Hi I'm Kaykay (or just Kay) I'm 22 ~ Sagittarius, ENFJ
Music speaks to me, so I listen to music basically every time I can
I like to read a lot, I enjoy reading fanfics at night (that's why I put the "night" in my username) so I'll be reblogging those that I feel like a lot of people should read. I mostly read kpop fics, so there's that
I try to spread only nice thoughts and positive energy so let's try to keep that way pls
I listen music basically all day long, here's my spotify
Summary: Your bi-weekly movie nights with Taehyung had always been the safest part of your life, until the night a forgotten promise dragged you both to a housewarming party instead. What should have been just another evening between best friends slowly unravels when a single mandarin and one honest confession shift the air between you. After so many years of pretending nothing has changed, one night might be all it takes to finally peel back the layers.
Genre: Non idol au, smut with some plot, best friends to lovers.
Warnings: Taehyung has a praise kink and he’s so in love. This story came to me in a dream, so if it's a little crazy, just go with it!
WC: 13k
You were never the type of person to change plans on such short notice, especially not when it came to your hang outs with Taehyung. When both of your grown up jobs and separate social circles kept you busy and apart, your bi-weekly meet-ups were precious for the both of you.
But you just could not escape tonight.
Tae had been your best friend for longer than you could remember, starting somewhere when you were both still in high school and he made fun of your fruit-shaped erasers. Back then he hadn’t been as careful with his words and his comment about your tangerine-looking school supply had embarrassed you, and you replaced the orange thing with a regular, boring blue and red eraser that smelled of nothing but rubber.
He’d still been sensitive enough to notice the change, and the very next day you came into the classroom to find a brand new grape-scented gel pen and a notepad with strawberry prints. Not to mention the brand new deskmate in the form of a bowl-cut teenager Tae.
He’d been handsome and charming even then, but nothing compared to the thirty year old version of him which now sat next to you inside his car.
“We don't have to stay long, I swear.” you told him from the passenger’s seat, more than a little guilty for making you both miss the movie tonight. “I really forgot I promised May I'd come tonight.”
“Babe, it's fine.” Taehyung chuckled under his breath, following the GPS and taking a smooth right turn. “I didn’t complain once about this.”
“I know. You never complain.” which somehow made you feel worse.
“As long as we get to hang out, I don't care.” he shrugged, carefree and gentle as always.
“Okay.”
“Just relax.” he laughed again, placing his warm palm on your thigh, which did the opposite of relaxing you. “Is this the house?”
You pointed to the next house over through the windshield. “It's the next one, but we can park here and walk up.”
You could already see a few cars that you knew belonged to your friends and their friends, in front of May’s newly acquired home. Taehyung saw the same parking spot you had noticed and used one hand to parallel park in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it was.
You even had to distract yourself by checking the road, trying to keep busy and useful, with little hints of ‘a little more to the right’ and ‘now two inches ahead’, which he absolutely did not need. But you needed it, because focusing on how his biceps bulged every time he maneuvered and noticing the veins of his forearm would do very little for your mental health right now.
“Can you reach the flowers in the back?” Taehyung asked as he turned off the engine of the car.
“I think so.” you unbuckled your seatbelt.
As you reached through the space between your seat and the driver’s, carefully reaching for the pretty flowers you bought to bring tonight, Taehyung got out of the car and ran to your side to open the door for you. And you knew him long enough to know he’d planned for this.
“And they say chivalry is dead.” you mused, letting him help you hop off with a familiar hand at your waist.
“‘They’ sound dumb.” Taehyung grinned, proud of himself.
You let him take the flowers from you, just so you could fix your dress that had moved up during the ride and the hop; it was still a nice dress that didn’t uncover much of your skin if you were standing. Definitely not ‘movies appropriate’, but perfect for a housewarming party such as this one.
May had promised you that it wouldn’t be a party at all, but a get together so she could show off her new place to her closest friends. Which definitely included you, but maybe not your plus one.
Even if the man himself looked sinful in simple blue jeans, a white shirt and red jacket with fun patches you knew he’d ironed in during a moment of fashion boredom. It also didn’t help your case that he’d styled his hair tonight in messy little waves that sat away from his forehead, when you told him once this week that you liked that look on him.
The walk from the car to the right house was a short one, not enough for your feet to hurt in your heels, and much less for you to get lost, but Taehyung still stood next to you like you were about to get too far away from him.
“Do you think we need to knock?” you asked once you reached the front door, hearing laughs and music from the inside.
“It's your friend's housewarming, you tell me.” he said, handing you the flowers so you could be the one to deliver them.
“I think we're good.” you decided.
You turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked, and let yourself and Taehyung in. The small mountain of shoes at the entrance told you this was a no-shoes new house, and you were thankful for taking off your heels before your feet started to hurt too much. Taehyung was taking off his red sneakers when you heard a squeal.
“There she is!” May showed up at the entrance of the living room, looking gorgeous with a pink dress that looked like a cloud.
“Was ‘cotton candy’ the theme for tonight?” you laughed, rushing to meet her and offer her a hug.
“The theme is ‘this is my new house and I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want’.” she shrugged, taking the flowers with the biggest smile. “You brought me flowers!”
“Your real gift is being delivered later this week.” you told her, as if flowers weren’t an appropriate gift for an achievement like this.
May was about to wave you off, to tell you not to worry, but then she saw something over your shoulder, which made her jaw drop. At least she had the common sense to whisper her next question: “You brought Taehyung?”
“Is that okay?” you asked, even if you already knew the answer.
“Just don't drool on my new carpet.” she teased, pushing past you to hug your friend. “Hey, Taetae, long time, huh? Feel right at home!”
“Thanks, May-ssi.” Taehyung hugged her back, but his hands still looked for the spaces on her body that were covered by her dress. “I like what you did with the place.”
“You should see upstairs.” she winked, walking ahead and leading the two of you to where the others were hanging out.
“Seriously, the spare room is going to see me more often than my boyfriend's couch.” Jimin was sitting on the arm of a chair he was sharing with Seokjin; both men were your friends you met in college.
“If it has a bed, then it definitely should.” you snorted, wondering which ‘boyfriend’ Jimin meant this time. You hoped it was Hoseok, but the couch mentioned made you guess it was probably Jungkook. “Did we miss the tour?”
“Just the first round, I'll take you around later.” May explained, grabbing you by the wrist and waving Jimin to follow. “We're about to make margaritas in my new blender.”
“Oh, nice.”
You didn’t feel like separating from Taehyung right now, especially when you knew he’d be the odd man out; even if he’d already been introduced to everyone in the house at least once before and he was the social butterfly out of the two of you. You only let May and Jimin lead you away because Namjoon was already getting up to greet Taehyung in that little half-hug, half-pat on the back that boys do when they are pretending to be more familiar than they actually are.
The kitchen was definitely a feature area in the house, just a little ahead from the living room, but still close enough that you could see everything. It was much bigger than May’s old one, and everything looked brand new. It made you really proud of the girl, when you knew she had been saving for years after living in a shoe-box apartment so she could splurge like this.
“Wow, you even have a kitchen island!” you gushed, knowing it had been one of the deal makers for her to get this place.
“I knoooow, she’s my baby!” May caressed the island with light hands, as if a harsher touch could actually scratch the marble.
“She’s very pretty.” you entered the kitchen to help out making the drinks.
May immediately claimed the spot in front of the blender like a mother hen, peeling the plastic off one last button you hadn’t even noticed still had a corner lifting, while Jimin laughed and reached for the bag of ice on the counter.
You grabbed the limes and started cutting them in halves with the help of a cutting board, the clean citrus smell mixing with the sharp bite of tequila the second May twisted the cap open.
“So you brought Tae, huh?” Jimin didn’t take long enough to bring it up.
“He's my best friend, it's not weird.” you justified, watching Jimin steal one of the lime wedges only to wince when the juice hit his tongue straight.
“I'm your best friend.” May corrected, spreading salt on a small plate and the ice was dumped into the pitcher.
You rolled your eyes. “He's my boy best friend.”
“Press her once more and she'll use the right word.” Jimin told May with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Stop, it's not like that.” you grumbled, looking out to the living room to make sure no one outside the kitchen was listening.
“You want it to be.” May said, and you had no arguments for her when she knew too much. “I'm just saying bringing him here tonight is a couplely move.”
“There are plenty of single people here.” you wiped your fingers on a paper towel, passed May the last lime half, and stepped closer when she started adding everything in, all three of you crowding around the blender.
“Looking to hook up with other single people.” May was not only the owner of a new house, but of very good points as well, it seemed. “Just ask Alyssa.”
You wish the mention of the girl’s name didn’t hit you square in the chest like it did. It’s not like you had anything against her, not really… She had been nothing but nice to you ever since you met, the kind of girl that lights up rooms and people write songs about. But she’d also had her eyes on Taehyung every time you brought him around.
“Alyssa is here?” you asked again, because you hadn’t seen her when you first came in.
“Worried?” Jimin asked, already knowing the answer when your shoulders dropped.
You turned around before you could stop yourself, eyes crossing the open space of the living room until they found Taehyung near the wall, one shoulder tipped back against it like he had settled there for only a second and somehow gotten stuck.
Alyssa stood close enough that it made something in your stomach pull tight, her hand brushing his arm when she laughed, head tilted just a little too prettily, the whole thing carrying that soft, easy kind of flirting girls like her never had to force. Taehyung laughed too, looking down at her with that warm attention that always did dangerous things to your insides, and even from the kitchen you could see how comfortable he looked standing there with her, how natural it seemed, and the sight hit in one clean, ugly wave that sat hot and heavy under your ribs.
May slid the blender pitcher closer to the line of cups and announced that the margaritas were done, Jimin already reaching to help pass glasses around just as Seokjin and Namjoon drifted into the kitchen like they had followed the sound of people having a better time somewhere else.
There was no big call for everyone to move, no moment made out of it, just the easy shuffle of people grabbing their drinks and heading toward the patio together, talking over one another on the way out.
You turned on instinct, your own drink already in your hand, ready to ask Taehyung if he wanted to come with you, but stopped when you caught Alyssa handing Taehyung's phone back to him, as if he’d just typed something on it. The thought landed quietly, not sharp enough to make you angry, only enough to make you step back from calling to your best friend.
Because if something was happening there, if they wanted to keep talking, then you were not about to get in the middle of it.
The backyard looked just as new as the rest of the house, a clean stone patio stretched out from the back doors, stepping down into a small square of trimmed grass bordered by dark rocks and carefully placed shrubs.
Off to one side, May had already set up a couple of outdoor couches with cream cushions that still looked too untouched, like nobody had fully broken them in yet, while a few lawn chairs were scattered around in a loose circle as if people had started claiming spots before the party even properly settled. There were tall planters near the fence, soft garden lights fixed low along the edges.
You ended up dropping into the space between Jimin and Seokjin on one of the couches, tucking one leg under yourself as you brought the margarita to your mouth for another careful sip. It had way too much tequila for your taste, the kind that burned first and tasted like lime second, so you took it slow and let the cold glass rest against your thigh between sips.
“Too strong?” Jimin asked, one look at your face giving you away.
“May still makes drinks like she was trying to disinfect us from the inside out.” you swallowed and gave the drink a suspicious look.
“That means it’s a good drink.” Seokjin let out a laugh into his own cup.
“No, it meant she lost count halfway through pouring.” you corrected with a little grimace.
“Same thing.” Jin said with a shrug.
Jimin leaned forward, whispering conspiratorily: “Give it ten minutes and Namjoon is going to start talking about real estate like he personally helped build the house.”
“I heard that–” Namjoon huffed from one of the lawn chairs where he was lounging.
“I wasn’t hiding it from you.” Jimin shot back.
You smiled into your glass, shoulders loosening a little as Seokjin bumped his knee lightly against yours.
“Remember her old apartment?” Seokjin asked.
“I still have nightmares about that bathroom.” Jimin made a face immediately. “You could brush your teeth while sitting on the toilet.”
“That was an efficient design!” you said, a little defensive even despite your laughs. That bathroom had seen a lot of your hungover mornings and it never told your secrets.
“That was poverty!” May yelled from across the patio, making all three of you laugh.
“And yet,” Seokjin went on, looking around with exaggerated seriousness, “we all still came over every weekend like we were living the free life.”
“We were twenty-two and stupid.” Jimin said with a raise of his glass.
“We were twenty-two and jobless.” you raised your own glass just to feel young again.
Jimin turned to you with fake offense all over his pretty face: “I had a job.”
“You worked at your uncle’s café two afternoons a week.” Namjoon rebutted with a scoff.
“It was still employment!” Jimin whined.
Seokjin nodded. “Part-time nepo baby.”
Jimin gasped, hand to chest, and you finally laughed around the next sip, wincing right after when the tequila hit again:
“To May’s new house.”
“To May’s new house.” you echoed, touching your glass lightly to theirs as the conversation rolled on like it always had, easy and warm and worn in from years of knowing exactly how to pull laughter out of each other.
And then you noticed him almost right away, even with the patio full enough to split your attention. Through the glass doors, Taehyung paused on the other side of the porch light, eyes moving over the backyard like he was searching for someone specific, and your heart gave one small, stupid jump the second his face changed when he found you.
It was immediate, easy to read even from where you sat. Something in him lit up, softening his whole face before he even stepped outside, and you hated what that one look did to you after everything you had just told yourself in the kitchen.
Jimin noticed too, because of course he did. He cleared his throat beside you and nudged your arm with his elbow in a way that was far too knowing to be innocent, then pushed himself up with his drink and casually abandoned his spot, moving to annoy Namjoon’s personal space.
By the time you looked back up, Taehyung was already there, catching the open space like it had always been meant to be his. He sat down beside you without hesitation, pulling off his red jacket before you could ask what he was doing, and draped it over your legs in one easy movement, covering your bare thighs and the side of your dress the night air had started getting to. The gesture was so natural it almost felt practiced.
Your eyes lifted on instinct, scanning past his shoulder, almost expecting Alyssa to appear behind him or step out onto the patio a second later, but the glass doors only showed the warm blur of people still inside, moving through the kitchen and living room with drinks of their own.
“I got this for you.” Taehyung held up a small mandarin between his fingers, and it looked almost ridiculous in his hand, bright and glossy and so much smaller than his palm that it made you smile before you could keep yourself in check.
Even from that close, you could spot the tiny hot-stamped Jeju sticker pressed onto the peel, the kind that made it obvious this was not just any fruit someone grabbed from a corner store, but from somewhere expensive.
“Where did you find that?” you chuckled, already feeling the rest of the patio blur at the edges as your attention settled fully on him.
“May’s fridge.” he shrugged, like snooping through someone’s kitchen was the most normal thing in the world.
“When she said feel at home, I don’t think that’s what she meant–”
Taehyung only shrugged, like of course he had stolen fruit out of someone else’s fridge for you, like that did not need any further explanation. Then he lowered his eyes to the mandarin and started peeling it with a care that made your chest feel strangely tight. His thumb pressed into the skin just enough to break it, the peel lifting back in soft strips under his fingers, and each little squeeze released that fresh, sweet citrus scent into the cold air between you.
You watched his hands more than you meant to, the steady way he worked, unhurried and precise, and it did something unfair to your heart when it should have been the simplest thing in the world. But it was coming from him, which made it feel like more.
With was always more with Taehyung.
Once the fruit was bare in his palm, he split off one piece and started pulling away the thin white strings clinging to it, taking his time with the same quiet focus. You knew exactly why he was doing it. He had seen you pick at them before, complaining about the texture until only the clean pulp was left.
“Damn, let the girl eat some fibers.” Seokjin said from your other side, amusement easy in his voice.
Taehyung did not even look up. “I like enabling her.”
“You’re the only one.” Seokjin shot back, the kind of teasing that had always belonged to the two of you.
Taehyung’s mouth twitched, but there was something a little firmer under it when he answered:
“She only needs one, so.” he kept going, stripping the last stubborn bit of white from the piece between his fingers like Seokjin had not said a thing.
One of the girls sitting near May let out a dramatic sound.
“That’s actually sick. My boyfriend won’t even bring me water, and you’re out here peeling the strings off too?”
Another voice laughed with her, but it all blurred a little at the edges for you. You almost waited for Taehyung to correct it, to say it was not like that, that he was just being nice. He never did. He only looked at you, the peeled piece of fruit held up near your mouth, his eyes steady enough to make your pulse trip over itself.
When you leaned in and took it with your lips, his gaze stayed there the whole time, fixed on your mouth in a way that made the sweet burst of juice feel secondary to the heat climbing up your neck.
“I’m not always on board with stealing, but this is actually really good.” you said after swallowing, still tasting the burst of sweet juice on your tongue.
Taehyung smiled under his breath like that had been the point all along, already working on the next piece before the first one had barely gone down. The orange peel, the thin white strings, even two small seeds he had picked out rested carelessly on the knees of his jeans, and he did not seem bothered by any of it.
His hands kept moving with the same quiet patience, making a mess of himself so you would not have to deal with any of it.
“Alyssa brought them for May.” he said, glancing down at the fruit as he cleaned another segment for you. “As a house gift, I think. She said they came from some farmer’s market near her place that gets them from Jeju Island.”
“Oh.”
“I asked for the guy’s number. If you want more, I can get them for you.” he gave one small shrug, like this had all been obvious.
Your stomach fluttered again at the mention of Alyssa, but this time it turned on itself almost right away, the ugly little knot loosening as fast as it had formed. You looked at him for a second, then at the fruit in his hand, and the alcohol warming your chest made your mouth move before your pride could stop it: “I thought she gave you her number.”
“Why would I need her number?” Taehyung finally looked up, eyebrows pulling together like the idea had not crossed his mind once.
“Have you looked at her?” you let out a soft scoff, trying to play it off even as your face felt warmer than it should have.
He held the next piece up to your mouth before answering, waiting until you leaned in and took it from his fingers.
“She’s not my type.” he said simply.
Jimin, who had absolutely been listening from his seat this whole time, made a delighted sound like he had just been handed gossip and dessert at the same time.
“What’s your type, Taehyung-ssi?” the man wanted to know immediately.
Taehyung did not even hesitate. He kept his eyes on the mandarin in his hands as he peeled away another stubborn string, but the corner of his mouth lifted.
“Someone who still uses gel pens to write notes and refuses to eat fiber unless it comes from popcorn.”
The reactions that followed stayed soft everywhere but under your own skin. One of the girls let out an immediate, breathy ‘aw’, another groaned like she had just witnessed something unfair, and Jimin’s mouth curved into that deeply satisfied little smile of someone who had seen this coming from ten miles away.
Beside you, Seokjin lifted his hand toward Taehyung for a high five over the boldness of the words, only to be completely ignored as Taehyung kept working on the fruit like nothing had happened.
Seokjin looked at his own hand for a second, then slapped it against his other palm himself, and that was what earned the quiet burst of laughter from the group.
“Is there something you didn’t tell us?” May asked from across the patio, narrowing her eyes at the two of you with instant suspicion. “You would tell me if you’re dating, right?”
“We’re not.” Taehyung glanced up at that, then back down to the mandarin in his hands. Something in your chest dipped before he added, just as simply: “I was hoping we would be, after tonight.”
You turned to look at him so fast your shoulder brushed his. “What?”
“Our movie date got cut short.” only then did he lift his eyes to yours, and there was nothing dramatic in his face, nothing played up for the people around you. He just looked at you openly, like this was the easiest truth in the world to say. “Now all I have left is peeling mandarins and hoping you understand what I’m doing.”
For a second, you could only stare at him.
The patio did not go silent. People were still talking around you, May was still laughing somewhere to your left, a chair scraped lightly over stone, and somebody inside the house opened one of the sliding doors just enough for a swell of music to spill out before it shut again.
But all of it felt farther away now, softened at the edges, like the whole night had folded in around the small space the two of you occupied on the patio couch.
Taehyung, meanwhile, stayed exactly where he was, knee pressed lightly to yours under the weight of his jacket still draped over your legs. He picked a seed from the next segment and dropped it onto his jeans with the rest of the mess, not caring in the slightest what he looked like.
“So,” he said, quieter now, only for you. “Did it get the point across?”
You looked at the fruit in his hand, at the white strings gathered over the blue denim on his knees, at the bright peel curled near his leg, then back at his face. He was watching you with that same open steadiness, like he was not nervous at all, like saying what he meant had never once felt unnatural to him.
Your stomach fluttered so hard it almost hurt.
“Maybe a little.” you murmured.
“A little?” his eyebrows lifted.
“You might have to keep going.” your heart was fluttering like crazy in your chest.
The grin that spread over his face came slow and warm, lighting him up in a way that made your chest squeeze all over again.
“That’s fine.” he said, already lifting the next perfect piece to your mouth. “I bought myself at least another five minutes with this one.”
You were full on expecting things to become awkward between you and Taehyung, after the small and blunt, but very honest confession that passed between the two of you, in front of all of your other friends, no less. Instead, even when it was just the two of you inside his car, his fingers smelling of mandarin juice and you smelling of the perfume that clung to his jacket you were now wearing, the mood was light.
Well, as light as it could be, now that you knew tonight was supposed to be your first date with your best friend. It was all so surreal to you, that you couldn’t find the right words to say, or even any wrong ones, just to break the silence. And Taehyung clearly noticed it, too, when he started driving away from May’s new neighborhood and said:
“Was I out of line?” his tone was low and calm, so much so that you almost missed the question.
“Huh?” you looked at him, noticing how both hands on the steering wheel now. You shook your head right away. “No, you were… You. Which, for the record, is how I like you.”
“Careful with that word now, babe.” his shoulders seemed to relax, but just a smidge. “I might think you mean it.”
“You peeled me an expensive mandarin, of course I mean it.” you chuckled, taking your own leap of faith and resting your hand on his thigh, just like he had done to you so many times before.
“That’s what did it, huh?” his right hand rested on top of yours, and as much as you’d held hands before, it never felt quite like this.
“Actually, what did it was you bribing my desk-mate to exchange places with you so you could sit by my side in school.” you told him with a new laugh, feeling the small clench of his fingers around yours. “The mandarin only reminded me you’ve always been like this with me.”
Taehyung let your words sink in, the fact that you had a crush on him for decades now. You watched his small pout disappear just as fast as it appeared, like he wondered, just for a moment, how much time you lost by being young and not knowing any better. But then he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles, like he decided no time would be wasted from now on.
“So am I dropping you off?” Taehyung asked you, and there was a lot more behind those words than you might have been expecting. “Or do I get a little more time tonight?”
“Can you peel this one for breakfast tomorrow?” you pulled the second mandarin from the jacket’s pocket, making Taehyung laugh so hard it filled the car.
“I definitely can.”
The conversation kept flowing as he drove, easy and unforced, moving from one thought to the next with the kind of rhythm that only came from knowing someone for years.
It was light, familiar, full of the little things that would have sounded meaningless to anyone else, but with him it never felt like filling silence. Your hand stayed in his over the center console, his thumb brushing yours every now and then as the city passed outside in quiet stretches of yellow light.
Nothing about it felt staged or fragile, nothing about it made you nervous in the way new things usually did for you. If anything, it felt like stepping into something that had been waiting for you both for a very long time, and now that you were finally here, there was no awkwardness to it at all.
The walk from the car to the elevator of his building was quiet, your heels clicking softly beside his sneakers. His red jacket still hung over your shoulders, carrying his warmth and that faint cologne you’d known for years. Taehyung kept one hand lightly at the small of your back, guiding you without any real pressure, like he just needed the contact.
Inside the elevator, the doors slid shut and the soft hum filled the small space. You leaned against the mirrored wall, watching him press the button for his floor. When he turned back to you, the air felt thicker. He stepped closer, not quite crowding you, but close enough that you could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the faint citrus still clinging to his fingers.
“Hi.” he murmured, almost silly after everything tonight.
“Hi.” you whispered back, biting down on a smile.
The elevator dinged far too soon. Taehyung took your hand again as you stepped out into the quiet hallway, his thumb brushing your knuckles the whole way to his door.
He unlocked it with one hand, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first. The familiar scent of his apartment wrapped around you, clean laundry, a hint of sandalwood, and something that was just undeniably him. You kicked off your heels by the door out of habit, toes sinking into the soft rug. Taehyung followed, toeing off his red sneakers and setting them neatly beside yours like they belonged there.
The click of the door closing behind him sounded louder than it should have.
For a second you both just stood there in the entryway, the weight of the night settling around you. Then Taehyung moved.
One hand came up to rest on the door beside your head, the other gently cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. He stepped in until his body was only a breath away from yours, caging you in without trapping you; tall, warm, and so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest through his white shirt.
His eyes searched yours, dark and steady, a tiny furrow between his brows like he was holding his breath.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “But if it feels wrong… if it’s awkward… we stop. We go back to mandarins and movie nights and I’ll still be the happiest guy in the world just being your best friend. Okay?”
Your heart was hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You nodded, swallowing past the flutter in your throat.
“Okay.”
Taehyung leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His nose brushed yours first, soft and tentative. Then his lips touched yours, gentle and warm, testing. The first press was feather-light, almost careful, like he was afraid the years between you might shatter if he pushed too hard.
For one heartbeat it felt like the world held its breath with you.
Then something clicked.
His lips moved against yours with quiet certainty, tilting his head just enough to fit better, and the kiss deepened naturally, sweetly, like breathing. There was no awkwardness, no clash of noses or hesitation in rhythm. Just warmth, the faint taste of mandarin and the way his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair.
A soft sound escaped you, half sigh, half relief, and Taehyung answered it with a tiny, involuntary hum against your mouth, like the tension he’d been carrying for years finally unraveled.
When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing a little faster, his eyes were shining.
“Fuck.” he whispered, a soft laugh coloring the word. “That didn’t feel like breaking anything.”
“No… it felt like finally starting.” you let out a shaky laugh too, your hands having found their way to his chest at some point, fingers curled into his shirt.
His thumb brushed your bottom lip, eyes following the motion with open wonder.
“Yeah,” he murmured, voice warm and a little rough. “Yeah.”
He kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, but still unhurried, like he wanted to memorize every second of it. One hand stayed at the back of your neck, the other sliding down to your waist, pulling you gently closer until your bodies pressed together. The kiss stayed sweet, but there was a quiet thrill underneath it now, a spark that made your stomach flip and your fingers tighten in his shirt.
When you finally parted, Taehyung didn’t step back. He stayed right there, caged around you against the door, smiling that small, private smile you’d only ever seen aimed at you.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh: “We just kissed.”
“We did.” he whispered back, eyes crinkling with quiet joy. His thumb brushed your cheek again, like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to do that now. “And it was… good. Really good.”
“Really good.” you echoed, feeling giddy and warm all over.
Taehyung pressed one last gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before finally stepping back just enough to let you breathe. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together, and tugged you gently away from the door.
“Come here.” he said, voice soft and a little shy as he led you down the short hallway into the living room.
The space was familiar just like the rest of the apartment, the big comfortable couch you’d both fallen asleep on during countless movie nights, the low lamp casting a warm glow that never seemed to be turned off, no matter how much you pointed out his energy bill.
You both dropped onto the couch, knees bumping, and suddenly the giggles hit. Soft, unstoppable little laughs that came from pure relief and disbelief.
“I can’t believe you’re finally my girl.” Taehyung laughed under his breath, and if it was anyone else saying those words, you would have cringed. But it was Tae, so the words landed so sweetly that your chest fluttered hard.
“Your girl?” you repeated, teasing but unable to hide how much you liked hearing it.
“Yeah.” he sounded almost shy now, the confident Taehyung from the patio giving way to the boy who once bought you a grape gel pen just to make up for embarrassing you. “If you want to be.”
The moment stretched tender and sweet between you until Taehyung’s expression shifted into something more careful, more concerned.
“Hey… you’re not drunk, right?” he asked, brows furrowing slightly. “May’s margaritas are no joke. You said they were strong.”
“I’m fine, Tae. I barely drank half of it.” you shook your head quickly, smiling at how thoughtful he was even now. “The tequila hit hard at first, but I’m perfectly sober, I promise.”
“Okay. But just in case… wait here.” he studied your face for a second longer, then nodded, still looking a little protective.
Before you could protest, he stood up and headed toward the kitchen, his socked feet quiet on the floor.
While he was gone, you shrugged off his red jacket, folding it neatly and laying it over the arm of the couch. The cool air of the apartment brushed against your skin now that you were no longer covered by the heavy fabric. Your dress suddenly felt a little shorter, a little more revealing than it had all night, the neckline sitting lower, the hem riding up just enough on your thighs as you sat with your legs tucked under you.
You were suddenly very aware of how much you were showing, and even more aware that Taehyung would notice the second he came back.
The thought sent another flutter through your stomach, nervous, but the good kind.
You heard the fridge door close, the soft clink of a glass bottle, and then his footsteps returning. When Taehyung stepped back into the living room with the cold bottle of water in hand, his eyes did exactly what you expected: they flicked down to your bare shoulders, the curve of your collarbones, the way the dress now clung a little differently without the jacket hiding you.
He paused for half a second, throat working as he swallowed. Then he cleared it softly and continued toward you, handing you the water with a small, warm smile that didn’t quite hide the new heat in his gaze.
“Here.” he said, voice a touch lower than before. “Drink some.”
You took the cold bottle from him, your fingers brushing his in a way that felt more intentional now. The first sip of water was refreshing against the lingering warmth of the margarita and the heat still blooming under your skin from his kisses. Taehyung watched you the whole time, eyes soft but noticeably darker as they traced the line of your throat and then dropped lower.
“You look really pretty like this.” he cleared his throat quietly, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.
“Like what?” you asked, teasing even though your cheeks warmed.
“Without my jacket hiding you.” his gaze flicked down again, then back to your face, almost apologetic. “I don’t know where to put my hands now.”
The honest admission made you laugh softly, the sound light and affectionate. You set the water on the coffee table and shifted closer on the couch until your knees pressed together.
“You can put them on me, Tae.” you told him easily. “We’re not exactly strangers.”
He let out a breath that sounded half-relieved, half-nervous, and reached for you. One warm palm settled carefully on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your dress, while the other came up to cup the side of your neck. His thumb stroked your skin in slow, soothing circles. The touch was gentle, still testing, like he was giving you every chance to guide him or slow him down.
For a moment you just sat there like that, sitting close, breathing each other in, the quiet hum of the apartment wrapping around you. Then Taehyung’s eyes drifted to the side, landing on the second mandarin you’d pulled from his jacket pocket earlier and left on the coffee table.
A small, fond smile crossed his face.
“I know you said you wanted that for breakfast, but you can have it now, if you’re hungry. We didn’t eat much tonight.” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. “You want me to peel it?”
You nodded, biting your lip to hide how much the simple offer affected you. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
He picked up the fruit with the hand that had been on your neck, but his fingers were noticeably less steady than they’d been on the patio, a faint tremble as he started working the peel. The citrus scent bloomed between you again, sharp and sweet, mixing with the warm sandalwood of his apartment.
You watched his hands, the way his long fingers pressed into the skin, peeling it back in careful strips. Juice glistened on his fingertips, and every now and then his eyes would flick up to yours, checking, wanting.
When he finally split off a clean segment and began pulling away the thin white strings with the same patient focus as before, you felt the familiar flutter low in your stomach, only stronger now, heavier with everything that had already changed tonight.
Taehyung held the piece up between you, offering it like he had on the patio. But this time, instead of simply taking it with your lips, you leaned forward and closed your mouth around it… and around the tips of his fingers.
The juice burst sweet across your tongue. You let your lips linger for a second longer than necessary, tongue brushing softly against his skin to catch the sticky citrus that clung there. Your eyes stayed locked on his the whole time, wide, warm, and a little daring.
Taehyung’s breath hitched sharply. His whole body went still except for the faint tremor that ran through the hand still resting on your thigh. His pupils blew wide, dark and stunned, as he watched you slowly pull back, lips sliding off his fingers with one last gentle swipe of your tongue.
“You can’t do this to me…” he whispered, voice hoarse and wrecked in the softest way. The words came out almost like a plea, but his eyes were shining with pure want. “Not after waiting this long. Not when you look at me like that.”
The air between you felt heavier now, thicker with the citrus scent still clinging to his fingers and the quiet sound of your breathing. You smiled, a little shy, a little bold, and licked your lips once more just to watch the way his gaze followed the motion.
Before you could say anything, Taehyung’s voice dropped even lower, warm and curious.
“Let me have a taste too.” he murmured, eyes flicking from your mouth back to the half-peeled mandarin in his hand. “See what all the fuss is about.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he broke off another small segment, but this time he didn’t offer it to you. He popped it into his own mouth first, chewing slowly, juice glistening on his lower lip. Then he leaned in, one hand still resting high on your thigh.
The kiss started soft again, like you were learning he liked, just the press of his lips against yours, but the moment his tongue traced the seam of your mouth, it deepened into something far more sensual.
He tasted like sweet mandarin and warmth, and he explored you unhurriedly, like he wanted to learn every detail. Taehyung’s teeth caught your bottom lip in a gentle nibble, tugging lightly before soothing it with his tongue. You sighed into him, and he answered by sucking softly on your tongue, slow and drawing another quiet sound from your throat.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up into his messy waves, fingers threading through the soft strands and tugging just enough to make him hum against your mouth. The vibration sent a shiver down your spine. Taehyung’s free hand didn’t stay still either, it slipped beneath the hem of your dress, palm gliding slowly up the bare skin of your thigh, stopping just short of where the fabric ended higher up. His thumb stroked lazy circles there, teasing the edge of your underwear without pushing further, like he was still giving you every chance to set the pace.
Tae pulled back just enough to breathe, lips brushing yours with every word:
“God, you taste even better like this.” he whispered, voice rough and shaky with want. His fingers flexed gently on your thigh, the other hand still tangled in your hair. “Tell me if I’m going too fast, okay? I just… I’ve thought about kissing you for so long. Touching you.”
You answered by pulling him back in, your own hands tightening in his hair as the kiss picked up again, deeper, slower, more exploratory. His palm slid a little higher under your dress, the heat of his touch making your stomach tighten with anticipation, while your fingers scratched lightly at his scalp, earning you another low, pleased sound from deep in his chest.
Everything stayed tender, but the spark from the mandarin moment had ignited into a slow-burning flame that was quickly becoming impossible to ignore.
You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, chest rising and falling quickly. Taehyung’s eyes were dark, lips slightly swollen, hair deliciously messed up from your fingers. His hand was still warm under the hem of your dress, resting high on your thigh, but you wanted it closer.
“Stand up for me?” he asked softly, voice husky but gentle, like he was still checking if this was okay.
You nodded, heart hammering. He helped you to your feet, both of you rising from the couch in one fluid motion. Once you were standing, Taehyung stayed seated for a second longer, looking up at you with open wonder. Then he rose too, tall frame unfolding until he towered over you, broad shoulders and warm presence making the space between you feel smaller in the best way.
His hands found your waist first, steady and warm.
“Can I…?” he murmured, fingers brushing the zipper at the side of your dress.
“Yes.” you whispered.
He pulled the zipper down slowly, the soft sound loud in the quiet room. The fabric loosened, and with careful hands he eased the dress off your shoulders. It slid down your body and pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your panties. No bra, the cool air kissing your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze.
Taehyung’s breath caught audibly. His eyes dropped to your bare breasts, dark and appreciative, lingering.
“Fuck… you’re beautiful.” he said, almost under his breath, like the words slipped out before he could stop them. One large hand came up, hesitating just a moment before his palm gently cupped the underside of one breast, thumb brushing over the soft curve. “I didn’t know… God, I didn’t know you were this perfect.”
The size difference hit you then, him standing so close, so much taller, his broad frame making you feel small and cherished all at once. You swallowed, warmth flooding your cheeks and lower belly.
Taehyung seemed to notice the effect too. A small, almost shy smile touched his lips as he looked down at you, one hand still on your breast, the other resting at your waist. “Look at you.” he murmured, voice low, like he knew exactly what to say to undo you. “So small next to me… and still driving me crazy.”
“You’re not exactly small yourself, Tae.” you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped, even as your pulse raced.
His grin widened for a second, warm and affectionate, before he stepped back just enough to reach behind his neck and tug his white shirt off in one smooth motion. The fabric hit the floor beside your dress. Your eyes drank him in; the smooth, tanned planes of his chest, the subtle definition of his stomach, the way his shoulders looked even broader without anything covering them. You had seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never with permission to stare. Never with the knowledge that you could touch.
For a long moment you simply stood there, staring at each other in the soft lamplight. The tension was thick, palpable, crackling in the silence. His eyes traced every inch of your bare skin; yours did the same to him, the faint trail of hair disappearing into his jeans, the way his chest rose and fell a little faster now, the obvious bulge pressing against the front of his pants.
Taehyung was the first to move. He took your hand and guided you back toward the couch, his touch gentle despite the heat in his gaze. “Come here, my girl.”
He eased you down onto your back, following you so he settled between your parted legs. The couch was wide enough that he could brace himself on one forearm without crushing you, his body covering yours in warm, delicious weight. The moment he lowered himself, you felt the hard line of his cock press against your core through the thin layers of fabric still separating you, denim against lace, hot and insistent.
A soft gasp left your lips at the contact.
Taehyung groaned quietly, forehead dropping to your collarbones.
“Sorry… you just feel so good already.” he rolled his hips once, slow and lazy, letting you feel him fully. Then he captured your mouth again in a heated, unhurried kiss.
This kiss was lazier than the ones before, deeper and more indulgent. His tongue slid against yours in slow strokes, occasionally pulling back to nibble at your bottom lip or suck gently on your tongue the way you were quickly learning he loved. Your hands roamed freely now, one threading back into his messy waves, the other sliding down the warm, bare skin of his back, feeling the muscles shift under your palms as he moved.
Tae’s own hands weren’t idle. One stayed at your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it tightened under his touch. The other slipped between your bodies, palm gliding up your inner thigh until his fingers brushed the edge of your panties, teasing without rushing. All the while he kept that slow, grinding rhythm against you, his cock pressing and rubbing right where you needed him most through the fabric.
Every roll of his hips sent sparks through you. Every sigh and quiet moan he drew from your mouth seemed to make him hungrier, yet he never hurried, like he wanted to savor every second of finally having you like this.
“Been dreaming about this… having you under me. Feeling you like this.” his voice was low and rough against your lips, every word punctuated by another slow roll of his hips that pressed his cock harder against your clothed pussy.
You whimpered softly, fingers tightening in his hair, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.
Taehyung kissed you once more, deep and lingering, before he began to trail his mouth downward. He took his time, lips brushing along your jaw, then the sensitive spot just below your ear. When he reached your neck he sucked lightly, then harder, leaving a faint mark that made your breath hitch. Lower still, his mouth found your collarbone, then the swell of your breast.
He groaned the moment his lips closed around your nipple, warm and wet. He sucked gently at first, tongue swirling around the peaked bud, then with more intention in slow, rhythmic pulls that had your back arching off the couch.
A soft cry escaped you when he grazed his teeth over the sensitive flesh, followed immediately by soothing licks. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and biting until the skin flushed and bore faint red marks that would bloom later. His free hand kneaded the breast he wasn’t attending to, thumb flicking over the wet nipple he’d just released.
Every pull of his mouth sent sparks straight between your legs. You writhed beneath him, one hand still tangled in his messy waves, the other gripping his shoulder as your hips rolled up instinctively, seeking more friction.
Taehyung hummed in satisfaction against your skin, the vibration traveling through you. He kissed a slow, wet path down the center of your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel, making you giggle breathlessly before the sound melted into another moan. When he reached the waistband of your panties, he looked up at you through dark lashes, eyes gleaming with heat and quiet awe.
His hand slipped beneath the lace without warning, two long fingers gliding through your folds. The moment he felt how slick you were, a low, pleased sound rumbled in his chest.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” he murmured, voice thick with wonder. His fingers teased your entrance, circling slowly, spreading the wetness up to your clit without quite giving you the pressure you craved. “All this for me? Been thinking about me like this too?”
You nodded frantically, hips twitching under his touch. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable now.
He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss just above the waistband of your panties, then looked up again, lips curved in a small, teasing smile: “I wonder if you taste even better than those Jeju mandarins.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you.
“Tae… please. Find out.” you whined, high and needy, fingers tightening in his hair.
That was all he needed.
You lifted your hips eagerly, helping him as he hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and slid them down your legs. He tossed the lace aside, leaving you completely bare beneath him. For a moment he just looked, eyes dark, chest rising faster, taking in every inch of you spread out on his couch.
Then he settled lower between your thighs, broad shoulders pushing your legs wider apart. He pressed a trail of wet kisses along your inner thigh, alternating sides, getting closer and closer until you felt his warm breath against your pussy.
The first touch of his tongue was gentle, a slow, flat lick from your entrance up to your clit that had your back arching sharply off the cushions. Taehyung moaned loudly against you, the sound raw and unrestrained, like the taste of you was better than anything he’d ever had.
“God… you taste so fucking good.” he groaned, voice muffled against your folds. He dove back in with the same patient, exploratory focus he’d shown with every kiss and every peeled mandarin. His tongue circled your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, then flattened again to lap at you broadly, savoring every drop. He alternated between long, luxurious licks and gentle suction, humming and moaning like he couldn’t get enough.
When two of his long fingers slipped inside you, curling slowly to find that perfect spot, your moan broke into a shaky cry. He pumped them lazily at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, then faster as your hips started to rock against his face. His free hand stayed on your stomach, holding you gently in place while he devoured you, wet, obscene sounds filling the living room along with your gasps and whimpers.
Taehyung was lost in it. Every time you clenched around his fingers or tugged harder at his hair, he groaned louder, hips subtly grinding against the couch for his own relief. He sucked your clit between his lips, tongue flicking rapidly, then soothed with broad licks again, completely focused on pulling more of those sounds from you.
You were trembling, thighs tightening around his head, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue and curl of his fingers.
He pulled back just enough to murmur against your slick skin, voice hoarse and dripping with need.
“That’s it, my girl… let me hear you.” he teased, and then the next words almost did you right then and there: “Want to feel you cum on my tongue.”
Taehyung’s voice was barely more than a growl against your soaked pussy before he dove back in with renewed hunger. His mouth turned starved, tongue flicking rapidly over your swollen clit, then sucking it between his lips with firm, insistent pulls that made your thighs shake.
He groaned loudly into you, the vibrations shooting straight through your cunt as two long fingers pumped deeper inside you, stretching you open with every thrust.
He was relentless now, lost in the taste of you. His tongue worked faster, alternating between quick, desperate licks and hard suction, while his fingers curled and scissored, always aiming for that spot that made your back bow off the couch. Wet, filthy sounds filled the living room, the slick slide of his fingers, the obscene noises of his mouth devouring your pussy, your own broken moans growing louder and more desperate.
Your hips rocked frantically against his face, chasing the pleasure as it built unbearably fast. One hand fisted tight in his messy waves, the other gripping the couch cushion like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
“Tae– oh god, Tae–” you gasped, voice cracking.
He moaned in response, the sound vibrating against your clit as he sucked harder, fingers thrusting faster, stretching your tight cunt around them. The coil in your belly snapped without warning.
Your orgasm crashed over you hard, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his fingers. Taehyung didn’t slow down, he kept licking and sucking through every wave, groaning like he was the one coming undone, milking every last tremor from your body until you were trembling and gasping beneath him.
Only when your hips started twitching from oversensitivity did he finally ease up. He gentled his tongue into slow, soothing licks, then carefully withdrew his fingers, replacing them with one last soft kiss to your pulsing clit.
Taehyung climbed up your body slowly, kissing a wet trail up your stomach and between your breasts before burying his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers slid back between your legs, gently pumping into your soaked cunt again, slow, lazy strokes to ease you through the aftershocks. Like now that he had a feel of you, his fingers couldn’t stay away.
And despite the oversensitivity, you couldn’t get enough of it either.
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him closer to your chest, one hand stroking through his hair while the other rubbed soothing circles over his bare back. Both of you were breathing hard, skin warm and slightly damp with sweat.
“Fuck, Tae…” you whispered, voice still shaky with pleasure. “Your tongue felt so good. I didn’t know you were that good at it. I’m… honestly surprised.”
He let out a soft, muffled laugh against your neck, but you felt the way his body tensed at the praise, his hips twitching hard against your thigh through his jeans. The reaction was immediate and unmistakable; your words seemed to make him even hornier.
You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head: “I’ve been dying to see you. I know you’re big.”
Taehyung lifted his head just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed, eyes dark but sparkling with shy amusement.
“Can you tell?” he chuckled, the sound abashed and boyish.
“I’ve seen your morning woods before.” You giggled with the admittance, the sound light despite how wrecked you still felt. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, a dramatic gasp escaping him. “Come on, how many sleepovers did we have?!”
“I still didn’t know you noticed it!” he laughed, that sweet laugh you’d loved for years in silence, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners even now. “At least I guess you know what to expect.”
“Am I going to be able to walk tomorrow?” you teased, sliding one hand between your bodies until your palm cupped the hard, heavy outline of his cock through his jeans.
Taehyung groaned deeply, hips rolling forward to press his bulge firmer into your hand.
“Why?” he rasped, voice thick with need. “Are you going anywhere?”
You laughed breathlessly, still cupping his hard length through the denim, giving him one slow squeeze that made his hips jerk forward again.
Taehyung groaned low in his throat, then suddenly pulled back just enough to look down at you with dark, hooded eyes.
“I need you on my bed now.” he rasped, voice rough with want.
He pushed himself up from the couch in one smooth motion, towering over you again. Strong hands slid under your arms and helped you stand on slightly shaky legs. The second you were upright, he turned you gently so your back pressed flush against his front. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight as he started walking you both toward his bedroom.
The familiar short hallway felt longer than usual when Taehyung couldn’t keep his hands or mouth off you. One palm stayed splayed possessively over your stomach while the other roamed higher, cupping and kneading your breast. His cock, still trapped in his jeans, pressed hot and insistent against the curve of your ass with every step. He leaned down repeatedly to mouth at your neck, open, wet kisses mixed with gentle sucks and the occasional scrape of teeth that made your knees weak.
“Tae… we’re never going to make it if you keep doing that.” you stumbled a little, giggling softly when his arm tightened to steady you.
“Don’t care.” he murmured against your skin, hips rolling once so you could feel exactly how hard he was. “Been waiting too long to rush now.”
By the time you reached his bedroom doorway, your skin was flushed and tingling everywhere he’d touched. The warm glow of the bedside lamp was already on, casting soft golden light over the big bed and the familiar scattered details of his room.
“Do you always keep that light on, or were you planning on seducing me like this tonight?” you glanced at the lamp, then back at him with a teasing smile as he finally loosened his hold so you could step forward.
“It’s not the first time I left that on.” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can you blame me for hoping?”
The honest confession made something warm bloom in your chest, like it had been happening all night. You laughed softly, the sound light and affectionate, and walked the few steps to his bed. You sat on the edge of the mattress, completely bare, and let your eyes roam over him, eating him up with your gaze.
“Let’s see it, then.” you said, voice sweet but dripping with teasing challenge. You tilted your head, smiling up at him. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
Taehyung’s expression shifted. The shy, second-guessing boy from earlier melted away, replaced by quiet cockiness and pure confidence. He stepped closer until he stood right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to keep looking at his face.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and popped the button of his jeans. The zipper came down slowly. He shoved the denim down his long legs and kicked it aside, leaving him in just the black boxers that did very little to hide how hard he was.
Then those came off too.
Your mouth went dry.
He was big alright, longer and thicker than the morning woods or the grinding against you on the couch had ever prepared you for. His cock stood flushed and heavy against his stomach, the head a deep, angry red and already leaking steadily, a glossy bead of precum sliding down the shaft. The sheer size of him made your thighs press together instinctively, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.
Taehyung watched your reaction with dark, satisfied eyes, one hand casually wrapping around the base of his cock and giving himself one slow stroke.
“Still think you’ll be able to walk tomorrow?” he asked, voice low and teasing, but the way his cock twitched in his grip told you he was just as affected.
You licked your lips, unable to look away. “I… might need to call in sick.”
He let out a soft, husky laugh and stepped even closer, his free hand coming down to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up toward him.
Taehyung’s thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, his voice dropping into something raw and needy.
“Touch me.” he murmured, almost begging. “Please, baby…”
The plea hit you straight in the chest; and lower. Your heart fluttered hard at how desperate he sounded, and a fresh pulse of heat throbbed between your legs, your cunt clenching around nothing at the sound of his voice like that.
You felt a little shy suddenly, despite everything you’d already done tonight. You looked up at him through your lashes, biting your lip as you reached for him. Your fingers wrapped around the thick base of his cock, and the moment you felt the scorching heat and velvet-soft skin, both of you let out a quiet sound.
Your hand looked so small and delicate against him, pretty fingers barely able to close fully around his impressive girth. Taehyung’s cock twitched visibly in your grip, another bead of precum welling at the flushed tip and sliding down slowly.
“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes fixed on the sight. “Look at that. Your pretty little hand looks so tiny on me.”
The awe in his voice made you bolder. You used it against him, voice soft and sweet as you started stroking him slowly from base to tip: “You like that? Like seeing how small I am compared to you?”
“Yes– shit, yes. Love it.” Taehyung groaned, hips jerking forward into your fist.
You spread the leaking precum down his shaft with your thumb, making the slide smoother as you learned every inch of him, the thick vein running along the underside, the way he pulsed hot and heavy in your palm, how he seemed to grow even harder under your touch. Your strokes stayed slow and exploratory at first, twisting gently at the head on every upstroke.
His moans became constant now, low and broken, like he could barely hold himself together. Every sound went straight to your core, making you wetter as you watched his abs tense and his chest rise faster with each pump of your hand.
You kept your eyes locked on his the whole time, refusing to look away even when you leaned forward. Your tongue darted out first, giving the leaking tip a slow lick that tasted salty-sweet. Taehyung’s breath hitched sharply, one hand coming down to gently thread through your hair without pushing.
Then you opened your mouth wider, stretching your jaw to take him in. Your lips wrapped around the flushed head, the sheer size of him forcing your mouth open as you sank down slowly, tongue swirling around the sensitive underside.
Taehyung let out a deep, guttural moan, fingers tightening just slightly in your hair. “That’s it… fuck, your mouth feels so good already. My pretty girl…”
You sank down further, taking more of his thick cock into your mouth until the head nudged the back of your throat. Your lips stretched wide around him, saliva already beginning to coat his shaft as you bobbed your head slowly at first, then with more confidence. The sounds were messy, wet, obscene slurps mixed with your soft hums and his constant, broken moans. Drool slipped from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto his balls as you worked him deeper, tongue pressing firmly along the thick vein underneath.
“Fuck… your mouth is so warm, so wet, shit, baby…” Taehyung’s hand stayed gentle in your hair, not forcing, just holding as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.
You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him as deep as you could until your nose nearly brushed his pelvis. Your free hand stroked what you couldn’t fit, twisting slickly with all the spit. Then your other hand slipped between his legs to cup his heavy balls, rolling them gently in your palm.
Taehyung’s entire body jerked. A deep, guttural groan tore from his chest and his cock throbbed hard against your tongue. For a second he looked like he was about to lose it right there, hips stuttering as he fought for control.
You pulled off just enough to giggle around the head of his cock, eyes sparkling up at him with pure mischief.
“Little brat.” he cursed breathlessly, voice strained and fond at the same time. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Still smiling, you gave his balls one last gentle squeeze before releasing them. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale, then gently tugged you off his cock with a wet pop. His chest was heaving, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at your swollen, shiny lips and the mess of spit on your chin.
“On the bed.” he instructed, voice rough but gentle. “Hands and knees. I need to see that pretty ass.”
You obeyed instantly, heat flooding your body at the command. Turning around, you crawled up the mattress toward the headboard, swaying your hips with every movement. You lowered your shoulders to the sheets, arching your back deeply so your ass was high in the air, knees spread wide, presenting yourself perfectly for him.
Behind you, Taehyung let out a low, strained hum that sounded more like a growl: “You shouldn’t be so good at that.”
“Neither of us are virgins, Tae.” you pointed out softly, cheek pressed to the cool sheet as you glanced back at him. “You met all of my boyfriends–”
The sharp smack of his palm against your ass cut you off, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to sting deliciously and make you gasp. The possessive edge in the gesture sent a fresh rush of arousal straight to your cunt.
“I’m the only boyfriend you’ll have from now on.” he said, voice low and serious, one big hand rubbing soothingly over the spot he’d just smacked. “The only one who gets to see you like this. Got it?”
“Yes… I only ever wanted you, Tae. Only you.” you moaned at the words, your pussy clenching visibly with how much his possessiveness turned you on.
“Good girl,” he praised, the words warm and rough at the same time.
He climbed onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You heard the slick sound of him pumping his cock a few times, then felt the blunt, leaking head press against your dripping entrance. He nudged it up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness, but he didn’t push inside. Just rested there, hot and heavy, teasing.
You whined impatiently, pushing back against him, but he stayed perfectly still. When you looked over your shoulder, you found him already staring at you, eyes dark, jaw tight, drinking in the sight of you presented so openly for him.
“Show me what you can do, then.” he murmured, voice thick with challenge and barely contained need.
It was your turn not to hesitate.
With a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you pushed back onto him. The thick head of his cock parted your slick folds and began to sink inside your tight cunt, stretching you open inch by inch. You clenched around him on purpose, sucking him deeper with every backward movement, your walls fluttering and gripping as you took more of his impressive length.
“Fuck… that’s it. Taking me so well already.” Taehyung groaned low and long behind you, hands flexing on your hips.
You kept going, slow and confident, until your ass finally met his pelvis and he was buried to the hilt inside you. The stretch was intense, he felt impossibly big, filling and stuffing your pussy completely. You stayed perfectly still once he was fully seated, cockwarming him while your walls fluttered and adjusted around his throbbing girth. Both of you breathed heavily in the quiet room, savoring the moment.
Taehyung’s hands roamed patiently over your body even as his cock twitched deep inside you. He spread your cheeks wider with both palms, groaning softly at the sight of where you were connected, your pussy stretched tight around his thick shaft. His hands then slid up your sides, tracing every curve, before gliding down the length of your spine in long, soothing strokes.
“So pretty like this.” he whispered, voice rough with restraint. “So fucking tight and warm around me… Take your time, baby. I’ve got you.”
You stayed like that for a long moment, letting your body get used to the deep, full feeling of him. When your breathing finally evened out and the initial burn melted into pure pleasure, Taehyung’s hand slid up your back and gathered your hair into a loose fist. He gave it a firm, gentle pull, arching your back deeper and making you moan loudly as the new angle pushed him even further inside you.
“Gonna show me what this perfect ass can do or nah?” he teased, voice low and husky, the words laced with that cocky confidence he wore so well now.
You answered by starting to move.
You rocked your hips slowly at first, then began to really fuck him, swaying and swiveling in smooth, deliberate circles, rolling your ass back onto his cock with practiced rhythm. You cocked your hips on every downward stroke, taking him deep and grinding so your pussy clenched and fluttered around every inch of him.
Taehyung’s curses and moans spilled out under his breath, growing louder and more broken the faster you moved. “Shit– fuck, baby…”
His free hand stayed on your hip, gripping tight, while the other kept that gentle pull on your hair, guiding you as you rode him in deep, filthy strokes. He touched you everywhere he could reach, palm sliding up your spine, squeezing your ass, reaching underneath to cup and knead your breast.
“You’re so deep, Tae… God, you’re stuffing my pussy so full. I can feel every inch of you.” you moaned loudly with every thrust, voice breathy and wrecked.
The praise hit him hard. You felt his cock twitch violently inside you, his hips jerking up to meet your movements as another low groan tore from his throat.
“Yeah?” he rasped, voice strained with pleasure. “You like how I fill you up? Like being stretched around my cock?”
“Love it… You’re so big, and you feel so perfect.” you nodded frantically, pushing back harder onto him, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room. “Been waiting so long for this– for you to fuck me like this.”
Taehyung’s grip on your hair tightened just enough to make you gasp, his other hand sliding down to rub firm circles over your clit as you continued to ride him with steady, sinful rolls of your hips. His moans were constant now, raw and needy, every praise you gave him making him lose himself a little more.
Suddenly he pulled out with a wet sound, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Before you could whine at the loss, his strong hands grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion.
You squealed in surprise, the sound turning into a breathless laugh as you bounced lightly on the mattress. Taehyung was already moving, towering over you as he pushed your thighs wide apart. His eyes were dark and hungry, chest heaving.
He didn’t give you time to catch your breath.
With one powerful thrust he shoved his thick cock back into your soaked pussy, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The stretch was sudden and overwhelming, punching a loud moan out of you as your back arched off the bed.
Taehyung caged you in immediately, forearms braced on either side of your head, his broad body covering yours completely. He started fucking you harder, faster, deeper strokes that made the bed creak beneath you. Skin slapped loudly against skin with every thrust, wet and filthy.
“Fuck– yes.” he groaned, voice rough and low. “This is what I needed. Want to see your face while I fuck you.”
He leaned down and latched onto your chest, sucking and biting at the soft skin of your breasts, leaving little marks that made you cry out. Your nails raked down his back, leaving long scratches that only seemed to spur him on. He hissed in pleasure, hips snapping harder into you.
Every thrust was deep and good, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside your cunt over and over. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as you pulled him even deeper.
“Tae– oh my god, you’re so deep.” you moaned, voice breaking. “Feels so good… don’t stop.”
“Not stopping.” he growled against your skin, biting down on the side of your breast before soothing it with his tongue. “Gonna fuck this pretty pussy until you can’t walk tomorrow. You’re mine now, baby. Only mine.”
Dirty, open-mouthed kisses followed, messy and desperate, tongues sliding together as he kept pounding into you. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with your shared moans and gasps, filling the warm bedroom. His hips rolled with every thrust, grinding against your clit on the downstroke and making sparks explode behind your eyes.
You were both getting lost in each other, years of quiet longing finally pouring out in every desperate movement. Your hands roamed his back, nails digging in harder whenever he hit that perfect angle. His mouth moved from your breasts to your neck, sucking marks into your skin, then back to your lips for another sloppy, heated kiss.
“Feel how deep I am?” he panted against your mouth, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and push it higher, opening you up even more for him. “This cunt was made for me. So tight, so wet– fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
You whimpered, clenching around his thick cock as another wave of pleasure built fast and hot in your belly. “Tae… I’m close–”
He groaned loudly, pace turning punishing as he fucked you harder, deeper, chasing both your pleasure and his own.
“That’s it, my girl. Come on my cock. Want to feel you fall apart around me.”
The coil in your stomach tightened unbearably, every brutal thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Taehyung’s forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked as you both spiraled together, moans and gasps mingling in the small space between you.
Taehyung’s thrusts stayed deep and punishing, hips snapping against yours with every stroke. His hand slid between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen clit and rolling it fast, tight circles in perfect sync with the rhythm of his cock driving into your cunt.
The added stimulation was too much. Pleasure coiled unbearably tight in your belly, then snapped.
You came hard with a broken cry, back arching sharply off the bed as your pussy clenched violently around him. Your orgasm hit in messy, gushing waves, warm slick flooding around his thick cock, soaking his shaft, his balls, and the sheets beneath you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed, milking him relentlessly as you trembled and gasped beneath him.
“Fuck– fuck, baby–” Taehyung cursed loudly, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of you gushing around him. The wet, obscene sounds grew louder as he kept thrusting through your climax, chasing his own release.
He only lasted a few more strokes.
With a deep, guttural groan he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pulsing cunt. He filled you up completely, hot and heavy, his cock twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself. His hips jerked erratically, grinding against you as he rode out the intense waves.
Both of you were left twitching and trembling in the aftermath. Taehyung’s arms gave out and he toppled forward, collapsing on top of you with his full weight, face buried in the crook of your neck. His chest heaved against yours, both of you slick with sweat and breathing hard.
After a long moment of heavy, shared breathing, he mumbled against your skin, voice hoarse and a little sheepish:
“I meant to pull out.”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, arms wrapping tighter around his back.
“I’m safe.” you assured him gently, one hand stroking through his damp hair. “And I trust you.”
The tension melted from his shoulders instantly. He exhaled shakily, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “God, I love you.”
The words landed warm and certain against your skin. If this had been anyone else, you might have brushed it off as post-sex haze. But this was Taehyung, your Tae, and you knew he meant every syllable.
“I kinda knew that when you peeled that first mandarin.” you smiled, hugging him harder to your chest. He let out a tired, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through both of you. You continued softly: “I’ll say it back when you do it again.”
Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling with affection and amusement even through the exhaustion. His messy hair fell over his forehead as he grinned down at you.
“No need for words or mandarins.” he murmured, voice still rough from moaning. “You don’t fuck someone like that when you don’t love them back.”
You laughed softly, reaching up to cup his face. He leaned into your palm, eyes fluttering closed for a second before he dipped down to kiss you, slow, lazy, and full of everything you’d both waited years to say out loud.
The two of you stayed tangled together like that, his softening cock still buried inside you, hearts slowing down in the warm glow of the bedside lamp. For the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly right.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings: appropriate warnings are added to the chapters, swearing, daddy kink, smut, mentions of bullying, in general life stuff, reader is diabetic.
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
synopsis: your dating history had been nothing but bad sex and even worse goodbyes. he showed you a patience and certainty that silenced every doubt, proving that you weren’t hard to love; you’d been loved by him all along.
wc: 10.5k
warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content | oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, soft power play, heavy praise kink, multiple orgasms | best friends to lovers, swearing, fluff, aftercare.
authors note: i’ve been wanting to post a mingyu fic for ages now, and as i was going through some of my older fics, this one gave me insane mingyu energy and i had no other choice but to rewrite it for him! this is a rewrite of my fic ‘tears’, and yes, the plot is based on the sabrina carpenter song! i hope that you all enjoy this as much as i do, and as always, please feel free to let me know what you think! ♡
you weren’t heartbroken; that would’ve implied there was something left to break.
you’d been on dates.
enough of them to know when there wouldn't be a second one before the drinks even hit the table.
enough to hear the same compliments repeated back to you like a script.
enough to recognize the tone men used when they were trying to impress you without actually learning anything real.
you’d slept with some of them, too.
sometimes because you wanted to. sometimes because you were desperate for relief. sometimes just to prove to yourself that you could still feel something, even if it didn’t last.
you weren’t bitter. you didn’t walk around openly hating men or rolling your eyes at every couple on the street.
you just didn’t have it in you anymore.
the hope. the performance. the energy it took to pretend someone’s bare minimum was enough.
so when you got home from yet another date that left you completely drained, you didn’t even bother with the lights.
you left your bag by the door, kicked your shoes aside, and sank onto the kitchen floor with a box of cookies at your side.
you weren’t heartbroken. you weren’t even sad. it was quieter than that; almost like resignation.
maybe it wasn’t that love never came; maybe it was that you were never the kind of person people stayed for.
being alone didn’t scare you.
what scared you was how much work it always seemed to take to avoid it.
every man felt like a mirror you kept wiping down, but no matter how clean you made it, the image was never your own.
it was smudged with their ego, clouded by their expectations, and warped by the way they looked at you like you were a puzzle they were entitled to solve.
you were tired of carving yourself down. of softening your edges. of apologizing for being too much or not enough.
tired of folding yourself smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of you at all, except whatever version might finally be enough to make someone stay.
your phone buzzed against the counter, a small sound that cut through the stillness and broke the spiral of your thoughts.
you kept your focus on the cookies in your lap, thumb working over the cardboard as though the solution to all of your problems might appear if you traced it long enough.
until it buzzed again. then again. and again.
you let out a weary sigh and reached for the phone, answering blindly, not bothering to see who it was before lifting it to your ear.
mostly because you already knew who was on the other end of the line.
“hi,” you said, voice low and a little scratchy from disuse.
“you sound like shit,” mingyu replied, warm and easy.
you smiled without meaning to. “thanks.”
fabric shifted on his end, a soft thud like he was throwing himself deeper into a couch.
“you didn’t text me today,” he spoke, not accusing, just noticing.
“mm,” you agreed quietly. “didn’t really feel like it.”
a quiet hum of understanding slipped out before his voice turned lighter. “hold on. didn’t you have that date tonight? with moustache guy?”
you shut your eyes. “unfortunately.”
“so…how bad was it?” he asked, already seeming to know the answer.
your head tipped back against the cupboard, the cool surface steadying you for a moment. “he called me dramatic,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“ouch.” he made the sound like a real wince. “what’d you do, insult his shirt?”
despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “no. i just didn’t want to sleep with him.”
the quiet that followed was brief, but you felt it; he was biting back his first thought and thinking of something more appropriate to say.
“ah,” he said finally, voice dry. “god forbid you make a decision about your own body.”
you snorted, the sound sharp in your throat. “right? how dare i.”
“so you blocked him?” he asked, though it sounded more like certainty than a question.
“while he was walking me home,” you admitted, reaching into the box for another stale cookie.
his laugh rolled through the receiver, low and warm. “brutal and efficient…i respect it.”
the sound pulled a laugh out of you too, small and worn around the edges, before it faded back into quiet.
his voice softened in the pause. “you doing okay, though?”
you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to tell him, but because you couldn’t figure out how to shape the heaviness in your chest into words.
“i’m tired,” you said at last, the words too small for what you actually meant. “not just tonight, though. it’s the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.”
“mm,” his agreement was soft, a sound that told you he knew exactly what that felt like, and that he’d been there more times than he could count.
his breathing stayed steady in your ear, present in a way that made the silence feel less empty.
“how did you even know it went badly?” the question slipped out before you could stop it.
“because you picked up,” he answered simply, as if that explained everything.
you frowned at the ceiling, not satisfied. “that doesn’t even make sense.”
there was movement on his end again, the soft rustle of fabric and a dull thud in the background, though his voice never faltered.
“you never pick up during good dates,” he reasoned. a pause stretched, just long enough for the smile in his voice to be obvious. “not that you’ve ever actually had one.”
your mouth fell open, half offended, half amused. “you are such an asshole.”
“tell me i’m wrong,” the grin in his voice was obvious, even without seeing his face.
you opened your mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out. you knew he was right.
“yeah. that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.
“you’re insufferable,” you muttered.
“and correct,” he shot back without missing a beat, the faint shuffle of noise still bleeding through the line.
you squinted, suspicion tugging. “seriously, what are you doing? it sounds like you’re losing a fight with your furniture.”
“i’m coming over,” he said easily, the kind of casual certainty that came from years of getting away with it.
“gyu—” you started, fully ready to argue with him.
“don’t even start,” he cut in. “you’re not winning this one.”
“you don’t have to come,” you mumbled, curling tighter on the kitchen floor. “my apartment is a disaster, and i look like i’ve been hit by a bus.”
“cool,” he said, not missing a beat. “and?”
you blinked. “and i don’t want you to see me like this?”
his laugh slipped through, low and amused. “please. i’ve seen worse. like that night you got super wasted, missed the bathroom stall completely, and made me hold your hair while you cried into the toilet about how you were ‘too pretty to suffer like this.’”
you let out a dramatic groan, dragging your palm down your face. “you swore you’d never bring that up again.”
“i lied,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “messy hair and a graveyard of takeout boxes don’t even crack your top ten. i’ve watched you full-body sob during tangled.”
“that was emotional,” you defended.
“it was,” he agreed easily. “your eyes were swollen for hours afterwards.”
“you’re actually unbearable,” you muttered.
“maybe,” he said lightly, “but i’m still coming over. you don’t get to argue with me about it, either. i’m already out of the house.”
you shook your head, pressing the phone tighter to your ear. “this feels like harassment.”
his laugh came easy, smug enough to make your chest tighten in spite of yourself. “yeah, yeah. file a complaint when i get there. i’ll see you in ten.”
he ended the call before you could get another word in.
you stayed on the floor a little longer, the kitchen tiles cool against your legs.
your bra strap had slipped down your arm, the dress from earlier felt too tight, and the lingering scent of ramen from your date was starting to make your stomach turn.
eventually, you peeled yourself off of the floor and padded toward your bedroom, tugging at zippers and straps as you walked.
you made it to your room without bothering to flick on the light.
the soft outline of mingyu’s hoodie was easy to spot in the dark, still draped over your desk chair like it had been waiting for you.
you slipped it on and tugged a pair of cotton shorts from the drawer without bothering to check which ones they were.
you were already turning back towards the kitchen before you’d fully registered the choice; like your body had already decided for you.
the only light came from the lamp in the living room and the soft glow above the stove, casting a dim warmth over the mess you said you’d clean hours ago.
piled up boxes. dirty dishes. the garbage you should have changed yesterday.
none of it was catastrophic; just enough to be annoying.
you lingered in the doorway, taking it all in. like maybe, if you stared hard enough, the mess would clean itself.
you thought about moving. picking up a box, rinsing a dish, doing the bare minimum to prove that you weren't completely useless.
you stood there long enough to accept it wasn't going to happen.
you couldn't help but laugh at how pathetic it all felt.
it was a five minute job at best, yet you still allowed yourself to sink back down to the floor, because avoidance had always came easier than effort.
the apartment was quiet for all of thirty seconds before his voice crashed through it, loud and certain, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.
“yo,” mingyu called out. “sorry i’m late—traffic was actual hell, and your street is like a one-way to satan. also,” he paused, mostly for dramatic effect, “i brought some noodles and that weird mango drink you like. worship me accordingly.”
you leaned off the cupboards to glance toward the entrance. “you’re not late,” you said flatly. “i told you not to come.”
“and yet,” he replied, already kicking off his shoes. “here i am.”
he crouched down to fix them; heel to toe, perfectly aligned with yours like it was second nature.
it was just shoes. nothing more.
except most men you’d gone out with would’ve kicked them halfway across the floor, expecting you to deal with it later.
the care he gave to something so small shouldn’t have meant anything, but the heat that flickered low in your stomach said otherwise.
you dismissed it just as quickly as it came, telling yourself it was just the bad date making scraps of effort look bigger than they actually were.
with a groan, you tipped onto your back, landing against the tile with a quiet thud. one arm draped across your eyes, the other one splayed out like you’d officially given up. “god, you're annoying.”
“love you too,” he muttered, easing the bags onto the counter, careful not to knock over the leaning tower of unopened mail.
he turned and pulled the fridge open with one hand, already bracing himself. “wow. shredded cheese, expired oat milk, and…ranch? you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“oh my god,” you peeked out from under your arm to glare at him. “i literally had ramen earlier.”
he glanced at the takeout container still sitting on the counter; unopened and untouched.
“that from your date?” he asked, already tugging off the lid. “what, was the guy’s moustache so gross you lost your appetite?”
“can you not,” you sighed, laughter sneaking into your voice despite your best efforts.
he barely reacted. “you didn’t even eat this. the broth has a film.”
you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to argue. “stop inspecting my trash like a raccoon.”
“stop living like a raccoon,” he shot back. “and sit up. this is getting depressing.”
“no,” you said. “maybe i like the floor.”
“my bad,” he said, stepping over you without hesitation. “i’ll leave you two alone, then.”
he picked up your container of ramen you'd abandoned on the counter, emptied the broth into the sink, and scraped the noodles into the trash.
there was no hesitation. no second thought.
only quick, deliberate movements carried out with the kind of ease that came from knowing exactly what needed to be done.
if it were up to you, the container would have gone straight into the trash, broth and all.
yet for some reason, it stayed in his hands.
he held it under the stream of hot water, and watched it spill over the sides until the cloudy film began to dissolve. he made it look so natural, as if rinsing it had always been the obvious choice.
without breaking his rhythm, he crouched down and tugged open the cabinet beneath the sink. his hand slipped inside, bypassing the clutter you usually shoved in there, until his palm landed on the caddy tucked against the wall.
he didn’t fumble or search. his fingers closed around the sponge instantly as he pulled it free in one smooth motion.
you stayed frozen on the floor, eyes locked on the way he worked it over the container.
the water slid over his veins as if it had chosen that path on purpose, dragging your gaze there and daring you to keep staring.
every drop seemed designed to make you notice the strength in his hands and each flex of his fingers, until you couldn’t stop imagining what else they could do if they turned their attention towards you instead.
before you could spiral any further, he rinsed the last of the bubbles away and placed the container neatly into the drying rack, never once glancing in your direction.
he wasn’t doing it for praise. he wasn’t trying to make a point, either.
he simply noticed what needed to be done, and instead of judging you or making you feel guilty for letting it sit, he took care of it himself without needing a single thank you.
it shouldn’t have made your stomach drop. it shouldn’t have made your mouth go dry.
yet the heat was already there, rushing low until you felt the dampness pool against the cotton of your shorts.
you pressed your thighs together, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t as obvious as it felt, but there was no denying it.
your body didn’t care about the logic. it only cared about the way his hands moved, sure and unbothered, as if caring for the mess you’d left behind came easier to him than just leaving it.
your eyes followed him as he moved towards the garbage. he gathered the bag in his hands, twisting it into a knot with an easy strength that made his forearms flex, his muscles shifting with every pull.
it was quick and efficient; the kind of movement that never asked to be noticed.
he placed it by the door, not just to move it out of the way, but with the unspoken intention of taking it out later. the kind of small, thoughtless promise no one else had ever made you.
when he stepped back into the room, you told yourself he had to be finished by now, though every part of you already knew he wasn’t.
the fabric of his sweats pulled tightly across his thighs as he crouched again, reaching for the cabinet.
a new bag rustled open in his hands, his fingers working with quiet certainty as he slipped it into the bin. each edge was pressed down carefully, tucked into place until it held exactly the way you liked it.
a task that should’ve looked mundane somehow carried weight in his hands. your pulse climbed in uneven beats, chest tight, as if the air in the room had turned heavier just because he was in it.
there was nothing seductive in what he did, yet every precise movement drew the heat higher until your body responded as though he’d touched you directly.
too many bad dates had taught you to not expect this kind of care.
you were used to men who thought effort stopped at sending a text, and who never lifted a finger unless it benefited them.
the guy from tonight hadn't even bothered to hold the door open for you, so the thought of him replacing a garbage bag was almost laughable.
most men had always treated care as an obligation; something only performed because they felt they had to.
with mingyu, it was instinct; as natural as his next breath.
something in you gave way the longer you watched him.
it became too easy to let your mind wander, to twist the steady rhythm of his hands into something else; something meant just for you.
suddenly, his hands weren’t cleaning anymore. they were gripping your hips, sliding lower until his fingers pressed between your thighs, stroking through the damp heat he’d already put there without even trying.
you could almost feel them pushing inside, filling you with the same easy certainty he carried into every small thing he did.
the realization of what you’d just imagined made your eyes snap shut, mortified at your own mind and yet powerless against the pulse it left thrumming through you.
by the time you found the courage to open them again, he was drying his palms against his sweats, shoulders rolling back as if he’d just wrapped up a shift.
“alright,” he said, stretching with a groan, joints popping as his hoodie slid higher. “time to get up, princess.”
you didn’t budge. your cheek stayed pressed to the tile, knees pulled in close, hair half-in your face.
he tipped his head at you. “hello? earth to y/n.”
you blinked. “what?”
“i said it’s time to get up,” he repeated, flat like it was obvious. “we’re not eating dinner with you laid out like a crime scene.”
“i’m fine here,” you muttered into your arm.
he gave your hip a light kick with his socked foot. “i know i look sexy doing dishes,” he smirked, already catching the eye roll you tried to hide. “but come on. pull it together.”
your head tipped just enough to glare at him. “you’re delusional.”
“and you’re dramatic,” he shot back without missing a beat, crouching just enough to extend his hand toward you. “now get up before i drag you to the couch myself.”
your lips twitched, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a smile. “i’d like to see you try,” you mumbled, even as your hand slipped into his.
he tugged you up in one smooth pull, steadying you with a hand at your back until your feet found the floor again.
the touch was brief, casual, but your skin still burned under it.
you shook him off a little too quickly, ducking your head like maybe he wouldn’t notice. his brows lifted anyway, but he let it slide.
“come on,” he said, already reaching for the takeout bags on the counter. “i didn’t bring all of this food over just so you could mope on the floor.”
you trailed him into the living room, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders shifted under his hoodie as he carried the takeout.
he collapsed onto the couch, bags spread across the table like he owned the place.
you hovered for a beat before sitting beside him, close but not too close, hoping he wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your body.
“so,” he started, tearing open the first container, “soonyoung threw a tantrum when i told him you weren’t coming to rehearsal today.”
your lips tugged at one corner. “define tantrum.”
“like…fully rolling on the floor,” he said, chopsticks already clicking into place. “claimed he couldn’t get through practice without his number one fan watching.”
“sounds about right.” you said, easily picturing his dramatics in your head.
“seungkwan even backed him up,” he went on. “got all serious about how you’re ‘the glue that holds us together.’” he mimed quotes in the air, rolling his eyes.
your laugh slipped out before you could stop it.
he turned his head upon hearing the sound, like he’d been waiting for it, then reached for another container. the lid snapped open, steam spilling up between you.
“they’re ridiculous.” you said, shaking your head.
“it gets worse,” he assured, “seokmin told everyone in the studio that you were cheating on him.” he said casually, as if it wasn’t the wildest thing to say.
your brows shot up. “cheating? he and i aren’t even—” you cut yourself off with a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head again. “my god, he’s actually insane.”
mingyu’s smirk tilted, like he wanted to say more, but he just went back to portioning noodles.
you watched him work. how his hands moved quick and precise without thought. the crease in his brow when the chopsticks slipped.
the way his shoulder brushed yours when he reached for another box, like he didn’t even register the contact.
even if he didn’t, it still left you warm and restless, your shorts clinging tighter as your pulse tripping over itself.
you forced yourself still, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach, hoping he couldn’t read what was written all over your body.
without any warning, he slid the plate onto your lap, already reaching for another.
you glanced down ready to thank him, only to freeze.
every bite was exactly what you liked; no stray toppings, no sides bleeding into each other. even the noodles sat neat, twisted in their own space like he’d portioned them with care.
your brows furrowed. “wait…this is for me?”
“yeah?” his tone was flat, chopsticks already busy over his own plate.
“no, but—you separated everything.” you gestured vaguely at the plate, thrown. “none of the food’s even touching.”
he shrugged like it wasn’t worth noticing. “yeah. you hate it when it does.”
your mouth opened, stalled. “since when do you—”
“since always.” his smirk tugged faint, eyes still on the food. “i just pay attention. relax, it’s not that deep.”
you sat there, pulse loud in your ears, trying to pretend it wasn’t.
your shorts clung even tighter when you shifted, and the heat crawling up your neck made the plate almost too warm to balance on your lap.
by the time he leaned back with his own food, your eyes still hadn’t left him once.
his brows drew together, catching it instantly. “what?”
you blinked, caught off guard. “what?”
“you’re staring,” he said, chopsticks frozen midair like he’d caught you red-handed.
“am not,” you muttered, keeping your eyes locked on the plate in your lap.
“are too,” he shot back, smirk tugging as his chopsticks hovered. “seriously, what’s your deal?”
you shifted slightly, tugging your knees in closer as the words spilled out before you could catch them. “you’re just…way too thoughtful.”
he blinked, deadpan. “that’s a crime now?”
“no, it’s—” you waved a hand at the table, trying to find the words. “you cleaned, you set everything up, you made my plate exactly right without even asking—”
he glanced up mid-bite, chopsticks pausing. “uh-huh.”
“and you didn’t even hesitate, you just—” your voice pitched higher, flustered. “you just did it, like it was nothing—”
he reached for his bottle of water, lifting it toward his mouth, eyes narrowing with a half-smile. “because it is nothing.”
“it’s not nothing, gyu!” you shot back, heat crawling up your neck. “it’s—it’s hot, okay?”
he choked mid-sip, coughing and laughing all at once, nearly spraying water across the table as his shoulders shook.
at the same time, you slapped your hand over your mouth, instantly mortified. “oh my god.”
he was still coughing through a laugh, sleeve dragging across his mouth as his grin broke wide. “hot?” his voice cracked, half-raspy. “you think me scrubbing your dishes is hot?”
“nope,” you blurted through your hand. “you’re hearing things.”
his eyes lit like he’d just been handed blackmail material for life. “unbelievable. years of friendship, and this is how i find out your kink is…choreplay?”
“shut up,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face.
“no fucking way,” his hand patted at his sweats like he was checking his pockets. “where’s my phone? the boys have to hear this—”
your stomach dropped, panic snapping through you. “don’t you dare.”
his grin only widened, his hands now patting down the front pocket of his hoodie like he was already halfway to victory. “oh, i definitely dare.”
you scrambled to shove your plate onto the coffee table, causing the chopsticks to clatter against porcelain in your rush. “nope. no. absolutely not—”
he’d barely gotten his fingers inside of his pocket before you launched yourself across the couch, tackling him sideways into the cushions.
he landed flat on his back with a thud, and you climbed over him, straddling his hips while reaching desperately for his hoodie pocket.
“this is an invasion of privacy!” he gasped, twisting under you, but his laugh broke through every word.
“you don’t need privacy!” you shot back, breathless, hair falling in your face. “you need to shut up!”
his free hand darted to your side, fingers digging right into the spot he knew would make you squeal.
you squirmed against him, shrieking through your laughter. “stop, you asshole!”
he was laughing so hard his voice cracked, words tumbling out between breaths. “you picked the fight—i’m just defending myself!”
you finally slipped your hand into his pocket and yanked his phone free.
“mine!” you yelled triumphantly as you tossed it gently onto the carpet, way out of reach.
he burst out laughing, head sinking back into the cushion, chest shaking under you. “unreal,” he wheezed, grin splitting wide. “you just committed straight-up theft.”
“it was self-defense,” you corrected, still straddling his hips as you tried to hold him down. “you were about to ruin my life.”
his hands came up half-heartedly, bracing against your thighs as his laugh cracked again.
“you literally said i was hot when all i did was rinse a bowl—” he bucked his hips just enough to throw you off balance, making you squeal. “imagine if i started mopping the floors.”
“stop talking.” you slapped your hand over his mouth, desperate to stop the teasing.
he looked at you with mock innocence, then dragged his tongue across your palm.
you yanked it back with a yelp. “gross!”
he laughed so hard it broke into hiccups, chest still shaking.
your forehead pressed into his hoodie, both of you still caught in the aftershock of laughter.
the sound trailed off in little bursts, until it faded completely. silence settled around you, thicker than it had any right to be.
you lifted your head without meaning to, hair falling forward, your fists still bunched in the fabric of his hoodie.
he was right there; flat on his back, smile softening into something slower that tugged at your ribs.
the awareness of it all seeped in slowly, until every place your body touched his became impossible to ignore.
your thighs hugged his sides. your hips were pressed flush against his. his palms rested warm and steady on your bare legs, fingers splayed like he didn’t trust himself to move.
your faces hovered only inches apart from one another, the remnants of his grin fading as the air thickened between you.
the echo of laughter still hummed in your chest, but it was drowned beneath the heavy thud of your heartbeat.
the ache you’d been pushing down all night came rushing back, hot and relentless, flooding every nerve until there was no disguising it.
every slight shift of your hips made it worse. your slick heat pressed directly against him; betraying just how badly you wanted more.
his eyes held yours, steady and certain, as if he could read every thought you were trying to bury.
a quick flicker down to your lips slipped past his control; small enough to deny, but impossible for you to miss.
the second his gaze lifted to yours again, the tension snapped.
you closed the gap in a rush, kissing him with all the want you’d been choking down.
he answered immediately, almost as if he’d been holding back just as much. the kiss was deep from the start, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of certainty that stole your breath.
his palm skimmed up your bare thigh until it fit at your waist, while his other hand curled behind your neck, coaxing you closer, unable to bear an inch of distance.
the pressure of his hands anchored you as he shifted beneath you, pushing up from the cushions until he was sitting.
the movement never broke the kiss; it only dragged you closer, chest to chest, your legs tightening instinctively around his hips.
his mouth worked over yours hungrily, lips parting like he couldn’t get enough. you clutched at his hoodie, fingers knotted tightly in the fabric, pulling harder to erase whatever little space remained.
every brush of his mouth made your pulse spike harder. every drag of his lips left your lungs aching, but neither of you were willing to stop long enough to breathe.
his lips moved against yours like he already knew every secret you’d been hiding. each shift was deliberate, practiced without practice, pulling raw sounds out of you before you even realized you were making them.
his hand left the back of your neck first, dragging slowly over your skin before slipping down to join the other at your waist.
his hands slipped lower in a slow drag, following the natural curve of your body until both palms curved around your ass, pressing you down against the growing buldge in his sweatpants.
the press of him right against your center dragged a moan from your throat before you could stop it, hips rolling down on instinct, desperate to feel more of the friction you’d been aching for all night.
“breathe,” he murmured against your mouth, voice steady even through his own ragged breath. “i’ve got you.”
your hips rolled again before you could stop them, chasing more of the thick heat beneath his sweats. the noise he made vibrated through your chest, deep and broken, sending sparks racing down your spine.
you clenched around nothing, thighs tightening at his sides, every nerve screaming for more.
“gyu,” you whispered, voice trembling. “please.”
his thumb brushed slowly over your side through your hoodie, grounding you even as his mouth swallowed your plea.
“i hear you,” he said, rough and certain. “but we’re not doing this here. not on a couch.”
the protest tangled with want on your tongue, but you gave a shaky nod. “okay,” you breathed.
his grip tightened, both hands already firm at your ass, and in one motion, you were lifted off the couch.
your legs wrapped around his waist before you even thought about it, a startled laugh breaking from your chest as his mouth chased yours again.
he carried you like he’d done it a thousand times, steady even with your legs locked tight around him.
your back met the mattress before you even realized you had made it to your bedroom, the mattress dipping under your shared weight as he laid you down without once breaking the kiss.
he hovered above you, his weight balanced on one arm, while his other hand found your jaw. his thumb traced lightly along your skin as his eyes searched yours. “still with me?”
“still with you,” you whispered.
he brushed a strand of hair away from your lips, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary before adjusting the pillow under your head.
he caught the details no one else ever did; every small adjustment only served as proof that he knew exactly what you needed before you said a word.
his hand drifted lower again, pausing at the hem of your hoodie. “can i?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.
“please,” you breathed, the word spilling out before you could catch it.
he pulled the hoodie over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in nothing but your bra and shorts.
the air hit cool against your skin, though it was nothing compared to his stare, heavy with years of memorizing every detail; knowing you in ways no one else ever had.
“fuck,” he murmured as his hand lifted to your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. “you’re so beautiful.”
your breath hitched, chest pressing up into his. heat rushed over your skin, your body giving you away as your hips shifted closer, chasing him without thought.
his lips moved with purpose, each kiss a quiet claim as he trailed them along your jaw, across your cheek, down the line of your throat, and back up to your lips.
his mouth traced you in reverence, each touch tugging another tremor loose, stoking the ache already clawing at you.
his hands followed the same rhythm, palms sliding over your sides, dragging heat everywhere they lingered.
he touched you like he already knew what your body was asking for; steady where you needed grounding, firmer where you were aching for pressure.
he moved with purpose, mapping you in ways that left no part of you untouched, and no ache unanswered.
your fingers slipped to the hem of his hoodie, tugging at it clumsily, more desperate than precise. you weren’t subtle about it, trying to work it up his torso without breaking the kiss.
his mouth curved against yours in a half-laugh, half-groan. “you know you can just ask, right?” he murmured, amused even through the rasp of his breath.
you rolled your eyes, breath catching anyway. “just take it off,” you whispered, impatience clear in your voice.
he rocked back onto on his heels, and tugged the hoodie off in one smooth pull. the shirt beneath stretched across his shoulders, while his sweats slouched low on his hips like an invitation.
your gaze slipped down, dragging his with it, until you were both staring at the obvious wet mark stamped across his lap.
your stomach flipped, eyes flying wide before you could stop them. his laugh cracked out, caught somewhere between disbelief and delight.
“wow,” he said, brows shooting up. “i rinse one bowl and you baptize my pants?”
you slapped a hand over your mouth, laughter already breaking through. “oh my god—no! that is not from me!”
his grin only widened, mischief written all over it. “no? so what, i pissed myself?”
you let out a choked laugh, shoulders shaking. “maybe you did!”
he leaned closer, laughter still shaking out of him, his hands warm and steady at your hips. “mm. want me to check your shorts, just to be sure?”
you shifted in his grip, laughing helplessly even as your face burned. “absolutely not!”
his grin turned smug, laughter still ghosting in his voice. “that’s what i thought.” his thumbs pressed deeper into your hips, steady and sure. “guess initiative really does go a long way, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “apparently.”
he hummed, pleased, leaning in closer until his nose brushed yours. “good answer,” he mumbled.
his mouth found yours again, the trace of a smile still there, though it melted quickly into something hungrier.
his knee slid between your thighs, nudging them a little further apart, while his hands tightened at your hips, keeping you close.
you gasped into him, the sound breaking into a whimper when he angled himself lower, kissing along your jaw.
“there she is,” he murmured, voice brushing warm against your pulse before his lips dragged down your neck.
your breath caught as your hands slipped to his chest, sliding lower, reaching for the hem of his shirt. he caught your wrists easily, pressing a soft kiss into your open palm.
“not yet,” he whispered, steady and certain. “this is about you.”
his mouth trailed down slowly, lingering against your collarbone before sinking down the curve between your breasts.
his lips lingered like he had all the time in the world, and every deliberate pause only made your need claw harder, trembling for the next touch.
he knew exactly what you needed without you ever having to say it.
he caught it in the way your legs tightened, in the way your hips tipped towards him, in the twitch of your hands gripping the sheets.
he noticed everything, always had, and now he was using it to unravel you piece by piece.
“i’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” he breathed against the lace of your bra, voice low like he almost couldn’t believe you were real.
his hand slid beneath you, guiding your back into a soft arch. the clasp of your bra gave way under his fingers like it had been waiting for him, undone without him ever breaking from your skin.
the straps slipped down your shoulders, one after the other, and his mouth followed their path in slow devotion.
every new inch of bare skin was met with his lips, each kiss a quiet vow that nothing about you would be left unseen. he traced you with patience, as though to prove that you were worth memorizing in full.
his lips found the swell of your breast, his hands steadying you against the tremor of your own breath.
his lips lingered wherever they touched, tracing the faint lines that marked your skin as though they were meant to be cherished, never concealed.
“so beautiful,” he said, voice quiet but unshakably sure, like the words had been waiting years to fall out of him. “every inch of you.”
his tongue flicked over your nipple and the moan that tore from you was answered instantly by his own; muffled against your breast, like the taste of you undid him as much as his touch wrecked you.
your thighs shifted restlessly, helpless in their search for relief.
“you’re already trembling,” he breathed, kissing down over your ribs, following the soft curve beneath your breast. “and i’ve hardly even touched you.”
your voice broke apart on his name. “gyu—”
he didn’t look up, lips still moving like prayer, heat spilling across your skin. “no one’s ever touched you like this, have they?”
the truth of it broke you open, unraveling you from the inside out. your breath faltered, stuttered, until it was nothing but gasps and moans, your hips tilting into his hands without thought.
“i—” the attempt at words dissolved into moans, “fuck—oh my god—”
his palms slid down, fingers tracing the edge of your shorts, stopping just above where you needed him most.
“yeah,” he said, already knowing the proof had been in your body all along. “i figured.”
instead of giving in right away, he bent to your waist, his lips dragging heat over the skin just above your shorts.
“they never earned this,” he said, voice quiet but edged with conviction. “never learned you like this.”
“oh god,” the sound tore out of you, thin and desperate, your fingers curling around his wrist with no strength behind them.
he took your weak hold as encouragement, not resistance.
“they didn’t take their time,” he whispered, lips tracing slowly over the softness of your stomach. “didn’t listen.”
your fingers found his hair, tugging softly, guiding him closer without words.
“p-please,” you pleaded, the word breaking before it even left your throat.
his head lifted just enough to meet your eyes, steadying you in an instant.
“oh, baby,” his voice softened as one hand left your waist, reaching for the pillow beside you.
he slid it close, eyes never leaving yours. “lift up for me, princess,” he coaxed gently. “just a little.”
you obeyed, lifting just enough for him to slide the pillow breath you. his hands adjusted it with care, easing your hips down until he was sure you were comfortable.
“there we go,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your skin. “that’s better.”
his thumb traced idle circles at your hip, grounding you while the other hand slid lower. when his fingers brushed the band of your shorts, he lifted his gaze, catching yours with a question he didn’t need to voice.
the quiet in his eyes made your chest ache; knowing he would wait if you asked him to. your body answered before your words could, hips tilting up in silent permission.
his lips tugged into a soft smile, eyes fixed on you as he drew the fabric down.
he shifted your shorts and underwear down slowly, guiding the fabric over your hips with deliberate care; every motion unhurried, every detail handled with care.
he gently lifted your leg, his hand steady at your calf. his lips pressed to your ankle first, soft and lingering, before traveling upward in slow succession.
each kiss trailed higher — the curve of your calf, the dip at your knee, the inside of your thigh — like he was intent on worshipping every step closer to where you ached for him most.
your nails dug into the sheets as his palms splayed over your thighs, easing them apart.
“breathe for me, sweetheart,” his voice was strained, as if he was holding himself back just to guide you. “just breathe.”
your body obeyed his words before your mind could, chest lifting with a shaky breath.
he didn’t let you finish it.
his mouth found you the next second; no hesitation, no warning. just him, warm and certain, like he’d been holding back only for as long as you could bear.
the pillow lifted you right into his mouth, every inch of you exposed to the slow drag of his tongue. his mouth worked with a patience that burned, each movement a vow to remember every detail of you.
your fingers threaded into his hair, desperate for something to hold on to.
“oh my—fuck—” the words tore out half-formed before collapsing into a moan you couldn’t contain.
he groaned in response, the sound reverberating against you as his grip tightened on your thighs, steadying you when your body tried to jolt away.
the way he moved against you was unhurried, and devastating in its precision. every swipe of his tongue felt like he already knew what would break you apart.
your chest heaved, breath shattering into pieces. you tightened your grip in his hair, dragging him closer without thinking.
he let you guide him, humming low like the taste of you was everything he’d ever wanted.
heat rushed through your stomach, twisting tighter with every pass of his mouth.
you were soaked. aching. unraveling with every second he stayed between your thighs.
“feels so good—” you choked out, hand fisting in the sheets now. “i can’t—it’s—gyu.”
he paused just long enough to glance up at you, eyes dark and blown wide with need. “you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby.” he praised, voice filled with honesty.
he found you again without pause, urgency written in every motion. his lips tightened over you, his tongue pushing deeper than before.
your head tipped back, voice spilling out like prayer. “don’t—please don’t—don’t stop—please.”
another groan broke free from his mouth, vibrating through your every nerve.
pleasure ripped through you so fast it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you clinging to him as though he was the only thing keeping you tethered.
“that’s it,” he whispered against you, voice low, almost reverent. “let it happen, baby.”
your thighs quivered around his shoulders, hips twisting helplessly.
his hold only tightened, dragging you deeper into every surge of pleasure until you had no other choice but to give in.
“gyu—fuck,” you gasped, tears stinging from the intensity of it all.
he slowed his pace, pressing soothing kisses as his thumbs circled your skin.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “you did so good for me.”
your chest heaved, lungs struggling to catch up with the aftershock.
when his gaze lifted, the change was immediate; eyes softening on sight, like tasting you had only deepened the reverence already written into him.
your lungs were still searching for air when he started climbing back up your body, mouth brushing every inch along the way.
your thigh. your stomach. the underside of your breast. your collarbone.
each kiss softer than the last, like he was pulling you back into yourself piece by piece.
by the time he found your mouth, you were already leaning into him, reaching before you realized it.
his lips lingered, smiling faintly against yours. “felt good, huh, beautiful girl?”
a broken laugh slipped out, shaky as you tried to catch your breath. “good?” you asked, head shaking in disbelief. “gyu, no one’s ever—” you paused, voice breaking, “not like that.”
his grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, soft but smug, like he couldn’t help himself.
“yeah?” he teased gently, eyes searching yours. “that’s because they were all idiots.”
he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before kissing the corner of your mouth. “you deserve more than they’ll ever know how to give.”
his words sank deep, leaving you trembling all over again. you tried to laugh, but it broke halfway when his lips caught yours, sealing the truth of his words right into you.
what began tender turned restless in seconds.
his mouth moved against yours, only you couldn’t help but deepen it, chasing him like you couldn’t get close enough.
his chest pinned you down as his hips dragged slowly between your thighs. you felt him, hard and thick through his sweats, sending another wave of heat to rip through you.
it didn’t matter that you’d already fallen apart once; your body lit up for him all over again.
a whimper caught in your throat, swallowed by his kiss as your hands scrambled higher, clawing at his shirt.
you tugged like you were frantic; like the thin barrier of fabric was the only thing keeping you from breathing.
“off,” you rasped against his lips, desperate, the word breaking. “please—take it off.”
“yes, ma’am.” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, but it vanished the second your fingers brushed his waistband like you couldn’t wait a second longer.
you shoved his sweats down with shaking hands, boxers going along, nearly knocking him off balance in your urgency.
he huffed a laugh, his eyes catching the hunger in yours. “greedy, are we?” he chuckled, sounding more undone than smug.
“shut up,” you shot back, no patience for his teasing.
your eyes had already landed on him; thick and already slick at the tip.
heat rushed hot up your chest, a grin tugging weakly at your lips despite yourself. “so that’s what i do to you?”
he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “you know what you do to me.”
“still,” you whispered, tugging him closer, “it’s nice to have the evidence.”
a rough laugh slipped from him, cut short as his mouth slammed back onto yours, heavy with need.
your legs wrapped around his waist without thought, but he held himself back; grinding his hard length through your slick folds with a patience that felt merciless, his lips still on yours like he needed to drink down every sound before giving you more.
“turn over for me, baby.” his voice was rough at the edges, but his touch stayed soft, guiding you onto your stomach like he was handling something precious.
as you shifted, the pillow resting underneath your hips slipped slightly.
before you could react, his hand was already there, sliding it back beneath your stomach with quiet care; making sure the angle favoured your comfort more than his own.
“there we go,” he muttered, like he was admiring a work of art. “just like that, angel. fuck—look at you.”
you could feel the heat of him behind you, hovering close, and the way his hands coasted up and down your sides; thumbs pressing in like he was trying to memorize every inch.
“you’re unreal,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “my fucking dream girl.”
his palms settled at your waist, urging your hips higher before gliding up your spine, pressing lightly between your shoulders until your chest sank into the mattress.
“fuck, baby,” he groaned as he lined himself up. “you’re gonna kill me.”
the blunt press of him at your entrance had you gasping, nails twisting in the sheets.
“gyu—” your voice cracked, the sound nothing but a plea.
“i know, i know.” his hand smoothed down your side, soothing you. “just breathe, beautiful. i’ve got you.”
he slid in with agonizing slowness, every inch a stretch that stole the air directly from your lungs.
a broken sound escaped you, and his groan followed fast, spilling into the space between your bodies.
“f-fuck—” your cried helplessly, “it’s—oh my—fuck—”
he bottomed out with a shudder, his hips pressed flush against you, both of you shaking with the effort it took not to fall apart right there.
his forehead dropped between your shoulders, breath hot against your skin.
“jesus christ—” he groaned, the sound rough and reverent all at once. “you feel—fuck, baby, you feel insane.”
your back arched, body clenching around him, another helpless moan tearing through you. “too much—no, it’s—god, gyu—it’s so good.” the words spilled broken, tumbling past your lips before you could catch them.
his hand slid to your stomach, pulling you up into him, grounding you through the dizzy stretch. “that’s it,” he murmured, kissing along your shoulder blade. “you’re doing—f-fuck—you’re perfect—fucking made for me.”
your thighs quivered, but the need to feel him move was stronger than the ache. you shifted back against him, desperate. “please…move—i need—”
he groaned again, like your words undid him. “fuck—yeah, baby, i know.”
he slowly eased his hips back, dragging himself out until you thought you’d break, then pushed in again, steady and deep.
the rhythm was unhurried but merciless; every stroke deliberate, every thrust angled like he knew exactly how to pull you apart.
after a few slow strokes, his pace quickened; each thrust sinking deeper, chasing every sound that spilled from you.
“there it is—fuck, yeah. that’s it,” he breathed, forehead tipping down for a beat before he straightened again, eyes locked on the way your body yielded to him.
your moans spilled raw into the mattress, high pitched and broken, your hips rocking back into him without thought. “oh my god—don’t stop—please, gyu, don’t—”
he answered with another thrust, sharp enough to punch a cry straight out of you.
“never,” he panted, jaw tight, reverence spilling through every word. “you feel too fucking good—i could stay here forever.”
your walls clenched tight around him, the build snapping faster than you could process.
“gyu—i’m gonna—fuck—” the cry tore out of you as your whole body bowed into the mattress, release ripping straight through you.
he groaned at the feel of you breaking around him, hips stuttering once before he forced himself to steady, dragging it out for you instead of chasing his own end.
“fuck—yeah—” his voice cracked. “that’s it, angel…let go for me—just like that.”
your thighs shook uncontrollably, but his hands steadied you; one gripping your waist, the other pressing into your stomach, keeping you grounded as you unraveled.
the sob that followed buried itself in the sheets, your release hitting so hard it fractured every breath into ragged pieces.
he bent over you, lips trailing soft kisses along your spine, his hips still moving but gentler now, easing you down instead of pulling you higher.
“i’ve got you,” he whispered into your skin, kissing your shoulder like a vow. “just breathe for me, angel…that’s all you need to do.”
he eased out of you slowly, the sudden emptiness pulling a broken whimper from your throat before you could stop it. “gyu—w-why…what are you—”
“shh, i know, sweetheart,” he soothed, palms steady as they skimmed your sides, guiding you gently. “just needed to see you. fuck—look at you. you think i could stop now?”
desire threaded through his voice, yet his hands remained careful, guiding you as if you were fragile in his hold. he eased you onto your back, settling your hips back onto the pillow with a care that made it clear he wouldn’t let you feel anything but comfort.
you let him move you, pliant in his hold, your body trembling as you blinked up at him. his hand cradled the back of your neck, thumb tracing lightly like he needed to feel you breathe.
he kissed your temple first, lingering there, before trailing down to your cheek.
his mouth wandered unhurriedly across your skin; tracing over your brow, brushing the bridge of your nose, grazing the corner of your lips.
“hi, beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, words cracked but full of awe.
your smile barely surfaced, dazed and weak, but it was there. “hi,” you breathed back.
his forehead tipped to yours, lips brushing in a fleeting kiss. “you okay?” he asked, though the look in his eyes said he already knew the answer.
your breath caught, a soft laugh tumbling out with your words. “more than okay.”
the corner of his mouth curved into a soft smile before he slid his hand down to steady your hip.
he lined himself up and pushed back in with one long, steady stroke. the stretch tore a gasp from your throat, your body clenching around him so hard it forced a groan straight out of him.
“jesus—” his voice cracked, forehead pressing to yours again. “baby, you feel—fuck—you’re so tight.”
your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, mouth falling open on a sound you couldn’t swallow down.
“gyu—” his name slipped from your lips, almost a sob. “it’s—s-so deep—oh my god.”
his palm pressed firm to your stomach, making sure you felt every inch of him. “there we go,” he rasped, kissing your jaw through ragged breaths. “you’re taking me so well, beautiful. you’re—fuck, you’re perfect.”
his hips pulled back, just enough to make you feel the loss, before he drove in sharper. the force knocked the air from your chest as your nails clawed down his shoulder blades.
“eyes on me,” he mumbled, catching your gaze. “don’t look away, baby—want to see you fall apart.”
your gaze clung to his until the next thrust stole it away, lids fluttering shut as another cry tore loose from your throat.
“no, no—look at me,” he urged, groaning when you blinked back up at him, glassy-eyed and trembling. “that’s it. good girl.”
your moans came fractured, tumbling past your lips with every push. “please—gyu, please, just like that—f-fuck—feels so good, so good—”
“fuck—” his voice cracked, hips driving harder, the sound of you begging ripping the control straight out of him.
“oh my god—i’m gonna—” the words broke into a sob, your voice splintering. “mingyu, i—fuck—i can’t—”
his thrusts faltered, a groan tearing from his chest as he forced himself deeper. “yes, you can, angel. just a little more—fuck—i can feel you. you’re right there.”
you broke apart around him, crying out his name like it was the only word left in you. “gyu—”
“that’s it—oh, fuck—that’s it, baby,” he gasped, forehead dropping to yours as his own rhythm fell apart. “come with me—yeah, just like that—fuck—”
your third release tore through you, carrying his first with it. your body squeezed around him, causing him to let out a wrecked moan as he came inside of you.
he stilled for a moment, chest pressed to yours as both of you trembled through the last shreds of release.
there was no detachment. no instinct to turn away. he hadn’t looked anywhere but at you.
when his breathing finally slowed, he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw. “are you okay?” he asked.
you nodded, unable to trust your voice.
he gave you a moment longer before easing out, slow and careful, drawing a broken whimper from your throat.
his mouth followed the loss; kissing the inside of your thigh, the curve of your hip, and the hollow below your ribs; each one gentle and deliberate in their own way.
“stay here,” he said softly. “just rest, baby.”
your head fell back against the pillow in the faintest nod, eyes glassy with exhaustion.
he lingered a second longer, his thumb brushing your cheek in a touch that felt reluctant, before finally pushing himself to stand.
he bent down to grab his boxers from where they’d been tossed, sliding them on around his hips.
the quiet between you stretched thin, filled only by the sound of his breathing and the faint creak of the floor.
by the time he reached the door, your chest was already tight. you stayed where you were, staring up at the ceiling, the fan turning in lazy circles above you.
the longer you watched, the more the quiet shifted.
at first it was just silence, but eventually, that silence turned into space, which slowly turned into panic.
you weren’t naïve. you knew the script.
sex that good, that messy, that consuming, usually ended the same way.
a roll to the side. maybe a muttered ‘that was fun’. the scrape of denim. the excuse about an early morning.
sometimes the door would shut before you’d even pulled the sheets over yourself.
your heart sank.
what if this was that moment?
what if you’d just traded years of friendship for a few hours of wreckless, selfish pleasure?
what if you’d just ruined everything?
before the thoughts could spiral any further, the door creaked open again.
“hey,” he spoke softly, not wanting to startle you.
you blinked towards him, body still draped exactly where he’d left you.
his boxers hung low on his hips, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, chest still flushed from the heat of you. a towel was slung over his shoulder, two water bottles gripped in one hand, and a warm cloth in the other.
your throat went tight. “you came back,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could catch them.
his face softened immediately, something tender breaking through. “of course i did,” he said, stepping closer. “what—did you think i’d just disappear after that?”
you tried to smile, but it wavered.
“hey,” he said again, lowering onto the edge of the bed. “don’t go quiet on me now, pretty girl. not after you already woke all of the neighbors up.”
a soft, broken laugh escaped your lips.
he bent to press a soft kiss to your knee. “scoot up a little, sweetheart. let me take care of you.”
his hands moved with quiet certainty, every touch measured and unhurried. patience lingered in everything he did; a tenderness you weren’t used to.
you felt the difference in your chest before you even felt it between your thighs.
no one had ever done this for you before.
the most you’d ever been given was a half-hearted towel tossed your way, like it was your job to deal with the aftermath alone.
but here he was, treating you like you were something worth handling with delicacy.
“i kept the pillow there,” he said quietly, “’cause i figured you’d be sore. didn’t want you shifting too much.”
he finished with quiet care, dropping the cloth and towel into your hamper before reaching for your hoodie on the floor.
he eased it over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves, tugging it down until you were completely covered.
as he climbed back into the bed, you reached for him without thinking twice.
he was already leaning into you, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against him like it was the only place you belonged.
“you still with me?” he asked, lips brushing your hair.
you nodded, eyes still shut until his voice pulled you back.
you blinked up at him as he dipped his head, catching your gaze. “you scared me for a second.”
your voice was small. “i just…wasn’t expecting you to come back.”
his brow furrowed, a little hurt, though his tone stayed soft. “come on. you really thought i’d leave you like that?”
you huffed out a laugh. “it wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”
his chest rose on a sigh as he shifted to really look at you. “baby…what kind of assholes are you fucking?”
the bluntness startled a laugh out of you. “you’ve heard all the stories,” you reminded him.
“unfortunately.” his hand stayed warm at your spine, steadying you. “and i hated every single one of them.”
you froze, but he continued nonetheless.
“you don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “listening to you try to laugh off how some guy left before you could even breathe again—” he paused, exhaling hard through his nose. “i swear, prison stripes nearly sounded worth it.”
“you never said anything,” you said, genuinely surprised at his words.
his lips lifted into a small smile, but the weight in his eyes gave him away. “never felt like my place.”
“gyu…” you whispered.
he shook his head gently, already seeing where your thoughts were headed.
“you really don’t get it, do you?” his voice softened, a little rough at the edges.
“get what?” you murmured as your eyes searched his face for any clues on what he could be referring to.
his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, so tender it made your chest ache.
“how easy you are to love.”
you froze, lungs stuttering like they’d completely forgotten how to work.
“i’ve wanted to do this right for so long,” he whispered, leaning his forehead to yours. “not just the sex. all of it. making you laugh. holding you when you cry. being the one who never leaves. giving you the kind of love you should’ve had all along.”
your lips parted, but no sound followed. the weight of his words pressed down until all you could do was hold his gaze, completely undone by the gentleness in his voice.
“and if i ever have to hear about one more guy who made you feel like you were too much, or too emotional, or not worth sticking around for…” he shook his head again, softer this time. “i’ll lose my fucking mind. because you—”
he swallowed hard, trying to find the courage to continue. “you deserve someone who worships the ground you walk on. someone who thanks god every night that you chose them.”
you blinked hard, tears threatening to fall as a soft laugh escaped you. “you’re not supposed to make me cry after sex, idiot.”
“i meant what i said, you know,” he told you, his lips curving into that same boyish grin you’ve adored for years. “and i know my feelings aren’t one sided, either, ms. choreplay.”
tears slipped down your cheeks as you let out a shaky laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. “you are such an asshole, kim mingyu.”
“am i wrong?” he smirked. “because you—” he paused, tapping your thigh, “—basically had tears running down your thighs from me washing, like, two dishes.”
you groaned, burying your face in his chest. “please never phrase it like that again.”
he laughed, the sound warm against your cheek. “don’t act like you didn’t whimper when i changed the garbage bag.”
you pulled back just enough to glare at him. “my god, you’re always so full of yourself.”
his grin only widened, cocky and unbothered. “wait till you find out i sort my laundry by whites and darks.”
pairing - non idol ! seungcheol x f.reader [fluff/angst]
summary → you and seungcheol became best friends freshman year of college, drifting into something softer and unspoken by junior year when you became roommates. now, after graduating, he has one week left before enlistment— a countdown tied to his future at his father’s company and the life waiting for him after completing service. but between a simple haircut in your shared bathroom and the weight of leaving, everything he’s kept buried finally spills out, because what he’s really afraid of isn’t enlistment… it’s leaving the person he’s been secretly in love with for years
word count - 3.7k
warnings! → friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, mutual pining, love confession, yearning, seungcheol being devastatingly in love, military enlistment mention, pre-enlistment emotions, kissing/making out- no smut, years of repressed feelings, bathroom confession scene, soft/domestic intimacy, suggestive ending, happy ending, two idiots finally communicating, *additional parts will probably be written
The bathroom smelled like vanilla, clean laundry, and Seungcheol’s cologne. The one he always wore without thinking. That warm, slightly spicy scent that clung to his hoodies and lingered in the apartment long after he’d walked out of a room.
It mixed with the softness of vanilla melting through the air in slow, comforting waves, trying to wrap the moment in something gentler than what it really was.
Clean laundry hung nearby from the rack beside the shower, still faintly warm from the dryer, fabric softener folding itself into the air every time you moved. It made the space feel lived in, like any other night, like nothing was about to change.
Like he wasn’t leaving in a week.
You’d lit the candle earlier to keep things feeling normal. Because to you, this wasn’t goodbye.
Not really.
It was just something difficult he had to get through before coming back home again.
But sitting in front of the mirror while strands of dark hair fell steadily around him, Seungcheol felt every inch of this moment settling into his chest with terrifying finality.
The low buzz of the clippers sounded too loud in the small bathroom. Every pass against his scalp stripped away another piece of familiarity, and with each lock of hair hitting the tile floor, the reality became harder to ignore.
One week.
One week before he left behind the apartment that had become more his home than any place ever had before.
One week before leaving you.
Meanwhile, you stayed focused carefully behind him. Occasionally brushing loose strands from his shoulders and chatting softly about completely ordinary things. The grocery list for tomorrow, your cafe manager finally fixing the broken espresso machine, and which of your friends would inevitably cry the most dramatically at the enlistment send off.
Like this was temporary. Like the two of you would naturally fall back into this exact rhythm again once he returned.
And maybe that should’ve comforted him. Instead, it only made the ache in his chest worse.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and focused on the careful motion of your wrist.
One more pass.
The clippers hummed over the back of his head, leaving behind soft dark stubble. You stepped back slightly, examining your work before flicking the power off. Silence settled heavily between you.
“There,” you said quietly.
You brushed the loose hair from his neck before running your palm gently over the freshly shaved skin. The texture made your chest ache unexpectedly.
“All done.” A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned down into his line of sight through the mirror. “Wow. Okay, it definitely looks weird.”
His brows lifted faintly.
“Not bad weird,” you corrected quickly, laughing softly. “Just.. you’ve never had your hair this short before.” Your fingers rubbed over the top of his head again playfully. “You actually look really cute.”
You moved around the stool until you stood between his knees, his legs naturally parting to make room for you in the cramped bathroom. Your hands stayed on his head, thumbs brushing along his temples while you grinned down at him.
It was the smile that always ruined him.
The one that crinkled your eyes slightly. That he’d watched across lecture halls and grocery aisles and lazy Sunday mornings in your shared apartment kitchen. The one that had slowly, disastrously made him fall in love with you years ago.
But instead of smiling back, his expression only seemed to sink further.
Your own smile faltered.
“Cheol?”
He looked away. His gaze dropped to the floor instead, landing on the ridiculous fuzzy green house slippers covering your feet.
The pair he bought you two winters ago after you’d spent twenty minutes dramatically mourning them in the middle of a department store because you couldn’t afford “unnecessary purchases” until your next paycheck from the café.
You’d worn them nearly every day since.
“Seungcheol,” you said again, softer this time, but still nothing.
You reached down, fingers curling around his chin until you gently tilted his face back toward you.
“Earth to Cheol?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes still locked downwards.
“I don’t want to go.”
The words came out rough, and your chest tightened immediately.
“I know,” you said carefully. “It’s not exactly an easy thing.”
You tried to give a reassuring smile again, thumb brushing along his cheek.
“But you’ll be back before you know it. And then you’ll start at your dad’s company and everything’ll work out.” You shrugged lightly. “Unless you can convince your dad to rearrange the plan somehow?”
He shook his head once.
“That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
His eyes finally met yours fully, and it nearly undid him.
Because you were looking at him the same way you always did. Soft, patient, worried for him before yourself. Standing between his knees in those stupid fuzzy green slippers, your fingers still warm against his skin from where you’d rubbed over his freshly shaved head, completely unaware you were holding his entire heart in your hands.
God. How was he supposed to leave this?
How was he supposed to pack up two years of shared mornings, late night convenience store runs and you humming in the kitchen while making coffee half asleep and just, walk away from it? From you?
His chest tightened painfully. All he could think about was time.
A week from now, he’d be gone, and life would keep moving without him.
You’d still go to the café on weekends. Burn pancakes every Sunday morning because you refuse to turn the heat down, and still laugh so hard at dumb movies you’d snort without realizing it.
But eventually, someone else might be there to see it. Someone else might start memorizing the little things about you the way he had.
Someone else might carry your grocery bags, and sit in his spot beside you at bars. Walk home with you at night, or hear you call their name from another room instead of his.
The thought made him feel sick.
Because Seungcheol had spent years pretending what existed between you was enough. Pretending friendship didn’t already feel dangerously close to love. Pretending he could survive watching you belong to somebody else someday.
But now there was an expiration date looming over him, and suddenly every second with you felt fragile. Temporary.
His throat tightened before speaking again.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
The words came out quieter than he intended. Not because he was unsure, but because saying them out loud made everything terrifyingly real.
Your heart stumbled at the words, a sharp, disorienting skip you immediately tried to dismiss. No, that wasn’t what he meant. It couldn’t be.
You latched onto the thought almost instinctively, like a reflex. Like you’d done a hundred times before whenever something about him felt like it tipped too close to something you weren’t supposed to look at too long.
He’s Seungcheol. Your best friend. Your roommate. The person who had been woven into the shape of your days for four years until it didn’t even feel like separate lives anymore.
That’s all this was. It had to be.
So you laughed softly anyways, a little too quick, a little too light, as if you could smooth the moment over before it had time to turn into anything else in your mind.
“You’re such a baby,” you teased gently. “I’ll still be here when you get out.” You squeezed his shoulders. “Plus, you’ll get leave sometimes, right? We’ll still hang out.”
He shook his head again, sharper this time.
Before you could say anything else, his hands suddenly wrapped around your wrists, stopping your movements against his shoulders. Slowly, he slid his hands down until his fingers intertwined with yours. And when he spoke again, his voice had changed completely.
Serious. Low. Almost trembling.
“I don’t want to leave you,” He repeated, his tone vulnerable and bare.
The air shifted. Your smile faded entirely now.
“Cheol..”
“I don’t want to leave and come back and..” He exhaled shakily, eyes squeezing shut for a second before reopening. “Be replaced.”
Confusion flickered across your face.
“Replaced? Seungcheol, what are you talking about? You’ll always—”
“I don’t want another guy taking my place in your life.”
The words hit you so hard you went completely still. For a second, your brain genuinely couldn’t process them. Not because you didn’t understand what he was saying, but because some terrified hidden part of you had spent years convincing yourself you imagined all of it.
The lingering looks, the way his hand always found the small of your back in crowded places. How naturally the two of you moved around each other like you’d built a life together without realizing it. The quiet domesticity of him bringing you home your favorite snacks without asking. Falling asleep together on the couch, sharing inside jokes, or tying his tie for him when he has to visit his fathers company building.
Like he belonged in every crevice of your daily life.
You had spent so long forcing yourself not to read into it. Because Seungcheol was Seungcheol. Your best friend, Your roommate, the person who had become home so slowly you never even noticed it happening.
And loving him had always felt dangerous. So instead, you suppressed it.
Buried every flutter in your chest when strangers mistakenly called you his girlfriend. How much you loved hearing him laugh from another room. Locked away the embarrassing ache you felt whenever he looked especially handsome before going out somewhere. Ignoring the way your heart would sink anytime another woman flirted with him in front of you.
You told yourself it was safer that way. Better to keep him as your best friend than risk losing him entirely. But now he was sitting in front of you looking terrified of losing you, and suddenly every moment over the last four years came crashing together so violently it almost made your chest hurt.
Your throat tightened painfully as you stared at him, your pulse pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.
Meanwhile Seungcheol looked seconds away from unraveling completely, like he already regretted saying it out loud.
And somehow that made it worse. Because all this time, he’d been carrying the same feelings you had.
He laughed once under his breath, but there was nothing amusing about it.
“We live together,” he said quietly. “We cook together. We grocery shop together. We do laundry together. We spend every stupid Sunday rotting on the couch watching movies neither of us actually likes because we’re too lazy to change them.”
Your lips parted slightly.
“And somewhere along the way my feelings stopped being normal.”” He shook his head, his thumbs rubbed nervously against your knuckles.
“I like when strangers think we’re together.”
Your breath caught.
“I like when we argue over ramen flavors in the store and old women smile at us like we’re married already.” His eyes flickered up to yours finally. “I like when we go out drinking and some guy starts trying to flirt with you, but the second I walk back over beside you he leaves because he thinks I’m your boyfriend.” His voice softened painfully. “I like taking care of you.”
Your chest felt impossibly tight now, every feeling you had spent years carefully locking away had suddenly cracked open all at once.
It hurt. Not in a bad way, not really. Just, too much.
Too much affection. Too much relief. Too much longing you’d trained yourself not to touch because wanting Seungcheol had always felt like standing too close to the edge of something dangerous.
Your eyes burned as you stared at him. At the boy who had unknowingly become the center of your entire life, and now he was sitting here looking at you like losing you would ruin him.
The realization nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Because all this time, you thought you were the only one aching quietly through all those little moments.
All those nights lying awake in your room wondering what would happen if you reached for him first. All those mornings watching him half asleep in the kitchen, thinking with painful certainty that someday another woman would get this version of him instead.
But he was looking at you now with the same fear.
“I like knowing how you take your coffee.” He laughed quietly. “I like that you steal my hoodies and leave hair ties everywhere and sing badly when you clean the apartment. I like that you always save me the last dumpling even though it’s your favorite food.” His eyes glistened slightly. “I like coming home to you.”
The room felt too small, too warm.
The tiny bathroom that had always felt ordinary suddenly seemed intimate in a way it never had before. His knees brushing against your thighs, your hands still trapped in his, the soft buzz of the overhead light filling the silence between every shaky breath.
You could hear everything. The uneven rhythm of his breathing. The faint drip of the faucet. Your own heartbeat pounding violently in your ears.
And Seungcheol was close. So close enough that you could see the nervous swallow in his throat. Close enough to notice the slight tremble in his fingers where they held yours. Close enough that if you leaned forward even an inch, both of your foreheads would touch.
It made you dizzy.
Because suddenly every little domestic moment you both shared in this apartment over the years felt charged with something you’d spent too long pretending not to notice.
Late night conversations in this same bathroom while brushing your teeth. Him standing shirtless in the doorway after showers with wet hair dripping onto the floor while you complained at him to clean it up. You sitting on the counter while he shaved, talking about absolutely nothing for an hour because being near each other had always been enough.
How had you both survived living like this for years without combusting?
The warmth crawling up your neck had nothing to do with the bathroom anymore. It was him.
The way he was looking at you now, open and terrified, aching with love he could barely contain made the entire room feel suffocatingly small.. and he still wasn’t done.
“I love how excited you get over stupid little things,” he whispered. “Like finding books at thrift stores or those ugly ceramic frogs you keep collecting for some reason—”
“They’re vintage,” you muttered automatically through the overwhelming emotion building in your chest.
He huffed out a broken laugh. “See?”
And there it was again. That ridiculous, earnest defensiveness over something objectively stupid. Even now, standing in the middle of a life altering confession, both of you seconds from emotionally unraveling, you still couldn’t help correcting him about the ceramic frogs. It hit him with such painful affection he thought his chest might split open.
Because that was you.
You cared so deeply about little things, threw your whole heart behind harmless, ridiculous things without embarrassment. You made ordinary moments feel alive simply because you existed inside them so fully, and Seungcheol had spent years helplessly falling in love with every tiny piece of it.
The way you argued passionately about thrift store finds. How you got distracted halfway through serious conversations because a dog walked past the window. The way you always, always found something to love in things other people overlooked.
Even now, with tears gathering in your eyes and his confession hanging heavily between you, your instinct has been to defend your stupid frog collection.
God. How was he ever supposed to leave someone like you behind?
Your eyes burned.
“I’m in love with you,” he finally admitted.
The words hung between you, raw and terrifying.
“And I’m horrified that while I’m gone, somebody else is gonna get all of this instead.” His voice cracked slightly now. “Somebody else gets to live with you and cook with you and hear you laugh at two in the morning and hold your hand in public and–” He stopped to breathe shakily. “I had to tell you before I left,” he whispered. “Even if you don’t feel the same. Because I think it would actually kill me if I came back and you belonged to someone else.”
Silence. Complete silence. Seungcheol’s heart pounded so violently he thought he might actually throw up.
Then suddenly, you laughed.
His brows furrowed immediately.
“What?”
You laughed harder, one hand flying up to cover your mouth as tears filled your eyes now.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked, completely bewildered as you breathed between laughs.
“We are two huge idiots.”
He blinked at you.
“What?”
You shook your head, smiling so brightly it nearly knocked the breath from him.
Then you leaned down and kissed him.
Seungcheol froze. For one stunned second, his brain stopped functioning altogether.
But then his hands were suddenly at your waist, gripping tightly as he kissed you back with years of buried longing crashing into the moment all at once.
The kiss deepened instantly. Messy, desperate, relieved.
You could feel the shaky exhale leave him as he pulled you closer between his legs, your fingers sliding over the newly shaved sides of his head as you kissed him again and again.
When you finally pulled apart for air, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours in disbelief.
“You idiot,” you whispered fondly, still smiling like you couldn’t quite believe him.
“You love me?” he asked, quieter this time, like saying it wrong might make it disappear. Like he still couldn’t fully trust it was real.
You hummed, pretending to think about it as your fingers absently traced the back of his hand.
“Unfortunately for you,” you said lightly, “yes.”
His breath caught just slightly. Then, like something finally clicking into place behind his eyes, his expression shifted.
“Since when?”
The question wasn’t playful anymore. It was careful and serious.
Your teasing smile softened at the edges, but you didn’t look away. “Junior year,” you said simply.
His brows pulled together immediately. “Junior year?”
You nodded once, like it should’ve been obvious, but it wasn’t. And you let him sit in it for a second longer before you added, softer now, just a little less teasing.
“You came back to the apartment at like 1am during midterms week,” you said. “And I was on the kitchen floor because I’d completely given up on studying.” Something in his expression shifted instantly.
“Oh.”
You nodded, watching him remember it piece by piece.
“I wasn’t sick,” you continued. “I wasn’t anything dramatic. I was just.. exhausted. Like, the kind where you feel stupid for crying but you can’t stop anyway.” His thumb tightened slightly against your hand. “And you didn’t try to fix it,” you said, voice quieter now. “You just sat down next to me on the floor like it was the most normal thing in the world and started going through my notes with me.”
A faint, almost disbelieving smile flickered on his lips. He remembered now, too. Especially how pretty you still looked when you sat in front of the kitchen stove covered in a sea of notebook paper.
“And you didn’t say anything about it being late, or how tired you were,” you added. “You just stayed until I stopped crying.” You shrugged slightly, like you were trying to make it sound small.
Seungcheol went quiet. Really quiet. Like he was realizing something he’d never considered before, that for him it had just been another night of taking care of you, showing up for you, but for you, it had been the night you started loving him.
A disbelieving laugh escaped him.
Then you grinned suddenly, mischief returning to your expression.
“So while you’re gone,” you said casually, “which room should I combine our stuff into?”
He blinked.
“Huh?”
“You know,” you continued innocently, in a way only you could. “Since obviously one room becomes ours and the other becomes a spare room.”
He let out a loud scoff laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before suddenly standing up. You squealed as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you effortlessly.
“Wow,” you laughed breathlessly, your arms sliding around his shoulders while your legs wrapped around his waist. “Someone got confident really fast.”
Seungcheol looked up at you with a grin that was equal parts smug and completely lovestruck.
“You kissed me first,” he pointed out.
“You confessed first.”
“And now I’m making up for lost time.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly at the way he said it, low and certain, like something in him had finally snapped after years of holding himself back.
You tried to laugh it off anyway. “Oh, so this is who you are now?”
“This,” he said, tightening his grip slightly beneath your thighs, “is who I’ve been trying not to be around you for four years.”
Your stomach flipped violently.
“Cheol–”
“I’m serious.” His eyes flickered down to your lips again. “Do you know how hard it’s been living with you looking like that all the time?”
You let out an incredulous laugh. “Looking like what?”
“Like my girlfriend,” he answered immediately.
The bluntness of it made your breath catch.
“And now you actually are. No take backs,” he murmured, sounding a little stunned by the realization himself. Then his mouth curled into something more teasing. “So yeah,” he said softly, stepping closer until your back brushed the bathroom wall, “I’m gonna be confident for a minute.”
Before you could recover from that, he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, like now that he finally had permission he never wanted to stop touching you.
Butterflies exploded in your stomach.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“We can figure the room thing out later,” he murmured. “But we only have one week before I leave.” Your breath caught at the look in his eyes. “And there are a lot of things I’ve been fantasizing about doing with you.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly.
“Choi Seungcheol!”
He grinned for the first time all night. Then he carried you out of the bathroom and down the hall toward his bedroom while your laughter echoed through the apartment the two of you had unknowingly turned into a home together years ago.
drabble.⠀⠀wc: 676⠀⠀tags: seuncheol x fem!reader, stablished relationship, fluff, pet names (cheollie, baby/babe, princess), domestic, slighty suggestive.
“Cheollie!” you whimpered, crossing the front door with the biggest pout on your lips and glistening eyes. That was enough for Seungcheol to stop doing whatever he was busy with and give you his full attention.
He was sprawled all over the couch, watching some TV junk food in a plain white oversized tee and pajama pants. He looked very cozy and relaxed. Yet, in the moment you started walking towards him, looking like a kicked puppy, all his muscles tensed, then he immediately fixed his posture, opened his arms, and pulled you into his lap.
“What happened?” he said with a gentle voice, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Mm?”
“I had a terrible day”, you hid your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder, melting into him.
“Did you?”
You nodded.
“I woke up late, with a terrible tummy ache and cramps”, you began telling him your tale of woe, “my breakfast was tasteless, my coffee went all cold and disgusting because it took me a while to finish my boring breakfast, and you know how I hate cold coffee,” you pouted.
“Yeah, baby, I know.” his hand found its way beneath your skirt, tenderly caressing the side of your bare thigh under the thin fabric.
“Then there was so much traffic, it was unbearable. The weather is so hot and I felt like melting the throughout the day. My lunch was also bad and I missed you the whole day…” you whined again, hugging him tightly.
Choi Seungcheol is a very observant man. He knew a scenario like this would happen soon, since last week you were all over him, touching here and there, always looking for an excuse to be very close and actively seeking intimacy with him.
At first, he thought it was your ovulation making you be so clingy and need him badly, but then, in the middle of a messy make-out session, he did a quick calculation and realized that your period was just around the corner.
He didn’t complain whatsoever. He enjoyed intimacy with you just as much as you, but he knew he had to be prepared for anything you needed; he bought painkillers, refilled your pads drawer with large and overnight-sized pads. He bought some chocolate and your favorite red fruit tea. He even bought you two new sets of cotton panties just to make sure you had something comfortable to wear.
You’ve told him multiple times that he doesn’t have to do all that, that you can buy your period supplies by yourself, but he just won’t listen.
It's not like you don’t appreciate it. You do. And you always keep in mind how attentive he is. You simply don’t want to feel like a bother.
The first time you voiced the fear of annoying him with your menstrual stuff one random night in bed, he almost gasped. The expression on his face was nearly offended.
“Babe… What?” he blinked twice, before practically smothering you in bed, “don’t you ever think such a thing again. Nothing about you could ever bother me.”
“You’re being a little dramatic.”
“I can’t let you think you could ever annoy me with something like that. Maybe with refilling the water pitcher, but not this.”
“Ugh, back off, you're so annoying” you pushed his shoulders, trying to get him off of you, but it was useless; he’s just too big and strong.
“Mm, no,” he teased, and peppered your face with small kisses between whispers of sweet nothings.
You’re truly grateful he’s stubborn because, if he weren’t, he wouldn’t be cuddling you on the couch. His hand deep under your dress, stroking the small of your back, where he knows it always aches the most when you have cramps.
He’s carefully listening to you, kissing your forehead every once in a while, and holding you so steadily, he grounds you with soothing caresses.
“Tomorrow will be a brighter day, princess. And if it’s not, I’ll be here just to hold you and love you. As always.”
Pure self indulgence because I'm on my period and that was literaly my day. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Likes, rebogls and comments are appreciated 🫶🏼 specially if you have any writing suggestions. English is not my first language so I'd like to know how I'm doing so far, hehe. 🩷
𐙚 Tropes : cheating , angst , smut , secret and forbidden relationship
𐙚 Word count : 12.6k
𐙚 Summary : I spent our entire relationship thinking I was the moth, being pulled into him even when I knew I shouldn't have. But now I'm realizing all this time, he was the moth and I was the forbidden flame that burnt him everyday, and still kept his life bright.
[part one] , [part two]
Check the trigger warnings in here
Have you even been in situations in life that you never thought yourself to be stuck in? Because you have always believed that no matter what, you will never make decisions that’ll end you up there. Because you could never be that cold-hearted, that sinful.
Situations that make you think ‘what would my friends think of me if they found out where I am right now?’, ‘what would the past-me think about me if she saw me right now?’
The answer to neither of those questions, or other similar ones are good. Both the past-me and my friends would be disappointed and disgusted with me.
I am disgusted with me.
It’s a shame my logical senses haven’t been working for a long time.
They say ‘How you get it is how you lose it’.
I always liked that phrase. I always believed in it. It meant that there’s a balance in the world. That karma works.
Now, with where I am, figuratively and literally, I can’t help wondering is this how she got him?
Is that why she’s losing him to me like this?
Or am I the start of this cycle? Am I the person who made him to be that guy, and I will lose him exactly how I got him?
I can’t seem to stop my head from going there every time I’m alone with my thoughts.
Maybe it’s guilt digging its ugly claws at my insides whenever I'm with him. Because in my conscious I know he isn’t mine and he shouldn’t be here with me. That I have him now because we played the unfair game.
Because I knew when we were done spending our limited time together, he had to go back home. To her.
I think that was the most painful part that made my heart ache. That he lived with her. That every time we were together, he had come from the house he shared with her. And afterwards, he had to go back there.
But what could I say? I was the side lady. The mistress and the heartless villainous bitch. And she was the girlfriend. The innocent victim.
I didn’t have the right to miss him. That right belonged to her. I didn’t have the right to call him mine, because he was hers. I didn’t have the right to love him and receive his love back because all the love was supposed to be for them. Not me.
My self-loathing comes to a halt when I feel him stirring on the mattress behind me. His soft and warm touch on my back. He moves a little more on the bed, turning fully so his front almost touches my back.
We are tangled in my soft and freshly washed sheets. The gentle touch of his fingertips drawing small patterns on my back from shoulder to shoulder makes the hair on my back rise and an electric shiver to crawl down my spine.
My shoulders draw inward a little from the soft touches. I know I just spent the first few
minutes of my day loathing myself for who I've become and what we’re doing, but I can’t help the happy content smile that grows on my lips. My eyes closing on their own record while I enjoy his gentle touches.
I don’t get to wake up to his soothing embrace very often. Occasions like this are painfully rare. And highly treasured and cherished.
I slowly turn to face him. We’re so close I can smell the faint scent of his warm citrusy perfume
on his naked body. Every time he visits my apartment, I end up sniffing the scent trail he leaves
on my sheets and pillowcase after he leaves.
I press my nose to my pillowcase to get a stronger smell of him. His hand is still drawing circular
patterns on my shoulder while he looks deep into my eyes with his sleep-dazed ones. A smile
slowly breaks its way on his lips, too.
He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps doing what he’s doing with his fingertips. His warm and adoring eyes never leaving my face.
It’s like he’s trying to remember every tiny detail on my face, fearing that he might forget them
if he looks away for even a second.
We don’t talk. We just enjoy the peaceful silence of our late morning together. It’s already eleven-fifty AM. But we didn’t get much of sleep last night.
I suggested that for our date night we stay home and watch a movie while we cook our own
dinner. He agreed, after warning me that he may not be much help in the kitchen anyway.
Taehyung is no Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen. But it has been a while since he started trying to
learn more about cooking, practicing as much as he can and watching different cooking tutorials
on YouTube. He swears that even though he only watches them, they have actually helped him
get better in the kitchen.
He even attempted to bake me cookies few weeks ago, even though it wasn’t a very successful
attempt. But it was the thought and the effort that meant the world to me. He really did put all
his efforts in those cookies. He was disappointed and pouting like a baby when they turned ruined before the timer even beeped.
After a challenging meal and watching our all-time favorite movie “Begin Again”, the movie that
we watched in a cinema the first time we went out together, our night slowly turned into a
passionate and heated night of love-making, shortly after tuning to a night where we didn’t stop
fucking until the morning.
Taehyung draws some of the unruly hair that has stuck to my face behind my ear before resting
his hand there, his thumb softly caressing my cheek.
I didn’t want our after-sex bubble to burst. On the rare occasions where he got to stay the next morning, we only had a short amount of time to stay on the bed and in each other’s arms, pretending we didn’t have to cut our time short. That we weren’t monsters, hiding our very forbidden and wrong affair a secret from everyone we know.
I place my hand on his wrist, slowly stroking his skin with the same rhythm as his. We get lost in
each other’s afterglow, just lying in bed and touching the other in every way we can. Like if we
didn’t hold on to each other tight enough, the other one might slip away from our hold and into
the cruel reality.
“Hi.” I say with a smile on my face.
“Hey.” He says softly while tenderly caressing my jaw. His soft eyes studying every
detail of my eyes.
“Do you think there’s a way you could stay in bed with me for a little longer?”
“I haven’t left the bed yet, have I?” he asks amusingly.
“No, I know. I meant for few hours.” He looks at me questionably. “I thought we could stay in bed for the day. Do nothing but eat take-out and binge watch a show or something.”
I was really hopeful when I thought about telling him my plan for us for the day. But as he looks
at me with a sad smile and sadder eyes, I'm not as optimistic as I was anymore.
“I'm sorry, baby. If it was up to me, I would want to spend my entire day with you in bed and do nothing. I really do. But I need to go back home.”
He refrains from saying more about why he had to go back. But I remember now because he told me more than a week ago. Annie’s family are here in the city.
He has to go because they are hosting a family dinner at their house tonight. A family dinner
at the house he’s currently living in with her. She had a sleep-over with some of her friends last night, that's why he was able to spend the night with me. But he had to go back so they could act
like the happy and in love couple everyone believe them to be.
It’s really hard to hide the bitter look of sadness on my face, but I try my best for Taehyung. I slap on an understanding smile before he notices the hurt in my eyes.
I do an awful job at making the smile reach my eyes.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
I don’t sound as convincing as I wanted.
“I'm sorry. You know that I would rather stay here with you. But she’s been talking
about this family dinner nonstop for weeks. I can’t get out of it.”
“No, no. It’s okay. I don’t want you to get out of it. Don’t worry yourself about it.” I try and
deliver a way better assuring smile this time as I sit up on the bed. “Don’t miss the dinner.”
I push the blanket off me and move towards the bathroom.
But he’s not convinced by my reassurance because he calls my name with plea as he sits up on the bed with
a desperate frown etched on his forehead.
Somehow our morning got ruined before it even had a chance to start.
“Seriously. There’s nothing wrong with going to the dinner.” I let out a weak laugh. “Please don’t feel guilty about it, okay? I understand”
It still doesn’t seem to assure him enough but he gives in and lets the subject go. I give him a small kiss on his lips and leave the bedroom.
My apartment isn’t huge. But it is a very nice place, in a very good neighborhood. A onebedroom apartment with one bathroom that has two doors to both the bedroom and living room, and an open space kitchen. It’s not ginormous, just a perfectly good size place for one
person.
After I do my morning routine in the bathroom and take a quick shower, I step out of the bathroom with a robe towel wrapped around my body.
I walk into the living room and I’m met with a fully dressed Taehyung standing over my espresso
machine, busy making me my morning iced coffee.
The sight warms my heart and wakens the butterflies in my stomach.
Taehyung hates coffee. He never drinks coffee so automatically he never cared to know how to make them. But he goes out of his way each time to make my iced coffee every morning we spend together because he knows iced coffee is a must for me to start my day.
He leaves the cup of espresso to chill and just as he turns around, he comes eye to eye with me and sees me standing by the bathroom door, swooning over him.
He greets me with the most gorgeous smile and walks past the kitchen counter to stand in front of me. He places both of his hands on my waist.
I smile up at him and move my body to be closer to him. I nuzzle my nose in his collar to get a whiff of his scent.
Scents are the main revivers of memories. At least they have always been for me. One whiff of
his signature scent, the mix of his natural scent and after trail of his Armani perfume he wore
last night, and I relive all of our moments spent together. Bitter ones along with the sweet ones.
Taehyung presses his lips to my temple with his eyes closed as we stay there for few moments without saying anything.
“Didn’t you want to take a shower, too?” I ask him, worried he might get late.
“No, it’s okay. I'm gonna take a shower when I go home.”
He keeps his lips on my temple. But I bring my face up to give him a questioning look.
“Annie’s not home. She’s won’t be until the afternoon.” He explains to me.
I nod my head in realization. I move out of his hold to walk towards the kitchen. But before I can
do that, he presses a lingering kiss on my forehead before tilting my head upwards with his
knuckles on my jaw. He searches my eyes.
I stare at his dark deep eyes. I don’t know what he’s searching for or what I can say to make him
feel better, but I do my best with my eyes.
I lean into him and peck his soft lips before going to the kitchen. I realize that except for my
coffee, he hasn’t made anything else for himself. I start making something for our breakfast
along with tea for Taehyung.
While I finish up the breakfast, he comes to my side and takes the espresso from the counter.
He gets started on making my vanilla iced latte as I finish setting the breakfast on the counter.
We sit across each other on my counter and begin our meal.
“Do you have any plans for Tuesday night?” I ask between bites of my fruit salad.
“I don’t think I have any plans yet. Why?”
“My office has given me reservations for a really nice place. I thought we could go out and have
a dinner date. It’s a really classy place.”
I haven’t made a lot of new friends in the city since I moved in. Maybe only one or two good friends. Apart from them, everyone else I know are friends from works. And out of everyone I
know, Taehyung is the person I’d want to spend time with as much as possible.
“That sounds nice.” He pauses before his eyebrows lower in confusion. “Where did the sudden
reservations come from? Are there gonna be any other coworkers around?”
My chewing slows down. Seeing someone we know when we’re together in public is something
we’ve always been careful of. Even though I admit it’s been kind of nice to explore new places
we have never hung out with our friends and discovering new locations for our public dates, the
paranoia that someone might still see us together has always drained our energy more than we
want to admit.
No one wants the constant pressure and stress over their heads when they just want to enjoy their time.
“No. As far as I know, no one else got the reservations.”
Taehyung is quiet for few seconds, lost in his thoughts.
“So you were the only one that received the fancy reservations?”
“Yeah, I guess. I closed a deal with a new client and my boss was really happy about it. It was
kind of like a bonus reward.”
“Uh-ah.” He nods slowly and goes back to his dish.
I’m not sure, but I feel he’s not happy with my answer. I search his body language for a hint of
what might be wrong. Eventually when I find nothing on my own, I ask him.
“Is something wrong?”
He looks up to meet my eyes. He doesn’t give too much up with his eyes when he replies. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sure? I felt your mood changed after I mentioned the reservation.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at me and then down, thinking over his respond in his
head. Eventually he sighs and finally speaks.
“I just feel like your boss has been very generous recently.”
“Not this topic again, Taehyung.” I sigh defeatedly.
“Come on, babe. It’s not the first or second time he has given you special treatment. He has a
clear favoritism towards you and there is a clear reason behind it.” He argues but his voice still carries its calmness.
“He doesn’t have a favoritism for me.” I argue weakly.
He arches a brow. “So he gives expensive fancy reservations to every other employee or invites
them out for dinner and buys them random pricy gifts?”
I stay silent and look down at my plate, playing with my fruit salad. “When you put it that way…”
“Please be careful around that guy, babe. Especially if you have to be alone with him in a room. I
really don’t like him, and I would hate to have to go to jail for beating your boss to a pulp.”
My eyes widen. “Okay, how about calming down a little. I’ll be careful around him. Please stop threatening people’s lives, you psycho.”
He might sound like he’s kidding. But I know that deep down, he’s not.
I try to change the subject and deter his mind from focusing on my boss. My boss has been a
triggering subject for him ever since he asked me on a dinner to talk about a deal I was supposed to make with a potential client.
It was just him and me in a really expensive and high-class restaurant. He didn’t do or say
anything inappropriate to me, not directly. But the fact that to an outsider our dinner looked
like a romantic date made me feel very uneasy the whole time. Usually when we had dinner or
lunch reservations to talk about work, they would be in a more casual place, not in a romantic
place that has a reputation for being a place for serious, romantic dates.
Fancy and exclusive restaurants on the more expensive areas of the city that were really hard to
get into were not considered casual or common.
So to say Taehyung didn’t like my boss was an understatement.
Even throwing away the gift my boss gave me five seconds after I opened it didn’t ease his discomfort.
After we’re done with our breakfast, Taehyung gets busy doing the dishes while I put on a pair
of sweatpants and a simple oversize t-shirt that originally belonged to Taehyung. It now belongs
to a separate drawer I cleared out only for the clothes he keeps here.
He doesn’t have a crazy number of clothes in my apartment considering we aren’t able to spent
many nights together. Only a few pieces he bought so he can keep them here along with couple
of hoodies. He didn’t want to bring his own clothes at home and risk Annie’s suspicion.
I make my bed and step out of my bedroom just when Taehyung finishes with the dishes. We
spend some more time together before he says that he should probably leave. Although he
makes sure to give me a warm lingering kiss that will live in my head for a while before he
leaves.
The kiss lasted more than we intended. He held my head between his palms and looked into my
eyes for a good minute. The look in his eyes is the reason I keep falling for him every day. When
he looks at me with his addicting eyes like he is mesmerized. And all I think about is how
enchanted I am by his deep eyes, too.
I usually spend the days I’m not working doing absolutely nothing. Just stay in my pajama sets
and binge watch a sitcom show or something. But tonight, I do everything and anything I can
think of to take my mind off of the gloominess that clouds my brain. I stop myself from wanting
to text Taehyung during the night to check on him more than few times.
Because why would I even want to know how is the dinner going? I tell myself I would only be
torturing myself if I texted Taehyung during their family dinner.
It takes a lot of control and willpower but I keep myself from thinking about how Taehyung and
Annie might be spending their time together. About how they might seem like the perfect
couple with how they keep giving each other little pecks and kisses here and there and cuddle
and hold each other while they’re sitting on the couch and talking to Annie’s parents. I try to not
imagine any of those scenarios as I hold the small fluffy cushion tighter to my chest and try to
focus on watching the TV show playing in front of me.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
What is worse than spending your entire night not being able to stop your brain from thinking
torturous scenarios about someone you love living with someone else, you might ask?
Having to work the next morning while you’re sleep deprived.
The first iced coffee I got from a local café on my way to work wasn’t close to enough for
socializing with people when I only got three hours of sleep last night. I will definitely have to
continue my day with more than one cup of coffee.
The office is still not full when I walk in. I walk straight to my desk trying to look straight ahead
without making eye contact with other coworkers.
I slowly place my coffee and my bag on my desk. I take out my tablet as I sit and wait for my
computer to start and log in. There aren’t many people working in our floor. But we are close to
the top floor, so our office is nice and fancy. With a full glass office for our manager.
For now, I decide to work on my schedule for the week and organize my personal calendar. I
have barely started working when I hear a cheerful feminine voice greeting me from the other
side of office.
Yeah, definitely not enough caffeine in my system yet.
I place my tablet next to my computer and focus the little energy I have on putting on a smile that
doesn’t seem as forced as it feels and bring my head up to look at the happy energetic woman.
“Hey Annie. Good morning.”
“Hey. How was your weekend?” She says with a smile that oddly enough, reaches her eyes.
Who is even this happy and energetic at 8 am of a Monday morning?
Oh god, please don’t tell me that they-
“Are you okay?”
I shake the daze out of my head and meet Annie’s confused eyes.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I smile weakly. “It was a good weekend. How about yours? What did you do
yesterday?”
I mentally cringe at my question and give myself a smack at the head. Of course I don't want to know how last night went for her.
A massive smile appears on her face. I can actually see memories flash through her eyes. Fuck.
“It was really good. My parents finally got to visit me after months.” she makes herself
comfortable by sitting on the edge of my desk. The huge smile still glued to her face. “Taehyung
helped me prepare dinner and my parents fell in love with it. We hung out and spent the whole
night watching movies.”
I mentally cringe at my awkward smile but I keep it up. If my awkward encounters with my boss
and hours of boring and insufferable meetings prepared me for one thing, it’s moments like this.
When Annie speaks about how much of a dreamy boyfriend Taehyung is. Or when our mutual
friends talk about how perfect and lovely they look as a couple.
It’s important to always. Keep. The. Smile. On.
I should give myself credit, though. The smile looks more genuine with each try even though I
feel a little more dead inside each time.
Annie goes on about their amazing night, their funny conversations and all the movies they
watched until they fell asleep. And I keep my smile through it and pretend I’m interested even
though I’d rather get back to my coffee and the pile of work I need to do.
Thankfully, Jimin, a coworker and a good friend of us comes and saves me. He approaches us
with a work request and asks Annie for help before they both leave my desk.
I relax my face which is aching from the forced smiles and get back to my work.
I'm not really a bitch. Not in the work place and not to Annie. She did nothing wrong. If
anything, I'm the person doing her wrong. But it’s understandable that having to hear her rave
about her relationship to our coworkers puts me in a sour mood. And they have gotten more
and more constant ever since Taehyung confessed to me that their relationship hasn’t been as
dreamy as she tries to make it seem for a long time. If anything, it keeps getting worse.
I tried to feel guilty for having a part in that. But at that moment, cocooned in Taehyung’s big
and warm arms as we cuddled on my bed and he played with my hair, showering me with sweet
kisses, it was a little hard for me to feel remorse or guilt.
I was exactly where I needed to be.
Not saying that the guilt didn’t eat me alive later.
I focus on doing my work and don’t let anything distract me. Thoughts like Annie’s laugh or my
own raging thoughts, or the fact that I haven’t received any texts from Taehyung like I usually
would. Nope. I don’t focus on any of those. I just concentrate on my work.
I usually take my lunch breaks around this hour every day. My back is screaming every swear
word known to mankind at me for sitting in the same position for hours straight, and my butt feels completely numb at this point.
My body is going to hate me when I hit my fifties.
I push my chair back and stretch my body a little, hearing almost every bone on my back and
shoulders crack. The only time I got off my desk today was when I needed another cup of
coffee. I look at my empty cup before I see my phone screen light up with a text notification.
My tired face instantly lights up with a smile before realizing I'm grinning at my phone like an idiot. I neutralize my face before anyone notices and pick up my phone.
As I had anticipated, I see the texts from Taehyung.
Taehyung: Hey curly head. How’s work? Be honest, how many coffees did you have before eating
anything? Don’t forget to leave your desk for a little bit and eat something.
Taehyung: I'm sorry I didn’t call you last night. I tried but I got interrupted the moment I dialed
you and I didn’t get a minute to myself after that. I'm really sorry. I’ll make up for it when I see
you. Can’t wait for tomorrow night. [red heart emoji]
I read the text a second time with a small smile that escapes my lips even though I try to keep
my face plain.
One of Taehyung’s pet names for me is “curly head”. I don’t usually wear my hair in their natural
curly style, preferring straight hair over curls since I think it suits me better. But Taehyung disagrees. He loves the natural style. I think he’s a little too obsessed with my curls.
I really was waiting for him to call me the entire night. I didn’t get my hopes too high, though. I
know how clingy Annie can get when they have an audience. Deep down, I already knew he
wouldn’t be able to call me even though he promised the moment he got some moment of
privacy, he would.
I quickly text him back. Assuring him that I understood it would be hard for him to call me and
that I just hope he enjoyed his night.
I don’t wait for a reply from him. Instead, I decide to have my lunch now.
The moment I step into the breakroom, Jia, one of my closest friends walks in after me and sits
on the empty chair next to me.
“Hey, I've been looking for you. Do you have any plans after work?”
I put my lunch down on the table.
“No. Not any plans. How come?”
“Nothing special. Some of the guys wanted to go out for drinks after work. Thought we could
join them. We haven’t spent much time together lately.”
“Yeah, sorry for that. Life has been hectic lately.” I give an apologetic smile.
“Great.” She smiles happily. “It’s a promise. You will not vanish right after work and we’ll do
some catching up.”
Catching Jia up on my life has turned into a very challenging task since a lot of my recent
activities included a certain someone that I could not mention to any of my friends, let alone my
best friend.
Not only was it hard to imagine the look on my friend’s face if she were to find out about my affair, but it was impossible to bear the image of her pure hatred towards me if she ever found
out who I had an affair with.
Jia and Annie have been good friends for years. The betrayal would feel bigger for her.
So instead, I settle for telling her small boring news about my life. I listen to her life updates for
most of the night. We listen to the music playing in the bar as we drink and talk, occasionally partaking in a conversation with our colleagues, too.
At some point in the night, someone thinks it’s a good idea to play a drinking game. And despite
some disagreements and calling it a silly idea, we play it anyway.
It turns out to be a safe and decent game. No big drama is created and even though we find out
some interesting facts about our work friends, everyone’s dignity remains safe.
No one crosses any boundaries and surprisingly, we have a good time, considering the questions
came from a random website which had a huge potential to go very bad. Because on top of
that, Annie agreed to play, too.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Before
I ignore the text notification that is lighting up my phone screen again as I refill my drink and
gulp down my drink immediately.
There’s not too many people in the kitchen. Well, not many people I know. Jia is a social
butterfly with a lot of friends and acquaintances from everywhere. It was a given that her
twenty-sixth birthday party would be a crowded one. Fortunately for her, her two bedroom
apartment has more than enough space for all of her guests.
She comes from a great financial background. So it wasn’t hard for her to find a spacious
apartment in the good side of the city when she decided to start her independent life.
I ran away from the swarmed living room and found an amazing company next to her liquor cabinet
minutes ago.
Being surrounded by so many people was not easy for me. I don’t know a lot of them and I’m
not in a socializing mood tonight. The only way I had to entertain myself was to browse on my
phone, but the nonstop texts and calls have pissed me off even more.
I’m not usually a sad and distant person in parties and social gatherings, but tonight I don’t feel like my
usual self. Deep down, I just want to be alone, maybe with a bowl of ice cream and an episode of “2 Broke Girls”. But Jia is my closest friend. I couldn’t forgive myself if I left her tonight and
missed her birthday. So I decided to suck it up and stay for a few hours. I’m not staying until
after midnight. And I try to stay in the more crowded rooms as little as possible.
I catch the balcony empty and take my only chance. I haven’t been able to have a fresh air the
entire night. People have been going in and out of the balcony the entire night for a smokebreak since Jia was very strike about no smoking inside the house. I move towards the balcony
door quickly, not wanting to give another person a chance to beat me into it.
I get out of the living room and close the balcony’s sliding door behind me. I inhale the free air
through my nose. There was no smell of smoke inside, but the headache enthusing smell of all
the mixed perfumes and strong alcohol was starting to make me nauseous.
Honestly, the smell of my own breath is starting to bother me, too.
I look into my handbag for mint, when I notice another presence in here with me.
I jolt when I look up and see someone on the other side, leaning on the edge of the balcony
with a cigarette in his hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t know someone was here.” I say quickly before turning for the door.
“No, it’s fine.” He stops me. “Please, stay.”
I open my lips to respond but I hesitate.
“Is everything okay?” He asks gently.
“Yes. It’s just that… I don’t like the smell of smoke.” I look at the smoke between his fingers.
He follows my eyes and looks down at the cigar in his hand.
I wait for him to get offended and throw me out himself, but he surprises me when he brings his
head up and looks at me with a soft smile.
That’s when I really realize how beautiful this man is. His smile makes my head stop working for
long seconds. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
The gears in my head start working when he starts speaking again.
“Oh. Forgive me.” With that, he uses the ash tray on his left to put down his smoke.
I’m surprised by his action.
“You didn’t have to do that. I just came out here for some air. I could’ve just gone back inside.”
“It was my bad. You’re right. People should have some fresh air when they come outside, not be
smothered by the smell of smoke.”
“Actually, everyone come out here for smoking. I don’t think anyone here needs a breath of
fresh air.” I smile.
“Well, then it makes just the two of us.” He stares ahead into the city.
I look at over his figure leaning his weight on his elbows. He doesn’t look as lively as the rest of the party. Almost like me.
“You didn’t look like you were getting much fresh air a moment ago.” I joke as I point at his half-smoked cigarette.
“Yeah, I guess.” He looks down at it and chuckles. “I suppose I needed to be by myself a little
more than I needed fresh air.” He says on a more serious note.
I understand that. That’s exactly why I needed to get on this balcony, too. No one in that room
knows about the failure of my relationship, not even Jia.
I don’t think it was the fact that I didn’t want to explain to people why I’m not here with my
boyfriend -well, now ex-boyfriend-, or even mentioning that he hasn’t stopped reaching out to
me all night, even though he was the one that ended our relationship three weeks ago that
made me want to be away from people. Just loneliness, and somehow being overwhelmed at
the same time.
We stand in silence and enjoy the quietness. It’s not exactly quiet. The city is alive as it could be
and we can still hear the sound of music and chatter from inside the apartment. But it’s not
being talked to and not having to talk that makes the moment pleasant.
At some point, as we enjoy the view, I feel calm and comfortable enough to break the silence
and hold a conversation with the gorgeous man next to me.
“How do you know Jia?” I turn my eyes to him.
His eyes leave the city to look at me.
“I’m not personally a friend of her myself. I know her through someone.” He settles for the short
answer. “You?”
“She’s one of my closest friends.” I don’t mention that she’s my only true close friend, not
wanting to seem as lonely and unsocial as I feel.
“Then you should be inside, partying and drinking with her like all of her friends. What are you
doing here?” He genuinely asks. He doesn’t sound insulting or mocking by any means.
“I don’t really feel partying tonight. I don’t mind getting drunk, though.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, same.”
“How come you’re not inside?” I ask. “Didn’t you mention you’re friend with Jia’s friend?”
He looks down at his hand as he tangles his fingers together. He slowly nods. “Yeah, but I guess I
was feeling a little overwhelmed, too. I’m not a big fan of huge crowded groups of people.”
“Then how come you attended this party?”
He keeps his eyes down on his hands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” I quickly apologize when I realize I might’ve overstepped. “I just
meant in the way that everyone who knows Jia knows that her parties aren’t on the more
exclusive and private side.”
He chuckles as he straightens up and sits on the chair next to him.
“It’s okay. I wasn’t offended by the question.” he sighs. “I didn’t have anything better to do, so I
had to come.” He glances my way. “How about you?”
“I can think of one or two things I could be doing right now,” I lean my hip on the chair on the
opposite side of the table Taehyung’s sitting at. “but I had to be here for Jia. Didn’t want to not
be with her for her birthday.”
“But you’re not with her right now.” He raises his eyebrow at me in question.
“That’s right, I’m not.” I chuckle. “But it’s the thought that counts. And she’s so busy with all the
other guests, she won’t even notice that I’m hiding out here.”
“So you’re hiding here? I thought you were having some fresh air.” He amuses with a teasing
smirk.
I laugh at his attempt to bust me. “Can’t a person do both?”
“Yes. I guess they can.” He says as his gorgeous smile starts to wear off.
I look down at my hand as I play with the strap of my handbag.
“It’s interesting how I’ve known Jia for so long but I’ve never seen you around.” He says out
loud, bringing me out of my head.
“I haven’t known her for long.” I sit on the chair. “And we usually hang out on our own, just the
two of us. She has invited me to join her and her friends many times, but I guess I wasn’t
comfortable doing that.”
“Why not?”
I sigh as I look away at the busy city.
“I guess I wasn’t a big fan of huge crowded groups of people, either. I prefer small but close
circles.” I finish with a small smile.
He slowly nods his head while keeping his eyes on me. We don’t break the gaze. I feel lost in his
dark eyes as I notice the asymmetrical shape of his eyelids. It’s almost painful how exquisite his
face is.
I can’t help but feel a strong pull to him. Like I want to be closer to him, and not just in a physical
way. I want to get to know him. I want to keep talking to him and listen to him talking to me all
night. Could it be possible to stay here on this balcony with him without anyone interrupting us
and talk all night? Because that’s what I truly want.
“What?” he asks with a chuckle.
“What?” I say right back, dumbfounded because he just pulled me back to the moment.
“You’re staring at me.” He chuckles again.
“You were staring, too.”
“Maybe. But I want to know why you were staring.”
“You are a confusing man. Did you know that?”
“Is what you think of me? Just confusing?”
“That, among other things.” My heartrate picks up.
“And what are those other things?”
“What is this, a self-analysis test you’re having? Wanting to know how people perceive you?” I
raise an eyebrow with a tilt of my lips.
He lets out a laugh before turning his eyes to the view in front of us, but seems to change his
mind when he looks my way again.
“I’m Taehyung, by the way.”
I smile at him. A beautiful name for a beautiful man, I think to myself.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Taehyung.” I say his name out loud, wanting to hear how it sounds
on my tongue. “I’m-”
We both jolt at the loud sound of the balcony door sliding open. Jia looks at me with overjoyed
eyes.
“Here you are.” She announces happily. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Her eyes fall on Taehyung before she stops in her track.
“Oh, you’re here too, Taehyung.” She says with a grin.
Taehyung gives her a smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“Come on out, you two. What are you even doing in here?”
I go to protest, but Jia leans forward and grabs my forearm. I look behind my shoulder to plea
for help from Taehyung before Jia literally starts to drag me out of the balcony. I mouth “Please
help me” to him. I see him looking our way with a chuckle. He puts his hands in his pockets and
looks down before shakes his head slowly. He starts to follow us inside while Jia still holds my
arm and leads me into her spacious living room.
She guides us through the room and into a group of people. Some of them are sitting on the
couch and some are standing close to them with drinks in their hands, talking.
Jia doesn’t lose the hold she has on me while she leans back and grabs Taehyung’s button down
shirt. She gently shoves him forward.
“Look, Annie. I finally found your man. He’s been in the balcony the whole time.” She says loudly
over the music to the blonde girl sitting on the couch.
My face falls at Jia’s words. I’m socked to the point that I can’t move even a millimeter.
I stand still as I watch Taehyung slowly walk to the couch where the blonde girl is sitting.
From the outside, my face is void of any emotions as I watch with my crazy heartbeat how the guy sitting next to her
leaves his seat so Taehyung can sit next to her. Annie, the blonde girl, puts her hand on his thigh
and he rests his arm on the couch behind Annie.
Taehyung brings his head up and looks directly into my eyes. The second I see his dark hazel
eyes see me looking at him, I avert my eyes. I try to look anywhere but at them.
My eyes fall at the guy standing next to Jia and on cue, he turns his head to me and greets me
with a smile. I return the gesture by a smile of my own that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“I haven’t seen you all night. Why do you keep running away?” Jia directs at me.
“Sure you’ve seen me. You just don’t remember because you had to greet a thousand other
people.” I reply with the soft smile intact to my lips.
Jia chuckles. “Yeah, I know. It turned into a bigger party than I planned. And it’s funny because
you don’t know more than half of them. Let’s start from here.”
Two guys that were sitting on the smaller couch leave their seats to go with the two girls they
were talking to, and Jia leads us towards their seats.
She sits on the right side of the couch, leaving me the left side. Right next to Annie.
Jia starts. “This is Annie. One of my oldest friends here.”
She gives me sweet smile and nods her head at me. I feel slightly uncomfortable meeting her
eyes. But I can’t let it show. We don’t even know each other. No one can know how awkward I feel inside because I had a short-lived crush on her boyfriend and admired his insane beauty in
my head.
I mean, I’m sure she’s used to girls admiring her boyfriend. He looks like a freaking Greek god.
“And you’re going to be seeing a lot of her. She’s actually in our company building. She’s been
recently promoted to our floor.” Jia raises her drink to her friend.
Annie happily giggles and returns the gesture at Jia.
I smile politely at her and brace myself for the next person Jia will be introducing to me.
“And this is Taehyung, Annie’s boyfriend. Which I guess you’ve kind of already met.”
I swallow as I meet Taehyung’s gaze. He doesn’t show any particular emotion. He just smiles and
nods his head slightly. His smile is genuine and beautiful. Just like the one he gave me when we
were out on the balcony.
Stop admiring other people’s boyfriends, you idiot, I scream at myself.
I try to not keep my eyes on him for too long. My body stiff and uncomfortable under his gentle
but deep gaze.
My body doesn’t relax as I greet everyone Jia introduces to me, because I can still feel Taehyung’s eyes on me.
And that’s when I know for sure, that whatever chemistry I felt outside on the terrace wasn’t
just in my head. It was something that we both definitely felt. And even now when we’re not alone anymore, we still feel it around us.
We both notice it all, and it’s a good thing that no one else does.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Present
“Oh my god! It’s huge and beautiful.” A female coworker exclaims while holding Minji’s hand.
Everyone from our office have circled around the happy couple when they walked in together
and announced that they are officially engaged now. They’ve been in a relationship for the past
year and a half and apparently, Junho popped the question this past weekend when they went
on a small vacation with her family.
We are standing around them, congratulating them when someone clears their throat not so
quietly.
We all turn around to see our boss standing in the entryway looking unpleased with the crowd that has formed. He couldn’t care less about two of his employees engagement, so quietly scatter around the office, each person taking their own seat at their desk.
I’m stopped in my track by my boss as he approaches me and asks for a minute of my time. I
don’t want to give him a minute of my time, but he’s my boss and I’m his employee. So I smile
politely and give him a fucking minute of my time.
“What was just going on over there?” he asks with a gentler tone, as opposed to his expression
back there.
“Just congratulating our coworkers.” I say with a flat smile.
“I see.” He doesn’t seem to care anyway, because he asks. “How was dinner last Tuesday?”
“It was great, sir. Thank you again, for the reservation.”
“Oh, of course. Don’t mention it.” He makes himself comfortable and sits on the edge of an empty desk. “Though it was a shame I couldn’t go on the dinner myself, too.” He says pointedly.
I give him a tight smile, fully understanding the meaning behind his eyes and meaningful smirk.
It’s not like I can do anything about his behavior. He’s my boss. He has all the upper hands and
all I can do is to stay silent and take it.
“Tell me, did you go by yourself?”
“No, sir. I actually took a friend with me.”
He hums to himself. I keep my tight smile, hoping he dismisses me so I can go back to my work.
“Good. You keep nailing your deals, and I’ll make sure you’ll get your bonuses for your hard
work.” His voice gets lower. His eyes not leaving me.
I shift my weight on my feet, feeling uneasy with this conversation. I didn’t want to admit it to Taehyung the other day to fuel his fire, but he was absolutely right about him. And I don’t like being alone with this man.
He finally dismisses me and I try to not look too happy as I turn around and walk towards my
desk.
“She’s finally done kissing his balls. God, she doesn’t even try to be subtle about it.” I hear a
woman whisper to someone. They’re talking about me.
I stop in my track. I turn around and see the two women close to each other while they give me
a dirty look. The moment I look at them, they stand tall and neutralize their faces. But it’s not
because of me.
I sense Jimin coming to stand next to me before I see the unfriendly way he looks at the two women. He doesn’t have to say anything to them. They both turn their heads away, pretending
they weren’t talking shit behind my back and scatter away towards their own desks.
He doesn’t leave my side after he scares the nosy mean girls of the office away. I turn to him
fully and see his face soften.
“Don’t pay them any attention.” He tells me.
“It’s hard not to. Doesn’t half of the office already think I’m sleeping with him for bonus and
promotion?” More like the entire office.
And Jimin knows that. That’s why he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me with helpless
eyes. Like he understands the truth, and wishes he could make everyone else realize that, too.
But he can’t. People will believe what they want to believe. And if they know the truth, but still
decide to believe something else, no one can do anything about it.
“Doesn’t matter. They don’t matter to me, anyway.” I try to use a more cheerful tone. “At least
one person here doesn’t think that of me.” I smile at him.
A smile breaks through his lips before he squeezes my shoulder in reassurance.
“I would never believe such a thing about you.”
We both go to our own desks to get back to our work.
Later that day, we decide to go to our usual place for drinks in celebration of our coworkers
engagement.
We all sit around a table in the bar. Some of the guys bring more chairs from other tables so we
can all sit with each other. Some of us decide to stay here for longer, and I agree. I miss spending
time with the few friends I have. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun hanging out
with Jia and Jimin.
Jia is busy showing us something on her phone when Annie’s phone, who is sitting on the other
side of Jia, rings. Jia pauses the video before Annie apologizes with a grin and answers her
phone.
“Hey, honey. Yeah, we're inside the bar.”
The genuine smile that had lasted on my lips all night falls instantly. It’s no mystery who’s on the
other line.
“Yes, we’re all sitting at a big table.” She raises her head to look around the bar.
I get alarmed by her words. I sit up in my chair while I feel my heart in my mouth. Annie’s growing smile while she shakes her hand for someone behind us frightens me even more.
Oh god. Oh god, please don’t let that be…
Annie hangs up the phone as Jia speaks up.
“Is that Taehyung?”
“Yes. Everyone decided to stay late and drink, so I thought I could call him over, too. We haven’t
all gotten together for a drink in so long.”
Jee, I wonder why.
Jia just smiles happily, and as Taehyung gets closer to our table. I stay put in my seat, my back
facing Taehyung as Jia and Annie and couple of other guys get up from their chairs to greet him.
Most of their friends came to their circle through Jia, and Jia is almost friends with our entire
building. And ever since Annie joined our floor, more and more people from our office joined their social circle.
Somehow, me and Jimin are the only people that don’t hang out with them as much. Jimin has
his own close friends and social circle. And me, well, my reasons are pretty clear. And so I keep
my eyes forward.
Taehyung walks to where Annie was sitting while he says hi to Jimin who is sitting on my left
side. Jimin greets him with a nod of his head before Taehyung eyes fall on me next. I turn to him
just enough to welcome him with a short smile and nod of my head.
No one notices the look we exchange. We’ve had enough practice in situations similar to this to
not get caught. We keep the interactions and eye contacts to a minimum. Because we know
when our eyes meet, there is no hiding the obvious longing in our eyes. That’s why I’m the first
one to break the eye contact and look down at my drink.
“You should bring another chair from over there.” Jia tells Taehyung, pointing to an empty chair
two tables away from us.
“Oh, it’s fine. He can take mine.” Annie chirps before pushing Taehyung down on the seat.
“What about yourself?” Asks Jimin.
Annie sits on Taehyung’s lap and swings her arm around his neck. “I have one right over here.”
Taehyung seams stiff and uncomfortable by her little show but gives her a tight smile. Everyone
else though, find Annie charming and amusing. I put on a tight smile, but what I really wanna do
is to pull at my hair, hard.
Staying here was a mistake. I should’ve left sooner when I had the chance. If I leave now, after I
agreed to stay late, everyone specially Jia will find it weird.
Everyone start talking again. They joke and laugh and order more rounds of drinks. I’m torn
between drinking my heart out until I don’t give a fuck about how Annie keeps playing with
Taehyung’s hair mindlessly while she listens to others talking, or stop drinking now before I get
too drunk and do something stupid.
But it’s hard. I know I don’t have the right to feel this way, but it hurts me to sit here helplessly
and watch them present a perfect couple. Annie keeps getting closer to Taehyung and kisses his
face here and there while Taehyung keeps his hands perfectly still on her waist. It’s like being
forced to watch a live show of the most torturous play ever.
But I don’t show a single emotion. I sit there and take it all. I keep myself busy by talking to
Jimin, since Jia is too busy being the life of the party and talking to everyone else. And I don’t
want to be involved in their conversation. I don’t want to have to look their way more than
necessary. Even though I know I can’t ignore them and everyone else at the table all night.
When Jia directs a question at me out loud, I have no choice but to turn a little on my seat and
look their way.
The moment I turn around, I go still.
I watch as Annie does a shot but doesn’t swallow the drink. She holds Taehyung’s face tight in
her hand and kisses him, passing the drink to Taehyung while her lips are on his soft ones.
Suddenly, I can’t remember what I wanted to say. I can’t even remember what was Jia’s question. All I feel is a huge wave of nausea. I start to feel sick as I see Taehyung swallowing the
drink and tells Annie something as he uses a napkin to wipe the drink that poured out of her
mouth on his chin. I even hear a few coworkers whistling at them. But the sound is muffled in
my ears.
When I feel the nausea getting more intense, I grab my purse off the table.
“Excuse me, guys. I feel a little unwell. I’ll be back.”
I stand up from my seat and leave the table before anyone gets a chance to talk to me. I want to
run to the bathroom, but that will look too strange.
So I calm myself and breathe through my nose. When I get to the ladies room, I shove the door
open and throw myself in. My purse slips out of my hand and onto the floor as I grab onto the
sink before I feel my legs give out.
I press my eyes shut, but it’s no help. I can’t shake the image out of my head. I know it’sridiculous to feel this way. They’ve done way worse things, but I don’t want to have a front row
ticket to any of those.
I cover my mouth with my palm and breathe harder. I feel my skin getting warm. Too warm. I
hate using public restrooms, let alone get sick in one of them.
I splash some cold water on my burning skin before I hear the door to the bathroom opening. I get myself together and stand straight. Even though I still feel nauseated, I don’t want one of my
coworkers to see me like this. Just like the incident earlier today at the office, my female
coworkers can get really mean sometimes.
But I jump in my spot when I see it’s Taehyung.
I feel the bile rising in my mouth.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper-yell.
I never checked the toilet stalls. We’ll be screwed if someone is in one of them.
“I came to check on you. You didn’t seem okay.” He says before he walks to me.
“I’m fine. Okay? Now please go before someone comes in here.” I tell him, but my words don’t
change the fact that I lean into his touch when he holds my face in his palms.
My eyes close on their own record as I cling onto his hands. His touch is like ice on fire, cooling
down my burning skin.
“But you don’t look okay.” He sounds even more concerned.
“Tae, what if someone sees us in here?” I ask lazily.
“Don’t worry. Everyone were too engaged in another drinking game.” That doesn’t ease my
worries. “What’s wrong with you? Are you going to get sick?”
Yes. I feel like it’ll happen any moment now.
“I couldn’t. I just couldn’t watch you two...” I shut my eyes again.
Awareness dawns on him as he holds my face with a new compassion. He lowers his head till
our foreheads touch.
“I’m sorry, babe. I really am. She keeps catching me by surprise. Trust me, I didn’t want to do
any of those displays of affection.”
I feel the desperation in his voice. He keeps caressing my cheeks with his thumbs as he
apologizes, so I pour my heart out.
“I know it’s unfair to feel like this. She is your girlfriend and I’m nobody. But I just…” My eyes get
blurry as I look up at his beautiful, sad eyes.
“You are not nobody. You hear me? You’re my everything. Everything that is keeping me together and standing up. I don’t have anything but you.”
His eyes are so passionate, pushing out every word with a heavy load of meaning. I look into his
eyes with a new-found revelation.
I’ve always thought I’m the one that fell first and harder. I wasn’t even sure if he ever fell for me,
if he felt as strongly as I felt towards him. Or if I was simply a mistress for him. A woman on the
side.
But his words, the way he’s looking at me, the longing and the pain, I know now for sure. I don’t
know who fell first, but I know that he’s the one falling harder.
“Taehyung-”
He shushes me by putting his lips on mine. Kissing me like it’s our first kiss, like it might be our
last kiss, too. He pours all of his pain and passion into the kiss, forcing my lips apart so he can
push his tongue in.
I don’t get enough time to react. He dominates my tongue in no time, kissing me with so much
skill and force, I feel my heart in my mouth for a completely different reason that earlier.
He slips his fingers through my hair and hold the back of my head. He slowly takes a step
forward while I take one backwards. We repeat the same rhythm until my back hits the
bathroom wall.
He mindlessly thrusts his hips into me, losing control for a moment. We both moan at the same
time, but the sound is muffled by our touching lips. He does the same move again, thrusting his
hips into me, and then I lose my control.
I hang onto his body for dear life, pushing my hips into his, trying to feel more of him. Of the
way he yearns and desires for me. It’s all too apparent in his trousers, getting more obvious by
every thrust of our joining hips.
That’s why he holds my hips in a death grip and stops my movements.
“Stop. I can’t go back with a hard-on.” He breathes out, pain clear in his voice.
“But you already have one. Shouldn’t we take care of that?” I tease as I go to move my hand
towards his bulge. But he’s quick to hold my wrist before I get to touch him.
“Not now. We’ll do that later.” His hand leaves my wrist before it moves slowly from my stomachto the outline of my skirt, wakening every nerve on my body with the faint touch of his fingers.
“Right now, we’ll take care of this.”
He lowers his hand to my right thigh, raising all the hair on my body before moving upward,
towards my inner thighs.
My breathing becomes shallower. His lips are barely an inch away from mine, killing me with
anticipation of tasting them again.
But he doesn’t satiate my thirst, instead he moves his lips to
the space between my cheek and ear, keeping his lips there. I tilt my head in a little so I can get
a whiff of his perfume. I’m addicted to his scent like an alcoholic is addicted to whiskey. Even
sitting so close to her and being touched by her all night hasn’t clouded his scent the slightest.
A bitter taste fills my mouth with the returning image of him with her all night, but they all fly
out of the window the moment his fingers push my underwear aside and faintly touch my burning spot.
My entire body is burning, and he hasn’t even touched me properly yet.
I fist his shirt in my hands, my nails scratching his skin underneath as I move my hips so I can
finally feel his touch.
“Please stop torturing me.” I plea with desperation.
A throaty chuckle leaves his mouth.
“You know how I love to torture you like this. But lucky for you, we’re short on time.”
With that, he finally pushed his fingers in, two at the same time.
God, yes.
My mouth shapes an o but no sound leaves me. I stay silent as he starts to press my g-spot almost immediately.
I arch into his hand. He works magic with his warm and skilled fingers. His free hand yanks my
blouse and bra down. He kisses his way down to my chest and latches onto my nipples. One at a
time, he sucks and licks them while I hold onto his hair and press my lips shut.
He adds a third finger, working all his tricks to weaken my knees even more. I can’t help the
single moan that escapes my lips. I hold in my breath to keep all the noises in as I come.
My heart is pounding like a war-drum. His fingers don’t leave the spot until after I’m spent,
fucking me through the orgasm. I sag against him. My legs give out as he takes my weight and
holds me close to him. My breathing is barely even when he straightens my skirt and slips the
hair in my face behind my ear with his other hand.
“Let’s get cleaned. We can’t stay longer.”
He holds me up by my elbows and makes sure I can stand steadily.
“But Taehyung, we didn’t-”
“Shh.” He cuts me off with another deep, bone-melting kiss. “Let’s talk later. Tonight, even.
When we’re out of here and alone.”
“You can come tonight?” I ask with hope.
He leaves a lingering kiss on my forehead. “I will come tonight. Now let’s get out of here. They’ll
notice we’ve been gone for too long.”
With that, I move to the sink to fix my look. My look is not as messy as I thought. My full face of
makeup -except for my lips- is on place to cover the flush of my skin. But I don’t know what to
do about my flushing neck and ears.
Taehyung washes his hands while I splash cold water on my neck before he holds my hand in
his. He picks up my purse from the floor and hands it to me. We leave the ladies room like that,
but before anyone can see us, he gives my hand one last squeeze and lets go of it. I miss his
hand in mine instantly, yearning for his warmth already.
We walk towards our table together. The first person that notices us is Jia. She sits up and looks
over me, then Taehyung.
“Are you okay? You were gone for a while.” She asks me.
I sit between Jia and Jimin again. I feel Jimin looking at me and just noticing I was gone for a
while, too.
“I’m fine. I think I should stop drinking now, though.” I respond to Jia, blaming my sickness on
drinking too much.
“You didn’t even have that much drink.”
Her attention falls on Taehyung who is sitting on Annie’s seat again, she follows after and sits on
his lap. His eyes fly to me almost instantly. Annie is too drunk and busy winning the drinking
game to notice anything. And to everyone else on the table, it’s a simple look. No one sees the
emotions behind his eyes, but I do. It’s desperation, longing and apology, all at the same time. I
give him a faint smile, reassuring him that I’m fine and I understand.
“What about you? Are you okay?” This time, Jia’s question is directed at Taehyung.
He turns to her. “Yeah. There was a line at the bathroom, that’s why it took long.” He says
casually.
For one last time, Taehyung looks over to me, making sure that I’m okay. And I am. Annie is not
slightly as touchy. Everything she was doing was merely a show, a parade of their perfect
relationship. Now that she’s drunk, she doesn’t care about façade. She’s too drunk to even hold
herself straight up.
I feel Jia’s eyes traveling between us, so I stop looking at Taehyung immediately and turn to
Jimin.
“You good?” he asks me quietly.
He didn’t participate in the drinking game. He looks way more sober than the rest of the table
with his drink in front of him.
“Yeah, I’m better.” I smile kindly at him, touched by his thoughtfulness to check on me.
My boss’s “favoritism”, as Taehyung puts it, has made a lot of our coworkers unfriendly and
spiteful towards me. Most of them believe that I’m sleeping my way through success while they
work hard for nothing.
The only person aside from Jia who has been a true friend to me, is Jimin. We aren’t close
friends and we don’t really hang out alone outside our work time, but he is a good friend. And
I’ll always appreciate him.
A laugh escapes me when I turn my head in time to watch a drunk and giggling Minji almost fall
off of her chair before her fiancé jumps to catch her in time.
But it seems like my eyes have a mind of their own, because even though I know I should stop,
they get pulled back to where Taehyung is. But this time, he’s not looking at me. He’s eyes are
on Jimin while everyone else’s are on the cute couple.
I don’t see any emotion in his eyes, he’s just looking at him. Watching him. Until he notices my
eyes on him. He forgets about Jimin and gives me a small smile. I return it before we both avert
our attention back to where everyone else are looking at.
We stay at the bar for a little longer until half the party is too drunk to sit up on their seats. So
we decide to call it a night. Everyone leave their chairs and start calling for cabs, since almost
everyone drank tonight.
Jia splits a cab with two other friends, and since Taehyung didn’t order any drinks tonight, he’ll
be driving Annie home, obviously.
Taehyung offered to give both me and Jia ride to home, since he didn’t want to risk making it
look suspicious by just offering me a ride, but Jia turned him down with a chuckle before I got a chance to respond. He tried to insist harder, but he called him silly and told him that I live on theother side of town from him -yes, he knows that- and we’ll just get our own cabs.
I smiled at him with apology, because he tried. But it’s for the best. We can’t do what we want
when even one single person we know is around us.
I make sure to wipe my purse clean before I touch it again before I feel someone walking to me.
I raise my head and I’m met with Jimin.
“Aren’t you calling a cab?”
“Oh, yeah. I will. I just dropped my purse in the bathroom. I wanted to make sure it’s clean.” I
throw the used napkin on the table.
“I can give you a ride if you want.”
I look at him unsure. “I don’t think you should give yourself a ride tonight.”
“Don’t worry.” He chuckles. “My drinks where alcohol-free all night. I don’t drink and drive.”
“Oh.”
“So, you wanna stay here or will you be coming with me?”
“No, I don’t want to an inconvenient for you. It’s easier to call a cab.” I stand up.
“Inconvenient? Are you kidding me?” he scoff. “Look, I’m just offering because I know you live
close to my place. And it’s late so it’s getting hard to get a cab. But do whatever you’re
comfortable with.”
“How do you know where I live?” I ask curious.
“From Jia.”
“Ah.” I nod my head in understanding. “She’s a yapper sometimes, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, sometimes.” He chuckles.
He doesn’t seem to have a problem with driving me home, and he looks completely sober, so I
take him on his offer. He’s a good person and it’ll be nice to bond with someone other than Jia
from time to time.
We are the last people to walk out of the bar. Aside from Taehyung and Annie and a couple
more coworkers waiting for their cabs, everyone has already left. Annie keeps dozing off, not
even able to hold her own weight anymore. She leans her weight on Taehyung and he holds her
up with an arm around her mid body. She keeps moving around before slipping from his grasp
for a short moment. Taehyung moves quick to catch her.
I suck in a sad breath and turn my eyes to Jimin when he talks to me.
“My car is parked a block away. Can you walk in your shoes or should I bring the car here?” He
asks out loud.
I can sense Taehyung’s head jerking to our direction. I don’t want to leave him like this. A lot of
unexpected things happened tonight and after how we put a pause on everything for the time
being, I don’t want him to think wrong about this. I need a moment to talk to him before we
part ways.
“Actually, my feet are hurting from my shoes.” I point to my heels. “Would you mind bring the
car here?”
“Not at all. Wait here.” With that, he starts to walk away.
I look at his back for few moments before I turn around to face Taehyung. Confusion is written
on his face but he doesn’t let out too much or say anything. But I still want to make things clear
for him.
I look over his shoulder to a few coworkers left outside the bar and signal for Taehyung to move
so we put more distance between us and them. He glances behind his shoulder and follows my
lead, still holding Annie up on her feet as we walk away from them a little.
I hesitantly look at Annie, but she’s too drunk to understand anything. So I bring my eyes up to
Taehyung.
“He’s giving you a ride home?” He starts before I do.
“Yes, he is. We live close to each other, and I thought it’s safer.”
“Babe, what is the deal with him? Why does he try to get close to you every chance he gets?”
“There’s no deal with him. He is one of the very few real friends I have at work. He’s just being a
nice person.” He opens his mouth but I stop him before he can protest. “Please, Taehyung, trust
me when I say he has no interest in me romantically.”
He doesn’t look convinced about Jimin’s intentions. But he trusts me, so he seems convinced
enough not to continue.
“It’s just that I hate watching you go home with another man, but…” He doesn’t finish his
sentence. And a sad knowing look passes between us, because we both know why he didn’t
finish that.
Because that’s exactly how I feel every time I have to watch him go home with another woman.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look away.
“I’ll come over tonight after I take care of her and put her to bed. I promise.” He clears his throat
and tells me with confidence.
It doesn’t make our whole situation any less painful, but it’s still enough for me. I don’t care if
he’s not coming with me, as long as he keeps coming back to me anyway.
I know how I sound, even in my own head. And I hate it too. But if doing things that make me
hate my thoughts and actions means I can continue seeing Taehyung and be with him, so be it.
Love is not just blind. It’s stupid and irrational and destructive. And I feel like all of those
because of Taehyung. And I won’t trade him for all the intelligence and logic and material in the
world.
I nod my head. We have a deal. Two hours tops, and he’s back to me.
I can’t help it when my body slowly leans into him for touch. I come to my senses immediately
and get back before my lips touch his on their own record.
But he noticed the short loss of my control. He slowly licks his lips and his eyes fall on my lips
in yearning.
Two hours. Only Two hours.
I quickly put space between us when I hear a car honk. I turn to see Jimin is waiting in his car in
the driveway. I glance back at Taehyung before I start walking away.
“Drive safe.”
I tell Taehyung before I turn my head and walk to Jimin’s passenger seat and leave the bar.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ᰔ
a/n : there will be a second part to this, maybe even a third part. I'm not sure. But that will be it because this won't be a series. Hope you enjoy. If you have any opinions, I'll be glad to read them. ♡
Summary: Drunk you has no filter and your husband has always been a weak, weak man when it comes to you. He just didn’t expect your family planning conversation to awaken the caveman part of his brain or a raging breeding kink in both of you.
Warnings: smut!MDNI, established relationship, trying to conceive, pregnancy, soft dom!cheol, domestic fluff, humor, healthy communication, breeding kink awakening, enthusiastic consent, multiple + creative locations and one very smug husband who knocked you up in paradise, married life, baby fever, hormone-induced chaos, obsessed husband!Cheol x obsessed wife!reader, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 18.1k
Sometimes being married to Choi Seungcheol felt like a fever dream as you often wondered how you managed to bag a man that ticked every box. He had his moments, his little beige flags as you liked to call them, but you knew that man loved you which is why you’re seeking him out as soon as you stumble through your front door. You had an itch only your husband could scratch and if you were right, he would still be holed up in the home office.
Seungcheol had been reading reports in his home office when he heard the front door slam. A quick look at his watch alerts him to the time, 1:47 AM.
His eyes narrowed. Why didn’t you call him to come pick you up? He gets out of his chair when he hears the unmistakable sound of heels being kicked off carelessly and soft humming.
“My husband!” your voice singsongs from the down the hall. “Where are youuu?”
He barely has time to make it to the hallway before you stumble into the room seconds later, eyes glazed and clutching your purse like it’s plotting against you.
“Babyyyy,” you gasp, “There you are.”
His brows draw together. “You’re drunk.”
You blink at him, smile growing. “Nuh-uh, just a tiny bit tipsy.” You measure with your fingers before breaking into a fit of giggles. Seungcheol can count on one hand how many times he’s seen you drunk—it’s still one hand—as you can hold your liquor very well.
You walk—well, sway—across the room and launch yourself at him. He stumbles half a step back, catching you as your arms wrap tightly around his waist, face burying into his chest.
“You smell expensive and…sexy,” you mumble.
“What happened?” he asks, voice low.
“Work has been shit,” you whisper. “Needed a—” you hiccup, “—a break.”
He exhales slowly before his hand finds its way to your back. His grip tightens as he studies your lightly smudged eyeliner and flushed cheeks. The scent of your favorite wine lingers on your breath but beneath it lies your usual perfume, brown sugar, coconut, vanilla.
“You’re a mess,” he murmurs, though there’s no bite in his tone.
You giggle against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. “You married this mess.”
A beat of silence passes before his lips twitch despite himself. “What am going to do with you, huh?”
The weight of you against him is familiar, grounding even, despite the alcohol-fueled abandon in your movements. Seungcheol’s hand moves in slow, deliberate circles against your back, a habit he’s developed over the years; one that always seems to settle you.
“Do with me?” you repeat, pulling back just enough to look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes are glassy but focused entirely on him, pupils blown wide. “I have some ideas.”
He catches the shift in your tone immediately, the way your fingers stop their aimless fidgeting and instead trace deliberate paths along his chest. His jaw tightens.
“You’re drunk,” he repeats, firmer this time, even as his treacherous body responds to your proximity.
“In loveeeeee” you respond as you attempt to sing lyrics from Drunk in Love.
Seungcheol’s resolve wavers as you butcher the Beyoncé song, swaying in his arms with unselfconscious joy. Despite everything—the late hour, the worry that had knotted in his chest when he heard the door slam, the very valid concern about your current state—he feels his lips curve into a reluctant smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his hands have already moved to steady you, one sliding to your hip while the other cups the back of your head.
“Ridiculously in love with you,” you counter, poking his chest for emphasis. The motion throws off your already questionable balance, and you stumble forward again.
He catches you easily, muscle memory from years of being your safety net. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Ooh, bed,” you waggle your eyebrows in a way that would be seductive if you weren’t also hiccupping. “See? You do have ideas.”
“To sleep,” he clarifies, already guiding you toward the bedroom with his arm firmly around your waist. “We’re going to bed to sleep. You’re going to wake up tomorrow wondering why you thought drinking on a work night was a good idea.”
“Tomorrow me’s problem,” you declare, then immediately contradict yourself by clinging tighter to him. “Don’t you dare leave me alone tonight, Choi Seungcheol.”
Something in your voice—beneath the alcohol and the playfulness—sounds small. Vulnerable.
His expression softens. “Never,” he promises quietly. “Now come on, let’s get you changed.”
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You stop and ask randomly as he sits you on the bathroom counter and tries to remove your makeup.
Seungcheol blinks. This was getting more surreal by the second. You were sitting before him, arms hanging off his shoulders with your head tilted with genuine curiosity and you wanted to know if he’d love you…as a worm? He’s quiet for a moment. Then, his hands curve around your waist.
“A worm?” he repeats, deadpan. “Seriously?”
“Yahhhh, you wouldn’t?” You pout.
Seungcheol sighs, the kind of deep, put-upon sigh that somehow still sounds fond. He reaches for the micellar water and a cotton pad, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can start wiping away your makeup.
“Hold still,” he murmurs, ignoring your question as he gently swipes at your eyeliner.
“You’re avoiding the question!” you accuse, though you do hold still,mostly. “That means you wouldn’t love me. You’d just…leave me in the dirt somewhere. Alone. A poor, lonely worm—”
“I would build you a terrarium,” he interrupts, deadpan, moving to your other eye. “With the best soil money can buy. Organic, the expensive kind.”
You gasp, eyes flying open and nearly getting makeup remover in them. He gently presses them closed again with his thumb.
“I said hold still.”
“You’d really build me a terrarium?” Your voice has gone soft, touched, as if he’s just promised you the moon.
“Mhm.” He’s focused on removing your mascara now, touch careful and practiced. “With a heated lamp. Perfect pH balance in the soil. I’d probably hire someone to monitor your…worm health.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m answering your question.” His lips twitch as he tosses the used cotton pad aside and reaches for another. “You’d be the most spoiled worm in existence. I’d make sure of it.”
You’re quiet for a moment and when he glances at your face, you’re smiling at him with such open adoration it makes something in his chest squeeze tight.
“I love you,” you whisper.
His hand pauses mid-swipe. Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and lingering.
“I love you too,” he murmurs against your skin. “Even if you ask me stupid questions at two in the morning.”
“Not stupid,” you mumble but you’re already melting into him again, arms tightening around his shoulders. “Important worm logistics.”
“Right. Very important.” He pulls back just enough to finish cleaning your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “Now let’s get you into pajamas before you ask me what I’d do if you were a dolphin.”
“Ooh, would you—”
“No.”
You cup his cheeks in your hands squishing them together, looking at him with those eyes before you kiss him. “Please, Cheollie? Want you?”
“Not tonight, princess.” It’s utterly amazing, the way you switch from asking him unhinged shit to asking him to fuck you. It should give him whiplash but it’s not the first time it’s happened.
“‘m not drunk…” you pout. “Can’t a girl just want her hot husband?”
Seungcheol’s jaw flexes under your palms, his eyes darkening despite his best efforts to maintain composure. He gently pulls your hands away from his face but doesn’t let go, instead intertwining his fingers with yours.
“You can,” he says, voice lower now, rougher around the edges. “And you will, tomorrow. When you’re sober and won’t regret it.”
“I would never regret you,” you protest, leaning forward until your forehead rests against his. “Not possible. Scientifically impossible.”
“Scientifically impossible,” he repeats and there’s amusement threading through the restraint in his tone. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.” You nod seriously, the motion making you slightly dizzy. “Did research. Very thorough.”
His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand; that same grounding gesture, keeping himself anchored as much as you. “Your research involved how much wine exactly?”
“Irrelevant data,” you whisper, then press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “The conclusion is still valid.”
He inhales sharply and for a moment you think you’ve won. His free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your bottom lip but then he’s pulling back, putting necessary distance between you even as everything in his expression says he doesn’t want to.
“I’m not doing this while you’re drunk,” he says firmly. “I don’t care how much you pout or how many times you tell me you’re fine. This is non-negotiable.”
You study him for a long moment, his set jaw, his dark eyes that are clearly affected despite his iron will, the way his hand trembles just slightly against yours.
“You really won’t?” you ask, quieter now.
“I really won’t.” His expression softens. “Ask me tomorrow. When you can look me in the eye without the room spinning. When you’ll actually remember every detail.” His voice drops to something almost possessive. “Because when I do touch you, I want you to remember all of it.”
The promise in his words sends heat pooling low in your stomach despite your alcohol-hazed state. You bite your lip and his eyes track the movement with dangerous focus before he deliberately looks away.
“Evil man,” you mutter. “Making me wait.”
“Responsible husband,” he corrects, then slides you off the counter and scoops you up bridal style in one smooth motion. “Now come on. Pajamas, water, bed, in that order.”
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “But I’m picking the pajamas.”
“As long as you actually put them on instead of trying to seduce me again.”
“No promises.”
He huffs what might be a laugh as he carries you toward the bedroom. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Y’know everyone thinks I married you for your status and money.” You say switching the subject again as he starts unbuttoning your shirt.
“No, you didn’t. You had no idea who my family was when we met so I know it’s not that.”
“I married you for that fat ass.” you reply, hands drifting down and grabbing his ass. “don’t need your money.” You grin at the look on his face.
“God, I forgot how handsy you get with alcohol in your system.”
“Horny too but I guess I don’t do it for you cause…what kinda hisb—” you hiccup “husband doesn’t like his wife t-throwing herself at him? Is it Jeonghan? Is Hannie prettier than me?”
Seungcheol freezes mid-button, his eyes snapping to yours with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief.
“Did you just—” He stops, takes a breath, then continues with strained patience. “Did you seriously just ask me if I want Jeonghan?”
“Well, you don’t want me,” you say, bottom lip trembling in a way that would be more effective if you weren’t also still squeezing his ass. “He’s got nice hair,” you say defensively, words slurring slightly. “And that whole…pretty boy thing going on. Maybe you like that better than—”
“Jesus Christ woman,” Seungcheol mutters, catching your wandering hands and firmly moving them to your sides. “Okay, listen to me very carefully.”
He cups your face with both hands, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“First of all, Jeonghan is my best friend and I love him like a brother, which means the thought of anything else makes me want to bleach my brain.” His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he continues, voice firm but gentle. “Second, I always want you. Every single day. Sometimes so much it’s inconvenient, like in the middle of board meetings when you text me something cute.”
“Really?” you sniffle.
“Really.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “The reason I’m not touching you right now isn’t because I don’t want to. It’s because I respect you too much to take advantage when you’re drunk. Do you understand the difference?”
You’re quiet for a moment, processing. Then, “So, you do think I’m prettier than Hannie?”
A laugh bursts out of him, unexpected and genuine. “You’re completely ridiculous, you know that?”
“But am I prettier?”
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he says and the sincerity in his voice cuts through your alcohol-fogged brain. “Drunk, sober, first thing in the morning, all dressed up, doesn’t matter. It’s always you. Only you.”
Your eyes well up. “Cheollie…”
“Oh no.” He recognizes the signs immediately. “No crying. We’re not doing drunk crying tonight.”
“But you’re so nice to me,” you warble, tears already spilling over. “And I love you so much and you built me a theoretical worm terrarium, and you think I’m pretty—”
“I think we need to get you in pajamas right now,” he says, already reaching for the shirt buttons again with renewed determination, “before this spiral gets worse.”
“’m not spiraling,” you protest, even as another tear rolls down your cheek. “Just got a lot of feelings about my hot, respectful, worm-loving husband.”
“Worm-loving,” he repeats under his breath. “What is my life?”
“Your life is amazing,” you inform him, helpfully (unhelpfully) trying to unbutton your own shirt and just making the process more difficult. “You have me. And my ass. Which is also amazing.”
“I’m aware,” he says dryly, gently batting your hands away so he can actually finish unbuttoning. “I married it, remember?”
You gasp, delighted. “You do remember! See, we’re perfect for each other. You married my ass, I married your ass—”
“That’s not how marriage works.”
“—it’s like…ass-tronomy. No, wait. Ass-trology? We’re ass-trologically compatible.”
Seungcheol pauses, shirt halfway off your shoulders, and just looks at you. “Did you just—you can’t just put ‘ass’ in front of words and expect them to make sense.”
“Ass-olutely can,” you say with complete conviction.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly praying for strength. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“You love it,” you singsong, finally cooperating enough to let him pull your shirt off. “You love meee and my drunk ass puns.”
“I love you despite your drunk ass puns,” he corrects, reaching for one of his old t-shirts from the drawer. “Arms up.”
You obey, lifting your arms like a toddler as he slides the shirt over your head. It’s enormous on you, falling nearly to your knees and smells like his cologne and laundry detergent. You immediately burrow into it with a happy sigh.
“Now pants,” he says, reaching for your waistband.
“Ooh, taking my pants off. Scandalous.”
“We’re literally married.”
“Still scandalous.” You boop his nose as he efficiently unbuttons your pants. “You’re being very professional about this. Very doctor-y. Do you do this for all your patients?”
“You’re my only patient and you’re testing my patience,” he mutters, helping you step out of your pants. “Other leg. Good.”
“Such a good caretaker,” you coo, patting his head as he kneels in front of you. “Gonna leave you five stars on MangoPlate. ‘Husband refused to have sex with drunk wife. Very responsible. Would recommend.’”
He looks up at you with an expression of pure suffering. “Please never write that review.”
“‘Also has a great ass,’” you continue thoughtfully. “‘Ass-ceptional, even.’”
“I’m begging you to stop.”
“‘Ass-tounding restraint—’”
He stands abruptly and just picks you up, cutting off your commentary as you squeal in surprise. “Okay. That’s enough. Water and bed. Now.”
“You can’t silence me!” you declare, even as you wrap your arms around his neck. “The people deserve to know about your ass!”
“The people know plenty,” he says, carrying you toward the bed with the long-suffering patience of a saint. “Now drink this.”
He somehow manages to grab the water bottle from the nightstand one-handed and present it to you. You take it obediently, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and even in your drunk state, you don’t miss the way his voice dips on those words.
You lower the water bottle, eyes narrowing. “You can’t just say things like that and then refuse to—”
“Drink,” he interrupts firmly, tipping the bottle back up toward your lips.
You drink, plotting your revenge but the cool water actually does help clear some of the fog. When you’ve had enough, he sets the bottle aside and carefully deposits you onto your side of the bed.
“Stay,” he commands, pointing at you like you’re a mischievous puppy.
“Woof,” you respond because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth has completely dissolved. He huffs what might be a laugh and disappears into the bathroom. You hear water running and then he’s back with a damp washcloth, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Come here,” he says softly, and when you scoot closer, he gently wipes your face; getting the spots he missed earlier, cooling your flushed cheeks. It’s tender and intimate in a way that makes your chest ache.
“Cheol?” you whisper.
“Mm?”
“’m really glad I married you. Not just for your ass.”
His lips twitch. “Good to know.”
“For your heart too. And your face. And the way you take care of me even when I’m being ridiculous. Oh, and that dick, can’t forget about that.”
“Woman, I swear to—”
“Just lemme keep it warm, please?” Your hand moves to rest low on his stomach. There you go trying to get him to fuck you, again.
“Baby, no. We both know you won’t stop there.”
You open your mouth to protest—to make very compelling arguments about your self-control and how you would totally just keep things innocent—but he cuts you off by pressing his thumb gently against your lips.
“Don’t,” he warns, though there’s affection in his eyes. “Don’t make promises drunk-you can’t keep. I know you.”
You deflate slightly because, fine, he’s right. Sober-you has minimal self-control around him. Drunk-you has absolutely none which is exactly why you keep asking.
“Just wanna feel you inside, promise I’ll behave.”
Seungcheol’s composure cracks visibly, his breath hitches, his grip on the washcloth tightening as his eyes darken with want. For a moment, you think you’ve finally broken through his resolve.
Then he closes his eyes, jaw working and when he opens them again his expression is pained but firm.
“You’re killing me,” he says roughly. “You know that?”
“Good,” you mumble, though you’re already yawning. “Suffer with me.” You say pressing your lips to his.
“I shouldn’t have to deal with my ovulation alone.” And suddenly the wheels are turning in Seungcheol’s head. He goes completely still against your lips, his brain clearly short-circuiting as he processes what you just said.
“Your…what?” He pulls back to look at you, eyes wide.
“Ovulation,” you repeat matter-of-factly, like you’re discussing the weather. “Why d’you think I’m so horny? It’s science, Cheollie. Biology. Nature.” You wave your hand dramatically. “My body wants a baby and it’s making me crazy and you’re—you’re just sitting here looking all hot and responsible and—”
“Okay,” he interrupts, voice strangled. “Okay, we’re not, you can’t just drop that information on me while you’re drunk and expect me to—”
“To what?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious despite the alcohol. “Finally give your wife what she wants?”
His eyes flutter closed and he takes several deep breaths, clearly fighting an internal battle. When he opens them again, there’s a new tension in his expression; want, restraint, and something darker all tangled together.
“That’s not fair,” he says roughly. “You can’t use the ovulation card. That’s playing dirty.”
“Everything’s fair in love and baby-making,” you counter, then giggle at your own modification of the phrase.
“We are not having this conversation right now,” he says firmly, even as his hand unconsciously tightens on your hip. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. When you’re sober, when we can have an actual discussion about—about family planning and—”
“Already know I want your babies,” you interrupt, cupping his face. “Known that for years. Since like…our third date probably.”
“Third date,” he repeats faintly.
“Mhm. You were wearing that gray sweater and you laughed at my joke and I just thought—” you sigh dreamily, “—‘yeah, I want tiny humans with his laugh and dimples.’”
Something shifts in his expression; it goes soft and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart squeeze even through the alcohol haze.
“You’re not playing fair at all,” he whispers.
“Don’t wanna play fair,” you whisper back. “Want you. Want your baby. Want—” another yawn interrupts you, “—want you to stop being so responsible and just…”
But exhaustion is finally catching up with you, the alcohol and emotional rollercoaster of the evening taking their toll. Your eyes are getting heavier despite your best efforts.
Seungcheol notices immediately, his expression gentling. “There we go,” he murmurs, carefully maneuvering you under the covers. “Finally.”
“’m not tired,” you protest weakly, even as you burrow into the pillow.
“Sure you’re not.” He slides in next to you and immediately you roll toward him, seeking his warmth.
“Cheol?” you mumble against his chest.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Tomorrow…we can talk about it? The baby thing?”
His arm tightens around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow.”
“And you’ll actually consider it? Not just…say we’ll talk and then avoid it?”
There’s a pause, and then, “I’ve been considering it for months,” he admits quietly. “I just wanted to wait for the right time. When we were both ready.”
You manage to pull back just enough to look at him, suddenly feeling more alert. “Months?”
He smiles, a little embarrassed. “Why do you think I cleared out the guest room last month? I’ve been planning…thinking about turning it into a nursery. Eventually.”
“You—” your eyes well up again, “—you sneaky, wonderful man.”
“Don’t cry,” he says, but he’s smiling as he wipes away the tears with his thumb. “Save it for tomorrow when you can properly yell at me for not telling you sooner.”
“Gonna yell and cry,” you inform him. “And then jump your bones.”
“Looking forward to it,” he says dryly. “Now sleep. You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”
“Worth it,” you mumble, already drifting. “Got you to admit you want babies…”
“I want your babies,” he corrects softly. “There’s a difference.”
But you’re already asleep, a small smile on your face, wrapped securely in your husband’s arms. Seungcheol lies awake a little longer, looking down at you; his drunk, ridiculous, beautiful wife who just ambushed him with baby talk and ass puns in the same conversation.
“What am I going to do with you?” he whispers, echoing his earlier question.
But this time, he’s smiling as he says it. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow they’ll talk—really talk—about the future. About expanding their family. About all the things he’s been too cautious to bring up, worried about timing and readiness and a thousand other factors.
But tonight, you’re here, safe and warm and his, talking about wanting his babies since the third date.
Yeah. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.
He presses one more kiss to your forehead before settling in, keeping you close. His ovulating, drunk, perfect disaster of a wife. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
The next morning, you wake up to three things; a pounding headache that feels like a marching band has taken up residence in your skull, blinding sunlight streaming through curtains you thought you closed and the smell of coffee and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.
You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. Your mouth tastes like something died in it and when you try to sit up, the room spins just enough to make you regret every life choice that led to this moment.
“Oh god,” you mutter, flopping back down.
Fragments of last night start filtering back through the haze. Coming home late. Seungcheol’s concerned face. The bathroom counter. Worm terrarium? You definitely said something about worms. And then—
Your eyes fly open.
“Oh no.”
The baby conversation. The ovulation announcement. Your very detailed commentary about your husband’s ass. The—you bury your face in your hands—the begging.
“Kill me now,” you whisper to the empty room.
“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
You nearly jump out of your skin. Seungcheol is leaning against the doorframe, holding a mug of coffee and wearing an expression that can only be described as deeply amused.
He’s already somewhat dressed for the day in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hair slightly damp from a shower, looking infuriatingly well-rested and attractive. Meanwhile, you’re pretty sure you look like a gremlin who lost a fight with a bottle of wine.
“How long have you been standing there?” you croak.
“Long enough to hear you bargaining with God.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks over, setting the coffee on the nightstand. “How’s the head?”
“Like I deserve it,” you admit, gratefully reaching for the mug. “How much did I—” you pause, coffee halfway to your lips, “—how bad was it?”
His smile grows. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“Cheol.”
“You asked if I’d love you as a worm,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You accused me of wanting Jeonghan. You made approximately ten puns involving the word ‘ass.’ And—” his expression shifts to something more heated, “—you made some very compelling arguments about baby-making.”
You choke on your coffee. “Oh my god.”
“Also, apparently you decided you married me for my ‘fat ass’ and not my money or status, which is good to know.”
“I hate everything,” you moan, setting the coffee down so you can bury your face in your hands again. “I’m never drinking again. I’m becoming a nun. I’m moving to a remote island where I can’t embarrass myself—”
“Hey.” His hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. His expression is soft now, affectionate. “You were cute.”
“I was a disaster.”
“A cute disaster.” He coils a loose curl around his finger. “You always are when you drink. It’s part of your charm.”
“There’s nothing charming about drunk me telling you I want to—” you can’t even finish the sentence, heat flooding your face.
“Keep me warm?” he supplies helpfully. “Just want it inside you, you’d behave, you promised?”
“Seungcheol.”
He’s grinning now, clearly enjoying your mortification. “Or was it the part where you said your ovulation shouldn’t be a solo activity?”
You grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. He laughs, catching it easily and tossing it aside before catching both your wrists in his hands.
“I’m just saying,” he continues, eyes dancing with mischief, “you were very…articulate about your needs.”
“I’m going back to sleep,” you announce, trying to pull away. “Wake me in ten years when I’ve died of embarrassment.”
“Can’t do that either.” He releases one wrist but keeps hold of the other, his thumb tracing circles on your pulse point. “We have things to discuss. Remember?”
Your heart skips. The amusement in his expression hasn’t faded, but there’s something else there now; something serious and warm and a little nervous.
“The…baby thing?” you venture quietly.
“The baby thing,” he confirms. “But first—” he reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves two pills and a glass of water you hadn’t noticed, “—pain meds. Then breakfast. Then we talk.”
“Cheol, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or—”
“You didn’t.” He’s firm about that, waiting until you take the medication before continuing. “You surprised me, yeah. But uncomfortable? No.” He pauses. “Turned on while trying desperately to maintain my morals? Absolutely, but not uncomfortable.”
Despite everything, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “I really tried to break you, huh?”
“You almost succeeded,” he admits. “The ovulation thing was a low blow.”
“It’s true though,” you say, then immediately want to take it back because…
“I know.” His voice drops, eyes darkening. “I checked the calendar while you were sleeping. You’re right in the middle of your fertile window.”
The air between you shifts, charges. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in bed, wearing only his t-shirt and he’s looking at you like,
“Breakfast first,” he says firmly, standing up. “You need food and hydration. Then we’ll talk. Really talk. About timing, readiness and what we both want.”
“And if we decide we want the same thing?” you ask, unable to help yourself.
He leans down, bracing one hand on the mattress beside you, bringing his face close to yours. “Then I clear my schedule for the rest of the day,” he murmurs. “And give you exactly what you were begging for last night.”
Your breath catches.
“But sober,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before straightening. “And enthusiastically consenting to every single detail.”
“That’s—” you have to clear your throat, “—very responsible of you.”
“Someone has to be.” He heads toward the door, then pauses. “Oh, and baby? For the record?” He looks back with a devastating smile. “I’ve been ready for months. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Then he’s gone, leaving you sitting in bed, headache temporarily forgotten, heart racing with possibilities. From the kitchen, you hear him call, “French toast or pancakes?”
“French toast!” you call back, already scrambling out of bed.
Suddenly, you’re feeling much better about facing this day and the conversation that could change everything.
You pad into the kitchen after finishing your morning routine. He’s plating the last of breakfast before sitting down and as you go to take your place beside him, he pulls you onto his lap.
“Cheol?”
“You asked me to keep it warm last night,” he whispers. “Think you can do that while we sit and have breakfast, love? Bet I’d be able to slide right in.”
You freeze, every nerve ending suddenly awake and hyper-aware. Your headache? Gone. The lingering nausea? Vanished. There’s only Seungcheol beneath you, solid and warm, his breath hot against your ear.
“I…what?” Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy.
His hands settle on your hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing. “You heard me.” His voice is low, rough in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “You wanted this last night. Said you’d behave. That you just wanted to feel full.”
“I was drunk,” you manage, even as your body is already responding, already leaning back against his chest.
“And now you’re sober.” His lips brush the shell of your ear. “So, I’m asking properly. Do you want this? Want to sit here, keeping me warm while we eat breakfast and talk about our future?”
Your breath hitches. This is…it’s obscene. It’s intimate in a way that makes your head spin and you want it so badly you can barely think straight.
“What about the talking?” you whisper. “The responsible conversation?”
“We can still talk.” One hand slides up your spine, settling between your shoulder blades. “I can be very articulate, even when I’m buried inside you. Question is, can you?”
It’s a challenge. One you’ve never backed down from.
You turn your head just enough to meet his eyes. They’re dark, intense but there’s a question there too. Real consent. Making sure this is what you actually want and not just lingering drunk decisions.
“Yes,” you breathe. “I want this.”
His grip tightens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You shift in his lap, feeling him already half-hard beneath you. “Want you. Always want you.”
He makes a low sound in his throat. “Lift up a little, baby.”
You obey, bracing your hands on his thighs as he shifts beneath you. You hear the rustle of fabric, feel him pushing his sweatpants down just enough, and then,
“No underwear?” His voice is strained as his fingers trace up your bare thighs, discovering you came to the kitchen in just his shirt and nothing else.
“Seemed inefficient,” you manage, gasping when his fingers brush where you need him most.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and you feel him stroke himself once, twice. “You’re already so wet.”
“Told you,” you say breathlessly. “Ovulation. Biology. Can’t help—oh—”
He’s guiding himself to your entrance, letting you feel the blunt pressure of him. “Slow,” he murmurs. “Take your time. We’ve got all morning.”
You lower yourself gradually, inch by torturous inch, feeling the stretch and burn and perfect fullness of him. His hands are steady on your hips, helping you and his breathing is harsh against your neck.
“That’s it,” he encourages roughly. “Just like that, baby. So good for me.”
When you’re fully seated, both of you still for a moment. You’re trembling slightly, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it; sitting in his lap in your bright kitchen, completely joined, the morning sun streaming through the windows.
“Okay?” he asks, voice strained.
“So okay,” you breathe. “So…Cheol, you feel—”
“I know.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I know, baby. Now—” he reaches around you for the plates, sliding them closer, “—breakfast.”
You laugh, slightly delirious. “You can’t be serious.”
“Completely serious.” He picks up a fork, cutting a piece of French toast. “Open.”
This is insane. You’re sitting on your husband’s lap in the kitchen, full of him, while he feeds you breakfast like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You open your mouth and he slides the fork in. The French toast is perfect, crispy outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of cinnamon and syrup. You chew slowly, hyper-aware of every small movement, how even that makes you shift slightly on him.
His breath catches. “Don’t,” he warns.
“Don’t what?” You shift deliberately, just a little and feel him twitch inside you. “I’m just eating breakfast.”
“You’re playing with fire,” he growls but he’s already cutting another piece. “Now, let’s talk about this baby thing.”
You nearly choke on nothing. “Now? You want to have this conversation now?”
“Why not?” His free hand settles possessively on your lower belly, thumb stroking just above where you’re joined. “Seems like the perfect time. Can’t run away. Can’t deflect. You’ve got my undivided attention.”
His voice is teasing but there’s an edge of seriousness underneath. He really does want to talk about this. Like this. Your utterly insane, wonderful husband.
“Okay,” you manage, reaching for your coffee with shaking hands. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
“So,” Seungcheol says, his voice remarkably steady despite the situation, “you said last night you’ve wanted this since our third date.”
You take a sip of coffee, trying to focus on the conversation and not the fact that you can feel every minute shift of his body. “I—yeah. I mean, not immediately, obviously but I knew. Knew that I wanted a future with you. Kids. All of it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” His hand is still on your belly, thumb tracing idle patterns that are absolutely not helping your concentration.
“I don’t know. Timing? We were building our careers, and I didn’t want to pressure you, and—” you gasp softly as he shifts slightly beneath you, “—are you doing that on purpose?”
“No,” he says but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Just getting comfortable. Keep talking.”
“You’re evil.”
“You’re stalling.” He offers you another bite of French toast. “Come on. I want to hear this.” You accept the bite, chewing while trying to organize your thoughts, which is nearly impossible when you’re so acutely aware of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely.
“I was scared,” you finally admit. “That maybe you didn’t want the same things. That I’d bring it up and you’d feel trapped or obligated and then months kept passing and it felt like the moment never came up naturally and—” you laugh shakily, “—I guess drunk me decided to just rip the bandaid off.”
“Drunk you has terrible timing but good instincts.” His lips brush your shoulder. “I’ve been wanting to have this conversation for months too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He sets down the fork, both hands coming to rest on your hips now. “I meant what I said earlier. About clearing out the guest room. I’ve been thinking about it constantly…what it would be like. You, pregnant. A baby. Our baby.”
Your heart stutters. “Cheol…”
“I think about you with a bump,” he continues, voice going rougher. “About feeling them kick. About watching you become a mother.” His hips shift up slightly, making you gasp. “About putting a baby in you.”
“That’s—oh god—that’s not fair,” you whimper, fingers digging into his thighs.
“What’s not fair?”
“Saying things like that when I can’t move, can’t—”
“Who says you can’t move?” His grip tightens on your hips. “I said sit still during breakfast. We’re done eating now.”
Your breath catches. “Are we?”
“Mhmm.” One hand slides up to cup your breast through the thin t-shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple. “I think it’s time for dessert. Don’t you?”
“Seungcheol—”
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, voice dropping to that commanding tone that never fails to undo you. “Use your words, baby. Sober words.”
You’re trembling now, desperate. “Want you. Want this. Want—” you break off as his other hand slides between your legs, finding where you’re joined.
“Want what?” he presses. “Say it.”
“Want you to fuck me,” you gasp out. “Want you to put a baby in me. Want…please, Cheollie, please—”
“There she is,” he murmurs approvingly. Then his grip shifts, and he’s lifting you slightly before pulling you back down, finally, finally giving you the friction you’ve been craving.
You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder as he sets a devastating rhythm. The breakfast dishes rattle on the table with each thrust and you distantly think you should care about the mess you’re probably making but then he angles his hips just right and all thoughts scatter.
“That’s it,” he growls against your neck. “Take it. Take all of me.”
“Yes, god, yes—”
His hand on your breast squeezes while the other works between your legs and the combination is overwhelming. You’re already close, wound too tight from sitting still for so long, from the filthy intimacy of it all.
“Gonna fill you up,” he pants. “Gonna give you exactly what you want. What we both want. You want that, baby? Want me to get you pregnant?”
“Yes,” you sob and you’re not even sure if it’s the hormones or the moment or the fact that this is your husband, your partner, your person and you’re finally talking about this, finally doing this…
“Come for me first,” he demands. “Let me feel it. Show me how much you want this.”
His fingers press harder and that’s all it takes. You shatter, clenching around him, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you in waves.
“Fuck, baby—” his rhythm falters, becomes erratic and then he’s following you over, groaning against your neck as he pulses inside you, holding you tight against him. For a long moment, neither of you move. You’re both breathing hard, trembling, still joined together as aftershocks roll through you.
“So,” Seungcheol finally says, voice rough and satisfied, “I think that’s a yes? We’re doing this?”
You laugh breathlessly, turning your head to kiss him. “Yeah, we’re doing this.”
“Good.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Because I meant every word. I want this. Want you. Want our family.”
“Even though I ambushed you while drunk?”
“Especially because you ambushed me while drunk.” You can feel his smile against your skin. “Shows you trust me. Even when you’re not in control.”
You shift slightly and he groans. “Don’t move yet. Just…let me hold you like this for a minute.”
So, you do, sitting in your dining room in the morning sunlight, still connected, still close, talking softly about the future you’re going to build together.
About nursery colors and baby names and how you’ll tell your families and whether you want to know the gender or be surprised. About all the beautiful, terrifying, wonderful possibilities ahead and when he finally, reluctantly slips out of you, he immediately scoops you up and carries you back to the bedroom.
“Again?” you ask, surprised but definitely not opposed.
“We’re optimizing our chances,” he says seriously but his eyes are dancing. “It’s just good planning.”
“You’re a fein.”
“You’re ovulating,” he counters, laying you gently on the bed. “And I have months of baby-making fantasies to work through. So,” he crawls over you, settling between your thighs, “we’re going to be here a while.”
“What about our schedules?” you tease. “Don’t you have meetings? I have work.”
“Cancelled everything,” he says, leaning down to kiss you slowly, deeply. “Told them I have important business with my wife.”
“Very important business,” you agree, gasping as he enters you again.
“The most important,” he murmurs against your lips. He flips you on your hands and knees first, arched just the way he wants you.
“Stay just like that,” Seungcheol commands, his hands spreading across your lower back, pressing down slightly to deepen the arch. “Perfect. So, fucking perfect.”
You’re trembling already, forehead pressed against the sheets, completely exposed to him. You feel vulnerable like this, open, but the way he’s looking at you; you can practically feel the heat of his gaze dragging over every inch of exposed skin.
“Cheol—” you start but the word cuts off into a moan as he runs his hands up your sides, thumbs tracing your spine.
“Shhh,” he soothes, though there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s positioning you, adjusting your hips exactly where he wants them. “Just feel.”
One hand wraps around your hip while the other slides between your legs, finding you still wet, still sensitive from before. You jerk at the contact and his grip tightens, holding you steady.
“Still so ready for me,” he muses, almost conversational, like he’s not currently destroying your composure with just his fingers. “Even after I just filled you up. You really do want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you gasp into the sheets. “God, yes, please…”
“Please what?” He’s teasing now, the head of his cock brushing against you but not entering, just barely there, making you crazy.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper, trying to push back against him, but his hand on your hip keeps you in place. “Please, I need—”
“Need what, baby? Use your words.”
“Need you inside me,” you practically sob. “Need you to…to get me pregnant, need you to—oh fuck—”
He slides in with one smooth thrust, burying himself completely, and the angle is devastating. You can feel him so deep like this, stretching you, filling every inch.
“This what you need?” His voice is strained now, control slipping. Both hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise and you hope they do, want to see the marks tomorrow, proof of this.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop—”
“Not stopping,” he growls, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Not until you’re dripping with me. Not until I know it took.” The pace he sets is brutal, desperate, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you crying out with each thrust. One hand leaves your hip to fist in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding you.
“Gonna look so good pregnant,” he pants. “Gonna love watching your belly grow. Knowing I did that. That you’re carrying my baby.”
“Cheol—” you’re incoherent now, can only hold on as he takes you apart.
“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want your baby,” you gasp out. “Want you to…to come inside me, want—god—want everyone to know I’m yours.”
His rhythm stutters at that, becomes somehow even more intense. “Mine,” he agrees roughly. “Always mine. My wife. Mother of my children. Mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice, the certainty, sends you spiraling. Your second orgasm hits harder than the first, whiting out your vision and you feel yourself clench around him rhythmically.
“Fuck—baby—” he groans and then he’s there too, pressing as deep as he can go, holding you against him as he fills you again. This time when he pulls out, he immediately maneuvers you onto your back, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your hips before you can protest.
“Elevate,” he explains breathlessly and you can’t help but laugh.
“You really did research.”
“Told you.” He collapses partially on top of you with his head resting on your chest. “Months of thinking about this. I’m prepared.”
Your fingers find his hair, feeling satisfied and tender and so completely loved. “How long do I have to stay like this?”
“Twenty minutes at least.” His hand finds your belly again, splaying possessively across it. “Maybe thirty to be safe.”
“And what are we doing for the next twenty to thirty minutes?”
His eyes darken again and you feel him already starting to harden against your thigh. “Well,” he says thoughtfully, “I can think of a few ways to pass the time. After all—” he rolls you on your side carefully, mindful of the pillow, settling behind you and lifting your leg up and over his hip, “—we should really make sure we’re being thorough.”
“Thorough,” you repeat breathlessly.
“Very thorough,” he agrees, kissing down your neck. “It’s important to be thorough about these things.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“You’re irresistible.” He nips at your collarbone. “And ovulating. And my wife. Who I’m trying to get pregnant. So yes—” he enters you again, slow and deep, making you both groan, “—insatiable sounds about right.”
And as he begins to move again, slow and intimate and perfect, you think that maybe drunk you had the right idea after all.
Sometimes the best conversations happen in the most unexpected ways.
Seungcheol folds you with both legs to your chest and you know your body is going to complain about it later.
“Wait, Cheol—” you gasp as he pushes your knees toward your chest, folding you in half.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, his hands hooking under your knees, spreading you open as he presses them down. “This angle—fuck, baby, you have no idea—”
And then he’s sliding back in, and oh—he’s right. The angle is incredible. Overwhelming. He’s somehow even deeper like this, hitting spots that make stars explode behind your eyelids.
“Oh my god—” you can barely breathe, pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy.
“That’s it,” he groans, watching where you’re joined with dark, hungry eyes. “Take it. Take all of me.”
Your flexibility has never been your strong suit and you can already feel the strain in your hips, your thighs protesting the position but the pleasure overrides everything else; the way he’s grinding against you with each thrust, the delicious pressure, the intimacy of being folded completely under him.
“You’re so deep,” you whimper, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his forearms. “I can’t…it’s too much—”
“Not too much,” he counters, but there’s a question in his eyes even as he maintains the brutal pace. “Color?”
“Green,” you gasp immediately. “So green, don’t stop, please don’t—ah—”
His thumb finds your clit, circling with perfect pressure, and you nearly scream. Everything is heightened like this, every nerve ending on fire, every thrust punching the air from your lungs.
“Gonna keep you just like this,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple. “Gonna fill you up so deep it has to take. You want that?”
“Yes—yes—Cheol, I’m—”
“I know, baby. I can feel it.” His movements become more purposeful, grinding deep rather than thrusting, the friction against your clit constant and maddening. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you want my baby.”
The combination of his words, his thumb, the relentless pressure against that spot deep inside, it’s too much. You shatter with a cry that’s probably too loud for the morning, clenching around him so hard you see white.
“Fuck, just like that—” Seungcheol’s rhythm falters, his hips jerking erratically as he follows you over the edge for the fourth time, groaning your name like a prayer as he empties himself inside you.
He stays buried deep for a long moment, both of you panting, trembling. Then carefully—so carefully—he releases your legs, helping you straighten them out with gentle hands.
“Ow,” you whimper immediately as your hips protest, muscles cramping.
“Sorry, sorry—” he’s already massaging your thighs, pressing kisses to your knees. “I got carried away.”
“Worth it,” you manage, even as you wince. “But I’m definitely going to feel that tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a massage later,” he promises, still working the tension from your muscles. “A proper one. With oil and everything.”
“You better.” You reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss. “I’m going to be walking funny for days.”
“Good,” he says against your lips, unrepentant. “Let everyone wonder why.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You love it.” He rolls to the side, immediately pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand finds your belly again; it’s apparently his new favorite spot. “Think it worked?”
“Cheol, we can’t possibly know that yet—”
“But do you think it worked?” he insists, almost childlike in his eagerness.
You soften, covering his hand with yours. “I don’t know, maybe. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“And if not?”
“Then we try again,” you say, smiling. “And again. As many times as it takes.”
His answering grin is devastating. “I love this plan. Best plan we’ve ever had.”
“Of course you love it,” you tease. “You’re getting sex on demand.”
“I’m getting to start a family with the love of my life,” he corrects, suddenly serious. “The sex is just a bonus. A really, really good bonus, but still.”
Your throat tightens with emotion. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kisses your forehead. “Now, twenty more minutes with your hips elevated, and then I’m running you a bath.”
“And then?”
“And then lunch. Hydration. Maybe a nap.” His smile turns wicked. “And then round whatever we’re on.”
“Again?!”
“Baby,” he says solemnly, “we’re not leaving this bed until tomorrow. I told you, I’m being thorough.”
You should protest. Should remind him you both have lives, responsibilities, that you can’t spend an entire day having sex no matter how appealing that sounds but then his hand starts tracing patterns on your belly again and he’s looking at you with such love and want and hope that all protests die in your throat.
“Thorough,” you agree weakly. “Right, very important.”
“The most important,” he confirms and as he settles beside you, already planning the rest of your day—which apparently consists entirely of various positions and strategic pillow placement—you think that maybe, just maybe, drunk you deserves some credit.
After all, she got the conversation started, even if her methods were…unconventional. Your husband certainly isn’t complaining and neither—despite your aching hips and the knowledge that you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow—are you.
The shower was supposed to be innocent, just washing off, getting clean, maybe some gentle aftercare. That lasted approximately three minutes before Seungcheol’s hands started wandering from “helpful” to “decidedly unhelpful.”
“Choi Seungcheol,” you warned but it came out breathless as his fingers traced your hip. “We’re supposed to be cleaning up.”
“We are cleaning up,” he murmured against your neck, pressing you forward until your palms hit the cool tile. “Very thoroughly.”
“That’s not—oh—”
His hand slid between your thighs from behind, finding you still sensitive, still wet with more than just water. “Still ready for me,” he observed, voice dropping an octave. “Even after all that.”
“It’s the hormones,” you managed, even as you arched back into his touch. “I told you, ovulation makes me—fuck—”
“Makes you what?” He was already lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “Insatiable? Desperate? Willing to let me fuck you against the shower wall?”
“All of the above,” you gasped as he pushed in, the slide easy despite how much you’d already taken him today.
This time was different, harder, more primal. The tile was cold against your breasts, your cheek, contrasting with the hot water and his body pressed against your back. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly, keeping you in place as he took you apart.
“This is what you do to me,” he growled in your ear. “Walking around, talking about my baby, being so fucking perfect—”
“Cheol, baby please—”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” His other hand found your clit, and you nearly sobbed. “Need me to breed you. Need me to pump you so full—”
You came with a sharp cry, clenching around him, and he followed immediately after, groaning against your shoulder as he held you pinned to the wall.
The water was starting to run cold by the time you both caught your breath.
You genuinely thought he’d be tired after the shower. Thought maybe you’d eat, cuddle, take that nap he’d mentioned.
You made it halfway through your sandwich.
“Come here,” Seungcheol said suddenly, pushing his chair back.
“I’m eating—”
“You can finish later.” There was something almost feral in his eyes as he stalked around the table toward you. “Right now, I need you bent over this table.”
“Choi Seungcheol—” but you were already standing, already letting him turn you around, already bracing your hands on the polished wood as he flipped up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on.
“No panties again,” he noted with approval. “It’s like you want me to fuck you at every opportunity.”
“Maybe I do,” you shot back, then gasped as he entered you in one smooth thrust.
The angle was perfect, the table the ideal height and he took full advantage of it. His fingers dug into your hips as he set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin obscenely loud in your quiet dining room.
“Look at you,” he panted, gathering your hair in one fist. “Taking it so well. So eager for it. Bet you’d let me fuck you anywhere right now, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, god, anywhere—”
“Kitchen counter? Bedroom floor? Against the windows where the neighbors might see?”
The thought shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but combined with his relentless pace, it pushes you over the edge. You came with a strangled moan, and he wasn’t far behind, but he didn’t give you time to recover. Just pulled out, ignored your whimper, and guided you to the couch.
“Hands on the back,” he instructed. “Ass up.”
You were shaking as you obeyed, gripping the back of the couch as he positioned himself behind you again. This angle was even deeper, and you could feel him in your belly with each thrust.
“Too much,” you whimpered, but you didn’t use your safeword, didn’t actually want him to stop.
“Not too much,” he countered, one hand sliding up your spine. “You can take it. You can take everything I give you.” And you did, you took it until you were crying with pleasure, until your legs gave out, until he had to hold you up as he finished inside you for the—you’d lost count at this point.
When he finally pulled out, your legs couldn’t support you. You collapsed onto the plush living room carpet, and he followed you down, immediately positioning you on your hands and knees.
“One more,” he said, voice rough. “Just one more, baby, and then we’ll rest.”
“Can’t—” you protested weakly, but your body was already responding, already arching for him.
“You can.” He slid in easily, and the stretch was almost too much on your oversensitized flesh. “You’re doing so well. Taking me so perfectly. Gonna make such a good mother.”
The praise broke something in you. You dropped to your elbows, pressing your face into the carpet as he took you with long, deep strokes. There was something almost desperate about it now, like he couldn’t get deep enough, close enough, like he was trying to merge you into one person.
“Love you,” he panted. “Love you so fucking much. Gonna give you everything. Everything you want. Everything you deserve.”
You were too far gone to respond with words, could only moan and take it and feel yourself building toward yet another impossible orgasm.
When it hit, it was almost painful in its intensity. You felt him swell inside you, felt the warmth as he came again, and then everything went soft and hazy.
You came back to yourself slowly, aware of gentle hands cleaning you with a warm cloth, of being lifted and carried, of soft sheets against your skin.
“Did I pass out?” you mumbled.
“Just for a minute.” Seungcheol sounded worried now, the feral intensity finally broken. “I’m sorry, I got carried away—”
“Don’t apologize.” You caught his hand, pressing it to your cheek. “That was…I didn’t know you had that in you.”
He laughed shakily. “Neither did I. I just—when you said you wanted a baby, something in my brain just…short-circuited.”
“Clearly.” You shifted, wincing at the soreness. “I’m going to be feeling this for a week.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised immediately. “Bath, massage, whatever you need. I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.” You pulled him down beside you. “I liked it. Loved it, actually. I just…didn’t expect the conversation about trying for a baby to turn my usually controlled husband into…that.”
“Into what?”
“Into someone who fucks me in every room of the house,” you say bluntly. “Who can’t go an hour without being inside me. Who looks at me like he wants to devour me.”
He flushed. “The ovulation thing wasn’t helping. Knowing you’re fertile right now, that any of these times could be the one—” he broke off, shaking his head. “It did something to me.”
“I noticed.” You traced his jaw. “For the record? I’m not complaining. I’m just surprised and very, very sore.”
“Nap now,” he decided. “Then massage. Then dinner. And then—”
“If you say ‘and then round whatever number we’re on,’ I’m divorcing you.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I was going to say ‘and then we’ll see how you feel.’”
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”
“But if you’re feeling up to it…” His hand slid to your belly again. “We should probably maximize our chances.”
You stared at him. “You’re actually insatiable.”
“Only with you.” He kissed your forehead. “Only ever with you.”
And despite the soreness, despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that you’d had more sex in one day than most couples have in a month, you found yourself smiling because this was your husband. Your partner. The father of your future children and if his method of “trying for a baby” involved fucking you in every room of the house until you couldn’t walk straight?
Well.
You’d had worse problems.
“Fine,” you conceded. “But after a nap and a massage, you’re carrying me everywhere for the next week.”
“Deal,” he agreed immediately, already pulling you closer.
Nothing came from that day of marathon sex but with how feral your husband had gotten that day you knew something had awakened in him that would be hard to reign in which is how you found yourself in your current position, bent over the balcony of your bedroom at the Airbnb that had been booked for his work trip to Hawaii which he insisted you come on. Something about a second honeymoon.
You should have known something was up when Seungcheol insisted you come on his work trip.
“It’s Hawaii,” he’d said, showing you the booking confirmation with an innocence that should have been your first warning. “We’ve never been. Plus, my meetings are only in the mornings. We’d have the afternoons and evenings together.”
“A second honeymoon,” he’d called it with that devastating smile.
What he’d failed to mention was that the “trying for a baby” conversation had apparently permanently rewired something in his brain.
You’d learned this over the past few weeks. The man who used to be controlled, measured, professional in every aspect of his life had developed a hair-trigger when it came to you. A lingering glance, your hand on his thigh at dinner, the way you bit your lip while concentrating—any of it could result in him finding the nearest private surface and bending you over it.
The office after hours? Check.
The car in the parking garage? Check.
The fitting room at the boutique where you’d been shopping for maternity clothes (optimistically)? Very much check.
But this—this was a new level, even for him.
“Cheol,” you hissed, gripping the balcony railing as he pressed against your back, his hands already pushing up your sundress. “We’re outside. Someone could see—”
“The nearest villa is hundreds of feet away,” he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. “No one can see unless they’re in a helicopter.”
“That’s not the point—”
“The point,” he interrupted, one hand sliding between your thighs to find you already wet—because of course you were—your body had learned to anticipate him now, “is that you’ve been walking around all day in this dress. This tiny, barely-there dress. Bending over to pick up seashells. Stretching in the sun. Driving me insane.”
“We were on the beach,” you protested weakly, even as you arched back into him. “What was I supposed to wear?”
“Nothing.” His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them aside. “Preferably nothing.”
You were about to respond when he pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, and all coherent thought fled. Your fingers tightened on the railing as he set a deep, rolling rhythm that had you biting your lip to keep quiet.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, one hand gripping your hip while the other slid up to cup your breast through the fabric. “Take it. Take all of me.”
The view from the balcony was stunning; turquoise water stretching to the horizon, white sand beaches, palm trees swaying in the breeze. The sun was setting, painting everything gold and pink. It should be romantic.
It was romantic. Just also obscene.
“God, you feel so good,” Seungcheol groaned, picking up his pace. “So perfect. Made for me. Made to take my cock. Made to carry my baby.”
There it was, the thing that set him off every time. The baby talk. Ever since that day, since you’d opened that door, he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like the idea of getting you pregnant had become an obsession.
“Cheol—” you gasped, trying to keep your voice down even as pleasure built in your core. “Someone might hear—”
“Let them hear.” His hand slid from your breast to your throat, tilting your head back. “Let them hear how good I make you feel. How well you take me. How desperate you are for my baby.”
“You’re insane,” you managed, but it came out more like a moan.
“You made me this way.” His lips brushed your ear. “Walking around, talking about wanting my babies, being so fucking perfect—you broke something in me, baby. Can’t think straight anymore. Can’t function unless I’m inside you.”
His hand left your throat to slide down your body, finding your clit with practiced ease. The dual sensation—him inside you, his fingers working you expertly—was too much.
“That’s it,” he encouraged as you started to tremble. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I fill you up. Maybe this time it’ll take. Maybe in nine months you’ll be here with my baby in your belly.”
The image he painted—you pregnant, round with his child—combined with his relentless pace pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry you couldn’t quite muffle, clenching around him and felt him follow seconds later with a groan. He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, the sound of waves crashing below mixing with your racing heartbeats.
“We need to talk about this,” you finally said, even as you melted back against his chest.
“About what?” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, still not pulling out.
“About this—” you gestured vaguely, “—thing that’s happened to you. This breeding kink you’ve developed.”
You felt him smile against your skin. “Is it a kink if we’re actively trying for a baby?”
“Cheol, we’ve had sex multiple times everyday in the last week. Everyday.”
“You’re counting?”
“Hard not to when I can barely walk straight.” You turned your head to look at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about the sex. The sex is incredible but you’ve been…intense. Ever since that conversation.”
His expression shifted, becoming more serious. He finally pulled out—you whimpered at the loss—and turned you around to face him, hands gentle on your waist.
“I know,” he admitted. “I’ve been…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like something clicked that day, and I can’t turn it off. Every time I look at you, I think about getting you pregnant. About you carrying our baby. About our family. And it just—” he broke off, looking almost embarrassed. “It does something to me. Makes me crazy.”
“I’ve noticed,” you said dryly.
“Is it too much?” There was genuine concern in his eyes now. “Am I being too much? Because if you need me to dial it back—”
“No,” you interrupted quickly. “I mean, yes, it’s a lot but it’s also…kind of hot? Knowing you want me that badly. That you’re that desperate to start our family.”
His eyes darkened. “You have no idea how badly I want you. How much I want this.”
“I’m getting a pretty clear picture,” you teased, feeling him already starting to harden against your thigh. “Case in point.”
He huffed a laugh. “Can you blame me? You’re standing here, freshly fucked, my cum dripping down your thighs, the sunset making you glow and you’re surprised I want you again?”
“We literally just finished—”
“And I’m already thinking about round two.” His hands slid down to cup your ass. “And three. And four. We have all night, baby. No work tomorrow. No interruptions. Just you and me and this view and a very comfortable bed inside.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.” He kissed you, deep and slow. “Now, shower, dinner and then I’m taking you apart in that massive bed. Sound good?”
It sounded perfect, actually. Even if your husband had apparently turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation. Especially because your husband had turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation.
“One condition,” you said as he started leading you inside.
“Anything.”
“When we get home, we’re making a doctor’s appointment. To make sure we’re doing everything right. That I’m healthy. All of it.”
His expression softened. “Of course. Whatever you need. I’ll set it up as soon as we’re back.”
“And maybe—” you bit your lip, “—maybe we dial it back just a little? Don’t get me wrong, I love the enthusiasm, but I’d like to still be able to walk when we get home.”
He grinned. “No promises but I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
As he pulled you inside to the shower, his hands already wandering again, you thought about how much had changed in just a few weeks. Your controlled, measured husband had been replaced by someone who couldn’t keep his hands off you. Who fucked you on balconies and whispered filthy promises about getting you pregnant. Who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
The test from last week had been negative. You’d both been disappointed but not surprised, these things took time but watching Seungcheol now, the way he touched you with reverence even as his eyes promised wickedness, you knew something had fundamentally shifted between you.
This wasn’t just about making a baby anymore. It was about the intensity of wanting something together. About the intimacy of trying. About how the goal had somehow made everything—every touch, every kiss, every time he was inside you—feel weighted with meaning and possibility.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, soaping your shoulders.
“About how that drunk conversation might have been the best terrible decision I ever made.”
He laughed. “Oh, it was definitely terrible. But yeah,” he pulled you close, “also the best.”
“Even though I asked if you’d love me as a worm?”
“Especially because you asked if I’d love you as a worm.” He kissed your forehead. “Now come on. We have dinner reservations in an hour and I plan on having you at least twice before then.”
“Twice?! Cheol, we just—”
But he was already lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and honestly? You weren’t complaining, not even a little bit.
Your insatiable, baby-crazy, utterly perfect husband. You wouldn’t change a thing.
You didn’t make it to dinner.
Well, not the reservation anyway. By the time Seungcheol had finished with you in the shower and then carried you to the bed still dripping wet, you were both too boneless and satisfied to even consider getting dressed and going out. Instead, he’d ordered take out—an absurd amount of food—and you’d eaten on the balcony wrapped in plush robes, watching the stars come out over the ocean.
“This is nice,” you murmured, stealing a bite of his dessert. “Romantic. Almost makes me forget you’ve turned into a caveman.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Caveman?”
“Mhm.” You grinned. “Me want baby. Me fuck wife constantly. Me carry wife everywhere because wife can’t walk—”
He silenced you with a kiss, tasting like chocolate and coconut. “I don’t hear you complaining when I’m making you come.”
“That’s because my brain stops working when you’re making me come.”
“Mission accomplished then.” His hand found yours on the table, fingers interlacing. “But seriously, are we okay? This isn’t too much?”
You squeezed his hand. “We’re more than okay. I promise. Yes, you’ve been insatiable. Yes, I’m going to need a week to recover when we get home. But Cheol,” you met his eyes, “I love seeing you like this. Passionate. Uninhibited. It’s like you’ve finally let yourself want something without overthinking it.”
“I want you,” he said simply. “I want our family and yeah, maybe I’ve gone a little crazy about it, but…” he shrugged, unapologetic, “I’m not sorry.”
“Good.” You stood, letting your robe slip off your shoulders. “Because I’m not done with you yet either.”
His eyes went dark, tracking the fall of fabric. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You moved to straddle his lap, the balmy night air warm on your skin. “We have four more days in paradise. Might as well make the most of them.”
“Four more days,” he repeated, hands spanning your waist. “Think we can set a record?”
“For what? Most times having sex in a single vacation?”
“I was thinking most creative locations, but that works too.” His thumbs traced circles on your hipbones. “There’s the beach at night. The private pool. That hammock near the—”
“You’ve been planning this.”
“Maybe.” He pulled you down for a kiss. “Can you blame me? My beautiful wife, a tropical paradise, and no responsibilities for four whole days? I’m going to worship you in every way possible.”
And he did.
You woke to his mouth between your thighs, the sunrise painting the room in shades of gold and pink. He brought you to orgasm twice before you were even fully awake and then pulled you into the shower where he took you against the tiles while water cascaded over you both.
Breakfast was served on the balcony, and you made it through most of your meal before he was pulling you onto his lap, pushing your sundress up, filling you while you clutched his shoulders and tried to keep quiet.
“Love you like this,” he murmured against your neck as you rode him slowly. “Sun-kissed, desperate and so fucking wet for me.”
“Always wet for you,” you gasped. “Can’t help it.”
“Good.” His hands guided your hips, helping you find the perfect angle. “Never want you any other way.”
Later, he kept his promise about the hammock. You’d been reading peacefully in the shade when he appeared with that look in his eyes and suddenly your book was forgotten as he stripped you down and arranged you across the swaying fabric.
“Cheol, this is going to tip—”
“I’ve got you,” he promised and he did, holding the hammock steady as he knelt between your legs and proved that his mouth was just as talented as the rest of him. By the time he finally entered you, you were already trembling, oversensitive, and the gentle sway of the hammock with each thrust was unlike anything you’d experienced.
“This is insane,” you laughed breathlessly.
“This is perfect,” he corrected and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in his universe—made your chest tight with emotion.
His morning meeting ran long and you’d gone down to the beach alone, content to swim and sunbathe and give your body a much-needed break. You should have known better. You were waist-deep in the crystal-clear water when you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
“Meeting over?” you asked, leaning back against his chest.
“Cancelled the rest.” His lips found that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. “Told them it was a family emergency.”
“Cheol! You can’t just—”
“Can’t just what? Choose my wife over a conference call about quarterly projections?” His hand slid down your stomach, disappearing beneath the water. “Pretty sure I can since y’know, I’m the boss.”
“Someone could see—”
“No one’s around.” And he was right—the beach was completely empty, the nearest people just tiny dots in the distance. “And you’re wearing this bikini. This tiny, barely-there bikini. What did you expect?”
“I expected to swim peacefully—oh—”
His fingers had found their target, working you expertly while his other arm banded around your waist, holding you against him.
“Can you be quiet?” he murmured. “Or are you going to let the whole beach know how good I make you feel?”
You bit your lip, trying desperately to stay silent as he worked you closer to the edge. The water lapped around you, warm and gentle and the contrast between the peaceful setting and what he was doing to you was almost too much.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Come for me, baby. Right here in the ocean where anyone could see how desperate you are for me.”
You came with a strangled gasp, your legs giving out and only his arm around your waist kept you upright.
“Good girl,” he praised, turning you around. “Now, think you can stay quiet while I fuck you?”
You couldn’t, as it turned out but the beach stayed empty, and Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind your breathless cries as he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he entered you in the warm, shallow water.
The private pool became his new favorite place. You’d lost count of how many times he’d taken you there; bent over the edge, pressed against the infinity wall overlooking the ocean, on the submerged lounger, against the smooth rocks of the artificial waterfall.
“We’re never leaving,” he declared as the sun set on your last full day. “I’m cancelling our flights. We live here now.”
“We have jobs,” you reminded him, though you were currently in his lap in the pool, still joined, neither of you in any hurry to move.
“We’ll work remotely. I’ll buy this villa. We’ll raise our kids here.”
“Kids, plural?”
“At least three.” His hands slid over your belly, possessive and tender. “Maybe four.”
“Let’s start with one,” you laughed. “See how we do.”
“We’ll do perfectly.” He kissed you slowly. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
“And you’re going to be an amazing father.” You cupped his face. “Even if you are a sex-crazed maniac right now.”
“Only for you,” he promised. “Only ever for you.”
You woke early, bodies tangled together, the sound of waves your only alarm. Seungcheol was already awake, watching you with that soft expression that still made your heart skip.
“Morning,” you murmured.
“Morning.” He brushed hair from your face. “Last day.”
“Don’t remind me.” You snuggled closer. “I’m not ready to go back to reality.”
“Me neither.” His hand found your belly again,it was becoming a habit. “But we’ll take this with us. This feeling. This certainty.”
“The certainty that you can’t keep your hands off me?”
“The certainty that we’re ready for this. For our family. For our future.” He shifted, rolling you beneath him. “And yeah, also the certainty that I’ll never get enough of you.”
The morning light filtered through the curtains as he made love to you slowly, tenderly, so different from the frantic desperation of the past few days. This was soft and sweet and full of promise.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “So much. More than I can say.”
“I love you too,” you breathed. “Even when you’re being insane.”
“Especially when I’m being insane,” he corrected with a grin and as you lay together afterward, wrapped in each other and the morning warmth, you thought about the past few weeks. The conversation that started it all. The shift in your relationship. The intensity and passion and sheer want of it all.
You still didn’t know if you were pregnant yet. Wouldn’t know for another week at least but somehow, it didn’t matter as much as you thought it would. Because you had this. Had him. Had the absolute certainty that whatever happened, you were in it together. Even if your husband had apparently developed a permanent breeding kink in the process. You could think of worse problems to have.
“Round two?” Seungcheol murmured hopefully against your neck.
You laughed. “We have to pack. And check out. And catch a flight.”
“So that’s a yes to a quickie before all that?”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
And because he was right—because you did love it, loved him, loved this new chapter you were writing together—you pulled him down for a kiss.
“Make it quick,” you warned. “We actually do need to pack.”
His answering grin was wicked. “Oh baby, I haven’t done anything quick with you since university.”
He was right about that too. You missed your flight but honestly?
Totally worth it.
The next few months go by in blur of your everyday life and the fact that you and your husband behaved like two virgins in a whorehouse at every given opportunity. He had somewhat simmered down, a work project keeping him busy and away from you for the past month.
You knew he was stressed so tonight you had planned to treat him, leaving work early to set up everything and it was well worth it when he comes through the door of your home calling out for you. He asks what smells so good before he stops when he takes in the way you’re dressed, in that cherry red dress he loves, and his mind starts wandering to important dates.
“Did I forget something?”
You turn from the stove, wooden spoon in hand and can’t help but smile at the panic already creeping into his expression. Seungcheol stands frozen in the doorway, briefcase still in hand, tie loosened, eyes frantically scanning you for clues.
“Did I forget—” he starts again, more urgently this time. “Is it our anniversary? Your birthday? Some other important—”
“Relax,” you interrupt, setting down the spoon and crossing to him. “You didn’t forget anything.”
“Then why are you wearing that dress?” His eyes drag over you, taking in the cherry red fabric that hugs every curve, the neckline that shows just enough to be distracting. “You only wear that dress for special occasions.”
“Maybe I just wanted to look nice for my husband,” you say innocently, reaching up to loosen his tie the rest of the way. “Is that a crime?”
His hands find your waist automatically, pulling you closer. “You’re up to something.”
“Maybe.” You stretch up to kiss him softly. “Or maybe I just missed you. You’ve been working so much lately.”
Something in his expression shifts, guilt mixing with exhaustion. “I know. This project has been insane. I’m sorry, baby. I’ve barely been home and when I am, I’m usually passed out or distracted—”
“Which is exactly why I wanted to do something nice tonight.” You smooth your hands over his chest. “So,no work talk. No stress. Just dinner, wine, and your wife who’s been very lonely without you.”
His eyes darken at that. “Lonely?”
“Mhmm.” You let your fingers trail down his abdomen. “Very lonely. Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve touched me?”
“Twenty-two days,” he says immediately and you blink in surprise.
“You’ve been counting?”
“Of course I’ve been counting.” His grip tightens on your waist. “You think I haven’t noticed? That I haven’t been dying every night, coming home to you already asleep, leaving before you wake up? I’ve been going insane.”
“Have you?” You press closer, feeling him already starting to respond. “Because you seemed pretty absorbed in your work.”
“The only reason I’ve been able to focus on work is because I’ve been channeling all my sexual frustration into spreadsheets and project timelines.” His forehead drops to yours. “I’ve missed you so much. Missed this. Missed touching you.”
“Well,” you slide your hands up to his shoulders, “dinner’s going to take another twenty minutes. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”
“Twenty minutes?” He’s already backing you toward the counter. “I can work with twenty minutes.”
“Cheol,” you laugh as he lifts you onto the granite, “we eat here.”
“We’ve done worse shit here.” He’s already pushing your dress up your thighs, and his eyes go even darker when he discovers what you’re not wearing. “No underwear. You really were planning this.”
“Maybe I was planning to torture you through dinner,” you tease. “Make you wait. Make you suffer.”
“Fuck that.” He drops to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the counter. “I’ve suffered enough. Now I’m collecting.”
Your protest dies as his mouth finds you and suddenly the simmering pots on the stove are the last thing on your mind.
Dinner is slightly overcooked by the time you both make it to the table—flushed, disheveled, and thoroughly satisfied. Seungcheol keeps apologizing for ruining your perfect meal but you just laugh and pour more wine.
“It’s fine,” you assure him, serving the pasta that’s only a little too soft. “This was kind of the plan anyway.”
“To seduce me before dinner?”
“To remind you that I still exist.” You raise your glass. “That we exist. Outside of work and stress and trying to conceive and everything else.”
His expression softens. “I know we exist. I always know that.”
“But you’ve been distant,” you say gently. “And I get it, this project has been huge, and you’re under a lot of pressure but Cheol…” you reach across the table for his hand, “I’ve missed my husband. Not just the sex, though yes, definitely that but you. Talking to you. Laughing with you. Just being with you.”
He squeezes your hand, looking guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—I thought I was handling it okay, but I guess I’ve been shutting you out.”
“A little bit,” you admit. “And I know it’s not intentional. You get focused on work and everything else fades but we can’t let that happen, especially not now when we’re trying to start a family.”
“You’re right.” He stands, moving his chair closer to yours so he can pull you against his side. “I’m sorry. Really. The project wraps up next week, and then I’m all yours. No more late nights. No more missing dinner. No more—”
“No more twenty-two day dry spells?” you supply with a grin.
“Especially no more dry spells.” His hand slides up your thigh. “In fact, I think I need to make up for lost time.”
“We haven’t even finished dinner.”
“We can reheat it.” He’s already pulling you into his lap. “Right now, I need to apologize properly to my wife for neglecting her.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
His smile turns wicked. “I have some ideas.”
You’re curled up on the couch together, plates pushed aside, wine glasses empty, and you’re finally feeling like you have your husband back.
“So,” Seungcheol says, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder; your dress didn’t survive the transition from dining room to living room, “I actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Hmm?” You’re pleasantly drowsy, content in a way you haven’t been in weeks.
“About the baby thing.”
That gets your attention. You sit up a little, looking at him. “What about it?”
He’s quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve been trying for almost three months now. And I know that’s not that long in the grand scheme of things, but…I don’t know. I guess I thought it would happen faster.”
Your chest tightens. You’ve been thinking the same thing but haven’t wanted to say it out loud. “Yeah. Me too.”
“And I was thinking—maybe we should make that doctor’s appointment. Like you said. Just to make sure everything’s okay. That we’re doing everything right.”
“Okay,” you agree softly. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“I’m not worried,” he adds quickly. “I mean, I am a little worried, but mostly I just want to be proactive. Make sure we’re giving ourselves the best chance.”
You cup his face, making him look at you. “Hey. Three months is nothing. The doctor will probably tell us to keep trying and come back in a year if nothing happens.”
“I know, but—” he breaks off, frustrated. “I just want this so badly. Want to give you this and every time another month goes by and the test is negative, I feel like I’m failing somehow.”
“You’re not failing,” you say firmly. “This isn’t something we can control. It happens when it happens.”
“I know that in my head. But in my heart,” his hand finds your belly, “I’m impatient.”
“I’ve noticed,” you tease gently. “The whole ‘acting like virgins in a whorehouse’ thing kind of gave it away.”
He huffs a laugh. “Was I that bad?”
“You were that eager,” you correct. “Which was actually pretty hot. Still is, when you’re not drowning in spreadsheets.”
“No more spreadsheets,” he promises. “Project’s almost done, and then I’m taking some time off. We’ll go somewhere. Relax. Maybe not having so much stress will help.”
“Maybe.” You kiss him softly. “But either way, we’re in this together, okay? Whether it happens next month or next year, we’ll figure it out.”
“Together,” he agrees, pulling you closer.
You settle back against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, and try to ignore the small kernel of worry that’s been growing with each negative test.
Three months isn’t that long but it feels longer when you want something so badly. When every month brings hope and then disappointment. When you see the look on your husband’s face each time that single line appears instead of two.
“Hey,” Seungcheol murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “No spiraling. We’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” you repeat.
And you are, you will be. Even if it takes longer than expected. Even if the road is harder than you hoped. You have him, and he has you, and that’s what matters.
Everything else will come in time, you just have to keep believing that.
Seungcheol had accompanied you to your usual checkup with your doctor and you’re currently waiting for your results to come back. When she enters with your files there’s a look on her face you can’t really read.
“Is there something wrong?” Seungcheol asks, his hand squeezing yours tighter.
“Well, that depends Mr. Choi,” she says before turning to you. “This happens quite often and I know it can be a shock, but I hope you both will make the decision that suits you best.”
The suspense is killing you and before you can ask what she means she says “Mrs. Choi, did you know that you’re three months pregnant?”
“Que?”
You must be hearing things. You took tests, hell you had a period two weeks ago. The room tilts slightly, and you’re glad you’re already sitting down.
“I’m—what?” Your voice comes out strangled, disbelieving. “That’s not—I can’t be. I’ve been having my period.”
Dr. Kim’s expression softens with understanding. “What you experienced was likely implantation bleeding and spotting, which can be mistaken for a light period. It’s more common than you’d think. Based on your blood work and the ultrasound we just did, you’re measuring at about twelve weeks.”
“Twelve weeks,” you repeat numbly. Your mind is racing, trying to do the math. Twelve weeks ago was…
“Hawaii,” Seungcheol breathes beside you, and when you look at him, his face has gone pale. “That was twelve weeks ago.”
Dr. Kim pulls up something on her computer screen, turning it so you can see and there it is. A tiny blob on the screen, barely distinguishable, but with a flickering white spot in the center.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Kim says gently, pointing. “Strong and healthy.”
Your own heart seems to stop entirely.
“But—” you’re struggling to process this, “—I’ve taken at least four pregnancy tests in the past two months. They were all negative.”
“How early were you testing?”
“I don’t know—a few days before my period? And then after what I thought was my period…”
“That’s likely why. Some women don’t produce enough HCG hormone early on for home tests to detect. It’s rare, but it happens.” Dr. Kim’s smile is warm, reassuring. “But your levels now are exactly where they should be for twelve weeks. You’re pregnant, Mrs. Choi. Congratulations.”
The word hangs in the air between you and Seungcheol.
Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You’ve been pregnant for three months and didn’t know.
“I—” your voice cracks, “—I’ve been drinking coffee. And I had wine at dinner last week. And I, oh god, I’ve been taking ibuprofen for my headaches—”
“Hey, hey,” Dr. Kim interrupts gently. “Let’s take a breath. Small amounts of caffeine are fine. One glass of wine before you knew won’t hurt anything. And occasional ibuprofen, while not ideal, isn’t going to cause problems at this stage. Your baby looks perfectly healthy.”
Your baby.
“I can’t—” you turn to Seungcheol, and the expression on his face nearly breaks you. He looks stunned, overwhelmed, and like he might cry at any moment. “Cheol—”
“We’re having a baby,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “We’re actually…holy shit, we’re having a baby.” And then he is crying, tears streaming down his face as he pulls you into a tight embrace.
“You said there was a decision to make?” Seungcheol asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at Dr. Kim with concern. “Is something wrong? You said—”
“Oh, no—I’m sorry, I worded that poorly.” Dr. Kim looks apologetic. “I just meant that unexpected pregnancies can be a shock, and I wanted to make sure you knew you had options. But if this is welcome news—”
“It’s welcome,” you say immediately, even as your hands are shaking. “Very welcome. We’ve been trying. We just—we didn’t know it had already worked.”
“Well then—truly, congratulations.” Dr. Kim starts printing out information. “I’m going to refer you to an OB for your ongoing care. You’ll want to schedule your first official prenatal appointment within the next week or two. I’m printing out the ultrasound photo for you, and some information about what to expect in your first trimester—though you’re already almost through it.”
Almost through the first trimester. You’re almost through the first trimester and you had no idea.
“Can you—” your voice is shaky, “—can you print two copies of the ultrasound? Please?”
“Of course.” Dr. Kim smiles knowingly. “Most parents want several.”
Parents. You’re going to be parents. The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Dr. Kim goes over nutrition, what to expect, warning signs to watch for, answering questions that Seungcheol asks because you seem to have lost the ability to form coherent sentences.
By the time you make it back to the car, you’re both silent, clutching the ultrasound photos like lifelines. Seungcheol doesn’t start the car. Just sits there, staring at the grainy black and white image in his hands.
“We made this,” he finally says, voice thick. “In Hawaii. In that villa with the ocean view. We made our baby.”
“All those times,” you whisper, then laugh slightly hysterically. “All those months we kept trying, and it had already happened. We were already pregnant during—oh my god, we were pregnant when you bent me over the dining room table last month—”
“And in the shower last week,” he adds, then starts laughing too, slightly wild. “And on the counter. And—Jesus, we’ve been having incredibly athletic sex while pregnant.”
“Dr. Kim said it’s fine—”
“I know, I just—” he runs a hand through his hair, “—I can’t believe we didn’t know. How did we not know?”
“I don’t know.” You’re staring at your own copy of the ultrasound, at that tiny blob that’s apparently your baby. Your baby who’s been growing inside you for weeks while you had no idea. “I feel like I should have known. Like my body should have told me somehow.”
“Hey.” Seungcheol reaches over, taking your hand. “This is okay, right? This is—we wanted this.”
“We wanted this,” you confirm, squeezing back. “I’m just…I’m in shock. Are you in shock?”
“Completely.” He brings your hand to his lips. “But also, baby, we’re having a baby. We’re actually having a baby.”
The reality of it starts to sink in, and suddenly you’re crying too. Happy tears, overwhelmed tears, scared tears, all mixed together.
“We’re having a baby,” you repeat, and it feels more real each time you say it. “In—oh god, when? When am I due?”
Seungcheol scrambles for the paperwork Dr. Kim gave you. “It says…June. June tenth. Holy shit, that’s only six months away.”
“Six months.” You press a hand to your stomach, which still looks completely normal. “There’s a baby in there. Right now. With a heartbeat.”
“The fastest heartbeat in the world,” Seungcheol says, smiling through his tears. “Did you hear how fast it was going? Like they’re already excited to meet us.”
“They.” The pronoun makes it more real somehow. “We’re going to have a tiny human. Who depends on us for everything. Who we’re responsible for.”
“Are you freaking out?” he asks gently.
“Little bit. You?”
“Completely.” But he’s smiling, radiant, more happy than you’ve ever seen him. “But also,I’ve never been more excited about anything in my life.” You lean over the center console to kiss him, tasting salt from both your tears and his.
“We’re going to be parents,” you whisper against his lips.
“Best parents ever,” he promises. “This kid is going to be so loved.”
“So spoiled.”
“That too.” He pulls back just enough to cup your face. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For giving me this. For—” his voice breaks, “—for making me a father.”
“Cheol—” now you’re really crying, “—you did half the work.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one growing them. Carrying them. Creating an entire human being inside you.” His hand moves to your stomach, reverent. “You’re incredible.”
“Ask me again in four months when I’m huge and miserable and demanding pickles at 3 AM.”
“Still incredible.” He kisses you again. “Now, we need to celebrate. And tell people. And—oh god, my mom is going to lose her mind. Your mom is going to cry. Jeonghan is going to make fun of me for crying earlier—”
“We don’t have to tell anyone right away,” you interrupt. “I’m only twelve weeks. A lot can still—” you can’t finish the sentence, but he understands.
“You’re right. We’ll wait. Just, maybe a little longer? Until we’re into the second trimester?”
“Which is only a few more weeks now,” you realize. “We’re already almost there.”
“We’re already almost there,” he repeats wonderingly. Then, more firmly, “Okay, new plan. We go home. We process this. We maybe have a minor freak out and then we start planning.”
“Planning what?”
“Everything.” His smile is infectious. “Nursery. Names. Parenting books. Baby-proofing. Everything we need to do in the next six months to get ready for this tiny human who’s apparently already been along for the ride.”
You look down at the ultrasound again, at that flickering heartbeat frozen in time. Your baby. Made in paradise, growing in secret, already loved beyond measure.
“Let’s go home,” you say softly.
Seungcheol finally starts the car, but before he pulls out, he looks at you one more time.
“I love you,” he says. “You and our little blob.”
“I love you too.” You press your hand over his on your stomach. “All three of us.” And as he drives home, both of you stealing glances at the ultrasound photos, you think about how everything has changed in the span of one appointment.
All those months of trying.
All that hoping and waiting and disappointment and it had already worked.
Your baby had been there all along, growing quietly, waiting to surprise you. Just like everything else with Seungcheol—unexpected, intense, and absolutely perfect.
Even if you had been doing very athletic things while pregnant without knowing it.
You’d probably need to apologize to your baby for that eventually but for now, you just hold the ultrasound close and let yourself feel it.
Pure, overwhelming joy.
You’re going to be a mom and Seungcheol is going to be a dad. In six months, your family of two is going to become three.
Best surprise ever.
You both still haven’t told anyone and it’s been two months since you found out. Your body hasn’t changed much but your need for your husband has which has made Seungcheol work from home twice now and this morning is no different when he wakes up with your mouth on him.
Seungcheol wakes slowly, consciousness returning in gradual waves. There’s warmth, wetness, and a familiar pressure that has him groaning before he’s even fully awake.
“Fuck, baby—” His hand instinctively goes to your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. You’re under the covers, between his legs and the sight when he lifts the duvet nearly finishes him right there—your eyes meeting his as you take him deeper.
“What are you—oh god—what time is it?”
You pull off with an obscene pop, your hand replacing your mouth as you stroke him slowly. “About six thirty. You have a meeting at nine.”
“Then why are you—” his words cut off as you lick a stripe up his length, “—trying to kill me?”
“Because,” you pause to take him in your mouth again, working him in that way that makes his brain short-circuit, before pulling back, “ I need you…again.”
“Again?” His laugh is strained. “Baby, love we went three rounds last night. How are you—”
“Pregnant,” you finish, crawling up his body. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else and when you straddle him, he can feel how wet you already are. “I’m pregnant and my hormones are insane and I can’t stop thinking about you inside me.”
“Not complaining,” he manages, hands gripping your hips as you position yourself above him. “Just concerned about your poor—Jesus—”
You sink down on him in one smooth motion and his concern evaporates. You’re so wet, so ready, that he slides in effortlessly despite no preparation.
“Fuck, you feel good,” you moan, starting to move. “So good. Why do you always feel so good?”
Seungcheol can’t answer because his brain has officially stopped working. You’re riding him in the early morning light, his t-shirt riding up to reveal the slight swell of your stomach, barely visible but there. Evidence of your baby growing inside you.
His baby. The thought still makes him feral.
“That’s it,” he encourages, helping you find your rhythm. “Take what you need. Use me.”
And you do, you ride him with an urgency that’s become familiar over the past two months. Dr. Kim had warned you that increased libido was common in the second trimester, but this was beyond anything either of you expected. Not that Seungcheol is complaining.
“Cheol,” you’re already close, he can tell by the way you’re clenching around him, “touch me, please.”
His thumb finds your clit, circling with practiced pressure and you come apart with a cry that could wake the neighbors. He follows seconds later, pulling you down onto him as he empties inside you. You collapse on his chest, both of you breathing hard.
“I’m calling in sick,” he announces.
“You can’t. You have that important meeting—”
“Then you’re coming to the home office with me,” he decides, rolling you both over so he’s hovering above you. “Because if the past two months have taught me anything, it’s that you’re going to need me again in approximately—” he checks his watch, “—two hours and I’d rather be here than trying to take a ‘lunch break’ or hoping my camera stays off.”
You laugh, remembering last week when he’d had to abruptly mute himself because you’d walked into his office wearing nothing but a smile.
“That was your fault for working from home in grey sweatpants,” you point out.
“Everything is apparently my fault now.” But he’s smiling as he says it, pressing kisses down your neck. “You needed water at 3 AM? My fault for getting you pregnant. Your jeans don’t fit? My fault. You cried at that commercial with the puppy? Definitely my fault.”
“It was a very sad commercial,” you defend, even as you’re arching into his kisses. “And yes, this is literally all your fault. You and your—” you gesture vaguely at him, “—your everything.”
“My everything?” He’s laughing now, working his way down your body.
“Your face. Your body. Your—Cheol, what are you doing?”
“Well—” he settles between your thighs, “—if I’m working from home anyway, might as well make sure you’re thoroughly satisfied before my first meeting.”
“You just…we literally just—”
“And you’re going to need me again soon anyway,” he points out reasonably. “Might as well get ahead of it.” His mouth finds you and your protests dissolve into moans.
Seungcheol is forty-five minutes into his video call when you appear in the doorway of his office. He sees you in his peripheral vision and tries to focus on the presentation his colleague is giving but you’re wearing that look. That needy, desperate, “I need you right now” look.
He mutes himself and mouths, After this meeting.
You pout. Actually pout. Then you do something that nearly makes him fall out of his chair; you pull up your dress to show him your stomach, running your hand over the small bump. It’s not fair. It’s biological warfare. You know exactly what seeing you like that does to him.
He unmutes. “Actually, I need to step away for a moment. Personal emergency. Give me ten minutes?”
His colleagues agree—they know he’s been working from home more lately—and he kills his camera and mic before you’ve even crossed the room.
“Ten minutes,” he warns as you climb into his lap. “That’s all we have.”
“Then you better make it count,” you challenge, already undoing his belt.
He does.
“We need to tell people,” Seungcheol says over lunch. You’re both in the kitchen, you’re eating pickles and bacon cream cheese spread—a combination that horrifies him but apparently makes perfect sense to your pregnant brain—and he’s trying not to watch in fascinated disgust.
“I know,” you agree around a mouthful of your horrible creation. “We said we’d wait until after the first trimester, and we’re at—what? Fifteen weeks now?”
“Sixteen tomorrow,” he corrects. He’s been tracking it religiously, has an app on his phone that tells him how big the baby is each week. Currently, the size of an avocado.
“Sixteen weeks,” you repeat. “And I’m starting to show. Like, actually show. I can’t hide it in loose clothes forever.”
“You look beautiful,” he says immediately.
“I look pregnant.”
“Beautiful and pregnant.” He comes around the island to wrap his arms around you from behind, his hands spanning your small bump. “Best combination ever.”
You lean back into him. “Your mom is going to cry.”
“My mom is going to plan the entire baby’s life before they’re even born,” he corrects. “Your mom is going to cry.”
“Both our moms are going to lose their minds,” you decide. “And then they’re going to become best friends over baby shopping.”
“Jeonghan is going to make fun of me.”
“Hannie’s going to be the uncle who teaches our kid bad habits.”
Seungcheol groans. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe we don’t tell anyone. Just let them figure it out when you go into labor.”
“Cheol.”
“Fine.” He kisses your temple. “This weekend? We’ll have both families over. Tell them together?”
“Together,” you agree. Then, after a pause, “Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” he admits. “But also, this is real now. We’re really doing this. In four and a half months, we’re going to have a baby. Our baby and I want to share that with people. Want everyone to know how happy I am.”
You turn in his arms, looking up at him. “Even though I keep attacking you at inappropriate times?”
“Especially because you keep attacking me at inappropriate times.” He grins. “Though maybe we should warn the doctor at your next appointment. Make sure this is…you know. Normal.”
“I already asked,” you admit, blushing. “Last appointment while you were filling out paperwork. She said it’s completely normal and actually healthy.”
“Healthy,” he repeats, smirking. “So really, we’re just being responsible parents-to-be.”
“Exactly, very responsible.”
“Speaking of responsible—” his hands slide down to cup your ass, “—I think I have another meeting in an hour. Which means we have time—”
“On the counter?” you ask hopefully.
“Wherever you want,” he promises, already lifting you.
The pickles and cream cheese are forgotten as he makes good on his promise and later—much later—when he’s finally back at his computer for his afternoon meetings, you curl up on the couch in his office with a blanket and one of your pregnancy books.
This has become your routine over the past two months. Him working, you nearby and periodic breaks for the insatiable need that’s apparently a hallmark of your second trimester. It’s chaotic and wonderful and occasionally makes him miss important conference calls but he wouldn’t change a thing.
This is his life now. His pregnant wife who can’t keep her hands off him. His baby growing bigger every day. His future taking shape in ways he couldn’t have imagined a year ago. All because of one drunk conversation about worms and ovulation and wanting his babies.
Best conversation ever. Even if it did result in him having to work from home regularly because his wife has turned into an insatiable pregnant goddess. He glances over at you, at the small bump visible even under the blanket and feels that now-familiar surge of overwhelming love.
Four and a half months until they meet their baby but first, telling their families this weekend and surviving whatever chaos that brings.
what do you do when you have just been cheated on? | kim taehyung
♡ word count: 17k (yes it may be less than 20k but this! it’s intense!)
♡ genre: hard smut& fluff!! & crack & some angry angst towards the end (…also very protected sex! stay safe friends!) taehyung is a sweetheart inside a fuckboy’s body and y/n is quite immature for getting back on her cheating boyfriend with taehyung but,,,,girl gotta do what she gotta do!
- kae’s little ‘moral of the story’ tip: just don’t cheat on your s/o. unless it’s kim taehyung. /j
♡ summary/snippet: what do you do when you have found out that your long-term boyfriend has been cheating on you? well, contacting his (may i mention, very, very hot) best friend tae is definitely an option.
♡ kae chit chats: happy taetae day! i was actually on the way of posting another lengthy fic that i had started writing a month or two ago but i think that might not be the best option because i have sadly not edited that fic to the point where i think it is suitable to be posted…so here we are with this fic! i don’t know where my inspiration for this fic came from because no i have literally no experience in almost any of the events that have happened here (except for eating ramen probably) but the thought of it popped right in when i opened a new doc so here we are..! enjoy this very much and i hope you guys are weirdly satisfied with this ending because this fic was definitely a rollercoaster in my opinion…lastly, so much love for my supporters (you guys hee hee) and happy birthday to the best boy in the world, taehyung. - kae
do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!
kae’s recommendation of songs to listen to when you are reading!! (psst, i have immaculate taste btw.)
PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU ENTER- (trigger warnings: mentions of cheating and emotional manipulative side character with a hint of moral coercion, semi-violence towards the end & stalking behavior, very intense conversations, and mentions of one small injury and alcohol use but a happy ending !)
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
what do you do when your boyfriend just cheated on you?
when you found out that your boyfriend cheated on you that day, you decided to contact your boyfriend’s best friend.
It taps gently against the window, a quiet rhythm that fills the room while you sit curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket you've claimed as your own. The world outside looks blurred, gray skies, slick pavement, people rushing with umbrellas like they're trying to outrun something.
You sigh, tucking your chin into the fabric.
Perfect weather to stay inside.
Perfect weather to not deal with anything.
"Y/n."
You don't even look up. "No."
A beat.
Then, dramatically, "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I do," you mumble, eyes still fixed on the rain. "And the answer is still no."
There's the sound of shuffling, then footsteps light, quick, familiar. The couch dips beside you, and suddenly there's a face far too close to yours, eyes bright with something that should probably concern you.
"Come outside with me."
You finally turn your head, unimpressed. "Absolutely not."
"Why?" he asks, already halfway to pouting.
You gesture vaguely toward the window. "It's raining."
"And?"
"And I don't want to get wet."
He gasps like you've personally offended him. "Y/n, that is the point."
You stare at him.
He stares back, completely serious.
"...No."
He leans closer, lowering his voice like he's about to share something important. "You're missing it."
"Missing what?"
His lips curl into a soft, almost secret smile. "This."
Before you can question him, he's already grabbing your wrist.
"Taehyung—"
Too late.
⸻
The door swings open, and the sound of rain rushes in louder now, heavier. The air is cool, fresh, wrapping around you instantly as you step outside, shoes hitting damp pavement.
"Kim Taehyung!" you protest, trying to pull your hand back. "I am not—"
He doesn't let go.
Of course he doesn't.
Instead, he turns to face you, already soaked at the edges dark hair beginning to cling to his forehead, drops of water tracing down his cheeks. And yet, he's smiling like this is the best thing that's happened all day.
"Relax," he says, softer now. "It's just rain."
"It's cold," you argue, shivering slightly as another drop hits your neck.
He tilts his head, studying you for a moment really looking at you. Then, without warning, he steps closer.
"Trust me?"
You hesitate.
Because it's him.
Because it's always been him.
"...I don't like where this is going."
He grins.
And then he spins you.
A startled laugh breaks out of you as the world tilts..his hand steady in yours, pulling you into a slow circle. The rain falls harder now, soaking through your clothes, your hair, everything but somehow it doesn't feel as miserable as you thought it would.
"Taehyung !" you laugh, trying to steady yourself.
"See?" he says, voice light, almost triumphant. "Not so bad."
You shake your head, breathless. "You're insane."
"Probably," he agrees easily.
But he doesn't stop.
He spins you again faster this time and your laughter comes easier, louder, mixing with his. It echoes in the open air, blending with the sound of rain hitting the ground, the rooftops, everything.
For a moment, it feels like the world shrinks.
No expectations.
No pressure.
No noise beyond this.
Just you.
Just him.
Just this.
He slows eventually, hands still holding yours as you come to a stop, a little unsteady, a little dizzy. Your hair is a mess, your clothes cling uncomfortably, and you're definitely going to regret this later—
but you're smiling.
And he's looking at you like he knew you would be.
"Better?" he asks quietly.
You try to roll your eyes, but it doesn't land the way it usually does. "A little."
"A little?" he repeats, mock-offended.
"Okay..fine," you admit, softer now. "Maybe more than a little."
He beams.
There's a pause.
The rain doesn't let up, falling steadily around you, but neither of you move to go back inside.
Instead, he steps closer again. Closer than before.
Close enough that you notice the way his smile softens, the way his eyes linger just a second longer than they should.
Close enough that your breath catches just slightly.
"You should smile like that more," he says.
Your heart stumbles. "Like what?"
"Like you're not thinking about everything else."
You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is. "And what makes you think I can just... turn that off?"
His thumb brushes lightly against your hand, still holding onto yours like he forgot to let go.
"You don't have to," he murmurs. "Not all the time."
The world feels quieter.
Or maybe it's just you.
"Just sometimes," he adds, almost like a promise, "I'll remind you."
Your chest tightens, but not in a bad way.
Not in the way it usually does.
"...By dragging me into the rain?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
He laughs softly. "Exactly."
You shake your head, but you don't pull away.
"Unbelievable."
"Admit it," he nudges. "You're glad I did."
You hesitate.
Then, quietly—
"...I am."
His smile returns, softer now. Warmer.
And for a moment, standing there in the rain with his hand still in yours, it really does feel like nothing else matters.
Not the things waiting for you tomorrow.
Not the worries you carried just minutes ago.
Just this.
Just him.
Just the way he looks at you like you're something worth pulling into the rain for.
"Next time," you say after a while, "we're staying inside."
OVA for the Pathetic series because I love you guys soooo much.
Summary:
You and Jeonghan decide to move in together. But the problem with all of that is actually finding a place to move in together.
Warnings: Dubcon as per usual with this series, jealous!yn for once, slightly clueless jeonghan, rough sex, degradation, humiliation kink, slightly public sex, creampie because lowkey between us I think Jeonghan is trying to lock y/n down for real for real, no aftercare but eh, other things? probably
-
Happy late two year anniversary to the release of Pathetic and my descent to hell for bringing this series to life. I wanted to write a very fun nonsensical random “beach-episode” but the fleeting thought of writing a part where y/n and jeonghan move in together led me to relasing a poll to sneakily figuring out what y’all would prefer and after my preferred idea got completely crushed in the poll you all LOST YOUR CHANCE AT PUBLIC BEACH SEX OKAY? Y/n and Jeonghan could have gotten sand everywhere and had sex on the beach behind a rock or something but you all lost that chance OKAY *distant sobbing*
-
It was stupid to be jealous.
So, so, so stupid to be jealous.
“As you can see, there are really nice porches in this series of units,” the property manager said, her voice airy. Her fingers dragged across Jeonghan’s skin, drawing his attention away from the closet that he had been peaking at.
She slid open the glass door to the porch that she had been talking about and then took a step onto it.
“I mean, this obviously won’t be your view, but the porch is a nice size.”
Jeonghan took a step out onto the porch with her, and you resisted the urge to scream in the closet that Jeonghan had just been looking at.
“I don’t really know how much we’d use a porch…” Jeonghan mumbled. He looked out at the other apartments, seeming to skim over the view. The lady next to him had all of her attention on him, and once again she was using his concentration on the actual tour she was supposed to be leading as a way to get closer to him.
The problem with Jeonghan was that when you two started and he was obsessed with figuring out if you liked him and also making you like him, he was always keenly aware of the way that his interactions with other people made you feel.
He was able to tell when you were jealous and usually, he was keenly aware of why you would be so. But ever since you two got together and he stopped caring about flirting with other people, he seemed to forget that people still wanted to flirt with him.
And that when it came down to it: You were just a person, who hated when people flirted with your stupidly attractive boyfriend.
“What do you think y/n?” Jeonghan asked, turning his attention to you and ripping you back into the present. You forced a smile on your face, but Jeonghan seemed to notice that something was wrong with you.
“It would be cool to have a porch,” you said, as Jeonghan stepped back into the apartment. Worry was spread over his face, but you waved off his concern. That, of course, didn’t stop him from coming to your side, his hand finding itself to the small of your back.
“Yeah, but for this price point…” Jeonghan mumbled. The property manager stepped back inside the apartment, sliding the door closed. She seemed a bit disgruntled by his quick escape.
“This apartment is completely worth the price,” she insisted. She looked between you and Jeonghan, an annoyed expression on her face. “I mean, it’s perfect for a bachelor like you.”
Your nails pressed harder into the palm of your hand.
“Well, the porch would be good if we wanted to try at more public sex,” you stated bluntly. “And there’s a lot of different places where you could fuck me here. The countertops in the kitchen would be good for it.”
Both the relator and Jeonghan were silent at your comment, which would have been completely humiliating if it weren’t for the way that Jeonghan’s fingers stretched across your back.
At least he was amused.
“It’s a shame we aren’t alone,” he commented after a few moments. “I would love to break the place in.”
You were a bit petty… You looked up to see the look on the realtors’ face, only to find that her face was beet red. A smile flitted over your lips.
The apartment was a nice apartment, but all the apartments that you had been to were nice. They all had their pros, and their cons. Workout rooms, large bathrooms, spacious closets, in-unit laundry.
You groaned once you and Jeonghan were back in the Alpha Mu house, burying your face into his back.
“I hate this,” you mumbled softly. “I don’t want to move.”
Jeonghan hummed, raising his free hand to your head. He began to card his fingers soothingly through your hair, but his other hand was focused on playing a game of crossy roads.
“It’s all this effort to pack up boxes, just to unpack the boxes and it’s just too much work,” you complained lightly. Jeonghan hummed.
“It is a lot of work for nothing,” he agreed. “I mean, why move in anyways? We should just live in our various places and overpay for rent forever instead of just living together.”
A frown crossed your lips, and you looked over at Jeonghan. He looked up from his game.
“I mean we can just spend alternating weekends at each other’s places,” Jeonghan continued. “You like being kept up by Alpha Mu parties, right? You enjoy spending every weekend jealous because of all the drunk party goers flirting with me?”
“I don’t spend every weekend jealous,” you mumbled. “That’s such a stupid thing to say.”
Jeonghan hummed and turned his attention back to his game, his fingers continuing to brush through your hair.
“Then you’re better than me,” Jeonghan mumbled. “I’m tired of Mingyu dazzling you with breakfasts, and Jun asking you for relationship advice. We need our own space.”
You shifted your body so that your legs were crossed in front of you, and you were looking at Jeonghan face to face. He looked up at you, once again risking his game score for your attention.
“I’m just tired of browsing,” you mumbled.
“Our relator just wants to show us one more place,” Jeonghan said, his hand sliding down your face to cup your chin. “One more apartment tour. One more apartment complex.”
“And that’s another thing,” you complained. “Why is one person showing us multiple apartments? That’s not normal.”
“It’s because all of the places we have looked at have been under one management company,” Jeonghan replied calmly. “You don’t like Dana?”
Again. It sucked to have a boyfriend who was now blind to the flirting of others.
“She’s a bit touchy,” you grumbled. Amusement flickered across Jeonghan’s face, and his head fell to the side.
“Someone is sounding toxic,” he teased lightly.
“Me?!” You protested, slapping Jeonghan’s hand away. “You were just saying-”
Jeonghan interrupted you by pressing forward, his thumb raising back to your chin to pull you into a soft, but brief kiss. You sighed.
“You can’t-”
He interrupted you again with another kiss, a very clear smile on his face. He pulled away again- Too early for the kiss to be completely appreciated. You forced yourself to focus and pull away from Jeonghan, but he kept a hold of your chin.
“It’s just one more apartment,” he assured. “And it has everything that we have been looking for. In-unit washer and dryer, a complimentary gym that’s really close to our unit, it has an extra room for an office, a porch…”
As Jeonghan spoke his voice was soothing, and he pressed small kisses across your chin.
“A porch for me to fuck you on,” Jeonghan teased. “Even though I’m starting to suspect you just said that for attention.”
You let out a small sigh, your head rolling back, allowing Jeonghan to place kisses down your neck. He lightly nipped at the skin just above your collarbone.
“You know if you want to just grab me and kiss me passionately whenever you are in front of someone that is flirting with me, you are completely free to do so,” he continued, completely ruining your mood. You pressed Jeonghan back by his forehead.
“I have to go study with Yeongtae,” you stated bluntly. Jeonghan groaned, dramatically falling back as if you had pushed him that hard.
“You’re going to abandon your poor boyfriend-”
“Yes,” you interrupted him with a roll of your eyes. You began to get to your feet, but before you could go far Jeonghan had your wrist. He gave you a small tug and you stumbled down to your hands and knees, conveniently catching yourself on top of him.
Jeonghan seemed to be ignorant of how lucky he had been that his trap had worked so well. Your hair fell around your face, and Jeonghan reached up to tug lightly at one of your strands.
“See we won’t have to worry about this once we move in together,” he said. His hand snaked around your body, and he grabbed your hips. “Because if it were our apartment, I certainly wouldn’t be letting you go without reminding you whose you are.”
Your face burned bright red.
“You know I know whose I am.”
The tips of Jeonghan’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants.
“I reserve the right to remind you anyways,” he said lightly. He pinched you and you obediently dipped your head, letting him pull you into a deep kiss. His fingers raised to your hair, pressing down on the back of your head so that you were completely locked in.
You let him lead the kiss for about thirty seconds before lightly tapping his cheek. He broke the contact.
“Have fun studying,” he said lightly, his grip on you loosening enough for you to pull away.
“I’ll try,” you said.
-
“So… How’s the apartment hunting going?” Yeongtae asked as you distractingly tapped your pencil against the table you too had set up at. You looked up at him, a frown spread across your face.
“I’m trying to focus,” you complained.
“You’re tapping the Friends theme song,” Yeongtae replied. You sighed, setting your pencil down.
“I’m a bit anxious about it,” you admitted softly. Yeongtae closed the textbook that he had been pretending to read.
“What about it?” He asked you, matching your tone of voice.
“Well…” You let your head fall to the side. “I’ve never lived with someone I was dating before.”
“Cause you’ve barely dated anyone,” Yeongtae agreed. “That makes sense.”
You ignored the comment.
“I mean, is it going to be weird? We aren’t going to have as much time away from each other. What if he realizes he doesn’t like something about me? Like, Jeonghan is really clean. What if I’m too messy for him?”
Voicing them out loud your concerns felt less detrimental.
“You’re worried about being too… Messy?” Yeongtae asked. You bit down on the bottom of your lip.
“The lease is a yearlong lease,” you said instead, trying to insinuate what you didn’t want to say. “That’s at least a yearlong commitment.”
Yeongtae just stared at you.
“Jeonghan hasn’t ever been in a relationship for that long, and if we were to…” You didn’t want to say it. “I mean would he just go back to his old ways?”
You could imagine it now. One of you moving into the office he was so insistent you two have, and having to sit in your room, earbuds in your ears, doing your best to drown out the sounds of whoever would replace you.
“Y/n, you’re so stupid,” Yeongtae murmured. “You know full well that Jeonghan is absolutely obsessed with you.”
You narrowed your gaze and tapped the table in irritation.
“Obsession doesn’t last forever Yeongtae,” you replied. “In fact, I would argue that obsession is much more fleeting than other emotions.”
“Fleeting?” Yeongtae repeated in disbelief. “Didn’t he tell you he’s been in love with you since he saw you at freshmen orientation?”
You sighed your response and Yeongtae gave you an apologetic expression.
“I hate to say it, but your issues have transcended past genuine concerns because your situationship is lying about sleeping with other people and has transformed into just another issue,” Yeongtae stated. “Everyone in relationships have these worries. Moving in with someone you haven’t even officially been with for a year can be a gamble. But… I mean this is Jeonghan we are talking about.”
Right, of course. This was Jeonghan you two were talking about. As much as you hated to admit it. Jeonghan was the same person who had pinned over you from afar for years. As impatient as he was- If you told him your reservations seriously Jeonghan would definitely agree to postpone your move-in until you were more comfortable.
This was just undeniably more convenient than the latter.
With Jeongyeon moving in soon with Jimin, and Yeongtae still living on campus for some reason, your choices in roommates were slim. And Jeonghan was tired of living at Alpha Mu. The frat house was after all a frat house. He was getting too old to stay there, and he was practically itching for a reason to move out.
You sighed, letting your head roll to the side a bit. You were just overthinking for overthinking’s sake, and you knew that was true.
“I’m getting tired of you calling me stupid all the time,” you mumbled.
“I’ll stop calling you stupid when you stop being stupid,” Yeongtae replied pointedly. You crumbled up a piece of paper and tossed it at Yeongtae’s head.
“Focus on your work.”
-
“Great! You’re going to really love this unit,” Dana said excitedly. She clapped her hands together and then bounced up to her toes, tapping Jeonghan lightly on the face. His eyes flashed at the sudden touch, and he recoiled a bit. She completely ignored his surprise.
“I’ll just…” She turned away from Jeonghan, her tongue clicking lightly. “Oh… I left the papers at the office.” Her eyes flitted back up to Jeonghan, her eyes wide.
You rolled your eyes at the little helpless look on her face.
“If you two wait it’ll only take me like… Twenty minutes to get the papers and come back,” she said. You looked up in time to see her fingers touching Jeonghan’s wrist. This time Jeonghan was hyper aware of it. His eyebrows strewn a little in frustration and he pulled his hand away.
“Don’t worry,” she assured. “Just stay here and I’ll be back.”
You might has well have not been in the room. Jeonghan gave her a small nod, and then she was scurrying out the door. You two were silent for a few seconds, and you tapped your finger against the kitchen counter.
“It’s too bad this isn’t marble…”
“Oh my god,” Jeonghan blurted, completely ignoring the way that you were trying to derail his thoughts. “That’s what all this is about?”
You let your eyes shut a little.
“Okay, well honestly marble wasn’t a defining feature, but it is nice-”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were jealous of the realtor?” Jeonghan laughed. You pouted a little.
“Why were you so blind to the way that she was so obviously flirting with you?” You shot back. He laughed again, and walked towards you, trapping you against the countertop. He leaned forward, his head dipping towards yours.
“Y/n, you know that you’re the only one that I want to be with,” he said softly. Your face burned, and you turned your gaze away from him.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t,” you grumbled back. Jeonghan hummed, and he dipped his head a bit, his lips pressing small kisses to your neck. Obviously intent on distracting you like he always did. And you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t working at least a little bit. “Jeonghan…”
“What?” Jeonghan cooed against your neck.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out in a bit of a whine.
Jeonghan pressed a kiss to the dip in your neck.
“Reminding my girlfriend that she’s my girlfriend,” he replied. He pressed back a little. “You don’t want to be reminded?”
The grab for consent was obvious. Your eyes darted towards the door.
“We’re not…”
“We have plenty of time,” Jeonghan pointed out, but as he spoke, he pulled back a bit. “But if you really just want to wish that the countertops were marble-”
Before Jeonghan could say more, you grabbed his face, locking him into a deep kiss. Jeonghan was quick to wedge the tip of his thumb between your lips, pressing you back. He gave you a stern look.
“Use your words y/n,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves. Your face burned at the way his thumb was pulling at your bottom lip.
“I could use some reminding,” you agreed softly. Jeonghan hummed, a self-satisfied smile crossing his lips.
“So, you’re saying…” His thumb pressed at your lip harder, until you dipped your head a bit, allowing his thumb to slip into your mouth. “That you want me to fuck you?”
Your eyes found a spot on the floor.
“Yes… I want you to fuck me,” you admitted, and Jeonghan’s thumb slipped fully into your mouth. You closed your lips around it, sucking on it the way you knew he wanted you to. But still he gasped as if you had said something scandalous.
“Here?” He hissed. “In some random apartment that we are walking around?”
You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, but it just made Jeonghan laugh softly. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, and smeared spit across your face.
“Get up on the counter,” he said. You scrambled up onto the counter as soon as he told you to, so when Jeonghan suddenly slapped you, you were surprised.
“Why did you do that?” You asked suddenly, as if the hit didn’t immediately make your thighs press together in excitement. Jeonghan placed his hands on your thighs, and leaned in so close to you that you could feel his hot breath on your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation.
“Because I know you like it,” Jeonghan replied. You felt him move back a little bit, his hands raising to your waist. He fumbled with the buttons on your pants. “Hold on tight.”
Your fingers tightened on the edge of the counter as Jeonghan pulled your pants to your ankles. You wiggled nervously as his hand rubbed over your thighs, pushing them farther apart, your panties now hanging off of your ankle. You let out a small grunt as he grabbed you by the hips, fully moving your body so that you were in a more convenient location for him.
He slapped a hand down on your thigh once you were in a position he liked, and you moaned as pain shot through your body.
“J-Jeonghan,” you whimpered, unsure of exactly what you wanted to say. He ignored you, pushing apart your legs and shoving two fingers roughly into your pussy. You cried out, and the reaction made Jeonghan snicker.
“Y/n, you don’t want someone to hear you, do you?” He asked condescendingly. Just as you went to respond he shoved his fingers even deeper into you and you swore it was deeper than his fingers had ever gotten before. You moaned, a small shriek on your lips.
“Fuck Jeonghan!”
“We have neighbors now,” Jeonghan chided. He started to cruelly pace his fingers, shoving them deep inside of you and crooking you once they were so deep that it elicited a scream from your lips. “Do you really want our brand-new neighbors to know that you are a filthy whore?”
You let out a soft cry, raising a hand to your face and weakly clamping your hand over your mouth.
Jeonghan hummed, a bit displeased it seemed, and he slapped your thigh again so hard that it jostled your entire body.
“Pick a lane y/n. Do you want the relator to know that you are my little whore, or do you want her to think that we are just close friends.”
Your hands dropped to grip at the counter again, warm tears rolling down your cheeks at the pain.
“W-Want her to know I’m yours,” you whispered. The whisper had Jeonghan’s fingers being ripped out of you. You heard his pants zipper go down and he was slapping your thighs again.
“Off the counter, hands on the edge, ass up,” he order and you scrambled into the position that he wanted. He smacked your thighs again.
“If you’re going to beg like cock like a whore, act like one better and spread your fucking legs,” he grunted. You quickly did as he was told- Rewarded by the tip of his cock dragging through your folds. You tried not to moan too loudly. Your head hit the counter.
“A-Are you still wearing your jeans?” You whispered, your voice shaky. Jeonghan chuckled and slipped the tip of his cock into your pussy. You moaned, your pussy clamping on around it, begging for more.
“Y/n, sluts get fucked in the most convenient way possible,” Jeonghan whispsered. He pulled the tip of his cock out of you. “And they don’t complain. They thank their master-” You let out a strangled moan. A term Jeonghan had never used with you before and one you knew he wouldn’t soon be forgetting. “So why don’t you thank your master y/n?”
You let out a sob.
“Just fuck me,” you begged softly. “Just fuck me please. Don’t tease me. Jeonghan for once please-”
Your ass was slapped again, and Jeonghan’s fingers found their way to your hair. He tightened his grip in it, pulling you sharply back.
“It’s not like you to be a brat right before you’re about to get dick,” Jeonghan mumbled softly. He pulled you up with one hand, his other anchored on the small of your back so that he could force your back to arch fully. His cock rubbed against your folds.
“Do you want to come today y/n?”
You nearly started to cry.
“Y-Yes,” you stammered. Jeonghan’s lips quirked up into a smile.
“Then be good,” he said. “Thank your master and apologize for being a jealous brat.”
You whined and your head fell forward a bit.
“You like it when I’m a jealous brat-”
Your words earned you a sharp smack to your ass. You cried out, and Jeonghan only responded by doing what he knew would drive you absolutely crazy and dragging his cock head through your folds teasingly. He dipped his head into you for just a second and then pulled it out, tapping the head of his cock to your hole that was just begging to be fucked.
“Fine! Thank you master f-for fucking me a-at all,” you stammered out. Jeonghan let out a satisfied huff of air and his cock continued to drag through your folds.
“That word sounds so good on your lips,” he said lightly. “Now, what else did I ask you to say?”
“I-I'm s-sorry,” you bit out. Jeonghan sighed.
“See, it’s just that I don’t really believe you,” he chided. “It sounds to me like you’re just saying what you know I want to hear.”
You bit your lip from saying that of course that was what you were doing.
“Please, please, please,” you begged. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good it’s crazy how good I’ll be.”
Jeonghan chided.
“And you’re still not apologizing,” he whispered. He leaned forward and started to kiss down your spine. You shivered at his touch.
“Pl-please,” you whimpered. “But I-I won’t apologize for being possessive and mad that-”
Jeonghan suddenly pushed deep into your pussy, and you cried out from relief at having his cock finally all the way inside of you. So deep that your toes were curling and those tears of frustration and relief started to roll down your cheeks.
“You’re so right,” he whispered against your back. “I love it when you’re a jealous brat.”
His fingers found their way into the roots of your hair, and he tightened his grip on it. Leaning back up and placing his other hand on the small of your back. He pulled out and using his grip in your hair as leverage pushed back into you hard.
You let out a mixture between a moan and a yelp, and you swore your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
“Fuck J-Jeonghan-”
He stopped you speaking by roughly fucking back into you. Each thrust so hard that your whole-body shook.
“No one takes it like you, y/n,” Jeonghan mumbled softly, his thrusts a complete mismatch from his tone of voice. “Fuck, the rougher I am the harder you squeeze my cock. You’re such a fucking whore and you’re all mine.”
You whimpered and nodded as he continued to ravage your pussy against the counter.
“Oh, I can’t wait to make this apartment ours,” he mumbled. “Going to break in every room by fucking you there so hard that our neighbors will know how you like it from day one. If they aren’t home now, I’ll make damn sure that they hear us at least once while they’re home.”
Your face reddened in embarrassment, but your traitorous body just responded by squeezing Jeonghan’s dick harder. God, when had you become such an exhibitionist?
“Do you deserve to come?” Jeonghan asked you. You whimpered, unsure of what to say. You never knew the kind of answer that Jeonghan was expecting you to give when he asked you questions like this, so all you could do was answer the way that you wanted to:
“Y-Yes!” You cried out. “Yes please, I deserve it.”
Jeonghan’s hand that was on your back wrapped around your stomach, pulling you up flush against him. His other hand released your hair and slid down your body to your clit.
“You’re right. You do deserve it. Go on love, come for me.”
He started to play with your clit as he spoke but if you were honest, it wasn’t even necessary. Your orgasm was so hard that you had to clutch and Jeonghan’s arm around your body as you came. You were shaking, a sweating and crying and it felt so good. You barely registered as Jeonghan groaned in your ear, his lips pressing kisses against your cheek sloppily as he poured his cum into your pussy.
You didn’t stop shaking until you felt Jeonghan’s movements still and his dick stopped twitching inside of you. You fell completely still in his arms, your chest heaving as you tried to get your breathing even again.
“I love you so much,” Jeonghan whispered against your cheek. You nodded.
“I love you too.”
His lips quirked into a smile.
“You deserve the world,” he promised. “I just want to make sure that this really is the apartment that you want. Do you really want this one?”
You nodded against him, turning your head so that your lips were brushing his. His eyes bored into yours as if searching them to make sure that you were telling the truth. He seemed to find what he was looking for after a few moments.
“Then we’ll get it.”
You heard the front door to the apartment open and you were suddenly very aware of what you and Jeonghan had just done. You put on your clothes faster than you had ever imagined you could, but Jeonghan made no attempt to pull his shirt back on.
When Dana rounded the corner, you were running your fingers through your hair, trying to tidy it back up. As you did so Jeonghan tugged on a free strand. You turned to look at him and he dragged you down, his hands closing around your cheeks. He pulled you into a deep kiss, one of his hands dipping beneath your shirt.
Your face burned, but when he pulled away and patted your cheek softly saying a pleasant: “Good girl.” You got over the majority of your embarrassment.
You nervously glanced at Dana, whose face was burning red as well. Her eyes darted from you to Jeonghan, and back to you. Jeonghan got to his feet, stretching out his arms.
“Y/n, I think I lost my shirt,” he said, with an overexaggerated pout. You let out a nervous laugh and looked across the room at Dana.
“He’s, uh-”
Jeonghan interrupted you by slipping his hand into your back pocket. His face was inches from yours so even if you wanted to, you couldn’t find it in yourself to pay attention to Dana again. You let Jeonghan draw your attention. A smile flitted across his lips, but it quickly shifted into a pout.
“Why are you acting so shy?” He asked you lightly.
“I have the, uh, paperwork,” Dana pipped up. Your eyes flickered towards her, but just as they did Jeonghan’s thumb pressed into your chin.
“Nuh uh, not’s so fast,” he murmured. Your eyes were back on him. “You know that I don’t like anybody else, right?”
You took a shaky, humiliated, breath.
“Of course, I know that,” you managed to reply. He hummed, searching your face.
“And you know that I don’t even look like that at other people,” Jeonghan replied. “That I’m completely loyal even while you run around with your little boytoys.”
The joke hit the right audience, you let out a surprised laugh.
“I know,” you agreed. “And they’re not my little-”
Jeonghan interrupted your denial with a small kiss. You rolled your eyes.
“Jeonghan-”
He kissed you again.
“The paperwork,” Dana called out again, this time standing closer to the two of you. You turned to glance at her and just as you went to speak, a full groan escaped Jeonghan’s mouth. He buried his face into your neck and then turned his whole body into you. Sliding both of his hands into your back pockets.
“I’m so tired of people coming between us,” he mumbled softly. You ignored him and reached out for the paperwork. Dana begrudgingly placed it in your hands.
Jeonghan whined at the fact that you were moving, clearly completely unembarrassed by the fact that Dana was standing right there. You read over the paper and sighed.
“If you’re serious about signing this lease today, you know you’re going to have to actually sign it.”
Jeonghan groaned again in protest. You rolled your eyes, but you felt warm. You pushed him back by his forehead.
“Okay, I get it,” you relented. “I’m dumb for being jealous… Can we sign this lease please?”
Jeonghan flashed you a smile.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
-
You let out a heavy sigh as you brought the last box from the car and placed it in one of the only free spots that you could spot. Jeonghan perked up from where he had collapsed on the floor after winning the argument on who was going to bring the last box upstairs.
“We’re done?” He asked you. You sighed, leaning on the doorknob.
“I mean we still have to unpack.”
Jeonghan sighed.
“Do we have to?”
You pressed the door shut behind you and shrugged.
“You want to fuck me on a mattress on the floor?” You asked bluntly. A mischievous smile spread across Jeonghan’s face.
“I’d fuck you spread across these boxes,” he replied. “Or in the stairway… Or on the porch…”
Your face burned and you brushed your hands down your pants.
“We’re both sweaty and disgusting,” you replied even though you didn’t think that Jeonghan looked disgusting at all. And every time that he had to take a moment to catch his breath, and drink some water, and you watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat-
“Then I guess that we’ll just have to break in the shower,” he replied.
“Jeonghan-”
Jeonghan got to his feet and wiped his hands off on his jeans.
“You know where to find me,” he said coyly before walking down the hall. You sucked in a sharp breath, clicking the door locked behind you.
You had a feeling it was going to take you two a very long time to get everything unpacked.
You rolled your eyes, your fingers tapping against a glass of Heinkien Zero in irritation.
“You’re right. It wasn’t that bad. It was worse,” you reply dryly. The man, Jared, continued to plead with you- And you weren’t really sure why.
This stupid 5’6 man had unfortunately been your boyfriend of six months.
Yes, this stupid, short blonde idiot had dated you… Kissed you… Been in you and you had let it go on for six months.
It was a different time. You were in a different space of your life. Your eyes were closed.
And your eyes were forced open when you walked in one him fucking a man.
So yeah, you dumped him on the spot, and for some reason he was pretty insistent on getting you back, so this was (unfortunately) one of the many conversations you two had recently about you getting back together.
See, the chances you of you making that mistake twice was damn near zero. But Jared apparently didn’t think about that. All he wanted was to get back together with you so that he could get away with cheating on you with (presumably) more men.
“Don’t you miss me?” Jared continued.
Miss you? There wasn’t much to miss about him. You could barely even feel him when…
Okay, alright this was not how you had wanted to spend your valentine’s day.
Spending it at the bar was of course, a choice, but you had wanted to hanging out with your friends. How were you to know that they would abandon you so quickly in the night?
You sat there, fiddling with your bottle as Jared continued to practically beg you to date him.
You were considering violence at this point… How much trouble would you actually get in if you smashed this bottle over his head? You weren’t drunk, so you wouldn’t have that defense. And technically you weren’t defending anyone so if you hurt him Gavin McKenna style the assault charges weren’t likely to be dropped.
“Excuse me?”
You looked up, unsure of why someone else was talking to you, and why it was also a man- but your annoyance dropped from your face when you looked up at him.
Fluffy ear length black hair, the sexiest white button up rolled to just above his elbows, the shirt barely hiding his biceps. You forced yourself to focus on his eyes, even though you wanted to grab him by the silver chain hanging around his neck and kiss him.
“You must be…” He trailed off, and he looked embarrassed. “Well… I don’t want to be presumptuous because you are so much… Prettier than I expected outside of your photos.”
Outside of your photos?
“I’m Seungcheol… From Hinge? Last minute, desperate drinks at the bar on Valentine’s Day Cheol?”
And then you realized what this was. He was saving you.
“And I thought I was early,” you said with a laugh, supplying him with your name quickly. “Sorry, I just thought I would secure us seats.”
The man smiled at you and pulled a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back- You didn’t have to fake the surprise at receiving that.
“Oh- This is-“
“Who is this?” Jared suddenly asked, crossing his arms over his chest like a fucking baby who was refused his 5th piece of candy for the day.
“My date,” you deadpanned, taking the flowers. “And he actually knows how to treat a person.”
“I’ve gotten you flowers,” Jared grumbled.
“Who… Is this?” Seungcheol asked, innocently.
“My ex,” you said at the same time as Jared replied: “The boyfriend.”
“Not to sour our first date,” you responded. “But Jared and I have been broken up for a blissful month of stalking and pestering on Jared’s end.”
You stared at the flower petals in your hand.
“And only after I caught him fucking someone else.”
“It wasn’t what it looked like!” Jared argued.
“He was inside of you.”
“Jared, I think you should leave,” Seungcheol said after a moment. Jared looked at him.
“And who are y-”
Before Jared could finish Seungcheol was cracking his neck- Left… Right…
He rolled out his shoulders and his shirt tugged against his muscles so much that you couldn’t believe his shirt hadn’t ripped into pieces.
“This is the last time I’ll say it nicely Jared. Leave.”
And by the time you had turned back to see Jared’s surely stupid face, he was long gone. You snorted at how quickly the guy had run off, and turned back to your savior.
You handed the bouquet of flowers back to the man.
“Well, thank you for that-“
He pushed the flowers back into your hand.
“No, that’s for you,” he replied. “I stole them from some jackass across the bar. Heard him talking about how he was going to take advantage of some sad, lonely girls.”
Seungcheol shook his head.
“Some people…”
You tilted your head as you looked at him.
“And what about you? Why are you here then?”
Seungcheol seemed lost in thought, his eyes on something else entirely. It took him a few moments to even realize you had spoken.
“Oh.” His eyes turned back to you. “Me?”
You smiled and nodded. He tilted his head.
“Friends… Gone… And now I’m here. I was about to head out when I saw the guy messing with you.”
“Oh,” you said. “Heroic.”
Seungcheol let out a shy laugh.
“Not really. I had ulterior motives.” He gave you a small smile. “You’re… Really pretty.”
Your traitorous face reddened, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what you knew he was already aware of. The fact that he was unbelievably hot.
You tilted your head away from him.
“Well, thank you for getting Jared to leave me alone.”
Seungcheol nodded.
“Anytime. Have a good night.”
You whipped around, not expecting him to be turning around to leave so readily.
“Wait!” You blurted before you could think it over. Your face was red as you looked up at this fucking Adonis.
“You… Should stay,” you mumbled. “I’ll buy you a drink. As a thank you.”
A smile flitted across Seungcheol’s face.
“A thank you?”
You nodded.
“A thank you.”
You fiddled with the flowers in your hands, until Seungcheol finally shrugged.
“I suppose I can do one drink.”
And luckily for the both of you, neither of you were upset to close out the bar that night.
Warnings: rough sex, dubcon if you squint, dom!cheol, stepdad!cheol, mentions of religion, rough sex, degradation a smidge, creampie, no condoms, this should maybe be on my other account
Readers discretion advised.
-
You were in theory- a good person.
A very good person in fact, the kind of person that went out of their way to make someone else smile. The kind of person who would drive across the city to give another friend food when they were sick. The kind of person who would pay for a stranger’s coffee just because.
The kind of person who absolutely did not get turned on by their step father, absolutely fucking not.
When your mom had introduced you to Choi Seungcheol your mouth had run dry. You had forgotten how to breathe right. You couldn’t quite recall why your hands were suddenly so clammy.
Fuck, fuck, fuck it was absolutely fucking wrong to be turned on by your step father, absolutely completely wrong.
Your mother was absolutely the worst, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
She shouldn’t have gotten married to Choi Seungcheol. She just did it as a last ditch rebound from her just as shitty ex-husband and Seungcheol was her fourth husband, in a string of ten years since your father had died.
Your mom got worse and worse with each one. She was just the sort of woman who liked company. The sort of person that was now unafraid of using men for her own gain.
And yes! Feminism! We love that. Treat men like objects!
But Choi Seungcheol… was someone that you wanted to treat you like an object.
He was so kind, even though your mom wasn’t ever around after the marriage. He let her use his money, he let her parade around other men. The man even cooked dinner, and even still- Your mom acted like he was just another one of her past slums.
Seungcheol was an angel, which was ironic as all hell because all he made you want to do was fucking sin.
You wanted to be on your knees for him, you wanted to worship his beautiful dick. (Well, you assumed it was beautiful). You wanted him to pound you and you didn’t even care if your mom walked in-
You stood up abruptly, slamming your laptop shut with a sharp intake of air.
You were definitely not a good person.
You moved yourself to take a long shower, letting freezing cold water drench you as you tried to reclaim semblance of the person you were supposed to be. Not a homewrecker.
Even if there wasn’t a home to wreck.
After taking your cold shower that was leaving you miserable you walked downstairs to go grab something to eat.
You paused as you entered the kitchen, nothing on but a long ACDC shirt.
Why was Seungcheol standing there? Why was he leaning against the countertop? Why was he drinking from a coffee mug you had grown up drinking from?
Before you could leave the kitchen- because food actually, was not a necessary thing to live. Because looking at Seungcheol you felt like he was the only thing that you needed to live and that was bad, and doordash could probably deliver to your bedroom window- Seungcheol’s eyes flickered up to you.
“You’re up late,” he commented.
“It’s my house,” you snapped back, and then despite yourself you stormed into the kitchen. You were a feminist for christ’s sake and you were not going to let this extremely attractive man keep you from doing things in your own home.
You pulled open the fridge, feeling the coolness of the air creeping up your thighs and under your shirt. Your tits strained against the fabric of the shirt because you could feel Seungcheol’s eyes on you-
“You know you’re a lot mouthier than people say,” Seungcheol commented. Your face reddened and you quite literally whipped around.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You snap. Seungcheol’s eyebrows rose.
“Language sweetie.”
You scoffed at the fact you were being called sweetie.
“Do I really need to drop the ‘you’re not my dad’ line?” You asked him. He walked up behind you, much too fucking close.
“Trust me, I don’t need a reminder,” he replied. “I think about it… Quite a bit.”
Oh… You were not going to be exploring that.
“Then why don’t you leave me the fuck alone?”
Seungcheol looked amused.
“I wish I could but… It just seems to me like you need to be taught some respect.”
He leaned forward, his face coming in close to yours. He was too close, breathing your fucking air.
This wasn’t appropriate. You should not be this close to sin itself.
Suddenly, the fridge behind you beeped, telling you it had been open for too long. You bit your bottom lip as he pushed the fridge door closed, getting even closer.
His fingers played with the hem of your shirt.
“Did your mother tell you that she was going out of town?”
You gritted your teeth. Of course, she was leaving you in your own personal garden of Eden, just staring at the one fucking fruit you weren’t supposed to eat.
“She didn’t,” you replied softly. His fingers brushed your thigh and you sucked in a sharp breath of air, your eyes fluttering shut.
“Step dad-”
“We both know I won’t be your step dad much longer,” Seungcheol replied softly. “Your mother is hardly in love.”
“St-still…”
Seungcheol’s hand slid to your ass, and he squeezed it. Your eyes shot open in surprise, as he fingers brushed far down enough to feel how you were basically dripping down your thighs.
“Sweetie I can’t resist you anymore,” Seungcheol whispered, leaning in close to you, his warm breath on your neck. “Tell me not to and I won’t but… I’d like you to just be a good girl and take it.”
Your breath hitched as he tilted his head up to look at you, waiting for your answer.
You surged forward, your lips clashing against Seungcheol’s. You raised your hands to his neck so that you could press him closer to you and as he straightened up you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist so that he could carry you over to the kitchen counter.
You continued to kiss him like he was air you needed to breath, your mind going blank as he fumbled to get his pants off. His huge fucking dick settled between your thighs, hard and leaking at the tip as he lowered a hand to your bare cunt.
He pushed your shirt up as he started to kiss down your neck and as soon as your shirt was on the marble floor his hands were squeezing your breasts.
A moan ripped out of your mouth, and you lowered your hands, gripping his cock while he played with your tits. He had to tilt his head away from you letting out his own guttural moan when you did that.
”I’m going to destroy you,” he mumbled against your skin, his lips kissing down until they were sucking one of your tits into his mouth. You whined as his teeth grazed you, and one of his hands lowered to your pussy once again.
”I’ve never touched anyone wetter… You really want this don’t you?” Seungcheol teased you (like an asshole). His fingers slipped into your pussy before you could respond, and you lost the ability to talk.
“I wanted you from the second I first saw you,” Seungcheol mumbled against your breasts, his fingers already pistoning in and out of your pussy. “Knew that I was making a mistake the second I said ‘I do’.”
He slipped another finger into you.
”You parade around this house so indifferent to me and your mother it drove me fucking crazy. Wouldn’t have even stayed with your mom if not for the fact I need you so bad it’s driving me crazy.”
You whined, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and slowly rocking your hips into his fingers.
”Needed you so bad…” You whimper back. “need you… Right now…”
Seungcheol looked up at you with a sly grin.
”No need to say more.”
He grabbed you by your hips in a bruising grip and leaned his cock to your pussy. There was a brief, fleeting second, where you thought about the fact that there was no condom on Seungcheol’s cock. Where you reasonably remembered there really should be a condom on his cock.
But within seconds of thinking that, his cock slid an inch in and you felt every detail of Cheol and you were basically tugging him closer.
The sounds that Seungcheol was making were making you feel a sort of turned on you had never felt before. Your core burned, and you felt like the only way to sate the feeling was to get Seungcheol deeper and deeper into you.
As soon as you could your lips were on his again, your fingers buried into his hair as you tugged him closer. He nipped at your lips whenever he could, his tongue exploring every part of your mouth. He lowered you onto your back as he devoured you, and you didn’t let him out for air even as he pummeled you so hard that it made your eyes roll back.
Seungcheol’s lips left yours once he realized that he was fucking you so dumb that you couldn’t even focus on the kiss anymore. He kissed down your chin, to your neck, biting down in every spot that he could.
Your mind was in shambles as he slammed his cock so deep into you that with each thrust you saw stars and it still wasn’t enough. You needed him to permanently be buried deep into your body.
”I’m coming deep into your pussy, and you are going to take every fucking drop,” Seungcheol practically growled against your neck. No options- Not that you wanted any.
You nodded and as you did Seungcheol’s cock exploded inside of you, every drop of cum filling you up in a way that you had always dreamed and hoped and imagined it would.
You felt the pleasure coiling up in your body finally explode. The pleasure rolling through your body was so intense that you were left screaming, your whole body shaking as he brutally fucked you through your orgasm, praises of: ‘Good girl, such a good girl’ leaving his mouth.
As you finally came down from your orgasm, Seungcheol kissed you all over your face, looking at you with a sort of fondness you hadn’t expected.
”There we are, that’s my good girl,” he mumbled. “You’re all mine, yeah? You’re going to be step dad’s good little secret aren’t you.”
You looked up at him with a dazed expression, feeling his cum leaking out around his cock you were so full of cum.
summary: you think you’re good at keeping your crush on your roommate hidden. you can handle it. but then you wake up to him in bed next to you, arms wrapped around you, and you have no idea how to deal with your suppressed feelings anymore.
word count: 10.8k
warnings: college au, seungcheol is a playboy and the frat kind, reader is a nerd and an introvert, roommate!seungcheol, roommate!jeonghan, angst, fluff, doremiz as bffs, smut, nsfw, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, possessive tendencies and jealousy.
Early mornings in your apartment are quaint.
You weren’t a morning person for most of your life, but college hath changed you, or whatever. Now you are up in the morning like clockwork, even without an alarm, and even on weekends. It’s a little annoying, especially when you plan to have a lazy Saturday, so you would rather wake up much later. But there’s nothing you can do to fight the biological clock inside you. It is what it is.
Everything is dead silent as you open your door and putter into the kitchen. You’re sure both your roommates are neck deep in slumber, since it was Friday night last night. That always means a party on campus, so the next morning usually entails not waking up until well into the day and with a terrible hangover. It’s only 9am right now. You’re sure they won’t be up until at least noon.
You don’t make a lot of noise as you get the machine ready for a nice cup of coffee. All three of you had gone in on it so you could get the expensive, fancy kind. Jeonghan had called it an investment, and you had wholeheartedly agreed. Seungcheol grumbled about it a little but gave his part of the money anyway. He kept claiming he wasn’t that big on coffee, but ever since you bought it, he has had a cup every morning without fail, something Jeonghan will never stop teasing him on.
The aroma is warm and rich in your nose as it slowly infiltrates the kitchen. You contemplate if you want breakfast now with your coffee or later, and decide to grab an apple. You’re just staring at it, wondering if the brown spot on it is something you can ignore or if you should discard the whole thing, when you hear light pattering on the floors outside.
You expect Jeonghan’s slumped, languid figure to slink into the kitchen, groaning about how tired he is, or maybe Seungcheol with his head of short, spiked hair all over the place and that perpetual pout that undercuts his years of effort building impressive muscle. But it’s neither of them. It’s someone you don’t know.
She blinks owlishly at you, hair tangled on her head and wearing a bright bodycon dress, holding a pair of heels in her hand. Her mascara is smudged, but under the distressed look, you can tell that she is amazingly pretty.
“Hi.” She chirps. It’s soft and almost melodic. You manage to smile back. The air is painfully awkward, so she shifts and takes a hesitant step back.
“I should just go.” She says sheepishly, and before you can say anything (not that you were planning to), she disappears from the doorway of the kitchen. After a few seconds, you hear the front door click shut. You swallow hard, but the knot formed in your throat doesn’t go away.
Friday nights don’t just mean waking up at noon with terrible hangovers. They also mean a girl trying to tiptoe out of Seungcheol’s room. And always a stranger. Never the same one twice.
You sigh and turn back to the coffee machine, which lets out a beep. You quickly take the pot to fill your cup, deciding against adding milk and just taking a sip of the dark mixture. You wince when it slides down your throat, but it’s hot enough and bitter enough that the knot in your throat loosens. You stare at your cup, the swirling liquid, and try your best to not think about your recent interaction.
There’s no point in it. Seungcheol is just….. like that. Someone so unbelievably different that you can’t fathom how you even ended up in the same orbit.
Well, you know exactly how. Yoon Jeonghan.
Jeonghan was in your first ever introductory class in college. He was seated right next to you, and after knowing you for the duration of just one lecture, he asked if you were looking for a place off campus, and then offered you his in the same breath. Apparently he and his roommate were desperate, and they really needed a third cohabitant in order to make rent. You just turned out to be the one who was looking for a place to stay, so you ended up saying yes, because Jeonghan gave you great vibes.
Seungcheol did too, when you met him.
You were immediately taken by him. He was loud and a little rough around the edges, but so endlessly kind. Seungcheol doesn’t look it, but he’s very in-tune with people’s emotions as well as his own. He knows what he wants out of life, he has endless confidence in himself. He’s charismatic, magnetic, and it only helps that he is beyond attractive. Tall, built like a brick house (something he is very proud of), soft dark hair and that charming smile accentuated by a dimple on his right cheek.
That fuckass dimple.
You knew you liked him. It was immediate. You were excited just at the thought of sharing space with him. And so you moved in, giddy at the thought of having your own place for the first time in your life, and sharing it with two guys who looked like seemingly amazing people.
And they truly are. It’s just that you were naïve to think Seungcheol’s appeal didn’t extend to everyone else like it did to you.
He’s like a lighthouse, attracting everyone to him like lost travelers. His friend circle is huge, from the gym dudes like Mingyu and Jihoon he works out with, to the party freaks like Soonyoung and Joshua he spends weekends with. He’s not in a frat, but he moves among a lot of similar people. Then there’s their friends, just an endless network that won’t stop expanding. This means meet-ups and parties every weekend, and that means there’s a girl in his room every two or three weekends.
You can’t even fault him. If someone looks like that, it would be criminal if they didn’t get regular action.
You and Seungcheol are fundamentally different people. You have friends too, but fewer, and more tight-knit. You are a homebody above anything else, and if it wasn’t for your friend Seungkwan, who is the most extroverted person you know outside of Seungcheol, you would never even leave your house. But Seungkwan’s definition of going out is much different to Seungcheol’s. So while Seungcheol likes the gym, pregaming, bowling and frat parties, you have scheduled cooking classes, basket weaving workshops, and arcade tournaments that Hansol drags you to once every month.
You’re poles apart. And you’re content with that. You can float in his periphery, and that’s enough for you. He’s miles out of your league anyway. So you’re happy just being an admirer.
“It’s pathetic.” Hansol often mumbles, voice devoid of any real venom. He sounds disinterested if anything.
“Thanks.” You shoot back. Seungkwan looks at Hansol, offended on your behalf.
“I think it’s cute.” He defends you. You grin at him and pinch his cheek. He swats your hand away, making you laugh.
“How bad can it really be if you just tell him?” Chan pipes up, his head down as he concentrates on pouring his wax into the mold slowly, trying not to spill it. You genuinely think his candle will smell the best out of your group, since he’s the only one truly concentrating. You’re too focused on telling them about the girl in your kitchen this morning.
Hansol snorts, tapping his mold on the table like your instructor told you to. His is a strange, muddy brown color. It smells like shit, but you don’t have the heart to tell him. You and Seungkwan did drag him to this candle making class on a weekend when he could just be sleeping all day, so he could make the worst candle known to man and you will still hype him up.
“She doesn’t have the balls.” He mumbles. You look at him with a gaping mouth.
“Hey!”
Hansol raises a challenging eyebrow. “Do you? You won’t tell him you like him. Ever. I’m not wrong.”
You scowl, feeling deeply offended. He isn’t wrong, and you all know it, because Seungkwan isn’t defending you this time. He just gives you a wince, indicating he agrees with Hansol. Dammit, you’re cornered.
“Your candle smells like shit.” You shoot back.
That distracts him, and he starts doubting and fretting over his candle, leaning down to sniff it over and over. The rest of the workshop is spent trying to salvage Hansol’s attempt, so you don’t get back to the topic you were previously discussing.
Good.
Jeonghan and Seungcheol are both on the couch by the time you come back in the late afternoon. They both look bleary-eyed and half dead, hair still damp on their heads from showering, eating takeout and watching TV. They greet you brightly when you come in, and you slump onto the couch next to them.
“What did you bring us?” Jeonghan asks. You always bring your crafts home, including today. You made three candles, one for each of you, and you’re excited as you take them out of your tote, hand them over, describing the scents you used.
“I made lavender and vanilla for you.” You hand Jeonghan his. He hums and nods in satisfaction as he sniffs, smiling big.
“Oh I need to light this immediately.” He pipes up, quickly standing to trudge into the kitchen. You grin.
“And me?” Seungcheol smiles at you, still leaned back on the couch so he can rest his head on the cushion. You can tell his head is still hurting a little.
“Your favorite.” You smile. “Cherry.”
Seungcheol looks excited as you hand it over. He eyes the dark color for a little bit before bringing it to his nose, sniffing. You watch his eyelashes flutter.
“Oh.” You see his lips tug up in realisation. “It smells like my cologne.”
“Yeah. The other note is sandalwood.” You feel the sides of your face heat up. “You…. you like those scents a lot.”
You immediately feel like you’ve revealed too much when Seungcheol’s eyes soften. He watches you for a few seconds, sniffing again.
“I love it.” He says, turning it over in his hand. It looks comically small in his hold. “It’s perfect.”
You nod jerkily and fidget a little, trying not to think about how fast your heart is racing, or how gentle this moment feels. Intimate, almost, sitting so close to him that your knee almost touches his thigh, his hair half falling into his eyes, the eyes he still has trained on you, the candle you put care into held delicately in his hand.
Jeonghan walks back into the living room with his lit candle, talking about how much trouble he had finding a lighter. The air around you breaks, and you stand up, mumbling something about how you’re tired already, so you’re going to head to bed. It’s only afternoon, and the excuse is bullshit, but you know you can’t be close to Seungcheol much longer without your heart hurting. You don’t feel Seungcheol’s eyes on your back as you leave, and you have no clue about the knowing way Jeonghan looks at his friend.
…………………………
Weekdays are filled with classes. So you have no time to relax.
You think it’s a fundamental flaw in you that you are taking so many classes, but your overachieving tendencies won’t let you back down from even one of them. Some days, it leaves you annoyed and frustrated, but often, those same classes serve as a blessing in disguise, because they preoccupy you so much that you don’t have to worry about any other problem in your life.
By the end of the week, you’re so exhausted that you just want to glue yourself to your bed, vowing not to move for the entire weekend. Of course, Seungkwan always plans something and inevitably drags you out of your humble abode, but you will take what time you have, unwinding and letting your brain shut down after a long and tiring five days. You fall asleep in the middle of your Modern Family marathon, managing to get only halfway through the season before you’re shutting your laptop, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Before you know it, you’re knocked out, and you don’t move until well into the next morning.
You wake up because you’re burning hot. Sweat makes your shirt cling to your back. In fact, your back is so warm that it’s uncomfortable. Your face pinches in annoyance, and you shift a little. At your movement, something tightens around your waist.
Your eyes pop open.
Morning light filters in through the curtains on your windows, setting the room up in a soft glow. You’re on your side, staring at the far off wall of your bedroom. There is weight draped over your waist, a warm touch splayed over your stomach. When you shift again, just slightly, the touch twitches and moves.
A hand.
You almost scream, but then you feel the soft hit of air on the back of your neck, periodic and deep. Like someone exhaling. You breathe in, the smell of cherry and sandalwood in your nose. You would recognise that anywhere. Even barely half conscious, you know who that scent belongs to.
Your entire backside, your torso, your ass, the back of your thighs, are pressed tightly to Seungcheol’s front, his arm a heavy weight draped around you so that he hand grips your stomach gently. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, his exhales on your skin. You’ve gone so stiff you can barely feel your body, but you’re hyperaware of every part of you that touches him. You lay there in shock, contemplating.
What the hell is he doing? How did he end up in your room? How did he end up spooning you?
You have no answers, but you do know you need to get out of here. You brace yourself, using your leg in contact with the mattress to push until your body disconnects with Seungcheol’s a little. You freeze when he groans, a low sound that cracks under the weight of sleep, and you barely hold in a gasp when he tugs harshly with the arm around you, making you lurch back so he is once again pressed into you. He curls tighter around you, like his body is melting into yours, and your heart kicks painfully at your ribs. That’s when you feel it, hard and insistent, just nestled between your ass cheeks, his erection straining against the jeans he probably wore to whatever party he attended last night.
Mortification hits your veins like ice. You’re rock still in his arms, not even able to process what the fuck is happening to you. You feel his hand move a little, squeezing subconsciously, his fingers sinking into the plush of your stomach. Your face flames, and you can’t take it anymore. You grip his wrist tight and tug hard, loosening his grip, and immediately lunging out of bed. Your feet barely hit the floor before you’re already making a beeline out of the bedroom and straight into the bathroom. You don’t look back once. You definitely used enough force to wake him, but maybe he was so drunk before he passed out that he didn’t get roused by your movements.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, the horrified look on your face, your wide eyes, and the fact that your heart is beating so fast that it’s making you breath heavily. You lean against the sink, your legs shifting, and you realise you’re wet, nearly soaking through your shorts.
Your hands tremble as you wash them, staring at nothing. You remember how warm Seungcheol was, almost unbearably so, how good it was to feel him against you, the solid frame of him, caging you in like you were meant to be in his arms. His hand, digging into your flesh like it was his, and his bulge, so prominent and urgent, pressing into your ass, inches away from where you need him the most.
You’re so fucked.
You don’t think twice before jumping into the shower, letting the water pour over your head even though it’s not hair wash day. You don’t even wait for the hot water to come in, just standing beneath the stream as it slowly warms up. The initial shock of cold does wonders, calms your racing heart and smothers the heat in the bottom of your stomach. You let out a shaky breath.
It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. He was probably so drunk he didn’t even realise where he ended up crashing. Your room is the first one on the left, his is the first one on the right. It’s an easy mistake, especially if someone is wasted. It seems like the best explanation, way more plausible than him actually sliding into your bed intentionally, a notion that just sounds absurd in your head.
You don’t know what to do.
You stay in the shower for so long that the pads of your fingers prune and the water turns cold again. You slip your pajamas back onto your wet body, because you didn’t bring a change of clothes with you, and finally, you brace yourself and return to your room, taking a deep inhale before opening the door. The bed is empty. He’s gone.
It’s relieving, because you were in no way prepared to see him. When you look at the clock, you realise it’s almost midday. So you pick up your phone and text Seungkwan, asking what his plans for the day are.
Seungkwan is honestly confused, because you almost never initiate meet-ups yourself, but he doesn’t turn you down. Him and Chan are both free, so you decide to meet up for a simple lunch. Hansol opts out, since his sister is in the city for the weekend. You’re grateful you have someone, because keeping this inside is feeling more and more impossible. As soon as you sit down, you blurt out everything that happened in the morning.
Seungkwan is beside himself, mouth opening and closing not unlike a fish, horror struck. He gasps at every detail, but groans disapprovingly when you talk about Seungcheol’s hard-on against your ass.
“You could’ve left that detail out.” He mutters.
“But it’s important!” You insist. “Kwannie, I’m a mess. What do I do? How can I even look him in the eye after this?”
Chan huffs, looking a lot calmer than Seungkwan. “Don’t do anything. Look, you’re right. It was probably a mistake. And if he remembers it at all, he will be pretty embarrassed. So just don’t talk about it at all. Don’t bring it up. Be normal.”
Right. That’s solid advice. Be normal.
But it’s hard to do that, not when you can’t stop thinking about it. The sizzle of his touch is something you’re reminded of when you lay in your bed that night, staring up at your ceiling and remembering how it felt to have his breath hit your skin, so close that you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. And when the heat becomes too much, when your mind goes awry and shuts down, your hand slides into your shorts.
It’s too much. You can’t face him when your brain and your actions are so depraved.
When Hansol finds out what happened, he says what he always does, that this is a problem of your own making.
“You chose this.” He says on Monday, when you finally meet him and tell him everything. “You live with him. It’s unavoidable that something weirdly uncomfortable would happen when you’re in close quarters with someone. And you can’t avoid him. You will see him every day.”
To you, it was always a net positive that you got to see Seungcheol every day, any unrequited feelings aside. Your hidden crush on him was trumped by the fact that he was so endlessly charming to you, your little puppy crush urged on by seeing him, being around him, basking in his presence. But now, that very thing is coming back to bite you in the ass.
You go a whopping three days without coming face to face with him. But then, your sneaking finally fails you. He catches you before classes on Wednesday, cornering you in the kitchen when you’re there to fill up your water bottle.
“I’m really sorry about that night.” He sounds sheepish, embarrassed. You remember Chan’s words, shaking your head in the best way you can think of to placate him.
“It’s fine! You were drunk, you probably don’t even remember that you did it. Honest mistake, right?”
Seungcheol smiles a little, his eyes trained carefully on you.
“Right.” He mutters.
He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and you want to blame it on his embarrassment. You feel uncomfortable, and you wonder if it has to do with what happened between you, or if he’s just being a little weird today.
“I should go.” You mumble. “Just had to fill this up.”
You hold up your water bottle for him to see. His eyes finally leave you to focus on it, and he raises a thick eyebrow.
“That’s new.” He points to the handle. You have a small Sanrio keychain hanging from it. You’re surprised he noticed, but you nod excitedly.
“Hansol’s sister came to see him for the weekend. She got all of us little trinkets.”
Seungcheol hums. “She knows your favorite Sanrio character? That’s cute.”
You smile and nod again, more enthusiastically. “I’m sure Hansol told her….”
A thought enters your head. You tilt your head to the side in thought. “How did you know?”
Seungcheol blinks, then lets out a small laugh. “You’re not exactly subtle about it, sweetheart. It’s plastered all over your room.
Right. Your room. The room he was in because he slept with you in your bed. Your stomach twists and you swallow hard. He looked around your room? When? After waking up? While you were showering? The thought of Seungcheol being in your private space, saying all your little interests laid out everywhere makes your heart flutter. You’re very private about your space, both him and Jeonghan know this. You don’t think either of them have been in your room since they first helped you move in.
You watch Seungcheol from where your back is against the counter. He watches you. You remember that night as the air around you two holds its breath. He was so close, closer than anyone had been in a long, long time. But you bet it was normal for him, this physical intimacy. After all, he’s had a steady rotation of girls in his room for as long as you’ve known him.
Right. This is Choi Seungcheol. Popular, attractive Choi Seungcheol. Wildly out of your league Choi Seungcheol.
“I’m gonna….” You gesture to the door. There’s a knot in your throat, and you don’t think you can speak. Seungcheol blinks and nods, steps away so you can walk past him. Your fingers shake as you tug your shoes on and escape quickly through the front door.
You walk to campus alone, already in agreement with Seungkwan that you will meet him there. You’re grateful for it, because you can go through your jumble of thoughts silently, so you can try to address this deep, uneasy feeling right in the center of your chest. It’s a strange mix of dread and longing that leaves you with a strange emptiness inside, like a sinking hollow. You think, for the first time since you moved in, that maybe being around Choi Seungcheol wasn’t the best idea. Maybe this will ultimately be your unraveling.
The hollow feeling settles like a weight. You walk to class slowly.
You still arrive ten minutes early, but you don’t have to worry about distracting yourself, because Seungkwan is practically buzzing in his seat. You raise a curious eyebrow as you sit next to him, and he immediately turns to you, like he was waiting for you to show up.
“There’s a party.” He says. “In the frat Seokmin is a part of.”
You blink. “Your biology lab partner Seokmin?”
Seungkwan nods. His grin is so wide you’re surprised his face hasn’t split.
“I didn’t know he was in a frat.” You mumble, pulling your laptop out and setting it on your desk.
“Well, he is.” Seungkwan answers impatiently. “Anyway, he and I just finished wrapping up the end of semester project. And I guess he’s super happy about it, because he said we should stop by the frat this Friday night for some party they’re having.”
You eye Seungkwan, giving him an incredulous look.
“You? At a frat party?” Seungkwan really isn’t the type. But then you pause. “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”
Now Seungkwan has the decency to look a little sheepish. “I was hoping you would go with me.”
“No.”
Seungkwan immediately starts pleading, like he was expecting exactly this. Which wouldn’t be surprising. You despise parties. You had gone to a few at the very beginning of freshman year since you were so curious about college parties, and every single one of them without fail were horrific experiences. This was before you met Seungkwan and the guys. The people you were friends with at the time always got shitfaced, leaving you to pick up after them and get them home at the end of the night. The drinks there were usually awful unless you were bringing your own. And everyone was horny out of their minds, just chatting so they could hook up. All of this is turned up to a hundred when the party is at a frat, which this particular one will be.
“Ask Hansol.”
“He already said no.”
“Chan, then.”
“You know he’s not good with crowds. Listen,” he looks at you so earnestly it makes your heart squeeze, “I know you don’t like parties. But please, we have to do this. I’ve never been to one ever. First and last time, I promise. I’m just so curious.”
You hesitate. You understand where Seungkwan is coming from. You had the same curiosity as him way back then, and no matter how much you tell him that you already know it won’t be his cup of tea, he really needs to see it himself to swear off them like you. So you sigh painfully and nod, slightly placated by the fact that it makes Seungkwan cheer so loudly and hug you until you can’t breathe, promising he will treat you to lunch for the next two weeks.
Sounds like a good deal.
When you get back home that evening, Jeonghan is frying something on the stove. You seat yourself on the kitchen island, telling him about your day, because he’s always kind enough to ask.
“Oh, by the way.” You tack on. “I’m going to a party this Friday.”
That makes Jeonghan pause, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “A party? You?”
You sigh. “I know. Seungkwan was invited and he’s never been to one before so he kinda talked me into it. It’s at Sigma Tau Nu.”
Jeonghan looks even more shocked. He lets out a laugh. “A frat party.”
You nod.
He whistles low, turning back to his sizzling pan. “Seungcheol’s not gonna be happy.”
That makes you pause. You scowl at Jeonghan’s back. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head, not bothering to turn around again. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me. Why won’t Seungcheol be happy?”
Before Jeonghan can answer, another voice speaks up.
“I won’t be happy about what?”
You stiffen, turning to the kitchen doorway. You didn’t hear the front door at all. Seungcheol is covered in sweat, still in his gym clothes, face a little flushed. His gym bag hangs over his shoulder. You swallow tightly, looking away so you won’t stare. Jeonghan, however, has no qualms about speaking.
“She’s going to Sigma Tau Nu on Friday.”
Seungcheol’s head snaps to you, eyes wide. “What?”
You fidget. “Seungkwan was invited.”
“So?”
You can’t help but frown. “So, he’s my friend. I’m going with him.”
“Like hell you are.”
Your jaw drops. Jeonghan barks out a laugh. You want to strangle him, but you’re too shocked at how Seungcheol’s voice has hardened. In fact, his blatant and sharp refusal has only managed to irritate you.
“Why not?” You sound petulant.
Seungcheol is walking to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle. “Because that place is a cesspool.”
“You go there every weekend.” Your voice is accusatory. Something in Seungcheol’s face flickers.
“That’s different.”
The irritation in you is swelling now into more of an anger. You don’t appreciate his tone, or whatever superiority complex he has that makes him think it’s okay for him to go but not you.
“So you can go but I can’t?” Your voice is louder than before. Even Jeonghan pauses, turning to look at you both cautiously. “Why? I’m not good enough for your parties?”
Seungcheol’s face hardens, and you almost back down. He has never, ever, looked at you like that before. “You think that’s what this is about?”
“Looks like it.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it about?”
He huffs, annoyed. “I’m just saying. Sigma Tau Nu…. the guys there…. they aren’t good.”
“You’re a guy there.”
His face drops. It’s such a slight shift, but immediate, and his expression turns a muted and stoney smooth. His grip on his bottle tightens until the plastic crinkles a little, but his face is almost forlorn.
“I know.”
You don’t know what to say.
Seungcheol sighs, as if to break the heavy silence, hiking the bag he has on his shoulder a bit further up before walking past you to leave.
“Just don’t go, okay?”
You and Jeonghan are left standing in the kitchen after he’s gone, just staring at each other in the silence.
………………………………
“Seungcheol can fuck off.”
You roll your eyes, trying to keep a straight face as you apply finishing touches to yourself. But Seungkwan is not discouraged by your silence, continuing to rant on from where he’s sitting on your bed.
“No, seriously. Where does he get off telling you what to do?”
You sigh and shake your hair out, staring at yourself in the mirror. “He’s just looking out for me.”
That earns a scoff from your friend. “As if. More like he’s looking out for himself. He doesn’t want you to see what a sleazy, pervy bastard he is and how many girls he indulges when he goes out. Wants you to think he’s a good person.”
“He is a good person.” You turn to scowl at him. “He’s been nothing but kind to me.”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes. You keep going.
“Let it go, Kwannie. We’re going anyway. So it doesn’t matter.”
It really doesn’t, because you’re all dolled up already and ready to go. You’re in a plain black dress, nothing too fancy, thin straps and a flared out skirt. It’s from your freshman year, and to your dismay, it’s a little tighter on you at the bodice, but nothing that doesn’t fit, so you’re rolling with it. Seungkwan also made it a point to tell you twice that you look hot, so you’re taking that as a good indication.
“Ready?” He prompts, you nod.
“Remember our agreement. One hour. You get a feel of the place. Then we leave.”
He nods enthusiastically. You can’t help but smile.
The place is packed. You feel dread already when you and Seungkwan climb out of your cab, but your friend looks alarmingly apprehensive, enough for you to suck up your own negative feelings. You’re already here, might as well try and make this as enjoyable for Seungkwan as possible.
“Come on.” You take his arm, walking up the front steps and in through the open door. The music is so loud, the lights are dim enough that you’re worried about something spilling on your dress accidentally. Seungkwan has a death grip on your hand, and you try to navigate to the kitchen.
“Boo Seungkwan!” The voice is booming, so loud and bright, and it immediately catches both your and Seungkwan’s attention. From the relief on his face, you know instantly that this is Seokmin. He’s grinning wide, and draping an arm around his shoulder is another man with spiky blond hair and sharp eyes. They introduce themselves, Seokmin and his frat brother Soonyoung, and you do the same. Soonyoung watches you closely.
“I’ve never seen you here before.” He shouts over the music, leaning closer to you to speak. You think you would have heard him just fine even without it, but you suspect he is doing it on purpose to get close to you. This may not be your thing, but you’re not an idiot.
“I don't usually come to parties.” You reply, trying to be polite. Somewhere behind your back, Seokmin is putting drinks into plastic cups. You can see the exact path Soonyoung’s eyes take as they drag down your body, lingering on your chest. You almost want to sigh.
“Want a tour?” He offers. “I’ll show you around.”
You want to say no, but a tour would mean you and Seungkwan can see everything quickly and leave. So you nod and turn around, linking an arm with Seungkwan to pull him along. He’s got a cup in his hand, already half empty, and you want to groan. Drunk Seungkwan is almost impossible to deal with.
Soonyoung doesn’t seem perturbed. He just nods and gestures for you two to follow along. You make it through the seas of people in the huge house as he points and shouts names. You don’t even understand half of them, but you’re not particularly interested. Seokmin is trailing behind all of you, and when Seungkwan’s cup empties, he exchanges it for a new one. You wince. Seungkwan is a notorious lightweight. You play drinking games all the time, and he’s always the first one to tap out, leaning heavily on Hansol as he gets dragged out of your apartment. With the way his cheeks are flushing at a concerning rate, you know he’s getting to that point already.
Soonyoung occasionally grips your arm to steer you in the right direction. Seungkwan’s hold on you keeps increasing as you navigate through the house. Then, you’re in the living room, and your eyes find the large, sprawling couch pushing against the far wall, particularly, the man lounging on the corner of it.
He has a cup in his hand, arm thrown around a girl pressed to his side. On the arm of the couch next to him is a guy you vaguely recognise as his gym buddy. You watch him bring the cup to his lips and throw it back in one big gulp, shaking it at his friend when it’s empty, who just snorts and pours more in it from the bottle of clear liquid he’s holding.
His head turns to look at his glass, but his eyes meet yours instead. You see the exact moment he recognises you.
You feel it again, that hollow feeling in your chest, mixed with something else this time. You almost don’t recognise him. His hair is tousled, carelessly swept, his top is sleeveless and tight, silver chain hanging from his neck, pants baggy, legs sprawled without a care in the world. Your eyes are still on each other when the girl on his side leans in and whispers something in his ear, following it up with running her tongue up the side of his neck.
Bile rises in your throat. You look away.
Seungkwan has downed his glass, again, and Soonyoung is gesturing for you to follow him to some other part of the house. But the music is changing into something faster, and Seungkwan’s eyes widen with a gasp as he recognises it.
“This is the first song I know!” He exclaims. You want to snort at how excited he is. “Can we dance?”
Oh no. You open your mouth to protest, but Soonyoung nods enthusiastically and points to the dance floor not far off from where you are. You can feel Seungcheol’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head as Seungkwan tugs you along with him. Thankfully, Soonyoung doesn’t follow, because at that moment, he’s bombarded by another group of people. You’re left with Seungkwan only, which you prefer.
Except, Seungkwan is drunk, and pulling you close so you can sway together. You snort and indulge him, fully aware of how touchy he gets with alcohol in his system. He’s singing along to the song, hands on your waist, bobbing back and forth, side to side. You grin, laughing. You genuinely didn’t imagine yourself having a good time at this place, but being here with your friend is a little fun, though you would only begrudgingly admit that.
The song picks up, getting wilder, and you let yourself go to the music with Seungkwan. He’s laughing and grinning, turning you around so his back is against you. Bad idea, because as soon as you open your eyes, they meet heated, dark ones from across the room.
Seungcheol is watching, and he doesn’t look happy.
The girl by his side is now on her phone, tapping away. He’s not interested, raising his cup to his mouth and taking a long gulp while his stare is trained on you. Your heart pounds. You feel Seungkwan’s hands on your hips, your waist. There’s a voice in your head, and you listen to it, eyes fully on Seungcheol as you reach an arm up and behind you, running it through your friend’s hair.
Seungcheol’s face pinches. His lip curls in an ugly snarl. It catches you so off guard that you immediately turn back to Seungkwan, your heart pounding.
“I need air.” You shout over the music. “It’s too hot here.”
Seungkwan nods and points to the back of the house, past the staircase. You contemplate leaving your friend there. He’s having a good time, and you can let him dance a little before you start insisting that you should leave. Sliding glass doors take you into the patio overlooking the backyard. You take a deep breath.
The patio is less crowded, though there’s still people milling around. There’s a couple a few feet to your right, making out against the wall. You make a face and walk away from them. The cool air is working, clearing your head just a little. You wonder if there’s something in the hot, humid air inside that clouded your judgement, that made you look Seungcheol straight in the eye as you let your drunk friend sway you side to side. What did you want to achieve? Did you want to get a reaction out of him? Why? He doesn’t care about you that way, so what was the point?
Part of you is still annoyed at him because of the semi-argument in the kitchen. The other part is just…. sad.
“You came.”
You close your eyes. You were hoping he would leave you alone for the night.
“I did.” You reply.
Seungcheol stops right next to you, a little closer than you would like. You can feel the heat of his body. He doesn’t say anything, but he stays.
“Don’t worry, Seungkwan and I are just going to have one more drink and leave. I won’t….. disturb you much longer.”
He says your name, a tone of defeat in his voice. Your stomach twists. You turn to him, and for a brief second, your eyes meet his. He has that same look in them, that quiet desolation he had when he was with you in the kitchen. The heat from before, the simmering annoyance, has gone.
“Seungcheol.” Your throat tightens. Your chest is so hollow. “Just make sure to crash in your own bed this time. Okay?”
You turn and walk back into the house.
……………………………………
You don’t know the longest time you’ve gone without speaking to Seungcheol. You’ve never had any reason to count. You do now, and it has been seven days.
Seungkwan thanked you profusely for going with him to the party, vowed never to go again (that made you laugh), then bought you lunch for four days straight before you felt bad and just started paying for your own. You don’t think his experience was worth two weeks of comped meals, but you have a feeling he knows you’re bummed about something, so he keeps offering to pay.
You don’t even know why you’re bummed. You just are. And Seungkwan isn’t the only one who has noticed.
Jeonghan has been walking on eggshells with you too, watching you intently when you’re having a meal together, taking note of the fact that you leave to lock yourself in your room as soon as it becomes close to the time Seungcheol is due back home. It’s easy to avoid him because he himself makes no effort to talk to you either. It should make you glad, since it means you can dance around whatever this suffocating feeling between you two is. But it doesn’t. All you feel is more hollow, more crushed.
Something has changed between you, definitely for the worse. You regret going to that party every single day.
To Jeonghan’s credit, he never asks. You wonder if Seungcheol told him, but then you ask yourself what exactly there is to tell. Literally nothing happened. You don’t even know what to call that little stint on the dance floor, or the heavy way his eyes traveled over you. As for the girl he was with, you’re just upset because the man you have been pining for your whole life has a roster of romantic prospects outside of you. For so long, you had only known about it, like it was some far away entity, but seeing it with your own eyes, some unknown girl sprawled half on top of him, it broke something in you that you don’t know how to move on from. So while you grapple with your own mess of feelings, you just know you need to stay far, far away from him.
But seven days after your self-imposed Seungcheol ban, your roommate has apparently had enough, and he decides to break it. You hear a knock on your door and hum, expecting it to be Jeonghan asking about dinner or something. But instead, a head of thick brown hair pops in through your door.
“Can I come in?”
You're shocked for a good few seconds, before nodding and gesturing to him to do so. Seungcheol lumbers in, hesitating for a second before opting to sit on the chair in front of your desk, turning it around to face you. You’re still frozen in place, crosslegged on your bed, waiting for him to say something.
“I’m sorry.” He says.
You blink. “You didn’t do anything. What are you sorry for?”
He lets out a laugh, but it’s bitter and mirthless. “For everything. For all of it. For telling you not to go to that party. For going there myself and letting you see me like that. For even being like that….”
“Seungcheol.” You protest. “You didn’t do anything-”
“I did.” He cuts you off. “You don’t know it, but I did. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my drunk, stupid mind thought it was a good idea to end up in your room that night. That I somehow genuinely believed that I could wake up next to you and you would be mine.”
Your heart pounds. Blood roars in your ears.
“I remember all of it.” He whispers, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. “How I felt that night. How badly I just wanted to be with you. No drink was helping, no one…..” He laughs again, shakes his head as if admonishing himself.
“You know what my drunken plan originally was? I wanted to wake you up and finally just tell you how much I love you. But I was so drunk and exhausted that by the time I got to you I just ended up passing out on your bed.”
“And then the next morning. I was awake the second you first moved. And I didn’t want to let go. Call it brain fog, I don’t know. I hoped I could lie there forever and just…… hold you.”
You only break your eye contact from Seungcheol when your vision swims, getting wetter and more blurred.
“This isn’t funny.” Your voice shakes.
“I’m not joking.”
You take a deep breath, trying to gather your frantic thoughts. Never, never in your life did you expect this. You remember that morning again, how Seungcheol’s hand tightened on you, how your ass pressed hard against his-
“You were awake.” It isn’t really a question.
“I was.”
When your eyes meet his again, it’s different. Something sizzles, sharp and anticipatory, like the air around you is afraid to move. But Seungcheol isn’t. He stands up and walks closer to where you are sitting, one knee planting on the mattress, until he’s right in front of you. His eyes are like melting pots of brown, and the intensity in them takes your breath away.
“You felt it, right?” He whispers. “That’s what you do to me, baby. You turn me on so much.”
You can’t move even if you try. It feels like something has severed the connection between your brain and body. When Seungcheol leans in, you don’t resist. Your eyelids flutter when you feel his breath on the side of your neck, just like that morning. His lips brush just so over your skin.
“Cheol….”
He hums, shifts just a smidge, and his lips plant a chaste kiss under your ear. But you don’t say anything more. You don’t know if you can. You’re overwhelmed, both physically and mentally, and the smell of the cherry and sandalwood in his cologne is making your mind foggy.
“Let me show you.” He whispers. “Let me show you how much I love you, just like I wanted to that night, just like I dreamed of for so long.”
You’re human, after all. And you’re weak for him. You’ve always been weak for him, and that’s why you’ve let all of it happen. Him in your bed, you at his party. So you turn your head and let your lips brush over his. You can almost feel his shaky sigh just before he closes the distance between you.
It’s rushed from the start, like he’s desperate. You feel the same, hands reaching up to cup his face, your heart squeezing when you realise that this is finally happening. You’re kissing Seungcheol, the guy you’ve been deeply enamoured with for as long as you’ve known him. The guy you never, ever thought you would have in this way, but still imagined it in the depths of the night when there was no one but you and your fingers. He was here now, on the same bed that you thought filthy things about him in, kissing you like he needs to steal the air from your lungs. He tilts his head, lips sliding over yours, capturing your bottom lip between his. He nibbles softly and it makes you moan.
The sound does something to him, because he curses brokenly and reaches for you. Strong hands grip your waist and tug, pulling you closer. Your legs scramble to find purchase, settling on either side of his as he pulls you into his lap. His tongue slides into your mouth, hot and wet, and you can feel something flutter right in the base of your stomach. Your panties are already damp, but from what you can feel, he’s straining through his sweatpants too. You whine into him.
“Cheol…”
He groans, hands digging into your flesh. They slide under your shirt to run over your bare skin. You instinctively arch into him.
“Love it when you call me that.” He rasps. “Only you do. Only you.”
So you say it again, whisper it into his mouth while his tongue is in yours, and you can feel how his force increases, how he unravels just a little bit more. His hands under your shirt get more frantic, and finally he pushes up, peeling it off your body. You let him, but when the cold air hits your skin, you realise you weren’t wearing a bra.
“Fuck.” He curses softly, eyeing your half naked body. You feel your skin heat under his gaze, squirming a little.
“Beautiful. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
No, I’m not. Your mind immediately supplies. Because it’s true. You can’t help but think of all the girls he’s had like this, in his lap while he runs his tongue down the column of their throats, nipping here and there. He probably feels you stiffen, because he pulls away and looks you in the eyes, his expression cautious.
“What’s wrong?”
You swallow tightly and shake your head, leaning forward to kiss him again. But he pulls his head back before you can, watching you closely.
“Tell me, sweetheart. What is it?”
Your heart squeezes. You try to arrange your thoughts and look for words. You feel Seungcheol’s hands run up and down your back and sides comfortingly.
“I just don’t want this to be a one time thing.” You finally say, because you don’t want to tell him how much doubt you have. How deeply ingrained it is within you that you can never be with someone like him. You’re almost halfway certain that even this, what is happening right now, is some extreme exhaustion-induced dream and you will wake up to a cold, empty bed, but you don’t want to think about that.
Seungcheol’s eyes dart between your own. His face is soft, open, like he’s coming to the slow realisation of what you mean. When he sighs, you feel his breath on your skin. He leans forward so his forehead is pressed to yours. You don’t dare break your stare, even if it makes you go a little cross-eyed.
“I would never do that to you.” He whispers. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”
Your breath hitches. Your hands on his shoulders tremble.
“I dream about you every night. I lay in my bed and I think of having you next to me. But I never did anything about it. You’ve always felt so far away. Like I can’t dare touch you or you will be tainted.”
Your eyebrows furrow. You watch as Seungcheol’s gaze dims into something like resignation.
“But seeing you at that party with Seungkwan, having you see me like that.” He shakes his head, a miniscule movement. “I knew something had to change. And it had to come from me. Whatever illusion I had in my head about us being just roommates, and me being happy with that, it wasn’t working.”
His hold tightens on you with that last sentence, hands running over your bare back again. His fingertips slide under the waistband of your shorts, just an inch, teasing you. You arch into him.
Seungcheol’s eyes travel to your lips and stay there. The air around you feels like it’s charging up again.
“Saw your little friend draped all over you, and I couldn’t stand it. Why does he get to touch you but I can’t?”
Your lips brush again. Your arms wind around his shoulders. “You can.”
“Hm?”
You can feel your cheeks heat. “You can touch me.”
Something flickers in Seungcheol’s eyes. “Where, baby?”
Baby. A shiver runs down your spine. “Everywhere.”
Your lips meet again. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. You feel his hand cup the back of your head, guide your movements like he wants them to, and it goes straight to your core, tightening it. You know you’re soaking your shorts, and you realise belatedly that you’re not wearing underwear either. Embarrassment hits you fleetingly, but before you can think about it more, Seungcheol is pushing forward to lay you on the bed, your hair sprawling on the pillow. He doesn’t break the kiss even once, fitting his hips between your legs and grinding into your heat. You gasp and cry out.
“You make the prettiest sounds.” He groans. “So responsive. I haven’t even done anything yet. Haven’t even touched you the way I want to.”
But he has. He’s all over you, taking over your every sense, infiltrating you until you can feel him thrumming in the hollows of your bones. You arch into him when he nips at your neck again, teeth digging in teasingly. If he leaves marks, so be it. You will wear them proudly. How long have you spent fantasising about having his lips on you? And here he is now, trailing kisses down until he reaches your chest. His tongue peeks out, smooths over your left nipple so that it is laved in his spit. He blows air on it, making you gasp. You wouldn’t see his smirk if it weren’t for the fact that a dimple cleaves through his right cheek. He pops your nipple in his mouth and sucks.
Seungcheol works you over while you whine and moan. Your hands meet his hair, running through the short ones on the back of his head before burying your fingers into it and tugging. He hums into your skin, and you can feel the vibration. It makes you clench desperately, making your hips buck.
“Cheol, please…”
He pops off your nipple after one last hard suck. You’re already taking in big, heaving breaths, like you’re losing your senses. You feel his tongue run up your sternum.
“What do you want, baby?”
You squirm, buck up again so that it brushes over his crotch. He chuckles.
“Impatient little thing. All you have to do is ask nicely.”
You blink through wet eyes, meeting his half-lidded, heated gaze. “I did. I said please.”
He groans. “Say it again, then.”
You make sure you’re looking him right in the eye as you buck up again. “Please.”
Seungcheol’s fingers hook in your shorts and he tugs them down. His face twists when he realises you’re not wearing underwear. He curses long and low, pushing your legs open to peer down at the mess between them.
“Dirty girl.” He moans. “No panties?”
You shake your head. “I don’t wear them to bed.”
His eyes widen as he thinks back.
“That night….”
You know exactly what he is referring to. The night he spent in your room, spooning you. You shake your head.
“Fucking hell.” His lips crash into yours, near feral as he devours you. You whimper and let him, hooking one leg over his waist.
“Could’ve fucked you back then, right? Just pushed your shorts aside and put my cock in you. Bet you would’ve loved that.”
You would, in your deep, dark fantasies. The thought of just being used by him is so hot that it lights your nerves on fire. You tug his shirt, having had enough, and he immediately obliges, pulling it off. Your mouth waters as you eyes the large expanses of smooth skin stretched over his muscles. You’ve never seen Seungcheol shirtless around the house, he’s very careful about it. The most you have seen is his arms through those tight tanks he loves so much. You run your hands over him as he goes back to licking and nipping at your neck, hooking his thumbs in his sweatpants so he can take them and his boxers off in one go.
His cock springs up and hits his navel. He’s thick, so much that it makes you suck it a long breath. All the blood that has rushed to it has left it aching hard and throbbing, shiny at the head with precum. You’re just wondering how you can even take it all the way in when he slides down your body once again, this time going further than your breasts, until he’s settling between your open legs. Your face flames, fighting the urge to close your thighs when he stares at you like that, licking over his bottom lip.
He runs his fingers down your soft, heated folds, one on each side in a V-shape. He spreads his index and middle fingers, opening you up.
“Such a pretty pussy.” He mumbles, leaning down to barely dance his tongue through your slit. Your legs jerk at the feeling. He’s holding you open, which makes his touch hit deeper, in more sensitive places. You sigh when he flattens his tongue over you finally, licking a thick stripe. His hands position themselves on your inner thighs, keeping you open and his head shifts side to side, running his lips and tongue over every part of you.
He’s amazing at this.
He’s eating you out like he’s starving for it, eyelids fluttering, nearly rolling up, and just the sight of Seungcheol like this, face progressively getting more and more flushed and he leans down and sticks his tongue as far as it can go inside your cunt, has you shaking and crying, your high approaching embarrassingly fast. You want to sob, tell him to stop, that it’s too much all at once, but it feels so unbelievably good that you won’t dare, locking your legs over his broad shoulders, hands fisting the sheets as you wail and cum with no warning. His hold on you is iron strong, holding you in place and not stopping the rapid flicks of his tongue until tears slide down your face and you push his head away. He parts from you with a loud, filthy slurp, licking his lips. He’s breathing hard, but not as hard as you while you’re shaking from your orgasm.
He uses his index and middle finger to wipe the lower half of his face, his chin, the line of his jaw. Then he shifts forward to kneel between your trembling legs again. He taps the two slicked up fingers on your mouth.
“Open up, baby.”
You do, lapping your tongue over the digits as they slide into your mouth, making sure not to break eye contact with him. He watches heatedly as you suck on his fingers.
“Jesus.” He breathes. “Why’d I stay away from you for so long?”
He pulls them out when they’re slick with your spit, reaching down and immediately prodding at your entrance. You sigh and buck up. He smirks, a sexy sight that you barely have time to process before he’s sliding both fingers inside you at once. You gasp and arch, taken aback by the sudden intrusion. He’s already curling his fingers, slowly pumping them in and out.
“God.” You whimper, instinctively reaching down to grab his arm. He doesn’t mind, letting you hold it as he fingers you. You feel his muscles shift with every movement under your palms. As he works you open, he occupies his mouth with your neck and shoulder again, nipping and kissing. You realise Seungcheol is a little bit of a biter, not that you’re complaining.
You’re barely down from your last orgasm, so this one takes an even shorter time to build up. You moan with every ram of his fingers into you, he’s murmuring little encouragements and praises into your skin. His voice is rougher, breathier, and it acts as the catalyst that hurtles you over the edge again. This orgasm is just as intense, if not more, leaving your limbs boneless and your head empty. Your breaths come out chopped and heavy as he slows down, needling out the last remnants of your high.
“Gorgeous.” He hums. “I could do that for hours. Just make you fall apart over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”
Your insides twist. Seungcheol shuffles until he’s seated fully between your legs again. He watches your cunt flutter and twitch, already used and abused. You watch him wrap a large hand around his thick girth, jerking himself harshly a few times. He slaps his shaft over your slit. You gasp and jerk. His eyes shoot up to you and he smirks teasingly.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Too much?”
You vehemently shake your head. “N-no. Want your cock.”
He hums, running the swollen, leaking head through your folds. He rubs it back and forth over your clit. You whimper.
“Sure about that?”
You nod and buck your hips up. It catches against your opening, making you gasp. “Please, Cheol.”
That does it for him, because he’s lining himself up and leaning down over you, pressing his forehead to yours before pushing forward. Your jaw goes slack as he carves his way in through your gummy walls, inch by inch, until you feel his pelvis meet yours.
“God, you’re still tight as hell.” He grits. “After taking my fingers like that too. Why didn’t you loosen up, baby? Wanted to stay nice and snug for me?”
His words are filthy, and never something you ever imagined coming from his mouth, in his delicious, raspy voice. You don’t say anything, brain wiped clean as he chooses that moment to start thrusting. It feels divine, he’s so thick that he stretches and hits all your spots without even angling his hips any which way. His tip nudges your cervix just slightly with every thrust, a fluttering sensation ensuing in your stomach. Everything is so much, so intense, that it’s hard to even breathe. Your eyelids fight to close, but you keep them open, because no way in hell would you miss the sight before you right now.
The muscles in Seungcheol’s arms flex and shift, hands planted on either side of your head to hold himself up. His skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat that shines under the lights of your bedroom. His torso undulates, precise and well aimed thrusts that hit just the right spots. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, face pinched in arousal and focus. His hair sticks to his temples, the rest is messed up because of how much you’ve run your hands through it. The apples of his cheeks are colored a lovely shade of pink that makes him look sensual, his eyelashes curling over his skin when he closes his eyes.
You wish you could burn this image in your mind forever.
He’s watching you just like you’re watching him, and you see the exact moment his face softens.
“Look at you.” He coos. “So pretty. So sexy like this. I imagined this, you know? When you had Seungkwan all over you, I imagined you under me.”
You whimper. The train of thought of last week’s party somehow riles him up again. His thrusts get harder, your skin stinging slightly with every ram of his hips into yours.
“And then there was fucking Soonyoung-” Seungcheol punches out. “Eyeing you like a piece of meat. If he got his hands on you, I would break every bone in his body.”
You mewl and shake your head vigorously. You can barely speak, but you’re desperate for him to know. “There’s no one, Cheolie. Only you. I only want you.”
You claw at his shoulders, tugging him down when you’re unable to resist, planting a searing kiss on his mouth. He groans into you.
“That’s right. Mine. My girl, my body, my cunt. All this is mine.”
You feel his hand sneak between your bodies so he can toy with your clit. It makes you cry out, already so sensitive from being toyed with.
“I’m not cumming until I feel your pussy milk it out of me.” He grunts, thrusts getting sloppier, and you keen. He’s determined to get you there one more time, and with how wound up you are, you know you will give it to him.
He cums at the same time as you, your walls contracting around his sloppy final thrusts. Your sweaty bodies writhe together, pressing into each other and on the bed, his hands digging into your hips and thighs while you rake your nails down his back. Finally, he buries himself deep and stills.
You sigh as tension slowly drains from your body. Seungcheol takes a moment before pulling out, flopping down next to you with a grunt and running a hand through his sweaty hair. You watch him and he eyes you back, a small smile crossing his face. He grips your arm and tugs, maneuvering you so you’re on your side, his front against your back. You giggle. It’s the same position, except this time, you’re both naked.
Silence descends over both of you, your eyelids heavy with slowly encroaching sleep. You’re roused when you hear Seungcheol softly speak.
“I meant it, you know?” He mumbles. “That I’m in love with you. Been in love with you for a while now.”
You can’t help your giddy smile. You rest your hand on the back of his and squeeze. “I have been too, for a while.”
You can feel his smile on the back of your neck. “Good.”
You fall asleep to his lips laying careful kisses on your shoulder.
Summary: your relationship with Mingyu is exposed by his members.
Wc: 596
Warnings: none :)
MASTERLIST
~
He swears it was meant to be chill.
That’s the lie Mingyu tells himself as soon as you show up at his apartment, smiling at him like you always do. Best friends. That’s what you’ve been for years. Comfortable. Easy. The kind of closeness that never raised eyebrows because you fit together so naturally people just assumed.
Until recently.
Until late nights stretched longer. Until his hand started lingering at your waist without him even realising he’d done it.
Now you’re here, sitting on his couch, knees tucked under you, rambling about something stupid one of the members said earlier, and Mingyu is barely hearing you because your laugh keeps pulling his attention back to your mouth.
“You’re not even listening,” you accuse, nudging his thigh with your foot.
He exhales a laugh. “I am. Mostly.”
You roll your eyes but smile anyway. You lean closer, maybe to steal a fry off the plate between you, maybe just because you’re comfortable like that, and suddenly your faces are inches apart.
Neither of you moves away.
“You know,” you murmur, voice quieter now, “we’re really bad at pretending nothing’s changed.”
His heart kicks hard. “Yeah,” he admits softly. “We are.”
It’s you who closes the distance.
The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s slow, almost tentative, like you’re both checking whether this is real. But the second your lips settle against his, something clicks.
Like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Mingyu’s hand comes up instinctively under your hoodie, hand splaying against your waist, pulling you closer.
You make a quiet sound against his mouth, and that’s it. That’s the end of restraint.
You shift, knees sliding over his thighs as you straddle him, palms bracing against his chest. He gasps into the kiss, hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.
The kiss deepens—still messy, still breathless, but unhurried. Familiar in the way only something built on years of trust can be.
Your weight settles fully into his lap, warmth everywhere, and Mingyu tilts his head back against the couch as you kiss him harder. He’s smiling into it, dazed, hands roaming just enough to make your breath hitch. It’s intimate in a way that feels dangerous.
Not because it’s wrong, but because it feels right.
Too right.
You’re distracted enough that neither of you hears the door unlock.
The sound is faint. Easy to miss.
“What the—”
Your eyes fly open.
Mingyu freezes beneath you.
You twist just in time to see three very familiar figures standing in the doorway, grocery bags dangling forgotten at their sides. Seungkwan’s mouth is actually hanging open. DK looks like he’s buffering. Vernon blinks once. Twice.
Dead silence.
You’re very aware of your position. On Mingyu. Hands under your hoodie. His lips slightly swollen.
“Oh,” Seungkwan finally says, eloquent as ever. “So that’s what you’ve been up to.”
Mingyu groans, dropping his head back against the couch. “This is not how I wanted you guys to find out.”
You slide off him—reluctantly—and stand there, cheeks burning, smoothing your hoodie like that’ll fix anything. “We were gonna tell you,” you blurt. “Just—maybe not like this.”
DK squints between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”
Mingyu glances at you. “Not long,” he says. “But… yeah. We’re dating.”
Seungkwan stares for another second, then snorts. “I knew it. I knew best friends don’t look at each other like that.”
Vernon just nods slowly. “Makes sense, actually.”
The tension breaks, laughter bubbling out of you before you can stop it.
Choi seungcheol x foreign reader content: fluff, domestic cheol, slice of life, established relationship Synopsis: cheol as a bf to a foreign reader.
you're three years younger than him, and somehow that's enough for him to be hella protective over you. he never brings it up directly, but it shows when you're out late, asks if you ate properly, or insists on walking you home even when you swear you are fine.
you came to korea for work on an exchange program, originally just temporary. you work as a teacher, counting down the months on your contract at first. you had a plan to leave once it ended. meeting seungcheol quietly rearranged those plans without either of you realizing it.
he's immediatly fascinated by where you're from. not in a surface level way, but genuinely curious. asking about daily life, traditions, food, the way people talk, event the little things you think are boring.
he keeps saying he wants to visit your country one day, but the way he says it sounds more like a promise than a thought. he asks about seasons, places you loved growing up, what the streets look like at night, and where you'd take him first if he ever went with you.
you cook for him alot. at first, its just simple dishes from home, unsure if he would even like them. he does. too much. he always asks or seconds and casually mentions it to the members like its the best meal he's ever had, even ragging when you're not around.
he especially loves when you explain what the dish means to you, when you ate it as a kid, who used to make it for you, why it smells the way it does.
whenever he's tired from schedules, he asks if you can cook "that thing you made last time". he never remembers the name just the way it ade him relax.
you tease him about being dramatic, but he swears your food heals him better than sleep. he'll say it half joking, half serious, as he reaches for another bite.
he likes showing you korean food in return, making it a competition at first, insisting his choice are better, until it turns into something softer.
he aks about your language a lot, tries to repeat the words after you, sometimes he likes to mess up on purpose just to hear you correct him cuz he thinks you sound so hot when you speak your native language.
Even tho your stay in korea was supposed to be temporary, but you found yourself renewing your contract without thinking twice.
