enemies with more benefits
part II of enemies with benefits
⟡ summary: even amid that intense rivalry, there was something stronger than simply being enemies; junmyeon and you knew that very well.
⟡ content: +18 content, mdni, smut, plot with porn, office au, enemies to lovers, mention of alcohol, angst, swearing, oral sex (both receiving), sub and dom leaning, brief manhandling, raw sex, dirty talking, creampie, doggy, multiple orgasms, cum eating, junmyeon's a certified yearner, but reader has evitative attachment | junmyeon x f!reader | wordcount: 15.5k words (sorryyyy)
⟡ a/note: hi, my loves !! omg, part 2 is finally here. first, i'd like to thank you all for supporting ewb when it was just an idea that popped up in my head on a random day. tbh, i didn't expect to write a second part, but when you asked for it, it was like 'why not?' and then, i realized i didn't want it to end (that explains the 15k words, lmao). second, you're gonna see different povs. it was 100% intentional to focus on jm/reader feelings and struggles, so don't be surprised when the pov changes between the dividers !! i hope you enjoy it, mhwaaa <3
Monday morning arrived with its usual sharp reality. Standing in the elevator, you watched the floor numbers climb, adjusting the collar of your blazer to make absolutely certain that the faint, fading shadow on your collarbone was completely invisible to the rest of the world.
When the doors opened, there he was.
Junmyeon was standing by the printer, looking untouchable. His suit was tailored to perfection, his hair was swept back, not a single strand out of place, and he was tearing into a junior analyst about a formatting error in a report. But then, his eyes caught yours.
For a split second, the mask slipped. His gaze dropped to your lips, then flickered to your neck, a knowing glint appearing in his eyes that made your skin tingle with the memory of his mouth on yours. He didn’t smile. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, a familiar, arrogant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re five minutes late.” His voice was smooth and professional. “Busy weekend?”
“I just like to make an entrance, Kim,” you countered, walking past him to leave your purse, purposely brushing your shoulder against his arm.
Junmyeon let out a sharp, scoffing laugh—the kind designed specifically to piss you off—and as usual, he spent the rest of the morning sabotaging your workflow. He accidentally forgot to CC you on a memo, challenged your data in the 10:00 AM briefing, and made sure to mention his sales leads at every possible opportunity.
It was infuriating. It was classic. It was exactly the kind of rivalry that kept the office gossiping.
The week was going to be long, and he was going to spend every second of it trying to get through your mind—and under your skin, but you didn’t mind. After all, you knew exactly how he looked when his suit was on the floor, and his pride was in your hands.
The BBQ restaurant was loud, filled with the sizzle of meat on grills and the boisterous laughter of a team finally letting off steam. Normally, a Wednesday night dinner would be a tactical battlefield for you and Junmyeon, but the atmosphere—and perhaps the several rounds of drinks—had softened the edges of the workday.
Junmyeon was sitting across from you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the strong lines of his forearms as he expertly manned the grill. He was in his element, playing the part of the attentive manager, but his focus kept drifting.
While you were busy laughing at a story Minji was telling, you didn’t notice that your small dipping bowl was empty. Without a word, and without even breaking eye contact with the person he was talking to, Junmyeon reached over. He took your bowl, refilled it with the exact amount of sauce you liked, and placed it back in front of you.
A moment later, he noticed you struggling with a particularly large piece of galbi. Quietly, he picked up the kitchen shears, snipped the meat into perfect, bite-sized pieces for you, and nudged the plate closer to your hand. It was seamless—a silent, domestic habit that had no place in a professional rivalry.
Sora, sitting right next to you, went quiet. She watched the exchange with wide eyes, then leaned in close, her shoulder bumping yours.
“Okay… what’s going on with you two?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the clinking of glasses, but dripping with mischief. “Since when does Kim Junmyeon do table service?”
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “He’s just doing the same for the whole team.”
“Uh-huh.” A smirk played on Sora’s lips as she watched Junmyeon subconsciously slide the best cut of ribeye onto your plate. “He hasn’t cut anyone else’s meat, babe. In fact, he just told Minho to get his own water.”
Minji caught it too, joining the conversation immediately. “If I didn’t know you guys hated each other, I’d say he looks like a man who’s already obsessed.”
“Exactly!”
“Look at him—he’s literally waiting for you to take a bite to see if it’s cooked right,” Minji added.
You looked up, and sure enough, Junmyeon was watching you through the haze of the grill smoke. He caught your eye, and for a split second, that arrogant, competitive mask was nowhere to be found.
“C’mon… he’s just being annoying,” you muttered to your friend, though your heart was hammering against your ribs.
“If that’s annoying,” Sora laughed, raising her glass to her lips, “then I need to find myself an enemy, fast.” Both of them laughed together while you tried to bite your tongue.
“I agree,” Hana added after being extremely quiet, observing everything with a mischievous smile. “It’s getting hot in here, huh?” She pinched your cheek, clearly mocking you.
“Please… shut up.”
The night stretched on, fueled by more rounds of drinks and the loud, comfortable chaos of the team. Even though you were sitting at opposite ends of the table now—having been separated by a reshuffle of seating—the air between you felt like a live wire.
You didn’t speak to him. You barely even looked at him. But you were acutely aware of Junmyeon in a way that felt almost biological. You could feel the exact moment his eyes drifted toward you from across the room; you could hear his low, distinct laugh even over ten other people talking.
It was a strange, magnetic tension that neither of you could explain to anyone else.
When the dinner finally wound down, and everyone spilled out onto the sidewalk to hail taxis, the cool night air hit you with a sharp clarity. The team was buzzing, exchanging hugs and drunken promises of “doing that every week,” but you stayed on the periphery, searching for your phone in your bag.
Suddenly, the space beside you grew warm.
“The driver is five minutes away,” Junmyeon said quietly. He wasn’t looking at you; he was looking at the traffic, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I put it on my app.”
“I can get my own uber, Junmyeon,” you replied, though the protest was weak. Neither of you drank that much, but somehow the alcohol had made your limbs feel heavy and your heart a little too open.
“I know you can,” he murmured, finally turning his head to look at you. The streetlights caught the sharp line of his jaw and the dark, unreadable depth of his eyes. “But I’m not asking.”
There was that dominance again—the quiet, effortless way he took charge that usually made you want to scream, but tonight, it just made your breath hitch.
The car was quiet, the city lights blurring into long, neon streaks across the window. Junmyeon looked like a completely different person in the dim cabin. With his head tilted back against the headboard and his glasses slightly askew, he looked human—vulnerable, even. His chest rose and fell in a slow, heavy rhythm that suggested he’d finally succumbed to the alcohol and the long day.
You let out a soft, huffing breath, leaning your head back as well. “Idiot,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the hum of the tires. “Acting like you’re so composed, cutting my food like that in front of everyone... you’re going to get us caught one of these days.”
You paused, watching the shadow of a streetlight pass over his sharp features.
“I don’t know how you do it,” you continued softly, thinking he was sleeping. “Being the most annoying person I’ve ever met and… the only one I actually wanna see at the end of the day. God—it’s frustrating.”
“I called it a talent.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin. Junmyeon hadn’t moved an inch, but his lips were parted in a lazy, lopsided smirk. He didn’t open his eyes, but he reached out, his hand fumbling blindly across the leather seat until his fingers found yours, lacing through them with a firm grip over his thigh.
“You’re… awake?” you stammered, feeling the heat rush to your face.
“Just resting.” His thumb began a slow stroke over the back of your hand. “And for the record, I wasn’t acting. You were struggling, and I know how much you hate asking for help, sweetheart.”
Junmyeon finally opened his eyes, though they were heavy and slightly unfocused behind his glasses. He turned his head to look at you, his gaze dropping to your mouth.
“By the way, you’re terrible at ‘hating’ me. Your voice gets all soft when you think I’m asleep. Adorable.”
You bit your cheek, a smile threatening to break through your annoyed facade. You quickly turned your face toward the window, looking out at the passing buildings to hide the way your lips were curving.
“Shut up, Kim,” you whispered, though you didn’t pull your hand away. “The alcohol is talking.”
“It made me honest.” His voice dropped to a low, intimate rasp as he pulled your hand toward his lap.
You looked back at him, your heart hammering. “Go back to sleep.”
“Yes, m’am.” He curved his lips before nodding at you, holding your hand tighter. The way he was looking at you, with that raw, unfiltered hunger, made you want to surrender all over again.
Of course, the elevator ride seemed to go on forever; the numbers on the display ticked by far too slowly. Junmyeon let you go in first and slowly stepped in behind you. Even when he acted quietly, he radiated a heat that was impossible to ignore.
“Go home,” he whispered, his hand ghosting over your elbow for a split second—a touch so brief it could have been an accident, if not for the way his fingers lingered. “Sleep. You look like you’re already dreaming.”
“And what would I be dreaming about?” you dared to ask, looking up at him through your lashes.
A slow, dangerous smirk ghosted over his lips. “Me. Obviously.”
“Then… you sure you want me to go?”
His eyes dropped to your lips; he couldn’t even answer your question. His mouth crashed onto yours as his life depended on it, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your fingers rapidly looked into his pocket for his keys, struggling to open the door when his lips slid through your neck.
“Fuck—I need you.”
“I know you do, Kim.”
The door slammed open. You didn’t even make it to his bedroom before his tie was wrapped around your fist, pulling him closer until you could feel the frantic thud of his heart against your chest.
It was like the heat in your bodies evaporated the alcohol in your systems. Effortlessly, Junmyeon carried you in his arms to take you to bed. His lips quickly found yours again, his fingers exploring every inch of your body that wasn’t covered by your clothes. Suddenly, his nimble hands slipped off your sweater and unbuttoned your blouse as his mouth trailed down to your neck and collarbone.
“What the hell did you do to me?” He sucked your lower lip, groaning when your fingers gripped his hair tightly.
“Hmm? Nothing… yet,” you purred, chuckling.
His lips curved. “You devilish woman.” Junmyeon just pulled away a few inches as his hands took his vest off, then his tie, and finally his shirt. Without breaking eye contact with you, he let his clothes fall piece by piece onto the floor. “Will you behave tonight?”
When he saw the look in your eyes—that defiant gaze that drove him completely crazy—he leaned in to kiss you once more, slowly, passionately, just like him.
But you weren’t waiting for permission. You knelt over the mattress, your fingers tangled in his belt, pulling on it until it loosened, unbuttoning his pants to take them off in a quick move that made him groan in surprise.
“Shit—”
Your palm met the searing heat against his boxers. His cock was semi-hard, but as your thumb began a slow, agonizingly firm stroke up the length, he let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob, reacting at every touch.
“Behave?” You found his eyes that spoke more than his own mouth. “Of course, love,” you whispered against his skin, your mouth trailing hot kisses down his sternum, leaving a wet trail until you reach his hip.
“Fuck—baby,” he choked out, his breath ragged, making his voice sound rougher. “Make me feel good.”
“Always.”
You moved lower, your lips ghosting over the ripples of his abs, tracing the soft trail of hair that led straight into the waistband of his boxers, discharging them in a slow move. You could feel the muscles in his stomach twitch and contract under your tongue. When you finally reached the tip, you looked up, watching his face through your lashes—the way his glasses were sliding down his nose and his lips were parted in a silent plea.
“Are you going to admit how much you need this?”
“I need it,” he rasped, his hands fisting on nothing. “I fucking need you. I’ve been sitting in that damn restaurant all night just thinking about you in my bed. Fuck—please... just take me.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. You took his cock into your hand, your thumb swirling over the weeping tip, and then you leaned down, your tongue taking a long, slow lick from the base to the crown.
Junmyeon completely lost it. His hips jerked off, a loud groan leaving his lips. “God, yes! You’re so fucking good at this... and so damn pretty.”
“Am I?” you whispered, before taking him into your mouth, your eyes locked on his.
Junmyeon’s fingers were trembling with the sheer force of the lust. “Fuck yes, doll. So damn gorgeous and mine.”
You pulled out, leaving a trail of saliva, kissing his base, wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat of his skin searing against your palm. He was thick and pulsing, and the sensation of him jumping under your touch made a low, triumphant hum vibrate in your throat. You started a slow, deliberate rhythm, your hand sliding up to the very crown, squeezing just tight enough to hear him gasp.
“You’re so responsive tonight,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Such a good boy.”
“Y-yes—y’know I am,” he managed to choke out, his hands reaching down to bury themselves in your hair, his fingers tangling deep against your scalp. Junmyeon wasn’t pulling you away; he was anchoring himself, his knuckles white as he fought to stay standing.
That sly smile on your lips couldn’t be hidden even when you bit your lower lip. You leaned in and took his cock into your mouth, the sudden heat and wetness causing his knees to buckle slightly. You swirled your tongue around the ridge, focusing on every sensitive nerve ending until he was swearing—low, filthy words that praised and cursed your name all at once.
“Oh… Jesus. That damn mouth of yours.”
When you slid back out, replacing your mouth with your hand, he let out a frustrated, needy sound. You jerked him off with a relentless, punishing speed, your thumb grinding against the tip while your other hand reached down to squeeze him at the base.
“Fuck... don’t stop, please,” he begged, his hips starting to move in a raw, uncoordinated rhythm, thrusting forward into your palm. “I’m right there... Please—”
“So desperate.” But certainly, every time he begged you, it vibrated directly into your wet, aching cunt.
You dived back down, swallowing his cock again, feeling his tip hitting your throat. You could feel the muscles in his thighs trembling as he lost the battle with his own composure. Junmyeon began to thrust more urgently now, his hips snapping forward against your face as he chased his release.
The lack of air made you pull out, breathless, dripping spit all over your lips. You had him in a vice grip, your palm slick with pre-cum and spit. Every time his hips bucked too hard, you’d slow down, circling his tip with just the very point of your tongue, watching his eyes roll back behind his glasses. Then, before he could catch his breath, you’d plunge back down, taking him so deep your eyes watered, your throat tight and welcoming.
“Fuck—yes!”
The sound coming from Junmyeon was primal—a low, rhythmic growl that vibrated through your skull as his hands tightened in your hair. He was trying so hard to maintain his poise, his thighs corded with tension as he fought to keep his rhythm steady, but you were determined to win.
“Stop fighting it, Junmyeon,” you murmured against his skin, your thumb and forefinger teasing his balls, a slow, heavy knead that made his breath hitch. “Cum for me.”
“Shit,” he gasped, his grip on your hair tightening, his knees were visibly shaking. “God—you’re so fucking good... I’m coming—”
Junmyeon didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t. His body went rigid, his fingers trembling into your hair as he was breathless, broken, and completely yours.
You swirled your tongue around the ridge of his tip with a wet, frantic suction that was too much for him. Junmyeon finally shattered. He let out a loud, choked-off shout, his hands yanking your head closer as he finally came, the force of it sending waves through his entire body.
You didn’t pull away. You kept licking his tip, lips dripping, swallowing his seed, feeling the heavy, rhythmic pulses against your tongue. When you finally stopped, his cum was dripping from your chin, your fingers sticky. Junmyeon looked like he’d just survived a wreck—holding you weakly, chest heaving, his glasses lopsided and his eyes glazed with a look of pure, unadulterated ruin.
His hands were still shaky, but as he regained a shred of his strength, that stubborn, dominant streak flared back up.
He reached out, his thumb catching a drop of himself on your chin, but instead of wiping it away, he smeared it slowly across your lower lip, making you suck his finger completely. Defiant, you kept staring at him as your tongue circled his thumb, knowing full well that deep down, your body was crying out for a little more of him.
“Now it’s my turn to play, doll.” He leaned down, his face inches from yours. He didn’t hesitate; he crashed his mouth onto yours, tasting himself on your tongue, claiming the mess you made.
Junmyeon pulled back just enough to look you in the eye again, his thumb now teasing the corner of your mouth.
You bit his thumb, looking at him boldly, knowing exactly what effect you were having on him. “Is it?”
“You gorgeous brat.” That dangerous, dark smirk returning to his lips. “I’m not done with you.” He reached for your waist, his grip firm and bruising, his eyes darkening as he looked at the curves of your body still partially hidden by your lace underwear. “On all fours.”
Goosebumps traveled your body. The moment your knees hit the mattress, Junmyeon was behind you, his presence a heavy, suffocating heat. He didn’t wait for you to settle; his hands were rough and efficient, hooking into the sides of your lace panties and stripping them down your legs in one fluid, impatient motion, giving you a firm spank that caught you off guard, making you whimper and clench your inner muscles.
“Shit—Junmyeon!”
He let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against your skin when he saw your state. “Look at that,” he rasped, his large hands coming up to grip your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks as he pulled them wide. “You’ve been acting like a little saint while you’re absolutely fucking wet for me.”
“Junmyeon,” you sobbed, your head dropping as you braced your forearms against the pillows. “I swear to god, if you don’t stop talking—ah!”
You gasped as he suddenly leaned down, his mouth replacing his gaze. He didn’t ease into it; he buried his face between your flesh, his tongue lashing out to taste the slick, heavy mess in your pussy. The sensation was so sharp, so unexpected, that your thighs trembled and your elbows buckled.
“Fuck—you taste like heaven,” he growled against your skin, his hands shifting to lock around your waist, hauling you back up so you were arched and exposed.
While he made out with your cunt, he slid two fingers deep inside you, scissoring them with a ruthless, rhythmic speed that had you wailing his name into the empty room.
“Junmyeon!” you cried, your back arching as he hit that perfect spot deep inside. “Oh…”
His fingers moved faster; your fluids made the sensation even more pleasurable. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much you love being my fucktoy.”
You felt your knees weak, your eyes closed shut tightly, feeling completely exposed and his. “Ah—I love it,” you confessed, your voice a broken, filthy wreck. “I… Fuck—Junmyeon, you feel so good.” The words slipped from your lips without you even thinking about it.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his tongue finding your clit while his fingers stayed buried deep.
Your legs went weak when you heard that pet name. “Junmyeon… please,” you whimpered.
That soft chuckle made you grip the sheets, enough to know that he was playing the same game you had started. “Shit. So damn wet for me. Just for me.”
Junmyeon pulled out his fingers, making you whimper in fear that he would stop, but he didn’t. His mouth sucked so hard and desperately at your folds that the erotic sound coming from his mouth was enough to make your muscles clench, before his fingers were grinding against your clit.
“Oh… fuck. I-I’m so close.” It sounded like a plea in between ragged moans.
“Wanna cum for me, baby?”
“Y-yes!”
His words were enough to push you to the limit, just as he wanted. Your thighs trembled; the sensation you felt was so overwhelming that even his breathing made you shiver. Your whole body was jolted by an electric shock, pushing you to your first orgasm of the night.
Junmyeon didn’t let the silence last. He moved with a focused, predatory intent, shifting his weight behind you until you felt the searing, solid heat of his cock pressing against your entrance.
“Stay still, love,” he commanded in that deep, lower tone, making you breathe in.
Junmyeon shoved himself in, his tip dragging slowly through the slick mess his mouth had helped create. You were so sensitive that even that slight friction made your inner walls twitch in a desperate, involuntary rhythm.
“Oh… fuck,” he breathed, his voice right against your lower back, thick with a dark, satisfied hunger. “You feel so good.”
You couldn’t even form a coherent thought, you gasped, getting used to the sensation. Your hands scrambled forward, your fingers knotting into the sheets, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself. “Junmyeon... please.”
He held your waist with a grip that felt like iron, and he pushed forward. The first movement was agonizingly slow and consuming, his cock stretching you open, filling every empty inch of you. Your breath hitched and stayed stuck in your lungs—a heavy, overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed.
“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder blade as he buried himself to the hilt. “Every time... you feel fucking incredible.”
You let out a long, broken moan, your head falling to the pillows as you felt the sheer weight of him inside you. “Junmyeon—ah! You’re so deep.”
“I’m gonna be deeper,” he promised, his fingers digging into your hips to steady you. He began a slow, rhythmic pull-out, only to drive back in with a little more force. “You like that?”
“Ah—yes, yes!”
You sobbed his name into the pillow, your body arching as he found the perfect rhythm. The slow, deep thrusts were more torturous than the fast ones, forcing you to feel every ridge, every pulse, and every bit of his cock.
The slow, agonizing rhythm snapped. Junmyeon’s thrusts became harder, more territorial, driving deep into you with a force that made the headboard rattle against the wall.
You let your cheek rest on the mattress, trying to control your breathing, feeling your vision blur with each thrust. “Oh my god…” You felt his palm press against your head, pressing hard, causing your walls to contract once more, quivering in a mixture of desperation and pleasure.
“You like this, don’t you?” he rasped, his voice a jagged growl in your ear as he pulled your hips back to meet every punishing strike. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels to be filled like this.”
“Shit—” you sobbed, your head thrashing against the pillow. “You’re... fuck—so good.”
“Yes?” he chuckled, pressing his palm a little harder. “Your little pussy feels like paradise. So made for me.”
“Oh—god,” you moaned, completely breathless. “Just… just go harder.”
“I’ll give you anything you want,” he promised, his breath hitching as he felt your walls clenching desperately around his length.
Junmyeon reached forward, his hands finding the clasp of your bra and flicking it open with practiced ease, tossing the lace aside. As you arched your back, seeking more contact, he hauled you upright. He pulled you flush against his sweating torso, your spine pressed firmly against his hard chest. The contrast of his hot skin against your back sent a fresh jolt of electricity through you.
“Can you hold it back a little, hmm?” His breath made you shiver so much that all you could do was nod helplessly.
One of his hands slid up to your throat, his fingers curling around your neck with a firm, commanding pressure that stole your breath and replaced it with a dizzying, primal heat. His other hand was a frantic, possessive weight on your breasts, kneading and pulling at your nipples as he continued to fuck you from behind with a relentless, driving pace.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered darkly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. “Just feel me inside, baby.”
You tried to nod, to answer, but the combination was lethal. The lack of air, the bruising pressure on your neck, and the sensation of him filling you to the hilt while his hand dominated your boobs pushed you straight over the edge. You couldn’t even whine; you could only let out a silent, open-mouthed gasp as your entire body seized, tearing up.
“Jun—ah!”
You hit your climax with a violence that shocked you, your inner walls squeezing him so hard it was almost painful. You were shaking, tearing up, your vision blurring as the pleasure peaked, clenching around him in rhythmic, desperate waves.
“Fuck!” Junmyeon let out a pained, guttural shout, his fingers digging into your neck as he struggled to maintain his own control. Your orgasm was dragging him under, the sheer suction of you making his own release feel like a ticking time bomb. “I’m... coming.”
“Ah! Do it.”
Junmyeon tried to keep his pace, but the way you were sobbing and pulsing around him was the final blow to his composure. He let out a guttural, pained sound—half-groan, half-sob. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and frantic, filling you with a heat that felt like it was reaching your very core.
“Fuck—y-yes, yes!” he whimpered, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches. He repeated your name like a prayer, a confession of total surrender that stripped away every bit of his own control.
Junmyeon didn’t pull away. He held you in place, his arm still locked around your waist, his hand slowly softening its grip on your neck, keeping your trembling body upright as your muscles began to fail. You felt your whole system shutting down, leaving you limp and heavy in his arms.
The silence that followed was heavy with the scent of sex and the sound of two people trying to remember how to breathe. Neither of you moved for a long time, the only connection being the erratic thud of your hearts and the cooling slick of sweat between your bodies.
You felt Junmyeon pulling out, his weight leaving the bed for a moment as you collapsed softly into the pillows, your limbs feeling like lead. You heard the rustle of tissues and the soft sound of him cleaning you up with a gentle, focused care that felt like a quiet apology for the bruising intensity of minutes before.
Junmyeon didn’t stay away long. He pulled the duvet over both of you, sliding into the clean side of the bed and immediately hauling you back against his chest. His skin was still hot, his heart thudding a slow, steady rhythm against your spine.
“Drink some water.”
You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he had already left the glass of water and the pills on the nightstand. “I’m tired.”
“Then rest,” he murmured, his voice thick and heavy with sleep and a faint whiff of whiskey. “It was a long day.” He buried his nose deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply. “You smell so good.”
You let out a weak, shaky laugh, your eyes already drifting shut. “I smell like BBQ, sweat, and probably you.”
“No, no,” he grumbled, his grip tightening around your waist as he nuzzled further into your hair. “You smell like... you. And my favorite distraction.”
You couldn’t believe the absurdity of his words, but there he was making you laugh again. “God… you’re so dumb.”
Junmyeon was quiet for a long second, his breathing leveling out, before he spoke again, the words slurring just a fraction. “Did you call me dumb?”
“Junmyeon,” you moved in his arms to face him directly. His glasses were gone, his eyes were barely open, and he looked completely undone. “Are you drunk?”
He let out a huff of a laugh that ended in a tired sigh. “Yes,” he lied, using that as an excuse to lean in and kiss your lips, slowly, sloppy and messily, until his lips formed a slight curve that looked like a smile. “Very drunk.”
“Sure you are.” You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the barely touch made him close his eyes. “Well… since you’re so honest right now, tell me. Who’s actually the best on the team?”
“You,” he answered immediately, his voice dropping to a low, rough whisper. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who actually makes me work for it.”
You felt a flutter in your chest, but you played it off. “Okay, now I know you’re wasted. You’d never say that sober.”
“Mmm... maybe,” Junmyeon murmured, his eyes finally sliding shut for good. He moved even closer, his lips brushing against your neck as his voice trailed off into a barely audible mumble. “But you’re really good. That’s why I really like you. Just... you.”
Your heart did a violent somersault against your ribs. You felt that strange, warm ache in your stomach, the kind that had nothing to do with the sex.
“What?” you whispered, your breath hitching. “What did you say?”
“You. I like… you.”
“Junmyeon…”
But there was no answer. That deep sigh was the only sign that he had fallen fast asleep, leaving you frozen, replaying his words over and over in your mind.
He was just drunk—that’s all it was, you told yourself. But deep down, your heart kept pounding, wondering how much truth there was in his words.
The morning was a blur of caffeine and denial. You were staring into your coffee mug like the answers were written in the foam, standing in the silent break room. You tried, you really tried to convince yourself that it was nothing but a stupid joke.
The clink of the metal spoon against the ceramic mug was the only sound in the room—until it wasn’t.
“You left early.” The familiar voice ghosting near your ear.
You jumped, the spoon clattering loudly as you nearly slopped hot coffee onto your blazer. You didn’t even have to turn around to know it was him.
“Jesus…” you breathed, finally turning to face him, ending up physically trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. “You scared me.”
His lips curved, oblivious to the weight in your chest. “Good morning.” Junmyeon leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, ready to continue when reality hit you like a truck.
That’s why I really like you—looping in your brain. The ghost that made you spend the night staring at the ceiling, and getting out of his bed earlier than you expected.
“Junmyeon—!” The panic filled your soul. You placed your trembling hands on his chest, doing your best to keep a few inches of distance between you. At the end, you were at work. “Someone… could see.” Your eyes darted around the room so quickly, afraid that someone might see you.
“Hey… hey, easy.” Junmyeon cupped your face to help you relax, stroking your cheeks with both thumbs. “There’s no one here. Just you and me.” There was a hint of the man from the night before. It wasn’t his usual competitive glare; it was something quieter, more observant. “Did something happen?”
Great. He didn’t remember.
“No!” you lied, your voice a pitch too high. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you needed sleep.”
“I did,” he admitted, trying to catch your eye—which you were trying to avoid. “But I woke up to a cold bed and a very quiet apartment.”
You gave him a weak, strained smile, focusing intensely on everything but his deep gaze. “Yeah, well, I had to work. Besides... I didn’t wanna keep listening to nonsense.”
Shit. You said it out loud. You took his hands and moved them away from your face, feeling like a fool.
Junmyeon went quiet. He watched you for a beat too long, his eyes tracking the way your fingers were trembling slightly.
“Nonsense?” he asked, his voice dropping to that low, private register that always made your stomach flip. “Do you think that everything I said last night was just the alcohol?”
“Wasn’t it?” you countered, finally meeting his gaze, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. “You were wasted, Junmyeon. You said... you said things that don’t exactly fit our rivalry.”
Junmyeon rested both hands on the kitchen counter; now you seemed even more trapped between his body and the counter. He leaned in closer, close enough that you could smell his cologne. He didn’t look like he was joking. In fact, he looked more serious than ever.
“I might have been wasted, but I wasn’t lying,” he murmured.
“Oh… c’mon. You don’t even remember. Why are you so sure?” you said quickly, clinging to the lie as a shield.
Junmyeon sighed, looking down for a second and then back at you with a genuine, confused furrow in his brow as if he were trying hard not to lose his patience. “I-I remember telling you that you’re the only one on the team who actually keeps me work on it.” He let out a short, dry breath of a laugh. “That’s not nonsense.”
“No, not that,” you said, your voice dropping as you glanced toward the door to make sure no one was coming in for their morning caffeine fix. “I mean... after that. Right before you fell asleep.”
He stopped mid-motion. He looked truly lost, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t... I thought I fell asleep right after we talked about it.”
You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest and looking anywhere but at him. You tried to force a light, mocking laugh, but it came out sounding brittle. You reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you couldn’t suppress.
“God… it was so ridiculous,” you said, trying to regain your footing as his rival. “You were practically snoring, and then you mumbled that you ‘really liked me.’ Like... really liked me.” You shook your head, forcing another awkward laugh. “I mean, can you imagine? The whiskey really hit you.”
You waited for him to join in. You waited for the sharp, arrogant retort, for him to call you a liar or tell you that you were hallucinating his affection.
But he didn’t laugh.
Junmyeon didn’t move. He stood there with his hand still on the counter, his expression completely unreadable. The usual spark of competition in his eyes had been replaced by something different.
“Why…” he asked, his voice low and disturbingly calm, “is that so ridiculous to you?”
Instinctively, you managed to get away from him, your smile fading, your heels clicking against the linoleum as you tried to maintain some semblance of a professional gap. The air in the break room was suffocatingly small. Every time he stepped forward, you felt your resolve—and your heartbeat—fracturing.
“Junmyeon, stop,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, panicked whisper as you glanced frantically at the glass door. “We’re in the office. Someone could walk in at any second. You-you’re acting weird. Get it together.”
But Junmyeon didn’t pull back. Instead, he stepped directly into your personal space, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “Acting weird?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerously steady. “I asked you a question. Why is it so impossible to believe that I like you?”
“Because we’re us!” you whispered back, your hands shaking as you tried to step back, failing completely. “We compete for everything. We... sabotage each other’s meetings. You don’t just... you don’t ‘really like’ your biggest headache, Junmyeon. It was the whiskey. You were drunk, and I was tired, and we… we need to just move on.”
“The whiskey just made it easier to say out loud,” he countered, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your eyes. Junmyeon looked frustrated, his usual composure replaced by a raw, stubborn honesty that terrified you. “Do you really think I’d let anyone else talk to me the way you do? Do you think I’d spend my nights with someone I just compete with?”
“Stop it,” you breathed, feeling your back hit the cold surface of the refrigerator. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”
“Let them,” he muttered, though he lowered his voice even further, leaning in until his breath was warm against your forehead. “Maybe I’m too tired to pretend. I said what I said because it’s true. I like the rivalry, but I like you even more. And the fact that you ran away this morning tells me you’re either scared, or… you feel the exact same way.”
“Shut up!” you hissed, your voice trembling. “I’m not—”
“Then stop running!” he challenged, his hand hovering near your waist, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t feel anything.”
You opened your mouth to give him a sharp, sarcastic retort, but the words died in your throat.
“Look…” he breathed, looking up at the ceiling, a piece of furniture, your mug, anywhere, as if he were trying to clear his mind before continuing. “I know.” He finally met your anxious gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I get it.” his head tilted, your foreheads touching as he closed his eyes in a gesture of total surrender. “But… please. Don’t walk away.”
“Junmyeon…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You closed your eyes just like he did, trying to find the strength to step back. “Stop.”
When you felt one of his hands on your waist and his lips on yours, you gasped in surprise. Your rational side was screaming at you to push him away, to shove him off, and to get out of there as soon as possible, but that something inside you completely betrayed you. Your hands clenched into fists in front of his chest, however, your lips moved with the same intensity as his.
“Stop…” you whispered against his lips, feeling a huge lump in your throat. “Please.”
Junmyeon slowly pulled away from your lips as if doing so caused him physical pain. When you met his gaze, he seemed just as vulnerable as he had on those nights you spent together.
“We need to stop,” you finally snapped, your eyes fixed on his chest, incapable of looking directly at his eyes. “For good.”
“What?” He sounded genuinely panicked. “Yeah… yeah. I know. We-we’re in the office, but—”
“No, Junmyeon,” you breathed and swallowed hard. With what remained of your strength, you pushed him away. You needed to get away quickly, before anyone saw you—or worse yet... before he made you change your mind. “Whatever this was… it’s over.”
“Wait—” His voice came out as a trembling whisper, trying to grab the sleeve of your blazer in an attempt to stop you. “We can talk about it. I told you you don’t have to feel the same. I…” You could feel him clinging to the fabric of your clothes, while you were incapable of even looking at him. “Let’s talk later, yes? Just listen—”
“Junmyeon, please. Don’t do that,” you whispered, looking at his fist gripping your sleeve. “We had fun, yeah. But we both know this isn’t right. I don’t—”
“Then use me,” he blurted out, catching you off guard.
Stunned, your eyes met his again, unable to believe what he’d said. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes!” Junmyeon was desperate. He took your hands, begging you to understand what he was about to say. “Listen... I won’t say it again if my feelings make you uncomfortable. But I don’t want this to end. You’re right, we’ve been having fun, and we can keep doing this for as long as we want... as long as you want.” He let out an anxious laugh. “Fuck—I need you. I-I...”
The sound of muffled laughter and footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing louder by the second. The panic in your chest flared, a sharp reminder of where you were. To you, those voices were a lifeline; to him, they were a distraction from the truth he was trying to force you to face.
“Junmyeon, stop. This is insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of adrenaline and fear. “Whatever this is, it’s over. It has to be.”
His eyes widened, the raw honesty in them replaced by a flash of genuine hurt. “You don’t mean that. You’re just panicked because—”
“I do mean it,” you cut him off, your words sharp and cold, designed to be a killing blow to the tension between you. “It was a game, and it went too far. Last night was the limit. I can’t do this anymore.”
Junmyeon opened his mouth to argue, his hand moving as if to catch yours, calling your name to keep you grounded in that corner with him. “Sweetheart—”
“No!” you hissed, backing away. “We’re done.”
The door swung open, and two analysts from the marketing team strolled in, mid-conversation about a project. The shift in the room was instantaneous. You smoothed your blazer with shaking hands, schooling your expression into one of professional indifference, while Junmyeon froze.
He didn’t turn around immediately. He stayed facing the refrigerator for a fraction of a second too long, his shoulders tense, his head bowed. When he finally did turn, he looked like always—stiff, cold, and untouchable—but his eyes stayed locked on you, clouded with a silent, devastating realization.
“Good morning!” one of the analysts chirped, heading for the microwave.
“Morning,” you replied, your voice remarkably steady despite the weight in your chest. You didn’t look at Junmyeon again. You didn’t dare to.
You walked out of the break room without looking back. You had to protect your career, your reputation, and your heart. But as you walked down the hall, it felt hollow, and the image of Junmyeon looking defeated in his own domain was the only thing you could see.
“Hey! I was looking for you. I need your help.” Sora appeared out of nowhere to snap you out of your trance, taking you by your cold hand and leading you over to her desk. “Were you in there? Ugh, I bet he was bothering you again, wasn’t he?”
You grimaced, trying to look indifferent. “It’s nothing… just tell me, did you need my help?”
“Oh—yes!”
Every time you walked into the office, and he was there, your facade of professionalism never faltered. But the weight of Junmyeon’s gaze was a physical pressure against your back.
He wasn’t playing the game anymore. He didn’t sabotage your files or tease you in meetings. Instead, he watched you with a quiet, persistent intensity that made your skin crawl with guilt.
By Thursday afternoon, the stress had manifested into a blinding migraine. The fluorescent lights felt like needles behind your eyes, and the hum of the office was a dull roar.
You were slumped at your desk, head in your hands, when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder.
“Hey,” Hana whispered, her voice laced with concern. She slid a bottle of water and two extra-strength painkillers onto your desk. “You’ve been really tense. What’s going on?”
“There’s something about this report that doesn’t add up.” There was some truth to your words, but you knew that wasn’t the main problem.
“Let me check—uh, Kim sent that? Go ask him,” she suggested the most obvious solution. “Hey, Junmyeon. C’mere!”
“Hana!” you hissed, trying to stop her, but it was too late.
The split second their eyes met was enough to realize that he was completely distracted, as if he’d been lost in his own thoughts.
“Y-yeah.” Junmyeon awkwardly got up from his desk and walked over to yours.
Hana, sensing the awkwardness of the situation, tried to step in, hoping that this would help you solve your problem. “Don’t be a dumbass and help her. I’m watching,” She gestured with her fingers, indicating that she would return to her cubicle but would remain alert.
Junmyeon just nodded in her direction, swallowed hard, and dared to ask: “What happened?”
“Did you check this before sending it to me?” You avoided his gaze at all costs; his eyes remained fixed on your monitor.
“Uh… yes?”
You sighed. “It doesn’t look like it.” Your trembling finger rested on the screen, right where the error seemed to be. “This is last week’s measurement. You didn’t even bother to update it, and you ruined the whole thing,” you said, trying to sound confident enough. “I doubt this week’s figure will still be the same.”
“Shit... I’m sorry. I’ll check it and send it back to you right away,” he apologized, trying not to make the situation worse. “Just give me a minute—”
“Don’t let this happen again, or don’t bother sending it back to me.”
His face seemed blank. Incapable of saying anything else, he just nodded before disappearing back to his desk.
Hana seemed just as surprised by your attitude as Junmyeon, approaching you again warily. “Christ… if you’d said that to me, I probably would’ve run off to the bathroom to cry.” She let out a soft, nervous chuckle. “Sometimes you really scare me.”
A sharp pain came over your chest—perhaps from anxiety, perhaps from exhaustion, perhaps from heartache. “Sorry you had to see that… I-I think I’m just too tired.”
Chanyeol was mid-laugh, telling a story about a botched client meeting, but he stopped when he looked over at Junmyeon. He sat slumped in the corner of a leather booth, his tie loosened and his gaze fixed on the condensation sliding down his glass. Even when he was there, drinking with his friends on Tuesday night, he looked… sad.
“Okay,” Minho said, setting his drink down and leaning forward, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by concern. “You’ve been staring at that ice cube for an hour. What happened? Work?”
“No,” Junmyeon muttered, taking a heavy swallow of whiskey. “Everything is fine.”
“Liar!” Chanyeol chirped, his sharp eyes catching the way Junmyeon’s hand instinctively twitched toward his phone on the table. “You’ve checked your notifications sixteen times. That’s not work, Minho. That’s a girl.”
But Junmyeon didn’t even snap back with his usual quick-witted defense. He just sighed, the sound heavy with defeat.
“Yeah…” Junmyeon said, his voice barely a whisper, thick with the alcohol and the weight of your rejection in the break room. “Whatever it was... she said it was over.”
Minho exchanged a look with Chanyeol. They had never seen Junmyeon like this. Usually, he was the one in control, the one holding all the cards.
“Who is she?” Chanyeol asked, genuinely curious.
“Doesn’t matter,” Junmyeon replied. “I think I lost her because I was too honest when I was drunk.”
As the night went on and the glasses emptied, Junmyeon’s professional wall crumbled completely. He wasn’t his usual self anymore; he was just a man who missed you. Under the table, out of sight of his friends’ eyes, his thumbs were flying across the screen.
Junmyeon didn’t hear them. He was just watching as every message he sent went undelivered—noticing he was blocked in your contact list.
He signaled the waiter for another refill, and then another, downing the amber liquid. He were trying to drown the memory of the way you’d looked at him—that cold, professional mask you’d donned to shut him out.
“Easy there, Champ,” Minho said, reaching out to steady Junmyeon’s glass. “It isn’t going anywhere.”
Junmyeon didn’t even look up. He just shook his head, his hair falling over his forehead in a way that was far too messy, even for him. “Every time I close my eyes,” he muttered, his voice trailing off. “I hear her telling me it was a mistake. God! It’s driving me crazy.”
Chanyeol leaned back, crossed his arms, and watched his friend with a mixture of pity and fascination. “You’ve really met your match, haven’t you? She must be something special to have you unraveling like this.”
“She’s a nightmare,” Junmyeon rambled, his head dropping back against the leather cushion. He started laughing, a dry, bitter sound that made the others go quiet. “She’s the most stubborn, frustrating, brilliant person I’ve ever met. She is… so beautiful. And I... I thought we had something real.”
“So tell her that,” Minho urged. “Call her.”
“I did! I sent a message. She’s ignoring me,” Junmyeon said, gesturing wildly with his phone.
“Ignoring you? Did she block you or…?” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow curiously. When he saw Junmyeon’s reaction, he knew he’d messed up, and Minho gave him a light smack. “Sorry…”
“She’s scared. She thinks if she lets me in, she loses it. But I-I just want to—” He cut himself off, his face flushing a deeper red as the alcohol stripped away his last filter.
“You want to what?” Chanyeol prodded, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I wanna tell her that I’d give up on everything if she’d give me a chance,” Junmyeon confessed, his voice cracking. He looked at his friends, his eyes glazed and vulnerable. “Is that pathetic? God—I feel so pathetic.”
They realized then that this wasn’t just a crush; Junmyeon was genuinely, deeply lost in someone who was his equal in every way.
“You’re not pathetic, man,” Minho said softly, sliding a glass of water toward him. “Well… maybe just a little.”
“He’s right...” Chanyeol added, tapping his glass.
“Aren’t you supposed to help me feel better?”
“Okay, okay! That’s not the point. You’re just in over your head. Maybe you need to stop acting like you and start acting like this,” Minho suggested.
Junmyeon stared at the water, then back at his phone. He began typing another message with shaky fingers.
“Did she answer?” Minho asked a minute later.
“No…” Junmyeon let out a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. He took another slow, deliberate sip of his drink. “But I get it. She’s scared,” he whispered, his thumb ghosting over his phone screen again. “She doesn’t realize that I’m not trying to take anything from her. I just wanna be there.”
“You sound like you’re talking about a war, not a relationship,” Chanyeol pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
Junmyeon emptied his glass again, the ice clinking loudly in the silence. “It is a war.” He was rambling now, his words slurring just enough to make his friends worry, but he never slipped. “I finally lowered my guard, and she used that moment to walk away. Now I’m just standing... waiting...”
Chanyeol leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he watched Junmyeon’s thumb hover over the phone screen for the hundredth time. “You know…” he started, his voice dropping to a suspicious, low tone. “The way you’re describing this girl—stubborn, sharp, always trying to get one over on you... it almost sounds like… well, y’know...”
Junmyeon’s heart nearly skipped a beat when he heard your name. For a split second, his mask completely shattered, but he covered it with a sudden, sharp burst of laughter that sounded a little too forced.
Minho let out a loud, scoffing laugh, slapping Chanyeol on the back so hard he jolted. “Man, the whiskey has finally rotted your brain. Have you actually seen them together?”
“I’m just saying, the ‘war’ thing fit—” Chanyeol started to defend himself, but Minho cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“They can’t even be in the same elevator,” Minho said, turning back to Junmyeon with a grin. “I saw them in the lobby last week. She looked like she wanted to staple his tie to the wall, and he looked like he was ready to fire her into the sun.”
Junmyeon looked down at his empty glass, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips—because of the irony. He nodded slowly, leaning back into the shadows of the booth to hide the way his eyes softened.
“See?” Minho chimed in, pointing a finger at Chanyeol. “Junmyeon wants someone who’s actually nice to him. Not someone who spends her lunch break figuring out how to sabotage his next presentation.”
“I guess you’re right,” Chanyeol muttered, looking slightly disappointed that his theory had been shot down. “I just thought maybe the hate was covering something else up. It happens in the movies all the time.”
“This isn’t a movie, Yeol,” Junmyeon murmured. “In real life, when someone says it’s over, you’re just left sitting in a bar with two idiots who don’t know when to stop talking.”
“Hey!” Minho shouted, laughing as he signaled for another round.
Junmyeon joined in the laughter, but under the table, his grip on his phone tightened. As he listened to his friends mock the idea of you two ever being together, the weight of the lie—and the silence from your side—felt heavier than the whiskey in his hand.
Chanyeol leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirled his drink. “If she’s that incredible, stop being a hoarder and invite her next time. Bring her next Saturday.”
Junmyeon’s expression shifted instantly, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated offense. He looked at Chanyeol as if the man had just suggested he sell his soul for a discount coupon.
“Invite her?” Junmyeon repeated, his voice dropping into a protective, territorial growl. “To meet you? Absolutely not!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minho asked, feigning hurt while clutching his chest.
“It means you’re both idiots,” Junmyeon snapped, though a small, lopsided smile played on his lips from the alcohol. “She has a very low tolerance for nonsense. You two would spend thirty minutes talking about gym stats and bad puns, and you’d scare my girl away before I even got her to sit down.”
Minho let out a bark of laughter that drew eyes from the other tables. “My girl? Did you hear that, Chanyeol? ‘My girl.’ Oh, you are so down bad—you’re drowning!”
“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Junmyeon muttered, his ears turning a bright, tell-tale shade of pink as he tried to hide behind his glass.
“Oh, you meant it exactly like that,” Chanyeol teased, leaning in and poking Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Look at him! He’s pouting because we called him out. Mr. ‘I-Don’t-Do-Emotions’ is over here writing invisible poetry about his girl who’s ‘too good’ for his best friends.”
“She is too good for you two,” Junmyeon defended, though he was failing to keep a straight face.
“What then? Should we bow when she walks in?” Minho continued, relentless now. “Bet she has him on a leash and he loves it.”
“Shut up,” Junmyeon groaned, burying his face in his hands as his friends erupted into a fresh wave of mockery.
“I bet he has a special ringtone for her,” Chanyeol whispered loudly to Minho. “Probably something soft and romantic.”
Junmyeon just sat there; he played the part of the annoyed friend perfectly while his friend laughed at his face, but inside, he just wanted to be with you.
By the time the taxi dropped him off, the cool night air had sharpened his focus, but the whiskey was still humming in his veins, fueling a reckless sort of hope.
Junmyeon didn’t go to his own door. Instead, he found himself standing in the hallway of your common floor, staring at the dark wood of your apartment door. His hand hovered inches from the surface, his knuckles itching to knock. It was far too late.
I shouldn’t, he thought, his heart thumping a heavy rhythm against his ribs. If I wake her up now, I’ll just prove her right.
He stayed there for a long minute, leaning his forehead against the cool frame of your door, whispering a silent apology to the silence on the other side. “Tomorrow,” he breathed. “I’ll make it right tomorrow.”
The walk to his bed seemed to take forever; his head was spinning, and it had nothing to do with alcohol. Junmyeon clumsily grabbed his phone and looked for your chat again. You hadn’t read any messages, of course—he was still blocked.
“It’s me again,” he muttered, tapping the voice message button. “Can we talk… please?” He sent it, but he didn’t seem convinced, so he continued: “Baby… I know I was wrong. I screwed up. But I need you to listen to me. Just this once, I promise. After that… you decide, please.”
Junmyeon threw himself onto the bed, taking off his glasses, exhausted, angry at himself for being such an idiot. He brought his hands to his face, wondering if that was enough, but he didn’t think so.
He rolled over onto his stomach to grab his phone again and sent another voice message:
“I’m such an idiot… I-I know I deserve your anger for not remembering what I said… for not saying it when I was sober, for not telling you to your face. God… I’m going crazy. I miss you, I want you… with me,” he sighed, his breath trembling. “I miss you… I miss you so much,” he whispered. “Don’t hate me, please… okay? I promise I’ll be better next time… if you give me a chance. Just one. Please, baby…”
“Okay, spill it,” Minji said, leaning across the table and ignoring her drink. She had been watching you like a hawk all night. “What’s going on in that head?”
By Friday, the neon lights of the lounge reflected off the cocktail glasses, but the vibrant atmosphere couldn’t quite pierce the fog in your head. Hana was the one who had finally dragged you out, insisting that it was girls’ night, while Sora spent the first twenty minutes of the night trying to find you a match on a dating app just to see you smile.
“It was a rough week, that’s all,” you said, your voice steady but your eyes fixed on your glass.
Sora rolled her eyes, clearly not buying the excuse. “Since when do you get a migraine over that? You usually live for that!”
“And Hana already told us you almost killed Kim Junmyeon yesterday,” Minji added, raising his drink as a sign of approval.
“Uh… it wasn’t like that—”
“It wasn’t?” Hana interrupted you. “Girl, you were this close to breaking his neck.” She gestured the distance with her hands.
“It’d have been funny to see that.” Minji couldn’t help but laugh as she imagined the situation. “Bet he used his free weekend pass today because of that.”
“Agree! But… if this rivalry turned into something personal—or if he said something that actually hurt your feelings—you can tell us,” Sora added.
“He didn’t hurt my feelings,” you snapped, a little too quickly. You caught yourself and took a slow sip of your drink. “I’m just stressed. Can we please talk about something else? Like Sora’s disastrous date?”
The girls took the bait, pivoting to laugh at Sora’s story, but you felt the weight of the lie sitting heavy in your stomach. You felt like a hypocrite. You were sitting with your best friends, pretending everything was normal, while you felt like a fool for thinking that you could just “switch off” your feelings.
The worst part was every time the screen on your phone flashed with a new notification, you felt a sharp, involuntary jolt in your chest. You’d reach for it with a speed that was far from casual, only to find a generic news update or an email. The disappointment that followed was a cold, hollow weight—one you were trying desperately to hide.
When it happened for the third time, you flipped the phone face-down on the velvet table a little too forcefully, remembering that, ever since the talk, you had decided to block him.
Minji didn’t say anything at first. She just watched the phone, then slowly lifted her gaze to yours, her eyes narrowing behind the rim of her glass. She wasn’t laughing along with Sora and Hana anymore.
“You’re waiting for a who,” Minji said quietly, her voice cutting through the ambient noise.
“What?” you asked, trying to sound confused as you reached for a fry you didn’t actually want.
“The phone,” she countered, gesturing to the device. “If it was work, you’d be annoyed. You’d be rolling your eyes and complaining about your inbox. But you’re jumping like a cat every time it vibrates. You’re looking for a name.”
Sora and Hana stopped talking, their attention snapping back to you. “Wait, is there a guy?” Hana gasped, leaning in.
“Is that why you’ve been so weird? Is it someone we know?” Sora joined.
“Girls—!”
“Wait, I bet it’s that guy from the logistics team,” Sora said, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. “The one with the dimples who was helping you with the inventory sheets the other day. What was his name—Yixing! He was totally hovering!”
“Logistics?” Hana chimed in, leaning over the table. “No way, he’s too nerdy. I think it’s that consultant who was here for the audit. Doh Kyungsoo? He had that ‘I’m smart, and I know it’ vibe that usually makes you want to either fight someone or go to dinner with them.”
You let out a genuine, startled laugh, the absurdity of their guesses finally breaking through the heavy fog in your chest. “Yixing? The guy who spent twenty minutes explaining the difference between ‘shipping’ and ‘handling’? No. Definitely not him. And the consultant? No, no, no.”
“Oh, come on! Then who?” Minji teased, though she was smiling now, glad to see the tension leaving your shoulders.
“I am not waiting for any guy,” you said, shaking your head as you took a sip of your drink, the laughter bubbling up again. “You guys are literally inventing a whole story in your heads. It’s not anyone. I’m just... I’m just being high-strung. You know how I get.”
As the three of them went off on an even more ridiculous target—speculating if you were secretly dating a rival from a different firm entirely—you leaned back in the booth, the smile still lingering on your lips.
Inside, however, your mind was reeling. You watched them laugh and felt a wave of bittersweet irony wash over you. If only you knew, you thought, watching Hana act out a dramatic scene of you being “wooed” by a delivery driver.
“You’re so weird tonight,” Sora laughed, nudging your arm. “But it’s good to see you laughing. For a second there, I thought you were actually gonna cry over a spreadsheet.”
“Never,” you promised, clinking your glass against hers. “Spreadsheets are reliable. People are the problem.”
The laughter continued, and for a few hours, you let yourself be “one of the girls” again, hiding the truth behind a mask of shared jokes and absurd theories. You let them believe you were just being dumb for a night, even if the silence of your phone in your pocket felt heavier than ever.
The night went on, and you completely lost track of how many drinks you’d had. Sora was so drunk that she herself suggested ending the night there, so you all agreed. While they called a taxi, you said you’d go to the restroom first.
Sitting in the cubicle, you checked his chat again; your curiosity got the better of you, and you simply unblocked Junmyeon from your contact list. Within seconds, the messages started coming in. Twenty messages from the night before, including three voice messages—the last one nearly seven minutes long.
You giggled as you read them one by one—each one less coherent and later than the last. He’d clearly sent the audios while drunk, falling asleep in the process. In the haze of the alcohol, your pride felt small, invisible, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit the call button.
One ring. Two. Three. Your heart was drumming against your ribs.
From the other side of the line, the room was dark, the only light coming from the rhythmic glow of his phone vibrating somewhere deep in the folds of his duvet. Junmyeon groaned, his body feeling like lead after the two-hour run and the day’s emotional exhaustion. He’d fallen asleep with his clothes on after a quick shower, waiting for the sound of your footsteps in the hall—a sound that never came.
Junmyeon fumbled blindly, his fingers brushing against cold pillows until they finally closed around the device. He didn’t even check the caller ID; he just swiped the screen with eyes closed and pressed the phone to his ear, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
“Hmm—hello?” Junmyeon’s voice came through, thick and rough with sleep.
“Why aren’t you here?” you blurted out, a giddy, reckless laugh bubbling up. “You said you wanted me, but... you aren’t even trying.”
There was a brief, heavy silence on the other end as he processed the voice waking him at 2:14 AM. Then, you heard the rustle of sheets and his voice sharpened, suddenly alert. “You—are you—where are you right now? Are you alone? Have you been drinking?”
“Yeees! Enough to know you’re being boring, Kim,” you teased, stumbling awkwardly within those four narrow walls. “Were you dreaming about me?” you purred and giggled.
“Damn it… stay exactly where you are,” Junmyeon commanded, his voice dropping into that authoritative tone that usually made you want to argue, but now just made you feel safe. “Don’t move. Give me the address. I’m coming to get you.”
“Hmm, no. Maybe I don’t want to be gotten,” you whispered, smiling like a fool at the door.
“Too bad. You called me. Now give me the address. Now.”
“Rude. I liked it.” You giggled, and then whispered the name of the lounge. “I might have only called because I have a secret for you. But maybe you’re too tired to hear it.”
“Tell me. Don’t hang up. I’m on my way,” he said at full speed.
Junmyeon didn’t even look in the mirror. He grabbed a wrinkled hoodie from the chair and his keys, bolting out the door with a desperate energy. The elevator felt like it was moving in slow motion, every second ticking by like a hammer against his skull.
“Hmm, no, no, no. Secrets don’t work like that!” A new notification suddenly popped up on your phone, warning that the battery was running low. “Shit. My phone’s about to die.”
Junmyeon threw himself into the driver’s seat. He peeled out of the garage, the tires screeching against the concrete as he fishtailed onto the main road. “Wait! Don’t—”
“See you later! Bye!” You hung up before he could say another word.
When you stepped back toward the street, looking for your friends, your expression had completely shifted. The haunted look was gone, replaced by a soft, secretive glow that you couldn’t suppress.
Minji was the first to notice. She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she looked at your face. Sora and Hana followed her gaze, their intoxicated confusion momentarily replaced by sharp curiosity.
“Oh—who was that?” Minji asked, her voice suspiciously sober for someone who’d had four mojitos.
“My uber. Just a friend,” you lied, though the curve of your lips betrayed you. “He’s... he’s in the neighborhood. He’s going to make sure I get home safe. You guys go ahead in the taxi.”
“A friend?” Hana squealed, clutching your arm. “At 2:00 AM? You are so busted! Who is that friend, huh?”
“Go on, get in the car!” you laughed, gently pushing them toward the yellow taxi that had just pulled up.
“Oh, no, no!” the three of them stopped you immediately. Even in the condition they were in, they wouldn’t just leave you alone there.
“I swear he’s already here! Just go!”
“No way!” Hana protested, grabbing your sleeve. “We are not leaving you on a dark street corner at 2:00 AM waiting for some mystery guy. We’re staying until we see the car!”
“I know him! It’s very safe!” you laughed, trying to gently shove them toward the taxi that was idling at the curb. “I’m a grown woman; I can handle a ride home. Plus, if you stay, you’ll just embarrass me by trying to interview him.”
“We will interview him,” Sora chirped, giggling. “I wanna know if he has a five-star rating.”
“Go!” you hissed, half-laughing and half-panicking as you saw a pair of headlights turning the corner—a car that definitely didn’t have an uber sticker in the window.
Minji looked from you to the approaching car, then back to your flushed, desperate face. A look of knowing dawned on her—she didn’t know who it was, but she knew you were far from being in danger. She finally sighed, grabbing the other two by their coats.
“Fine! But you are telling us everything on Monday,” Minji warned, pulling the protesting Sora and Hana closer to the taxi. “If you don’t text the group chat in twenty minutes, I’m calling the police and your mother!”
“Okay! Bye! See you Monday!” you shouted over your shoulder, already moving.
The plan to sneak away clearly failed spectacularly. Even with their taxi waiting, Minji, Sora, and Hana stayed planted on the sidewalk like a wall of stubborn, tipsy witnesses.
When the sleek black car pulled up and the engine cut, you didn’t even wait for the door to fully open.
Junmyeon stepped out of the car, looking worlds away in his casual hoodie, his face tight with genuine worry. He barely had time to scan the scene for trouble before you were a blur of motion, running toward him and throwing your arms around his torso with a force that nearly knocked him back against the car door.
“What—Are you okay? God, you’re freezing,” he muttered, his hands instinctively unzipping his hoodie and draping it over your shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep you safe, holding you closer. He immediately went into lecture mode, his voice stern but laced with relief. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out this late? You’re barely standing. Why didn’t you call me early? Why would you—”
“You’re not wearing them,” you whined, cutting him off as you pulled back just enough to frame his face with your hands. You began inspecting every inch of him, your fingers brushing over his cheekbones. “Where are your glasses, Junmyeon? I like the glasses.”
He blinked, completely thrown by your sudden change in tone. “I-I was sleeping,” he rasped, his voice softening as he realized exactly how much you’d had drank. He cupped your pouty face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Why didn’t you call me earlier? Why did you let it get this late?”
“I just remember I had to tell a secret,” you whispered, leaning into his touch, your eyes half-closed.
“A secret,” he repeated softly. He leaned down, his heart beating fast against your chest. “Okay. I’m here. Tell me.”
You hugged him again, tighter this time, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You stood on your tiptoes, your lips brushing against his ear as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I like you,” you breathed, the confession finally out in the open.
You felt him go rigid for a heartbeat, his breath hitching in his throat. “What?” Junmyeon pulled back just an inch, his eyes wide and searching yours with a look of pure, disbelieving vulnerability. “What did you say…” he whispered, his voice thick and wavering.
“You heard me,” Your voice was small, the alcohol-induced bravery beginning to mix with a raw, honest heat. “God! It’s... it’s so annoying, but I do.”
“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with a vulnerability you’d never seen. “Please... say it one more time.”
“I like you,” you repeated, your voice a little shaky but certain. “I really, really like you, Junmyeon—don’t look at me like that!”
In Junmyeon’s eyes, you were the most gorgeous person he had ever met. His heart was beating at full speed, feeling like he was still dreaming. He leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss that was soft, sweet, and full of the relief he’d been craving.
He was smiling into the kiss, noticing he wasn’t dreaming anymore. When he pulled back to breathe, you were the one who leaned in again—and again, and again, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around your waist.
“You’re so warm,” you giggled, peppering his jaw with tiny, messy kisses. “And I see you’re not mad anymore.”
“I wasn’t mad; I was worried,” he confessed, his forehead resting against yours. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry for acting like that…” you murmured softly before giving him quick kisses against his lips as an apology. “I’m sorry, Junmyeon.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding on his chest, embarrassed.
Junmyeon kissed your temple softly. “It’s okay, love. Everything’s fine. I’m here, you’re here.” He took a breath, smiling. As soon as he glanced at the situation over your shoulder, his expression shifted—his smile turned a bit more mischievous. “I hate to ruin this perfect moment, truly... but I think your friends are currently questioning their entire reality.”
The fog in your brain cleared for a split second. You turned your head and saw Minji, Sora, and Hana still standing by the taxi, their mouths hanging open. They looked like they had just seen a ghost—or worse, their best friend making out with the man she’d hated.
“Oh my god…” You gasped, your cheeks turning a violent shade of red. You let out a small whine of pure embarrassment and smacked Junmyeon’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me they were still there!”
You tried to bury your face in his chest, but Junmyeon just laughed, a deep, victorious sound that echoed down the street. He didn’t look embarrassed at all; if anything, he looked proud. He kept one arm firmly around your waist and used his free hand to give the girls a polite wave.
“Do you ladies need a ride?” he called out, his voice smooth and perfectly composed. “The taxi seems to be waiting.”
Sora blinked rapidly, looking at Hana, who looked at Minji. They looked like they were trying to decide if the cocktails had been laced with hallucinogens. Without a single word, they scrambled into the back of their taxi with the speed of people fleeing a crime scene. Minji gave you one final, wide-eyed “we are talking about this” look before the door slammed shut and the car sped away.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned into his chest, though you were smiling. “They saw everything! They’re never gonna let me live this down!”
“Let them talk,” Junmyeon said softly, smiling, hiding you in a warm hug.
The morning sun filtered through the cracks of the blinds, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom.
When your eyes flickered open, the first thing you registered was the steady, rhythmic rise and fall beneath your cheek. You were completely buried against Junmyeon’s bare chest, the skin-to-skin contact sending an immediate rush of warmth straight to your toes.
For a second, it was just peaceful. And then, the memories of last night hit you like a high-speed train.
Your cheeks instantly burned. A wave of pure, unadulterated embarrassment crashed over you. Desperate to escape reality, you scrambled backward and threw the duvet and sheets completely over your head.
Unfortunately, your sudden, frantic rustling of the blankets completely broke the morning quiet.
Beside you, a low, gravelly morning rumble vibrated through the mattress. Junmyeon stirred, shifting as the blankets were yanked away from him. When you peeked through a tiny gap in the sheets, you saw him blinking sleepily, his dark hair a messy, adorable halo around his face. But the moment his eyes adjusted to the room, a soft, incredibly warm smile broke across his face. He didn’t look annoyed at all; he looked completely enchanted.
As you tried to shrink further into the mattress, you suddenly noticed what you were wearing. It was a dark, oversized t-shirt—the exact same one Junmyeon had been wearing last night. Your mind went entirely blank. The absolute lack of memory only made your face burn hotter.
“Good morning, love,” Junmyeon murmured, his voice thick and deep with sleep. He shifted closer, reaching out a long arm to gently tug at the edge of the duvet you were hoarding. “Hiding from me this early?”
Panicking, you immediately closed your eyes tight, freezing your muscles and trying to force your breathing into a slow, rhythmic pattern.
A soft, amused chuckle echoed from beside you. Junmyeon didn’t buy it for a single second.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand resting gently on your hip over the fabric of his shirt. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the outside of your blanket cocoon. “You’re a brilliant marketing strategist, but you’re a terrible actress.”
You held your breath, refusing to move, determined to commit to the bit even as your heart hammered wildly against your ribs.
“Still asleep, huh?” Junmyeon teased, his voice humming with affection. “That’s a shame. I guess I’ll just have to wait here—”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Junmyeon reached over, his arm stretching out from under the covers to grab the device. He unlocked the screen, his eyes scanning the display as a look of pure, mischievous delight washed over his face.
“Oh… look at that,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s your friends. They’re demanding to know if you survived the night.”
You froze beneath your blanket cocoon, your eyes flying open in sheer horror.
“They seem really worried,” Junmyeon continued, his thumb hovering over the screen. “As a responsible ally. I’ll just reply for you. Let’s see... ‘Morning girls, I’m completely fine and with my handsome boy—’”
“No! Don’t you dare!”
Panic completely overrode your embarrassment. You burst out of your duvet cocoon like a rocket, lunging across the mattress to snatch the device out of his hand. But Junmyeon, already shifted and sat up against the headboard, was entirely prepared for your counter-attack. He smirked and lifted his arm high in the air, keeping the screen far out of your reach.
In your sheer panic to stop him from typing, you lunged forward, your knees sliding across the tangled sheets until you climbed right over him, ending up sitting squarely on his lap. The sudden shift in gravity brought you face-to-face, your chests nearly pressing together.
Junmyeon’s arms instinctively came up to steady you, his hands resting securely on your waist to make sure you didn’t lose your balance and slide off. His eyes darkened with a sudden, intense warmth, tracking the flush that crept from your cheeks all the way down your neck. With a soft, surrendered chuckle, he lowered his high arm and placed the phone right into your hand.
You blinked, looking down at the screen, only to realize it was just his homescreen. No group chat. No texts.
“You...” you gasped, your fingers tightening around the device before leaving it aside. “This isn’t even my phone!”
“Tactical strategy, love,” he countered softly, his thumbs lazily tracing small circles against your waist, anchoring you to his lap.
You groaned, entirely defeated. With nowhere left to hide, you simply let your posture collapse forward, dropping your forehead against his bare shoulder and burying your face in his neck. “Ugh… I hate you. I actually hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t,” Junmyeon whispered, enjoying every second.
His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he sat there, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. He leaned his head sideways, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your burning cheek, then another to the crown of your head, before his fingers gently guided your chin up to meet his lips. The kiss was slow, warm, and filled with a deep, quiet relief that made your heart skip a beat.
When he finally pulled back, still holding you tightly, Junmyeon was looking at you with a smile so bright and genuinely joyful that all your panic completely melted away. “So,” he murmured, “you remember what happened last night.”
“Of course,” you mumbled, a helpless smile finally breaking through as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t remember?” You gave him a quick kiss that made him smile.
“Y’know,” he whispered. “Last night, before you called me, I really thought I’d ruined everything.”
You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “You really thought I wouldn’t call?”
Junmyeon nodded, a little bit embarrassed. “I thought I’d pushed you too far,” he admitted, his expression softening into something raw. “I was ready to come to your door again and stay there until you either talked to me or called security.”
You let out a soft, breathy laugh, hiding your face in his neck. “I’d have probably called security.”
“Sounds like you,” he chuckled, his arm tightening around your waist. “But then you called. When I heard your voice, I just needed to make sure you were okay. I needed to see you.”
“I missed you,” you confessed; the words slipped out of your mouth without you even thinking about it.
The immense happiness was reflected on his face. Junmyeon sighed, a long, contented sound that felt like he was finally letting go of a heavy weight. His arms wrapped around you more tightly, until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you. “I missed you too, gorgeous.”
“You’re gonna suffocate me,” you teased, trying not to laugh. “Kim… let me breathe!”
“Never!” he protested, kissing your temple. “I can’t let you go after you stole my favorite shirt.”
“I stole it?” you asked, raising your voice in surprise—enough to make your cheeks flush again. You looked at him with genuine shock, getting caught with your lack of memories.
“You don’t remember?”
Junmyeon froze for a split second, a low, rumbling chuckle starting deep in his chest. It quickly turned into a full-blown laugh, and he hid his face in your neck, his broad shoulders shaking while you glared at him, your embarrassment skyrocketing by the second.
“What?” you demanded, smacking his bare arm softly. “What did I do, Kim? Tell me!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, finally lifting his head so he could look down at your flushed face.
“So, last night, after we got here, I got you onto the bed to get you some water. But you were completely compromised by whatever you drank. You sat up, looked at me, and decided you wanted to be... very close to me. Like, zero space between us.”
Your eyes widened as a horrible realization began to dawn on you.
“You started taking your own clothes off,” Junmyeon confessed, a completely fond, helpless smirk on his lips. “You were actively discarding the hoodie, your skirt, your blouse, trying to drag me down with you. And as much as I am completely, utterly helpless around you, I am not a monster. I refused to do anything that you wouldn’t fully remember the next morning. So I tried to stop you.”
“Oh my god…” you whispered, pulling the sheets all the way up to your nose, wanting the mattress to open up and swallow you whole.
“But you,” Junmyeon continued, his thumb reaching out to gently tug the sheets down so he could see your burning cheeks, “are a fiercely stubborn woman when you want something. Since I wouldn’t let you take your clothes off, you decided to take mine off instead. You literally grabbed my shirt and yanked it right over my head.”
You groaned loudly, covering your face with your hands.
“I didn’t even fight you on it,” he chuckled softly, his voice dropping into that warm, velvet register. “But since you were sitting there in just your underwear, shivering but refusing to admit it, I took my shirt and slid it right over your head to keep you warm. And the funniest part? You didn’t even protest. You looked up at me with these big, sleepy eyes, and mumbled that it was yours now.”
Junmyeon’s gaze softened into pure, unadulterated adoration as he looked at you now, his hand sliding to rest securely on your waist.
“You wrapped your arms around me like a koala and wouldn’t let go,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your chin. “You insisted that you wanted me closer, so when I hugged you, you slept like a baby the entire night.” He smiled, his face inches from yours, enjoying your utterly flustered state. “I didn’t know you could be so needy, love. I loved it.”
You stared at him from behind your hands, your fingers peeking open just enough to see the absolute warmth radiating from his eyes. “I am never, ever drinking tequila again,” you whimpered, your voice muffled. “My reputation is entirely ruined.”
His fingers found your hands just to intertwine them with his, giving you a small peck. “Fuck that,” he whispered. “I just care about you. Tequila or sober, bratty or needy—I want all of it. Every single version of you.”
“Ugh… you’re too romantic for your own good, Kim,” you whispered, a soft, genuine smile breaking across your lips.
“Anything for my girlfriend.” He kissed your knuckles.
Girlfriend.
A massive, overwhelming wave of pure happiness rushed through your chest, so intense it almost made you dizzy—but right on its heels came that stubborn, defensive instinct. You narrowed your eyes, instantly shifting into a full, sulky brat mode. You deliberately crossed your arms, puffing out your chest and leaning back just enough to look down at him.
“Excuse me?” you scoffed, your voice dripping with artificial disdain as you pouted. “Who said I am your girlfriend, Kim?”
Junmyeon didn’t look offended at all. In fact, his smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He absolutely adored it when you got like this. The fiery, sharp-tongued attitude that usually terrified the marketing department was, to him, the most endearing thing in the world. He loved the challenge of you, the way you refused to just bend to his will.
“Oh? Let me see if I can persuade you,” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, dangerously register.
You tilted your head, your lips curving into a daring, deliberate smirk. “Oh, really?” you teased, your voice a playful, sultry challenge. “And how exactly do you plan on convincing me, Kim? Because I’m a very tough negotiator, and so far, your arguments are entirely lacking in—”
You didn’t even get to finish the word.
With a sudden burst of energy, Junmyeon gripped your waist and flipped your positions in one smooth, practiced motion. Before you could even gasp, you were flat on your back against the mattress, and Junmyeon was hovering directly over you, trapping your body beneath his.
“Junmyeon!” you gasped, your sulky facade instantly cracking into a giggle from pure surprise.
“I have plenty of arguments,” he whispered against your skin, smirking.
His fingers slid beneath the fabric of his oversized t-shirt, tracing the sensitive curve of your waist, moving higher, then lower, his palms warm and demanding against your soft skin. He knew exactly where you were ticklish, and exactly how to make you lose your breath. You found yourself half-laughing, half-whining, wriggling beneath him in a useless attempt to escape the delicious torment of his touch.
“Jun—Junmyeon, stop! That’s cheating!” you gasped out between giggles, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned down and began kissing you messily—pecking your burning cheeks, your jawline, the sensitive skin of your neck, and finally smothering your laughter with a deep, chaotic, breathless kiss on your lips.
Any lingering desire to fight him completely vanished. Your arms instinctively reached up to wrap tightly around his neck, pulling him down until his weight was completely crushing you into the soft mattress.
Junmyeon slowly pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving, looking down into your eyes. “I want to do this right,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
You could sense he was nervous, trying to find the right words. “Last night, when I heard you, my entire world clicked into place. I’ve spent the last year pretending that arguing with you was just about work, but the truth is, I was just… desperate for your attention,” he admitted. “You’re the only person who truly sees me. You challenge me, you ground me, you… you even bother me! But that makes me happy. Really happy.” He smiled, looking at you.
His honesty was reflected in his eyes; it seemed as if he were pouring his heart out in the sincerest way. You couldn’t deny that it made your heart flutter. You smiled, stroking his cheek gently, letting him continue.
“I want my life to keep feeling that way. With you.”
“Junmyeon…”
“Will you do me the absolute honor of being my girlfriend?”
You looked up at him, your chest aching with a love so profound it felt completely overwhelming. The playful, sulky brat from a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by a radiant, breathless smile that you couldn’t have hidden if you tried.
You wrapped your arms securely around his neck to pull him down and gave him a peck. “Yes,” you whispered against his lips, your heart hammering happily. “A thousand times, yes, Kim.”
Junmyeon let out a soft, shaky breath of pure relief and closed the distance, burying his smile in a slow, deep kiss that felt like a quiet vow between the two of you.
“But don’t you ever think I’d let you win this month!” you warned as soon as you pulled away from his lips. “That free weekend is mine!”
He chuckled softly, certainly loving that ridiculous rivalry you two had. “I am winning, love. By 5 sales, actually.” He announced with that smirk he showed just when he’s literally over you on the list, trying to end the discussion with another kiss.
“You cheated again!” you fought back, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him growl.
“Hey!” But he wasn’t mad at all; Junmyeon was the happiest man alive, and he really showed it. “You’ll pay for it.”
He leaned down and captured your lips again, effectively cutting you off from your next complaint. His hands explored your skin, leaving your panties aside in a quick move, making you both giggle as your fingertips slid across his back.
“I’m counting on it, Kim.”
a/note: if you've made it this far, let me thank you for taking the time to read this and for loving ewb as much as i do. for various reasons, i was feeling pretty unmotivated and i even thought that the first part would be my last fic for a long time, but receiving such lovely comments really lifted my spirits and motivated me to write again. truly, thank you so much. i love you all <3
✧˚ ⋆｡˚ #madeinmyeon masterlist Ი︵𐑼
