.
But you found solace at the Velvet Ruby – in a routine, in seeing your coworkers. Your friends. They were kind and made you laugh, the happiness returning to your eyes again. With them, you were safe.
Jihoon made you feel safe.
And then, December 1st came.
Soonyoung was keeping you at the bar as he slowly made two Gin Rickeys for one of your tables. The drink was simple – club soda, lime juice, and of course, gin – but he had a better time holding you hostage there with a story from last night, which he told rather exuberantly. “And there I was, wearing my favorite socks – you know, the ones with the tiger pattern?” He asked, giving you no time to nod before he was continuing. “I was cleaning up the bar when Laurie – you know her? One of the hoofers Jihoon hired to come dance every week? Dark hair, big brown eyes. Anyway, she comes up to me –”
You watched him gradually poor the lime juice into both glasses before looking over your shoulder to see your patrons bored of their minds. Not even the pianist on stage could keep their attention.
“– And she wants to see me past work hours. Complimented my socks and everything. Didn’t realize someone had a crush. Isn’t that just the bee’s knees?” He slapped the top of your hand, making you swing back to him. “Are you even listening?”
You blinked. “Oh, um – Laurie’s stuck on you. Anything else?”
Soonyoung glared at you and poured a shot of gin into each glass. “Maybe I should ask her on a date next time I see her. What do you think?”
“Well, do you like her?” Your eyes slid to the right, where Jihoon stood in the corner of the joint. He put a cigar to his lips while Seungcheol whispered something in his ear, and then his gaze was on yours, making the hairs on your arm stand up. For what reason – you had no idea. Yet.
“She’s pretty.”
You flickered back to Soonyoung. “Then you should go on a date with her.” Your hands wrapped around the two Gin Rickeys. “If you’ll excuse me, my table is about to fall asleep if I don’t get these to them.”
You turned, foot coming out to step forward, when two people breezed past you and you almost forgot to breathe. It was a man with a woman on his arm, and his face … it was something out of a nightmare, out of one of the pictures you had looked at weeks ago. But it couldn’t be him. Minho never let his hair grow that long, and he swore he’d never leave Han’s side, not even for a vacation. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.
Minho was one of your husband’s enforcers in Lucky Ace, his right-hand man for all problems. A shield, but also a brother to him if he needed it. Which meant he was a brother to you too – however, you never let him get close enough. You kept Minho at an arm’s length, a hard task given the fact that he was almost always with your husband. Except for right now. If that was him.
Most likely, it wasn’t. But what if it was?
This had to be your anxiety talking and you weren’t going to let it win today. Not after all the progress you made. You avoided the table he sat and thanked your lucky stars that you didn’t have to be their server. Pulling Mingyu away from one of his regulars – a blonde flapper named Kallie, who skirted around the rule of not touching the wait staff with lingering caresses and eyes that spoke trouble – you informed him to not let you near that table under any circumstances. Typically, Mingyu would crack at joke in this moment, but when he saw the serious look in your eyes, he knew this was important.
Keeping your face turned away from his table was harder than you assumed, but when it was finally nearing closing and you were getting back your last check of the night, you thought maybe you survived. Maybe you could sneak a peak now to see if it really was Minho. You just had to swing by the bar and drop off this money –
A warm palm latched around your arm.
Eyes wide, you turned, seeing Minho so plastered that his Old Fashioned was sloshing over the sides of the glass in his hand. You were petrified, body going ice cold. Because it was him – it was fucking Minho. In the flesh. Right before your eyes. His hand feeling like an iron brand on your bicep, as if he could burn through your blouse.
What was he doing here? How did he find you? Did Han set him up to this –
“H-Hey,” he slurred, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. The woman beside him was tugging on his arm and begging to leave. “Don’t I know … know you from sssssomewhere?”
“I – I –” The words were clogging in your throat. You tried to tug your arm free, but he wouldn’t let go. Oh, my god – he wasn’t going to let go. He was going to take you back to Han and the woman with him was just a ploy and – fuckfuckfuck –
“No touching my servers.”
Your arm was yanked free by a strong arm suddenly appearing on your left. Stumbling back, you caught yourself on the edge of a table as you recognized the back of Jihoon’s head. He was smacking away Minho’s hand, roughly grabbing him by the collar before he could even look in your direction again. Soonyoung was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shielding you from the scene.
You heard the scuffle behind you, and you turned your head just enough to see Jihoon bum rushing Minho out of the speakeasy with Seungcheol on his right. They were both yanking on Minho’s flailing arms, ignoring his drunken shouting, while the woman on his arm sprinted after them.
The Velvet Ruby shut its doors for the night and instead of cleaning, Soonyoung insisted that you take a breather. You found his small pantry nestled behind the bar, the entry marked off by just a velvet curtain. This was where he stored all the extra liquor, where bootleggers met Jihoon with their latest shipments. You sat on the steel table by the wall, your legs dangling off the edge, and you took a few deep breaths. Realizing your pantyhose had a few tears in them, you sighed. Sleep was already creeping up on you, but there was still so much left to do. You should offer to mop the floors, clean up behind the stage, and yet …
The curtain swung open, and Jihoon closed it quickly behind him. “Are you doing okay?” He asked while striding up. His tone was detached, but it was his words that spoke to how much he cared.
You didn’t answer, only nodded your head.
“Are you fighting the urge to lie to me again?”
You blinked a few times, his words making a tremor run through you. “I guess I was. Unintentionally, at least.” You looked back down at your legs swinging and gripped the edge of the table. Anywhere but his eyes. Sometimes you wondered if he could see right through you.
A moment of silence passed. Jihoon clicked his tongue. “So did you … know those two people?”
He was trying to pry you open, read through you like the Sunday paper. But you couldn’t let him. The less people who got in your shit, the better. It was for his own good. He was the one who almost didn’t hire you because he was scared of Han in the first place.
“You have to let me in at some point,” he whispered, softer this time. Intimacy laced in his tone and invited you in. He then snickered under his breath. “You got me all balled up over this. I probably just threw out someone who gave me good business –”
“He knows Han,” you confessed. “I don’t know who the woman was.”
Jihoon stuck his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “I see.”
You chewed on your bottom lip. Was the tear in your tights getting bigger or were you finally seeing things? “I didn’t think it was him at first, but … he saw me. What if he goes back and tells Han? What if –”
“He was too tanked to see, and he won’t remember anything now either.”
Slowly, you lifted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were so dark that you swore you could drown in them. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it, angel.” He loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. Your stare drifted to his forearms, admiring the veins that led up to his knuckles, which you realized were now … red, bruised. Both of his hands were. “Do you trust me?”
His words rang through you, causing your gaze to flicker up to his again. After a moment, you nodded. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.
He stepped closer, the fabric of his expensive pants rubbing against your ruined pantyhose. “I think its best if we establish a plan. If someone asks for you, how should I respond?”
Your hands started to shake, knuckles turning white as you clutched the edge of the table. Looking to your feet, you realized how little you thought this through. Your plan had cracks. You hoped it wouldn’t get to a point where you had to worry about this happening. “I … I don’t know. Say you don’t know me. Say …”
He placed a reassuring hand on top of yours. Your eyes slowly slid to the right, realizing that his hands were bigger than you assumed, prominent veins and scars etched into his skin. His palm was warm, and one of your fingers couldn’t help but twitch.
He squeezed your hand. You squeezed back.
“A cup of Joe or tea?”
Your head swung up. He was that much closer, his hand not leaving yours. Cocking your head to the side, you answered, “Tea. Why?”
A smile flashed on his plump lips. “I figured that was easier than the hard stuff. Morning person or night owl?”
“I used to be a morning person.” Your lips pursed as his gaze burned into yours. “But these days, I think I prefer the night.”
You noticed the way he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he shivered. But he let go of your hand before you could feel it.
“Are you comfortable here?” His voice was so smooth, like dark chocolate melting in your mouth. After a beat, he added, “With me?”
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip for a moment, and you notice Jihoon’s eyes move down, ogling you like a painting. Finally, you uttered, “Yes.”
“Good.”
He was in your space now, so close you could inhale his cologne that he probably bought from Lord & Taylor. Or maybe he had it custom. He smelled like firewood and something so inherently masculine, stabling you. A hint of cigar smoke lingered on his collar. He placed his palms on the steel table, thumbs just barely brushing against your hips, as he leaned into you, meeting you at your eye level.
“Tell me,” he continued, “is it worse to be trapped by someone who has feelings for you, or hunted by someone who doesn’t?”
You arched a brow. “We’re back to the hard ones now.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I think …” Pausing, you debated your answer, even though you knew it instantly. Maybe you wanted to make him sweat a little. “I would rather be trapped. Better to be trapped and unharmed than hunted.”
Jihoon’s tongue darted out from the corner of his mouth, slowly dragging over his bottom lip. Your answer obviously unfurled him, making his body tense as he stood there and questioned his next move. Your stares connected, but both of you were completely frozen. “You know you can leave at any time, yes?”
You nodded. “I know.”
Time stilled, the small pantry seemingly warmer than usual as Jihoon inched forward. You were white knuckling the table again, but you weren’t moving away. Because maybe … just maybe, you wanted Jihoon to kiss you. And would that be so bad? To have just a modicum of happiness, only for a moment, with his lips agains yours? Or maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should lean back and say, “Bank’s closed,” like your friends used to in your single days.
But that was like torture. Moving away from him felt like a curse.
Just as you leaned in, he cleared his throat, stepping back. Both realizing just what you were about to do, your bodies went rigid again. Your cheeks flushed bright red while he rubbed a finger over his top lip. He had never shied away from eye contact with you, but now … he was avoiding you like a disease.
“Let me go get your coat,” he said, already heading for the curtain. “You don’t have to stick around to clean tonight.”
You opened your mouth, wanting to say anything. Even if it was the first thought that came to your head. But Jihoon had already vanished, the curtain swinging in his wake.
December came and went. The winter months were slowing blurring into each other. You were looking forward to the warm comfort of your bed after a long night at the Velvet Ruby. Once the doors had closed, you had to clean up the huge puddle of a spilt beer pitcher by a clumsy patron and his wife. Your knees burned and there were blisters on your feet; you just wanted to be curled up under your blankets before drifting off to sleep. Dragging yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hearing your neighbors arguing at 2 o’clock in the morning, you groaned and stuck your key in the lock.
But your door wouldn’t budge. The lock had been changed.
You looked up, seeing a folded up paper with a coffee stain on the corner. Once you opened the note, you read the words, RENT LATE. PAY OR MOVE OUT, in your landlord’s messy handwriting. A heavy exhale filtered through your lips as you pressed your back against the door, sliding down to the carpet. The same carpet that probably had bugs in it, but you were so tired right now that you didn’t care. Your head fell into your hands as your lack of sleep took over. You didn’t want to doze off out here – absolutely not – but your landlord was surely asleep right now and you wouldn’t be able to pay him until morning.
There was only one option for you.
Using the only change in your pocket, you hauled a taxi and gave the driver instructions to the place you knew best. The taxi pulled up the double doors of the Hotel Ruby, the blinking red sign out front casting a glow on the cab’s interior. You handed the driver your change before stepping out, quickly rushing in to escape the falling snow and giving the doorman, Joshua, a kind smile. He looked confused to see you back, but didn’t question much these days.
You expected to see Wonwoo lounging behind the front desk as usual, but you froze when you realized Jihoon was organizing the mess his regular employee always left there. Jihoon didn’t work here often; he typically stayed in his office or slept in his bedroom connected to it. His mind must be running. What other reason would someone be organizing this late?
Sensing your presence by the door, he finally looked up. A smile curled at his lips, and then fell, realizing that there probably wasn’t a good reason for you to be here after your shift. He said your name, so soft, and then asked, “What’s eating you? I thought you left for the bus an hour ago.”
“I did,” you replied, shaking the snow off your hair. “But I …” You wrung your hands out in front of you. “I must’ve forgot to pay my rent this month, so my landlord changed the locks. Obviously, I can’t reach him until he wakes up, so I was hoping … I could stay in a room tonight.”
Jihoon blinked, studying the red blush on your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was from the cold or your own nerves.
“I could pay, if you need me to. Or you could take it out of my paycheck. That would be easier. Used my last clam for a taxi here.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I realize that this might be unethical –”
“It is entirely unethical,” Jihoon finished with a straight face. And then, he smiled again, smoothing back a stray hair that had slipped from his slicked back strands. The bags under his eyes became more prominent. “I don’t usually let employees stay. If I let one, then everybody’s got a chance.”
This was mortifying. You felt like cowering in on yourself, sticking your hands in your pockets and pretending you were never here. “I understand.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he chuckled low, stretching out his arms over the edge of the front desk. His sleeves were rolled up, despite the chill from the door, the veins that ran from his wrists protruding and making you even more flushed. “I can make an exception for you, angel. As long as you keep my secrets.”
You were glowing now, a huge grin on your face. “Your secrets are always safe with me.”
“I know they are,” he snickered, and then called over one of the bellhops bringing a cart to the lobby. “Jun, can you bring her to any of the available rooms for tonight? Any floor. I don’t care. Use the universal key.”
Jun nodded, leading you to the elevator just off from the lobby. You looked over your shoulder, giving Jihoon a soft smile and a wave, before catching up to Jun. Jihoon simply watched you go, but you managed to catch his front teeth bite into his lip as you rounded the corner, and a familiar warmth pooled in your stomach.
Opening the lattice metal door, Jun escorted you inside the intricate elevator and told the lift boy, Seungkwan, to take you both to the second floor. “Nobody typically stays on that floor,” Jun said to you, filling the awkward silence. “Maybe it’s because the rooms are a little more drab. Not sure. But they’ll definitely be one available.”
The elevator stopped on the second floor and Seungkwan pulled the door open, tipping his hat as you left. You couldn’t help but ogle him, because he had the kind of look in his eyes that said, I know things you don’t. You couldn’t imagine the type of things he saw on a daily basis, the type of people he caught switching floors.
Jun twirled the shiny golden key in his hand, which you guessed opened every door in this hotel. The power he felt like he held right now was immense. He whistled under his breath, swinging his finger left and then right, as he decided which room to choose. Finally, he stopped by room 214, at the far end of the hall.
“Good with you?” Jun asked, peering over his shoulder.
You nodded. “As long as the heat works.”
His laugh was so low you almost didn’t hear it. As he fumbled with the key, you looked to the right and squinted, wondering if you were seeing things correctly. There was a room at the end of a corridor. Marked as room 217. It looked almost out of place, like a mirage. Why would the second floor end on an odd number for rooms? It just didn’t seem right.
When he finally stuck the key in the lock, you asked, “Does this floor really end on an odd number?” You pointed to the right.
Jun followed your finger. “You mean 217? Yeah, only floor that does, I believe.”
You were still perplexed. Was he incapable of offering any more information, or was it just you who thought this was strange? “Must be the biggest room on this floor,” you continued as he turned the key, “because its in the corner. Right?”
Jun shrugged, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. A blast of warm air hit your cheeks as he turned to face you. “I wouldn’t know. No one is allowed in there.”
Your brow knitted together, but he was still holding open the door, looking at you as if you were the bird in this situation. Why was no one allowed in that room? Was it never available for people to stay in? You walked forward, into the room, and shed off your coat. When you spun back to view at Jun, you opened your mouth to ask him another question, but he interrupted you.
“Can you butt me, doll?” He held out his hand. “I ran out of cigarettes.”
Your face fell. With a glare, you shut the door in his face.
Your bag accidentally whacked a shoulder on your way inside the hotel, and you looked to your left to apologize. Recognizing the photographer that had taken the pictures of the speakeasy staff nearly a month ago, you waved and blurted a couple thousand sorry’s before heading to the secret entrance for the speakeasy. You had noticed that photographer lingering around the hotel for weeks, but no one seemed to question it so you wondered if maybe you were the odd one out. Eventually, you brought it up to Joshua, since he saw most of the comings and goings of the hotel.
“Oh, him?” Joshua rubbed the back of neck. “Think Jihoon told me that he’s here to take photos of the hotel for advertisements.”
There was a hint of a question in Joshua’s tone, telling you that even he didn’t understand the reason for the photographer. He was just always around. Sometimes when you looked a certain way, he was right there, loitering in the lobby with his camera glued to his hands.
Maybe you were seeing things. Maybe he wasn’t here as often as you thought. You were having trouble falling asleep these days.
When you closed your eyes, sometimes you thought about room 217. It still baffled you; its presence haunting your mind like a ghost. A couple times, you took the elevator up to the second floor just to go see it, the secret of your visits staying between you and Seungkwan. You tried the knob once, and when it wouldn’t budge, you jumped back as if it burned you. This was crazy – you were crazy. Sleep deprived even. You should not care so much about this, but nearly a week after the late rent incident – which you did make up for, thankfully – you found yourself thinking about this room over and over again.
Nobody typically stays on that floor. No one is allowed in there.
Jun was going to be as helpful as a chocolate teapot, and you assumed that most people didn’t know or care much about a locked room anyway. You could ask Jihoon, but … something told you that you might not get the answers you wanted. And maybe what you actually needed to know was more about the elusive hotel owner first. Perhaps that could crack the secrets of 217, and truthfully … you were still a little embarrassed after your almost kiss to be alone with him again.
So you went to Soonyoung.
As the staff was preparing for the Saturday night rush, you dropped off your coat at your locker before stalking up to your favorite bartender. He was drying off glasses, fresh from a wash, and you noticed that he had smudged some black eyeliner on his waterline. Conveniently, Laurie was dancing tonight. It didn’t take an idiot to put two and two together.
“Level with me,” you said to him, lacing your hands on the edge of the bar.
Soonyoung glanced up with a wide grin. “Okay, big shot. What do you need from me?”
You had him right where you wanted him. Soonyoung was always willing to gossip.
“I have some questions about Jihoon,” you proposed, “but I’m just too scared to ask him. I know he’s busy and I don’t want him to have to recall any bad memories. I’m just … curious.”
“Well, now you got me curious. Shoot.”
You started off easy, asking him how the Hotel Ruby came to be. Soonyoung explained that Jihoon had inherited it by his great grandfather on his mom’s side that he almost never spoke to. Nobody ever understood why he had been written down in the will. Jihoon once thought that maybe his grandfather’s handwriting had been so bad that they just assumed the name was his. But he had been grateful, because inheriting this hotel had pulled him out of a series of bad events.
“After he modernized the hotel, he realized no one was coming to stay because of all that stock market bull, which was when he approached me about running the Velvet Ruby together,” he went on. “I was his first friend in the city, so it only made sense for us to become business partners. It’s proven to be his most successful venture, but I supposed anything is better than what he ran away from years ago.”
You raised a brow. “And what was that exactly?”
Soonyoung scratched the side of his head. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you everything …”
“Who am I going to tell? I only talk to you.”
He set down one of the dry glasses. “You make a great point.” He exhaled heavily, wrinkling his small nose, before continuing, “He was born into the Lucky Ace gang. His father was some big leader in it. I’m sure he’s mentioned this in passing, right?”
It all made sense now. Upon your first meeting, Jihoon had known your husband, even mentioned growing up with him. But you didn’t expect this: that he had once been part of the gang that you had somehow married yourself into. Just like his mother.
You schooled your expression and played along, hoping to get more out of Soonyoung. “I believe I heard it once. So he ran away from the Lucky Aces?”
Nodding, Soonyoung replied, “He only told me about it once, so I could be misremembering. He had some huge brawl with his father after his mother’s funeral, and then he stole his father’s car, drove it to the bus station, and got a one way ticket for the city. His father had sent for him, tried to get him to come back, but eventually stopped trying because he wanted his son to suffer on his own. Jihoon had been determined to never set foot near the Lucky Aces again, even put himself through poverty and lived on the street. Until he came into his great grandfather’s wealth. Guess he kept the luck from the Lucky Aces after all.”
“Has he ever talked to you about Cheon Han?”
He set a couple clean glasses on the racks behind him, thinking, and then shook his head. “Not really. Heard the name pop up once or twice. Said he was a good friend from home, but obviously not anymore. In fact, he actually mentioned that name again recently. I overheard Jihoon say it to Seungcheol and gave his description, told him to never let him in the bar under any circumstances.” His eyes slid to yours. “How do you know that name?”
You blinked, trying to keep your composure. “I thought we agreed on absolutely no questions about past lives.”
Soonyoung’s lips slowly curled into a cat-like smile. “Oh, horsefeathers! Look at you. Making me remember my own rules.”
You shrugged nonchalantly at his compliment, even though your brain was screaming at the new information you just received. Jihoon had known Han. Jihoon had been involved with the Lucky Ace gang. He probably still had low-risk friends in the gang, which was why one of Han’s friends was one of his bootlegger’s. This was almost unbelievable. You were more connected to him than you ever imagined.
“Do you …” Using the tip of your finger, you traced senseless circles onto the dark wood of the bar. “Do you know anything about room 217?”
He didn’t answer. Your eyes flickered back up and you realized his body was frozen, his gaze locked on the glass he’d been drying for longer than usual. After what felt like several minutes, his stare met yours. “You know about room 217?”
“Well … not exactly.” You were playing with your hands now, the nerves slowly creeping in. It was important that you stayed impassive during this conversation, but your true colors were starting to show. “I just … I just saw it when I had to stay the night here last week. That’s all.”
“You’ve never been inside it?”
You shook your head.
“Oh.” His shoulders immediately relaxed, and he turned his back to you while putting away more glasses. He made sure he wasn’t looking at you as he said, “I don’t know anything about it.”
Your brow raised. “Really?”
“I know what everyone else does: Jihoon doesn’t let anyone stay in that room.” He spun back again, his shrug the picture of disinterest. “Maybe it’s haunted.”
After that unproductive conversation with Soonyoung, you decided that it was probably best to give up on finding out the secrets of the mysterious room. Clearly, no one had an inkling of knowledge about it, and the ones that did weren’t going to budge so easily. You knew it wasn’t the truth, but maybe it was just haunted. Every old hotel had one.
If you looked into it more, you would find out things that might hurt you. Things that might ruin the picture perfect image you had of everyone in this hotel. The place that had become your safe space.
So you gave up. For now.
February was treating you nicely. Jihoon had added an extra nickel to your weekly paycheck and put more tables in the speakeasy to accommodate the growing crowd on weekends. This Saturday was no less busy than the last, especially with Laurie’s growing fame. She was even looking into managers now to try to further her career, past the small stage of the Velvet Ruby, but she never forgot about Soonyoung. He still met her behind the curtain during her intermissions, doing who knows what. You were grateful to not know.
The joint was filled with male patrons tonight and the usual flapper group in the corner. Dollar bills were thrown on stage, and there was a particular table near the back that was especially rowdy, engaging in a loud bull session with each other over the music. This was your worst nightmare, so when you asked Mingyu to cover for you while you went on a smoke break, he agreed without question. If anyone could handle a table like that, it was him.
Some would say it was idiotic to make your way outside for a cigarette, especially in this weather, but it was a habit that you weren’t keen on breaking just yet. Slipping past Seungcheol and heading for the main lobby of the hotel, you pulled your cigarettes out of your apron, stuck one between your lips, and adjusted the tie in the back. Shouting emerged the closer you got to the lobby, making your brow crease. It was only when you reached the threshold that it all became clear.
The unlit cigarette dropped from your mouth.
Cheon Han was being held back by two of his friends – not Minho; you didn’t recognize these ones – while trying to swipe a knife in Jihoon’s face. Must’ve been a shiv he borrowed from one of his associates. Jihoon’s arm was out to shield his face, while Wonwoo was at his side to bite the bullet, if it came to that. Jun was on Jihoon’s right, looking utterly clueless and downright terrified, with his bellhop hat crooked and his fists in the air. As if that was going to do anything.
“Han.” The name slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.
Your husband’s face whipped to yours immediately. His eyes were bloodshot and his body froze. Even his associates recognized you, but they looked like strangers in your wide-eyed gaze. A few long strands of hair escape from his signature slicked hairstyle, falling onto his distressed forehead. His nose scrunched as he took in your appearance. A uniform. A server. You worked here.
The knife dropped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.
But he was furious. His eyes blazed with a fiery intensity as he shouted, “Did you think I wouldn’t know where to look?! I have friends everywhere. You really thought you could run away from our marriage and I wouldn’t find you? You slay me. Really, that’s funny, doll.”
Your hands balled into fists. Han was seething with rage, while Jihoon was staring at you, not sure what to do. “Our marriage was built on a lie!” You exclaimed. “You know it was. You never told me – not once – until after we were married about what you were. What I would be putting at risk by being married to you – my life, my family. I didn’t want to be some moll, Han!”
“Oh, this is such bull.” He let out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. His associates slowly let go of him and pocketed the shiv. Han looked back at you, and before you could blink, he was advancing. “Come on now, doll. Let’s stop playing around and go home.”
He was within a foot of you when Jihoon blocked his path, using himself as a human shield. Wonwoo and Jun watched with hesitation, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Jihoon stood tall, even if he was shorter than you than usual when you were in these heels. He was broad and his muscles bulged from the rolled up sleeves of his black dress shirt. His brows were narrowed as he said, voice low and menacing, “She’s not going anywhere with you. Beat it, Cheon.”
Han’s teeth gritted, his whole body shaking from the rage flooding through him. The same rage he showed his soldiers when they fell out of line. And he was leveling it towards Jihoon. “She’s mine,” he growled.
Your husband had never been violent with you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t possessive.
“Not anymore,” Jihoon replied. His tone was surprisingly calm despite the situation.
“Han,” you called, letting your voice take on the velvety tone you used to have with him. His eyes went yours instantly, softening slightly with recollection, before he remembered how pissed off he was that you ran away and some pill was standing between him and his girl. You licked your lips and said, “You should leave. I’m not going home with you. This marriage is over.”
Jihoon snickered. “You heard her.”
His brow knitted together in frustration. “We’ll see about that.” Nodding to his associates, he turned on the heel of his boot and muttered. “Let’s go. We’ll be back around.” Han’s glare met yours. “I’m not leaving without my wife.”
Once the lobby was clear, Jun ran to tell Joshua to not let those men anywhere near the doors of the hotel again. They locked it from the inside, making sure to only allow in current guests and speakeasy customers leaving the building. Wonwoo headed to the front desk, phoning for the police immediately. (Specifically, the only officer they trusted who didn’t rat Jihoon out over the speakeasy.) Lucky for him, he hired good people who took care of the hard stuff without him asking.
He turned to you behind him, seeing your body start to crumble with the awareness of what just transpired. Hooking his arms through yours, he cooed, “Angel, no. It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”
As the sobs began to rack through you, Jihoon used his strength to help guide you out of the lobby. He motioned for Wonwoo to take care of talking to the investigator, hoping that with a thorough description, they would be able to do something. Anything. But he stopped trusting those bulls a long time ago.
He led you to the laundry room just off from the lobby. He gestured for the two maids occupying the space to leave, and they followed his orders with a bow of their heads. Letting go of you, he allowed your back to slide against the wall until you were sitting on the cold stone floor. He sighed before taking the spot next to you.
You rubbed at your eyes and sniffled. “I knew this would happen.”
“It couldn’t have been that drunk fool that told him.”
You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s here. He found me. Right when I started to feel safe.”
“Angel,” his voice was so gentle when your nickname rolled off his tongue. His fingers were on your chin, turning your tear-streaked face to his. “You are safe here. I’m not going to let him take you.”
“I know I said before that I would make sure I suffer the consequences if you got found with me,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes again, “but now I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to leave. And what if he kills you?”
Jihoon smirked. “One of his torpedos will do it for him, remember?”
A chuckle emerged under your breath, recalling the words you said to him months ago. You shook your head looked down to his lap, where his free hand was twitching, as if he was fighting himself not to touch you.
Lifting your eyes to his again, you felt his thumb swipe under them, catching the tears. “Jihoon, why do you care so much about protecting me?”
“Because,” he whispered, and then stopped himself. He bit his lip, unable to come up with anything that didn’t sound like a lie. “Because I …” His hand fell from your face.
So you grabbed it, placing your palm on top of his. His hand was warm and soft, despite the callouses that were constantly on his knuckles. “You don’t need to explain yourself,” you murmured. “I overstepped.”
“No, no, you didn’t. I …” He exhaled, annoyed more with himself than anything. Running a nervous hand through his dark hair, his gaze lifted to yours. You were sure that he had galaxies in his eyes. “Your marriage with Han … it was always a lie?”
You paused, chewing on your lip. Your hand on his was like an anchor, wondering how much you wanted to reveal. But if you had gotten this far, trusted him this much … maybe it was worth finally divulging.
“It started in a place like this.” Your fingers slipped from his, gesturing to the electric washers and washboards littered throughout the small room. “I worked at my family’s laundromat since I was 8. My whole life had always been school, then work. And when school was finally over, my life had become just … work. Washing and drying. Tending to the wealthy’s clothes and praying I didn’t ruin them. My fingers permanently pruned. But I digress.” You huffed longingly. “Han had come in one day to get a mark out of his suit. He was the berries, looking like he worked on Wall Street or something. I remember making sure I really got that stain out, and he was so kind when I gave it back. He proceeded to come back everyday, sometimes asking to wash a garment regardless if it was dirty or not.”
You shrugged and added, “I didn’t even realize he was carrying a torch for me until he asked me to dinner. I said, ‘Yes,’ because, well … who wouldn’t? He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.” Your eyes casted down, fingers picking at the widening hole in your pantyhose. “We went on a solid five dates before he asked for my hand. It was all very fast, and I told him I had to think about it because I didn’t know him. I wanted to say no, see if he wanted to continue to date, but … my family. They encouraged me to agree. We needed the money and Han would provide whatever we wanted. It just made sense.
“So, I said, ‘Yes,’ again to Han. After the wedding was when I found out.” You thought back to those photos at the courthouse, how you’d been standing so close to all his right-hand men. “All those boys that I thought were his friends … days later, I learned they were his associates and soldiers. He didn’t tell me anything until after the ring was on my finger, said he was scared I would judge him or say, ‘No.’ Said he loved me and didn’t want us to change. And I believed it wouldn’t … for a while. But when your life starts to get threaten, you begin to realize just what you got yourself into.”
You turned your head, your haunted stare meeting his, and you realized just how close Jihoon was. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“And do you still?” He asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Love him, I mean.”
You curled your legs to your chest, smoothing your skirt over your knees and playing with the hem. Eventually, you replied, “I love the memories.”
A beat passed, and then his palm slid on top of yours on your knee. His hands were partly cold, but you didn’t have it in you to move away. Not now. Not ever. You watched as his fingers squeezed yours, thumb running over your knuckles.
“I’m going to secure the perimeter of the hotel,” he promised, “and you can stay here until you feel safe.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me charity –”
“Angel,” he chastised with a shake of his head, “it’s not charity. I’ve never been that altruistic.”
He gave your hand one last squeeze, leaning in just enough for you to think something might happen, but he was getting to his feet. His shiny Oxfords were such a contrast against the speckled stone floor. When you lifted your head, you found him lingering by the doorway. With a lazy smile, he muttered, “Sometimes love is enough.”
You blinked at him, wondering if you heard him correctly. Maybe you were overthinking, because Lee Jihoon couldn’t have meant what you thought he just did. He barely knew you. He barely touched you.
But he had always stayed. He had always listened. And that could be enough.
He stepped forward to leave the laundry room, but then looked back, pointing a finger at you. “When you’re ready, let me know when you need me to contact my lawyer. I can help pay for your divorce.”
Ignoring Han’s phone calls to the front desk got easier with time. Especially when Jihoon sent a group of his old friends to drive him out of the city for the time being. Wonwoo had told you about the first few calls when you started staying at the hotel, and only stopped after Jihoon requested he only tell upper management about Han’s persistence. Your husband couldn’t even step near the property without the new body guards knowing. You wouldn’t have even found out about the party Jihoon sent after Han if you hadn’t overheard his private conversation with Wonwoo, when he described the money it took to haggle a group of hard boilers to chase down a well-known gangster.
His methods should scare you. His connections to the Lucky Aces should have you fleeing. But he was the only person, in such a long time, to make you feel secure. He was going to protect you, even if it cost him his life.
You didn’t understand him. And maybe it was better that you didn’t.
Jihoon helped obtain a private divorce lawyer through means you didn’t bother questioning. The kind of lawyer you would never be able to afford if he wasn’t paying, far from society’s prying eyes. It wasn’t like you were much of a big deal, but a divorce between any gangster and his wife was front page news. Society would rip you to shreds, demanding you provide proof of desertion or adultery. You wanted to avoid that at any cost. His lawyer was able to start the process of separation almost immediately, involving you at every step.
After cutting your lease at the apartment, which Jihoon happily stepped in to help, you moved all of your belongings into a room at the hotel. You wondered if you’d be put in another room on the second floor, but much to your surprise, Jihoon put you in a free room on the first floor. Close to his quarters and the manager’s office.
“I want to be close in case you need me,” he said, opening the door to room 101. “Please, don’t hesitate to call for me.”
You had looked back at him in that moment, setting your only two bags near the bed. The words that came out of his mouth were nonchalant, but you could see in his eyes what he really wanted to say: Please, need me.
Oh, how you wished he understood how much you did.
Using the phone in your room, you finally called your family again to tell them the news. Your mother had sounded relieved that you were even alive: “I had been holding out hope. I was so scared. I thought you might’ve run off with some drugstore cowboy!” But when you revealed that you were separating from Han, you had to pull the phone away from your ear just to drown out the sound of your mother’s screaming: “Excuse me?! How much have you had to drink right now? I bet everyone at this speakeasy you work at is just handing you hooch all the time. That’s the only reason why you would be spouting such nonsense. Han is a good man. Why would you even think about doing this?!”
You knew she didn’t mean it. Han had fooled everyone; you almost didn’t believe it when he told you his real profession after the wedding. And truthfully, your parents relied on him when times got tough. Han was constantly sending them money if they needed it; that was one of the many reasons they convinced you to marry him in the first place. Your family wasn’t well off. They needed him.
So you had to make her understand.
After finally coming clean to her about your husband’s crime-related activities, she had finally calmed down, started speaking in a tone where you didn’thave to have the phone so far from your actual ear. She became more concerned about the social implications of separating from such a well-known man, but you convinced your mother that you knew what you were doing. Even if you didn’t believe it yourself. Even if this process was scaring you half to death. And she trusted you.
For the first time ever, your mother trusted you.
The dust was finally starting to settle. You had been living at the Hotel Ruby for two weeks and honestly, your body had never been more relaxed. The phone calls to the front desk had stopped. Your lawyer was handling everything behind the scenes. And you were safe.
You found yourself spending more time with Jihoon than you expected. Long nights after the juice joint closed, the staff cleaning around you, and the two of you found yourself sitting at one of the tables and sharing stories from years past. You both preferred to share a cigarette because it felt less detrimental than smoking two individually. It felt intimate, almost like a kiss. A not-kiss, that maybe you desperately wanted to have. Maybe he did too.
Going in for your shifts became so much easier now that you didn’t have to rely on the bus or a taxi to get you there. You simply had to get dressed and head down the hallway that led to speakeasy. Seungcheol was especially chipper today, already having the door open for you as your new kitten heels clicked down the corridor. Jihoon had bought them for you in his favorite color: a deep burgundy.
Slipping into the backroom, you said hello to Minghao before opening your locker to grab your apron you left there overnight. Pulling out the discarded heap of fabric, you paused when you heard a thunk, noticing a folded up piece of paper fall onto the bottom of your locker. Your brow furrowed and you looked around, but you were still alone. When you picked up the note, you realized it had weight to it.
You bit into your lip, hesitating, and then opened up the paper. The first thing you saw was a small, gold key with the numbers 217 slightly embossed on the top. Your eyes widened. This looked like a copied key, and it wasn’t the first time you saw one of these. Han used to have a special person he went to for copied keys. The molding of the numbers was a crucial giveaway. When your gaze finally shifted to the note, you froze, reading over the words as you felt your throat close up.
Only visit when the clock strikes 1 PM, it read. Good luck.
You threw the note back into your locker as if it burned you. Someone was trying to set you up. You couldn’t have this in your possession. Maybe you could throw it in the fireplace tonight, watch the metal of the key slowly melt into charred wood and ash.
The possibilities ran through your head all night, but it was all cheap talk. Because that key stayed in your locker for another week before your curiosity got the better of you.
It was 1 PM on a Thursday and Seungkwan was giving you a look as he pressed the button for the second floor that made your whole body shake. Like he knew what you were doing. Like he’d been waiting. But neither of you said a word, just simply rode the elevator in silence. As you left the metal cage, he tipped his hat towards you and left you alone in the barren hallway of floor 2. You swallowed hard, and then turned on your heel to see room 217 at the end.
You didn’t know how much time had passed. You wondered if you blacked out. Because you were suddenly standing in front of the door in question, the copied key trembling in your hand. Why were you so nervous? You had no idea what was behind this door. Maybe it was excitement, the knowledge of finally seeing what had plagued you for weeks. To be in the know. Once you saw this, you could be on your way and never have to think about why everyone acted so strange about this abandoned room in the first place.
Twisting the key in the lock, you let the door slowly open and reveal the room. It looked like every other room, almost identical to the one you stayed in, so you stepped further inside. Your tread was silent, and you walked forward like you were waiting for someone to scare you. But the room was … the same. Nothing too out of the ordinary, besides the paintings hung up on the walls. These ones looked old and expensive. Worth a lot more than what this room costed. Your hands finally unclenched, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. All that curiosity amounted to … nothing. But it did make you wonder why everyone spoke so oddly about this room in the first place.
And then you turned.
On the wall, directly facing the bed, was a gallery of photos. Each taken from different angles, days, situations. Some featured a smile, some had a cigarette dangling from lips. Eyes met the lens in a few. Some even included other employees of the hotel and speakeasy staff. But there was one similarity between all of them, and that was that they were all taken without any knowledge.
Oh, and they were all of you.
You stumbled, not sure what to make of this. Every photo was of you. This was a collage of your face. You took another step back, landing on the edge of the bed. Your hand came up to your mouth as you ogled the assortment of photos, until you almost couldn’t look anymore and peered at the room around you.
There were stains of self pleasure on the sheets.
Cigarette ashes piled in the litter of trays on every surface.
You gasped, standing up immediately as you took in the horror. But amongst the perverse, the deviancy, there was a sort of … softness here. There were fresh red roses on the bedside table. You recognized the paintings from the renaissance era, suggesting a fondness. And when you approached the desk by the window … there was a note, ink stains embedded into the thin paper. A box with a pearl necklace sat on the edge, and the note was addressed to you from Jihoon, explaining why he wanted to gift the necklace to you. He wrote as if he were devoted, as if he were in love, and simply didn’t understand how to express it.
This was Jihoon’s room. This was all his doing. That’s why no one was allowed in here, because they’d see … who he really was.
Turning to face the photo wall again, you suddenly realized that you didn’t know how to feel. Your emotions were torn in two different directions. For so long, you’d been devalued, treated as an accessory. Nothing but the doting wife to a notorious gangster, just shy on the totem pole to be important enough to receive threats to your life. Han loved you, but not like this. You walked forward, scanning the multitude of pictures, noticing the little moments he captured of you, and your heart … clenched. Like someone with an iron grip was holding it and wouldn’t let go.
He noticed you. You didn’t ask for it, but he chose you anyway.
You should be terrified. You should be running away screaming. This shouldn’t make your eyes soften or make you wonder if it was possible to stay here forever, with him. But you couldn’t help yourself when you reached out, fingers brushing the corner of a zoomed-in photo of yourself, your eyes fixed on the lens without even knowing it. You were smiling, the corners of your lips almost reaching your ears, as snow fell around your head like a crown. Your mouth trembled and your heart sped up because … you mattered to him.
But you shouldn’t be here. You knew you shouldn’t. Everything about this was wrong – from the collage wall to intruding on his private domain. This wasn’t meant for you to know, for anyone to know. And when you were sure you heard the elevator ding outside the room, you bolted, unaware that you knocked down a small frame of Jihoon and his mother on a small table near the door.
There was a maid’s closet right near room 214. You sprinted out of 217, whipping your entire body into the closet as you heard the metal doors of the elevator open at the end of the hall. Pushing yourself deeper into the small room, crowding against the mops and brooms and various cleaning products, you stilled your breath. Footsteps echoed, highlighted underneath the crack in the door, and you gripped a hand over your mouth. They stopped at the other corner of the corridor – near 217 – and it was only when you knew the door had opened and closed did you finally allow yourself to breathe.
The Velvet Ruby had never been more lively on a Thursday night, and you found yourself struggling to keep up. Everywhere you looked, it seemed that each of your customers wanted another drink, as if they were guzzling them. Sweat beaded your hairline each time you bumped into one of your coworkers, your mind somewhere else, thinking of the photos and pearl necklaces and ashtrays –
You collided into Mingyu’s shoulder, breaking you out of your thoughts. He apologized and brushed past you, allowing you a moment to still yourself amongst the chaos. You breathed out, closed your eyes, and gripped the edge of your tray. Everything was going to be okay. The day would end and you could go to bed soon enough. You would survive, because you had to. Because you were still safe. Maybe you’d even forget about the photos, the note.
Or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d let it consume you whole.
You finally opened your eyes, head turned slightly when you felt a gaze burning into your cheek. Even in the darkness, even amongst the crowd of drunken patrons and servers who jostled around you … you could find him. And he was watching you from the corner of the room, bringing a cigar to his lips, exhaling the smoke that filtered around his dark eyes. He didn’t approach. He didn’t nod. Jihoon simply watched, his stare never leaving yours.
Everything stopped. Your heart paused.
And it was then, that you wondered if he knew what you’d done.
Of course, he knew.
Infatuation was like a disease, spreading to every sap like it was going out of style. Jihoon had known infatuation, but he had never known it like this. He needed to restrain himself. He was a well-heeled man. Being a well-heeled man meant that he was a put-together, sharply dressed, impressive. The kind of man who knew how to act in public and paid attention to his employees, who smoked cigars but helped his patrons at a moment’s notice. The kind of man who secretly enjoyed cheap alcohol and taking a date home to bend her over before having his way with her. But it didn’t matter. It never got out, because he was a well-heeled man. Handsome and level-headed. He never got angry, never punched his employee’s husband so hard that his knuckles scarred, never thought about each way he could claim a married woman in just about every corner of his hotel. He was, as always, a well-heeled man.
But that was all a lie, wasn’t it? A character he fought with in his head. Because well-heeled men didn’t really exist. A well-heeled man didn’t take in women like you, someone married to a gangster he ran away from. A well-heeled man didn’t have the thoughts he had about you. A well-heeled man didn’t pour every ounce of his dough into getting his lawyer to take your divorce case. A well-heeled man didn’t have a secret room where he masturbated to a collage of your pictures on the wall.
The room didn’t start this way. It was just supposed to be a place for him to unwind. That’s why he hung up his favorite paintings – Sandro Botticelli’s Primavera, Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait – and always had fresh flowers by the bed. It was a room away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel, the speakeasy. Everyone. Where he could decompress and smoke his cigars in peace.
And then, he hung up one picture of you. It was the staff photo, but he folded it up until it was just you, overexposed and smiling at the camera. You looked so beautiful, tall, nothing like the woman who walked through the doors of the hotel. You blossomed under him like a flower in spring-time.
He had more pictures taken of you. He couldn’t help himself, and he simply loved photography. You were his muse when he wasn’t even behind the camera. He hung up another photo. And another. And another. Until the whole wall was covered in you. And he was still calm – calmer than ever before. He had to be. Jihoon let himself fall back onto the bed, looking up at the wall of you, his gaze reveling in your smile, your eyes, you.
You were an imprint on his mind. An itch he couldn’t scratch. His angel. And it was then that he realized he simply couldn’t be calm anymore. Especially not when his hand started to drift towards his waistband, cigarette hanging from his lips as he unbuckled his belt. He was reaching into his pants and finding himself hard and – god, you created a monster out of him.
He wasn’t a fool. Of course, he felt perverse, shameful. But you had made him weak and he simply couldn’t stop. The pictures were beautiful – you were beautiful. And if he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, then maybe he could gaze upon you and find a little sense of peace while he fisted his cock until he came all over his thigh.
There was something off when he came back to 217 on Thursday. The air seemed different, a new perfume that hadn’t been there before, but he chocked it up to his imagination. His eyes were sharp though, and within seconds, he saw it: the small, wooden frame laying facedown near the door. His stare narrowed, lifting the frame back up so he could see the photo of him and his mother, taken just a few months shy of her death. He set it in place before walking around the room.
There was a shift in the bedsheets. One of the photos amongst the cluster – the close-up of your face, eyes fixed at the camera without you knowing it – had been tilted slightly. And that scent … it only got stronger the more he was in the room.
The only people that knew about this room were him and Soonyoung, who never came in here anyway because he didn’t approve of it. Soonyoung had always been the most open person, willing to understand just about everything, and it wasn’t that he was cruel to Jihoon about it. Cruelty wasn’t in his nature. When Jihoon finally finished the photo wall and decided to let someone in on the secret, he allowed Soonyoung to walk into 217 on his own.
His friend’s face was nothing short of shock.
He had stood there, staring at all the photos for a long time, before noticing the cigars on the desk, the indent of a body on the sheets. Soonyoung knew what this room was about, what kind of depravity his friend was up to as means of relaxing. It smelled of smoke and fresh roses, ink and arousal. He was momentarily disgusted, but didn’t have it in him to be shocked. This was Jihoon after all. His closest confidant, and if he was letting him in to this secret, it must be for a reason.
“Pal,” he finally said, “you can’t keep doing this.”
Jihoon waved his hand. “I’m not adding any more photos.”
“Not that. I mean this –” Soonyoung gestured around the room. “– in general. I know that you have no … ill intent behind this. I know you’re carrying a torch for her –”
“I think it’s more than just that now.”
“– But,” he continued, and then sighed, his eyes growing heavy. “What if someone finds this room?”
Jihoon shook his head. “No one will. The door doesn’t even open with the universal key.” He pulled out two distinct looking gold keys with his pocket. “217 was used for storage by my great grandfather back in the day. The lock will only open for these two keys.” He placed one of them in Soonyoung’s palm and then closed his fingers. “I want you to have the second one. Keep it safe.”
Soonyoung’s eyes flickered to his friend’s. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be involved in this.”
“You don’t have to be involved in anything,” he chided. “Just don’t let this key out of your sight. Be my friend. Please.”
Soonyoung had always been weak to begging, and after a long moment, he nodded. That had been months ago, and he hadn’t been in 217 since. He didn’t tell a soul and tried his best to forget about his friend’s personal time. He kept the key safe, or so Jihoon thought.
Because someone was in here. Any normal person who found this room would come to him immediately about it, call him out on his behavior or threaten to call the police, take him down for a good price. But no one did. Even hours later, as Jihoon sat in 217 and contemplated who could’ve been in here, he realized that the answer had been in front of him.
The only person that would stay quiet, the only person that would refuse to look at him after stepping inside … was you.
He heard the lock click open, and he tilted his head to see Soonyoung opening the door. He looked relieved to find him here, as if he’d been looking for him for hours. Or maybe he was simply thankful he hadn’t walked in on his friend touching himself. Nevertheless, Soonyoung was panting, out of breath, and he didn’t even give Jihoon a second to ask what was wrong before he was exclaiming, “I think someone copied my key.”
You were going back to the room.
For an entire week, you wondered if it had all been a dream. The memory kept you up most nights, making your eyes tip up to the ceiling, where room 217 was locked just above your head. What if this was your cue to run again? What if these photos got back to Han? What if Jihoon had been secretly working on turning you into him this whole time? Rational was out the window now. Not when you were in the midst of divorce and he could use any piece of leverage against you.
The key shook in your hands as you stomped towards the room. You dared to not meet Seungkwan’s eyes this time, half-knowing that it must’ve been him who gave you this key in the first place. But why? Just to cause a stir, or was he curious himself? Maybe it wasn’t meant for you to know, and truthfully, you didn’t need the answer either. You just wanted to make sure that it was real, and then make a decision from there. What transpired this afternoon would change the trajectory of your future, if you fled this hotel or not.
You unlocked the door, key trembling in your grasp, and shut the door behind you before looking up. A gasp left your lips.
“So I didn’t scare you away?”
Back pressed against the door, you found Jihoon lounging in the desk chair, back slumped and legs spread comfortably. Instead of his typical cigar, he inhaled a drag from a cigarette before flicking some ash into a tray beside him. You swallowed hard and flattened your palms against the door, as if you could push it back. But you didn’t want to get away from him. Quite the opposite. Because you had questions and Jihoon, without a doubt, had answers.
“I don’t scare very easily anymore.” Your chin lifted to feign confidence.
Both sets of eyes shifted to the photo wall, still hanging in place, and when yours flickered back, his was already pointed on you. Transfixed. As if his gaze was always meant to find yours in a room.
“You had all these photos taken of me,” you muttered, leveling a glare at him, “and you’re using them for – what? Self pleasure, or are you actually working with Han?”
Jihoon’s brow furrowed. His stare was blank. “You think I would put my own life on the line like that by reaching out to Han about you, angel?”
You shrugged. “He must have a bounty on me though. It’s probably steep. Any hotel owner with a secret room is probably using it for …” You glanced at the sheets, which were now clean. “Nefarious activities.”
“That’s not what this room is for,” he answered. His voice was so calm, like you weren’t accusing him of anything. “And I am not, nor will I ever, be in contact with Han. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Your stare flicked to his and you bit your lip. His eyes moved down to see your teeth sink into your plump bottom lip, but you couldn’t let him distract you as you assessed his tone. And somehow … you knew he was telling the truth.
He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “This room didn’t start out the way that you think. It was just a place to unwind, and then … I realized you face made me feel better than any rare cigar.”
You paused, lips pursed. “You knew I’d come back.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t feel like you had to, but yes.”
“How long?” You didn’t even bother to gesture to the wall. He knew what you meant.
Jihoon’s gaze didn’t leave yours as he replied, “You’re not a fool. You know how long.”
Since the photographer came to the hotel. Even if you refused to admit it to yourself, to face the reality before you – you did know it. You watched him lean forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, as he took in your schooled expression.
Finally, you moved from the door and approached the wall. You reached out, fingers brushing over one photo in particular, before plucking it off. The corner ripped, and Jihoon fought the urge to get to his feet. It was a photo of you and Jeonghan, sharing a cigarette outside the Velvet Ruby. You could practically hear the laughter embedded in the ink. This had been a good day; you remembered it fondly.
When Jihoon eventually stood from his chair, he was careful not to crowd you, keeping his hands to himself. But you were slowly walking to the bed anyway, staring at the photo like it contained a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite figure out. You turned it over in your palm, then another time, before you let your eyes glaze over the surface again. “All these photos …” You murmured. “You don’t have a version of me that’s afraid.”
Jihoon’s spine was pressed against the old drawer in front of the photo wall. His hands gripped the edge, knuckles turning white from restraint. Well-heeled men control themselves. His voice was but a mere whisper when he said, “I wanted to remember you like this: safe, happy, beautiful. That’s the version of you this place created.”
You viewed up, crossing your legs over the edge of the bed. The confession struck you like lightning, making every hair on your body stand up and your skin prickle. You licked your lips and muttered, “If I told you this crossed the line …”
His answer was immediate: “I’ll remove every single trace of you from this room and I’ll …” He grimaced, but only for a second. “I’ll let you leave the hotel. I’ll wipe your name clean from the Velvet Ruby. I’ll let you move on.”
“And if I didn’t tell you that?” You bit your lip again.
His fingers flexed. Well-heeled men didn’t stare at married women like that. Well-heeled men didn’t imagine tugging on that lip before devouring her mouth. He did a sharp intake of breath.
“I would wait for you.” He took a beat. “Until you were ready. Until after your divorce finalized."
“The divorce will be finalized. The when part is simply up in the air. No need to be a worrywart.”
He tried to even his breathing, but the tension in the room was so thick that it could be cut with the dullest knife in his kitchen. His dark eyes never left yours, serious and unyielding. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Jihoon,” you confessed. You knew it was wrong – it was diabolical – to want him in a moment like this. To acknowledge the desire you kept inside for so long, to hear him admit to it too. But you needed to, or else you might just explode. “I guess I just want … you. No one has made me feel safe like you do. No one has given me agency like you have. I’m not the person I used to be – I’m not afraid anymore – because of you.”
“Angel, you have to know …” His voice trailed off as he ultimately let himself step forward, slowly, in your direction. “You are the most enticing creature I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Before you, before this – everything felt cold and lonely. But your presence has invigorated something in me, something protective and primal that I know is wrong. I simply couldn’t help myself. Everything about you invites me in. You’re the predator and I’m just your weak prey.”
Your breathing stilled as you watched Jihoon sink to his knees in front of you. His hands, still scarred from ramming his fist into Han, carefully went to your hips, hardly even touching you. “So if you really want me,” he continued, “I need you to say it again, and I’ll do whatever your heart desires. As long as it means I get to touch you.”
You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, hesitated, and then let your nimble fingers trace his mouth. “I want you, Jihoon,” you whispered.
He surged upward, standing between your long legs, and crushed his lips onto yours. You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t been kissed like this in years. And he knew that, so with his mouth still on yours, he took your palms off the bed and placed them on his chest. Instantly, your fingers curled, fisting into the silk shirt, bringing him that much closer. He laughed into the kiss, surprised by your eagerness, as he carefully slipped his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time Han kissed you, especially like this. With passion, with the kind of intensity that almost scared you, but you needed him more than you let on. You pulled Jihoon closer as he licked into your mouth, and you tasted nicotine on his tongue.
He leaned back, just slightly, noticing how swollen your lips looked from just one kiss. His mouth curved a little on one side, his fingers sliding down from your jaw down your collarbone, skimming your sides, before they rested at the buttons of your blouse. Your mouth sealed and you looked at him with wide eyes. “When was the last time anyone touched you?” He asked under his breath.
“I …” You shook your head. “I can’t remember.”
He raised one hand again, the tip of his finger trailing around your rounded lips. “Don’t sweat it, angel,” he whispered, leaning in to inhale your perfume yet again. He damn near groaned at the scent. “I wanted to go slow anyway. We have all the time in the world.”
“You have to go downstairs to watch the front desk though.”
Jihoon leveled a look at you. “Trust me. We have all the time in the world.”
You nodded, and your body froze when he tugged on your bottom lip finally, sucking it in between his teeth. He couldn’t stop the sound that reverberated from his mouth anymore, and when he released your lip, he saw the ident he left behind. The mark only he could give you.
No second guessing. No regretting. You slowly leaned back onto the plush mattress, your hair fanning out and making you look like an actual angel. Jihoon almost forgot to breathe at the sight of you. In this moment, you were all his and more. Everything he ever wanted was at his fingertips as he slowly unbuttoned your blouse and pulled your skirt down. He made sure to fold both pieces in a pile on the floor, topped off with the heels he bought you, before eyeing you yet again.
You were wearing a cotton chemise, trimmed with white lace, and stockings underneath. Under his gaze, you were already squirming, unsure how to handle someone looking at you with so much heat. Han had never, not even when you had first met, during the initial moments of attraction. Not even when he took your innocence. Never. Now Jihoon was, and even though it made goosebumps rise on your skin, you liked it. You needed it.
“You’re a real-life angel,” he whispered, hardly loud enough for you to hear, and helped lift the chemise over your head.
Jihoon almost fell back. He wasn’t that old, and yet, the sight of you half-dressed had him gripping the wall for support. Your breasts were the perfect size, rosy nipples that perked up from his attention. A garter belt was secure to your waist, holding up your sheer black stockings, and a pair of drawers underneath it all. The wet spot soaking into the fabric was so apparent, but even if he was blind, he could smell it. Smell you. He had never smelled this kind of arousal before, the kind that begged to be touched.
He wanted to taste you right now, like this. Push your drawers to the side and suck your clit into his mouth like a proper gentleman. Tights still on as one leg curled on his shoulder. But truthfully, he was too selfish. If he didn’t see you naked in the next thirty seconds, he might just come undone.
Taking off the garter belt, he carefully unhooked your stockings, slowly rolling them down your thighs, maintaining eye contact with you. He noticed your breathing pick up a little when his fingers hooked around the waistband of your drawers, and he paused, kneeling slightly and letting his breath ghost between your legs. His gaze didn’t leave yours.
“Jihoon –” You breathed.
“You’re wet,” he smirked, and your nipples hardened more. He hadn’t even touched them yet. “You’re so wet and I’ve hardly done anything.”
Your eyes closed for a moment, cheeks heating from embarrassment. “I just …” Words died on your tongue.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he whispered, peeling your drawers down and setting them aside in the pile he laid out for you. Placing your hand in his, he brought your palm to his groin, letting you feel the hardness beneath. Your eyes widened, connecting with his, and he added, “I need you too.”
You swallowed, fingers pressing down to squeeze his bulge, but he took your hand off before you could feel anymore. Lord knew that if you touch him any longer … his release would be completely wasted.
He set your hand back down on the bed and lowered his gaze. You had to be the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Completely bare, hair unfurled out like a halo, pebbled nipples and slick gathering between your thighs. To think he had you, like this, in the room where all his perverse fantasies lied … this had to be a dream. And yet, when his fingers grazed your thigh, felt your hairs quill, it was real. You were real.
“Wait,” he murmured, jogging over to the desk and grabbing a compact camera from the cabinet. He didn’t even close the drawer, too excited, and wound the knob on the camera’s frame. Your head tilted to the side, but he didn’t give you a moment to ask as he waved the camera. “Can I, angel?”
In most circumstances, you would say no. But this wasn’t most circumstances. This was Jihoon, the only man that had ever made you feel unharmed. You were his angel, his muse. God forbid, you liked the way you were seen in his eyes, under his lens.
Your chin nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips.
His cock throbbed in his pants.
Lining the viewfinder up to his eye, he adjusted the aperture to the dimly lit room the best he could. He was hardly a professional; he just enjoyed photos that much. You didn’t smile. You just laid there before him, one arm slightly behind your head so your breasts lifted. He made sure to capture the whole scene, even the wrinkles within the sheets, the slight shine of arousal from your folds. With steady hands, Jihoon held his breath as he pressed the shutter lever and took the photo. Then another, and another. He wanted to be absolutely sure when he developed this film that he captured you perfectly.
And then, he threw the camera onto the ground, not giving you a moment before he was burying his face between your legs. The immediate moan you let out was heavenly. Jihoon was sure that was what the choir sounded like when he was forced to attend church as a kid. You leaned up on your elbows, watching the way his eyes rolled back as he licked into your weeping hole. Your jaw unhinged; you’d never felt anything like this. Never once thought you would feel anything this good. His nose was hitting that part of your core that you had only touched a few times, the place that made your insides turn to mush and cause honey to drip down your thighs, as his tongue did ungodly things to you. Your moans, you realized, only spurred him on more, and he curled his tongue inside you faster.
He looked up, eyes meeting yours from between your thighs, and noticed you were sitting up to watch him. But he wanted you to enjoy this, so he slid one hand up your body and pushed down your stomach. You complied, fully lying back against the mattress, as his other bicep looped around your leg. He need to pry you open more, spread you like a feast.
Rolling up his sleeves, the last thing you expected was him sliding two fingers inside of you while taking your swollen bud in his mouth. You exhaled, hardly a moan, because you weren’t sure what sounds you could make at the moment. Your hips lifted, grinding against his face unintentionally. Jihoon groaned into your pussy and it vibrated through you, causing your nipples to perk so much that they practically hurt. Suckling your clit, he tasted your tangy flavor, and he knew then that no one, not one person, came close to you. You were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours and he would be doing this over and over again.
You weren’t sure how he did it, but he managed to shove his face impossibly deeper. He tugged at your clit, curled those fingers inside you in a come forward motion, making you reel. Your thighs began to shake. How was he able to reach places no one ever could? Your whole body was on fire, and he was still lapping at your core. “That’s it, angel,” he muttered, and you shivered at his hot breath on your swollen clit. “Soak my face. I know you can.”
“Says … says you,” you huffed out, unsure if you even could reach that peak. Had you ever with Han? Now you were questioning everything and this was certainly not the time to think back to your previous marriage.
Jihoon chuckled, and your back almost arched. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there.”
Then he was going back in, swirling his tongue around that bud that made your knees twitch, pushing another finger inside of you. He was preparing you for his cock, stretching you to see if you would be able to take him, although you were unaware at the time. And when you finally came after just one curl of his three fingers, he knew you’d fit him so well. He almost whimpered at the taste of your release, the way you clamped down on his three thick fingers and rode out the rest of your orgasm on his face.
As he lifted his head from between your legs, you realized he made due on his promise. You didn’t just soak his face; he was covered in you. His chin mostly, but you watched him wiped down his entire face with his sleeve and you instantly blushed with embarrassment. It was impossible to hide.
Jihoon only smiled at your flushed face, getting to his feet and leaning over you. His lips grazed your cheek, feeling how hot your skin was, as he fought with the buckle on his belt. “No need to be embarrassed. Your flavor is … out of this world,” he whispered, and then leaned back slightly to study you. After a long moment, he asked, “Has no one got you off before?”
You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m … not sure. Was it obvious to you?”
He flashed a smile. “Just a smidge.”
A sigh escaped you, and then your lashes fluttered open. “Of course, I … Han and I undoubtedly have had …” The words turned to ash on your tongue. Growing up as a woman during this time taught you to hold your tongue on all things sexual, but he understood what you were trying to say. Your hand smacked down on the bed. “I think he tried and I simply never realized that I was supposed to feel something like that after intercourse.”
“It shouldn’t just be after intercourse, angel,” he explained, licking the corner of his lips. “He should’ve been getting you off in other ways. You were his wife. Someone to worship.”
“Again, Han tried –”
He cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping down the slope of your nose, and your lips immediately sealed. Jihoon had a way of looking at you that just completely silenced you. He was so calm, so soft, when he said, “Can we not talk about your former husband anymore so I can make love to you?”
You nodded immediately, your own hand coming up to squeeze his wrist lightly. He tried to hold himself together at your submission; the last thing he wanted was to frighten you with just how much he needed you. But it was hard. He was fucking hard. Jihoon couldn’t remember another time that he was this aroused, just like how you were minutes ago. Precum was practically seeping through his slacks and there was a pretty significant tent. Your gaze drifted to it every so often. You knew how badly he desired you, and still … you were just as excited. It made him want to push into you deep, fast, so you could feel him stretching you and reach that one spot that made you crumble.
He was a well-heeled man though. He promised to take this slow, and once you were ready … then he would really take you.
Jihoon didn’t just want to make you see stars. He wanted you to see galaxies.
He unbuttoned his shirt in front of you, wanting to make you watch. It was obvious the way your fingers twitched and your toes curled that you liked what you saw: a toned torso with long arms and bulging biceps to match. Jihoon always felt the need to tell the women he slept with that his height was the only short part of him, but your dilated stare told him that you already suspected this. You felt it. And when he finally slipped off his belt, peeled down his slacks, you weren’t completely surprised. But your teeth still dug into your lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, because the size of him was unfair to most men.
Jihoon’s fingers were thick, but his cock was even thicker. His girth should be enough to scare you, and you tried to remain impassive. However … you weren’t sure how he was supposed to fit inside anyone – let alone you – who had only ever slept with your ex husband. He was probably still long when he was soft, but when he was hard like this … Jihoon might as well have been hiding a third appendage in his pants. Veins traveled up the shaft towards a head that was flushed ruby red, precum beading at the tip. You noticed the way his cock quivered, begging for an ounce of attention, flopping against his chiseled abdomen.
He moved forward, and suddenly, the dynamic shifted for him. He was now the predator, and you were the prey. Propping his knee on the edge of the bed, he knocked your thighs open, giving him enough room to take you. Slick oozed from between your legs, and just the sight made more precum trickle down his length. He leaned forward, his breath mingling with yours as he aligned his cock to your entrance with one hand. Using the other, he leisurely took your wrists in his grip and pinned them above your head.
“I’m going to take you slow, angel,” he murmured, trailing his mouth down your jaw, and then your neck, before licking down the valley between your breasts. You began to squirm again, but you didn’t budge. He kept eye contact with you as he swirled his tongue so lightly around one of your nipples, then added, “If you want me to go faster, or harder, tell me. I’ll do whatever you need.”
You nodded quickly. He grinned, as if he wasn’t just about to completely ravish you with his thick cock. He pecked your lips, and then adjusted his position slightly, before you finally felt his bulbous head start to push into your tight channel. Your breath caught, your walls pressing down when he wasn’t even halfway inside. “Relax, angel,” he whispered, lowering his head again to take your hard nipple into his mouth. Just the feeling of him suckling on you like this was the best distraction, and he felt your body give way to him.
Once he was fully sheathed, he paused and savored the tight connection between the two of you. You were almost afraid to move, praying he wouldn’t slip out just yet, no matter how uncomfortable the stretch was. Your eyes shifted over his shoulder, scanning the wall of photos. Every single picture of your face. He was devoted to you – god, was he devoted – and you knew it from the way he heaved against your nipple just from the realization of being inside you finally. In room 217. On the bed he pleasured himself on so many times to your image.
Because it was you. It was always going to be you.
His mouth moved, pressing against the curve of your breast, as he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. You gasped, still not used to the absolute fullness inside of you, but you relaxed again as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. He began a steady pace, looking down at you so your eyes would never leave his. He wanted to make sure he caught every expression as he fucked into you deep. “God, you feel …” He lost the will to speak, only able to huff and sigh. “Like … like heaven.”
“Really?” You breathed.
“Really,” he muttered. “Terribly so.”
Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, but he wouldn’t yield. Not unless you said so. He molded you just for him. He would ruin you for anyone else. Jihoon had to, because he couldn’t bear the thought of any other man being inside of you, not when he finally tasted heaven. And it was when you said the words, “I want more,” that he might’ve lost all restraint.
“More?” His brow furrowed down at you.
You confirmed with a nod. “Harder. Faster. Please, Jihoon.”
“Angel, you don’t –”
“I do.” Your response was so calm, stern. You knew what you were asking for, and when he was still stalling, you pushed your hips up to meet his, rubbing against his groin. “Take me how you’ve always wanted to.”
His grip on your wrists tightened, and all you heard was him mutter, “Fuck,” before every ounce of control left his body. Pulling out again, he practically pounded back into you, relentless. His new pace knocked the wind out of you, his hips fucking into you so hard that you were sure there would be bruises the next day. And you didn’t care. Because he felt so good, and you felt good, and you finally understood why your old friends used to say that sex was only good with the right person. That was Jihoon. His cock curved into you just right, hitting that one spot, and you keened, whimpering his name like it was the only thing you knew.
“Squeeze me so good,” he grunted, meeting your completely fucked-out stare, “you know that?”
All you could do was nod, mouth falling open as your body vibrated with pleasure.
His free hand left your nipple to hitch your leg up onto his hip, and his groan sounded otherworldly as he fucked into you even deeper than before. He had to be dreaming. No one could ever feel this good, but you did. And of course, it would be you. Wrists fidgeting in his hold, you felt your arousal gush around him just from the pleasure of being absolutely filled like this. You managed to hold your leg up, even when it felt like jelly, and his hand crept between your legs. “I’m gonna make you see stars again,” he promised, fingers finding your puffy clit, “and then I’m going to let go inside you. Sound good, angel? Because I can’t hold on much longer.”
Before you could utter a strangled word, he pinched your clit, and then pressed down on it at the same time he pushed into you hard. All you saw was white. Just as you started to let out the kind of moan that would echo through the entire hotel, he sealed his mouth over yours. He kissed you with purpose, swallowing every sound as you came for what felt like forever. Your walls contracted, clenching around his cock, until he was groaning against your lips and spiraling down the same path. He fucked his release into you, not stopping for one moment, but his hips faltered slightly. Emptying himself inside of you, you felt the stickiness begin to drip from between your thighs and the deafening squelch when he thrust into you one last time. Finally, he exhaled, collapsing on top of you as the last of his release trickled inside.
You were both silent for a while. The sound of heavy breathing filtered throughout room 217. Jihoon finally slipped his hand off your wrists, muted red marks now blooming on your skin, and cupped your cheek so you could look at him. He admired you: hardly able to keep your eyes open, your dilated pupils, the flush on your cheeks and the sweat dotting your hairline, making your perfectly-kept hair now frizzy. You were even more beautiful like this – not put together, claimed. You were all his now. And no one – not even Han – could take you away from this hotel.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered against your kiss-bitten lips, “forever.”
genre: smut, angst, fluff, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers
summary: being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.
warnings: handjobs, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, grinding, praise, wonwoo is a service top!!, multiple sex scenes, jerking it in an corporate office bathroom lol, drunk horniness, miscommunication, reader is learning how to open up<3, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 19.2k
note: hello new ppl, welcome to the first goldenhourology one shot ✨ I've written things in the past, but this is my first really long one shot. the longer it got, the more I stressed out lol. but I've seen a lot of people do this 20k word one shots, so I thought I'd try my hand at it! also idk much about tech, so if I got anything wrong in this, pls ignore it. thank you to anyone who gives this a read!!
in rotation: picture you, chappell roan / dress, taylor swift / valentine, laufey / diamond boy, sza
Some said your late 20s were the last few years of fun before you fully allowed yourself to be an adult, so why were you always drowning in work?
It didn’t help that you were an executive assistant in one of the biggest software companies in the U.S. When you took the job, surely, you should’ve known that you’d be signing up for an exorbitant amount of work, ranging from invoice management, planning travel for your boss, to even research for senior managers. Despite the constant stress you were under, you liked this job. You liked the trust that your boss had in you. You liked that they let you be independent and figure things out on your own.
And when you couldn’t … you simply contacted IT.
It helped that a senior IT specialist sat right across from your cubicle.
Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the most talkative cubicle buddy, nor was he the most pleasant. He did his best to give you a smile every once in a while, but he had to fight the urge to throw his head in his hands whenever you send him a message on Slack. You didn’t typically need help with anything, except in the area of tech. You were so organized and incredibly smart – it didn’t take an idiot to see that – but god forbid, sometimes … you could be so technologically averse.
Maybe he just had too many years of schooling under his belt – he was 28 now with both a Bachelors and Masters in Software Engineering – but you surprised him with some of your requests. Sometimes, you’d delete files by accident, need to renew your subscription to important apps, even locked yourself out of your own computer once. He had interns underneath him that could be available to help you, but you had consistently messaged him. And he sat directly across from you. No matter what, it was always going to be Wonwoo that had to help you. Fate had made sure of that.
There were times that you realized you were bothering him. Either you heard him curse from behind his extremely large monitor or he adjusted his glasses so much that you thought he might break them in half. And to be honest, you liked being in control of your own work, so you’d try to find a solution. Typically, solving your own tech problems left your computer in more disarray.
And there was Wonwoo to save the day yet again.
You [10:58 AM]: Morning, Wonwoo!
You [10:58 AM]: I screwed up
You [10:59 AM]: Boss sent me some documents that were password protected, but he’s away for the next two days and not answering his phone
You [10:59 AM]: So I might’ve downloaded some software to help me unlock it and I think it’s attempting to hack my email as we speak
You [11:01 AM]: I’m so so sorry! I didn’t want to bother you
Jeon Wonwoo [11:01 AM]: I’ll be right over.
Luckily for you, Wonwoo was able to fix the problem and stop your email from getting hacked. Whoever was the owner of that virus-filled program you tried to download didn’t gain access to those password-protected documents before Wonwoo secured your computer. But it was close. Too close.
Not only that, but he had a multitude of other projects today. He had to train two new interns … have one of those annual performance reviews with the head of IT … change over a dozen new passwords for people … and then he found out that they’re changing servers. Which meant everything backed up on their former server had to be transferred over to the new one. Fucking great.
He wasn’t sure how many times he sighed today, but it had to be over a hundred. When he couldn’t stand to be sitting anymore, he stood up and paced around the third floor of the building. Today felt like the longest day of his life. And there was a mustard stain on his green sweater vest. And he got a shitty haircut a few days ago. And he probably needed new glasses because he was getting headaches.
It was time for a coffee. As well as a day off.
Coincidentally, you were also headed to the break room that afternoon in need of a green tea. You were about to walk in when you heard your cubicle mate letting out a frustrated breath while talking to another IT specialist. He was clearly fed up about something, or maybe just tired of this day. You hid next to the doorframe, and just when you thought it was safe to step out, you heard your name fall from his lips.
“I don’t understand how she does it,” Wonwoo complained, hands smacking against his sides. “Seriously, it’s mind boggling. I’m pretty sure she has her Masters in Business Administration, but she does this shit that just makes me … Oh my god, she literally tried to download some faulty software off the internet today, instead of just asking me or someone else for help.”
“Oh, yeah, everyone wants to turn to you when you got that attitude, man,” someone – Lee Seokmin, maybe? – joked.
“You get what a mean.” Wonwoo watched the first couple drips of shitty office coffee fill his cup. “I was able to save her computer, yeah, but it would be nice to avoid an emergency for a day.”
Seokmin slapped him on the back. “The joys of working in IT.”
You huffed, stalking away from the break room and back to your desk. There was only so much office gossip you could take, especially when it involved you. As soon as you sat down, you finished typing up an email at the loudest volume possible, your fingers basically punching themselves into the keys. You heard Wonwoo slide back into his desk chair, the fresh smell of burnt coffee wafting across to you, and he didn’t say a thing. Not that he would ever know you had eavesdropped. But not a “hello” or “how has computer been after this morning?” He went back to work, burning his tongue on the overly hot liquid.
Maybe Wonwoo was right; maybe you did need to just stop overthinking and ask for help instead of figuring stuff out on your own. Or maybe this asshole needed an attitude check.
You decided to not bother him for the rest of the week, complaining to your friends that Friday night about your shithead of a coworker. They said he might be looking out for you in his own fucked up way. You said he might just be an asshole.
Come Monday morning, you had realized your ignoring hadn’t effected him at all. He still sent you the same small smile as he walked in and sat down across from you. Could he really not see how pissed you are, or had the facade you’d crafted for so long as the perfect corporate employee work too well?
You should just be upfront with him, take control of the situation. Like always.
You [9:44 AM]: I heard you in the break room a few days ago.
You [9:44 AM]: I just didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I had tried to figure out the issue on my own. Didn’t realize that was a crime
Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: Crap.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: You weren’t supposed to hear that.
You [9:47 AM]: Well, I did
Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Listen.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Not that it excuses anything, but there’s so much going on at work. It wasn’t all about you. I was complaining just to complain and I didn’t mean any of it.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: I’m sorry.
You [9:51 AM]: Wow
Jeon Wonwoo [9:51 AM]: What?
You [9:51 AM]: You’ve never come across as someone who can apologize well
Jeon Wonwoo [9:52 AM]: Are you sure you aren’t projecting right now? We sit across from each other. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.
You [9:53 AM]: I thought you were apologizing to me????
Jeon Wonwoo [9:56 AM]: I’m sorry. Again.
You [10:01 AM]: Okay, you’re forgiven
Jeon Wonwoo [10:09 AM]: Can I make it up to you with a coffee?
You didn’t go out on dates. The last one you went on was … years ago, probably in undergrad. Once you go for your Masters, all energy to date goes out the window.
Not that this was a date. This certainly was not a date.
This was an apology coffee after work, since the two of you seemed to have an affinity for caffeine at late hours.
Even if, per chance, he thought this was a date … you’d eventually have to let him down easy. It probably wasn’t in your best interest to date someone like Jeon Wonwoo, but you’d also closed yourself off from love for far too long. It wasn’t that you didn’t get lonely – you did, very much, especially on late nights where it was just you and your favorite vibrator – but it was just … scary. Opening yourself up. Losing just a small semblance of control. You weren’t even sure you could physically allow yourself to do that after being alone for so long.
Your heart had been tucked away so many years ago, locked inside a box, and then in another box, and so on. With the final lock being so complicated that only someone who knew the last four of your social security number could answer. No one was opening up that box. Your heart was safe from the outside world.
You were independent, reliant on only yourself, and you liked it that way.
Once he had gotten both your coffees, he sat down next to you at a hightop table, folding his winter coat over the back of his chair. He had managed to remember your latte order and it tasted perfect. Your eyes flitted up, ogling him for a moment. When you’re not under the fluorescent lights of the office, Wonwoo was … attractive. To say the least. Maybe he always had been and you were too blind to see it. Maybe his face was perpetually hidden by his monitor.
His hair was tousled in the way that it looked effortless, even if he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed. He had a tendency to wear sweater vests with white t-shirts underneath, or button-downs with jeans. But it was only when he showed off his forearms that you realized he was surprisingly built underneath his oversized clothes. He was tall and his shoulders were broad. You liked his glasses too; they always sat on the edge of his nose. A thin line was etched into both lenses, suggesting age, but they framed his face well.
Yeah, you thought to yourself, he is handsome.
“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, knocking you out of your stupor.
You blinked and looked down at your coffee, removing the lid. “Oh, I … uh … good question.”
“Listen,” he started, eyes flickering to his hands, “I’m really sorry about what I said –”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
“– And I understand if you want to go to HR about this –”
You shook your head. “Wait, what? Why would I do that?”
He glanced around, until finally, his eyes were on you again. And suddenly, you were wondering if his eyes were dark brown or the color of cinnamon. “Isn’t that what any rational person would do?”
He had you stumped there. If this were a different situation … you probably would do that. “I’m not going to tell HR about this, Wonwoo. You apologized and said you didn’t mean it. I have to trust that.” And you didn’t trust lightly – hardly at all – but something about Wonwoo made you feel like it could be easy with him.
“We all have shit days,” you added, taking a sip of the scalding hot latte. “You have a ton of stuff on your plate. Doesn’t give you an excuse for what you did, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean. I have so many things to organize throughout the day, and sometimes it gets the better of me. Remember when I had book that last minute trip for our CEO and I was on the phone for hours with Delta and Suzanne in finance had the nerve to start bothering me about some invoice? I lost it on her for a straight minute.”
“Oh, my god, yeah,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the memory resurfaced. “Her eyes almost came out of her skull at your reaction. To be fair … Suzanne needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. She always blames IT when she can’t get into her email, but it’s because she’s constantly typing her password with one letter off.”
You couldn’t help but giggle. Your hand hit the tabletop a few times as you let your workplace personality fade in front of your coworker. “Those new IT interns don’t know what’s coming once Suzanne comes for them,” you joked.
“The IT interns don’t know anything. Period.” He jabbed his finger onto the table. “I mean, they’re interns, but it takes so much time to train them. If I have to teach them JavaScript one more time …”
“Say it, Jeon Wonwoo,” you egged him on, a chuckle filtering at the end. “What will happen if you have to teach those good for nothing interns JavaScript?”
A slow smile made it’s way onto Wonwoo’s face, and … damn, you were actually a really cool person. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you what will happen …”
Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: Did you bring lunch today?
Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: I just found this new cafe down the street and was thinking about grabbing something there in a few. Did you wanna come?
You [12:14 PM]: Do you think they have a chicken salad sandwich on the menu
Jeon Wonwoo [12:15 PM]: I can only assume so?
You [12:15 PM]: SOLD
You both go out for more coffees, before and after work. You found yourself excited to wake up early, to meet up with Wonwoo at the coffee shop located in the lobby of your work building. Always getting there before him, you typically ordered two coffees – remembering his order to a T – and when he walked in five minutes late, he promised to buy the next round. You never let him.
You began planning lunches over Slack, discussing what was on special at that cafe he found last month. In fact, you two talked most of the day on Slack. A message from you had once gotten on his nerves, and now … he was eager for it. Eager to hear your thoughts throughout the day, excited to talk about what new dumb question an intern asked him today or to see more pictures of your grandma’s cats.
And Wonwoo … Wonwoo was easier to get along with than you thought. You just had to peel back the layers before he finally got comfortable, and honestly, you could relate. To be fair, you had a few more layers than he did, but he was slowly learning that you were more than what he perceived. After that first coffee, he realized how funny you were, and then a couple lunches later, he learned you were an avid romance and thriller reader – and nothing in between. It wasn’t until last week that he finally cracked you open enough to learn about your love for Elder Scrolls Online. He was sure you were joking at first, but when you clarified how serious you were, he almost fell off his chair.
“I’m not shocked that you play it,” he said over coffee one morning. “What I’m shocked at is that you’d rather play Elder Scrolls Online and not Skyrim.”
“Of course, you would say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really have an interest in the game universe. I started playing Elder Scrolls Online to relieve stress while applying to colleges, and then I just … didn’t stop.” You shrugged.
Much to his own surprise – even with your take on Skyrim – Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed your company. It was insane that you both had spent almost two years sitting across from each other before realizing how much you liked each other. Words always left unsaid. Eyes staying glued to computers. It had been a routine for you both that you had never strayed from – until now. So many tech requests over Slack … and now he was actively looking forward to work everyday. To seeing you. To talking with you.
You.
Jeon Wonwoo realized how much he liked stockings. Specifically, he liked the way you looked in them.
And that’s when things got dangerous.
He started to notice the days you would wear them, and then concluded which day you did laundry. You liked wearing blouses with a pencil skirt and stockings on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Those were now his favorite days.
Wednesdays you’d wear dress pants and maybe a sweater, whereas on “Casual Fridays,” you were clad in a t-shirt with a cardigan layered and jeans. You always looked nice at the office, but those stocking days … they were getting to him.
Sometimes, he’d watch the way you walked away from your desk – either to the Boss’ office or to the finance department – and he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your legs. You had these stockings that had a slight tear in the back, and he wondered if you realized, or was he just too much of a perverted loser to be the first person to notice? He wanted to purchase a new pair for you. He wanted to replace all your stockings and buy you enough that you could wear them with a skirt everyday, just so he could see you in them.
Maybe he was a loser.
You looked up at him, even in heels, and you had this way of smiling at him that left him questioning why you liked hanging out with him in the first place. His personality couldn’t be that charming to warrant your attention. But you were warm – even when your hands were perpetually cold – and kind, never straying once he was in front of you. And you had this lip gloss that stained your lips magenta and made them shine. Even in the dim fluorescent lights. When his chair turned just slightly and he let his eyes glaze over you, one finger rubbing at his top lip, he couldn’t help but be curious if the gloss had a flavor to it … and then, he’d get distracted by your legs again. And your blouse, and your hair.
Don’t even get him started on the way you smelled.
Maybe he was a loser. No, he was most definitely a loser.
It was a Thursday night. Almost 7 PM and you were still at the office. You had plans to go out tonight to celebrate your friend’s new job, but you ended up having to cancel when the Boss placed a stack of paperwork on your desk before leaving the building at promptly 6 o’clock. Why he couldn’t have given you all these invoices and memos hours ago was beyond you, but you weren’t even halfway through this stack and the janitor was now mopping beside you.
When a Slack notification appeared on the side of your monitor, you didn’t even read it before spinning around in your chair. There Wonwoo was, leaning back in his own chair while a progress window ticked on one of his dual monitors. You raised a brow. “I didn’t even hear you over there,” you commented. “Why are you still here?”
“A month or so ago, the IT head told me that we’d soon be transitioning servers, so all of our backups and data need to be transferred over to this new server.” He explained, adjusting his glasses and glancing over at the progress window. It changed from 23% to 24% finished. “Someone had to be the lucky person to stay after hours and make sure it all went smoothly.”
You twirled a pen in your two fingers and crossed your legs. “Oh, that sucks.” Your skirt hiked up a little, and just that small flash of exposed skin had Wonwoo averting his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m assuming you’re still here because of that.” He nodded towards the pile of paper.
“No, no, obviously I love being here after hours with you,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone, but it still ignited a short spark of hope within him. (Wonwoo, can you chill the fuck out? He chastised.) “You know the Boss has a penchant for letting invoices pile up. He just so happened to let that pile end up on my desk before he left today. And some of these needed to be filled out …” Your eyes skimmed the first paper on your desk. “Oh, yesterday!”
Wonwoo offered to help you while also keeping watch of his computer – 28% finished – but you insisted you could handle it. “I already bother you enough during work hours,” you said before turning back to your desk. He knew by now that you were simply too stubborn to give up control of the project. Once you had started it yourself, you needed to see it through. He wasn’t sure if you two were close enough that he could be completely honest, that he could tell you that it was fine to let go this independence that you kept on a tight leash. He was willing to help. (God, was he willing.)
But he chocked it up to telling you once that you were “so fucking stubborn.”
Your reply had come in the form of a swift kick to his knee.
Wonwoo glanced at his monitor. 67% finished.
It was 10 PM and you were just about finished with the paperwork, but you were running on fumes. Just a few memos left and you’d be done. To get you through the next hour, you needed something. So you headed to the break room, suddenly craving some burnt workplace coffee. (What was it about this coffee maker that gave it such a distinct burnt flavor? You’d never know.) After placing the pod of coffee grounds in the slot and filling the water, you pressed the start button, turning around with a huff to see Wonwoo striding into the break room. A crushed, styrofoam coffee cup was clutched in his large hand before he tossed it in the barrel beside you.
“How’s your transfer going?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Coffee had started to pour from the machine and into your cup.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s at 88% now. Hopefully should be done in the next hour.”
“Me too, if all goes well.” A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have a few more papers to fill out. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I haven’t looked through them all yet.”
Wonwoo stepped forward, reaching in the direction of the styrofoam cups. “If you had let me help you –”
You tried sidestepping out of the way to give him some room, but his hand brushed against your arm anyway. Your chin tilted up as your eyes met his, back pressing against the counter. “It wouldn’t have helped,” you finished for him.
His arm paused mid-air, and he looked down at you. Eyes narrowing, he replied, “You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. You have this desperate need to be in control of everything.”
“And why is that a bad thing?” Your tone took a hard edge. The last thing you wanted right now was to put effort into arguing, but you were tired and already on the edge of a breakdown. “I’ve relied on myself for as long as I can remember. I like being in control. I like being stubborn. If I didn’t do most things myself –”
“You ask me to fix something on your computer at least once a day.”
“That’s different.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, and you noticed then just how close he was. Your chests were practically touching. “Sometimes you do try to figure things out yourself and almost break your hard drive.”
His progress window was probably at 93% finished now. He should head back to his desk, but his feet stayed planted right where they were.
“Why does it matter?” You exhaled loud, your hands slapping against your hips. “Do you want an award or something? You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. I’m not perfect, but I … I like things the way they are.” Change is scary, you thought to yourself, but didn’t dare voice it out loud.
He was so close that he could smell your perfume. The scent of lavender mixed with orange blossoms and vanilla filled his nostrils, swirling around his brain. He could get addicted to this smell, to you. Maybe he already was. When his eyes roamed down to your legs and he saw his favorite pair of stockings on you, he damn near collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t even realized the soft groan had left his lips until your gaze found his, your pretty irises growing wide.
You were just so … captivating.
His hands were on both sides of you, pressing your back further into the counter. Your black coffee steaming and fully abandoned in the coffee machine. He was holding himself back, his knuckles going white with restraint. But he wasn’t like you. He could only keep himself in control for so long. And with you here right now, your perfume surrounding him, your stockings-clad thigh brushing against his leg, your a hand placed on his chest … he was a goner.
“Wonwoo,” you whispered, palm still resting on his shirt, “we …”
When your voice trailed off, Wonwoo’s instincts got the better of him. “Please, just …” One hand came up to smooth against your cheek, and he was almost out of breath as he pulled your face to his. “Let me do this.”
He gave you enough time to shove him back, to yell at him, to tell him you didn’t like him in that way. But your neck was craning towards his, and he took that as a sign to crash his lips onto yours. They were softer than he expected, and the taste … your gloss tasted like – well, like nothing. But if he pretended, he could’ve sworn there was a slight cherry aftertaste. His glasses bumped into your nose, but he’d been too overwhelmed to remember to take them off. Mouth moving against yours, his hips crammed you more against the counter, hard enough to leave a bruise on your spine. You didn’t care though. His shoulders were so wide that they shielded you, inviting your body into his, and your fingers fisted into his button-up. Tongues tangled, eager to taste more and more of each other.
Wonwoo could kiss you forever. You didn’t want him to stop.
But all good things must end. Because when he instinctively placed his leg between yours, he knew this was going too far. Especially because you two were still at work. In the break room.
He instantly removed his leg, his lips breaking from yours. Your eyes connected, the room filled with only the sounds of heavy breathing, before you wiped a trail of spit from your chin.
Wonwoo’s head spun behind him. Thank god, there was no CCTV camera by the coffee maker.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: Good morning.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: I shouldn’t have done that last night.
Jeon Wonwoo [9:10 AM]: Still friends?
You [9:14 AM]: We probably shouldn’t be talking about this on Slack
You [9:15 AM]: Here’s my number: 855-777-0821
You [9:18 AM]: But yes friends :D
Wonwoo did not want to be just friends. But he was utterly terrified of what you would say if he voiced that. You had kissed him back, yes, but … hadn’t you agreed to be friends far too quickly? You had both hung out post-kiss – he liked to call this period of time A.T.K. (after the kiss) – and you didn’t seem to be ruminating on it like he was. Of course, he didn’t know what you were thinking, and you could be so hard to read sometimes when your layers weren’t stripped back enough. But …
Could it really have meant nothing to you?
If that were the case, he didn’t know how it was possible for you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss even if he tried. When he saw you the next day – Friday, January 9, A.T.K. – the first thing he noticed was your lip gloss and all he wanted was to have it smeared over his mouth again. He noticed the way your hair fell over your shoulder, remembering how soft the strands felt when his fingers had slipped between them. He noticed that you were wearing those jeans that hugged your ass just right, and – god, now he was wishing that he had touched more than just your cheek. Wonwoo wanted to touch you everywhere. And vice versa. He didn’t care if your hands were constantly freezing or if they were dry during the winter. He wanted you to touch him however you pleased. He wanted to grab you and kiss you and hold those cold hands in his warm ones –
Oh, my god. He had a boner. At work. Just the mere memory of a kiss had him shifting himself in his pants underneath his desk, hoping no one noticed.
Eventually, he stood up, trying to keep a casual hand over the bulge in his pants as he fast walked to the bathroom. Nobody batted an eye, but you did steal a glance over at him once his back was turned. Your brow raised at the way he was practically sprinting for the elevator, not realizing that he was heading for the second floor restrooms. He must be excited for something. Probably a package, you thought before turning back to your computer.
Wonwoo felt like he could finally breathe once he was inside a stall. He rested his head against the cool tile wall, feeling the ache start to settle in his groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. What 28-year-old gets a boner from a kiss? You had him acting like a goddamn teenager.
What had you done to him? Just one kiss and he was completely under your spell.
(Or maybe he’d been this way all along.)
His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jeans as he finally pulled himself out of his jeans, stroking from base to tip. Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe his life had come to this. The last thing he ever wanted was to be that guy who jacked off in the bathroom. But you had to wear those goddamn jeans –
Wonwoo wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, but he was doing a pretty good job even as this was killing him inside. He wasn’t like you; he found it hard to restrain himself, to ignore everything that was bubbling up inside him. He could feel himself cracking. What would be the thing that finally broke him?
The answer was simple: alcohol.
Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: Dude lol. Why’d you run away from your desk like that
Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: I think you could win the Olympics with that kind of sprint!
Jeon Wonwoo [11:39 AM]: Don’t ask.
Lee Seokmin [11:40 AM]: Alrighty then ;)
Lee Seokmin [11:41 AM]: On another note … you free next Thursday? My buddy in the marketing department, Josh, finally has a night off from his kid so we were thinking of getting a group together for drinks after work. Interested?
The last thing you ever expected was to be invited to drinks with Seokmin and some of the managers in marketing, but Wonwoo said you should come. “In fact,” he had clarified, “you should come so I don’t have to deal with DK’s drunk antics all night.” Who were you to deprive him of your presence when he was that desperate? Plus, there was a nice girl in marketing that was also invited; maybe tonight was the night to befriend her.
But the marketing people knew how to party. You were only halfway through your second beer whereas the rest of your group was on their fourth. And three tequila shots deep. Wonwoo, seemingly, had an affinity for tequila, unlike yourself. He was able to throw them back like it was nothing; he didn’t even need a chaser. When Seokmin had requested they all get a fourth, he was met with a round of cheers, and even Wonwoo – quiet, introverted Wonwoo – threw his hands up with excitement. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure about that?”
Wonwoo felt his whole body freeze when your hot breath reached his ear. A pale, pink flush appeared on his cheeks, but you chocked it up to how drunk he was. Eventually, he waved away your worry with his hand. “I’m fiiiiiiiiine. Hey, how about I get you another beer?”
“Are you even coherent enough to get me another –”
“HEY! Bartender! Can I get one more of these?!” He shouted, waving your empty glass in the air. “Oh, and more tequila!”
Seokmin slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, laughing along with him. As you made friends with the rest of the marketing department, you found yourself glancing at Wonwoo every so often. His cheeks were so rosy now, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. To be fair though, everyone in this dive bar seemed to be in the same state of mind. Seokmin was singing along to the Sabrina Carpenter song blasting through the speakers. Josh was so drunk that he was crying about how much he loved his friends. They had even gotten Suzanne in finance to come out, and she was making friends with everyone for once. And Wonwoo … oh, god, Wonwoo’s head was now on the bar top and he was closing his eyes –
You abandoned your beer and walked over to your friend, shaking his shoulders. His eyes instantly opened, expecting to see Seokmin, but when his gaze met yours, he instantly felt all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” you said, trying your best to hoist this 6 foot man off the barstool, “you’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.”
It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell you his address, but you guessed you shouldn’t be surprised when the man on your arm was blackout drunk. After flagging a taxi, you shoved him in the seat next to you and rubbed your hands together to get them warm. Wonwoo’s head was on your shoulder the second you sat down, his eyes fluttering closed as the taxi sped off into the night. You watched his fingers twitch on his thigh as he whispered sleepily, “I think my family would really like you.”
“Is that so?” You chuckled, squeezing his arm for reassurance, but little did you know just how much your touch effected him. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re you,” he replied, and then yawned. “Only you and Mingyu would do this for me.”
Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Mingyu?”
The taxi pulled up to a brick apartment building then, and your cold fingers struggled to get cash out from your pocket while Wonwoo was practically laying on top of you. Finally, you did your best to haul him out of the seat, thanking the taxi driver before gathering an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. The building was definitely old with vines of ivy crawling up one side. There was a dead tree with snow covering it’s branches directly by the door, spilling snowflakes on your head as you struggled to input the code Wonwoo managed to remember. And then, you were pulling him up two flights of stairs, which took far longer than you estimated. You had basically ripped his keys from his hand once you reached his apartment and continued to drag him inside, laying him on the old couch that was conveniently right near the door.
Wonwoo grumbled as soon as his head hit the armrest, and he almost fell off the couch if it weren’t for you catching him and rolling him back onto the cushion. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water,” you said, quickly rushing off to his kitchen. “Please, for the love of god, don’t fall off the couch again.”
He whined for you to come back, but you pretended you didn’t hear it, because if you did, you’d have to reckon with the tingle that bloomed between your legs at the sound of his desperation.
The entrance of his kitchen was right in front of a small hallway that sectioned off two ways. There was a bedroom door on each side of the hall, and once you walked inside the kitchen, you found a tiny table from the 80s and the dishwasher currently running. You didn’t have time to contemplate that now, and instead pilfered through his cabinets until you found a glass and filled it with tap water. Rushing back to his side, Wonwoo was already laying halfway off the couch and you sighed.
You set the glass of water on his coffee table and lifted him back up. With a little bit of help from you, you both managed to shrug off his winter jacket and you tucked a throw blanket over him to prevent him from falling off again. A heavy exhale slipped past your lips as you knelt by his side, and you couldn’t help but reach out to pushed back his hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You smiled to yourself.
Were coworkers supposed to show this much affection for each other?
“Wonwoo,” you said softly, and he cracked one eye open. “Do you want some water?”
He shut that eye again, grimacing at the thought of anything entering his body right now. “Ab…absolutely not.”
“It’ll make you feel better,” you persuaded, but he still shook his head. “Okay, so what do you want right now?”
His breath stilled for a moment. “Can I be honest?”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“I …” No, he couldn’t be that honest. “I want you to … keep p–pushing back my hair. It’s … relaxing.”
You chuckled, “Okay, you got it.” Your fingers were at the crown of his head again, smoothing back the strands. You hadn’t noticed until now that he had a freckle on the left side of his forehead; maybe you’d just never been this close to notice. Well, actually, you had. There was this thing you two did called a kiss –
“If you’re going to fall asleep, I’m going to take off your glasses,” you informed him, slipping his glasses off and setting them by his glass of water. It was late, much later than you anticipated on staying out, and you both still had to go to work tomorrow.
But then his hand was grabbing your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for how intoxicated he was. “Can I b–be honest again?” He slurred, his eyes half open to meet yours.
You sighed, placing your hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just know whatever you say will be used to make fun of you tomorrow –”
“I can’t … I haven’t …” He took a breath to formulate the words in his head. “… Stopped thinking about our kiss.”
You blinked down at him, watching the way his eyes began to close again as he relaxed into the old couch cushions. “You can’t just say shit like –”
He scoffed dramatically. “I’m noooot,” he defended, his hand slipping off your wrist to curl underneath the blanket.
“Wonwoo …” Your voice trailed off, the words dying on your tongue.
“Who the hell are you?”
You immediately got to your feet at the sound of another person’s voice behind you. Eyes growing wide, you took in the sight of the man in front of you wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chiseled abdomen as he shook a smaller towel through his hair. He might’ve been taller than Wonwoo, only by a little bit, and his skin was a golden tan that reminded you of summertime even in this harsh winter. Why was Wonwoo hiding handsome men in his apartment? The man looked at you, waiting for an answer, his brows raised.
“Oh,” you cleared your throat. “Um …”
“Leave her alone, Mingyu,” Wonwoo groaned from the couch, turning away from them to lay on his side.
So this was Mingyu, you concluded. This slightly god-like dude that looked like he walked straight out of a porno was the only other person who’d help Wonwoo when he was blackout drunk. Interesting.
Mingyu raised his hand awkwardly for you to shake. “His roommate,” he clarified.
“Oh,” you replied, grasping his hand for a moment and telling him your name.
Mingyu instantly grinned, laying the small towel over his neck, holding both ends. “So you’re her.”
You blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Perhaps there was no way to respond; the silence was comfortable enough. You decided to keep that in mind for later though.
“He’s … well, he got very drunk,” you informed Mingyu, gesturing to a now-sleeping Wonwoo with both thumbs. “I wanted to make sure he got home okay.”
Mingyu nodded, and then sighed. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry,” he promised, opening up the door for you. “Get home safe, okay?”
Wonwoo: Sorry about that the other night. I won’t get drunk like that again. It doesn’t happen very often
You: it’s okay! I’m used to handling drunk people
You: don’t get me wrong, I like to have my fun but it’s easier for me to take care of other people than like … be incoherent and anxious lol
Wonwoo: By the end of the night I was starting to feel that way. Not fun
You: DRINK WATER
You: your roommate is hot btw. does he always walk around without a shirt?
Wonwoo: Of course, he didn’t have a shirt on when you met him
Wonwoo: Everyone likes Mingyu
You: well, I like you [UNSENT]
The bi-annual sales meeting was started to boost morale and talk with other departments that you didn’t see as often. It was typically held at a hotel in the downtown city, with the company flying in all the sales reps from across the country. There were even a few from overseas. In reality though, this was usually the week where coworkers made mistakes. At least one person was let go after these sales meetings, and HR had their eyes peeled for an entire week.
You never made a mistake at one of these. And you didn’t expect to any time soon.
This was a week of rubbing elbows with slimy sales reps and making sure some old man hadn’t spiked your drink. For most, this was a week to slack off, but a woman working in corporate couldn’t relax in these settings. You’d been making corrections to your boss’ presentation for the entire company for what felt like forever. (Realistically, it’d been almost two weeks.) You probably went through the 50 slides at least twice as much, checking for spelling mistakes and making sure it was in the right place on your desktop. Not on some random external hard drive. Not in the trash.
But it was finally the day you’d been dreading. Presentation day, and everyone at the company was eager to hear the Boss reveal if they hit their goal for the year, amongst other things. You checked the slides another time, and then made sure no one would trip over the HDMI cord connected to the projector. The Boss gave you a reassuring smile, and then it was go time.
Your boss could be a shit bag – what CEO wasn’t? – but he had a way of speaking that made everyone so excited for the future. He was probably the reason why morale was always so high, and everyone looked forward to his presentation at these meetings. Your finger hovered over the right arrow button as he went through his speech, pointing out company statistics and what he wanted them all to accomplish this year, before finally getting to the goal reach. And his answer was nothing short of what the audience wanted to hear. He congratulated all of them, and everyone clapped together at the good news.
When you looked out at the crowd that had gathered, you realized almost every seat in the ballroom was filled. Some were even standing near the door and – wait, there was Wonwoo, leaning against the wall in the back. IT didn’t need to be here for this presentation. In fact, they were encouraged to be doing other things, like manning a table near HR and offering on-the-spot tech help. A smile made it’s way to your lips, watching the way Wonwoo was listening intently.
Once the presentation was over and the room erupted in small talk, your boss came over and thanked you for helping out yet again. “Of course,” you replied, as if there was anything else to say. He gave you a comforting squeeze of the hand before walking off to talk to some of his favorite sales reps.
As you shut your laptop and began to place your things in your backpack, Wonwoo slipped into the chair beside yours. Just the sight of his grin set you at ease, but also made you nervous at the same time. Why were you suddenly so nervous? This was just Wonwoo.
Just Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo. Just … your Wonwoo.
“Congratulations,” he beamed, giving you a high five. “I know you’ve been working on this all week, but you did it!”
You always stressed so much about this presentation, but at the end of the day … “All I did was press a button,” you shrugged.
Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t accidentally delete your file like every other time you’ve messaged me on Slack.” He chuckled, and you scoffed at his teasing. “I’d call that a win.”
The second to last night of sales meeting week was the longest night of the year. It was a tradition for everyone to go out to a bar the company rented out, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on while celebrating a job well done. You only saw half these people twice a year, and half of the time they’d have a beer in their hands.
You did your best to ignore every sales rep that tried to speak with you without slurring their words, but that was damn near impossible when some were already on their second cocktail. However, no matter how embarrassing it was, you did allow them to compliment you and your hard work. Who were you to turn down the validation? And when the time came, even your boss came over to compliment you again, and you realized there was truly nothing like being good at your job.
Just for a moment, everything felt okay. It was like the loneliness dissipated, the sting of years without pleasure or having someone by your side … it all faded when you were rewarded for your hard work.
Maybe tonight was the night you had fun for once.
When you finally found Wonwoo later that night, he was surrounded by a few younger members of the IT team, debating what computer language everyone should be obligated to learn. You waved to him from where you stood by the bar top, and that was all it took to have him walking away from his team and towards you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, insisting to buy you drinks for the rest of the night, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. If there was anyone here you trusted enough to hand you a drink, it was Wonwoo.
Just Wonwoo.
The hour was reaching midnight now, and you weren’t sure how many martinis you had, but you were hiccuping a storm. That was a telltale sign that you were totally, thoroughly drunk. Wonwoo was only drinking beer and pacing himself, unlike that night at the dive bar, but he was enjoying the sight of you finally letting loose. You hung on his arm, staring up at him with your big eyes, glazing over from all the alcohol coursing through your system. He didn’t like how this effected him; he shouldn’t be attracted to the way your gaze looked while you were intoxicated. But he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes held the same shine while your lips were wrapped around his –
No, this was too much. He should take you back to the hotel.
The two of you glanced around the bar, realizing it was mostly cleared out. You definitely needed to leave now.
He tugged on your arm, wrapping one of his around your waist to support you. “C’mon now,” he grunted, helping you walk out. “Let’s get you back.”
“I didn’t f–finish my drink thoooooough,” you argued, despite letting him lead you out of the bar. “And I can walk … on my own. Swear!”
“Listen, you took care of me once,” he said as you two walked into the brisk cold air. The hotel was, thankfully, only a block away. “Let me take care of you.”
Even with the alcohol pumping in your veins, just the sound of those words falling from his mouth made you grip him tighter. You felt like your bones were made of jelly, and it wasn’t just from the vodka. It was him, and the way he made you feel, and how secretly warm he was, and the way he took care of you as you took care of him, and – oh, god, you wanted to cry because you liked Jeon Wonwoo so much.
So, so much.
It was much easier to get you back to your hotel room than his apartment, seeing as this hotel had a working elevator. You slumped beside him, tripping over your feet every so often, as he hauled you down the hallway to your room. You gave him your keycard easily, and once the door was open, he squeezed your hand to silently let you know it was time to move again. He helped you into the room, shutting the door behind him, before laying you down on your bed with the clumsiness only he could have.
You were laughing now, hiccuping from the alcohol, but laughing nonetheless. And he was laughing at your hiccups. Or maybe he just liked the way you grinned at him.
He assisted with taking off your boots and jacket, too embarrassed to remove anything else. And it definitely wasn’t appropriate to either. Tearing back the covers, he nestled you underneath them, and said, “You got everything, right? I’m a call away if you need me.” He grabbed one of the small trash cans in the room and placed it at your bedside. “If you need to vomit and can’t make it to the bathroom, just use the trash can here –”
You hand came out to wrap around his forearm. “Stay, Wonwoo.”
Your sleepy eyes were killing him, making his inhibitions melt and his cock throb at the same time. He sighed, sitting on the side of the mattress, and before he could stop himself, he was tucking hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, his voice like a caress. “You know how it would look if someone saw me leave this room tomorrow morning. HR is on all our asses this week.”
“I know,” you slurred, and then pressed your flushed cheek into his palm. “I j–just thought you … were taking care of me thoooooooough …”
His resolve crumbled into a million pieces. This was complete, utter torture. You had to know how you effected him, but of course you didn’t, because you were stretching under the covers and yawning like you didn’t just make his heart stop.
That’s how he ended up in your bed, shutting off the lights and settling underneath the comforter. Until you came closer and rested your head on his chest. Despite how fast his heart was beating, he felt so at peace, and you both fell asleep in the clothes you wore out tonight.
Only a few hours later, you woke with a clear head and the beginning of a hangover. Your head was pounding like crazy, and it took everything in you to slip out from the comfort of your bed and pad your feet over to the bathroom. The bright light was burning your eyes, but you needed it to find the Tylenol you left by the sink. Filling a cup with water, you took the medication and prayed it worked sooner rather than later.
You squinted at yourself in the mirror, realizing you were still in the outfit you wore yesterday. With a sigh, you picked up the big t-shirt you left on the floor yesterday morning and stripped yourself until you were in nothing but your underwear. You pulled the t-shirt on and slumped against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold tile. Now this felt like heaven for your headache.
It took a couple of minutes to get yourself to move again, feet slapping against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom. You noticed Wonwoo was awake too, in the midst of slinking back under the covers, and you saw his jeans abandoned by his bedside.You crawled back to your cocoon of blankets, and he instantly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And you … you didn’t move away. In fact, you pressed yourself closer, finally hearing how his heart raced. Wonwoo didn’t care if it was probably 4 AM and he probably had to leave in a few hours – before anyone else woke – because he was holding you and smelling you hair. You smelled … god, you smelled so good that it made him hard almost instantly.
You felt his hand splay against your spine, as if trying to hold himself back, and it was then that your eyes opened. The room was dark, but you knew when his gaze was burning into yours only seconds later. You slipped one hand out from the covers, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed over his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered a soft, “Shit,” because you both knew where this was going.
You agreed you wouldn’t do this again. You agreed to be friends.
But now you’re kissing again.
Your hand moved from his face to his neck, and his hands are gripping your cheeks to make sure your mouth stayed on his. His fingers were shaking. He kissed you desperately, as if he needed this just to be able to breathe again, and maybe he did. You were like putty in his hands, molding yourself to his body as your tongue tangled with his. Whatever ache you felt in your temples drifted between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. And fuck, just the sound of you made his cock swell, precum soaking through his boxers.
The room felt so hot all of a sudden, but your cold hands came in handy as they rested on his neck. His left hand slid down to your ass, finally giving it a firm squeeze after kicking himself for not doing it when he first kissed you. That made you moan again, and he decided he’d never stop touching you like this, just so he could hear these sounds fall from your lips.
He slid his knee between your legs on instinct, and you didn’t hesitate to start grinding against his thigh. The friction felt delicious and soothing. You both kissed each other slower, a little messier, focusing on touching each other everywhere you dreamed about all these months. Your fingers traced down the column of his neck, down the thin cotton of the shirt he was still wearing from yesterday, while bucking against his thigh. His lips left yours, dragging across your cheek so he could nibble on your earlobe, feeling it grow warm and red from all the attention. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed you,” he whispered, and you damn near almost came from that confession.
You weren’t used to this; you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced pleasure like this with someone, but you couldn’t imagine stopping. Not when he angled his thigh just right, the muscle in his leg rubbing against your clit, your panties completely soaked. You cupped him over his boxers, feeling his bulge throb in your palm, and you cooed, “Can I …”
He groaned. You didn’t need to say more; Wonwoo was smart enough to know what you were insinuating. He felt disoriented, drunk off of you and your touch, smell, everything. “Are you … are you sure you don’t want to …” His voice was giving out, but from the way your fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, you knew you wanted just this, and he’d give you whatever you wanted. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s fine,” he finished.
You chuckled softly. He smiled against your neck. Pulling his cock out and wrapping your palm around it, you began to stroke him slowly. “Oh, god,” he was sighing into the crook of your neck, his brain in such a state of disarray when you resumed grinding against his leg while also pumping him from base to tip. This couldn’t be real; he had to be dreaming, but he could feel your wet panties sticking to his thigh. He could feel himself shake as he clung to you and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your throat. It was all too much, but not enough at the same time.
“Wonwoo,” you whimpered, and he dragged his lips back to yours just to feel how your mouth moved when you said his name. You bucked your hips faster, your arousal coating his thigh, and warmth bloomed between your legs. When your hand on his cock reached his head again, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over his slit, making more precum bead onto your knuckles. “Wanna cum with you,” you begged, stroking him faster and in time with your hips.
“I know you do, I know,” he breathed against your lips. “Just a little faster … yes, just like that. Fuck.”
Only a moment later were you trembling, hips stuttering as pleasure took over your body. You came hard, squeezing his thigh between your legs, and your cry was swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips. If he didn’t kiss you, he knew he’d moan so loud it would wake the entire hotel. Because – oh, god, he was cumming now, and he was sighing against your mouth as he erupted in your hand, ropes of cum staining your t-shirt. He could’ve swore he saw white. He’d never felt a release like this before; not with anyone else. Not even when he jerked off. But maybe it was because this was your hand and you were cumming on his leg, and fuck –
You were still shaking in each other’s arms, minds blank and reeling, bodies coming down from the high. It took the kind of strength that moved mountains to slip from his arms and clean yourself up. But by the time you came back from the bathroom and cuddled up next to him, Wonwoo was already fast asleep.
Jeon Wonwoo [6:08 AM]: I had to leave early this morning before anyone woke. But if you want, I’d like to see you at breakfast this morning :)
You [7:31 AM]: Jeon Wonwoo, I’m begging you to just text this to me
You [7:31 AM]: Also, was your phone hacked? Since when do you use emojis?
There wasn’t much to do on the last day of sales meeting week. The only things on your plate were to make niceties with some of the new reps, and probably attend a few presentations by HR. When you had finally woken up this morning to just you in the bed, you almost considered skipping the HR presentations, feeling too guilty and like they might see right through you. It was irrational, but you were sure that this was the only way to feel after realizing that you hooked up with your coworker and friend.
Not that you hadn’t wanted to. Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it since your kiss. No, it wasn’t like that at all.
So why were suddenly terrified to see him at breakfast?
You got ready as quick as you could – but of course, making sure you wore that V-neck sweater that showed off your cleavage just right – and threw your hair up before leaving your hotel room. The line for the breakfast buffet was packed, but you waited patiently and decided to sit near the bar once you plate was full. The rest of the dining room was filled with people and you weren’t awake enough to make shitty small talk. Sitting here at the bar top was peaceful and quiet –
“Is this … seat taken?”
Your eyes met his instantly, and you noticed the way Wonwoo was cringing at the line he threw at you. You decided to forget it, for his sake, and gestured for him to sit down. Fuck, you were so goddamn nervous, even though you had agreed to meet him in the first place. You wore this low-cut sweater for him. You both sat in silence for a bit, crunching awkwardly on the burnt bacon, and shifting in your seats.
“Did you …” You were surprised that your mouth was moving on it’s own volition, spilling any words that came to your head. “… Do anything this morning since you were up early?”
Wonwoo choked a bit on a strawberry, but recovered quickly. “Uh … yeah, yeah, sure. Once I came down here, one of the IT interns found me in a panic because he couldn’t set up one of the rep’s new work phones. Created a whole scene over nothing.”
You snorted and sipped your coffee. “Is that intern still breathing?”
His eyes flickered to yours, a slow smile growing on his face. “Yes, actually.”
You fell into sync then, letting the awkward silence melt away as you joked about Wonwoo’s interns. He wasn’t meant to teach college students, god help them. But as your plates became empty and a server came around to take them, you two were left with only the mugs in your hands, strangely reminiscent of that apology coffee he bought for you so long ago.
Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, so about last night – or I guess, this morning …”
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you interjected, setting your coffee down. “I have a hangover, but I am thriving.”
He blinked. “Well, that’s good. But I was referring to –”
You almost couldn’t look at him when you said, “The fact that we’re definitely not just friends anymore?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that part.”
“I …” You licked your lips as you gathered yourself. There was this … terrifying flutter in your chest. You’d never felt something like this before, but you weren’t keen on letting it go. Not yet. “I would like to see you again. Like that. Definitely not during work hours. If you catch my drift. This is awkward.”
Wonwoo had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see him trying to hold in his laughter, but it was clear as day. You sighed loud and hit his arm, making him look at you once again as he snickered to himself. “You know, you could just ask me if I want to hang out.”
You leveled a look at him and huffed. “Okay, Wonwoo, do you –”
“Yes,” he beamed. “Always, yes.”
You found yourself at Wonwoo’s side more often than not. What used to be work get togethers transitioned to meeting up at a bar, or checking a new restaurant on the weekends. Sometimes he’d ask you to come over so you could taste test a new recipe he found. (Unfortunately for both of you, Wonwoo wasn’t very good at cooking, but he was getting better. Somewhat.) Those recipe nights, however, always led to him lifting you up on his creaky kitchen counter and kissing you so hard that you almost forgot to breathe. Until Mingyu came into the kitchen, making a gagging sound, and you two instantly detached from each other.
Friday nights were known as Mingyu’s Movie Nights, and Wonwoo began inviting you to those. He had said that this would help knock a few movies off your Letterboxd Watchlist, but you knew that was just an excuse for wanting to see you. You probably saw him more than anyone now, but you couldn’t deny that you … wanted to see him too. Having him in your life made everything suddenly better. He was kind and smart and thoughtful. He made you laugh in ways you couldn’t explain, and obviously … he didn’t have to do much to make you want him. He’d simply have to look at you and you’d get on his lap. If Mingyu wasn’t there, of course.
Wonwoo seemed to blossomed with you. He was more excited to leave his apartment, more eager to become a better cook. He spoke up often, whether it be at work or out with you, rather than letting someone talk. He wanted to learn all the things that you liked, wanted to touch you exactly where you needed it, wanted to find new ways to leave you breathless. Because it was for you.
Even Mingyu noticed a difference in his friend. He’d known Wonwoo for so many years now, but he’d never made this much of a change for anyone. One night, when you and Mingyu were alone in the kitchen, he mentioned, “He’s different around you.” And then kept pouring wine in three glasses while Wonwoo picked a movie from the living room.
There were also times where Wonwoo was a booty call, of course, and neither of you had any problems with that. Some nights, Wonwoo would call you after Mingyu went to bed, begging you to come over, but ended up settling for phone sex. His attraction to you in stockings only went up, and it was difficult for him to contain his arousal at work when you strutted around just knowing how it affected him. There was days where all he wanted to do was pull you into a janitor closet and fuck the living daylights out of you. But it wasn’t like you’d let him anyway.
You had your fair share of desperate moments too. Especially tonight, as you were out drinking with your friends at a local spot you’d been coming to for years. The live band was loud and you’d had your fair share of shitty margaritas already. One of your friends was tugging on the arm of some rando she met on the dance floor, yelling over the music that she was leaving and she’d text you when she was home safe. That left you shit out of luck for a ride home, and suddenly very lonely. The last thing you wanted was to drink alone at a shitty bar on a Saturday night.
Wandering outside, your heeled boots crunched in the snow as you looked for the nearest Uber. The fastest one around would take over 20 minutes to get to you, and as you looked around the empty city streets … wait, didn’t Wonwoo live around here? Maybe all the tequila was just getting to you. But you called him anyway, and despite the time reaching 1 AM, he answered instantly. He heard the slight lisp in your voice, and once he got out of you exactly where you were, he realized you were right. It only took him about 10 minutes to get to where you were, parking on the side of the road.
He sighed at the sight of you sitting on the curb, shivering and hugging your jacket around you. Various drunk people filtered in and out of the bar, but none of them checked on you – a freezing girl just sitting on the side of the road. “Why didn’t you wait inside for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your cheek when he pulled you up in his arms. Your dress rode up a little, and his hands were quick to yank it back down. “It’s the middle of winter.”
“I jusssst thought … the cold air would sssssober me up,” you slurred, letting him place you in his passenger seat before running back over to the driver’s side. His car was warm, making you bury yourself in your jacket, but his hand on your thigh was even warmer somehow. If your fingers weren’t so cold, you’d wrap your hand around his wrist, inching his palm up higher as he drove.
Once he was parked, he wasted no time getting you out and helping you up the stairs to his apartment. Mingyu was passed out on the couch, an old movie from the 80s playing on the TV, but you could hardly register it because your brain was spinning and Wonwoo was practically dragging you to his bedroom. He was grateful that all the lights were off so you couldn’t see how messy it was, but honestly, it was a miracle if you could see anything clearly right now.
He sat you down on the bed and you looked up at him with bleary eyes, which made you so fucking hard to resist. All the tequila you drank was pumping through your bloodstream, and you couldn’t help but fist your hands in his t-shirt and try to kiss him. He evaded your lips though – no matter how much he wanted to – and you whined, “Whyyyyyy won’t you kiss me?”
“Shhh …” He whispered, yanking off your boots. “Inside voice. Mingyu’s sleeping.”
You smacked your hands against his mattress. “He’s sleeping in the living room!”
Wonwoo got back to his feet, gesturing as he instructed, “Arms up.” You were too intoxicated to do anything but oblige, lifting your arms as he struggled to pull your dress over your head. Once it was off and thrown to the side with your boots, your hazy vision caught him looking through his drawers for clothes for you to wear. But didn’t he just take your clothes off? You could’ve sworn he did that because he wanted you too right now.
You protested when he tried putting you in one of his simple white tees, but your body felt too limp to fight. He slipped the shirt over your head before pulling back his comforter and wrapping you in it. With your eyes half open, you watched him come to the other side of the bed, yanking his pants down and crawling in bed beside you. He reached over you and set his glasses on the side table. You sighed dramatically. Now he was just torturing you. Wonwoo simply chuckled to himself, realizing what you were angry about.
His arms instantly wound around you, his lips pulled into a smile at your hairline. You looked up at him with a scowl and your voice slurred, “Whysss your eyes closed?”
Wonwoo snickered under his breath. “Because it’s late and I’m tired.” His hand on your lower back traced circles, attempting to coax you to sleep.
“I thought you wanted meeeee,” you complained. Your hand reached in between you two, smoothing your palm against his groin as he slowly started to harden under your touch. You heard his breath hitch slightly, so you kept going, a soft ache beginning between your own legs at just the thought of putting him in your mouth.
“Sweetheart, I always want you.” He then grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from him, and then lacing your fingers together. Pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, he sighed sleepily, “But you’re much sexier when you’re sober.”
You started to realize why you didn’t usually do this, why it had been so long since you let someone see every part of you. What you looked like completely stripped down – both inside and out – completely vulnerable for your person. How your face contorted during pleasure, and how it relaxed when you were taken care of.
Catching feelings like this meant giving up control.
You didn’t work on the weekends unless you had to, and when the Boss sent you a high priority email on Saturday morning, you didn’t hesitate. He had transferred over a bunch of sensitive files that were needed for a board presentation first thing Monday morning. But of course, something just had to go wrong: the files were corrupted and you had no way of figuring out what to do. And it wasn’t like your boss was on call like you were on a Saturday.
This was how you ended up at Wonwoo’s apartment.
You had called him in a panic, explaining what had went wrong, but he didn’t seem too fazed. He was used to your tech emergencies by now. But by the time you got to his apartment, out of breath after running from the train station, he had realized just how serious you were taking this. You both sat down on his couch and you let him work his magic. His fingers moved across the keys as if he were a musician, and you couldn’t stop biting your nail nervously.
Mingyu came back to the apartment after grocery shopping, waving at you before putting all the food away. Seeing as you were here, maybe they could all go out and have fun tonight. He went into the living room, ready to mention a band that was playing at a local venue later, but upon seeing the stressed look on both your faces, he exhaled. “It’s a Saturday,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why do you two look like that?”
“Corrupted documents,” Wonwoo answered quickly, not even looking up from the monitor.
“I don’t even want to know more,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack and tugging his arms through the sleeves. “Just your faces are making me anxious. I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”
You gave Mingyu a wave as he left, but Wonwoo was too focused to even say goodbye. It took about another hour and one cup of coffee, but Wonwoo eventually figured out how to uncorrupt the files. You let out a sigh of relief as he handed the laptop back to you and you were able to open each of them without issue. Thank god, you had managed to figure this out before Monday morning. And … having Wonwoo wasn’t too bad either.
“Thank you,” you beamed, not being able to resist pinching his cheek. “My hero.”
Silence engulfed the room as you both noticed how the sky was already getting dark. You cleared your throat, slipping your laptop back into your bag and muttering, “Thanks again. I know I kind of barged in and wasted your Saturday afternoon –”
Like the saint he was, Wonwoo simply smiled at you. “No time with you is a waste.”
Whatever words you were about to say clogged in your throat. You swallowed hard, attempting to hide your fluster, but you ended up choking out, “I … should go.”
“You don’t have to.” He stood from the couch, walking over to you and running his hands down your arms. His brow lifted. “Do you want to?”
You let the strap of your bag fall to the floor as your hands cupped his neck. “No, not particularly.”
Wonwoo chuckled, leaning in and letting his lips just lightly graze yours. “We have the place to ourselves,” he hummed, slowly dragging you backwards with him. “Mingyu’s gone … probably won’t be back until midnight.”
You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, letting him lead you to his room, as limp as a rag doll. Once he shut his bedroom door behind you, he flicked the light on. You pressed your back against the door and your eyes roamed around the space. This was the first time you saw his bedroom with the light on; every other time had been pitch black. You liked that his walls weren’t bare – they were filled with posters of his favorite musicians or photographs. On his desk was a large monitor and a gaming set up, but also a camera with stacks of film next to it. His furniture was old – probably from the 90s, probably passed down from his family – but the scratches within the wood told a story. And unlike most men, his sheets were gray.
Wonwoo realized you were scanning his room, and he became acutely aware of the clothes scattered amongst his floor. He muttered something to himself, beginning to pick up the clothes piles and chuck them into his hamper. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I inherited the organized gene like Mingyu.”
You tilted your head, striding over and pulling him up, making him halt his actions. Your hands went to his face as you brought him closer. With a smile, you whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mingyu,” before pressing your lips to his.
The kiss became deep far too quickly, or maybe time was passing faster than usual. Your lips crashed so hard against his that they’d bruise. He took off his glasses, setting them on his drawer, before his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans. You stepped forward, making him step back, then another, and another – until you had him falling back on his bed. You straddled him, arching your back so you could lick into his mouth just how he liked. Hands sliding up his shirt, you felt his abdomen flex underneath you. His fingers in your belt loops jerked you closer, pressing your hips to his, and it wasn’t long before he was moaning into the kiss.
You smiled against his mouth, dragging your lips down his neck, and then even further, as you slinked down his body. Your eyes were trained on his, and he was trying his best not to look like a complete idiot in front of you. But it was difficult when you were looking at him with those eyes and – oh, now you were pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, practically salivating when you noticed how hard he was already.
But … this was what you guys always did. Not that he had an issue with you giving him blow jobs, but none of this felt particularly intimate. You never really let him worship you; you took control of the entire situation. As if you were bringing your professional stubbornness to the bedroom.
“Wait,” he choked out as you palmed his growing bulge. “Can we … can we try something different?”
Your brows furrowed and you continued pressing sloppy kisses above his groin. “Why would we do that?”
Wonwoo let out a frustrated sound, and before you could prepare yourself, he was yanking his pants back up and pinning you underneath him. You blinked up at him in surprise, and he was gripping your wrists above your head now, his bodyweight pressing you into the mattress. He almost looked shocked that he had the strength to push you back, but his blown-out pupils gave away his true desire.
“What was that for?” You asked incredulously. Nerves clouded your thoughts, making you stutter. “I thought … I thought you liked …”
“No, trust me, I do,” he assured you, and then tipped his head as he gazed down at you. “I just … why won’t you let me take care of you?”
You scoffed then, trying to cover up how petrifying this conversation was becoming. Were you that transparent now, or did he simply know you far too well for your own good?
“I have no idea what you’re –”
Wonwoo gave you one of his infamous leveled looks, and you sighed. “You’re in constant need of seeking control when it’s always at your fingertips. It’s okay to let it go; it won’t slip away.” He let go of your wrists then, but kept his body hovering over yours, holding himself up by his elbows resting near your head. “Please, just … surrender it for once. Let me take the lead.”
You glanced down at your hands on your chest, twiddling your thumbs. Eventually, you murmured, “It’s hard. I’ve never done that before.”
“Can we try? I like …” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then let his head fall as he chuckled to himself. “This is so awkward. I just – I like prioritizing your pleasure. It feels much better for me and I think it will for you too. And if you don’t like it –”
“I’m not good with change,” you blurted.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice taking on that husky tone that made warmth pool in your stomach. His eyes flickered to your lips now, noticing how swollen they still were. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. It was just a suggestion, and I probably ruined the mood.”
You shook your head immediately, allowing your fingers to tenderly sweep over his shirt. “No, I …” A voice in the back of your head told you this was a good thing, and you did want this, but the fear of change was overwhelming. You wanted to step out of your comfort zone, desperately, for once. You were allowed to do this; you were allowed to be happy.
Your gaze met his again. “I want to try.”
His eyes softened with affection, but then he asked, “You’re not just agreeing for my sake, right?”
“Now when have I ever done that?” You laughed, making him smile along with you.
But as soon as his mouth met yours, that awkward, giggling persona seemed to melt away. Jeon Wonwoo morphed into an entirely different person, someone that possessed your jaw in his large hand, pulling at your bottom lip before kissing you harder. It was enough to leave you gasping for air once he pulled away, spit connecting you two, and he continued to suck and nip his way down your throat. He made sure to leave marks in places that could be covered up for work, but he’d know exactly where they were. God, would he even be able to control himself at his desk, knowing where his bites were hiding under your clothes?
Tugging your sweater over your head, he practically whined at the sight of your breasts, constricted in the bra that you told him was too old once, but you kept wearing it anyway because he said it was cute. He lifted you for a moment, expertly removing it with one hand, before licking the valley between your breasts. You arched into him, sighing into your arm when he swirled his tongue around your taut nipple. He glanced up and realized you were hiding your face, so he pushed your hand off. “I want you to look at me while I do this,” he cooed, but it sounded more like a demand.
Despite the embarrassment, you did as he asked, feeling completely bewitched as you watched him cup the swell of your breast, tugging on your nipple. This felt like a goddamn Pornhub video. You two have had sex before, yes, but not like this. Never like this. Wonwoo had always let you do what you were comfortable with, keeping his other side at bay while you rode him hard on the couch. But this … this felt like something else entirely. The way he was lavishing both your nipples, coating them with his spit, demanding you to watch … Expletives filtered softly from your mouth, wetness gathering between your thighs. It suddenly felt too hot and your jeans were still on.
Wonwoo was taking his time with you though, and it was very clear to you that this wouldn’t just be one of those nights where you had sex for 10 minutes before ordering pizza. When he lifted his mouth from your left nipple, he asked calmly, “Do you like this or do you want more?”
You sneered, “Well, of course, I like –”
His hand came up instantly to pinch your other nipple, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that came out of your mouth. “No teasing,” he said, lowering his head to flick that nipple with his tongue. “Just answer me.”
“More,” you choked out, your hips arching off the bed, seeking friction. “Please, more.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss between your breasts once again, before lowering himself down your body. His eyes never left yours as he dragged his lips down your stomach. Eventually, he had to stand from the bed so he could finally unzip your pants, tugging when they got stuck around your ankles. When the cold air hit between your legs, you realized how soaked you were already. Wonwoo smirked to himself, slowly rolling your panties down your legs.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you joked, kicking your panties off into a pile by his bed.
He lifted your ankle, nipping playfully, and replied, “Told you that you’d like me taking the lead.”
You rolled your eyes as he settled between your thighs, bending your knees back so your feet rested beside his head. You bit your lip as he placed sloppy kisses on your inner thigh, biting hard enough to make a bruise. Wonwoo fought hard to maintain a sense of composure, but god, the sight of your pretty pussy oozing slick made him wonder if he could cum untouched. You had let him finger you before, but had never been in the mood for this. And this was something Wonwoo had been fantasizing about since the day he noticed that tear in your stockings. He could jump for joy if that didn’t make him look like an absolute fucking loser.
He pushed your folds apart with two fingers, running a hand down his face as he attempted to school his expression. It was just so fucking hard to act cool when you were this aroused. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, deciding to quip, “Wonwoo, can you even find the clit without your glasses on –”
Without warning, he spit on your pussy and buried his face between your thighs. The words died on your tongue immediately, and you let out the loudest whine he’d ever heard in his life. He smiled, but that didn’t deter him from circling his tongue around your clit. He wound one of his arms around your thigh, holding you in place as he pressed his face further.
Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked and drew out the prettiest sounds from you, using his free hand to slip two fingers inside you. You tasted exactly like he dreamed about, sweet and tangy and so unmistakably you. He looked up at you from between your legs, curling his fingers in the spot that made tears prick at your eyes, and when your gaze found his, it was like something in him snapped. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled, feasting at you like he’d been starved for days.
Your fingers were in his hair now, pressing his head more into you, which only made this more enjoyable for him. He nearly came in his pants when your hips began to buck against his face, but this was about you. And him experiencing you cumming on his face. But mostly you. His fingers pumped faster inside you and his tongue was now flicking your clit, allowing more of your arousal to invade his mouth. He’d never get tired of this taste; he was obsessed. Now that he finally got a taste of you … he never wanted to not be doing this. Never wanted his face too far from the apex of your legs. Not when you had the sweetest taste that could move heaven and earth between these thighs.
And when you finally came on his tongue, he noticed that your legs shook like an earthquake. Your essence flooded his mouth, and he moaned – god, did he moan – lapping at you, never missing a drop of what you gave him. His fingers kept curling inside of you, making your orgasm feel like forever. When he finally removed them with a wet pop, he didn’t miss the opportunity to have more of you, wrapping his mouth around those two fingers and licking off the last of your release. You watched him, completely mesmerized by the way he savored you, even darting his tongue out to capture the whatever seeped out of you. Your hips jolted, suddenly so sensitive, and he grinned up at you.
You hardly caught your breath before he crawling up your body, kissing you hard and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and when you ripped your lips away from his, you arched a brow. “You are still fully clothed,” you reminded, and then swiped at the spit lining his bottom lip.
Wonwoo simply smiled, ghosting his lips over yours before trailing them to your ear. “I’m getting to that part. Patience,” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. “You must really want me inside you.”
“I want to not be the only one naked.”
“Say it,” he prodded in a weirdly casual tone.
“What?”
“Say you want me inside you.”
“This is ridiculous –”
He lifted his head from your jawline. “I can easily leave this room and order a pizza,” he teased, and you blinked at him. He was actually being serious. He would completely ignore what looked like a throbbing erection in his pants, just to make a point. You knew he wasn’t trying to be mean; he wanted to get you out of your comfort zone. This was so stupid, because you did want him inside you. Embarrassingly so. He had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life, but you still had this … aching need to be filled. Your cheeks heated just at the thought of it.
“I …” Your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to make your whole face turn bright red. With a sigh, your eyes connected again, and you answered, “I want you inside me, Wonwoo.”
He rewarded you with a kiss, pulling away before it could get too heated again, and stood from the bed. “Well, when you ask nicely …” He smiled, that dominating demeanor slipping for a moment as he pulled his shirt off. You’d never get tired of the way Wonwoo looked without a shirt. He didn’t let anyone see it very often – he wasn’t like his roommate – but the moments he did, you felt eternally grateful. His torso was toned, with defined abs and pecks that made your mind boggle. You liked that his arms were long and muscled; his hands large and slightly calloused.
You liked everything about him.
When he finally went to kick off his sweatpants, he noticed a large precum stain on the gray fabric from just eating you out. Which was probably the biggest jab to his calm and collected attitude right now, but he didn’t let it slip. He simply threw the sweatpants to the side, coming up close to the bed again, where your legs were now hanging off the edge. You gazed up at him as if he held the world in his palms, watching the way he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, never used to the size. He was slightly thicker than average, but long. Longer than you ever expected. With a pretty pink head leaking sticky precum.
It was killing you how long he was taking. Your legs shifted, ready to make a move to yank him underneath you, but he was faster than you. He pinned your wrists about your head with one hand this time, using his other to keep a firm grip on his cock. “You want to be in control that badly, huh?” He asked, tilting his head.
His hand was moving up and down his shaft now, letting precum dribble on your stomach. Your eyes flickered from his cock back to his eyes. “I just … I need you, Wonwoo,” you begged, your voice taking on a new tone. And somehow … wanting him so bad like this was ten times more arousing than riding him on the couch. “Please, please, Wonwoo. Please, fuck me.”
Your pleas had him falling apart, and he sighed, letting go of your wrists to discard his boxers too. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and aching and – fuck, had he always been veiny? He got on top of you again, cooing against your lips, “I know, baby, I know.” His rubbed the underside of his length against your wet folds, moaning at the slightest bit of friction. “I’ll fuck you real good. I promise.”
Pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, his breath hitched at just the feeling of your arousal coating his shaft. You both had never taken your time with sex. But he was doing that tonight now that he was in control, letting himself slowly push inside you, feel you completely stretch open for him. You mewled, slinking your arms around his neck and carding your fingers at the nape. And when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his lips fell open and he groaned. You felt so good he could cum right now, but he needed to get a grip. The last thing he needed was to cum too fast.
Not that you would like him any less if he did.
“Wonwoo,” you cried, your hips arching up to meet his. “Please.”
Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. He settled more on top of you, resting his elbows on both sides of your head, and pulled all the way out so only the tip remained. You whined at the emptiness, which soon changed to a gasp when he bullied his cock back in. Your fingers tugged at his hair; your legs crossed around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, still feeling how tight you were, how you molded yourself for him. “So fucking … god, so wet.”
His restraint could only last so long. He’d gotten his fill of feeling you adjust around him. He couldn’t take this anymore, or he was going to cum before you both had even started. With a deep breath, he set a brutal pace inside of you, his hips snapping forward. Tears rolled down your cheeks; how could something feel so good that you cried? Wonwoo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning, “God, so good … you feel so good … how can anyone feel this good?”
The only word you could choke out was, “Ditto,” which you’d regret for hours after this. But now was not the time.
He was fucking into you so hard that you were already sore, but you were holding onto him for dear life, clinging to him as that warmth burned in your gut. The way his cock curved and grazed your g-spot perfectly, making you tremble and whimper his name like a prayer. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling how deep his cock nestled inside you, and you noticed him shiver in your arms. He was trying desperately to fight off his release. That coil in your gut began to tighten, and from the way Wonwoo was breathing, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted you to cum first though – like always – wanted to feel you clamp around him, squeeze him so tight that he saw white.
So he did what he did best: reached in between your bodies, finding your swollen, sensitive clit so easily, and rubbed slow circles. He lifted his head from your neck, wanting to see that familiar look in your eyes when you saw stars. “Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice was so deep that it reverberated against your chest.
And finally, as he pressed his thumb down hard and pushed into you just right, you felt your orgasm crest. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you sobbed, body shaking as you came undone.
But Wonwoo wasn’t stopping. He kept fucking into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And when your walls squeezed him so tight, he buried himself completely and came hard, a generous amount of fucks leaving his lips. His cheek pressed against yours; his groans muffled by the comforter. You held him close as he filled you to the brink with his release, and it almost felt like hours before he realized he finished.
You exhaled together, allowing your heart rates to settle. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then to your nose, and now he was kissing all over your face. Your cheeks instantly tinged pink, but you let him do as he pleased. He didn’t even make a move off you, letting his cock soften inside your warmth. When your eyes opened, he was staring down at you like you were the sun. You searched his eyes, “What?”
His dark gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you really say, ‘Ditto,’ during sex?”
You and Wonwoo had gotten into a routine. Of course, you saw him 5 days out of the week at work, but you wanted more of him. You figured out Mingyu’s schedule, coming over most nights when he wasn’t home – besides Mingyu’s Movie Nights. You would let Wonwoo cook for you, and he promised he was getting better, before he led you to his room with kisses to your neck and a firm grip on your hand.
He always went with whatever you were comfortable with, but you found yourself letting him take the lead more often than not. You liked letting him prioritize you; you liked being selfish with him. Giving up control felt … much better than anticipated. Everything about this felt too good to be true. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t want to spoil it by asking him the dreaded, “What are we?” For now, you’d exist in your safe little bubble, where he would smile at you at work and then fuck your brains out after hours. It felt perfect, simple.
You approached sex through a different lens now. Instead of simply riding him on that godforsaken old couch, you let him go at his own pace: placing you on his lap, having his way with you and making you cum at least 3 times before he sunk you down on his cock, bouncing you up and down as you clung to him, practically letting him use you as a flesh light. Even when he let you sit on his face, it was on his terms: his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark, trying to suffocate himself with your pussy, not allowing you to cum until he said so, no matter how much you needed to. But it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want this to stop. You liked the lack of control, liked the way he took care of you. The way he bent your knees back as he slid into you, keeping eye contact, so you’d feel him that much deeper … the way he could feast on you for hours, never getting enough of your taste … there was something about it that made you feel more than beautiful.
Especially when he looked at you as if you were his world.
Especially when he fucked into you and you realized you might be in love with him.
You tended to get lost in thought while laying in bed on an early morning. The birds chirped outside, your phone chimed along with each new notification. Curling underneath your comforter, you held your pounding head, reminiscing on last Sunday. You had gone over Wonwoo’s apartment and he had surprised you with a spaghetti dinner. Mingyu promised that it was “more edible than usual” before he left you two alone in the apartment.
You had noticed the shine in Wonwoo’s eyes, how excited he was to do this for you. He had never bothered to learn anything for anyone, but all he wanted to do was please you. To make you happy. And you could see that in the way he gazed at you, making your stomach do flip flops. Letting him have all this control over you, letting him see past the fortress you’d kept up for who knows how long … it was scary and exhilarating all at the same time.
He taught you how to play his favorite video game after dinner, placing you in between his legs on the couch and letting you lean back against his broad chest. His arms cocooned around you, nestling your body in his embrace. Sometimes he would nibble on your ear as you fought to maintain hand-eye coordination with the controller. Eventually, you had given up and asked to watch him, but that led to his hand dropping the controller as the enemy killed him off. And then his fingers were slowly slipping down the waistband of your leggings, rubbing your slit over your panties. You had arched into him, your ass pressing against his hardening erection as he pulled your panties to the side, already finding you wet and ready for his touch. He chuckled in your ear, “How long have you been thinking about this?” His index finger rubbed tight circles on your clit, and all that you could formulate for a response was a moan as he –
You cut yourself off from the memory before it could end you.
Your stomach churned. Despite your better judgement, you had completely fallen head-over-heels for senior IT specialist, Jeon Wonwoo, and that was terrifying. He had seen your personality unfold, seen the most vulnerable parts of you. But nothing was more scary than admitting to yourself how much you liked him, maybe even loved. You were frantic to the point of exhaustion, so stressed that you felt sick. Soon you were shivering, your head pounding as a fever came on, and you stayed home from work for a few days. Your phone notifications be damned – you stayed in your bedroom with the blinds closed, sleeping the days away.
Every so often, you would hear your phone chime. Your phone screen would light up with another text message. But … you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. This behavior was illogical and stupid; you just simply couldn’t help yourself. You were an avoidant. The only thing you knew how to do was slowly push him away before he saw all the layers underneath your carefully crafted facade.
What if he finally saw how anxious you were all the time?
What if he knew how you secretly craved to be loved your entire life, but you looked for it elsewhere, in places like workplace praise or crowded bars where you couldn’t see another person’s face?
What if he knew you weren’t as organized up in your head as you were at your desk?
Or worse … what if he didn’t like you back?
TUESDAY, APRIL 22
Wonwoo: What’s going on?
Wonwoo: I managed to find out that you’re sick. I can make you soup, if you want? I know my cooking is terrible. But what if this time it’s good and it cures you?
Wonwoo: If I threaten to message you on Slack, will that make you reply?
Wonwoo: I promise I won’t. Unless … lol
Wonwoo: You’re not dead, right?
Wonwoo: Please, answer me.
FRIDAY, APRIL 25
UNKNOWN: hey, it’s Mingyu. I found your number in Wonwoo’s phone. he’s really messed up right now and worrying about you.
UNKNOWN: idk what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like seeing him like this.
UNKNOWN: just … call him. or text him. or something.
Jeon Wonwoo [10:13 AM]: Did your computer die and you need a new charger?
Jeon Wonwoo [3:21 PM]: I miss you.
When you finally returned to work, it’s on a day that your cubicle mate had decided to work from home. You couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or curse until the next day, when you wished that he decided to work from home forever. It was on a Tuesday morning that you finally faced him again, locking eyes with him from across the boardroom table in an all-hands meeting. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure what you could say, but … he didn’t speak to you any way. In fact, even when you both got back to your desks, he kept quiet, throwing on his headphones and focusing on whatever task was at hand. His attitude change wasn’t exactly surprising, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him either.
All your other coworkers looked bewildered. The silence between you two made just about everyone feel awkward. They all saw how close you and Wonwoo had become, and now everything just felt … flat. Silent. Empty. It was like you two were strangers. Maybe you had never really known each other in the first place, if you could both discard each other so easily.
But that just seemed too good to be true. You thought about him everyday, despite yourself, and he had to think of you too. You caught his eyes on you every once in a while, and you couldn’t help but yearn for him in silence. It was probably time for you to take charge again and make the first move, but you found yourself hesitating. Again. You were overwhelmed with thoughts of rejection.
This was why you never gave up control with someone before. It left you suddenly so, so doubtful.
You [1:34 PM]: I can’t get into my Outlook. I think I’ve locked myself out
Jeon Wonwoo is now offline.
You [1:36 PM]: I miss you too
It was a busy Sunday, the first notes of Spring evident in the air. You needed to go to the post office today, the supermarket, probably check in on your parents … but that was all discarded when you made the sudden decision to take a taxi to Wonwoo’s apartment. Your hands were shaking more than his when he first touched you. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety, and when the taxi finally pulled up to his building, you considered never getting out.
But you couldn’t continue being a coward. Besides, this driver had places to be, with the way he was arguing for you to pay in cash.
You were lucky enough to slide in through the building’s entrance while someone was walking out. The less you had to embarrass yourself by calling Mingyu to let you in, the better. The walk up those two flights of stairs was long and tiring, and it wasn’t because you always hated them. You physically couldn’t make yourself go faster, too frightened of what he was going to say when he saw you. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything; maybe he’d slam the door in your face. And you couldn’t blame him, because now you were at his door and – oh, god, you wanted to hurl.
The door was opening before you could even catch your breath. When you caught that first glimpse of Mingyu, you realized how much of a mistake this was. You could always turn back, run down the stairs before anyone could say a word.
But as soon as you both locked eyes, Mingyu raised his brow, but not in a mocking sense. It was as if … he expected you to be here. He sighed, leaning against the door, and without looking back, he called out, “Wonwoo! You got a visitor.”
Your eyes went wide, and then Mingyu was pushing past you, leaving the door open and muttering, “Good luck.” He was rushing down the stairs two at a time before you could even say a word back. But then you were seeing him, and you wondered if it had always been this hard to breathe around him.
Your fingers played absentmindedly as you both stared at each other. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he made no move to fix them. His own hand was too busy dropping the controller that had been in his grip, now clattering to the floor. His hair was messed up and he was wearing his favorite comfy sweatsuit, and you … you were put together, as always. Your hair unwashed, but pulled up in a ponytail, and wearing that cardigan he liked so much on you. If he wasn’t so hurt, just the sight of you would have him on his knees right now, begging to have you.
He had to turn around and walk away. If he didn’t right now, he’d just –
“Wait,” you said, walking in and closing the door when he spun away. “Please, don’t. I –”
“What could you possibly say?” He snapped, facing you once again. You had never heard his voice at this octave before, never seen so much distress on his face. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you wouldn’t cut me off out of nowhere. As if I’m just some guy you met at a bar last weekend.”
Your mouth opened, and then closed.
“Do you … do you even understand how worried I was about you?” He ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking for the first time in forever. You took a step closer to him. “You weren’t answering me and I just … my head went to the worst. I thought Mingyu was gonna kill me the next time I mentioned your name. And then, to see you at work and realizing that you were actually just ghosting me was a fucking punch to the gut. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it. But I’m so pissed at you for hurting my feelings that I’m not even sure if I wanna know.”
“Wonwoo –” You started.
“Please, don’t say my name like that,” he sighed and pinched his nose. “I realize that you came all this way to finally break the news to me, but I’m good. It’s very obvious to me now that you don’t like me as much as I like you, and to save us the pity party, let me get you home –” He reached for his wallet to grab some cash for your next taxi.
But you interrupted before he could finish.
“I love you.”
He paused, looking up and making sure he heard you right. “What?”
“I’m in love with you,” you said it again, and it felt so freeing to have this weight lifted off your shoulders. You moved closer, now standing a foot away, but refusing to touch him for your own good. “And I’m not just telling you that as an excuse. Ignoring you was cruel and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. I just … when I realized how deep my feelings for you were …” Your throat closed up, as if your body was acting on instinct, preventing you from being vulnerable with him.
Wonwoo closed the distance. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I’m right here with you.”
His voice was so reassuring – as always – opening you up like a blooming flower. And suddenly, your mouth didn’t feel so dry anymore and your nails stopped making crescent-shaped indents in your palm.
“I got scared,” you confessed, your gaze locked on his. “And I ran away, because that was the easiest thing to do. I thought ignoring you would be best for both of us, and I stubbornly didn’t want to hear your opinion on any of this. What I did was wrong and I … I hate myself when I do stuff like this to people I care about.”
Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but he wiped them with his thumb before they could fall. You sniffled, noticing the hurt in his eyes had faded, replaced only by adoration. Your lips pursed as you searched his gaze.
“I’ve just … never allowed anyone to open me up like this. I’ve never given my feelings to someone and let them care for me.” You blinked, your eyes rimmed red. “I’ve hardly been able to comprehend my own feelings because I’ve been scared shitless of them in the first place. But I can’t … I can’t justify pushing you away anymore. Because I love you. I don’t like being alone anymore and all I ever want to do is see you. Sometimes I’m afraid if I stop holding you, you’ll disappear. You do so much for me; you literally fix something on my computer everyday. I think if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and I –”
Wonwoo cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he kissed you like this: so gently with his palm cupping your jaw. You felt yourself relax when he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue licked into your mouth, sighing with relief when the familiar taste of you entered his orbit again. The taste of coffee and peppermint gum and the peanut butter and jelly you definitely had for lunch today. It was everything he loved about you, and he smiled into the kiss.
When he finally pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I interrupted your monologue.”
“It’s okay. Someone needed to before I got into the Hamlet soliloquy I prepared.”
He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, and just that had a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I forgive you,” he whispered, leaning back in to ghost his lips all over your face. Your warm breath fanned his mouth. “Just don’t do that again. I know I don’t show it very often, but I’m secretly very …” He smiled softer this time, pecking just slightly on the corner of your mouth. “Sensitive.”
Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting him all the more closer. “I know. I promise.” You brushed your nose over his. “If I ever ignore you for even a couple hours, you have full permission to annoy me on Slack.”
Wonwoo had to cover his mouth from letting out the loudest laugh possible, but it made you feel all the better to see him happy. You could spend forever seeing him this happy. You got up on your tiptoes just to stare at him more, to press yourself closer and feel his grin against your cheek.
But he was holding your face now, sighing down at you with a smile that almost made you swoon. “For the record,” he replied, “I love you too.”
there was something about you!!!! that now i can't remember it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender and i miss you on the train i miss you in the morning iiii never know what to think about (i think about you)
🔮 preview. Hell, you deserve this moment too, after singlehandedly taking on the reeducation of a patriarchically blinded film critic. These enraptured moments of passion are something you have worked toward together, and the promise of ecstasy is more than enough of a reward for both of you.
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, oral, pussy eating, blow jobs, fingering, overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, multiple positions, praise, body worship, grinding, heavy petting, choking, slight size kink, Cheol is broad and buff, big dick Cheol, reader orgasm with her panties on, breast play, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.5k
🍭 aus. Film critic!Seungcheol, actress!y/n, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. I've been dabbling in these kinds of media-based public figure rom-com style fics and I thought this one would be super fun :)
Prologue:
“You’re not going to like this,” Yumi, your agent, sighs, taking a seat next to you while your stylist works on your hair. “Mister Unimpressed wrote another article about you. It’s called ‘Looking back at Powers.’”
It’s always interesting when Choi Seungcheol - AKA. Mister Unimpressed - refers to you as ‘Powers,’ your chosen stage surname. He often twists the intention behind it, mocking your push for strong women in Hollywood. You release a deep breath. “Let’s hear it then.”
“Okay.” Yumi clears her throat. “In celebration of y/n Powers’ upcoming motion picture, I thought it fitting to do a rewatch of the Hollywood sweetheart’s entire discography. As is the case with any movie worth watching, there is a story to be told about Powers’ rise to fame and progression in her films. We start with her first-ever credit as an unnamed ‘girl next door’ in a would-be drama that turned out to be more of a romcom due to its lead’s unintentional and cringy comedic timing. Thus, Powers found herself as a romcom staple, and that’s what audiences are used to seeing from her. It’s quite the leap from girl next door to powerful femme fetal that Powers now portrays herself as in Tarantino’s new film ‘Death, Dawn, and the Rise of Cowboys.’”
Mister Unimpressed has a reputation as being a douche bag of a critic, but between his handsome face and his hardball questions when it comes to plot and character, somehow, he’s recently been promoted to an interviewer for a large publication. In fact, he’s set to interview you for your new film next week, so listening to this review gives you a good idea of what tone the interaction will have.
He might be an asshole, but he has a deep knowledge of film.
Despite his extensive history, you’d started in the industry before him, and he’s only actually reviewed the last four of your films, so it’s interesting to hear his qualms about your first movies and his critique, which borders on misogynistic, of your acting.
“It’s in Powers’ sixth film where we see her make a turning point toward actual drama, and at exactly halfway through the movie, in a slow-paced, heartfelt scene shared with veteran costar Kevin Costner, the audience gets to witness Powers’ very first realistic on-screen tear. Every other attempt at crying before this had felt surface-level, as if Powers was more focused on staying beautiful than truly embodying her character.”
You scoff as Yumi continues to read. Seungcheol is an absolute dick, a handsome one, but a dick nonetheless.
You’re dreading your upcoming interview with him, but it’s just something you’ll have to endure.
One:
You’d arrived at the studio ready to take on Mister Unimpressed, but as you sit down across from him, your anger skyrockets.
He’s so much more handsome in person. There’s a regal curve to his lips, and his smooth skin is further defined by sharp cheekbones and perfectly sculpted dark brows. His black hair is slightly longer than he usually wears it, and curled ever so slightly to accentuate the masculine aspects of his attractive face.
Mister Unimpressed is in a simple white button-up, but the suit jacket over it is a greenish beige that sets off the darker colouring of his hair and eyes. The gold chunky necklace around his pretty throat borders on being too eccentric, but for some reason, it just fits, and it matches the gold pinky ring that flashes at you as he adjusts the question card in his hand.
When he smiles, your heart skips a beat. It’s giving wolf in wolfish-sheep clothing, if there even is such a thing. He’s so beautiful, but you know his mind and tongue are both as sharp as a dagger, and he’s unafraid to use them.
“Ready? Action!”
“Good morning,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as the interview commences.
“Hello,” you say, forcing a smile as you adjust in your own seat, smoothing your black dress down against your thighs.
“So, ‘Death, Dawn, and the Rise of Cowboys,’ I’m sure many would call landing a role in a Tarantino film as the opportunity of a lifetime. How did you find the experience working on a movie of this magnitude?”
“It was wonderful,” you admit. “Obviously, for many actors, Tarantino is a bucket-list director. It was such a unique movie set, full of amazing actors and a team that really has movie-making down to an art form. I was very lucky to be part of this.”
“I’m sure many of our viewers at home recognize you from a handful of rom-coms. You started as a more background character, but you’ve worked yourself up to a lead, with heartthrob Jacob Elordi as your most recent on-screen love interest. Do you feel like this femme fatale, powerful cowgirl character in Tarantino’s film is a type of role you’re familiar with, or is she something new?
“Well, she’s definitely not the girl next door,” you joke, thinking back to what Seungcheol had said about you in his review.
He makes a face, cocking his head to the side, and you feel your anger bubble inside of you. “I mean, there are aspects of that naive girl next door attitude, if you took her off her porch, threw her on a horse, and convinced her to commit high-risk train robberies in the name of love for an older man, wouldn’t you say?”
You take a deep breath. “This film allowed me to work on deeper emotional conflict within my character than I’ve experienced in my recent romcoms,” you insist. “My character, Belinda, has those aspects of softness in her, sure, but she’s much more complicated than that, as most women are. She struggles with the historical context of femininity, and the idea that at that time, it was very much a man’s world.”
“Yet, she’s clearly afflicted with daddy issues and a need to please men, which some would say is a clearly male-centric view of the world.”
“Some may say that, yes, but being a powerful woman doesn’t need to mean you’re not interested in love. Being in love can be one of the most courageous things a woman ever does, and while I won’t get into the statistics on the reasons for that, I think many women would agree with me on that.”
Seungcheol smiles at you, and you get the sense that he’s trying to figure you out. “After a career of romcoms, which is what you’re known for, do you think the audience will appreciate the change into a more drama-centered role?”
“If Matthew McConaughey could do it, why not me?” you shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Do you think your filmography would stand against McConaughey’s earlier works?” Seungcheol cocks a brow.
You take a deep breath, ignoring Yumi in the periphery of your vision as she shakes her head at you, wordlessly begging you to back down.
“Mister Unimpressed,” you sigh, “you might be a renowned film critic, but I’m currently unimpressed with your inability to fully appreciate the feminist notes in my past three films. I think if you decided to review my films with a more female-centric lens, and truly did your homework on what it means to be a woman in different historical contexts, you might be able to take off your big boy misogyny glasses for a minute and appreciate that women can be complex while still engaging in themes like love and longing. Coming of age in a world where men think they have a right to judge absolutely everything women do can lead to a character like Belinda, who is a feared outlaw in her own right, but doesn’t restrict her heart the way men might expect her to. ‘Death, Dawn, and the Rise of Cowboys,’ is a drama, not a rom-com, but it’s a fully fledged commentary on all sorts of human experiences, and my character Belinda isn’t defined by her attraction to older men, it’s simply one of the many parts of her complex characterisation which made her such a challenging, and rewarding character to portray.”
Seungcheol lets out a whistle. “Well, that was a mouthful.”
“So was your last article,” you fire back. “I get the sense you just don’t like romcoms, or romance in any form. You certainly don’t see the need for it in drama or action films.”
“I’ll admit, romance is my least favourite genre.”
“So you’re not an Adam Sandler fan? He got his start with movies like The Wedding Singer, Fifty First Dates, Mister Deeds- you must not like his castmate Drew Barrymore, or other romcom stars like Hugh Grant, or Emma Stone?”
A chuckle escapes Seungcheol. “I guess if I had to compare you to one of those actors, it would be Sandler.”
“Which I’ll take as a compliment.”
“He’s quite one-note,” Seungcheol says.
“Seems you never got a chance to see Spaceman,” you seethe, crossing your arms over your chest. “Do you have anything else to ask me?”
“Well, since you think I’m such a misogynist pig, might as well ask one final question.” An annoyingly beautiful grin makes its way across his pretty lips. “How much did that dress cost, princess? It fits like a glove.”
“More than you’re suit,” you fire back, standing. “You can trust me on that.”
Two:
The premiere had gone off without a hitch, and your interview with Mister Unimpressed has gone viral, stemming all sorts of discussion about women in the industry and the rise of ‘red pill masculine’ thinking. Comment sections are full of backlash and praise for both sides of the conversation, and it’s drawn even more press to the movie. It’s as they always say, no press is bad press, and you’re just thankful your outburst didn’t get you canceled.
It seems many agree with you on the concept of strong female characters still having romantic feelings. There have been a handful of very well-regarded female critics who have written soaring reviews praising you for your work, and a number of costars you’ve worked with in the past have reached out to congratulate you on ripping a new one out of the world’s most controversial critic turned interviewer.
Even so, the world seems to be holding its breath waiting for Mister Unimpressed’s final review of ‘Death, Dawn, and the Rise of Cowboys.’
He’s usually very on point with his reviews, posting them faster than most critics, so this lag in putting his opinions out to the world is very uncharacteristic and is only adding to the contention surrounding your now infamous interview.
“Still no review,” Yumi sighs as you both settle for your nighttime routine in your hotel room. “This whole situation is a nightmare.”
“I think it will be okay,” you tell her, wiping your makeup off with a cleansing pad.
Yumi laughs. “I’m glad you’re optimistic.”
“I pointed out major concerns in Seungcheol’s ability to give an impartial review; maybe he’s just rethinking his way of doing things.”
“I’m not sure one call out from a woman could change a man like that.”
“Maybe not, but the backlash might. Many of his female fans are taking my side. I don’t think Seungcheol ever intended to have a primarily red pill male fanbase. He can say what he wants about women, but that man is clearly too vain to give up female attention and praise. He’ll have to think very carefully about how he goes about this.”
Three:
It’s been twenty-four hours since the prescreening release of your new movie, and there’s still no review from Seungcheol. You’re trying to remain calm, but even you are getting worried now. You’re about to start your nighttime routine when you get a text from Yumi, and it stops you in your tracks.
Yumi: Seungcheol wants to talk to you
After a pause to think it through, you call your agent. “What do you mean he wants to talk to me?”
“I don’t know, he reached out, said he wanted to clarify a few things with you before he can post his review.” Yumi sighs. “I’ll send you his number.”
“Is this a good idea?”
“At this point, I honestly don’t know.”
“Yumi-”
“You have a good grasp on this. I know I’m your agent, and I help with PR, but speaking your mind created waves in the system, and after seeing more and more articles about feminism and the rise of powerful women in film- I don’t necessarily think this has been a bad thing. People like you because you’re raw, and you speak your mind.”
“So I should call him?” you clarify.
“I think so.”
You discuss it for a few more minutes, and then you hang up, staring at Seungcheol’s number as tingles of anxiety waft through you.
Taking a deep breath, you give Mister Unimpressed a call.
“Hi, It’s me, uh, y/n,” you say when he answers.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” For some reason, he actually sounds happy, and it throws you off.
“Well, I’m here to talk.”
“I was hoping we could do it in person.”
“It’s almost midnight,” you point out.
“I know a place,” Seungcheol insists.
You release a deep sigh. “And I suppose you need to talk tonight?”
“I want to post my review, but I really want to run it by you first.”
“As professional courtesy, before you bash me again?” you scoff.
He lets out a deep chuckle. “I can understand why that might be the impression you have, but I promise it’s not what you think.”
“Fine. Send me the location.”
Four:
You hadn’t bothered to get dolled up for this weird impromptu meeting with Seungcheol, and you feel a little out of place when you meet him in a hotel bar. Sure, it’s after midnight, the kitchen is closed, so there aren’t any people, but it’s still a 5-star establishment, and despite the late hour, Seungcheol is as handsome as ever in a red suit.
You wonder if the colour is significant, if he’s about to be a little demon to you again, and you sigh as you take a seat across from him.
He looks you up and down, taking in your beige cardigan and messy hair, your yoga pants and lack of makeup, and you wonder if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.
He simply clears his throat. “Quite the turnout for your prescreening,” he notes. “I feel I should buy you a celebratory drink or something.”
“You don’t have to buy me anything,” you insist. “What’s this about?”
Seungcheol swallows thickly. “Guess we’ll get right to it.”
“No need to force niceties now.”
Mister Unimpressed lets out a chuckle, toying with the crystal glass of what looks like whiskey in front of him. “No one has ever spoken to me the way you did in our interview.”
You stay quiet, wondering if he’s going to continue. When he doesn’t, it’s clear he expects a response of some kind, so you take a breath. “Is this about the review you’ve yet to post? Some sort of weird blackmail where I have to kiss your ass to get you to write favourably?”
Another grin, and you hate how the smile lights up his face. “You really don’t think very highly of me, do you?”
“You haven’t given me a reason to.”
“This isn’t blackmail,” Seungcheol assures you with a sigh. “I want to hear your perspective on your character.”
“Are you going to take me seriously this time?”
“I just…” Seungcheol relaxes back against the booth, and you’re aware of how broad his shoulders are as he takes a deep breath. “I gave what you said some thought. And I suppose you’re right that I have a very male-centric way of seeing things. I wanted to hear more about your experience as a woman and how that has influenced how you choose to portray characters that you view as powerful, even if the men watching the film might be oblivious to the complicated internal struggles you’re trying to convey.”
“I’ll discuss this with you, but I hope you know, there’s something to be said about the fact that you’re taking my time to explain this to you instead of doing your own research,” you point out. “It’s as if the onus and responsibility are always on the women to explain things instead of you, as the man, going and looking into the countless essays written by women about this exact issue.”
Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. “I guess I can understand that.”
You take a deep breath. “Let’s talk the whole daddy issue angle. I’m assuming you think it makes the character weak?”
Mister Unimpressed lets out a chuckle. “That might be one way of viewing it.”
“Gendered trauma is an issue in our society,” you explain. “Living in a patriarchal world, often, women feel the need from a very young age to perform for their fathers. They watch brothers get love for being masculine, and some women feel they have to be less girly in order to get that same attention. My character in the film, Belinda, struggled with that. She comes from a family of men, strong men, and when you worship something, imitation is often an outcome. Despite all her hard work, Belinda is still a woman, and she craves the validation that men seem to receive inherently. Think about the Barbie movie, and the iconic American Ferrera woman speech.”
“You won’t hate me if I have to look it up, will you?”
You sigh, waving your hand to give Seungcheol the space to look up exactly what you’re quoting.
From there, you begin to chat about all sorts of female empowerment. About women directors, and women-centered casts, the Bechdell test, why you chose to work with Tarantino despite his sexualization of women and feet-
Before you know it, it’s two am, and one of the waitresses shyly approaches your table. “Hey guys, I just wanted to let you know, the bar is closing up, so final call.”
“I’m alright,” you smile, taking a breather from your heated conversation with Seungcheol.
“One more Manhattan, please,” Seungcheol nods to the server, pushing his empty glass to the side of the table.
The waitress scurries away, and when she comes back, she pauses as she sets Seungcheol’s drink down. “I also just wanted to let you know, Miss Powers, I idolize you.”
Your heart leaps in your chest. “Thank you.”
“And as for you, Mister Unimpressed, I’m unimpressed by you!” She says it in a teasing tone, like they’ve been doing on TikTok where thousands have been making a meme out of your interview with Seungcheol.
He stares at her, gobsmacked, and the server flashes you another shy smile then scurries away.
“Do women really feel that way about me?” Seungcheol asks.
“Well, you’re single, right?” you laugh. “Maybe it’s the stick up your ass and the misogyny glasses you’re so fond of wearing.”
“I’m not a misogynist,” he sighs.
“Sure you’re not,” you tease. “And your shit doesn’t stink, and your opinions are always a hundred percent and undeniable-”
He gives you a hard look. “It’s getting late,” he admits. “Can I get you a taxi to go back to your hotel?”
“I’ll call one for myself,” you insist, pulling out your phone.
“You play characters with daddy issues, but you refuse to let me buy you a drink or get you a cab,” Seungcheol laughs. “Explain that to me.”
“Well, there’s this thing called acting, it’s where I pretend to be someone else-”
Seungcheol rolls his eyes with a scoff. “I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re a lot different than what I expected you to be.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have such prejudice against people you’ve never met based on who they play on the big screen.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he nods. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Five:
“Okay, so it’s a long review,” Yumi tells you with excitement as you get in the car to head to an appointment. “I’ll give you the big takeaways and send you the link to read when you have time.”
“Lay it on me,” you laugh.
“Basically, Seungcheol explained that after speaking with you, he’d tried to do his due diligence by discussing his past reviews of women-centric movies and themes like love with the women in his life. He said a number of them explained that your view was spot on, that you play complicated women with nuance that few men understand even when pointed out to them.”
“Not the women in his family taking my side of things,” you scoff.
“There’s more!” Yumi says, practically shaking with excitement. “He wrote in length about how the two of you met to speak further on the subject off camera. He said, and I quote, ‘Although in the past, I have portrayed myself as Mister Unimpressed, when Miss Powers showed up to an impromptu meeting without any of the glitz or glam, it impressed me greatly. Here is a woman, a multifaceted woman, willing to put in the work to educate a man such as myself, a man who hasn’t always been the most kind in his reviews of her work. Miss Powers pointed out I could have done the research on my own, and in hindsight, she’s correct, but she walked me through her opinions on the deeper conflicts that women face, and she opened my eyes with a level of grace and easy going humour that I will not soon forget.’”
“Wow, I for sure thought he was going to mention my chipped nails or something,” you joke.
“He noted that the interview you did has turned into something of a meme, and his attempts to educate himself aren’t to garner any sympathy. Seungcheol noted that he’s excited to see where your career takes you, as this first attempt to break away into a more drama centred film genre was spectacular. Then he says, quote, ‘Not only is she a Sandler, a Stone, a Barrymore, and a Grant, Powers is without a doubt, the next McConaughey, and we will all be blessed to see her on our screens for years to come.’”
“He said that?” you ask in shock.
“Verbatim,” Yumi grins.
“Holy shit.” You sit back against the seat of the car, letting out a deep breath.
“I don’t know what you said during your off the clock interview with Seungcheol, but whatever it was, you knocked it out of the park.”
“He probably just wants his female fan base back,” you note, but something in your heart tells you there’s legitimate hope that you’ve helped Seungcheol turn over a new leaf. The feminist inside of you says it’s not your job to have done this for him, but the idealist part of you says it had to be done sooner than later, and unfortunately, when it comes to misogyny and the male centric view of film and media, women have to be more outspoken than ever to make a change like this one.
Six:
Life has gone on, and in the months since your interaction with Seungcheol, you’ve seen the continued shift in how he reviews things. It’s a good sign that he’s actively trying to be better.
You’re in LA for a red carpet event, waiting for your friend to finish up an interview for her recent movie, and that’s when you notice Seungcheol. It looks like he’s completed an interaction with another movie star, and he catches your eye.
Damn, he looks good. It’s a Black Tie event, and he’s taken it to the extreme, black button up and everything under his dark suit. But it doesn’t look tacky, and there’s a textured element to his monochrome outfit that draws the eye.
You feel drawn to him, and you have the time to approach, so you do.
“Hey,” you smile.
“Hey, yourself,” he grins back.
So much has changed about his countenance, it’s almost as if he’s shy to talk to you. This regal, hard hitting man looks cute even.
“You know, with your character development as of late, for a guy who doesn’t like romcoms, you’re setting yourself up to be in one,” you tease.
“As long as it’s a romcom and not a drama.”
“Says the guy who has always preferred dramas,” you point out, cocking a brow.
“I like drama, but I don’t want drama with you. No enemies to lovers bullshit, at least… I hope we were never enemies.” It’s a shockingly candid statement from the man you’d once considered to be a heartless misogynist, and it definitely takes you aback.
“Not enemies,” you say. “I just thought you were a bit of a dick.”
Seungcheol laughs and holds up his hands. “Guilty.”
“Who knew it would take one romcom actress reaming you out to promote so much growth,” you laugh.
“You’re not just a romcom actress and we both know it,” Seungcheol says softly. You watch him look you up and down, and you can see the gentle shift in his expression, the softening of his eyes and the relaxing of his shoulders. “This might seem out of the left field, but how would you feel about getting drinks sometime?”
“Like another educational interview?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a date.”
You let out a laugh of shock, gaping at him. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
Shaking your head, you look him up and down. You’ve always been attracted to Seungcheol, despite his rather irritating pigheaded personality, but it does look like he’s turned a new leaf. Who would you be if you painted him with one brush and never allowed him to change his colours for a reappraisal?
“I’ll go out with you,” you tell him finally.
A beautiful grin spreads across Seungcheol’s lips. “I’ll text you.”
Seven:
You pride yourself on being a powerful woman who doesn’t need a man, but for the date, you allow Seungcheol to play the role of provider.
He picks you up in his Porsche, holds the doors open for you, and takes you to a drinks and tapas place that he’d reserved a secluded seat at.
With no prior discussion on what you’d be wearing other than Seungcheol telling you to wear a nice dress, somehow, you’d both decided on soft green as a colour, so it looks like you’re matching as you take your seats and order some appetizers and drinks.
“As a thank you for my feminist education, you’re letting me pay tonight, deal?” Seungcheol grins. “Get anything you want.”
“Part of me wants to argue-”
“But you won’t, because I’m insisting.”
“Very mans man of you,” you giggle.
Seungcehol shrugs. “Feminism can say what it wants about equality and splitting cheques, but I was still raised with chivalry in mind, and I can’t think of a more deserving woman to take care of, even if it’s just for tonight.”
“You really have turned over a new leaf, haven’t you, Seungcheol?”
“I’ve done my best,” he admits. “Been having movie nights with one of my cousins in town, she’s a huge fan of yours and insisted she teach me about feminism and historical context and stuff.”
“Did you finally watch the Barbie movie?”
“I did,” Seungcheol laughs.
“And?” you grin. “What did you think?”
“I thought it was really good. It kind of gave perspective on living in a patriarchal world in reality versus the matriarchal women-empowered world of Barbie. It made me rethink how important representation of all kinds is in media.”
“Did you go to school for film studies, or English, or journalism, or anything? They didn’t have a women's studies course when you were in university?” you question, toying with the stem of your sangria glass.
“Being a film critic wasn’t exactly what I went to school for,” Seungcheol says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“No?”
“Originally, I was supposed to be in business. But, I’ve always loved movies. I ended up doing a movie critic column in my university newspaper once a week, and I fell in love with it.”
“Let me guess, you started with movies like ‘The Wolf of Wallstreet,’ and ‘The Big Short’?” you tease.
Seungcheol smiles and shakes his head. “You know me too well.”
“I think you’re just a little predictable,” you shrug.
“I didn’t know being a movie star meant you minored in psychology.”
“There’s an aspect of psychology in all storytelling,” you point out. “You have to understand that everyone is layered and complex, and if characters in film are done correctly, they are too.”
“What about you? What did you go to school for?” Seungcheol asks.
“English.”
“I should have guessed that,” he grins. “But let me guess this, your favourite was the romantics?”
“And I had a seminar on film adaptations of novels,” you nod. “That kind of kick-started my obsession with taking words off paper and putting them into reality.”
The two of you continue to talk, and when you come to a discussion about your top three favourite movies, with Seungcheol noting ‘The Godfather,’ ‘Twelve Angry Men’ and ‘Jaws,’ everything about him makes sense.
“None of those movies have anything to do with women!” you bellow. “They’re all major failures to the Bechdel test!”
“Jaws technically passes the Bechdel test because there’s one scene where two women talk about living in the town and not about men.”
“Wow, it barely passed what should be an easy test, congratulations!” you laugh, shaking your head at Seungcheol.
“And I suppose your top three movies are all romances?” Seungcheol teases, cocking a brow.
“Don’t even try me. Everything Everywhere All At Once, a movie about the turbulent relationship between a mother and daughter, it includes multiverse and one of the most shockingly cinematic and touching scenes ever when both characters are literal rocks with googly eyes, sorting through their trauma and tumultuous relationship-”
“It won a ton of oscars,” Seungcheol nods. “Good movie.”
“If you had told me you hadn’t seen it, I would have taken you home right now and made you watch it.”
“I’m sure you could take me home and force me to watch other movies I haven’t seen that you think are important.”
He smirks at you like it’s a challenge, and your heart races in your chest.
“Fuck it, pay the bill, and let’s go watch movies.”
Seungcheol laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”
Eight:
You’re not sure how this happened, but you and Seungcheol are in your livingroom, watching movie after movie with strong female leads. You’d found an oversized pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for him to wear, and you’re in a matching set, both of you looking like lazy bums over separate bowls of microwave popcorn as you critique and discuss movie after movie.
This has felt more like a night with a best friend than a date, and you kind of enjoy that. Seungcheol had given off a playboy vibe when you’d first met him, but you now realize that without the suit and the chunky gold jewelry, without the Porsche and perfectly styled hair, he’s so much more than that.
He hasn’t flirted with you at all, or tried to inch closer to you on the couch, he’s been completely respectable, and it’s starting to drive you wild.
It’s nearly two am when you finish watching both Kill Bill movies, and you’ve explained that while Tarantino has a few weird sexualization of women tendencies, he still has created some of the most bad ass women in film. You find yourself yawning, and Seungcheol turns to look at you.
“Getting sleepy?” he grins.
“A little,” you sigh. “Come cuddle.”
He raises his brows at you.
“This is a date, isn’t it?” you whine. “You haven’t been doing any date like things since we got here.”
“I’ve been trying to be respectable.”
“Doing a good job of it, too good,” you joke, closing the distance yourself as you wriggle closer to Seungcheol. He lifts his arm allowing you to tuck into his side and get comfortable.
“To be completely honest, with how much bickering we’ve been doing, part of me wasn’t sure you even liked me that way,” he admits.
“Why would I have agreed to a date if I didn’t like you?”
“Women are complex, I’m sure there are lots of reasons,” he teases.
You find yourself laughing, shaking your head and releasing a sigh.
“See, you just went through like five emotions in the span of two seconds.”
“Count the emotions then,” you insist.
“You laughed because it’s comedic that I’ve reached the point of admitting that women are very complex, you shook your head because men always say women are too complicated to understand, you sighed because I annoyed you, but you smiled after because you’re endeared by how cute I am when I annoy you-”
“And number five? That was only four explanations.”
“And… you cuddled closer to me because despite the conflicting emotions, you’re into me, and you’re frustrated by me being a gentleman when you probably want me to be more dominant even though that contradicts some of your more feminist ideals.”
“A man can be dominant and still respectful,” you point out. “In fact, men who are dominant should be the most respectful since a woman is bestowing her trust on them.”
“Guess that’s true.” Seungcheol shifts. “Here, let's try this.” He gently touches the bottom of your chin, and you adjust to look up at him. “May I kiss you?”
A shiver of excitement runs through you, and a broad grin breaks out on your face. “Yes, please.”
Seungcheol returns your smile, and he slowly dips his head down to press his lips to yours for the first time.
He’s so gentle, and it leaves you wanting more. You grab the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and he matches your energy. Shifting while kissing him desperately, you move to straddle him, and his hands find your hips, steadying you as you make out, taking each others breath away.
You thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, gently tugging on it and making him groan, his fingers digging into your hips.
You want him so badly it almost hurts, but you force yourself to pull away, gasping and trying to catch your breath as you look down at him.
He looks as dazed as you feel, staring up at you with pink flushed cheeks.
“It’s getting late,” you tell him, knowing that if this continues, you’ll be tearing each other’s clothes off.
Seungcheol swallows thickly. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your beauty sleep, princess.”
The petname causes butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach, and you stifle a moan, your core throbbing already.
“When can I see you again?” he asks.
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Right, you’re a busy woman,” he nods, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, his gold pinky ring glinting.
“We’ll work something out,” you insist.
“I don’t doubt it.”
With one more breath to get control of yourself, you get off of Seungcheol. “I’m sorry to cut this short, it’s not that I didn’t like the kiss-”
“I think we both liked it a little too much,” Seungcheol jokes, adjusting his sweatpants.
You try not to look, but you can’t help but peek at the boner pushing up against the dark fabric.
“I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect that,” he assures you, reaching for the cup of water on the side table next to him. “Give me a second.”
“Okay.” Your skin flushes with heat, and you head to the open concept kitchen, filling your own tumbler with ice water to cool yourself down.
A few minutes later, you’re escorting Seungcheol to your door.
You can’t help but steal another kiss, and he hungrily presses his lips to yours, his hands teasing just above your ass as if he wants to grope you but knows he should be chivalrous. You can see the clash of wants versus his need for control of himself, and it makes you even hornier as you break the heated kiss for a second time.
“I’ll text you,” you insist, taking a deep breath.
“Goodnight, princess.”
“Goodnight, Cheol.”
Nine:
It’s been two weeks since your first date with Seungcheol and your schedules haven’t aligned, but you’ve been texting every day, and getting to know each other. You’ve given him ‘homework’ to watch certain movies and he’s been updating his reviews of older movies, adding to his repertoire.
Tonight is the night you finally get to see him again, and you don’t bother with any of the going out for a date bullshit, you both know you want to watch movies and cuddle, amongst other things… and Seungcheol arrives to the date in the sweatpant outfit you’d given him last time.
You both laugh at the way you’re dressed, and you pull him in for a kiss.
His hands are very grabby, in the best possible way, but he still avoids your ass, choosing to instead grip your hips, his lips hot and heavy against your own.
You make out all the way to the couch, and Seungcheol lets out a sigh. “So what are we watching?”
“I was thinking horror movies or something.”
“Horror? You want to cuddle with me all night, huh?”
You laugh. “Not every movie we watch has to be some great female lead film with a commentary on sexism and the deeply ingrained patriarchal expectations of our current and historical society. Sometimes, we can just watch a house filled with ghosts and demons.”
“So the Conjuring.”
You stare at him. “How did you know?”
“It’s one of the better horror movies about ghosts and demons.”
Seungcheol sits down, and you immediately take your seat right next to him, cuddling close to his side while his arm wraps around you casually.
“Before we start, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you tell him.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I mean, lets be real, we’re probably having sex tonight-”
“We are?”
“Don’t act all shocked,” you laugh, pushing at his chest.
“I just wanted to know if-” You trail off, biting your lip.
“If I’m seeing anyone else.”
“STI’s are a real thing.”
“So are condoms,” he laughs, “and I brought some just in case.”
“Oh.”
“But to answer your question, no, I’m not seeing anyone else.”
Your heart leaps into your throat. “You’re not?”
“Why would I be?” He shrugs.
“I don’t know, clearly my job has me on a very rough schedule most of the time. Long distance isn’t exactly everyone’s favourite idea in the world when they’re considering a relationship with someone- I mean, if that is something you’re considering.”
Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “We can make it work. There isn’t really anyone else I’d want to make it work with.”
“Really?”
“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because as much as you infuriate me sometimes, I feel the most mentally stimulated with you. No one else challenges me in the way you do, and no one else pushes me to question the ways in which I think about things.”
“Funny, I could say the exact same about you.”
You grin up at him, cupping his cheek to draw his lips to your own.
It’s a softer kiss now, a kiss of understanding, of mutual respect and clear intention of direction for your future.
Soon, you’re starting the movie, and Seungcheol shifts to be your big spoon as The Conjuring begins to play.
He’s not nearly as hesitant and respectful as last time, and you don’t want him to be.
Pretty quickly into the movie, he begins to kiss your throat. You release a sigh, tilting your head to give him better access as he searches for your sweet spot.
At the same time, his hand slips under your hoodie, teasing over your bare hip.
You can’t help but react, pushing your ass back against his crotch, loving the sensation of his fingers on your skin.
His cock is already pressing up to meet you, and your core throbs at the knowledge. You can’t help yourself, flipping onto your back so you can press your lips to his as Seungcheol continues to spoon your side. His fingers tease your panty line, and you whimper into the kiss, muscles tensing with anticipation.
“Please,” you whisper, part of you knowing he won’t cross the line without permission first.
Seungcheol’s hand slips below your waistband, but over your panties, teasing your clit through the flimsy material.
You moan desperately, mouth hot against his own as he begins to work you up.
“So wet already,” Seungcheol groans.
“Been needing you,” you admit.
“Been needing you too,” he grins.
You wiggle your hips, feeling desperate and annoyed with your panties still being in the way of direct contact, but you know what will urge him to go faster.
You lift your hoodie and sportsbra, exposing your breasts to Seungcheol, who breaks your kiss to look down at them.
He’s breathing heavily, watching you toy with your nipples, wiggling your hips to grind your pussy against his hand.
“You look so perfect like this,” he muses.
“I’d look better with your mouth on my nipple,” you counter.
Seungcheol releases a chuckle, and then he adjusts, shifting so he can tease his tongue along your breast while his fingers rub harder on your clit through your panties.
The first flick of his wet muscle against your sensitive bud as you groan, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. When he takes your nipple into his mouth to suck on it, your entire body lights up with hot energy.
Your panties are soaked through now and you know it, but despite the annoyance of it, there’s something delicious about being teased this way.
If this feels like ecstasy already, you can’t even imagine what his cock is going to feel like.
You can’t help yourself, you shift a little, awkwardly cupping your hand over his bulge and rubbing gently.
Seungcheol moans against your breast and the sound goes straight to your core, which throbs desperately, making you cry out too.
Your free hand threads through his beautiful dark curls, keeping his mouth on your chest as you wiggle your hips harder against his hand, chasing the high that you know isn’t far off.
Seungcheol’s teeth drag teasingly against your nipple and you cry out, eyes clenching shut.
“I’m close, fuck, I’m close already and you haven’t even actually touched me,” you gasp.
You can feel him grin, and you moan louder, focusing on the pleasure building inside of you. He rubs your clit even harder and you begin to pant, your heart thundering in your rib cage like a million tiny birds aching to burst free.
One more nibble at your nipple has you orgasming hard, your pussy clenching around nothing as ecstasy floods through you. The sound you release is the most pornographic noise that’s ever come from your lips, and Seungcheol rubs you through your high, even as your thighs close around his hand.
Overstimulation has never felt this good, and it overtakes you completely, in the best possible way.
You’re not sure how long you orgasm for, but when your muscles finally unclench, you slump back, trying to catch your breath, body still twitching with after shocks.
Seungcheol pulls away from your chest, looking up at you with a grin.
“That good, huh?”
You can’t even speak yet, mind still numb, but you manage a nod.
“I’m going to eat you out now, you know, for feminism,” Seungcheol jokes, and your core throbs at the notion.
He pulls his hand from your sweatpants, sitting up and carefully manuevering around you so he can get down onto the floor in front of the couch. Then he gently adjusts you too, tugging at your pants and pulling them down your legs.
“Your panties are ruined,” he notes. “I kind of want to keep them as a souvenir.”
All you can do is giggle, lifting your hips to allow him to remove the flimsy fabric. Then you take off your hoodie and your bra, leaving you completely naked for Seungcheol as you adjust on the couch, sinking down and spreading your thighs for him.
Seungcheol swallows thickly, gaze shifting up to you. “You’re perfect,” he tells you, bringing his lips to your inner thigh so his breath teases over your most sensitive spots. “Every, single, inch.”
Each press of his mouth to your skin feels like heaven, and you relax further against the couch, enjoying the way he adjusts your thighs over his shoulders.
“Are you a fan of overstimulation?” he asks.
“I think I can be, but no one has ever really tried.”
“If it’s too much, just tell me to stop,” Seungcheol says softly.
“Okay,” you whimper, heart racing with expectation.
Seungcheol starts by rubbing your slit with his thumb, gently testing your clit to see how sensitive you are.
You jolt from the brief contact, and he looks up at you with a grin.
“I’ll be nice,” he promises, slipping two fingers into your drenched core.
You mewl from the sensation of him stroking your inner walls, and he works you open slowly, testing the waters and carefully watching your reactions. His mouth moves to your inner thigh again, teasing you but still giving your clit time to recuperate.
Closing your eyes, you give yourself to Seungcheol and the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you.
He continues to finger fuck you, but then he brings his second hand up, gently toying with your clit with his thumb.
Your core clenches tightly around his digits, and you let out a deep groan.
“I think you’re almost ready for my mouth,” he muses, pressing another sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.
“I want to feel it,” you whimper, loving the attention he’s showering you in.
Seungcheol lets out a chuckle, and then he adjusts. You feel his breath as he moves closer, his thumb dropping away from your clit to make room for his wet tongue, which gently begins to circle your ultra sensitive nub.
Your thighs shake from the feeling of it, and a deep moan escapes you, your skin tingling with pleasure.
Seungcheol shifts his hand a little, pushing his fingers up toward your g-spot while he applies more and more pressure on your clit with his tongue. Then he begins to suck the bud into his mouth, making lewd sounds as he works you toward yet another orgasm.
“Fuck,” you groan, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth on your clit while you roll your hips, eager for even more stimulus.
He keeps applying pressure to your g-spot, and the sounds escaping you are pornographic as he works you closer and closer to the edge.
“Keep going,” you whimper. “Please, don’t stop!”
You’re gasping now, muscles clenching, heart racing in your chest. Seungcheol’s fingers work even faster inside of you, and you shut your eyes, giving in to the rising pleasure as it comes to a boiling point-
“I’m cumming!” you gasp, pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s digits as waves of ecstasy slam into you. Your orgasm takes your breath away, and you writhe against the couch as Seungcheol works you through it, his mouth and fingers unrelenting on your core as the pleasure all but engulfs you.
Your thighs are shaking over his shoulders, muscles clenching and unclenching repeatedly with the power of your high.
But Seungcheol seems to know your limit already, and on the cusp of the ecstasy being too much to handle, he takes his mouth off your clit. His fingers slow inside of your core, gently stroking you and helping you slowly come down from one of the most intense orgasms of your life.
His lips find your inner thigh, and he’s patient as you catch your breath, slouched against the couch with post orgasmic exhaustion.
Seungcheol pulls his fingers out of your wet core, and you listen to him lick them clean, letting out a groan of appreciation for the taste of you.
“Fuck me now?” you ask softly, opening your eyes to gaze down at the beautiful film critic.
He lets out a laugh. “Not here, not on a couch.”
“Bedroom,” you insist.
Seungcheol stands up, looking down at your body. “Bedroom works.” Then he leans down, gently collecting you into his arms and lifting you bridal style. Your heart flip flops in your chest as he carries you through your home to your bedroom. You’re turned on by his strength, there’s no doubt about that, but you’re also turned on by the care in which he treats you. Who would have thought that notorious asshole Mister Unimpressed could have a soft side?
He sets you onto the bed, and you stretch, releasing a moan at the feeling of your muscles as they begin to relax.
“Take your clothes off,” you instruct.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Yeah?”
“Uh huh.” You nod lazily.
He shakes his head at your attempt to be dominant with him, but he pulls off his hoodie all the same.
You lick your lips at the sight of his bare torso. He’s always been broad, even when his shoulders are hidden by suit jackets and hoodies, the width of this man is still obvious. But seeing him exposed like this takes your breath away. Your imagination had gone wild with thoughts of what he would look like in a moment like this, but your musings pale in comparison to the real thing.
He’s well muscled for a movie critic- for any man, and it’s clear he spends time at the gym sculpting this Grecian statue-esque body of his.
Then his hands move to the drawstrings of his sweatpants, and he toys with them for a moment, grinning up at you.
“You sure you want this?” he teases.
With a groan of frustration, you sit up, getting onto your hands and knees so you can crawl to the edge of the bed in front of him. You reach out and hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats and briefs, and with one quick movement, you tear them down, exposing his thick cock for the very first time.
You can’t help the way you start to drool, and you immediately grab the base of his length, moving your mouth to the tip so you can begin to suck on him.
“Shit,” Seungcheol cusses. Clearly he wasn’t expecting you to give him head, and his hand flies to your shoulder, but he doesn’t push you away.
You sink your mouth farther onto his cock, swirling your tongue and suctioning around him, wanting to give him the pleasure he’s just given you two times over.
“You’re good at this,” he tells you. “I’m impressed.”
You can’t help but giggle a little, pulling off of his cock and stroking it as you look up at him. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”
Seungcheol grins. “You deserve praise.”
“I do,” you agree, bringing your mouth back to his length and sinking as far onto his thick cock as you can. He groans when his tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag slightly around him, closing your eyes and focusing on breathing through your nose to counteract the instinct to choke.
His hand strokes your hair as you suck him off, and his small moans fill the room, making your pussy even wetter.
You know what blue balls are, but as you continue to suck him off, you start to realize your core is having what must be the female equivalent. It’s not a pain, more of a deep longing to be full- as if your pussy knows there’s a perfectly wonderful cock literally within reach- but not filling where you need it most.
You suck him off until you can’t ignore the need any longer, and then you pull off of him, struggling to catch your breath.
“Need you now,” you tell him.
“Whatever you want, princess,” he says, kicking his sweats and underwear off of where they’d been pooled at his feet while you adjust on the bed.
No matter what kinky level a man is, you always feel like starting in missionary is a safe bet for everyone, so you lay on your back, spreading your legs invitingly for Seungcheol as he joins you on the bed.
“Just to double check,” he notes as your legs wrap around his hips, “you still don’t want me to grab a condom or anything?”
“We’re good,” you assure him.
“You’re on birth control of some kind?” he clarifies.
“Oh, I see how this is, you’re not worried about either of us have STI’s, you’re worried about getting me pregnant,” you laugh, stroking his broad shoulders.
“A baby in this economy?” Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “I know we both have money, but still.”
“Just shut up and kiss me,” you grin, threading your fingers through his soft hair to draw his lips down to yours.
Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, and he begins to grind down against you gently as you make out. His cock rubs your sensitive core, and you moan against his lips, deepening the kiss and gently tugging on his hair.
He teases you by making you wait, but soon, even his control is fading. He shifts his hand between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock so he can line the tip with your core.
“Fuck me,” you whisper, and with that, he slowly begins to push into you.
God, the stretch is perfection, and you close your eyes to release a moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as inch after perfect inch invades your wet core.
“You’re so big,” you whimper desperately, feeling adequately cock drunk already.
Seungcheol chuckles. “Maybe you’re just tight, been a while since you got laid, huh?”
“I’m a man hating feminist, remember?” you joke, letting out a laugh.
“I think you just have high standards,” Seungcheol groans as he bottoms out inside of you. He draws his lips to your throat, his breath ghosting over your skin as he whispers, “Nothing wrong with that.”
Your skin tingles as he begins to move, slowly fucking into you, giving your inner walls time to adjust and relax around the large intrusion.
Each thrust has you whimpering, and his kisses on your throat only stimulate you more. It feels like he’s worshipping you, and you get lost in the sensation, enjoying every moment and every movement.
“You feel amazing,” Seungcheol groans, fucking into you even harder, his hands gripping the pillow next to your head. You can tell he’s still trying to hold back a little, trying not to ruin you and betray how feral he is for you- but you kind of want him to be feral. You want to see Mister Unimpressed lose control.
“Fuck me properly,” you command, swallowing thickly. “Don’t hold back.”
Seungcheol pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. “Are you sure?”
“Break the bed, break my back for all I care- I want to feel you, all of you.”
The beautiful man chuckles. “If you say so, princess.”
He presses a kiss to your lips, then adjusts, pulling back. He moves your thighs so you’re folded in half, your knees resting over his shoulders as his hands grab your hips, lifting your lower half slightly off the bed.
Then he begins to fuck into you, using the leverage of your legs to keep himself upright and perfectly positioned to rail you like no one has ever railed you before. One of his hands finds the headboard, and he grips it hard, fucking into you wildly. The position has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, and it makes you squeal, grabbing at the bedsheets as pleasure engulfs you.
No one has ever been this deep, and it feels like nirvana as you give yourself willingly to a man whom, a year ago, you would have insisted would never land an interview with you, let alone a date or a potential relationship.
Your pussy is sloppy wet, but something about that is enjoyable for you, and you can tell from Seungcheol’s sounds that he’s obsessed with it too.
Lube has never been something you’d figured you should be ashamed of, and in this day of age, with the lack of courting and foreplay, generally in the past, lube has been something kind of necessary. But Seungcheol had put in the work, he’d made you cum twice, he’d teased and enticed you to the point of woman blue balls, and your wet core is a testament to the way he has worshipped you in order to deserve this moment.
Hell, you deserve this moment too, after singlehandedly taking on the reeducation of a patriarchically blinded film critic. These enraptured moments of passion are something you have worked toward together, and the promise of ecstasy is more than enough of a reward for both of you.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Seungcheol groans, throwing his head back and giving you a full view of his beautiful torso.
This man is going to be the death of you, but you could care less about that as you give yourself to him completely.
“Shit, get on your hands and knees,” Seungcheol says, abruptly pulling out of you and manhandling you into doggy position.
He pushes back into your core and you both groan, one of his warm hands finding your back and helping you rest your chest down against the bed, arching your body. This is also a deep position, and it makes you whimper as you clutch the bedding, eyes closed as your mind focuses entirely on the pleasure coursing through you with every snap of his hips.
“Fuck, I thought maybe this position would help me slow down,” he confesses, “but you look and feel amazing no matter what I do.”
“Why slow down?” you gasp.
“Don’t want you to think I’m a ten pump chump,” Seungcheol chuckles, digging his fingers into your hips as he fucks you wildly.
You laugh, your core clamping tightly around his cock with the clenching of your stomach muscles. “Cumming fast might be a compliment.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Just means you’re so into me,” you tease, fucking back toward him and making him groan even louder. “You think I’m so perfect.”
Seungcheol lets out a laugh but it turns into a moan again as he fucks you harder. “Enough with your mind reading psychology bullshit,” he tuts. “We both know I’m obsessed with you.”
“As you should be,” you grin.
Seungcheol shifts behind you, and then he’s pushing your thighs together. His hand finds your ass and he pushes you fully onto the bed, mounting you with his knees digging into the bed on either side of your body. He grabs a handful of your ass, fucking into you. It’s a more shallow position, but something about the rub of his cock- the angle of him against your inner walls makes you moan wildly.
He leans over your back, his breath teasing your skin. “Tell me we’re obsessed with each other,” he growls. “Tell me I’m not just some loser in a long line of losers who’s fallen for a girl I see on the movie screen.”
“You’re not just some loser,” you pant. “You didn’t love me when I was just a girl on a movie screen. You liked me in person, for my mind, for my opinions-”
Seungcheol groans, his lips finding your throat as you speak, his nose nuzzling against your skin as he continues to shallowly fuck you, his entire body laid over your back like some odd comfort blanket.
“I want to be with you,” you continue. “And not just because you fuck me like you were made for me.”
“Maybe you were made for me,” he counters. “Like Eve was made for Adam out of his own rib.”
You let out a groan of frustration. “Patriarchy!” you insist.
Seungcheol chuckles, sucking your earlobe into his mouth and making you shiver. His hands find yours and he interlaces your fingers, his palms pressed to the back of your hands. “Maybe we were made for each other,” he concedes.
“I can live with that,” you moan.
“I want you to cum with me,” Seungcheol says suddenly, “flip back over.”
Another adjustment has you back in missionary, your hand flying to your clit while Seungcheol pushes into you again. Your lips lock in a fiery kiss, your free hand cupping his cheek as you eat each other’s moans.
Each rub of your fingers on your sensitive clit has you closer and closer to the edge, your pussy gripping him even harder. He’s groaning like a mad man against your lips, and as your gasps reach a peak, you announce, “I’m cumming!”
Your core clamps down on his cock and he breaks the kiss to bury his face against your throat, groaning in your ear as his own thrusts falter. You can feel him cumming deep inside of you, can feel your pussy milking him for all he has, your thighs locked around his waist to keep him deep inside of you.
His body is twitching with the intensity of his orgasm, and you move your hand to stroke his powerful shoulders, loving each curve and groove of muscle.
Finally, his body comes to a stop, and he lays on top of you for a moment, gasping while he tries to catch his breath.
Neither of you say anything as you both come down from extreme highs, but in the quiet, there’s a sense of closeness that you’ve never felt with anyone else.
You bring your fingers to his hair, stroking his scalp as he nuzzles against your throat, pressing soft kisses there.
“We’ll make this work, if you want,” Seungcheol says softly after a few moments.
“I do want this,” you confirm.
“Me too.”
“But you have to promise not to be a dick when reviewing my future movies,” you tease.
Seungcheol laughs. “I’m not supposed to be biased with my work.”
“It won’t be biased, I’m so good at my job.”
Another chuckle escapes your lover as he sits up a little, looking down at your face. His thumb brushes your cheek. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Uh huh,” you grin.
Seungcheol shakes his head, letting out a deep breath.
This has been a tumultuous relationship to say the least, but there’s something to be said about the whole enemies to lovers angle. You and Seungcheol didn’t start by liking each other, but you suppose all the great romances had a hurdle such as this one that made the ending much more satisfying in the long run.
You could compare this to Pride and Prejudice, to Jane Eyre, to the great romantics that you read in university and fell in love with, and it feels wonderful to have your own great progression story. You’re not sure where this will take you, but you’re excited for the next chapters with Seungcheol.
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🔮 preview. The warm water sloshes around your bodies like an embrace, and you can feel all the tension and anxiety slipping out of your form. You’re breathing harder as he strokes the orgasmic fire that’s beginning to build inside of you again, and you close your eyes to focus on the embers that promise intense flames.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, sex in a bathtub, oral, pussy eating, fingering, praise, dirty talk, breast worship, body worship, overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of sex toys, mentions of phone sex, sexual massaging, handjob, etc… I petnames. (hers). princess.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 100
🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader
bonus
As you’d imagined, scheduling has been the most difficult part of your relationship with Seungcheol. In the year you’ve been dating, you’ve only really been home for about four months, but somehow, you’ve made things work. He’s a man who is glued to his phone for work, so texting daily hasn’t been a problem.
And there’s something to be said about sex when you haven’t seen each other in a few weeks. Nothing says I miss you like a proper fuck fest, and part of your relationship compromise has been making time for Seungcheol to come visit you while you’re away in exotic locations while filming.
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» summary: sexual frustration is a curse, and it's plagued you. you can't even begin to recall the last time you orgasmed—weeks, maybe even months ago? you're desperate. so what if one night, the night where you finally feel close to finishing, your neighbor goes and fucks it all up by being loud? well, you go over to his apartment and give him a heavy tongue lashing, of course. except, what happens when he decides to return the favor...
» genres + warnings: college au, neighbor trope (they lowkey don't like each other until they do), reader's SUPER mean to yunho at first, yunho calls reader a bitch (only once), teasing, LOTSSS of dirty talk, heavy make-outs, grinding, yunho's an eater, pussy rubbing w/ tip (NO PENETRATION), dom!yunho, sub!reader (reader gets whipped into shape), yunho basically c*ms all over reader's cunt, lust-drunk yunho, lust-drunk reader, small depiction of "choking", overstimulation, verrryyy breif mingi cameo
» w.c: 9k
» a/n: so, i'm actually obsessed with this concept, #loveit #holyshitthisissodirty #wet
"yeah baby? you almost there? come on, hurry and finish."
as the video progresses, you grip your phone tighter. the random man continues to spill out sweet nothings, fueling your desire.
he's positioned upright in a chair, rubbing his cock feverishly with a heaving chest. you almost mimic his breathing as simultaneously, you quicken the pace on your clit.
your headphones perfectly encapsulate the low, sultry voice he speaks to you in, and a brisk shudder over takes you.
with a slight thrash to your body, you widen and close your legs against the soft bed. your fingers work at maintaining the pleasure pulsing throughout your core, while the desperation fills your stomach.
fuuck. you're so close this time. you just know it.
so what if all of the other attempts this past week has been an utter fail? you just know this time will be different.
a low whine buzzes from your lips and briefly your eyes shut, "awww....mmmm. yes. oh fuck, i'm..." you keep on whispering to yourself.
the speed you’re producing is so intense, it practically has your pelvis rocking alongside the rhythm. no true thoughts resided in your head—simply the absolute need to finish blares in the forefront of your mind.
by now, the man on your screen appears to also be close, with how his body starts to convulse, "baby—shit. i can feel the cum about to rush out. fucking hell, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna cum."
and right as his torso stiffens and the milky load begins to spill out, a loud thump from outside of your headphones makes you nearly drop your phone smack dab onto your face.
“holy-!” you jolt from the noise, putting an immediate halt to your movements down below. quickly, you pause the video as you remain still, trying to process what the hell that noise was.
there’s a pause.
after a second, you think you’re okay to start up again; however, another roaring bang echoes in from your left, and this time, you let your phone fall down next to you while you scramble to yank off your headphones.
when yet another sound is made from the other side of your wall, you find yourself shooting up from your bed. breathing heavy from adrenaline, you hear from a distance slight murmurs being muffled by the division—but oh god, do you know them all too well.
eyes narrowing, you try to focus in on the voice. there’s more murmuring followed by a heinous cackle, one that resembles a hyena. then shortly after, an even louder thud flows into your room and at this point, you’re absolutely triggered.
this bastard.
“i’m gonna kill him.” the words are tight and menacing as immediately, you throw the blankets away from your body and scoot out of bed.
fuming, you grab your sleep shorts from the floor and yank them up your legs, before jamming your feet into nearby slippers. you throw on the tank top just left in your bed, and soon you’re stomping out of your bedroom.
ooh, that freaking bastard. words can't even begin to describe how pissed you are. any chance at you having the perfect orgasm—long gone. the feeling between your legs—your pleasure and desire—instantly dissipated. what remains is raging hot aggression, the kind that you can feel radiating from your core.
little grumbles leave your mouth as you now pass by your living room, a nearby clock reading, ‘1:47 AM’. just the sight of the time makes your eye twitch, and after swiping your keys from their place holder, you swiftly beeline out your apartment door, making sure to end with a harsh slam.
it takes 0.2 seconds before you’re standing in front of your neighbor’s door, harshly knocking at it. there’s no breaks, just continuous, rapid banging.
tiny comments flow from your mouth, "swear this stupid idiot.....god, i’m gonna.....he's so dead..."
from the other side, you hear footsteps approaching, along with quiet mumbles and a laugh. you’re still pounding at the door until there's a soft click and it gets thrown in.
there stands your idiotic neighbor—jeong yunho—holding the door propped open with one hand and a phone to his ear with the other.
he's lost in conversation, his gaze to the floor and a short smile present. he hasn’t registered who's here yet. though, once he briefly glances up, yunho's whole demeanor begins to change. he sees you, pissed, sticking out your hip and crossing your arms.
“oh……" yunho's face sinks in on himself, mouth now slightly parted. he casts a look away as his expression turns stoic, "uh. yeah, i’m gonna have to call you back.”
as you wait for him to hang up, foot tapping to count the seconds, you couldn’t help the way your eyes fleet around to examine his sleep attire. it looks so similar to yours.
a black tank top that hugs his torso and basketball shorts that hang loosely off his waist. usually when you come over here, he's decked out in a large sweatshirt plus sweatpants. at some point, you started to think that's all he owned. but, clearly not.
when your eyes skip over to the arm on the door, you could see his bicep flexing from how hard he gripped the wood. and close to that, you peep the messy state his hair is in, all curly and tussled.
after observing his face, you start to realize you've been ogling at him for too long. so, you force yourself to look away and pick up an interest in the carpet you're standing on. god, does he just piss you off. you can't even stand the sight of him.
a harsh sigh leaves your throat and you start to roll your neck around in frustration. can he just hurry up?
yunho grimaces softly at your outburst before returning to his friend. he listens intently to what's being said, part of him also trying to mask the irritation pricking at his skin, "hmm? yeah, i guess. just be quick about it."
a low voice is on the other end, you register, evident by the deep laugh he produces. you can't really make out anything being said, but after sneaking a glance at yunho, you assume a question’s being asked.
he's giving it some careful thought. his head shifts up a tiny bit, eyes moving around the ceiling as he thinks. but, really, the moment you swiftly hold up your nails to randomly inspect them, that's when he's able to dart his eyes down to your distracted body and give the question true thought.
he's watchful of your next-to-nothing clothing, and how it outlines every part of you. the small buds poking through your tank top fabric, proving that you're not wearing a bra. your smooth thighs that are held close together. he's observant of everything.
however, when you shake your shoulders back and throw your hand down, it quickly snaps yunho out of his mild trance. in one motion, he sweeps his attention away from you and clears his throat.
“okay, i’m not even gonna think about what you just asked—no, seriously i’ll call you back later. i’m hanging up now.”
he wastes no time in dropping his hand and ending the call. then, as he peers upwards, ready to formally address you—well, you make sure to beat him to it
your head is cocked to the side as an icy tone slips out, "finally. i was starting to get impatient."
blinking, yunho stares at you briefly before inhaling a long breath. he can already tell how the rest of this conversation is going to go, judging by your already snippy attitude.
"i'm sorry about that. the phone call ran a little longer than i-"
"frankly, i don't give a fuck about that," you cut him off, body instantly tensing up from just how annoyed you are, “have you lost your goddamn mind? it is the middle of the night, why the hell are you being so loud? again?"
fuck him. his body expels a quiet sigh as his tall figure hunches down slightly, "i was just...rearranging some furniture."
this time, your words are more clipped, "and you couldn't have waited until morning? are you a fucking idiot?"
it takes everything in yunho to keep his composure.
lately, every single time you come knocking at his door to complain, this is usually how it goes. you storm over, beat at his door, then berate him for about 5 minutes before walking away and slamming your door shut. every. single. time.
he wonders where this anger came from all of sudden, the hostility. you hadn’t always been this grumpy, but for the past week, it’s like you’d just decided to hate his guts. even in passing, like when riding the elevator or entering the apartment together, you always wear a scowl around him. like it's now been permanently etched into your face.
seriously, what’s your deal?
when you make a particularly frustrated groan half-way through your rant, it's then yunho comes back to reality.
"this is my third time coming over here in a week. my third time. but somehow, there’s always some stupid fucking excuse as to why you’re being so damn loud," you sneer, not even able to recount all of the other dumb reasons he's given you thus far, "do you think i enjoy this? having to tell you to shut up every other day?"
his face reactively tilts down as a dry scoff flies out. sorry, but he doesn't really want to deal with all of this tonight. if that makes him apathetic towards your situation, oh well—so be it.
before he knows it, a snarky remark comes flying out, "well, you have been making it a habit lately, so i'm sure you must find some enjoyment in being a bitch. right?" he ends off with a straight face and condescending shrug.
oh.
in a flash, the blood flowing through you turns cold. your eyes go bewildered from his dig at you and you change your stance to somewhat cage him in. you notice he doesn’t move away from you, but that didn’t stop you from still trying to size him up—if that’s even possible.
“listen to me, jeong yunho,” your voice starts off unusually low, and surprisingly, yunho seems to respond well to it, “i don’t want to come back here ever again. so either you shut the actual fuck up for good, or i’m calling our landlady next time and i’m going to have your ass finally evicted.”
after you finished, an overbearing silence takes over. there are so many things yunho could say to you right now. his mind is racing a mile a minute, and yet his mouth remains closed as his eyes begin to lower. his hand is starting to shake from squeezing the door so hard.
eventually he drops his arm, right as you take a few steps back. you both have this lingering tension in the air, almost as if you two are secretly trying to zap each other with the charged energy. before you walk off, you make sure to eye yunho up and down with an obvious snarl.
“you got that?”
his eyes wander around your stature, and once he makes eye contact with you, he breathes in deeply, “you know, it’s always such a pleasure whenever you visit. really, you should do it more often. tomorrow night, maybe?”
his tone couldn’t be laced with any more sarcasm. and to that, you simply begin to walk away, not forgetting to throw a, ‘fuck off,’ over your shoulder.
yunho waits until you’re close to your door before calling out to you one last time, “get some good sleep. or else tomorrow, you're gonna wake up cranky again. and we don't want that, now. ”
you flip him off clear as day, and then with a tight grip on your handle, you slam the door shut. shortly after, you hear your neighbor’s own door close just as aggressively.
now that you’re in the comfort of your own space, you finally let out the whiny squeal built up from the interaction, “ugh!”
fuck, he gets underneath your skin in a way you’ve never experienced before. the anger makes your body tingly all over, lighting up each and every part of you. you’re on fire.
kicking off your slippers, you don’t even care where they land. you toss your keys in any direction when passing your kitchen table. upon entering your room, you immediately begin to strip because for some reason, the clothes were becoming too constricting.
once you’re in your underwear, your body flops down backwards onto the bed, your breasts to the ceiling. chests huffing, you still feel your heart thumping from the events earlier, but also from the sheer frustration coursing through your veins.
frustrated that you’ve had to deal with jeong yunho for the past week, and absolutely nothing has changed. frustrated that no matter what the circumstance is, he manages to get you heated like no other. frustrated that you missed out on what would’ve been your best orgasm as of late, if only he just...wasn’t your neighbor.
you roll over to your side, staring blankly at the wall. as unfortunate as it is, you can’t control who your neighbors are—meaning the irritation you feel is just a consequence of poor residency. but, you absolutely could’ve relieved at least your sexual frustrations. and you had been so close too. a silent huff fills the room as a pout grows on your lips. what are you going to do?
because even if the feeling in your core has long disappeared, internally, there's still this lingering itch needing to be satiated. it's buried deep down, but it's there. you can sense it. you breathe out another groan and soon find yourself shifting to your backside once again. the feeling is definitely there. it just needs to be reactivated.
so without much thinking, you pick up your phone from wherever it was around your bed, and begin tapping aimlessly on the screen. the video you had been previously watching is immediately pulled up, though you're not in the mood for it anymore. you’re craving something else.
after searching and scrolling around the website, another intriguing video catches your eye, and in one swoop you click on it. after so many fails and empty climaxes, you have a last resort in mind to finally cure your desire—but, it's one you were trying to avoid.
already connected to your headphones, the video starts to play and quickly you lean over to your bedside drawer. it's not a hard find, your little pink rose toy, as it’s tucked away in its usual corner. the last time you had used it...maybe five months ago? six? you can't exactly pinpoint it, you just know it's been a while.
you roll back over to your bed, your eyes scanning it wearily, "mmmm...."
you don't know what's wrong with you. you really have no idea. but a while ago, you learned that your clit is extremely sensitive. and it was because of this toy. the first time you had used it, not only did you nearly piss yourself (genuinely), your orgasm also came in six minutes.
it had buzzed, sucked, and pulsed your cunt in a way you've simply never experienced before, and honestly, you hated how quickly it made you finish. on top of that, you were left feeling raw and overstimulated afterwards, trembling in your bed once it was over. ever since then, you've opted to use your fingers, something that gives you time to fully enjoy the experience.
however, tonight is different. you've tried everything already, but to no avail. you're needy. you're desperate. you want to get this over with. if that means you'll be finishing in basically five minutes—then so freaking be it.
not wasting another second, you quickly begin to toss on your headphones and immediately the sounds of a male moaning enters your head. you pick up your phone in one hand, and reposition the vibrator in the other.
your knees instinctively rise up as you move your body around in order to find the perfect position. when you believe you’ve achieved it, you use your thumb to press down on the small button which turns on the rose.
although the sound is silent to you, the buzzing that's instantly felt in your palm makes you shiver. nearly a whimper topples out of you from just pure anticipation of what's to come. steadily, you move the toy down, all the while your eyes remain glued to the scene.
the new man is needy, just like you. he's gripping and palming himself over his clothed erection, causing the once lost feeling to be reignited inside you. a slow throb pulses through your core. the moment the vibrator touches your own clothed sex, a tiny moan shoots out. already, you feel the vibrations hitting you in all the right places, and you're not even bare.
you press it down a little harder into your clit, the sensation now overtaking your whole cunt. shuddering, you allow yourself to adjust to the pace, but not for very long. without fail, your hips begin to gradually buck against it as the rose works itself into your slit.
your teeth goes to tug onto your lower lip, and momentarily your eyes flutter close, "oh my god."
you have to stop your back from arching off the bed, that's how good it feels. you keep the toy close to your sex, and even start to circle it around your underwear to produce more ripples of pleasure throughout.
and with each surge of pleasure, there's a reactive noise to go along with it. you notice you're more vocal than usual, but truly it's because you can't help it. that's what makes using this toy so dangerous.
another low whimper fills your ears as this time, the man starts to slowly bring out his cock. he's not in a rush. no, he’s barely touching himself, yet he’s still squirming around as if anything more would be too much. like any small movement would cause himself to cum on the spot. the sight of him just turns you on even more.
by now, you're full on humping yourself into the vibrator, even though you haven't touched yourself naked with it. you're too nervous that once you do, you'll be seriously cumming and shooting out liquids all over the place. the barricade of your underwear is enough for you. you still feel on the edge of an orgasm.
"hmm...hmm...fuck, 'm almost there." your face is a mess right now, you already know. the small grunts you're letting out overrun your mouth. the shallow breaths you’re emitting. all of it attests to how much of a mess you are.
you can't control anything that's happening. not the way your hips are chasing after the vibrations, nor the way your eyes squint open to see the man jerk himself off. his cock is even twitching from each stroke, like it's ready to explode any moment.
you groan a little louder, "holy...fuck. oh, fuck. gonna cum soon. mmm....gonna...cuh—"
- beeeeep -
a text notification comes popping in from the top of your screen, followed by another. you skim over them, stopping all movements plus the video. once you register what was said, as well as who sent them, it makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach.
jeong yunho
2:14 AM
i think i understand why you've been so moody lately
you’re just a little frustrated, aren’t you y/n?
focus blurred, you quickly exit out of the video, going to fully open up the texts. meanwhile, the vibrator lays lonely between your legs as it continues to suction on your clit in a way that has you lightly jerking around.
your eyes narrow, “stupid fucking a-asshole.” straight away, the pads of your fingers type out a short message. just have to get this over with.
y/n
2:16 AM
i don’t know what you’re talking about
before you can even leave the message log, your neighbor is already producing another text.
jeong yunho
2:16 AM
yeah, the vibrator isn’t all that quiet
embarrassment rushes to your face, your hand shooting down towards the toy. you skittishly remove it from yourself and quickly power it off, then throw it to the other side of your bed, “shit!”
you’re so screwed. oh fuck, you’re so screwed. yunho is never going to let this go, you can already foresee it, and just that thought alone is enough to make your cheeks burn. how humiliating.
jeong yunho
2:17 AM
why’d it stop? did you come already?
weird, i didn’t hear it
“what’s his problem?” running a hand over your face, you hold back a groan that truly wants to escape out of you. are you stupid? had you really been that loud? you don’t think you were, but, god, somehow he still heard you.
with your face all scrunched, shame overtaking your expression, you bring your fingers forward again to begrudgingly type out a response.
y/n
2:19 AM
what are you even saying right now?
again, i have no idea what you’re talking
you can’t let him know the truth. in your mind, all you can do right now is just deny.
….deny…deny….de…ny…?
jeong yunho
2:20 AM
yeah?
you don’t remember moaning over and over again just now? whining about how you’re almost there?
that you’re so close to cumming?
i mean, you just said it, how can you not remember?
your face shrinks while reading the string of questions. well, fucking hell. what more could you say now? he basically called you out and quoted you verbatim. slowly, your eyes shut and you take steady breaths. oh wow. your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest right now. you can feel it.
but furthermore, you feel so exposed. so vulnerable. especially since it’s him who heard it. fuck, why him? to make matters worse, there’s not much you can even say to refute his messages. at this point, he knows, really knows. so, how do you respond?
y/n
2:22 AM
fuck off
yunho
2:22 AM
the walls aren’t thin, i’m sure you of all people would know
y/n
2:22 AM
jeong yunho, fuck off
jeong yunho
2:23 AM
i could hear you so clearly. you sounded needy
like you were gonna finish at any second, but didn’t, yeah?
you never orgasmed?
even with your cold replies, how is that he still has more to say? that more messages continue to flood in? your moods already been killed, but now it feels torturous to sit here and just take it.
y/n
2:24 AM
i’m not talking about this anymore
you glance off to the side as the vexation travels through you. part of you debates if you should just go ahead and block him—rid yourself from this nonsense. he's toying with you right now. obviously. and you're sick of it.
you fix your fingers to get ready and block him for good, when a vibration buzzes in your hand.
jeong yunho
2:26 PM
but you're still frustrated, right?
you know, if you really need help, i can come over
reading that makes you audibly gasp. what is happening? now, you feel like he's just saying anything.
y/n
2:28 AM
stop it
you're not being serious
scowling, you adjust your back against the bed. what a stupid joke. stupid jeong yunho, with his stupid joke. your eyes look up to your ceiling, mind wandering. he doesn't mean what he's saying...you know he doesn't. he's just messing with you, as always.
until his other message comes through.
jeong yunho
2:28 AM
i promise you i am
it really doesn't have to mean anything either. im just offering some help.
after seeing that, your face bucks backwards. where is this even coming from? you're so confused.
jeong yunho
2:29 AM
so can i come over?
yeah, you aren't sure what sort of game he's trying to play, but you're not falling for this.
y/n
2:30 AM
absolutely not
you’re not coming anywhere near me
there’s a brief pause before he types another response.
jeong yunho
2:31 AM
oh yeah? what about inside of you?
your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. WHAT. instinctively, you bring a hand up towards the wall. two loud smacks are given to the hard surface as you try your hardest to slow down your breathing. holy—what the actual fuck is wrong with him?
from the other side, a subtle laugh reverbs through the wall, and you resist the urge to beat harder on the surface. shortly after, another message comes through on your phone.
jeong yunho
2:34 AM
sorry, guess that was too much lol
but i’m being serious, y/n
no wonder why you’ve been so bitchy lately, you’re just sexually frustrated. and clearly you need help.
reading the latest text has you scoffing, though some cold sweats begin to drip from your forehead. because how was he able to read you so well? yeah, maybe you’ve been a tad bit snappier with him recently, but that could be for any reason! you didn’t like how easily he figured you out, especially since you are sexually frustrated. and it’s bad.
even then, you find yourself with your guard up still. he may be able to call out your problem, however, that doesn’t mean you want—jeong yunho of all people—to fix it. he’s your annoying, dumbass neighbor. what all does he know?
as you permanently shut down whatever the proposition was in your head, you also force yourself to ignore the slight twinge your belly does. you’d be lying if you said there wasn't a small part of you affected by his words. wondering, what exactly is he offering right now?
no.
shaking your head, you tighten the pressure against your legs as you prepare to type out one final message.
y/n
2:37 AM
for the last time, no.
just leave me alone
with that, you turn off your phone. another buzz comes through, but you don’t even check it. you’re so over it—over him.
turning, you try to find a comfortable spot on your back, panting slightly from pure anxiousness. your heart feels like it's about ready to explode from his words.
'you know, if you really need help, i can come over'
reactively, a hallow laugh tumbles out from you, eyes closing briefly. because seriously, what is the matter with him? he's ridiculous. always saying the crudest, most dumbest things. but now, it's truly gone too far.
your eyes crack open and then you decide to adjust over to your side, facing away from your phone. your mind starts to wander to all the events from tonight.
the night had started off so good.
the sensation just pouring through your core the first time you started masturbating. god, did it feel amazing. even when that attempt at an orgasm failed, the same pleasure was quietly still there. silently waiting for its chance to finally spill over.
but, it never did.
rounds after rounds—even with jeong yunho's interruption—you never came. it's been a week of this. and now, you're just done. you've decided that this rut you're in has gotten the best of you.
you don't know how long you'll be suffering, with the subtle ache pulsing away in your core. hopefully with time, it'll go away.
a sudden vibration makes your skin jump. turning around, you spot your phone inches away from you, the screen lighting up. yunho's contact pops up from afar.
eyes low, you stare at the phone. your brain is scattered, and yet, a recurring thought keeps coming back to you.
should you do it?
you've literally tried everything. fingers, pillow humping, fisting. even the rose toy, which usually has you cumming in genuine seconds, couldn't get you off, and frankly, you don’t want it to anymore. you're stuck.
you blink your eyes a few times.
what all would he even do?
you don't think you'd want to go...all the way with him. just something to help alleviate your pressure. and nothing that would last too long, you had to be up early in the morning. quickly, a blush overtakes your face as you start to feel embarrassed by your thoughts. but...anything is better than nothing, right?
"oh, god..." your stomach churns when you reach out to grab your phone.
unlocking it, you see the latest messages from your neighbor were attempts at trying to sway you. still, you disregard them. you've made up your mind now.
with a burnt face, you type out a simple: 'fine, come over', all the while you try your hardest to calm down your nerves.
he replies back in an instant, but you've already powered off your phone, stomach full of butterflies at the thought of jeong yunho taking care of your problem.
yet, when you start to truly think about how jeong yunho will take care of this problem, an immediate pulse hits you hard in your center.
before you even have a chance to react to the sensation, rapid knocking emerges from the distance. your stomach sinks to your ass, as you frantically work to put your tank top back on. then, you leap out of bed.
you don't even have time to reconsider this idea, with how swiftly you glide out of your bedroom and across the living room. you're scared the moment you start to think about this, you'll back out. and deep down, you know you don't want to do that. not when another chance has literally thrown itself at you.
only an idiot would pass this up.
once you reach your front door, you don't even check your peephole. with a quick twist of the handle, you open the wooden door inwards, and there stands jeong yunho on the other side.
his body looms over yours as he leans against the door frame. although he's still wearing the same outfit from earlier—the tank top and shorts combo, there's no longer an annoyed expression to accompany it. no, there's something entirely new.
his eyebrow's are furrowed, indicating slight confusion. there's a sprinkle of curiosity within his eyes, and below that, the corners of his mouth are turned smugingly upward. but all over, yunho has a faint red hue coating his face, like he's also nervous for what's to come.
for a short second, neither of you say anything. a quiet staring contest is what you both have. there's a look to yunho's eyes that makes you want to clench your stomach. bouncing your eyes back and forth between his gaze.
until unexpectedly, he clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, "crazy, now the roles are reversed. hold on—should i start yelling at you too? throw in some degradation while i'm at it?"
you see him trying to hold back a grin as he stifles out a laugh. his eyes are crinkled and dimples are showing, all the while you begin to lower your gaze. haha, so funny.
eventually, your face straightens out into a deadpan, "shut up."
yunho continues to laugh, body shaking as he chuckles, and without thinking, you lunge to grab at his chest, "just get in here."
bunching up his tank top, you yank him inside your apartment. he enters with a stumble, with you only releasing him when he's few inches behind you.
more laughter is coming from the tall boy, and while you hear him trying to regain his balance, you stay facing forward with a hand on the door. part of you is still contemplating if you should go through with this whole thing, and yet the other part is yelling at you to stop making things so complicated.
both sides are clawing at you, though once you take a deep breath, a brief moment of clarity hits. you use your courage to push the door close, now trapping you both inside.
you slowly turn around towards yunho. he's already taken off his slippers and placed them onto the nearby rack, waiting for you to make the next advancements. a small smile remains on his face.
okay, this is serious. your vision darts off to the corner, fingers reaching to play with the hem of your tank top, "uhh...so..." there's a pause, "bedroom's just down the hall."
yunho now regards you with a mildly confused face, raising an eyebrow. he's definitely sensing a change in your attitude from just moments ago. you fidget once more with your shirt, the silence becoming too deafening for you. ultimately, you decide to proceed forward towards the narrow hallway.
at least, until a hand catches you in place.
"not so fast...where do you think you're going?" yunho's voice piques up at the end as he starts to bring you back, his grip firm and tight. you're tripping over your own feet and only stop once you're placed directly in front of him.
you don't look up at him, even though you feel his eyes burning deeply into your scalp. the spot where he's touching you starts to heat up, and all you begin to think about is how hot his touch will feel other places. oh, god. now you really can't look at him anymore, your face feels completely flushed.
yunho's aware of his hold on you, though he doesn't try to remove it. his eyes remain on you and how he can tell you're deliberately avoiding eye contact. he's never seen you so shy before, he realizes. so timid. it's almost a complete turn around from how you've been acting this past week—hell, even the past three months he's known you.
he's realizing that you're truly nervous, and god does he like that. eyelids fluttering, yunho feels little tingles start to spread all over his body.
"hey," his tone is more serious, but you sense a hint of playfulness somewhere, "y/n, you gotta look at me when i'm trying to talk to you."
the moment he addresses you, your body erupts into shivers. as your head stays lowered, your eyes slowly work their up till their peering through your eyelashes.
"what do you want?" your voice is a buzzed whisper.
"are you nervous?" his hand shifts up from your arm to now your shoulder, "you're acting so different."
you want to shrug him off of you and back away, though the slight squeeze he has on you keeps you from doing so. instead, you feel that area begin to heat up, your attention remaining on him.
"i'm not nervous," how you managed to say that without stuttering—you don't know either, but your heart feels like it's gonna explode, "i'm just not used to....this."
he mulls over your words, lips pursing in somewhat agreement, "hmm, yeah. i can see that. i don't usually call my neighbors over for a late night session either.
your face lightly scrunches, "i didn't really call you ov-"
"i don't want you to worry, though," ignoring you, he shifts his hand once again until it's resting near the nape of your neck, fingers curled over it, "i know you think i'm just gonna go in that room, fuck you a couple of times, then leave."
his vulgar words shock you. expression now stunned, your breathing turns heavy as he travels his hand towards the front of your neck, now placing a soft clasp around your throat, "but i won't do that to you. i told you i'm here to help. here for you."
gradually, the hard look in your eyes begins to melt. your face becomes more relaxed, and yunho notices this.
"what, you like this? my hand around your throat?" he mumbles out.
you're dazed, lips slightly parted from the quiet gasps you're taking in. he cocks his head to the side as he watches your changing face.
"mmm, i kinda like seeing you in this state," his eyes rake around your features, whole time you stare back weakly, "can't really call me an idiot anymore, can you?"
you try to speak, but yunho instantly hushes you quiet. he's stroking his thumb up and down your smooth skin as he leans in just a tiny bit.
"you're so cute, y/n. just the face you're making, it's so..."
he's only inches from you, you can feel his breath hit your face. oh, god. and he's coming closer towards your lips. his eyes are low, mouth hanging, waiting to take in yours.
you close your eyes in anticipation, but at the last second, he curves your face.
his mouth goes to the shell of your ear instead, just barely touching, "go take us to the bedroom now."
his words pour into your head as a near whimper dribbles out of you. he backs away with the same heated look in his eye, while you're completely disoriented. he takes his hand away from you, and with a small stagger you turn around and lead him down the hall.
what fucking spell did he just put you under? your head is mush. you can't think straight. the throb in your core is practically beating at you, and it's making you even more dizzy. the moment you step foot into your nightly lit bedroom, you're immediately twisting to face yunho. oh, you're done for.
he's trailing in behind you, his walk a bit different from yours. he ambles up to you, though when you briefly glance down at his shorts, there's an obvious bulge sticking out of the fabric. your eyes widen, but yunho's calling your name to recapture your attention.
he stops in front of you, eyes heavy with lust, "just looking at you got me so hard."
"yunho," you say with whine. your neck is craned upward to look at his face.
"so fucking hard." he repeats, tone even lowered. his hand comes back up to your nape, and you watch him lean down, "i can't even concentrate."
your eyes bounce back and forth between his gaze and his lips. you want to beg for a kiss. beg for him to finally end this tortured pain you're in. but instead, you part your lips and lower your eyes, signaling to him that you're ready. desperation fills your expression, and yunho is drinking every bit up.
he watches your hazy state, how quickly you fell apart for him. what an absolute turn around from how you were acting earlier in the night. you're just a mindless doll at this point. so ready to be completely ruined by him.
thinking this, a low groan escapes his throat, "god, you're so good to me."
his mouth drops slowly before enveloping yours with a greedy kiss—finally. he takes your lips hungrily as you tilt your head for a better taste. the two of you stumble back slightly until the bed grazes the back of your knees. he grips the back of your neck harder.
the intensity of the kiss has you levitating. slow pants start to leave your mouth, only to get swallowed up by yunho’s mouth. he’s coming at you, hard, as if he’s been deprived for so long. you slip a bit of your tongue into his mouth which sends a shudder down his back. as payback, when yunho’s lips come down on yours again, he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth.
you whimper. you two are completely enamored with one another. all thoughts have left your head and you're left with a desire that's practically eating you alive.
his lips part from yours once more, "fuck. can't wait for you to make such big mess on me."
he breathes heartily then captures your mouth, the two of you sharing another kiss. swiftly, he breaks away, "gonna make you cum so hard."
he uses all of his weight in the next kiss he gives you. yunho begins to lower you further into the mattress, the two of you not releasing. the bed squeaks from the added pressure, until eventually you're laying down on your back. and a genuine whimper buzzes out of you. you're dying within his grasp.
he’s pulling your lips harshly within his, groaning and mumbling more dirty words. the hand behind your neck shifts towards your front, him pressing down into your throat. that makes you whine. the noise bellows out of you, only for yunho to shut you up with a rough kiss. god, you're so loud. he thinks to himself.
still passionately making out, his pelvis starts to rock between your legs. he's so fucking turned on right now. his bulge rolls deep into your underwear, your pussy creating the perfect crevice for him. the new friction makes you see stars. so much is happening right now: the kissing, his hand on you, the way he's grinding into you, all of it has your senses on overload.
then, he rips himself away. he slides his hand up to underneath your chin and forcefully turns your face away. he goes to the side of your neck—kissing, sucking, and licking around your skin. you can already feel the hickies starting to form.
"need to leave a reminder for you," his words fall onto your neck, and all you could do is moan, "you're gonna remember this night."
he places a few more hickies on you.
releasing his hand, he starts to travel down your body. he kisses and licks along your sternum, before stopping at your breasts. his eyes flicker up to your lust-out expression, taking a brief pause. you wait anxiously for his next move.
"want me to suck on them?" his voice is just barely audible. you quickly shake your head 'yes'.
his gaze drops down to your tits. your hard nipples poke out of the fabric of your tank top. they're practically begging for stimulation. he leans in close to your buds, and gives one of them a quick flick of his tongue.
"oh, god." your body stutters from the sensation.
intrigued by your response, he leans over to quickly lick at the other bud, you reacting the same way. you are just so fucking sensitive, he's noticed. everything he's done so far has you damn near falling apart.
he keeps this in mind as he keeps working his way down. he gives you kisses against your stomach which causes butterflies to erupt and your belly to convulse slightly.
soon, he's at your underwear. you're quivering, body squirming, just waiting for him. but, he doesn't proceed. he sits a bit longer. your underwear is a cute color, a pretty shade of purple. and it holds your cunt so well.
"so pretty," muttering, he dips down to place a soft peck at the top of your underwear, "oh my—are you twitching right now?"
he calls you out with tiny grin. he's watchful of your current demeanor. you've already shut your eyes. it'd been too much to see yunho do this to you. with each little touch he's given you, your body reacts like it's never experienced this before. your short breaths fill the room, and you think anything else will make you cry. you really are a mess.
"just...just do something," you whine, "please, yunho."
and with that, he's instantly gliding your underwear off of you, throwing it wherever on the ground. he grips your knees and pushes them further back as now, he gets the best view of your needy cunt.
you're glistening, wetness coating your lips like someone had just drenched water on you. he swears he even sees your hole lightly opening and closing, basically asking for it to be stuffed.
a groan trickles from lips, "why is your cunt so perfect? it's just begging for me to ruin it." he takes his fingers from off of your knee and runs them up and down your slit.
"gah—yunho!" wailing, your pussy immediately clenches from his movement.
"you're like a toy, holy shit," he does the motion again, except this time he makes sure to end with slow circles at your clit, "your body listens to me so well, like the good toy you are."
a string of slickness leaks from your entrance. oh, man. you can already sense your sensitivity getting the best of you. he's only just now started stimulating your cunt, but it feels like too much already.
"you twitch on command. leak on command," in a swift motion, he brings his head down to lay his tongue on your sex, starting from your wet entrance and ending at the top. he whispers out the next part, "can i make you cum on command?"
when he moves his hand away to do the same action again, your eyes roll into the back your head. yunho grips your knees again, his face buried deep between your legs. he gives a hearty lick to your cunt once more, then another, then another.
"mmmm, fuck. yunho, this....this feels so good." you're lightly jerking, hips involuntarily moving. he use this as motivation.
his jaw flexes open, taking in a greater amount. soon, his licks turn into large kisses. he's conscious of the fact that you're on edge. he feels you moving around in his grasp. he's determined to make you finish, now.
mouth fully between your cunt, he swirls his tongue deeply into it. ripples of pleasure come bursting through your core, shooting up through your veins, before ending at your head. you feel faint.
your hips push harder against his face, and a noise quickly starts up. a squelching sound rings through both of your ears as your wet pussy begins to mix with yunho's mouth. it sounds disgustingly wet—but, you love it. you feel so dirty, so nasty, but that just turns you on even more.
your juices turn frothy and bubbles out from the side of yunho's face. when realizing this, he groans inside your sweet clit. it vibrates you in a way that makes you quiver. you let out a throaty moan and he starts to speed up his pace.
"oh, oh—i think i'm close." you huff, chest rising up and down sporadically. god, you're so close.
yunho hums at your words, but to be honest, he's too drunk off your taste to really hear you. he's too far gone. more sloppy kisses are given to your cunt. they're sloppy, filthy—disgusting. so much so that he starts to shake his head in circles, just to give an extra sense of pleasure. the other secret reason, he freaking loves how wet his face feels from your dripping cunt. he wants it permanently on his face.
he goes in faster. you're already whining, wailing out desperate cries. it truly is too much. the build up from earlier to now, you don't even know how you were able to last this long. though, it's going to be over soon.
and soon hits you faster than you could've ever expected.
you don't even know what triggers it—probably everything—but in an instant, your body quickly convulses and your eyes go white. your orgasm hits you stronger than you've ever felt before.
"ah—fuck! oh, god!"
yunho clamps down onto you when he feels you orgasming, his mouth slurping and licking all over your pulsating core. he feels even more liquid gush out, only adding to the mixture he's created. he guzzles it all down, just everything is so messy.
you continue to thrash around, part of you trying to break free from his grasp while the other part does nothing but let your rapture wash over you. eventually, your body calms down, your movements slowing to a halt. even as you try to regain your composure, yunho's still going at you as if he's starved. now, you're going into overstimulation territory.
"ahhh, yunho," glancing down, your voice is weak when you address him, "mmm, you can stop now. i'm done."
he drinks up your pussy one last time, before parting dramatically. he's pushes himself up, so now you can fully see his face. and god, is it glimmering in wetness. but, before you can even comment on his current state, yunho's already pulling down his shorts.
your eyebrows scrunch, "what are you doing?" although your brain is still foggy from your intense finish, you still have some awareness.
his shorts drop to his knees along with his boxers, and you're left wide-eyed. he's huge. and you mean huge. his thick cock stands up perfectly, reaching all the way to his stomach. his tip is a dark pink color and you swear you see little drips falling from his slit.
yunho sighs a relief at finally being able to free himself, "y/n, i already promised i wouldn't fuck you. we can save that for another time."
another time? if even possible, your eyes open wider. what does he mean another ti—
"but, fuck, i really need to do this," his hand comes up to aimlessly stroke away at his cock, his pelvis grinding slowly into his palm, "i won't stick it in, i promise. just need to feel your sweet cunt on me again. i feel so close."
your breath hitches. is he suggesting what you think he's suggesting?
"you...wanna...?"
"is that okay?" he asks quietly, his hand squeezing harder around his base.
you knew how dangerous of a request this is. even if he wasn't going to insert it, you knew lust can make people do anything. but then, why does the thought sound so good?
"i'm already sensitive..." you try, barely. you can already imagine what it must feel like, and the thought gets you horny all over again.
"i'll be quick, i promise," he says firmly, already lowering his body to be close to yours, "i can already feel my cum about to shoot out. just want something to stimulate it."
his face stops right in front of yours as you feel his tip just barely graze your cunt. you hold back another moan.
"i can do it?" he asks once more, this time looking into your eyes. you stare back at his large, brown gaze, and instinctively, you whimper out a 'yes'.
he's quick to grab his cock, now positioning it to where his shaft lays beautifully along the crevice of your pussy. earlier it had just felt so good, he knew he needed to do it again.
your pussy wraps around his skin, enveloping his warm cock. yunho's already buzzing with tingles that travel up around his body. and then, he begins moving.
he rocks his erection between your lips, starting off ever so leisurely. he's getting a feel of your bare cunt running up and down him. you bite your lip to hold back a scream. you're too overstimulated for this, him rubbing his cock against you in this way. your eyelids flutter as your breathing turns ragged.
"oh my—fuck, y/n. i'm gonna cum. shit, your….your cunt's gonna make me me..."
he speeds up his hips, him full on grinding his length into your pussy. holy fuck, did he make the best decision. his mind becomes clouded, his breathing turning hard. as for you, well you've already check out, with just how sensitive you are. and yet somehow, you feel yourself working up to another orgasm.
he digs his hips deeper and deeper, his cock rolling along your clit. his tip would pass by your bud, giving it the perfect stimulation. he's so close. so damn close. he's practically fucking your cunt right now. and you're just taking it so well.
it wasn't until his final buck, in which a creamy, white load comes foaming out from the top. it lands directly at the bottom of your stomach, but then starts to seep down to your precious slit. feeling the viscous liquid, a smaller, less dramatic orgasm takes over you—yet it still had you quaking.
your pussy begins squeezing and pulsating yet again, which just milks yunho's fat cock even more. the two of you moan simultaneously, you both shaking and twitching against one another.
and that's how this night ends.
what once started out as your terrible attempt at the perfect orgasm, ends with you actually achieving it—twice. on top of that, it was all done thanks to your stupid, idiot neighbor, who's currently passed out next to you.
finally. after this long, eventful night, are you able to sleep peacefully, even with jeong yunho curled up right beside you.
- Bonus -
it's been 2 weeks since that night with yunho and you have absolutely no idea where two's current relationship stands. through it all, he'll always be your idiotic, annoying neighbor—the one who keeps you up late at night.
except for now, he's been keeping you up late for a different reason.
*
*
*
*
jeong yunho
11:13 PM
y/nnnnn, can you come over right now?
i need help :(
you grimace at the texts sent, you dropping down your pencil to focus on them. you're currently sitting at your desk, trying to prepare for an exam you have coming up.
y/n
11:14 PM
but you just texted me this morning???
how could you possibly need help again??
what the hell? he's never texted you twice in one day about this.
jeong yunho
11:14 PM
ugh, i know and normally i don't even get hard again after i cum
but god, i literally couldn't stop thinking about the way your mouth felt around me this morning
started daydreaming about it and got a boner LOL
"aww, yunho!" moaning, you silently curse his idiotic brain, head drooping. this isn't the first he's asked you to take care of a problem caused by his stupid thoughts. you've already told him to learn how to control them!
and unfortunately, you're not available for him.
y/n
11:16 PM
oh my god
sorry but i can't right now, studying for a test
jeong yunho
11:16 PM
oh boooooo
you're a smart girl, i know you'll ace it
y/n
11:17 PM
wanna know how i get this smart? by studying
jeong yunho
11:18 PM
but y/n it's so painful
my cock's throbbing for you
look
sent image
reluctantly, you open the picture. it's of his erection protruding through his grey sweatpants. you can tell he doesn't have any underwear on from how large he looks in the photo, and also by the fact there's small specks of dark grey splattered near the top. his pre-cum.
shit. you really should not have opened this.
jeong yunho
11:19 PM
need you so bad
please, help me
you bring your bottom lip inwards to chew on it. you really need to study, and you know this. but, fuck, he looks so good right now. the noises—the whimpering—he made for you earlier this morning resurface to your head, and now you're even more conflicted.
another text from yunho comes through.
jeong yunho
11:22 PM
it'll be the neighborly thing to do ☹️
oh, please. your eyes roll at that. he's been throwing this phrase around about a week after you two started fooling around with each other.
ugh, what an idiot.
y/n
11:23 PM
you know what? fine, here i come
truthfully, you were convinced since the beginning, you just wanted to see how far he would go. you shoot up from your desk and grab your phone, feeling your core already tingle at what's to come.
you begin to make your way out of your bedroom when another buzz comes through.
Summary: every single time you think a makeout session is leading to sex, Mingi pulls back. you know it's not you, so what is it? your boyfriend just has a little secret he's embarrassed to share...
Warnings: sexual content, oral, cursing, the works
Word Count: 6k+
A/N: them saying it's all a persona in their show gave me this idea thanks everyone cheers
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There was something truly amusing about watching your boyfriend run off stage and almost immediately switch personas. On stage he was grinding, grabbing, biting, smirking, winking, acting like Aphrodite herself crafted him. Maybe she had crafted Ateez’s Mingi.
But off stage, the boy could barely get into a makeout session without suddenly blushing a deep crimson and hauling you off his lap. God forbid you realize you made the poor man hard.
The first time Mingi had pulled you into a real makeout session - not just a session where he kissed you a few times, maybe pulled you closer, and then inevitably let you go - you had thought maybe you were dreaming. He had pulled you closer, bodies flush to one another, his hands low on your back. You had your arms laced around his neck, lips moving together. His lips were warm, plump, slightly wet from the exchange of saliva between the two of you. He nearly moaned into your mouth when you tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head to the side to angle the kiss. His hands had pulled you closer, one of his thighs unconsciously slipping between your legs.
His tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him, but he pulled back, all brazenness gone from his body. You weren’t going to let it go, too worked up to find yourself able to release him, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth roughly. He groaned, tilting you back and tangling his tongue with yours.
And just when you thought it would go further, maybe a little under-the-clothes action, he had pulled away, ears red, eyes not quite finding yours, and hands now respectfully placed higher on your waist.
He had said something about being tired, lots of practice and everything, and you weren’t going to push it.
That was common with Mingi, the heavy moments suddenly ending despite how he was obviously into it. You wondered, briefly, if he wasn’t sexually attracted to you, but with the way he got hard with even a little bit of kissing these days or a suggestive comment whispered in his ear, that couldn’t be it.
Which brought you to your current conclusion: Mingi was a virgin.
Cute.
You watched from a backstage monitor as he got fans barking for him in the crowd, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he egged them on. He looked sinful, sunglasses pushed down his nose, mouth caught between his sharp teeth lightly. His jacket had fallen off his shoulder and his shoulder muscles were shiny with sweat. His tanktop was leaving little to the imagination, chest heaving after a performance.
You found yourself imagining what it would look like with his chest heaving as he laid over you, hips snapping forward, grown-out hair falling into his eyes. You could imagine his biceps flexing, the puffs of air.
You had to blink hard as the camera switched to Yeosang, looking around a little guiltily like maybe somebody could read your mind and had seen… all of that. Smoothing a hand over your hair, you focused back on the concert, grateful that the staff had even let you backstage to begin with. It was a privilege, the black shirt on your back that also said “Staff,” and you weren’t going to ruin it by being weird about your boyfriend in public instead of enjoying the concert he had worked hard to get you access to.
It was a good concert, always filled with incredible showmanship, and you felt pride swelling in your chest. They had worked hard. You remembered the nights Mingi had called you, voice slurring from fatigue, to tell you goodnight and that he loved you and he was sorry he had been busy all day. Tour stuff, baby, he’d always said.
It was late when you finally left the concert venue with some of the other staff members. You’d pitched in, rolling up cables and helping sweep up about a ton of confetti after the concert. A little known fact, you’d realized, was that confetti was hard as fuck to sweep up. It flew out of piles when pushed with too much effort, got heavy when it built up, and stuck to everything. You may not have spent hundreds of dollars on a seat, but you felt maybe this made up about a quarter of that price. Your body ached by the end of it.
You texted Mingi that you were on your way and he sent back a picture of him, freshly showered and hair still damp at the ends, lounging in - that little shit - your hotel room. You’d given him the extra keycard and it looked like he was taking full advantage of that, messing up your freshly-made bed before you could.
You saved the photo and sent him a classy picture of your middle finger back. All you got back was a winky-face.
Dick.
He was still waiting for you in his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, watching a Myth Buster’s rerun on the T.V. when you keyed into your room. He slid off the bed and, yeah.
Dick.
The grey sweatpants were doing him favors. They hung low on his hips, the outline of his member pretty obvious in the thin material. The ties hanging down from his waistband were practically pointing for your eyes to look down, drawing them to the print.
You swallowed hard, your mind focusing on the earlier fantasies from the concert. But Mingi looked just happy to see you, his smile wide and his eyes bright.
He grabbed you around the waist and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He breathed in deeply and you hugged him back just as tightly, feeling the way his back muscles rippled as he adjusted his grip. You ran your hands over them lightly, then down his arms, pushing your hands under his t-shirt sleeves slightly to feel the warmth of his skin, how soft it was. You sighed, swaying lightly.
“Are you tired?” you whispered.
Mingi nodded into your neck, burying even more deeply into the crook. He rubbed his hands down your back then placed a kiss to your shoulder. You smiled, pulling your hands out of his shirt to pet his head lightly.
“Let me shower, then we can go to sleep, hmm?”
Reluctantly, he unwound his arms as you gathered up your pajamas and underwear to go shower. You saw Mingi peeking at the ensemble, his neck rosy as he saw the tiny panties you were wearing to bed.
You had packed them in the event that something happened, but figured you may need to give it a little push. They were going to be hell to sleep in, but maybe it was worth it by the way Mingi’s eyes got a little glassier by the second, his ears a little redder, and his dick… a little harder. You weren't going to ask him outright for sex after such a grueling performance on stage, but you wanted to let him know you were interested.
You let out a breathy laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He swallowed hard, turning to catch your cheek with a kiss as you turned to disappear into the bathroom.
Hot shower burning your skin slightly, you really tried to get thoughts of fucking Mingi out of your mind. He was tired, and despite the fact that he was obviously turned on, maybe tonight wasn’t the night to push it.
He seemed to have other plans when you stepped out of the bathroom, throwing your clothes on your suitcase unceremoniously to pack away tomorrow. His hands were suddenly on you, slipping below the waist to cup your ass. His hands kneaded your ass roughly, his lips attached to yours and bit. You gasped into the kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth.
You adjusted to slip his leg between your thighs, your underwear soaked. You wondered, vaguely, if you would leave a wet spot on his sweatpants.
Then, he did something that had you moaning breathlessly, your neck and back arching.
His lips trailed down the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed. He reached up to pull your shirt to the side, his kisses trailing down to your shoulder, and then he bit down, hard, and sucked a deep purple hickie onto your shoulder.
The sensation made your skin buzz, and you clawed at his back, your hips pushing forward to grind against Mingi’s thigh. Your thigh brushed his length, and he groaned deeply against your shoulder where he was leaving a smattering of hickies.
The sensation seemed like it brought him back to your hotel room, and he was moving away swiftly, his eyes wide, his hair a mess, and his chest heaving.
“What?” you breathed, your lips slightly tingling and swollen from kissing him so roughly. You were breathingly heavily, too, your clit was throbbing, and you wanted Mingi pressed back against you in the next few seconds.
“I, uh, I’m gonna brush my teeth so we can go to bed,” he said.
Then, he kissed your cheek lightly like he hadn’t just branded you as his, and he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. You groaned, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed, and gripped your hair tightly to bring yourself back.
For once, you really hated staying in the fancy hotel. It didn’t even have a detachable shower head.
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Mingi was about to do something really, really embarrassing and probably a little traumatic. He was going to ask someone to have the sex talk with him. Not the one parents have about condoms and abstinence, the one about how to actually have sex and pleasure someone.
And he kind of wanted to bash his head into the wall.
The world tour was over, they finally had some time off to relax, and he still hadn’t mustered up the courage to have sex with you. He’d gotten close on tour, the adrenaline from the concert still fueling him as he kissed you, left marks on you, and then ditched you to cool down in the bathroom. He had stood there, the tile cool against his feet, and stared at himself in the mirror feeling a little pathetic.
The truth was, he was terrified that he would do something so egregious during sex that you would break up with him. He’d never had sex before, had only seen porn in passing when his friends had showed it to him when he was younger, and he really didn’t even know where to begin.
He had tried to watch porn for ideas once he started dating you, but even with his headphones on and the brightness all the way down, it just felt wrong. He had gotten one whole minute into a video before he turned it off, stomach clenching not with arousal but with discomfort.
He’d read, and this he wasn’t super proud of, fanfiction, too, but it just didn’t feel right. He wasn’t really some sex god in real life, throwing women’s legs over his shoulder and dragging their underwear off with his teeth. He wasn’t grabbing boobs from behind as he pounded his dick into dripping pussies.
He felt a little pathetic and even more scared after reading that, his own inexperience crowding into the forefront of his mind. His own sex-ed in school had been abysmal, mainly telling them that they shouldn’t really be in the same room as girls, and he had learned only recently about the world of different condoms. (He had closed the Coupang tab very quickly.)
So there he was, standing in front of Yunho’s closed bedroom door, wanting to strangle himself with his hoodie strings. His second choice had been Hongjoong, that man definitely knew how to fuck, but the thought of listening to Hongjoong talk about sex made him positive he could never look the man in the eye again. With Yunho, this probably wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he asked him, and it definitely wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’d experienced together.
He finally brought his closed fist up to knock, the knock timid.
It took a minute, but Yunho answered, his hair smushed down on the side he’d been laying on. He had probably been watching videos when Mingi interrupted.
“Hey,” Yunho said slowly. “What’s up, man?”
Mingi blinked, the words he had carefully planned shrivelling up and dying in his throat. He scratched his arm awkwardly.
“Can I come in?” he asked instead, the thought of even asking Yunho to talk him through sex in the open so humiliating he wanted to throw up.
Yunho seemed to sense something, his eyes filling with concern as he opened up the door wider for Mingi to slide by him to enter.
Mingi sat down hard on Yunho’s desk chair, rolling back and forth absentmindedly as he tried to bring back the courage to ask his friend for advice. He didn’t need dirty details, just a rough outline. Yunho sat on his bed and stared at him, giving him space to think.
He was grateful to have Yunho in his life, to get to share the fame with him and the quiet moments, too. He knew Yunho would maybe - probably - rib him about the sex thing, but he would also try and help him earnestly.
“How do you have sex?”
It came out with no finesse, his voice scratchy and deep. He stared anywhere but at Yunho’s shocked expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he willed his body to stay seated in the desk chair.
Yunho, to his credit, tried to keep his face mostly blank after the initial shock wore off. He cleared his throat, shifted, cleared his throat again, said, “ah,” then shifted again. The rustling of his sheet was the only sound in the room, the only sound in the dorm, even.
“Just basics,” Mingi clarified, looking down, voice coming out no louder than a mumble.
“Well, the penis goes in the vagina, then it goes in and out, in and out-” Yunho started.
“Okay I’m leaving,” Mingi said quickly, standing up and sending the desk chair flying backwards into the wall as Yunho finally broke and began laughing, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. He reached out and grabbed Mingi’s wrist as he passed and pulled him back.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, gasping. “I’ll be serious now. I think it’s nice you trust me enough to ask me. I just had to, okay? Now I’ll be serious.”
Mingi glared down at Yunho’s hand, but he moved backward and slid back into the desk chair, swiveling side to side and Yunho sat up straight and leaned back against the wall, his eyes focused on Mingi. He waited a beat before speaking again.
“What do you want to know, exactly?”
Mingi shrugged. “I know, like, how it works I guess. I know about, um, foreplay and the… penetration.” He choked. His cheeks burned.
Yunho hummed. “What are you worried about then?”
“I know about them, but I have no fucking clue how to even do any of it. What if I hurt Y/N or it’s so bad she breaks up with me? I’m serious, Yunho, it’s scary.”
The room was quiet again, not even the sounds of rustling breaking the silence. Mingi picked at his cuticle then stopped, thinking about the hell he’d get from the stylists for doing that. Instead, he focused on the sound of his breathing.
“Well, sex shouldn’t be scary. And I don’t think Y/N would break up with you if it’s bad. Have you told her you’ve never had sex before?”
Silence.
“Dude,” Yunho deadpanned. “Come on.”
“It’s embarrassing!” Mingi whined. “Especially because I’m pretty sure she’s had sex before, and that means I have to be the best at it!”
He was pouting now, staring up at the door to Yunho’s bedroom and willing it to explore inward, killing him instantly.
“So you hate your girlfriend is what I’m hearing.”
Mingi’s head snapped toward Yunho at that comment, his eyes wide.
“What the fuck, man. I love her. You know that.”
“And yet you’re not telling her these fears,” Yunho countered, sitting up and staring at Mingi harshly. “You don’t need me to tell you how to have sex with your girlfriend who obviously loves you. You need to suck it up and tell you girlfriend that you’ve never had sex, you’re not sure what you’re doing, but you’re willing to learn. Then, you fucking learn, you dumbass. That’s how you get to be the best.”
Yunho leaned back again, his face smoothing out to something contemplative.
“Actually,” he said, “you have the advantage here. She teaches you what she likes, you do that, you’re doing everything she likes, you’re the best. Then you keep having sex forever, congrats.”
Mingi cleared his throat as the words hit his brain. Yunho was right, sarcasm aside. This could only really be positive for him, learning what you liked and putting it into play so you never had a bad sexual experience with him - or anyone else ever again because he wanted to be your last and final boyfriend. He bit his lip at the thought, fighting a grin.
“You do know you need condoms though, right?” Yunho said, shattering the moment. “STDs and babies are no joke man.”
Mingi flipped him off as he stood up, but he was smiling.
“I’m built different, I’ll be fine,” he joked, face impassive as he walked out of Yunho’s room.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not!” Yunho cried after him, and Mingi finally let out a laugh as he closed the bedroom door behind him.
He had a plan now, one that became fully formulated after he finally bought condoms online - ribbed for her pleasure - and he felt good. He was going to have sex with you and it was going to be the best sex of your life. Obviously it would also be the best of his life, but that was besides the point.
────────────────────────
Step One: spend the night at your house and begin the “wine” portion of “wining and dining”.
He had picked up dinner from your favorite place on his way over, the food still hot as he knocked on your door.
You answered and he couldn’t help but bully his way in and kick the door closed to engulf you in a hug. You were warm in his arms, fitting into his chest perfectly. Your laugh rumbled against his chest and he breathed in your scent.
“Delivery,” he said, pulling back to smile at you and wave the food in front of your face teasingly.
“I hope the delivery man stays. He’s pretty cute,” you joked, swiftly kissing his lips before stepping back to let him fully inside the apartment.
He slid off his shoes and stepped in, setting the food on the counter and shooing you to go sit so he could serve dinner. He pulled out the wine he’d gotten - something fruity he knew you’d like - and brought over the wine glasses and food, balancing it all carefully on his forearm.
“Date night,” he said softly, sliding to sit beside you and holding up his glass for a toast. You giggled at his silliness before clinking your glass with his. The bright sound lit up the room a little bit more, and you smiled after taking the first sip. Paired with the food, that man had an agenda, you just couldn’t figure it out yet.
Dinner was perfect, it usually was with Mingi unless he was trying to cook something. One time he had tried to help you make dinner by chopping the vegetables and he massacred the carrots so badly you’d quietly thrown away the mushy mess and said you had just needed him to prep them for a different meal.
It was when the two of you were doing dishes that Mingi finally brought sex up.
Step Two: spill the beans.
“It’s not that I don’t find you sexy, I obviously do,” he mumbled to your wine glasses suddenly. “I just… haven’t had sex before. And it’s a little embarrassing. But I want to, have sex that is. With you. Obviously.”
You had stilled where you were drying a plate, your eyes glued to your boyfriend’s sharp side profile. He kept washing the same glass over and over, like he was trying to wash the glass clean away. He kept scrubbing diligently, his eyes never leaving the suds.
“Okay,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You cleared your throat. “Okay.” It came out stronger that time.
You grabbed your boyfriend’s forearm to stop him. He tensed, finally stopped washing the glass, and glanced at you. You smiled at him, drawing lazy circles on his arm with your thumb. His skin was soft. His cheeks were pink.
“You’ll teach me?” he asked quietly, his eyes meeting yours. They were dark, deep, flickering with something you had seen before. It was more intense this time, the desire.
“Of course,” you whispered.
His wet, soapy hands were on your waist in an instant, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. You didn’t care about your clothes getting wet, just that your lips were on his, bruising and wet. Mingi groaned into your mouth and his hands were on your ass, reminding you of your hotel stay. Your spine tingled at the thought, and you pulled yourself closer to Mingi’s body by grabbing his hair and yanking. He groaned.
“Fuck, baby. You’re going to kill me before we can do anything.”
Unknown to you, Step Three of Mingi’s plan was to not come right away.
You raked your fingers through his hair and started moving back, heading toward the bedroom. Mingi let you lead him blindly, panting against your mouth as he kissed you, his hands sliding up and off your ass and under your shirt. His fingers grazed your skin lightly and somehow that was sexier than his grip on your ass had been. Your skin burned where he touched you and you unlatched your lips from his to kiss down his neck.
“I won’t mark you,” you whispered by his ear, biting his earlobe lightly. He whimpered slightly, tilting his head to let you have better access to his neck.
“You can,” he said, panting. “Just has to be below the shirt, okay? I want you to mark me. Please, baby.”
You clenched your thighs at the demand, your pussy so wet it was making your underwear stick to you. It was uncomfortable but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, kissing your boyfriend’s neck while his hands wandered to your stomach lightly, then up.
He stopped just shy of your breasts, his hands stilling against your ribs. They were so broad they took up most of the space on your torso, rough and warm. You leaned into his hands, but he remained still.
He wasn’t really sure where to go from there. He wanted to touch your breasts, obviously, wanted to slip his hands underneath your bra and feel the soft skin, the warm nipples, make them harden under his fingers. Maybe even leave marks on the swell of your breasts to admire later, right over your heart.
But he was nervous now. It was further than he’d ever been with you and his mind had come back online and stopped his body. Well, it had stopped his hands from moving and his mouth from forming any words, but it didn’t stop his length from hardening further. Trapped against your bodies, he knew you could feel it, especially when you pushed yourself closer to him, ground down hard against him.
At his sudden stillness, you pulled back and removed your hands. He looked wide eyed, his mouth starting to form what was probably “sorry” before you grabbed his hands and placed them squarely on your boobs. He let out an undignified squeak, but his hands began kneading the soft flesh. You let go of his hands and reached around to unhook your bra, letting it go loose. You wanted to take your shirt off, the feeling of your bra and his hands stretching it out making it uncomfortable, but you worried it would send Mingi into a panic. So you let him knead your breasts, his fingers swiping over your nipples before he began kissing down your neck.
You’d had sex before with men who had done similar things, but with Mingi it was different. Maybe it was because you loved him or maybe it was because he was so earnest and eager to please. But he was also lost in his own pleasure, his nerves falling away to be replaced by lust. When he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes were dark, hooded, his mouth swollen and even plumper. He looked sinful, his hair falling into his eyes as he pulled his hands back, reached around to the back of his own shirt, and pulled it off in one swift movement.
You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes roaming over his torso. You’d seen him shirtless before, but in this context you looked at him with reverence. He was beautiful, toned, skin golden. You ran your hand down his chest, his stomach, stopping at his pants to dip a finger just below his waistband. He bucked his hips unconsciously into the touch. You were pleased to see that even his chest turned pink when he was embarrassed.
He preened slightly under your touch before pulling back, shoulders drawing in slightly. You took it as a sign to strip with him, make him more comfortable.
Grabbing your shirt by the hem, you pulled it over your head swiftly, your bra catching and lifting to show under your breast. Mingi sucked in a breath, his hips stuttering as he looked at you. His eyes mapped the expanse of your torso, and as you slid your bra off your shoulders slowly you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed roughly. His eyes were hooded, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
You didn’t have to grab his hands this time. He leaned in, massaging one breast lightly while sucking dark marks into the other. You moaned at the sensation, pushing forward into his mouth. You tested the waters, your hand sliding down the front of his pants to cup his hard length, and he bucked into your hand.
He switched to your other breast, marking a trail across your chest that would last for the days to come. It went straight south, making you throb, your thighs rubbing. Your hand rubbed up the front of his length, his breath hitching, before he pulled your hand to the button on his pants. You thumbed it, undid it quickly, and then let Mingi take the lead to take his pants off.
He slid them off without fanfare, gripping yours and pulling them off quickly. Too quickly. Your panties slid down with them, leaving you bare. Mingi sucked in a breath.
“Oh shit, sorry. Sorry. Wait let me-” Then he was pulling his own underwear off, stepping out of it.
Left bare in the warm light coming from a small lamp on your bedside table, you stared at your boyfriend unabashedly. He was strong, lean, and so, so handsome. His cheekbones stood out in the lighting, and you couldn’t help but reach up and graze them tenderly with your fingertips. He leaned into your touch, grabbing your wrist before you could fully pull away to kiss your fingertips.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered.
“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, drawing closer to press your body against his. He shivered. His hands held your waist tightly. “You are so perfect.”
“I was hoping for sexy,” he whispered, then bent down to nip at your neck lightly.
“Don’t push it,” you joked back, leaning down to leave a love bite on his peck, right by where his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He hissed at the sensation.
“Co-condom,” he murmured, and you nodded. You had a stash in your bedside table for just this moment, and you moved to get them before he stopped you lightly, gripping your arm. He bent down and dug around to find his wallet.
Then, he pulled out the purple wrapped condom. Ribbed for her pleasure. Ah, he’d done some research.
You pushed him in the chest lightly and he sat down hard on the bed, scooting back slightly to allow you to climb onto his lap. He handed you the condom, letting you roll it down his length. You pumped it a few times to make sure it was on.
Satisfied, you straddled him. His eyes dropped to your breasts then further down, hands coming up to grip your hips. Fully naked, your pussy wet and dripping, you ground hard against his cock. Mingi groaned, his hands gripping and guiding your hips. You held onto his shoulders and let him pick the pace.
Just to tease him, you let his tip slip inside of you as you drug your hips back down. The stuttering breath it pulled from him was enough to make you grin, and you buried your face in his neck as you did it again, the slow drag of your hips, the quick catch of his tip, all making him groan into your ear.
“You have to tell me what you want, okay?” you whispered.
You had had ample time in this relationship to consider what you wanted to do the first time the two of you had sex. You wanted to blow him, to feel him try and refrain from bucking his hips up, to try and stop himself from choking you. You wanted him to guide your head lightly, sinful words about how well you were taking him in your mouth falling from his lips.
You had a strong suspicion that if you blew him tonight he would cum in a matter of seconds and you really wanted him inside of you.
Thankfully, Mingi seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“I want to be inside of you, baby, to stretch, ah, to stretch you out.”
And he would. He was thick, just the tip making you feel a light stretch.
The next time you ground your hips down, you let more of his length dip into your pussy. Slowly, you lowered yourself down, legs shaking slightly, bobbing lightly to let yourself adjust before sinking to completely engulf his length. He let out a strangled moan, diving forward to kiss you hard and wet.
You lifted up and dropped down on him, the curve of his length hitting just the right spot inside of you that you were both moaning at the sensation.
Riding Mingi was something else you had imagined, but the real thing was so much better. The heat of his dick, the slight squelch of your wetness encompassing him, the way he groaned underneath you and his abs tensed at every movement, the way he dropped his head to leave more marks across your breasts, the sensation of his dick hitting your G-spot constantly. It was all so delicious. You leaned back, letting his dick repeatedly hit that perfect spot, your head falling back. His hips snapped up into you each time, the sensation jolting you.
Suddenly, Mingi was pushing your hips down hard, stilling your movements. You clenched your pussy around him, and he whimpered.
“Fuck, fuck, stop. I don’t want to cum yet,” he mumbled into your neck.
You nodded, running a hand through his hair and pushing his bangs off his face. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“I want,” he started, then stopped. His eyes were dark, hooded again, and his entire body was flushed.
“You can say it,” you murmured.
“I want to fuck you from behind.”
He said it resolutely. Then, the second he saw you nod okay, he was pulling you off and flipping you over. You let out an undignified yelp at the movement. You knew Mingi was strong but holy fuck.
Barely getting your hands underneath you, you arched your back as he pushed into you from behind. His hips snapped forward and, oh, fuck.
“Fuck, Mingi,” you whined.
“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he groaned from behind you, his hips picking up the pace and finding a steady rhythm. “I might… I might not…”
“It’s okay.”
His grip on your hips was bruising, a hand gripping your ass leaving red marks across the cheek. Your legs and arms were shaking, your pussy clenching around his length. He pulled your hips up, angled down, and you were seeing stars. You could feel the beginnings of an orgasm pooling low in your stomach, the way your pussy dripped more, the heat that spread. You wanted to cum, the ribs of the condom stimulating you.
Mingi came first, his hips stuttering and a string of expletives leaving his plump lips. He stilled inside of you, falling over to rest his chest on your back. He was panting, his damp hair tickling your shoulder blades.
“How do I make you cum, baby? Tell me how to do that?” he grunted, pulling out of you. You whined at the loss of contact. It really felt like he was edging you, and you were impatient.
“Get between my legs and make me cum with your mouth,” you commanded, your brain fuzzy with the need to cum. You rolled onto your back and gave him a pointed look.
He shivered, pulling the condom off and tying it. He looked around frantically before spotting your trash can, throwing it away before pushing you onto your back and practically diving between your legs.
Soft kisses on your thighs had your legs spreading, and the sharp nips that came after them had your legs clenching around his head. He grinned up at you from his spot between your legs, but he looked nervous.
You ran a hand through his hair softly before gripping the hair at his crown.
“It’s all about the licking and sucking. Your fingers… I want them inside of me too.”
Mingi nodded, drinking in your words. Then his tongue was put to good use, licking a stripe up your pussy before teasing at your entrance. The slick heat made you moan and tug his hair, and he dipped his tongue inside of you, curling up and flicking it.
The sounds you made egged him on. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but he figured if you weren’t saying “ow” or “stop that’s awful” he was doing okay. He kept his eyes on you, on the way your head was thrown back and your breasts heaved as he ate you out like a man starving.
He replaced his tongue with two fingers, lightly twisting them to see your reaction. There seemed to be a spot he should hit, and he wiggled his fingers forward until he found it. God, his fingers were perfect, thick yet graceful as they pumped inside of you. His mouth attached to your clit and sucked, lightly at first then harshly. Your back arched off the bed.
“Fuck, who taught you that? I thought you said-” you were cut off by him humming against your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core. “Don’t stop.”
He looked beautiful between your legs, strong back visible, muscles shifting as he fingered you. His eyes never left yours, sharp and watchful. He was going to make this good, he was making this good, you wanted more of him always. You couldn’t imagine not jumping his bones the next time you saw him with how good it felt, but you would find a way to restrain.
The warmth in your stomach grew, your pussy throbbed, and then everything was warm. You tensed around his fingers, bucking forward into his mouth as you came. You could barely even let out a moan with how intense the sensation was. Stars danced in front of your eyes and your entire body coiled then uncoiled. You pulled Mingi off of you and he looked at you, triumphant and smirking.
“Fuck, come here,” you whispered, and he climbed up to kiss you, wiping his mouth on the way up. It was a soft kiss, full of reassurance and love.
“I love you, Y/N,” he said once you parted.
“I love you, too, Mingi. So much.”
He grinned, then the crook of his transformed into a shit-eating smirk. “So… how was it?”
He already knew the answer. You huffed, turning away slightly.
“It was fine,” you lied, and he knew you were lying. “Would be better if we showered together now.”
You side-eyed him.
Not even a minute later he was with you in the shower, begging you to wash his back with your nice loofah and soap.
────────────────────────
“So…” Yunho said it casually, like he was about to ask about the weather or Mingi’s thoughts on having lunch together. “You did okay?”
Yeosang looked between the two of them, his eyes following the flush on Mingi’s neck and the way Yunho was covering his smile with his glass of water.
Mingi cleared his throat and looked away.
“Yeah, it was good. Great. Went well.”
Yeosang eyed him as Yunho snorted, eyebrow raising. The lightbulb clicked suddenly, Yeosang’s eyes widening as he looked between the two of them.
“A threesome? Really?” he gasped, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you’d be one to share.”
Mingi let out a strangled sound while Yunho choked on his water, pounding his chest as he coughed violently.
“NO!” Mingi spluttered. “No, oh my- how?”
“He’s not a virgin anymore,” Yunho croaked, rubbing his chest like he could massage the rest of the water out of his lungs.
Yeosang nodded knowingly, his mouth curling up at the corner. “I know. Just wanted to hear you admit you were a virgin. Wooyoung owes me.”
Mingi’s mouth dropped open and Yuho stared at him, gaze piercing.
“There was a bet?”
“Why wasn’t I let it on this?”
Both boys started speaking at the same time.
“No way, you knew he was a virgin already,” Yeosang said dryly. “And yeah, I had 20,000 won on the table.”
“Sellout,” Yunho mumbled, turning to head back to the couch and finish the movie the group had all been watching together.
“20,000… that’s all my sex life is worth to you?” Mingi mumbled, turning to follow Yeosang into the room. The other boy just shrugged. “What can that even buy?”
“Post-sex chicken,” Yeosang whispered, settling back into his spot.
Mingi stood, dumbfounded, until Seonghwa gently tugged his arm to make him sit back down. He barely even watched the movie. His mind was too focused on ways he could make himself spontaneously combust.
💿now playing: when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter
❯ summary: Your best friend’s kid brother is getting married—and his best man just so happens to be ridiculously sexy. Wait. Hold on. Is that Zhong Chenle? When the hell did he get hot?
❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader
❯ genre: pure filth tbh, smut, childhood friends
❯ words: 7.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, cocky!chenle, submissive!reader, older!reader, lots of wedding references, filthy mouth chenle, spanking, marking, biting, a lot of possessiveness, oral sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampies, rough sex, degradation/humiliation kink, basically just chenle putting you in your place for not realising he’s a top shagger
“I cannot believe my little brother got married before me,” Karina announces, balancing the flask she smuggled into the wedding reception on the sink before tucking it neatly back into her bra. “Before both of us, actually.”
You watch as she throws back the freshly mixed Vodka and Coke in one gulp. Not exactly the most hygienic thing, given you’re both hiding in the bathroom like fugitives from her mother trying to avoid the bouquet toss.
A little sloshes down her chin, slides onto her chest, and vanishes between the satin folds of her bridesmaid dress. Christ.
“Oh yeah, totally. I have no idea how Jeno managed to beat us both to the altar.” Another drip of brown liquid traces her neckline. You sigh. “No idea at all.”
“Shut it,” Karina hisses at your sarcasm. She grabs a tissue and blots herself. First her face, then her cleavage. “Don’t look at me like that. Mummy dearest wouldn’t let Jeno have an open bar because she sees this as a prospect convention for me. No alcohol, no fun, no scaring off potential suitors. I have to do what I have to do.”
That sets you off laughing. It’s exactly the kind of thing her mother would say.
Karina throws her head back, cackling along with you. “It’s not funny, Y/N! She thinks this is eighteenth-century England. She swears I’m going to be sent off to a spinster’s asylum if I don’t land someone tonight. And now—” She gestures violently with the tissue. “Now that my fuckass brother’s tied the knot, she’s become a full-blown monster.”
“Give her a break, Rina.” You peer toward the mirror with a smile, dragging your finger along your bottom lip to blend your gloss. “I think she thinks she’s helping. You used to dream about your wedding day when we were kids. It was your favourite game.”
“That was before I discovered men are sloppy. Awful life partners, and need babysitting ninety per cent of the time.”
You snort, watching her adjust her hair, then frown at herself in the mirror like even her reflection has managed to let her down. For a moment, you think she’s going to start ranting about her mother again, but instead—
“You know,” she says, pausing just long enough to hook your attention. “I always figured you’d get married first.”
Oh, not this again. Everyone figured you’d be the first to get married. You’ve heard the speeches before—the what happened with you and Mark? spiels, the pitiful head tilts, the sympathetic smiles. There’s nothing worse than going from the couple—high school sweethearts, city apartment, golden promise ring—to single in your adulthood with a pathetic love and sex life.
“Don’t start,” you groan.
“I’m serious. You were always the one in steady re—”
“If you mention any of my failed relationships right now, I will seriously revoke your best friend card.”
“Fine, fine,” Karina chirps, swatting her hand. “I’m just saying, Jeno’s got a lot of friends and a big party of single groomsmen.”
“You date one of them then,” you retort. “In fact, why don’t we find your mother and talk about setting you up—”
“Not fucking funny,” Karina sneers. “You didn’t see her trying to meddle in the ceremony. In the fucking chapel, mind you. I won’t have you planting any ideas during the celebration.”
If only you hadn’t been stuck working. You would have loved to watch Karina squirm under her mother’s matchmaking theatrics.
“I just thought since you’re blowing smoke up these guys’ asses, raving about their hotness, maybe you finally wanted to settle down and date one.”
“Date? Settle down? Me?” She scoffs, sharp as a cork popping. “I will be doing no such thing. Fuck? Maybe.”
You shake your head, laughing. “I can’t stand you.”
“Now, now.” She waggles a finger at you. “This is a judgment-free zone. Women should be sexually liberated. Just because you’ve gone months without—”
“Okay!” You slice the word across hers before she can finish. “No talking about dating for you, and no talking about my lack of sex life.”
The bathroom door creaks open before Karina can needle you further.
“Karina.” Giselle, a friend of the bride’s, voice ricochets off the tiles, all flustered breath and flying strands of brown hair as she braces herself against the doorframe. She looks like she’s sprinted through a wind tunnel to get here. “Your mum’s been looking for you.”
Karina doesn’t even twitch. She leans further back against the sink, calm, smug, utterly unbothered by the looming maternal wrath waiting for her on the other side of the door.
“I know,” she drawls, examining her nails.
“No.” Giselle cuts her off, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to stop a migraine. “The best man speech is starting soon. She needs you out there.”
Karina tilts her head, unhurried. “Do I look like a girl who cares about a best man speech? What’s one of Jeno’s little friends going to do, tell childhood stories? Newsflash, I was there for most of them. Y/N too. It’s hardly riveting for us.”
“I couldn’t care less what you think,” Giselle fires back without missing a beat. “But if you don’t show your face right now, your mother will storm this bathroom and drag you out by your hair. And honestly? I don’t want that to ruin my best friend’s day.” She pauses, scanning Karina like a teacher. “Oh—and grab a mint. I know you’ve been drinking in here.”
Karina gasps, clutching her chest in mock horror. “How dare you slander me on my brother’s holy day?”
“Save it for the priest,” Giselle mutters, already yanking the door open.
“I think the priest has heard enough of my sins today, thanks to that sexy co-worker of Jeno’s sitting in the back pew—ow! Did you just punch me?”
“Yes,” Giselle grits. “Can you stop being horny for five minutes?”
Karina sighs dramatically, pushes herself off the sink, and gives her reflection one last disdainful glance. She slips the flask deeper into her bra, tugging at the satin until the outline is no longer visible. “When did weddings get so serious?”
She claps her hands, cutting you off, and points toward the door. “To my mother.”
You roll your eyes, but fall into step behind her anyway, Giselle marching ahead like a prison guard escorting two criminals. Fugitives found.
The reception air hits heavier than the bathroom—perfume, champagne, the clink of glasses and forks against china. Music hums low, elegant, almost stuffy. And there, in the centre of it all, Karina’s mother stands fanning herself with the wedding program, face set and ready for battle.
She spots her daughter, and her cheeks flame red.
Karina mutters out of the corner of her mouth, “Is it too late to do a runner? I’m actually scared of her.”
You pinch her arm, already blotchy from Giselle’s earlier assault. “Smile.”
She pastes one on, bright and fake. “Mother dear—”
“Don’t you Mother Dearest me.” Her mother swats her arm with a clutch bag so forcefully you hear the snap of the clasp.
“Ow—Christ.” Karina jerks back, clutching the offended spot. “Can you people leave my arm alone?”
“Where the hell have you been?” Her mother’s voice drops, eyes honed in. She leans closer to Karina’s mouth, nostrils flaring. “Have you been drinking?”
Karina’s eyes widen, the panic flashing quick. She may be an adult, but nobody, at any age, likes a lecture from their parents. She lunges for distraction. “Hey, Ma—look, Y/N’s finally here.”
Before you can react, she’s shoved you forward like a human shield.
Karina’s mother’s face softens immediately, her whole expression rearranging as if you’ve just solved her problems by existing. She’s always liked you—always treated you like a second daughter. Back then, there wasn’t a single evening after school when you weren’t sprawled somewhere in their house, raiding their pantry or making yourself at home.
She scans you from head to toe, approving of the long fitted dress you’re wearing, then she leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Y/N, sweetie. You look wonderful,” she says warmly. “Such a shame you couldn’t make the ceremony.”
You laugh weakly. “I know. Just… lots of work piling up.”
“Ah, I understand, I understand.” She waves her clutch like she’s brushing the excuse aside. “Must be expensive living in the city now you have to fund that apartment on your own.”
The words hit a little too squarely, but before you can swallow the sting, Karina cuts in. “Mum!”
Her mother blinks, genuinely perplexed. “What? I’m just saying it’s a shame, is all.” Then she turns back to you. “I really thought you and Mark were going to get married.”
The mention of Mark lands like a stone in your gut. Your cheeks heat, embarrassment written all over your skin, even though you bite down hard on a smile. You hate that his name still does that to you—still flips you inside out. Because, yeah, you really thought you and him were going to get married, too.
Karina clocks your discomfort immediately. Best friend instinct. Her throat works as she swallows, sharp eyes flicking from your face to her mother. “Ma—” she interrupts. “Where’s that guy you said was interested in me? Renjun? I think he’s cute.”
Her mother startles, her focus snapping back to her daughter. And Karina doesn’t miss her chance. She slides her arm through her mum’s, looping it to steer her away, tossing you a tight smile over her shoulder as they disappear. It’s a lifeline. And you’re so grateful she’s willing to throw herself under her mother’s microscope to pull you out from under it.
From there, you settle into your assigned chair and engage in polite conversation with one of the bride’s friends—Giselle, from the bathroom—when the telltale clink of glass rings out. The sound rolls across the reception, shushing tables one by one until all that’s left is a scatter of half-drunk laughs and the scrape of a chair leg.
Best man speech.
You remember Karina saying it was one of Jeno’s little friends. He had a whole swarm of them growing up—sticky-fingered boys who cannonballed into the pool while you were trying to tan, or burped the alphabet at breakfast, or begged to come to senior parties.
But then your eyes land on him.
The best man.
And—Christ. There is no fucking way this man was ever one of Jeno’s little friends.
He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored suit, like it was sewn onto him. It had to be sewn onto him, because there’s no universe in which you can buy a simple suit off the rack and get it to fit shoulders like that. His mop of brown hair is perfectly styled in a way you should find respectable—but you don’t. Not at all. Because all you can think about is what it would look like completely messed up—your fingers knotted in it, tugging him down as he settles between your—
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to be standing here celebrating the wedding of my best friend, Jeno, and his beautiful bride…”
The man is talking. His mouth—pouty and full and pink and obscenely pretty—is definitely moving. Words are coming out, you assume, because the crowd laughs in the right places. But you can’t hear him. Not properly.
Because you can’t place that face. And it’s the kind of face you should be able to place. Symmetrical. Striking. Fuck-me perfect.
Your mouth goes desert-dry.
You cough, shifting in your chair, and lean toward Giselle. “Who is that?”
She blinks at you like you’ve grown a second head. Probably because the man just introduced himself—probably because everyone else is listening to his speech while your brain is stuck in the gutter, picturing him with his tie undone and his suit jacket on the floor as you play naked twister back at his place.
Seriously?” Giselle whispers. She purses her lips, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to figure out if you’re joking. “It’s Chenle. Jeno’s best friend. They’ve been inseparable since they were kids. Surely you know Chenle?”
Chenle.
You do know Chenle.
The name rattles in your head, but it doesn’t match the man standing at the mic. Straight spine, broad shoulders, sinful lips and confidence that shouldn’t fit into someone you remember being younger than you. Chenle was the boy with braces and curly hair under backwards caps. Chenle was Jeno’s annoying friend who made passes at you when it was wildly inappropriate and wrestled you for the remote like a feral little brother. Chenle was not… this.
You cough again, a weak little laugh breaking out of you. “Huh. Right. Of course. Chenle.”
But your eyes betray you, glued to him. Because the Chenle you remember never made your pulse skitter in your throat.
This one does, though.
You need a drink.
Clearing your throat, you lean toward Giselle. “I’m just—yeah. I need a minute.”
You slip from the table before she can answer, heels clicking against polished floor as you make a beeline for the bar. The room feels too warm, your cheeks feel too warm. Chenle’s voice is still threading through the air even though you’re doing your best not to listen.
“Dirty martini, please,” you tell the bartender. Expensive, but worth it. You’re willing to pay the price despite cursing the cash bar with Karina not twenty minutes ago.
The bartender sets down the glass. You reach for your wallet—only for a sleek black card to swipe across the reader before you can tap yours.
Your head snaps up, and he’s looking down at you. You watch as Chenle licks his lips and slots the card back into his wallet. Something about the way his eyes never leave your face as he does it sends a wave of heat through your system.
Your chest rises, falls—uneven—because while he’s glued to you, your own gaze betrays you. Decides to track the movement of his hand instead. Long fingers holding nimble plastic. Thick fingers. Fingers you’re almost sure would be enough to—
“Dirty martini, huh?”
Did he just say something?
You didn’t catch it properly. Surely not. But maybe he did. You wouldn’t know, because your eyes drag down him once. Twice. And then again. You can’t help it. It’s that mouth. A little crooked, but devastating.
“That’s a triple take now, Y/N.” His voice comes out gravelly, deep in a way that makes your stomach dip. Nothing like the squeaky-pitched teenager you remember. “I haven’t changed that much, have I?”
You choke down a sip of your drink, buying yourself a second. “Triple take? Don’t flatter yourself. I was just… surprised to see you, is all. How long’s it been now?”
Chenle’s mouth curves slowly, and he shifts his weight, letting his shoulders relax into the conversation. “Couple years at least,” he says. “Think I still had braces.”
“Ah, yes, well, congratulations on your new improvements.” You wave vaguely toward his face, praying the vodka covers the wobble in your voice. “First thing people notice is either eyes or smiles.”
“Improvements, huh?” His tone dips an octave lower.
Heat creeps up your neck. “I—what?” Your eyes widen. “No—I just meant, braces. Lots of pain. Congrats on getting them off?”
He laughs then. At you. And it should be irritating, but it’s not. It’s rich. Throaty and deep. It makes you think about how much you’d like to get throaty and deep with his co–
“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” he says finally, amusement still twitching on his lips. “Although…I didn’t realise I made you this nervous. Teenage me is proud of myself.”
You bristle immediately. “I am not nervous!”
“Mhm.” He hums like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Maybe not nervous. Definitely flustered, though.”
“I am not flustered.”
“Right,” he says, gaze catching yours, pinning you in place without even trying. His face is just that perfect, smug. How have you never seen the vision before? “Must be reading you wrong.”
“Yeah, well,” you suck in a breath, “you always did have a knack for reading me wrong.”
“Hey now.” He shakes his head, mock wounded. “That’s not fair. I was just a kid with a crush on his best friend’s sister’s hot older friend. I never shot my shot seriously because you never took me seriously.”
“Are you kidding me, Chenle?” You scoff, half-amused, half scandalised. The sound of his name on your tongue makes his throat bob—and you curse yourself for noticing. “You used to say you could ‘give me a ride my boyfriend couldn’t’ and tried to perv on me every chance you got.”
He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish but still grinning. “Okay, fine. Not my finest moment—but as well as my teeth, my flirting game’s improved.”
“Uh-huh.” You tip back the last of your martini, unimpressed.
A beat passes, just long enough for the air to shift. Then he speaks again.
“So…where is that boyfriend of yours, anyway?” Your eyes snap to him, blank, and he stiffens. “I mean—the last time I saw your Instagram, you posted a picture of a ring he bought you. I thought you two were engaged, shouldn’t he be he—”
“We broke up.” You throw him a bone, save him from his floundering. “A while ago.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” You wave him off with a flick of your wrist. “I know for a fact you’re not.”
His smile breaks then—wide, cocky, infuriating. “Old habits die hard.”
“Clearly.” You sigh, then oddly feel the need to explain yourself. “We weren’t engaged, either by the way. It was just a promise ring.”
You see it instantly—the way his eyes spark like he’s dying to bite back. Because despite the suit and the smirk and the broad shoulders, he’s still Chenle. Awkward, messy, opinionated, incapable of shutting up and hating your boyfriends. Yeah, old habits do die hard.
“Promise rings are corny,” he shrugs. “Honestly? I think you dodged a bullet.”
A laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it. “You seem to be the only one who thinks so.”
His brows pinch. “How so?”
“Everyone asks me why I let good-natured, sweet Mark Lee go. Everyone thought we were going to get married.”
“I did too,” he admits, no hesitation. Though his jaw tightens when he says it.
“Funnily enough,” you murmur, swirling your empty glass, “you’re the third person to say that to me today. Maybe Karina’s right. Maybe I should just get off with one of Jeno’s groomsmen.”
That wipes the grin right off his face. His head tilts. “Yeah? And which one of them do you think is gonna measure up?”
“W-what?” You blink, pulse skipping. “It was a joke—”
“Didn’t sound like one.” He leans in, close enough that his cologne slides under your skin, heady and clean and far too distracting. God, he even smells hot. “Do yourself a favour—don’t waste your time on any of Jeno’s friends. They wouldn’t give you what you want.”
You force a scoff, hoping he doesn’t notice how your chest rises unevenly. “Big talk. What makes you so sure?”
His smirk resurfaces. “Because they’re all good. Sweet. Exactly like that Mark guy you let go.”
“And that’s not what I want?”
“I know it’s not.” His voice roughens, and then his finger brushes across your cheek, feather-light. The touch sparks through you like a live wire, and you hate how you shiver, how you don’t move away.
Chenle sees it, and his grin darkens. “Because you’ve been ogling me all night. You ordered a dirty martini because you hate how much you’re attracted to me. And now you’re letting me touch you.” He leans just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I know you want me.”
Your cheeks warm, traitorously, right under his finger. Even if he can’t see the blush, he can feel it—feel exactly how your body responds to this new, devastating version of him. But you don’t want to react. You can’t react. You won’t. This is Chenle. Sticky-fingered, obnoxious, younger Chenle.
So you scoff instead. “Please. You’re Jeno’s best friend. My best friend’s little brother’s best friend. I don’t want you.”
“Best friend’s little brother’s best friend?” He repeats it with a grin, laughing at the absurdity. “They’re not real stakes, Y/N. There’s nothing forbidden or off limits about it.” He tilts his head. “Or are you just embarrassed to admit you’re attracted to the same boy you used to reject?”
Your mouth parts. “What are you—”
“Is it an ego thing, baby?” He cuts you off, leaning in. “Because I promise I won’t mock you for missing out on all the years we could’ve been fucking.”
Your eyes go wide, but he doesn’t stop.
“But if it’s an age thing…” His fingers trail lower, brushing purposely down the column of your throat, lingering against the bare stretch of skin. “I can’t promise I won’t make you admit I fuck you better than all your older boyfriends.”
God help you—you believe him. Every syllable, every cocky, arrogant drop of it.
Because there’s nothing boyish about the Zhong Chenle standing in front of you now. No juvenility or trace of the kid who used to trail after you. He’s all heat and cut jaw. Dangerous in front of you with how casually he carries himself—like he’s already won. Like, chasing isn’t necessary because he knows you’ll follow.
And you hate him for it.
You hate how much you want him for it.
Your body betrays you, working against your brain. You lean in, a reckless action, tilting up toward that infuriating smirk of his. His mouth is so close, hovering just above yours—close enough to spark fire low in your belly. But…your mouths never connect.
The finger he has on the side of your neck slides into a firm grip on your throat. Not choking, not rough, just enough pressure to anchor you in place. His lips ghost yours, refusing to give you the kiss you crave. The absence is maddening. You swear you’re shaking, yearning.
Is this what he felt like all those years?
“I’m not doing this here,” he murmurs, roughly.
You blink, dazed. “W-what?”
His thumb strokes lazily at your pulse point, mocking how fast it hammers beneath his touch. “As much as I want every guy in this room to see you all over me…” His mouth skims the edge of your jaw, breath molten, a brand against your skin. “…if you kiss me right now, Y/N, I’ll fuck you right here. Bent over this bar.”
Wetness pools in your panties at the sheer filth of it. The threat. His voice. His mouth. God, his mouth is just as hot as he looks—unapologetically coarse. It’s filthy. It’s everything you’ve secretly wanted and never admitted.
It’s why you’ve been bone-dry for the past year.
Because you don’t want nice. You don’t want sweet. You don’t want the kind of sex that involves careful hands. You don’t want Mark and his gentle kisses that never once made your body ache the way Chenle currently is just by standing close.
You want bad. Rough. Dirty. Everything Mark could never give you. And you’ll be damned if you let this chance slip by.
“So do it,” you breathe. “Bend me over this bar.”
For the first time all night, Chenle falters. His throat works, bobbing in a way that’s so fucking hot you nearly whimper. His grip on your throat tightens— it doesn’t hurt, just holds you still to see the way his eyes darken, go glassy with want.
“Stop it, Y/N,” he grits. “Don’t test me.”
“Why not?” you push, drunk on the power, on him. (And probably the martini.)
His jaw flexes, teeth grinding. “Because I’ve fantasised about fucking you for years, Y/N. And I’m not doing it here, at my friend’s fucking wedding reception—” His mouth brushes your ear. “—and I’m certainly not sharing the view of your legs spread, bare ass, pussy dripping for me… with anyone else.”
Your thighs press together under the bar before you can stop yourself. He notices, eyes dropping, catching the shift of your body, then lets them lift back to your face with a slow, knowing smile.
“See?” he chuckles, mouth curving.“You’re not ready for me. You think you are. But not here.”
You swallow hard, throat dry. “Then where?”
“My place.”
You really hope Chenle doesn’t like that vase on his console table, because as he shoves you through the front door of his apartment—mouth messy, lips pressed hard on yours—your back slams into it. The glass wobbles, thrums, then crashes to the floor.
He doesn’t look like he cares that much. Doesn’t flinch when a picture frame tips off the wall or when the door slams shut behind you. No, Chenle’s got bigger priorities—like hitching your legs around his waist, palming your ass to hoist you up, and carrying you straight to his bed. Fucking you on his bed.
He means, it’s only fair. He’s waited way too long for this—so long he can’t even remember when it started. Years of it. Torturous yearning. But those years don’t hold a candle to the last thirty-six minutes it took him to drive from the wedding back to his place. He could barely hold himself together, hands tight on the wheel, foot pressed to the accelerator, brain playing the same loop over and over: you, giving him the green light to finally take.
The years felt like a warm-up. Those thirty-six minutes? Pure hell.
A vase his mother gave him is easily replaceable. The marks he’s about to leave on your skin—hickeys, scratches, handprints that brand you his—those are replaceable too. And he intends to replace them, to lay them down again and again until you’ve got no chance of forgetting who put them there. That’s top of his list of replaceable priorities. Not broken glass.
The very second he hauls you into his bedroom, he drops you onto the edge of the bed, the mattress squeaking under the sudden impact. Your palms fly behind you, propping yourself up. He nips your kiss-bruised lips before pulling back. You push up just enough to follow him with your eyes—only to find him already lowering to his knees in front of you.
Chenle. On his knees.
Christ.
He grabs your ankle, firmly, pressing a kiss to the delicate bone before setting your heeled foot on his thigh. His fingers work at the buckle—knuckles brushing your skin, callused pads dragging slow over your arch—and judging from the dark glint in his eyes, you know this is the nicest he’ll be tonight.
Sliding your heel off, he drops it behind him with a careless thud before reaching for the other. It’s the same soothing touch, same process. By the time both shoes are gone, your chest is heaving, thighs pressed tight together like you can cage and hide the need pooling between them.
His gaze flicks down. And when it drags back up, it’s different—darker, meaner, hungrier.
“Open your legs, Y/N.”
Not a suggestion. A command. You like being commanded by him.
Giving him exactly what he wants, your knees fall apart before you even think. Chenle smirks in triumph.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low, filthy. “That’s more like it. Finally not acting like I’m still a kid begging to hold your hand.”
Heat rockets up your chest, because he’s right. You used to swat him away, roll your eyes, laugh in his face when he’d orbit around you and Karina, all braces and corny jokes. He was the annoying kid. Jeno’s shadow. Never—this.
He hooks his hands under your knees and drags you forward on the mattress until the edge bites into your ass. His shoulders spread between your thighs and he slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down, disregarding them somewhere along with your heels.
“You ignored me for years,” he goes on, mouth hovering just shy of your inner thigh. His breath is hot. Mean. And the bastard has the nerve to blow air on your folds. “Made me feel like a fucking joke. And now? Now I’m here—between your legs—teasing this sweet little pussy.”
Your spine bows at the sting in his tone. You want to answer, to beg, to bite back or spar with him—but your pulse hammers too hard, scattering every coherent thought.
His teeth nick the skin on your thigh and it’s sharp. Sharp enough to make you gasp. He looks up, eyes heated. “Why didn’t you want me, Y/N?” he asks. “Why did you choose to never see me?”
You bite your lip. “Because…you were like a little bro—”
“Shhh,” he shushes you with his laugh. It vibrates against your skin as he drags his mouth higher, lips skating closer to where you’re throbbing, but not giving you an inch. “Don’t say that shit when you’re squirming for me. It wouldn’t be very big sisterly of you, would it?”
And then—he bites.
“Fuck,” you gasp, hands flying to his hair.
Chenle only smiles against your flesh, tongue flicking over the mark he’s carved into your skin. “Look at that. You’re right—those braces paid off.” A featherlight touch sweeps across your inner thigh, brushing too close. “Such a pretty mark on you.”
He doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. One moment it’s teeth and taunts. The next, his hands clamp onto your hips, jerking you forward like he has every right to put you wherever the fuck he wants.
He buries his face between your legs.
“Chen—holy fuck.”
It’s not gentle. He’s not gentle. His mouth is hot and greedy, like he’s been starving for this and finally got permission to eat. Tongue dragging through your pussy, lips sealing around your clit and sucking so hard your spine bows clean off the mattress. You claw at the sheets, at his hair, at anything that might anchor you.
“Shit—fuck!”
He pulls back, just long enough to spit against you. The sound, the heat of it, has you whining before he’s even licked it up.
“Christ,” he rasps, voice wrecked, chin glossy with you. “You taste better than I even imagined.”
Your whole body seizes. “You—what?”
He laughs, all smug, and drags his tongue over you again, making you twitch. “What, you think I haven’t been jerking off to the thought of this? Since you used to sit around in those little skirts, pretending you couldn’t feel me staring?”
“Fuck you,” you bite out, but it’s ruined—soft, breathy, pathetic.
He looks up from between your thighs, eyes blown black. “You are. Right now. And your pussy loves it.”
And then he dives back in, tongue flattening against your clit, fucking you with his mouth, groaning like he’s getting off on every one of your sounds. Your hips buck. You can’t stop them. Can’t stop the way your legs fall wider, offering more, chasing every roll of his tongue like a woman possessed.
“Chenle—god—please!”
He hums, and the vibration shatters you. His hand slides up, presses flat and heavy against your stomach to hold you down when you try to wriggle away from the intensity.
“Don’t you dare run from it now,” he growls into you. “You’re gonna take it. Every fucking second. After all those years of ignoring me? You owe me this, sweetheart.”
The pressure keeps building, an unbearable amount to fight against it, and you know you’re about to break.
“Give it to me,” he orders, dragging his mouth away just long enough to lift his head, puffy lips swollen, jaw slick, eyes burning. “Cum on my fucking tongue, Y/N. Now.”
The words shoot through you, melting you. You moan, and his mouth can’t help but twist into that cocky, wicked smirk before he clamps back down on your clit, sucking like punishment. You scream. You can’t help it. Your hands fist in his hair, dragging, yanking, and he only groans, shoving your thighs wider until your knees knock against the mattress.
Never mind when did he get so hot? The real question is—where the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like this?
Because you’ve never cum so hard in your life.
Your body breaks apart, pleasure detonating through you, and it’s humiliating. The the way you cry out, the way your hips jerk uncontrollably against his face. He doesn’t let up, not once—tongue lapping, lips sucking, chin grinding—forcing it harder, vigorously, like he’s determined to wring every drop out of you.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against your cunt, voice muffled. “Fucking dripping all over me. Making a mess on my face like a good little slut.”
Your head thrashes, cheeks burning, mortification flooding your veins as fast as the pleasure does. You can’t stop, can’t quiet the broken sounds tearing from your throat.
“Oh my God!”
He pulls back just far enough for you to see him, the absolute state of him—chin, jaw, lips soaked, eyes utterly crazed. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning.
“You always this loud when you cum, Y/N?” He asks all raspy. “Good thing I got you out of that wedding and in my room, behind a closed door—because those moans? They’re mine.”
Your stomach flips, cunt still throbbing, heat rushing to your cheeks.
Chenle tilts his head. “That’s it, baby. Blush for me. Squirm for me. I like you messy and embarrassed. I like knowing the roles have reversed.”
“What happened to not mocking me for missing out on all the years we could’ve been fucking?” You manage the question, breathless, throwing his own words back at him.
Chenle wipes his mouth with the back of his hand for a final time before rising from his knees. The weight of him slots between your thighs, caging you in. His eyes peer into yours.
“I said that, did I?” His mouth twitches. “Guess I lied. Because I can’t fucking believe you kept this pretty little pussy away from me all these years… when you could’ve had me whenever, wherever. I think you should apologise to me, Y/N.”
Your laugh comes out defensive. “Are you seriously going to punish me for not seeing the vision?”
He hums, eyes flicking down to linger on your tits spilling out of the top of your dress. The mess he’s managed to make of you—whilst both of you are still clothed, save for your ruined panties on the floor—is obscene.
“I wasn’t,” he admits, head tilting. Then his mouth curls into a filthy smile. “But now you’ve said it. I like the idea.”
His hand snakes around your back, fingers trailing until they catch the zipper of your dress. The slow pull sounds loud in the quiet room, elements separating one by one.
“Because I always saw the vision, baby,” he says, eyes burning into yours. “Knew one day you’d be under me like this—spread out, desperate, begging like my perfect little slut. Even if you did marry that fucker.”
When the zipper finally gives, your dress slips loose from your shoulders. Chenle doesn’t bother with finesse—he tears it down your body, satin pooling around your waist before you can protest. His shirt’s next, buttons scattering like casualties, then his belt snaps open with a metallic bite.
“Clothes off, baby,” he rasps, shoving his suit pants down. “I’m so sick of waiting.”
Your pulse spikes. “Chenle—”
He fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head closer to press his mouth against the shell of your ear. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Dress off. Hands on my headboard. Back arched like the slut I’ve been dreaming about.”
His tone makes you instantly submissive. You’re scrambling to obey before you even think, peeling off the rest of the fabric for him. Then, you brace yourself on his bed, knees sinking into his sheets as your palms fall flat against the headboard.
He groans behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Fuck. Look at you. Finally where you’re meant to be.” His hand drags over your ass, squeezing hard until it slips lower and his fingers slide through your slick folds.
You whimper, pressing back against his hand. “Please.”
“Not yet,” Chenle stills, two fingers teasing your pussy without sliding in. “I’m clean, but do you want me to put a condom on?”
His chuckle is dark. “So fucking pretty and desperate.”
He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pushing at you, spreading you slowly until your mouth parts, letting a choked sound spill out.
“So tight, baby,” His voice cracks with restraint. “All those years, ignoring me, acting like I was just a kid—when what you really needed was me stretching you open.”
Your knuckles go white against the headboard. “Chenle—fuck, please.”
“Beg louder.” He thrusts just the tip in, then pulls out, slick dragging out of you as he does. His teasing is too much, your body can’t help but press back, chasing him.
“Please, Chenle. I need it—I need your cock. Please, just fuck me.”
He slams into you with one brutal stroke, hips snapping flush with your ass. The scream that rips from your throat could shatter glass. Thank God you already broke everything upon entry.
“Good girl,” he growls, grabbing your hips, driving into you rough, relentless. “That’s what I wanted to hear. My name, your begging, this messy little cunt gripping me like she knows who she belongs to.”
Your forehead presses to the headboard, nails scraping wood as the room fills with the sound of skin on skin, his filthy groans, your cries. He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, lips dragging wet and messy along your neck.
“You feel that?” he says against your skin. “That’s all me, baby.”
You whimper his name, body arching as his thrusts drive impossibly deeper.
“That’s it. Moan for me. Cry for me. Make it clear who’s ruining this pussy.” His teeth scrape down your throat, then he sucks hard, leaving a bruise that you know will last days. “Gonna paint you in my marks till there’s no hiding I’ve fucked you.”
Your walls spasm around him, and he groans, rutting harder. “Look at that, you’re squeezing me. You gonna cum, baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?”
“Yes, Chenle—please, I’m so close—”
“Do it,” he snarls, biting into your shoulder, hand snaking between your thighs to circle your clit in messy strokes. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the needy little slut you are.”
It breaks you. Your scream is guttural, raw. Your body convulses as the orgasm he gives rips through you. Your pussy clamps down around him, soaking his cock, slick running down your thighs and his.
He groans into your shoulder, biting down harder as your orgasm pulses around him. “Fuck—look at the mess you’re making. Dripping all over me, shaking on my cock. That’s mine, baby. You hear me? This body. These sounds. These marks. All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” you moan in agreement.
And even as you’re still twitching around him, even as your legs shake and your body sags forward against the headboard, Chenle fucks you harder, hips snapping with a feral rhythm. Every thrust drags another broken sound out of your throat, but he only smirks against your skin.
His tongue laps over the fresh bruise he just left, soothing and stinging all at once, before he sucks another hickey into your collarbone. “Gonna cover every inch of you till you can’t look in a mirror without seeing me.”
You sob into the headboard, body trembling. “Chenle—”
He laughs, thrusts still pounding into your overstimulated cunt. “That’s it. Keep saying my name. Keep letting me own you. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you like this.”
You feel light headed, it’s too good. “S-sorry,” you manage. Then swallow. “I didn’t realise you would feel so—fuck!”
“Good?” he finishes for you, lips brushing your ear, his cock slamming into you over and over. “Me splitting you open, fucking you stupid? Is this what you wanted all those years whilst you pretended I wasn’t good enough for the job?”
“Y-yes—” your voice cracks, high-pitched and pleading, but he makes you say it again.
“Say it properly.” His palm cracks against your ass, the sting of a handprint branding hot, just another mark he’s adding to his collection. It’s harsh enough to snap your head back so you can’t bury your face, can’t hide from him. You’re forced to feel every filthy word he growls into your ear. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“It’s what I want,” you sob, tears blurring your vision as your body gives and gives beneath him. “Please, Chenle, I want it.”
His groan is intense, his hips grinding deep, his free hand gripping your hip so hard you know there’ll be bruises. “That’s my good girl. My perfect little doll. Letting me use you just how I want.”
You whimper, pressing your ass back against him, and he laughs. “Fuck, look at you. So desperate. So fucking pretty when you give up and let me take everything.”
He buries his face in your neck, licking and biting, breath hot and broken as he pounds into you. “You’re mine. You’re gonna stay mine. Gonna let me cum in this tight little cunt and mark you from the inside out so you never forget me.”
Your nails scrape against the headboard, body melting into his as you let him take. His pace turns sloppy, frantic, his hips driving with raw need.
“You want it?” he pants, teeth sinking into your shoulder again. “Want me to fill you up? For me to cum so deep inside you, you’ll feel it every time you move tomorrow?”
“Yes! Please, Chenle, cum inside me—”
That’s all it takes. He snarls, thrusts breaking, and then he’s buried deep, cock pulsing as he spills into you, groaning your name. His grip on you is brutal, anchoring you down as if he could fuse your bodies together and never let go.
“Fuck—fuck, take it,” he moans, shuddering through his release. “Take every drop like a good fucking girl.”
When he’s done, he stays there, still inside you, hips twitching, teeth still pressed into your skin like he can’t stop marking you, even now.You try to shift, thighs trembling, but Chenle clamps his hand down on your hip and snarls into your ear.
“Don’t you fucking move.” His cock is still buried inside you, softening but refusing to slip out. His cum leaks down your thighs, and he hisses at the feel of it. “Keep me right there.”
Your face burns, body shuddering as he presses his chest into your back, teeth chafing the fresh bite marks he left on your shoulder.
“God, look at you,” he rasps. “You’re all marked and dripping with me, baby. You’ve never looked better. Never sounded better. All those years acting untouchable… just to end up under me, begging like a desperate little whore.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, mortified at how your body clenches at his words. He feels it and chuckles darkly against your skin.
“It’s cute that you’re trying to pretend you don’t fucking love the feel of me inside you. You spent years looking down at me because you’re older, hotter and more experienced—” he licks the shell of your ear again, dropping his voice to a filthy whisper. “—but now you’re just my fucked-out toy. And you’re never gonna forget it.”
Every word he says burrows under your skin, humiliating, intoxicating. He kisses your cheek almost sweetly, then bites down hard enough to make you gasp. Again.
Finally, finally, he eases his hips back, cock dragging out of your swollen cunt. His cum spills messily down your thighs, and he watches it with a satisfied groan. His thumb swipes some of it, pushes it back in, and you shudder.
"Perfect,” he mutters. “Messy, ruined, and finally mine. So fucking hot.”
kay. she/her (woc). 21 . bald kyungsoo & long haired woozi enthusiast
most of my fics do happen to be 18+ and are marked as such! minors are NOT allowed
“she want a boy that pull her hair and hold the door for her”
💿now playing: i’m the one by dj khaled, chance the rapper
❯ summary: Everyone knows your boyfriend Jisung is the perfect gentleman—sweet, caring, and always polite. But you know better. That soft mouth he uses for innocent kisses is secretly filthy. Those gentle hands that guide you through crowded rooms prefer to be wrapped around your throat. And that shy act he does is just that—an act. Because Jisung doesn’t just like control—he needs it.
❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader
❯ genre: established relationship, just filth, smut
❯ words: 1.7k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, lots of dirty talk, hair pulling, slight degradation kink, rough blow job, mention of breath play, mirror kink, fingering, no plot just porn, reader uses her/her pronouns, me pushing the dom!jisung agenda yet again 🤫
an: this was lowkey inspired by that scene from euphoria where maddy says, “you’re telling me ethan ripped your clothes off and fucked the shit out of you?” very jisung coded in my head lol. it's always the shy, quiet ones. 🤠
Your favourite thing about Jisung is his mouth—those pretty pink lips he licks when he’s nervous, the ones he always presses to your cheek before leaving for work. The same lips that are currently praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you’re being in that low, breathy voice whilst he fucks two thick, calloused fingers in and out of your dripping pussy.
"Keep your fucking eyes open," he rasps gruffly, fingers working faster, deeper. "I like watching you watch me make you cum—wanna make me happy, don’t you baby?"
And you nod, breath hitching, because of course you do. You want to make him happy the same way he always makes you happy. The same way he makes everyone happy. Because that’s just who Jisung is—kind, generous, so blatantly giving.
So of course he slips a third finger inside you without any warning, groaning when your lashes flutter from the stretch. His cock twitches at the sight too.
Your second favourite thing about Jisung is that no one else knows him like this. No one would believe you, either. Sweet, soft Jisung—whose ears flush pink at compliments, who always walks on the outside of the sidewalk with you on the street, who opens every door for you like a perfect gentleman—is the same man who needs absolute control when he fucks.
You still remember it—months ago, just before Renjun’s birthday, when the boys were teasing him for being so innocent. And you’d just smiled, biting your tongue, keeping yor mouth shut. Because Jisung isn’t innocent at all. He just saves all his sins for you.
Like right now.
He’s sitting behind you on his bed, legs spread wide, letting you slot perfectly between them. He’s managed to get you completely naked whilst he’s still fully clothed. Your bare back pressed tight to his chest.
His fingers are buried deep in your cunt, pumping steadily, relentlessly, while his other hand wraps around your throat—thumb pressing just enough to test your breath. His grip keeps your gaze locked on that mirror he insists stays pointed at the end of the bed.
Because his favourite thing: watching you, watch him, ruin you.
“Such a pretty little slut, aren’t you, baby?” he coos, voice deceptively soft as his fingers work faster, wetter, filthier—lewd sounds echoing in the room just how he likes.“Three fucking fingers… so greedy.”
“Bet you’d let me fit a fourth,” he grins, lips grazing your ear as he curls his fingers just right, pressing deep against your g-spot. “Wouldn’t you, baby? Let me stretch this tight little pussy open just because I said so, huh?”
You moan, head tipping back against his shoulder as your chest rises in uneven breaths. The hand he has around your throat tightens in that delicious way he knows you love. Not just to test your breath—but to take it too. Because he knows, you’re just as sinful and deprived as he is.
“Look at you,” he groans, eyes locked on your reflection. “Dripping down my fingers, mouth open, eyes all wet. All I’m doing is fingering you and you’re a fucking mess.”
“Jisung—please,” you whimper, squirming in his lap, desperate for more—more friction, more pressure, more of him. But all he does is chuckle, slow and cruel and so, so smug.
You squirm harder against him, but he only shifts his thighs beneath you, locking you in place.
“Tsk,” he hums. “Always so needy.”
You gasp when his fingers curl again, hitting that spot that makes your thighs jerk. He doesn’t slow down—he wants it messy. Wants you incoherent.
“You like being used like this, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You like being my perfect little fucktoy. All mine to play with.”
He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, admiring your slick stretching between them. Then, he presses them to your lips.
“Open,” he demands.
You do—instantly—greedily sucking them into your mouth because this isn’t the first time he’s asked you to do this. It’s his second favourite thing. And that’s when he groans, low and deep, cock straining in his jeans behind you.
“Fuck,” he hisses, eyes dark in the mirror. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re ready to take whatever I give you.”
He pulls his soaked fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, then lets them trail down your sternum, your stomach, back to where your pussy is dripping for him again. His thumb instantly finds your clit as his fingers thrust back inside of you. You feel it building in your spine, your legs twitching.
“You gonna cum just from my fingers, baby?” he purrs. “Gonna make a mess all over yourself for me because I asked you to?”
You nod again, wild now, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain, but because it’s too much. Too much and still not enough.
“Then be a good girl and do it,” he orders, fingers curling wickedly. “Cum for me like the little fuckdoll you are.”
He lets you come down slowly. His fingers stay buried inside you, still working, coaxing every last tremble from your wrecked body. And once your moans taper off into soft, breathless whimpers, he finally withdraws his hand. You whine at the loss, cunt throbbing and wet.
“You did so well, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “So good for me.”
He presses a soft kiss to your cheek—too sweet for what he just did to you, but you remember, he still is that sweet boy. Even when he’s making you cum like nobody else can.
His eyes darken, and it has you moving before he even says a word. You know exactly what he wants now, what you want to do to him—you’re just that in tune with each other—sliding down off the bed to your knees.
Your fingers fumble with the button of his jeans until you free him from his briefs—his cock flushed and hard, thick and long and leaking from watching you come undone on his fingers.
“Eyes on me when you open that pretty mouth, baby,” Jisung says, and as you glance up through your lashes, he grips a fistful of your hair at the base of your skull.
You wrap your lips around his tip, tongue flicking over the slit, and he groans low in his chest, head tipping back briefly before locking eyes with you again.
“Fuck, Y/N, don’t make me work for it,” he breathes, tightening his grip and giving your head a small tug forward.
You take him deeper, hand stroking the base as your lips work around him, spit already dripping down your chin. He hisses, hips twitching as your tongue flattens along the underside of his cock. His grip tightens in your hair, and he bucks up just a little. And then he pulls.
Not just a tug—he fists your hair tight and drags your head down, forcing his cock deeper until your nose is flush against his pelvis and your throat clenches around him.
“Fucking take it,” he grits, groaning as your eyes well with tears, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth. “God, you look so fucking good like this. All mine.”
You gag, and he finally lets you pull back, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock as you gasp for breath—but he doesn’t let go. He keeps your hair tight in his fist, tugging again, guiding your pace.
“Fuck you’re so beautiful, baby,” he pants. “Down on your knees with that mouth ruined from sucking me off.”
You moan around him at that—your hands now digging into his thighs for balance as he fucks into your mouth with slow, devastating thrusts. Each time you take him deeper, he gives your hair another sharp pull, tilting your head back just enough to watch your lips stretch around him, then forcing you down again until you choke.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Messy fucking mouth drooling all over my cock. Don’t stop, baby, don’t you dare stop.”
You hum, desperate to please, and the vibrations push him over the edge.
With a guttural groan, he jerks your head down one last time, holding you there as he spills down your throat, cock twitching between your lips. He moans your name, and you swallow every last drop, throat working around him as tears finally slip down your cheeks.
He doesn’t release your hair right away—just strokes the strands with one hand, cradling the back of your skull almost tenderly now.
When he finally lets go, you collapse forward against his thigh, panting—your mouth swollen with your spit and his cum smeared across your lips. He smiles, fucked-out and breathless, brushing your hair back with gentle fingers.
“My perfect girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead like you’re still the most innocent thing in the world. “You still with me?”
“Mhm,” you nod slowly.
He tilts your chin up, eyes searching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, baby?”
“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”
His expression softens even more, something suspiciously like guilt flickering behind his eyes. He carefully tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “You gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, alright? I get carried away sometimes. You’re just so… perfect.”
You nuzzle into his hand instinctively, and he pulls you up from the floor, settling you into his lap. You straddle his thighs, face tucked into the curve of his neck. His arms wrap around your waist, a soothing thumb tracing down your spine.
“I’m okay, Ji,” you murmur against his throat. “I promise. I liked it. I love how you get with me. I like being the person who gets to know you like that.”
He exhales through his nose, holding you tighter. “I just need to know you feel safe. I never want to go too far.”
“You never do.”
Jisung presses a kiss to your jaw, then another to your shoulder. “You’re so good for me,” he breathes. “Let me clean you up, okay?”
And there he is—that sweet boy, back like he wasn’t the one who just ruined you like a complete slut. Now he’s kneeling beside you, treating you like something fragile. He wipes between your legs with smooth hands, whispering soft apologies even though you begged for every second of his ruin. His touch is featherlight now—soothing the marks on your throat, brushing hair back from your flushed face, kissing your temple.
And that’s your third favourite thing about Jisung: how he can completely break you apart and then put you back together again.
i would lay my life down for the works mentioned below!!! these are works that have moved me, that have captivated me, that have changed me, that have inspired me, and everything in between. I've read all of these at least like 5 times each and I'm so honored to share a space with some talented writers. Please please take the time to read ALL these works if you can and support these talented people!!!!
I'm also still searching for new fics whether it was posted 500 years ago or 10 seconds ago so comment below your absolute non negotiable favs!!! I'll reblog this ppost everytime I update it!!
scoups
untitled drabble @nonranghaes
seungcheol interacting with a cat makes me soft
baby, darling, light of my life @diamonddaze01
jeonghan
storm @tonicandjins
soup for the soul @sungbeam
because grocery shopping is my love language @twogyuu
smoking and other new things @leejihoonownsmyheart
jeonghan drabble @chugging-antiseptic-dye
THIS IS SO SO SO CUTE!!!!
do you like me jeonghan drabble @wqnwoos
joshua
worship in the bedroom @ylangelegy
the first time i read this, my toes literally tingled bc it felt like i was actually having this moment with joshua. this is so incredibly written, it's silently seductive (SO SO SO HOT) and now that joshua tattoo is ocnfirmed, i reread this all the time bc joshua is the love of my life and i am obsessed with him. this story is definitely in my top 5!
distracted @eomayas
oh GOODBYEEEeEE. this is something I reread once a week. It is so so so so so so so GOOD. Like it perfectly describes what it feels like to go feral over joshua. im obsessed with this author and this fic is genuinely SO insanely good I once again have no words to describe my love for it
vanilla @milfgyuu
9:18 @marriiemeii
perfect gentleman @wonwussy
at the altar @blushnote
jun
what's my age again @milfgyuu
this was one of the first fics i read when i first got into seventeen and to this day i still think it's a masterpiece. it's just so jun!!!
good things from bad days @cheolism-archive
everything written by this author is lowkey on this list LMAOOOOO but this story in particular is just so sweet. friends to lovers done perfectly. also this author has a new blog so check it out: @ddeonghwa-s (work from that blog is also listed here)
also this story comes with a cute drabble
balloons and handmade cards @junkissed
i love dad jun and this was just so so sweet!
jun back home drabble @miaoua3
hoshi
baby @sailorsoons
literally such a well thought out and detailed plot- i felt like i was reading a sci fi/fantasy novel fr fr!! love this author, keep this author in ur thoughts- her previous blog disappeared into the actual VOID BUT she's republishing all her works!!! one of my favs by her is a wonwoo fic "Chat, is that rizz" so when it comes out on 2/14, i WILL be reposting that
wonwoo
patterns @highvern
HOLLLLLLYYYYYY SHITTTTTT this series is INCREDIBLEEEEEee like insanely good- there are no words in the english language that can express the masterpiece that this is. I love the dynamic between these two and am wishing them the best in any future chapters!!!
meet cute of the century @lovelyhan
oh my god. this story gets #1 on this list of favs. This story is so so so so sweet and I loved the way these two fall in love, have a slight falling out but make up again. It's written so beautifully and is truly a work of art. I'm manifesting drabbles or anything else about these two because I'm obsessed an unhealthy amount
inflection point @lovelyhan
twisted fate @smileysuh
one of the first fics I read on here and the plot is so well written and I loved the enemies to lovers vibe! absolutely amazing
wonwoo fluffy drabble @etherealyoungk
light @seokminfilm
endpoint @highvern
inSaNEEEE i felt my heart drop at the plot twist LOL
bore next door @ncteez
one of the first fics I read on here and yall the smut is actually so insane !!! so well written!
watch me @1997devil
wonwoo first snow drabble @wqnwoos
lucky @97-liners
This is so so SO CUTE and soft and sweet!! was obsessed with tuna the cat! This is part of a mini series linked here
wonwoo midnight hunger drabble @fxstpace
mingyu
be alright @eomayas
this hurt me so badly, so well written. you can feel how hurt reader is about her actions and it was just written so so beautifully!!!
better half @tomodachiii
when I first read this my life literally changed. this was so so beautifully written and really conveyed the genuine love mingyu feels for his wife. everything about this was so unique, so pure, so beautiful and I wish for everyone to find a partner like the mingyu in this story. there's just so much to say about this story like how reader takes care of mingyu and how their relationship is built on mutual respect and love. definitely in my top 5 fics!! This is also a series so check out the rest of the stories here!!!
