if this room was vernon, i wouldn't even notice

𓂃 ོ𓂃 a flying bird leaves no trace. 2001

[ver8ho]

🫧 meiji. 24. filo. she/her.

🫧 18+ blog. strictly mdni. 🔞

🫧 carat since '23 💎

🫧 main bias/es: wonwoo, jeonghan, vernon, minghao

🫧 main wreckers: seungcheol, mingyu, dokyeom

🫧 #meiji's choice – fic recs :)) most of these are smuts sooo 💋

seungcheol ⟡ jeonghan ⟡ joshua ⟡ junhui ⟡ hoshi ⟡ wonwoo ⟡ woozi ⟡ dokyeom ⟡ mingyu ⟡ minghao ⟡ seungkwan ⟡ vernon ⟡ dino

🫧 #meiji's pick 🩷 - peak through my fave reads !

🫧 my top song rn:

[sluttywonwoo]

dirty reflection || hvc x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this is for @junsol happy birthday tiff!!

Masterlist

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Vernon, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Vernon let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Vernon raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Vernon wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from rehearsal and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: I don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: vernon knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done a number of times before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Vernon flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!" You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication. “We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Vernon’s eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Vernon said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.”

You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Vernon nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Vernon asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lyrics to work over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Vernon grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Vernon had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Vernon set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Vernon gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Vernon didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“H-hansol,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Vernon had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Vernon’s cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Vernon began to hum to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond and you thought back to all of the colors he had dyed his hair before.

It was brown now, with remnants of the previous black still fading, but he had gone blond once before. You still remembered how shocked you had been when he came home from the salon that day.

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Vernon moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Vernon’s lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Vernon clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Vernon smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Hansol kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Hansol.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Vernon brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Vernon grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Vernon weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Vernon as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Vernon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Vernon’s. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

happy birthday again tiff!! love u, mean it <3 (lmk what you thought i always appreciate feedback)

shoot me an ask if you'd like to be added to my taglist

[eomayas]

08:42 • ksy

pairing: non-idol!soonyoung x f!reader, established relationship

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!, fluff

synopsis: morning sex (and kink discovery) with soonyoung

warnings: slight daddy kink, p in v, handjob, unprotected s*x, fingering, reader calls soonyoung an ‘asshole’ twice, soonyoung is very cheeky. dialogue heavy!

a/n: had lots of fun writing this! the idea was super random but i thought it worked well for my hoshibae

“i have to work,” you mange to pull yourself out of soonyoungs hold, but not out of his reach as a slap is delivered to your ass. you flip him off and pad over to his dresser, and dig through your designated drawer that he emptied out for you a few weeks ago.

“call out,” he quips, and this time you roll your eyes. you glance at him through the mirror, a lazy smirk on his face as he lies sprawled out in his bed. the sheets are draped over him haphazardly, strategically drawn over his hips but exposing the rest of his toned body. it’s tempting, soonyoung in bed, ready to have his way with you, but you really have to go to work.

“how will i eat? pay rent?” you ask, placing your folded clothes on top of his dresser and spinning around to face him.

“i’ll take care of you.”

you lift an eyebrow. “you’ll be my sugar daddy?” you’re teasing, but you don’t miss the way he shifts in the bed. soonyoung curls his arm behind his head, and you so badly want to grab your phone to take a picture of the sight before you.

“are you going to call me daddy?” his cheeks redden as he asks, and you smirk at him, leaning against the dresser.

“that depends; how much are you going to spend on me?” he smiles and sits up straighter in the bed, the sheets bunching up around his hips. your eyes scan the room and find his discarded underwear at the foot of the bed.

“as much as it takes for you to call me ‘daddy’,” he answers, a giddy smile on his face. you roll your eyes.

“i want some numbers.”

“name your price.”

you tilt your head. “i think ill go to work,” you say, shutting the dresser and spinning around to look at him. you open your mouth to make another comment, but it dies on your tongue when he raises his arms over his head to stretch, muscles in his arms and stomach tightening with the movement. he’s tempting, sitting in bed with nothing but a light sheet covering his hips. it’s enough to make you want to be a few minutes late to work.

soonyoung catches you staring, sees the resolve dying within you and smirks. “your loss,” he says, slipping out of bed, unsheathing his nude body with confidence that makes you instinctively lean against the dresser. he saunters into the bathroom, catching your eye in the mirror with a wink before disappearing around the corner to the toilet.

you can’t help but follow after him, stepping into the bathroom and avoiding looking at him even as he flushes the toilet and turns towards you, his entire body on full display. you reach into the shower and turn the dial, adjusting the temperature once the stream begins. you start undressing, casting a glance in the direction of the mirror to look at soonyoung, who’s eyes are already on you. you blush, and play it off by looking away from him and reaching behind you to unhook your bra. “you’re staring,” you comment, letting the garment drop to the floor before you step out of your underwear.

“you’re hot,” he says plainly, the way somebody would say that the sky is blue, or that 2+2 is four. you just snort and step into his shower, sliding through glass door shut.

when soonyoung doesn’t immediately slip inside after you, you pull it back open. “are you getting in?” he reappears in the bathroom with a grin on his face, and you back out of the way to let him in. soonyoung immediately crowds into you, arm snaking around your waist as he pulls you into a hot kiss. soonyoung slips his tongue into your mouth with ease, and you let him just as readily. his hips press into yours, and you arch away from his mouth when you feel his member against your thigh.

soonyoung chases after your lips with his own, whining when you gently push his face away from yours. “i actually need to shower,” you say, but you press your chest against his own and skate your nails up his biceps.

swinging you around, you shriek when soonyoung plants you directly in line of the stream of water. “you’re an ass,” you say as he squirts body wash into his palm and rubs them together before planting them on your backside.

“and yours is my favorite,” he says, a toothy smile adorning his lips. he rubs soap into your skin, gently kneading your flesh as he goes. soonyoung works his hands up your body, working the soap into your stomach and up between the valley of your breasts. you watch him with parted lips and low eyelids, wetness growing between your thighs each time he drags his palms across your body.

palming your breasts, soonyoung softly massages the flesh and you lick your lips. “don’t get cute,” you mutter, a quiet gasp leaving your lips when he gently pinches your nipples until they peak. you press your thighs together and soonyoung continues rubbing your breasts, his dick growing harder with each quiet sound you make, and as your chest gets sudsier.

“fuck, i could come just looking at you like this,” he says shamelessly, groping your chest greedily. his dick is hard and heavy, the tip bright red. you glance down and grab ahold of his dick, and begin pumping him. soonyoung grunts and his hips buck into you, one of his hands leaving your chest to brace himself against the shower wall. “shiiit.”

soonyoung hangs his head as you jerk him off, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he grunts and curses, your name spilling from his lips in a choked moan when you massage his balls with your other hand. “ch-chill,” he captures you lips in an open mouthed kiss, his breathing labored.

your breasts are forgotten about as you keep working him out, and you grow weaker and weaker with each whine you pull out of him. “e-e-enough,” soonyoung stammers, body curling into yours in an attempt to get away from you. his release is right in front of him, but if he’s going to finish its going to be because of you pussy, not your hand.

“you’re no fun,” you pout, adjusting the angle of the shower head to rinse the soap off of your chest. soonyoung keeps himself upright by leaning against the wall and watches as you rinse off his artwork with heavy eyes. “can you fuck me?” you ask him, voice sweet and innocent as if you didn’t just ask him that lewd question.

the corner of soonyoungs lip curls upwards. he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into another hot kiss, his hands sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. he turns you away from the water and backs you up into the far wall of the shower. soonyoung spreads your ass cheeks apart and slips his fingers towards your entrance. “call out,” he groans against your mouth when he feels how wet you are, biting your bottom between his teeth.

“you want to be called ‘daddy’ that bad?” you quip, shuddering when he slips two fingers into you. you clutch onto his shoulders and press against him. “d-didn’t know you were into that.” you let out a moan when he drags his fingers out of you and presses against your clit.

soonyoung skates his lips across your jaw and down your neck before sucking a hickey into your skin. “asshole,” he fucks his fingers into in the form of an apology. “i-im n-never call—fuck!” you lurch into him, raising up on your toes as he rubs quickly at your clit. your legs begin to shake and you dig your nails into his skin to get a better hold against him, your mouth near his ear mewling out his name.

“hmm?” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. you can’t even work up the ability to call him an asshole for the third time, because pressure builds and builds in your stomach until it becomes too much, and you release all over his fingers. “that’s it, baby. that’s what i thought.”

“fuck you.”

“i’m trying.”

soonyoung spins you around and presses you against the wall before tugging you back by the hips and making you arch. you splay your palms flat against the the tile and suck in an anticipatory breath. “i love you, by the way,” he says, kissing your shoulder. you smile, cheeks tinging pink, snd glance at him over your shoulder.

“of course you do,” you reply, groaning when he drops his hand onto your ass with a smack. you push back against him, urging him to either stick it in or to do it again—the choice is up to him, and either are enough to get you off for a second time with how turned on you feel.

“say it,” soonyoung presses, teasing your entrance with the head of his dick. it’s a bit surprising to know that he’s into the whole ‘daddy’ thing. you don’t really have any opinions about it, besides that it feels a bit cheesy, but you’ll try anything once with him—but no before making it harder on him (no pun intended).

“it.”

he scoffs and teases your clit this time, your mouth dropping open. “say it,” he rubs his hand over your ass before slapping it again, this time a bit harder than the last. it stings in the best way, and you let it be known by moaning out a breathy “fuck”. soonyoung draws his bottom lip in between his teeth, ready to give in and just fuck you so you don’t get fired, but he really wants to hear you say it just once. “if you’re really turned off by it, i’ll drop it. but if not, then i won’t fuck you until you say it.”

you don’t want to lie to him just so he can fuck you, but you really can’t bring yourself to say it and mean it. soonyoung is your baby, your lover, your person, but daddy? you don’t even know how to take that seriously. “daddy, fuck me,” you try, ready to burst out into laughter the moment it leaves your lips.

it makes his cock twitch despite your flat tone. “say it like you mean it.”

“what does that even mean?” you bark, looking over your shoulder at him. when you see the look on his face, the way he holds his cock that’s leaking with precum in one hand, you sigh and turn back around. you push your hips back and make your voice as whiny as possible. “daddy, i need you.”

you don’t know why that does it for him, but he sinks himself deep inside of you in one smooth go. you whisper out his name as he stretches you out, your entire body feeling like he’s splitting you open. “s-soonie,” you whimper as he pulls out and slams back into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“fuck, you are so tight,” soonyoung groans, putting hand on the back of your neck to have full control of you. you cunt squeezes around him like you’re trying to suck him in deeper and simultaneously keep him out. he keeps on bullying his way into your cunt, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “i’d take care of you even if you had two jobs.” he pants. you want to laugh, but when you open your mouth you only cry out his name.

soonyoung let’s go of your neck to grab onto your inner thigh, and lifts of your leg to fuck into you at different angle. “right there!” you cry out, chest arching into the cold tile.

“i love you so much,” he whines, eyebrows knitting together as he stares down at where you two connect. the tip of his dick presses into that spongy part inside of you and has you squeezing your eyes shut. “quit your job and let me fuck you all day.” he cries out, biting down on his bottom lip as his resolve begins to shatter with each thrust.

“fuck your job,” he rambles on, hips rutting into you quickly, his previous rhythm lost. you can only moan out a string of curses, legs starting to feel like jello. you definitely will be limping later, if the hickey wasn’t already enough embarrassment. “fuuuuck, i’m close.” soonyoung whimpers.

soonyoung let’s go of your legs and supports you by firmly holding onto both of your hips. he yanks you back onto his cock, moans echoing off the shower walls as you cunt spasms around him, your release mere moments away. “shitshitshit,” you cry, gasping when he pulls your back flush against his chest and holds you by the throat, his grip firm but loose so you can breathe. “ah!” he wraps his arm around your middle and prods at your clit with his middle finger. he rubs your sensitive nub until you’re coming undone on top of him, your cunt clamping down on him and making it nearly impossible for him to move underneath you.

ropes of his come shoot inside of you moments later, his hips stilling and a whine of your name leaving his lips as he reaches his climax. he pulls the two of you back under the stream of water, removing the hand that’s on your throat to make the water cooler. your eyes fly open when the water hits you, and you untangle yourself from soonyoung, frowning when he’s no longer inside of you. “fuck, i am so late,” you complain, but you spin around and pull him down into a long kiss.

“thank you,” he breathes once you pull apart, wiping water out of his eyes. “for, you know.”

“as long as you’re happy.”

“well, i realized it’s not really my thing. you’re just hot.”

you smile at him and give him another quick peck. “good, because you were moaning like a little bitch in my ear.”

[ver8ho]

its raining and i fucking love this 😭

[eomayas]

21:34 • jww

pairing: nonidol!wonwoo x f!reader, established relationship

synopsis: reader misses wonwoo and is bad at showing it

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! fluff & angst

warnings: p in v, pwp, riding, praise, swearing, mentions of weed. wonwoo is smoker and your neighborhood pharmacist

wonwoo comes in dressed in his typical attire: black, baggy joggers, a loose black tshirt that’s about two sizes too big for him, a black beanie, and a large black jacket. everything he wears is black, including his shoes and socks—you wouldnt be shocked if his boxers were black too.

he’s late, so when you greet him it’s stiff, and he smells like cigarettes, which annoys you further. “hey, baby,” he mumbles, pressing you tight against his muscular body as he snakes an arm around your waist.

“hey,” you say, turning your face away from him to not smell the cigarettes. wonwoo follows after your lips, holding you tighter against him to get to your mouth. he tries to give you a kiss, but you turn your face from him again, and he frowns.

“give me a kiss,” he says, but it’s more of a demand. you look up into his eyes and try not to crack, a light tremor coursing through your body. wonwoo looks down the slope of his nose at you and raises an eyebrow, daring you to pull away from him again. you place a quick, chaste kiss on his lips before slipping out of his grasp and heading back to your previous spot on the couch.

wonwoo can tell something is bothering you, but to save for an argument, he lets it go and follows you into the living room. he slips off his coat and hangs it on the back of a chair and kicks off his shoes, lining them up neatly beside it. you watch him out of the corner of your eye, letting out a quiet sigh when he starts to pull everything out of his pockets: phone(s), lighter, cigarettes, and keys.

wonwoo sees you watching him and gives you a small smile before taking a seat next to you, stretching an arm over the back of the couch with the intent for you to cuddle into his side. when you don’t, he holds his tongue to refrain from asking you why. something is wrong, and he guesses you’re probably annoyed with something he did, or didn’t do, like not answer the phone when you called, or miss a date. if it were something as big as missing a date, though, he’s sure he’d never hear the end of it, so he chalks it up to something little, like an unanswered phone call.

it’s not just one single phone call, it’s multiple. it’s him not coming over when he says he’s on his way, or him coming over much later than you’re expecting. it’s him coming over smelling like cigarettes, and sometimes weed, more often, when you’ve explicitly told him you hate the smell. it’s the excuses the next day; he was busy, he was working, he got caught up. you just miss him, and wish he’d show that he cares, or something.

wonwoos phone rings—his other phone—and he glances at it before sending it to voicemail. he taps on his phone for a second, and then it buzzes in his lap. “fuck me,” he mutters, putting the phone up to his ear and leaning against the back of the couch. you fold your arms over your chest and huff out a sigh, leaning away from him and into the cushion. “yeah… nah, not tonight… i’m with my girl man, not tonight… alright. hit me tomorrow—bye.” he hangs up and glances over at you. “babe.”

“hmm?”

“you alright?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. you nod and he presses again.

“won, im fine,” you say and he only lets out a heavy breath in response, leaning back into the cushions and biting down on his jaw.

wonwoo tríes to press you again a few minutes later, his frustration with your silence and dismissal seeping through his pores. “fuck this,” he grunts, springing up from your couch.

you frown as he grabs his jacket, shrugging it on and pulling his beanie. “where are you going?” you ask, sitting up.

wonwoo scoffs. “home, since you don’t want me here,” he grabs his belongings off of the table and shoves them in his pockets, yanking a cigarette out of the carton and putting it behind his ear.

“wonwoo, wait,” you say, panic bubbling in your chest as he starts to walk down your hallway, feet already shoved into his sneakers. “baby, wait.” you follow after him, reaching for his arm to pull him back.

“what, y/n?”

“just stay, okay?”

“for what? you’ve been acting like you don’t want to be around me ever since i got here. so let me just do you one better and get out of here,” he says, nostrils flaring. your stomach churns and you slide your hand down to his wrist.

“wonwoo, i want you here. i swear—please just stay,” you say, pushing up against him and circling an arm around his middle. he only stares down at you, his eyes hard. “im sorry, baby. just stay.” wonwoo sighs through his nose and turns his head away from you. desperately, you gently push his face to look at you, and you stand on your toes to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “i just miss you. i’m sorry.” you mutter.

“just say that, then! don’t act that, way” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. wonwoo stares down at you for a moment before leaning down and crashing his lips into yours, backing you against the wall.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble against his lips, fingers gripping onto his shirt like it’s a life raft. he slips his tongue into your mouth and drops his hands to hold onto your hips, holding you against the wall.

blood rushes to your cheeks when he holds you against the wall with his own hips and pulls his jacket off, his member hard against your middle.

clothes are dropped in the hallway, a trail leading to your bedroom. your on his lap, bra tossed haphazardly across the room, his mouth on your neck and chest. you dig your fingers into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp on the way he likes. “wonwoo,” you sigh, dropping your head against his.

his fingers grip your ass and you raise your hips to start pulling down your underwear. you’re both fully bare in seconds, your aching core practically dripping all over his lap. “cmon, baby girl,” he rasps.

you sink down on him, letting out a grunt when the head slips inside. wonwoo murmurs praises in your ear, telling you that you can take it and that you’re being so, so good to him. “w-won,” you moan as you move up and down on him. he wraps strong arms around you and presses you close against him, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. “fuck—i love you.” you cry, biting your lower lip.

wonwoo grunts as he helps move you up and down on him. “i l-love you too, shit,” he stutters when you clamp down on him. you cry out his name when he asks you how it feels, if this is really all you needed. “a-all you needed was some dick, huh? baby’s being mean cause she missed me.” you whimper pathetically as you roll your hips and hold onto his shoulders tightly.

you start to falter and wonwoo puts his hands on your ass and raises you up as he lies flat on his back. you gasp when drives his hips upwards, the force nearly knocking the wind out of you. wonwoo grunts with every thrust, and a knot forms in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter every time his hips snap against yours. “wonwoo, i-im gonna cum,” you manage, arms starting to shake as you try to keep yourself upright.

“go ahead, baby,” with a few more thrusts, you’re gushing around him and he follows nearly seconds after. you shake and whimper out his name, face buried in his neck. wonwoo groans and you clench around him and milk him for all he’s got, his vision going spotty from over sensitivity.

when you both come down, you peel yourself off of him with the intent to go clean up. but wonwoo gently tugs you back, sitting up and pulling you into him. “are we good?” he asks, kissing your forehead. you nod and cuddle into him, tucking yourself neatly in his side. “i miss you too. every fucking day.” he murmurs, making your chest warm.

you pull back to look at him, a soft hand on the side of his face. you whisper an i love you before properly kissing him, taking your time and savoring the moment.

[eomayas]

crawling back to you • ljh

pairing: producer!woozi x f!reader, exes2l

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst & fluff

synopsis: reader sees her ex boyfriend for the first time after avoiding him for months, and they realize just how much they miss each other

warnings: p in v, fingering, unprotected s*x (reader takes BC), praise, dirty talk, groveling, drinking, they’re at a club

a/n: eeeek sorry i’ve been MIA! i hope u like this. unedited. excuse any plot inconsistencies i started this weeks ago. will be finishing up reqs soon!!

music blares through the club speakers and bodies fill up what feels like every square inch of space available. your drink sloshes in your cup when a club-goer collides with your shoulder, a drunken “sorry” thrown your way as they stagger off. luckily, nothing spills on you and you got an apology.

walking up the stairs to the section your friends got, doubt and anxiety creep around the corners of your brain, the cage of butterflies in your stomach ready to be released. here’s the thing: your ex is up in this section, here because this night is partially about him and partially because your friends guilt tripped him into coming. otherwise, you know he wouldn’t be here. you also wouldn’t be here, if not for being tired of skipping out of fun activities just to avoid him. it’s tiring making up excuses as to why you can’t go to something whenever you catch wind of him being invited as well.

that’s really the problem with your breakup; you shared a group of friends. they all vowed to not get involved, staying true to their word on being impartial, though sometimes you wish they’d show favoritism and not invite him to things, just for your sake.

tonight, you’re here because you’re tired of being tired, tired of being afraid of running into him. you even stopped frequenting the places you used to go together because of the mere threat of possibly running into him. you’re tired of it.

also, you came because you knew he’d be here. not that that matters, or anything.

stepping into the section, you take a sip of your drink to calm yourself, before you’re spotted by soonyoung who waves at you enthusiastically. “y/n! you came!” he cries, jumping up from the couch and nearly tackling you in a hug. he hugs you around the shoulders and squeezes you tightly, and you can smell the alcohol wafting from his breath. “i’m so happy you’re here!” he slurs, and you wonder how many drinks he’s had.

when he releases you, you can’t help but return the toothy smile he gives you. “me too,” you say, though you’re not really sure yet. placing a hand on his cheek, you gently pat him. “youre drunk.” you declare, giggling when he smiles proudly.

out of all of the friends you shared with jihoon, you got the closest to soonyoung. probably because he was always around, but his personality is infectious and he’s just overall a good time. it sucked when you and jihoon broke up because you saw less of him until he reached out a few weeks after to reassure you that he wasn’t ‘picking sides’, but was trying to be there for his friend. you understood, but you needed a friend too.

you and soonyoung release each other, and he grabs your hand and begins to drag you over to where he’s sitting. knowing how close him and jihoon are, you relent and try to pull yourself back. “no, hosh, i don’t think it’s a good idea,” you start to panic, eyes frantically scanning the section for any sign of him.

“nooo, he’s not even sitting with me!” he pouts, rolling his eyes. you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he sighs, gnawing on his lip like you’re goin to hate what he’s about to say. clearing his throat, he says, “he’s made a friend.”

you ignore the pang in your chest and swallow down the lump in your throat. everything in you stops you from whipping your head around in search of him and this new found friend of his. shrugging your shoulders, you attempt to act nonchalant and like you don’t care, but soonyoung sees right through your facade. “good for him,” you say, but it comes out like fuck you.

“let’s drink.”

tipsy, not drunk. that’s your goal for tonight, and you’re dangerously on the verge of approaching drunk, the shot glass in front of you tempting. jeonghan raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, his shot glass hovering in the air. you eye the cup full of liquor, stomach roiling at the thought of taking even a sip. with resignation, you shake your head at last and lean back against the couch, a collective groan and pleading coming from your friends.

“cmonnnnnnn!” they say in unison, making you cover your face and shrink against the cushion.

“this is peer pressure, you know,” you say, pulling your hands from your face and looking at the shot glass. it’s practically calling your name (or maybe it’s seungcheol complaining at you), waiting for you to drink it. “nah, guys, i’m tapping out.” you declare.

“i’ll drink it,” wonwoo says, reaching across the table and grabbing your shot. he clinks both of the drinks in his hands against everybody else’s before downing one after the other. you watch in astonishment, feeling slightly nauseous for him, and a drink is placed in front of you on the table.

“water,” soonyoung says before you can question him, and sets a few more glasses down. somehow, despite his drunken state earlier, he’s managed to sober up as you drank more and more, despite it being his idea to keep on drinking.

you thank him and immediately grab the glass and begin chugging, not realizing how dehydrated you are.

“can i cut in?” you freeze, nearly choking on your water, and pray to the heavens that that voice doesn’t belong to who you are 101% sure it belongs to. you’ll never not know that voice, never not hear it ringing through your head when you watch a tv show you both liked or walk by your favorite restaurants. all the blood in your body rushes to your face, cheeks and neck burning red.

sliding your eyes from the table in front of you and up to the voice, it’s like your brain is wiped of every thought in your head and your senses are working over time. suddenly the music feels too loud, and the lights too bright, and your dress too tight. jihoon is looking down at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously—a habit he’d never been able to shake.

you realize much too late that he’s waiting for an answer from you, being under his gaze after so long of even seeing him making your brain work extra hard to process anything. jihoon stands above you, looking sexier than ever in all black with hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing his face. you nod choppily, hands clutching your water glass so hard that it might break from the pressure.

everyone at the table magically disappears after that, soonyoung vanishing from your side the moment you tipped your chin up. the only sign of anyone else having been sat around you are the empty glasses littered across the table.

jihoon takes a seat next to you on the couch, not so subtly wiping his palms on his pants. “are you gonna throw that at me?” he says as a greeting, nodding down at the glass in your hands.

at that, your grip loosens and you set the drink on the table, wiping the condensation from the glass on your dress. “no,” you reply, meeting his eyes. jihoons face softens when you look at him, and you wish you didn’t notice it because you feel your heart break in your chest.

“hi,” he says.

“hi.”

there’s a gap of space between the two of you, wide enough for another person to sit. you want to scoot closer and simultaneously scoot away from him, but stay planted where you’re at. “how’ve you been? it’s good to see you, y/n,” his voice is sincere, and it makes you feel confused, and like you miss him. because you do—it’s why you’re here.

you nod, nervously sliding your hands underneath your legs. “good. it’s nice to see you too,” you reply, and you wonder if this is how the night is going to go; you agreeing with and repeating whatever he says. “how are you?”

jihoon mirrors your anxious over-nodding. “good! just been working.”

“sounds like you,” you offer, earning a smile from him that shoots straight to your chest, followed by a ripple of sadness. work. the one thing you couldn’t compete with, so you never tried. and because you never tried, you were always second. second to the music, second to the studio, second to everything you let him put above you.

sensing your discomfort at the mention of the thing that drove a wedge between the two of you, jihoon scrambles to change the subject. work is his fault, but music is something he could never give up. music is his passion, it’s his calling and his purpose in this life. he blames the hours, not the thing. “i’ve been meaning to call you, but i was trying to give you space,” he says.

you nearly scoff in his face because if anything, space was the last thing you needed or wanted from him. you wanted time, but certainly not space. he gave you enough of that while you were together. space is what you got when you allowed yourself to be second. you can only hum at his words, a proper response lost on you.

“i miss you.”

those three words echo through your skull and bounce around the corners before they land squarely in the front. i miss you. somebody had to say it first.

“you don’t show it,” you murmur, looking down at the floor. you’re acutely aware of how much space is between you when the gap lessens, his thighs centimeters from your own in an instant.

“hm? i couldn’t hear you,” his mouth is very near your ear, leaving you no space if you were to turn your head to look at him. you go to lean back against the couch to put some distance between the two of you, but collide with his arm that is strewn over the back of it.

a surge of nerves runs through your body. finding a new sense of boldness, you scoot away from him and turn towards him, looking him square in the eye. “i said, you don’t show it,” jihoon blinks at you, mulling over your words.

“i don’t show it?” he asks, leaning in. you shake your head, your eyes never leaving his. jihoon brings a hand up to rub his bottom lip. those lips. your eyes drag down to rest upon the soft, pink lips that adorn his face. you fight the urge to trace his bottom lip with your thumb, grateful for the darkness of the club because your face is on fire. “well, it’s true though. i miss you.”

in place of a response, you pick up your water glass and chug the rest. you can feel him watching you, his eyes burning right through you. it’s bad enough that you’ve been craving his presence ever since you called things off with him, but having him this close so soon wasn’t exactly as easy as you dreamed it to be. you’re hot under his gaze, and the water is doing nothing to cool you down.

“you don’t act like it. you didn’t even call,” and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or you’re simply feeling extra bold but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

jihoon works his jaw and pushes a few strands of hair out of his face. “i didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

“i’ll always want to hear from you.”

at your admission, jihoon leans back against the couch cushion, teeth running over his bottom lip. your gaze lingers on his lips for a brief moment, long enough for jihoon to catch. he shifts against the couch, and you let your thoughts get the best of you and rake your eyes over his figure, shamelessly eyeing his lap. his legs are outstretched in front of him, slightly bent at the knee and fallen open wide.

it’s been months since you’ve had sex, jihoon being your last. you’ve managed to take care of yourself, though you miss feeling full. jihoon watches you drink him in, hand curling around the back of the couch. “are you seeing anyone?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. you shake your head, looking at him pointedly. you don’t have the strength to ask him back, brain taking you back to what soonyoung said earlier. a friend. clearly, there’s something there.

he’s watching you again, and this time you don’t have anything to preoccupy yourself with under his gaze. “congratulations, by the way,” you blurt embarrassingly, trying to find something else to talk about. jihoon blinks a few times, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re congratulating him for anything. “on your music. tonight is for you, isn’t it?”

“oh. thanks. and no, it’s not for me. they just needed an excuse to go out,” he says, brushing the stray strand of hair out of his eyes. you follow the movement and let out a small sigh, hands holding onto your knees.

jihoon leans forward and rests his elbows atop his knees. his face is close to yours, mere inches away. if you leaned in towards him, your lips would brush, and you hate how aware of it you are. you should hate him, shouldn’t want to see him, and certainly shouldn’t be imagining kissing him right now. you left him. but he marked the end of your relationship.

a zing of heat spreads through your chest as you look him in the eye. the club feels too dark, too hot, too loud, and jihoon too close to you. “i need some air,” you rush, standing up on wobbly knees. you pull the hem of your dress down, making the mistake of looking down at jihoon. he stares up at you, his eyes wide as they drag up your legs. when his gaze settles on your face, his lips part and his to the darts out to lick the corner of his mouth.

you swallow the newly formed lump in your mouth and make your way towards the stairs and hobble down, hand gripping tightly to the railing. you manage to make it down the flight of stairs without embarrassing yourself and push past people to get to the exit, outside calling your name like a siren. “y/n!” or maybe it’s literally your ex calling out to you.

jihoon is right on your heels, looking a little stressed as you round the corner around the side of the club. you suck in some air and look over at him, a breeze blowing his hair out of place again. “what?”

he holds his arms out to the side for a brief moment before dropping them at his sides. “i don’t know. i don’t know what to say, i just…” he trails off with a light shake of his head, wiping around his mouth. you just stare at him, bottom lip tucked under your top lip. “i just want to talk to you, i guess. i don’t know. i miss you.” he says for the third time tonight.

you only hum, looking up at the inky black sky. you hear his shoes scuff against the pavement, and then he’s right at your side, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his heels. “i’d do it differently, if i could, you know? i fucked it all up.”

“what would you have done differently, jihoon? quit your job? stopped making music? i wasn’t going to have you resent me, jihoon,” tonight doesn’t feel like the night for this conversation, but maybe it is. maybe that’s why you came here knowingly, hoping that you’d run into him to make sense of the end of your relationship. “there’s nothing to really change, jihoon. you came home. you checked in. you did it all.” you don’t know why you’re trying to spare his feelings still, but something in you won’t let you dunk on him to his face like you did behind his back.

jihoon is listening, he hears you. but the only thing he can focus on is the way you keep saying his name, and just how much he really misses hearing you say it. blowing out a breath, he shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and drops them, eyes flicking up to you at you. your bottom lip is tucked underneath the top, your eyes already on him. your arms are crossed over your midsection, and a breeze blows a few strands of hair out of their place and jihoon has the urge to put them back, but he stops himself.

“so now what?” you ask, peering down at him. jihoon stares back at you with parted lips, eyes dropping to the ground before flicking back up to you.

“i don’t know. i just miss you, y/n,” he flicks his bangs out of his face and you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t miss—you do, way too much, in your opinion—you just don’t necessarily know what to do with what he’s saying to you. is he expecting you to magically forget everything and take him back? should you take him back? should you even be talking to him? “you look really nice tonight.”

and he looks too good right now, too approachable, too take-back-able. he looks good enough to do something you might regret in the morning.

jihoon takes a half a step closer to you, the toe of his shoe touching your heel. you turn, interweaving your legs and pressing your abdomen against his and putting a hand on his shoulder. he swallows and ignores the thump thump thump of his heart, nerves skyrocketing the longer you look at him with your hand on him.

in an instant, you’re ducking down and pressing your lips to his. jihoon kisses you back urgently, one hand resting on your hip and the other cradling the side of your face. it’s rushed, messy, and feverish in seconds, jihoon trying his damndest to pull you impossibly closer.

he grows hard below you and the slightest brush of his erection on your leg makes you shiver and part your lips against his, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. jihoon drops his hand from your cheek and places it over your ass, pulling your crotch against his own. “i drove here,” he pants against your lips when he gets a moment to pull away.

that’s all you need to hear to let him lead you to his car, your heels echoing off the pavement. jihoon helps you into the back and climbs in immediately after, pulling the door closed and caging you against the backseat and the side of the door.

jihoon settles one knee on the floor of the car and the other on the seat, hands bunching your dress up around your hips as he kisses you fervently. your hands work the buttons of his shirt open, mouths pulling apart for a brief moment when you get to the end of his shirt and fumble with the last button for too long. his shirt falls open and you push it off his shoulders, and wet your lips at the sight of his bare torso.

the air in the car is thick as he sits above you, chest heaving as you drink him in. you rake your nails over the toned body that you once used to get to touch just like this. jihoon nudges your nose with his own, gently pressing his lips to yours once you angle towards him. he holds onto the headrest to brace himself, quietly groaning when you start to work his belt open.

“i need you,” you whine when his belt is pulled free, already rushing to unbutton his pants.

“lemme stretch you out first. you can’t take me yet,” and he’s not trying to be cocky (he definitely is), but he doesn’t need to know if you’ve been fucking other people to know that you definitely aren’t ready for him.

you whine at the thought of having him inside of you, your core aching with need. he’s 100% right, but you want him so bad and feel like you can’t wait.

jihoon is already working his fingers inside of you, pulling your panties down to your knees and dragging his fingers up your folds to collect your slick. he doesn’t tease you like he otherwise would if you were still together, rather he dips two fingers into your sopping, warm hole and curls them upwards. you gasp and he bites his bottom lip, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

arching against the seat, you whimper when he presses against your clit with his thumb as he works his fingers inside of you, reaching that spongy part that makes your vision spot and harsh pants leave your lips. jihoon leans down and kisses on your neck, lips dragging under your jawbone and nearing your collarbones. “i missed this,” he groans into your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the soft skin there. you only buck your hips in response and bury a hand in his hair. “missed you and this perfect pussy.”

a soft grunt escapes you when he slips in a third finger. “you take my fingers so well, baby,” he adds, pulling back from your neck to look down at where you mold around his three fingers. you suck him in greedily, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“hoon, i want you,” you whimper, tugging on his hair. his eyes fall closed as he lets you pull on his hair, head falling back as you do it. “i can take it.” you add, pussy clenching around his fingers. you bring your other hand over to pull down his zipper, eagerly pushing at the waistband.

“you sure?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, fingers still moving inside of you. you nod and lean up from the seat and press your chest into his, turning your head to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss.

jihoon pulls his fingers out of you and pull away from you to shove his pants down to his ankles, haphazardly wiping his hand on the fabric of his boxers. jihoon throws himself onto the seat next to you and tugs you onto his lap, one hand making use of unzipping the back of your dress and helping you out of it, followed by your bra and panties.

you’re left in just your heels and him in just his open shirt, his hard cock flat against his stomach. jihoon palms your breasts, letting out a breath when you rock against his lap. “fuck, i need you so bad,” you say, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck. reaching between the two of you, you take his thick shaft in your hand and slowly start pumping him, reveling in how he pants into your ear and grips onto your ass tightly.

“i wanna feel you, baby. ride me,” he rasps, biting his lip to hold in a whimper when you swipe your thumb over his tip. you raise your hips and position him at your entrance before slowly sinking down on him, gasping when the head of his cock presses into your hole and stretches you out. “fuckkkk.” he drawls, leaning his head back against the seat.

you hold onto his shoulders for support as you move lower and lower onto him, breathing quickening with each inch you take. his cock fills you up in a way that is so familiar yet so foreign after months of going without. it would be overwhelming if not for the way he rubs your lower back and kisses across your chest, mumbling at you to take your time. “you feel that?” jihoon groans, hands squeezing your hips.

you only whine pathetically and draw your bottom lip in between your teeth. you sink lower, finally bottoming out and shuddering at being stuffed. jihoon lets you sit on his lap and adjust, his ego swelling knowing that you even need the time. “shit,” you whisper, running a hand through your hair and tilting your head back. the stretch is bordering on painful, but you’re not about to quit now, not when your cunt has its own pulse that’s in sync with your heart.

a heavy hand falls on your neck and jihoon pulls you down to his lips, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth. you moan against him and rock your hips back and forth, sucking in a breath each time you move forwards. you falter in the kiss, simply pressing against his mouth as you grind against him. “you’re so tight,” jihoon grunts, dropping his hand from your neck to toy with your clit. you clench around him and his breath hitches. “i missed this pussy, fuck. i’ve been thinking about you every night.” he admits, earning a whimper in response.

moving up onto your knees, you work up the strength to fuck yourself onto him and place a hand on the roof of the car to steady yourself. “f-fuck, jihoon,” you hiccup, mouth falling open.

“do you miss me too?” he rasps, pinching your clit , hips bucking when you let out a whimper that goes straight to his cock. “you think of me fucking you like this?”

“yes!” you cry out, a response to both of his questions. your thighs burn but you keep bouncing up and down, a familiar tightness forming at the base of your stomach. “missed this so much.” you squeak, dropping onto his lap and rolling your hips.

“yeah?” he pants out, lips ghosting over your neck. “cum for me and show me.” and you look down at him and swear you see a demon for a second, jaw falling to your chest when he rubs his thumb across your bundle of nerves.

putting both of his hands on your ass, he surprises you when he hoists you up before slamming you back down on his cock, careful to avoid knocking your head against the top of the car. you moan and encircle your arms around his neck and hunch down into him, crying out his name as he manually moves you up and down. “j-jihoon!” the air gets pushed from your lungs each time he pulls you down onto his cock, vision blurring.

your cunt clenches around him in a vice grip, making him stutter as he lets out a string of curses mixed with praise. “s-shit, feels so f-fucking g-good,” jihoon manages. he can feel his release creeping up on him, but he’s determined to have you cum first. he still knows all of your tells: heavy breathing, lack of talking back, the tight grip you have on him. “are you gonna cum for me?”

it only takes him fucking you onto his cock a few more times before youre sputtering out his name and your cunt is spasming around his cock. you gush onto his lap and shake against him, nails digging into his shoulder blades. feeling you against him spurs his own orgasm, and ropes of his cum shoot up into you. you want to blame the alcohol for your lack of concern for a condom, but you’re too far gone (and take birth control pills) to take up an issue with letting him fuck you raw.

you settle in his lap and tuck your face into his neck. jihoon rubs your back soothingly and makes no move to get you off of him, or to move. for a few minutes of you sitting on top of him, he lets himself pretend like you’re still together, and softly peppers kisses into your neck, all while his finger tips gently stroke up your spine. you love and hate the intimacy, wishing it were real and yours to hold onto. wishing that it meant something.

“jihoon,” you’re the first to break away after what feels like forever. you sit up and peel yourself off of him, involuntarily moaning when he slips out of you. you roll onto the seat next to him and shyly try your best to cover yourself. “did you really mean it?” you ask.

“mean what?”

“mean it when you said you’d do it all over again?”

he places a hand on your bare leg and looks over at you. “i did. i’d do anything, really, to get you back,” he admits. he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic, he just wants you back.

you only hum. his bluntness puts butterflies in your stomach, and has you wondering if a second chance would really be that bad? or maybe it’s the fact that you can feel his cum leaking out of you and onto the seats.

“it’s not going to be this easy, jihoon,” you say, playing with the ends of your hair. his hand slides higher as he scoots closer to you, seemingly pulling you back into his lap. you wrap an arm around his neck and toy with his hair. “you’ve really got to try. show me that you care.” you add softly.

jihoon peers up at you with big, pleading eyes, and you feel yourself soften against him. he kisses the center of your chest and you let out a sigh, curling into his body. “i can do that. i just want you back, baby.”

and if he keeps calling you baby, it really might just be that easy.

[bei-b]

throwback to ot13 Follow Again tour (cr. Minghao's instagram 240525)

[ver8ho]

happy 11th year anniversary, seventeen! 🩷

[onlymingyus]

Your Mess

header edited by me (@chogiwapadada) do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; jeon wonwoo x afab reader

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, fluff

warnings; mentions a fight, crying, reader and wonwoo are sad, comfort, unprotected sex, fingering (for a moment), aftercare

word count; 2.2k and some change

request; yes

a/n; another case of this was going to be a drabble and it got out of hand.

You had your back to Wonwoo as he entered the room. The tension was still so thick, he felt like he could cut it with a knife. He could see you were wearing one of his hoodies and that you were holding your pillow to your chest. What he could also see was the used tissues on the bed from where you had been crying, the sleeves pulled over your hands that were also still discolored and damp from wiping under your eyes. 

The two of you so rarely fought, so when you did it got ugly. Things were said that neither one of you meant but he knew he had gone too far. He had said things he would never say again. He had made that promise to himself and he would make that promise to you if you would accept it. He didn’t even blame you for kicking him out of the room when you had. Hell he would have too. 

That’s why when he tried the door later that same day and found it unlocked he was timid but still moved into the room. You didn’t look back even though you knew Wonwoo was in the room. The door had been locked for hours, you hadn’t wanted to see his face or hear his voice after the things the two of you had said. But then around 30 minutes ago you began to miss him more than you were mad at him and this was your olive branch, the unlocked door and he had taken it. 

The bed sank at Wonwoo’s weight as he sat behind you. His fingers rubbing together under the sleeves of his sweater as he sighed and tried to think of what to say. He wanted to touch you so bad. You never really realize how much you miss someone until you are forced to be away from them, even for a few hours. “Baby? I am so sorry. I…” 

You sniff back tears hearing his voice and Wonwoo’s heart breaks as his eyes widen. “No, oh my god. Please don’t cry, fuck. I am so fucking stupid. I don’t even remember why we started fighting. It got so out of hand. I just want to hold you and make this better. Please, god…please let me make this better?” 

Wonwoo moves closer and tests the waters by placing a hand against the middle of your back. When you don’t pull away but instead cry seemingly harder he can’t help himself as he pulls you into his arms and rests his head on your shoulder from behind as you lean back against him. “Baby please, I’m so sorry.” 

You feel his lips press to your cheek lightly as you lift your hand to press it against his cheek. His eyes close to the feeling of your touch but also your damp sleeve making him furrow his brows. “You need a new hoodie or a shirt. Something…that’s not wet.” You laugh catching Wonwoo off guard as he moves from you looking at you as you sniff back tears looking up at him finally. 

“What’s funny? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You shake your head as Wonwoo goes to the closet, taking down another of his hoodies before returning to you to toss it on the bed beside you. “I don’t want another hoodie right now Wonwoo.” He sighs and moves to squat on his heels in front of you looking up at you as he pushes your hair out of your face under your hood. 

“Then just tell me what you want, baby, and it’s yours. Because all I want is for you to not look at me like this. So sad, I don’t want you to cry anymore. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. Have I said that?” You laugh into a choked cry as you nod. “Yeah you said that.” Wonwoo smiles and wipes his thumb under your eye wiping away more tears before he leans up to kiss your cheek then leans to press his lips gently to yours once. 

As he starts to pull away you grab his wrist as he cups your face and hold him closer with a small whine before you speak on his lips. “I want you to touch me, kiss me, hold me. Is that wrong? Is it stupid?” Wonwoo’s brows furrow as his chest tightens because it was all he had been wanting the entire day. The moment the door slammed in his face he wanted back in the room and for his lips to be on yours so he could apologize. 

“God, no baby. It’s not wrong or stupid. I love you so much.” You mutter on his lips that you love him too as he moves more to a standing position and leans you back on the bed before pulling from you. His eyes travel off you as you move back on the bed making more room for him before he watches you lift his hoodie from your body and lay it to the side leaving your upper body bare to him. 

A soft groan leaves Wonwoo’s mouth as he nods and tugs his own sweater from his body, discarding it on the floor before he crawls between your legs and presses his lips to your stomach before working the kisses upwards. Your fingers run through Wonwoo’s hair as his mouth gently presses to one of your breasts before his eyes meet yours as he kisses over your nipple making you smile as you lift your hips towards him. 

“Fuck…Wonwoo. I missed you.” He nods in agreement before moving to your other breast running his tongue along your skin making you arch your back towards him as you close your eyes. “Please Wonwoo.” He hums in question before kissing up your neck to your jaw and finally your mouth. “Tell me what you need from me baby. I said, ``Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

When you run your thigh between his legs to press against his erection that was already starting to become painful, Wonwoo groans on your lips and closes his eyes tightly. “You want my cock?” You nod and scratch your fingers along his sides as you whine into a kiss and rub your thigh along his shorts again making him hiss. “Baby...hang on. Shit, you have me so wound up.” 

You smile on Wonwoo’s lips making him laugh as he nips at your bottom lip pulling it out slightly before letting go. “Minx.” You laugh softly and watch him lean back from you as he pulls on your shorts and panties pulling them down your legs in one swift motion as you lift your hips and legs making it easier for him. 

Wonwoo shakes his head as he watches you move your legs to either side of him. His eyes falling between your legs making his mouth water at how wet you are for him. “God baby, you are killing me.” You watch as he manages to unceremoniously kick his shorts and boxers from his legs before he runs his hands along your legs up to your knees and into your inner thighs. When you shiver, Wonwoo smiles and lets one hand reach to run between your dripping folds making you whine. “Wonwoo…I want you.” 

“You have me baby.” You shake your head no and reach down to take his hand causing him to stop moving. “I want you in me.” Wonwoo’s brows furrow before he nods. “Are you sure you are ready?” You tilt your head incregiously at him before using your hand to slip his finger into your entrance so he can feel how wet you are making him groan. “Yeah okay…I just, fuck, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You watch him take his hand back and suck his fingers clean of you with a groan as he looks at you before moving from between your legs. “Come here babe.” You nod and take his hand as he sits against the headboard and sits you over his thighs. Looking down, Wonwoo groans as he pushes his cock towards your slit teasing your clit with his head making you jump and lift your hips. “Gotta sit on it if you want it in you, beautiful.” 

Wonwoo smirks a bit, more of his cocky bed demeanor coming back as you both get more comfortable. You shake your head with a sigh as you let him help you line up your body and sink your pussy over him slowly. Wonwoo watches your face as you take him in deep and completely as you sit fully on to his lap. Your head falling forward as your hands grip his shoulders, he tilts his head and reaches up taking a breath as he pushes your hair out of your eyes. “You okay?” 

When you nod and moan out a yes, Wonwoo bites his lip and moves his hands over your legs before gripping your hips helping you to start moving as you already start to see stars at how he feels inside you in his position. Your toes curl as you choke back a cry of his name when he starts to lift his hips to meet yours, making your entire body vibrate. “Oh shit, Wonwoo!” 

He leans forward to claim your lips with a loud groan as he feels himself getting closer to his own climax knowing you are getting close with how you are clenching around him. He knew your body almost as well as he knew his own. One of his hands stays steady on your hip helping you move as the other moves to cup your head keeping your mouth on his as Wonwoo groans loudly when he feels you tighten around him like a vice as your orgasm takes hold of you. 

You moan on his lips, your forehead resting against his as your fingers dig into his flesh leaving half moon imprints that he doesn’t even seem to notice. As you ride out your high, rolling your hips over him, Wonwoo groans your name, having to throw his head back as he can’t hold on any longer. You feel warmth spread through you as he cums into you and hisses out a groan through clenched teeth. “Fuck…” 

His hands move to stop your hips as his high starts to fade. Wonwoo licks his lips, catching his breath, when he feels your forehead rest against his shoulder. He can’t help but to smile to the feeling as he moves to wrap his arms around you, keeping you close for just a moment longer in this intimate position. ‘I love you y/n.” 

Smiling against Wonwoo’s skin, you press a kiss to his neck before leaning back in his arms. You run your fingers over his jaw before telling him that you love him too. He hums in appreciation as his eyes travel over your face. “Time for a bath.” You shake your head and whine making him laugh. “Don’t complain. We are stinky. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

You whine as he helps you move off him before he groans sliding off the bed moving towards the bathroom. You hear the bath start to run before he comes back and takes your hand leading you towards the tub helping you in. When you reach for him he leans down to kiss you. “I’ll join you in just a few minutes. I’m going to get you some water and get some sheets so I can change the bed before we lay back down.” 

Shaking your head as you lean back in the warm water, you watch Wonwoo scratch the back of his neck as he leaves the room to do his tasks, making you smile, your comfort was always on the forefront of his mind. You open your eyes to the sound of feet on tile as Wonwoo comes back in the room with a glass of ice water in his hand before he smiles at you. “Where is your water?” He laughs and shrugs, “Figured we’d share.” 

Wonwoo slips in the bath behind you with a content sigh before reaching for the glass making you take a sip before he does the same. His free hand cupping the warm water pouring it over your skin as you lean your head back on his shoulder. Wonwoo can’t help but to smile to himself as he sits the water to the side and wraps his arms around you just holding you in the bath. “I was going to tell you something.” 

You open one eye and glance at him, making Wonwoo laugh as he leans his head to look at you. “I was going to tell you that during the fight…I would have kicked me out of the room too. Also i promise, to me and you I will never say something so stupid again.” You look at Wonwoo fully frowning slightly before reaching up to run your hand along his cheek as you nod. “I believe you. I’m sorry too, you know.” 

Wonwoo nods and kisses your wrist as he leans his head before sighing. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I just wanted you to know that. Now, I just want to hold this beautiful woman in my arms and enjoy a warm bath after having some of the best sex in my life.” You laugh and shake your head and close your eyes again. “You are a mess Jeon Wonwoo.” He laughs and nods, “Your mess.” 

——————————————————

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© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[onlymingyus]

i want to write you a song

pairing; lee jihoon (woozi) x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, fluff

summary; You have the best job in the world as Lee Jihoon's personal assistant but his secrets are starting to turn your world upside down.

content warnings; personal assistant!reader, ceo/boss!jihoon, single dad!jihoon, children, grandparents/parents, jihoon has a sibling, coworkers!soonyoung, mingyu, & wonwoo, soonyoung in a menace, eating/drinking, alcohol, jealousy, crying, self confidence/esteem issues, death of a family member (in the past).

smut warnings; unprotected sex, pulling out, cream pie, simp!jihoon, mild dom!jihoon, sub!reader, the dom/sub dynamics are very subtle, dumbification (very mild), innocence kink, lingerie kink, pet names, praise (like a lot -- he is a simp), body worship, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, crying (from pleasure and happiness), manhandling, masturbation, pillow princess!reader, i am sure there are more (let me know if its glaring) -- bonus section has its own warnings on patreon.

w/c; 27k and some change (3.2k extra words for patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to @junkissed and @seokgyuu for helping me come up with a title for this! it's a 1D song, and I do not go here, but it's a very cute song and title! also thank you to my june for proofreading for me and always being the best in the fucking world. literally going through 30k words of my bullshit... the mvp! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy me simping over simp dlif jihoon! next month is spooky seasons so keep your eyes peeled for that one 💀!  

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Whining under your breath, you clutch the drink holder to your chest as you watch the door close in front of you. It didn’t seem to matter how quickly you were trying to get your feet to move in your heels; the door closing was like an impending doom. That was how your entire day felt from the moment you woke up. You were trying to be good at your job. For the past month, you had been doing your best to make a good impression at the company and on your new boss, but it seemed like something would happen to make you look like an idiot. 

“No, no, no! Fuck!” The words come from your lips louder than you intended as you try to put the toe of your shoe between the door and the frame, only to be a second to late watching it close with a deafening clang in front of you. Stomping your foot out of frustration, you feel something cold and wet seeping through the front of your shirt, drawing your eyes down. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

The world was out to get you. That was the only excuse you had as you moved the drink tray from your chest, seeing the coffee stain spreading along your chest towards your stomach. In your temper tantrum, you had managed to knock the lid off one of the coffees, and now you were wearing your mistake. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you try to balance the drinks in one hand and your bags in the other to fish for your badge. Sniffing back your frustration and embarrassment, you barely glance to your left as someone uses their badge to open the door and hold it open for you. “Thanks… I’m such a mess.” 

Jihoon grins at you as you pout down at your shirt. You were a mess. You had been a bit of a mess from the moment he hired you, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still good at your job. You were easy on the eyes, good with his schedule, and you had never missed a day of work—even if you were a couple minutes late. “I have some things upstairs, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t worry about it. Let me take the coffee.” 

The sound of your boss's voice makes your eyes widen as you look in his direction, a soft gasp escaping from your mouth as your lips part in shock. You had been trying so hard to beat him back to the office. You were trying to make a good impression on him and the others in the office by providing an afternoon coffee every single day—today you were failing. 

“Mr. Lee… Oh, I—no, sir. I can—” Shaking his head, Jihoon slides his fingers over yours, taking the tray from your hand before gesturing towards the door once again. “You do too much, Miss Y/L/N. Did one of the guys tell you to pick these up? They shouldn’t. It’s not your job.” 

Taking a step forward, you stumble, feeling Jihoon’s hand on your lower back guide you through the door. Shaking your head, you pull your jacket over your coffee-stained shirt and press your lips together as you adjust your bags to both arms and dare to glance at your boss once again. “No… I just thought they might like them. A little pick-me-up. One for you too.” 

Jihoon smirks softly as he moves his hand from your back to press the call button for the elevator for the both of you. Lifting his brow, he looks back at the drinks in his hand before sighing and tilting his head. “You’re kind. It’s not necessary. I rarely drink coffee, honestly.” 

Watching your face fall in disappointment, Jihoon sighs, following you into the elevator before shaking his head. “But, with that said... I am very appreciative and I’ll enjoy it today, Miss Y/L/N. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” 

Nodding, you swallow hard, thinking back to all the days over the month when you had brought him coffee and saw the confusion on his face as he slid it away. He really didn’t like coffee, did he? You should pay more attention. “It has. Um, I–sir? If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?” 

The ding of the elevator draws Jihoon’s eyes up to the numbers at the top of the door before he grins at your question. You were so cute; it was endearing. You were trying too hard to impress him when you already had. Sighing softly, Jihoon nods his head forward, waiting for you to get off the elevator first when the doors open, before he walks beside you, meeting your gaze. “Coke Zero, actually.” 

It was so unexpected for someone like Lee Jihoon. He was the CEO and star producer of Ruby Entertainment. You expected someone like him, someone who was on the cover of magazines, who had more money than God to drink merlot for breakfast, yet he preferred a Coke Zero for an afternoon pick-up. Grinning, you nod as you drop your bags at your desk and offer to take the drink tray from Jihoon. “I’ll remember that.” 

Giving you a slow once-over, Jihoon meets your eyes and laughs under his breath. “I’m sure you will; you’re good at details.” Starting to turn towards his office, Jihoon stops and gestures towards you and back to his office. “I have extra button-ups in my office closet. You’re welcome to wear one. Might be a little ill-fitting, but...” 

Taking a deep breath, you think about his offer before nodding. You were internally freaking out over the idea of wearing your boss's clothes, but you could feel the wet shirt against your skin at this point and something dry was tempting. Reaching for one of the coffees, Jihoon smirks at you before nodding his head towards his office, not waiting for you to follow him as he brings the drink to his lips and takes a sip. 

Glancing around Jihoon’s office, you watch him move to his desk as if he hadn’t just offered you his clothes before you look at the farthest wall where the closet in question is located. You had put plenty of things in it. That was one of your jobs—pick up dry cleaning, bring it back to the office and put it in the closet. Jihoon liked to work out before work and needed something to change into. 

Sighing to yourself, you shake the thought of Jihoon fresh from the gym in the morning from your head as you cross the room and open the closet, looking over the neatly pressed button-ups. Watching you from his desk, Jihoon makes a small face at the taste of his coffee before smiling to himself as you stare at the shirts in the closet as if there is a wrong choice in front of you. He didn’t have that many different options. He wasn’t an adventurous man when it came to his clothes. He wore white, black, blue, and gray. 

“Pick anything, Miss Y/L/N. Any of them will look lovely on you.” 

That wasn’t helping. You were trying not to panic as you laughed awkwardly and glanced over your shoulder to nod politely towards Jihoon before picking out a white button-up and pulling it towards you. “This one, I guess. I’ll bring it back after I have it dry cleaned, sir.” 

Jihoon watches as you stumble over your feet in your heels, quickly making your way towards his office door. Leaning forward in case you were to fall, he sighs when you reach out your hand and laugh at yourself. “I’m okay, Mr. Lee. Just going to change quickly and get back to work. I apologize for all the inconvenience.” 

Settling back in his chair, Jihoon shakes his head as his door closes and he watches you rush towards the bathroom with his shirt in your hands. Muttering under his breath, he takes another sip of his drink as he looks at his computer screen, scrolling through emails. “You’re not an inconvenience, Y/N…” 

Resting the straw of his coffee against his lips, Soonyoung smirks at you as he tilts his head, giving you a once-over. You were attractive—there was no questioning that. What was making him give you a second and third glance today as you passed out your cute little afternoon coffees was that your shirt was different than it had been before lunch. It was too big for you, almost as if—”Ya, Y/N? Are you wearing your boyfriend’s clothes to work? Did you do something spicy at lunch?” 

Your fingers almost slip from the coffee in your hand as you offer the last one to Wonwoo, his eyes moving to your shirt as Mingyu leans back in his chair to get a better look at you. Your face was on fire and you wanted to kill Kwon Soonyoung. 

“What? No! Oh my god... I don’t—shut up. No, I don’t even… I’m not dating anyone, Soonyoung. I had an accident with the coffee. This is Mr. Lee—” Stopping mid-explanation, you avoid the eyes of the three men even as you feel Soonyoung’s smirk get wider out of the corner of your eye. “Shut the fuck up... No, you are not wearing Jihoon’s clothes! You little slut.” 

Sinking down in your chair outside of Jihoon’s office, you rest your head in your hands as Wonwoo tells Soonyoung to stop teasing you, but the man just laughs, catcalling from across the room even as he gets sheet music thrown in his direction by Mingyu. 

“Leave her alone, Soonyoung. She’s gonna pass out.” Even though Mingyu was "helping,"  you could hear the teasing in his voice. He wasn’t much better than Soonyoung. You could feel his eyes moving over you from his desk and as you met his eyes, you instantly regretted it as he smirked. “You look hot, Y/N. I bet Jihoon was losing his fuckin’ mind seeing you in his—” 

The sound of Jihoon’s office door opening to your right causes everyone to stop teasing, though a few snickers remain. Staring at your laptop, you hear Jihoon clear his throat before you dare glance at him, seeing a soft smile on his face. At least he wasn’t like the other idiots you worked with. He was professional. He would never make you feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like you the way that Soonyoung or Mingyu thought that he did. That was ridiculous. 

“I hate to ask you for a favor after such a long day, but—have you met, uh, Haein?” Furrowing your brows, you shake your head. You had heard the name, but you hadn’t met the woman the name belonged to. You assumed she must be someone important to Jihoon—a sister, aunt, or significant other. You hadn’t let your mind linger. 

“Right… I forget how short of a time you’ve been here. Uh, shit. This is not what I hired you for, but at the same time…” Glancing at his watch, Jihoon sighs and meets your eyes once more. “Do you know where the elementary school is on the corner of Fifth and Cline?” 

Now you are even more confused. You could hear the others in the room whispering, but you didn’t have time to give them a thought as you nodded and Jihoon offered you his car keys. “Perfect. Haein isn’t feeling well. I have that meeting to hopefully sign Seokmin in half an hour or I’d just cancel. We can’t afford to lose him.” 

“I—okay. Sure. I’ll go get Haein.” Jihoon could see the confusion and concern in your eyes and yet you were on your feet, your purse in one hand and his keys in the other. Your brows furrowed, and you tilted your head, trying to get your head around what you were being asked to do, when Jihoon’s fingers wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back towards him. “She’s in Mr. Hong’s class; they know to expect you.” 

Carefully pulling the blacked-out Range Rover into the parking lot, you first lean down to glance at the school in front of you before turning around to look at the booster seat in the back. You were picking up a child. You were picking up Jihoon’s child? Lee Jihoon had a child. 

Your brain was working overtime as you slid out of the seat and held your boss’s keys tight to your chest like a safety net. You were beginning to realize that you knew little to nothing about him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t looked him up on the internet. You had done your research before your interview and you thought you knew everything there was to know about Jihoon and his company—but nowhere on any of his biographies on any website did it mention “father”. 

Smiling at the woman behind the desk, you nod your head and clear your throat in an attempt to not only calm your nerves, but to look like you belong. “I’m here to pick up Lee Haein. She is in Mr. Hong’s class.” Tilting her head at you, the woman studies you for a moment before looking over the screen in front of her and pursing her lips. “Miss Y/L/N?” 

Quickly nodding, you reach into your purse, offering the woman your ID before taking a clipboard that would allow you to sign Haein out of school. “Do you know where the nurse’s station is?” You had never even been inside of this school, so the question makes your brows raise as you awkwardly laugh and offer the clipboard back to the woman. Sighing under her breath, she moves to her feet and leans over the desk, pointing back towards the door and to the left. “It’s the third down the hall. Haein will be waiting with the nurse.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice is meeker than you intended as you back out of the office and into the hall, turning to the left and making your way down the hall, counting doors. Lucky for you, it wasn’t hard to find; not only did the woman give you great directions, but the word Nurse adoring the door would have given the location away—even to you. 

Knocking lightly, you push the door open and wince at the automatic ding from the door alarm. You understood why it was there, but you already felt out of place and now all eyes were on you—even if it was just two sets of eyes. 

“Looks like you get to go home now, Haein.” The man’s voice is soft and kind. You smile at the little girl who looks at you uncertainly before you put your hand to your chest and sigh into your words. “I’m Y/N, Haein. Mr. Lee’s…um—your dad’s assistant.” 

The girl looked no older than six, and she also didn’t seem to be pleased that you were picking her up instead of Jihoon. “Where is he?” Even the sound of Haein’s voice made your heart feel heavy; she did sound pitiful. 

“He’s at the office. I’m sure he’ll come home as soon as possible.” Looking back at the nurse, you take Haein’s bag when it’s offered to you before furrowing your brows tightly as you glance between him and the girl. “Should I take her to the doctor?” 

Shaking his head, the man moves to his feet and runs his hand over Haein’s head as she pouts up at you both. “If she’s feeling bad in the morning, I’d say to make her an appointment. This might just be a bit of a headache and an itchy throat.” Ruffling her hair, the man watches the girl finally smile as he nods at her. “We can be hopeful, right?” 

Walking beside Haein, you glance down at her a few times before the small girl meets your eyes and furrows her brows once the two of you are outside near the car. “Are you taking me to my daddy?” 

Opening the back door, you purse your lips, watching Haein climb into the back and her booster seat waiting for you to not only answer her but to buckle her seat belt. Making a surprised sound, you lean forward and secure the belt as you tilt your head back and forth a few times. “Uh, I—he didn’t. You know what, I’ll ask, but wouldn’t you rather go lay down?” 

Timidly, you reach up, putting your hand against her forehead, a frown finding your lips at the warmth under your palm. “We could get you something for your headache, as long as that’s okay with your dad.” 

Haein pouts a bit, leaning her head back against the seat as you give her a once-over. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted, but her first impression of you was shifting. You were being nice and you were pretty. It was funny how you kept stumbling over your words, especially when you were talking about her daddy. 

“I’m sleepy…” Pausing, Haein tilts her head and grabs at your hand, landing on holding your fingers as she kicks off her shoes into the floorboard. “What was your name? I don’t member. Sorry.” 

There was no way you could be upset as you looked down at your fingers wrapped up in tiny ones. Clearing your throat, you press your lips together and nod at Haein before finding your voice. “Y/N.” 

Nodding along with your words, Haein finally lets go of your hand and yawns your name as you take a step back and close the door, letting her rest. You could see something of Jihoon in the girl, but it wasn’t a physical resemblance; it was more mannerisms. Perhaps her physical appearance was something she took after her mom. 

Her mom… Was Jihoon married? You hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, but then again, you didn’t know about a child so there was plenty he kept secret. Sighing softly, you take out your phone as you slide behind the wheel of the car, waiting for your call to connect. Adjusting the rearview mirror, your lips pull up into a soft smile as you watch Haein sleeping soundly behind you—at least you are smiling until Jihoon speaks, then your nerves take over. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay? Did you get Haein?” 

Rubbing your lips together, you nod before remembering Jihoon isn’t in front of you. “Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Lee. She’s napping in the car now. I just—” Pausing your brows furrowing when you realize that Jihoon had used your first name. You had heard it a few times from him, but it was so rare. “I, um—where did you want me to take her? You didn’t tell me.” 

Glancing back into his office, where Mingyu was doing his best charm routine with Lee Seokmin, Jihoon smiles at the idea of Haein napping. He was worried about her, but knowing that she was with you eased his nerves exponentially. “There is a key to my house on the keyring for the car. You know the address, don’t you?” 

You did know the address. You had dropped off a few things there once or twice in the time you had been his assistant, but you had never been inside for more than a few moments and never while he wasn’t there and you had never gone past the foyer. “I—yes, sir. Do you have—is someone waiting there for us? To take care of Haein? Her mother?” 

Wincing to your question, Jihoon runs his fingers through his hair as he paces in front of his door. He was feeling anxious; not only at your questions, but also at the fact that he wasn’t in that room getting signatures on paper. “Uh, no. No, could you? I mean, I know it’s not your job, but I’d really appreciate it. I’ll leave as soon as this deal is done.” 

You had already pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the direction of where you’d need to go to get to Jihoon’s house, but his question had you feeling faint. He wanted you to do what? To babysit his daughter? He was taking personal assistance to another level. 

“Me? Well… I—I guess so. I mean, if you need me to, trust me with something so important, sir.” You hear Jihoon scoff on the other end of the phone and you wonder if you have said something wrong. Before you are able to question him, he sighs, and his voice drops not only in volume but in tone, causing your stomach to tighten. “I trust you with everything, Y/N, so yes, I trust you with Haein.” 

Even after being off the phone with Jihoon for over an hour and being inside his house with his daughter tucked into her bed, you were still trying to get his voice out of your head. His words were on a loop in your head and you were feeling pathetic. Clearly, you were taking them a bit too seriously or at least in the wrong way. 

Jihoon trusted you as his assistant. That was why he trusted you with his family. That was why he trusted you in his house without him. That was why you shouldn’t snoop around, and yet you were, just a little. You couldn’t help it. Lee Jihoon was a fascinating man and he sent you a single text on your way to his house. 

Mr. Lee: Make yourself at home. Be there soon. 

So in order to make yourself feel at home, you needed to know where things were in this large home. You had most of the layout figured out. You had easily found the kitchen and Haein’s room with her help. Before tucking her in, you had also found her bathroom and some children’s tylenol to help with her fever. Now you were discovering that Jihoon had a home studio, because, of course, he did. 

There were pictures of Haein everywhere now that you really took the time to look past the foyer, but more than that, there were pictures of her with other people. Tilting your head, you pick up a framed picture from a bookshelf, noticing how the man holding a much smaller Haein looked so much like her. He had some similarities to Jihoon, but most of all, he had Haein’s eyes and her nose. 

You wanted to keep studying the picture, but the sound of the front door made your heart rise into your throat as you carefully put the picture back where it belonged and moved back into the living room just in time to see Jihoon do the same. Glancing around the room, he takes a breath before he meets your eyes and lets it out with a sigh. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Again, you weren’t going to let that go to your head. Instead, you watch as Jihoon rubs at his neck, his other hand loosening his tie as he moves towards the couch to sit down. “Is Haein sleeping? I seriously can’t thank you enough for this, Miss Y/L/N.” 

It almost made you sad that Jihoon hadn’t called you by your first name in person. You liked how it sounded on his lips, even though you shouldn’t. Smoothing your hands over your borrowed shirt, you nod as you move towards where your bags waited for you in a chair next to the couch Jihoon was now occupying. 

“She is, it wasn’t an issue, Mr. Lee.” Clearing your throat as Jihoon watches you fidget in place. “I gave her a dose of the children’s tylenol that was in her bathroom. She was running a bit of a fever, but I checked her a few minutes ago and it seems to be a bit better now.” Grabbing your purse, you sigh under your breath, realizing for the first time since you had arrived at Jihoon’s that you had driven his car there; yours was still at the office. 

Jihoon tilts his head as you take out your cellphone and start scrolling, your purse resting on your forearm. “Thank you for doing that... What are you doing?” You were clearly concentrating on something hard; your brows were knitted together so tight that you were almost scowling at your phone. “I—uh, ordering a ride.” 

Running his hand over his face, Jihoon shakes his head before leaning back on the couch and finally meeting your eyes once again. “I won’t tell you what to do, however... I’d strongly prefer you not do that. I was hoping—” 

The confusion is written on your face as Jihoon stops speaking, as if coming up with his words on the spot. To you, he always seemed so confident, if not a bit intimidating, when in reality, right now he was mustering his courage. “I was hoping that you’d stay for dinner and then let me get you home. I’ll have someone here to help with Haein in a couple hours, and then I can drive you to your car myself.” 

Glancing around the room, you take a breath and fill your cheeks with air as you consider his words. Finally meeting his eyes again, you nod and watch as a smile pulls at Jihoon’s lips, making it impossible for you not to mirror it shyly. 

“Really? Okay… great. Perfect—uh yeah. I’ll go check on Haein, say hi, and, uh, be right back.” Jihoon was not only overflowing with confidence, but he was also articulate and precise. You were now watching him stumble over his words, a slight flush to his cheeks as he tapped his hand over the arm of the couch and got to his feet. Surely you were reading too much into this. You had to be, even as you watched Lee Jihoon glance over his shoulder at you, his hip knocking into a chair as he walked out of the room. 

Sighing under his breath, Jihoon runs his fingers through his hair as he turns down the hall and is finally out of your line of sight. “Real fuckin’ smooth. Get it together.” While his words were muttered under his breath, Jihoon still feared you might hear him as he shook out his hands and took a steady breath. 

It wasn’t easy to be around you like this. At work, it was so much simpler to play into his role as your boss. He got into the zone once he stepped into the building, but here? He could really see you. He could let his eyes wander more, not that he hadn’t been doing that more at the office. You were the most beautiful woman that Jihoon had ever seen and while that hadn’t been the reason that he had hired you as his personal assistant, it was a bonus. The fact that you were also one of the most interesting and endearing people that he had ever met? Well, that was icing on top of the cake. 

Carefully pushing the door to Haein’s room open, Jihoon frowns a bit, seeing the way the girl’s brows were knitted together as she slept. She somehow looked even smaller than normal. Being as gentle as possible, Jihoon sits on the side of her bed and runs his fingers over her forehead, feeling for any signs of a lingering fever. He knew that you had given her medicine. However, parental instinct was taking over. It wasn’t something that Jihoon had always possessed. It wasn’t something he had even wanted, but for Haein, he’d do anything. 

Fidgeting in her sleep, Haein turns on her side and wraps her hand around Jihoon’s as she mutters softly under her breath. It isn’t clear, but Jihoon knows it’s 'daddy,” and it makes his heart beat faster. “Shh, sleep, baby. Grandma will be over in a bit.” 

Jihoon’s voice is soft and lulls Haein back to a deeper sleep, allowing him to carefully work his hand away from hers so he can move back to his feet and towards her door. It’s almost painful to leave her, even if he knows she needs the rest and that you are waiting for him, but a soft snore slipping from his daughter’s lips gives him the strength he needs to get moving. 

Looking around the living room, you start to wander once again as you wait for Jihoon. There was so much to see in his home compared to what you were used to. While you had never forgotten how successful your boss was, seeing it around you made it all that more real. 

Admiring the art on his walls, you sigh softly, not hearing him come into the room behind you, which gives him a moment to admire you. You belonged; there wasn’t any way to explain how his brain was screaming that at him, but looking at you standing in his living room already wearing his shirt. Jihoon’s brain was misfiring at the image. 

“Uh, she’s still asleep, but her fever seems to have gone down, thanks to you.” Glancing over your shoulder, you feel your cheeks heat up when you realize that Jihoon is looking at you. He was quiet, or perhaps you were just distracted, but either way, his eyes were intense as he smiled at you now. 

“I’m glad she’s doing better. She is very sweet.” Sighing as you lift your shoulders and drop them, and turning towards Jihoon as he moves towards the kitchen, you take a few steps towards him to follow. “I feel kinda bad for not really knowing much about her. I feel like, as your assistant, I’ve done a bad job of getting to know my boss. I didn’t even know you didn’t like coffee, much less that you had a daughter and a family.” 

Tilting his head, Jihoon smiles into a laugh as he leans to open a cabinet, taking out a pot and sitting it on the stove. “Well, I mean... In your defense, I don’t really tell many people my personal details. There are a few in the office who know some things about me, but—” Clicking his tongue before laughing once again, Jihoon meets your eyes as he leans against the cabinets. “You’ll get to know me, I promise. Is ramen okay?” 

Watching someone cook for you—especially ramen—isn’t how you thought you’d fall head over heels for someone, but you couldn’t take your eyes off Jihoon. Of course you had found him attractive before; how could you not? He looked like a million bucks at work in his suits without a tie, his hair perfectly styled. You practically drooled over him, but here in his kitchen, as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him push the sleeves of his button-up further up his arms as he chopped the green onions and kept an eye on the ramen coming to a boil, you were swooning. 

“I think we can get Seokmin finalized by the end of this week.” Jihoon’s words pull you out of your domestic haze and back to the present as you finally meet his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn under his gaze. Nodding, you look away, feeling shy as you reach for the glass of water that was placed in front of you moments before. “That would be good; I know you were itching to get him under the label. He’s really talented.” 

Jihoon hums along with your words, his eyes still on you even when you look down at your glass and tap your fingers on the side. God, you were stunning. This was the longest he had ever had the chance to spend with you and he knew he was wasting it by talking about work, but he was terrified. No other woman made him as nervous as you did. It was as if he would say the wrong thing and you’d fly away like a bird. 

“He is. Once he’s signed, I hope to get him in the studio as soon as possible. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a new artist debut with us. His last label didn’t understand his voice; I think I could—” Jihoon watches your lips pull up into a smile as he starts to ramble, causing him to trail off. A soft laugh takes the place of his words instead as he shakes his head and reaches for an egg, cracking it into the pot in front of him. “I don’t want to talk about work; I don’t know why I’m even doing it.” 

Tilting your head, you watch Jihoon’s hands as he discards the shell of the egg and rests his palms on the counter. “Because it’s easy. It’s what you know. You’re good at your job, Mr. Lee.” 

Sucking his teeth, Jihoon turns from the stove and opens a cabinet in front of him to take out two bowls. “I wish you wouldn’t be so formal with me. It makes me feel like I have to do it again. Just call me Jihoon, please.” 

The idea of calling Jihoon anything other than Mr. Lee makes your stomach tighten. You heard the others in your office call him by his first name and you had said it to yourself on occasion but never to him. The heat was rising along your neck and to your cheeks once again as you avoided Jihoon’s eyes, a soft smile on your lips. “Okay, Jihoon.” 

That was better than anything Jihoon had ever written or heard in his life. If there was anything that he knew, it was music. He knew how to write lyrics that would bring a grown man to tears, and yet when you said his name, that smile on your face almost broke him. 

Letting out a breath, Jihoon’s shoulders drop before he licks his lips and forces himself back to the task at hand. Dividing the ramen between the two bowls and giving you the egg, he slides your bowl towards you and rests his elbow on the counter. “I hope you like it, Y/N.” 

You cant stop the quiet laugh that slips from between your lips when Jihoon calls you by your first name, your cheeks warming like a schoolgirl who has a crush. Pressing your lips together, you nod and pick up your chopsticks and see Jihoon smiling out of the corner of your eye as he waits for you to take the first bite before joining you. The food is simple and warms you from the inside out. It was something you’d make for yourself after a long day, but there was something special about it being made for you and the fact that it was made by Jihoon. “It’s delicious. Thank you…” 

Even Jihoon had to admit that this was one of his better bowls of ramen. Perhaps it tasted better because he was sharing it with you, or maybe because he had put more heart into cooking it, but the broth was the perfect level of spice and savory on his tongue. Humming as he leans over his bowl, Jihoon nods before quietly slurping the noodles into his mouth and licking his lips. “My pleasure; the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.” 

You hadn’t done much, not in your mind. You knew that Jihoon was busy. He was always at the office before you and it seemed like while he left before the rest of the staff, there was a good reason. Now you understand that he was probably picking up Haein. He was even busier than you knew. 

Dropping off her bag on the table next to the front door, Jihoon’s mother is surprised when he doesn’t meet her. The soft hum of voices draws her closer to the kitchen, but seeing the look in her son’s eyes as he watches you eat and smile makes her pause. She knew that she could say something and let Jihoon know that she was there, but it was the first time that she had seen her son in love and she wanted to relish it. 

Laughing softly, Jihoon takes a sip of his Coke before nodding along with your words as he learns a bit about your life. He loved learning about you—about your family, your wish for a pet, anything you were willing to share. It felt like time had frozen with you until something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Jihoon’s cheeks started to flush. 

“Mom…” 

Mom? Sitting up straight, you glance in the same direction that Jihoon is looking, only for your eyes to widen to see a pretty older woman watching you both. The look on her face is kind, and her eyes are full of what seems like endearment as she laughs at both of your surprised reactions. 

“Why are you both acting like I caught you doing something wrong? Please eat.” Moving towards her son, Jihoon’s mother leans to kiss his cheek before she meets your eyes as you wipe your lips and adjust your clothes, trying to look as presentable as possible in front of someone so important. “Who is this beautiful girl, Jihoon?”

Sighing, Jihoon closes his eyes for a moment, hearing his mother’s words, before he opens them and meets you almost apologetically before clearing his throat. “This is Y/N, um... Y/N Y/L/N, my assistant.” 

Still smiling fondly at you, Jihoon’s mother reaches across the island to offer you her hand, which you take, letting her squeeze your hand gently. “It is such an honor to meet you, dear. I’ve never met any of Jihoon’s—” Stopping to think of the word, his mother smiles almost mischievously, turning to meet her son’s eyes. “Girlfriends.” 

Opening your mouth to start to explain that you aren’t his girlfriend, that you are just, as he explained, his assistant, you aren’t quick enough as Jihoon moves to stand, laughing awkwardly and taking his mother’s arm. “Mom, thank you for coming to help. Haein should be waking up. I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. We will be right back, Y/N.” 

Lifting your now-free hand to your lips, you nod and gesture to the dishes before sliding off your stool. “Um, okay. I’ll wash the dishes.” Jihoon turns to walk backwards, his hand still on his mother as he shakes his head. “No, no… I’ll get them later. I’ll be right back.” 

Turning the corner with his mother in tow, Jihoon finally meets her eyes, watching her smile widen before the two are out of line of sight of you. “What was that?” Reaching up to adjust Jihoon’s shirt, his mother carefully buttons one more button before lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “She’s very pretty, Jihoon.” Groaning, Jihoon rolls his eyes, turning away from his mother’s hand and opening Haein’s door, letting her go in first. He wasn’t going to admit out loud to his mother that she was right. 

Humming along with a song in your head, you glance over your shoulder, hearing a scoff when Jihoon finally comes back to the kitchen. Clearly, you hadn’t listened to him with your hands in soapy dishwater up to your forearms. “I’m almost done. There were just a few things.” 

“I told you I’d do them later.” Shaking your head, you use your elbow to turn on the sink, rinsing the last bowl as Jihoon moves to your side, his hand brushing subconsciously along your back as he takes it from you and puts it on the drying rack. “I wanted to help, besides... When you get back home, I’m sure you will have to take care of Haein, shower, and get ready for bed. Now this is done.” 

Sighing softly, Jihoon turns to rest his hip against the counter as you rinse the soap from your hands. This was all so domestic, and the fact that you were worried about simple things like him having the time to take a shower before bed? Jihoon was not letting that go to his head, not even a little bit. 

“And what about you? You’ll have to drive all the way home before you can do any of that for yourself. I feel awful.” Offering Jihoon a smile, you dry your hands before finally meeting his eyes and realizing how close he was standing. Swallowing hard, your smile fades ever so slightly as you take a single step back and fold the towel in your hands as you shake your head once again. "I—um, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” 

Jihoon was realizing that was impossible. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off of you, much less his mind. His smile lifting at one corner of his lips, Jihoon nods before gesturing his head towards the kitchen entryway. "Then, in the spirit of that, let me get you to your car so I don’t keep you out all night.” 

A shirt folded in your arms, a Coke Zero in one hand, and your bag in the other, you make your way to your desk even as Soonyoung leans back in his desk chair to get a better look at you. Over the past few weeks he was getting easier and easier to ignore, even if he was also becoming one of your best friends. 

“No coffee?” Lifting your brows to Soonyoung’s question, you pick up the Coke from your desk and smile at him sweetly before knocking on Jihoon’s door as the other man groans about having to get his own. 

“Come in.” 

Taking a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and slide past the large door letting it close behind you. Making your way towards his desk, you carefully avoid Jihoon’s eyes until you are too close to do so. “Hi, so I have your shirt and this.” 

Jihoon smiles as you sit the Coke Zero in front of him before moving towards his closet to hang up the borrowed shirt. “Thanks, Y/N.” Nodding, you glance over your shoulder as you try to put the hanger on the rack once and then twice before finally hitting your mark. “Sure, no biggie. I remembered.” 

His smile pulls into more of a full grin as he watches you struggle with the hanger. You were even cuter than normal, if that were possible. He had hated saying goodnight to you the night before, but he really felt like he had made progress with you. This as the most he had seen you in his office in a long time. 

Swallowing hard, you turn on your heels and press your lips together before gesturing towards Jihoon and smiling softly. “How is Haein feeling?” 

Jihoon liked this casual conversation, even if it was about his daughter. He wished you’d sit down, but even he had to remind himself that he should keep it somewhat professional at the office. Cracking open the drink in front of him, Jihoon nods and meets your eyes once again. “She’s okay, still a bit sickly. My mom stayed with her today, but…” You watch as Jihoon’s head tilts, a metaphorical lightbulb going off above his head as something occurs to him. “Y/N, are you busy this evening?” 

When you open your mouth to speak, you close it and shake your head. A list of reasons why Jihoon would ask you about your plans goes through your head before finally— ”Could you stay with Haein for a few hours while I go to dinner?” That wasn’t on your list. He wanted you to take care of his kid while he went to dinner? What? Like on a date? 

Swallowing hard, you push down your disappointment, forcing a smile as you nod politely. “Sure, I have nothing else going on. You want me to go there after work?” 

Jihoon watched as your smile faded and then reappeared strained. He wouldn’t make you watch Haein; he could always ask his mom to stay longer. Even if she did have plans, but he was hoping to talk with you like he had the day before. Why did you look so upset? 

“Uh, if you really don’t mind. I could use the he—” 

“Nope, don’t care—I mean, I don’t mind. I’ll go and I’ll go now, out... you know, to work.” Gesturing your thumb towards the door, you take a few steps backwards before turning towards it as Jihoon says your name under his breath. 

You weren’t sure you had ever felt so stupid as you did working for those few hours until Jihoon told you and the rest of the main office to have a good evening. Nodding, you avoid his eyes even as Jihoon stops at your desk to sigh, muttering that he would see you once he got home. 

Waiting until Jihoon is out of the door, Soonyoung moves from his seat and walks towards your desk with his head tilted. “At home? What the hell is that about?” 

Rolling your eyes, you try to wave the man off, not wanting to talk about it, but as usual, Soonyoung wouldn’t let go of something like this so easily. “Stop flailing your hand at me. Are you going back over to his house? What the fuck, Y/N?” 

Sighing loudly, you meet Soonyoung’s eyes as you shrug, letting your pen fall from your fingers in annoyance. “To take care of his kid while he goes to dinner. I’m a glorified babysitter, Soonyoung.” You shake your head when he tries to argue, your hand lifting to tell him to stop. “I’m gonna go and do the right thing because I know he deserves a night out. Also, because I like Haein; she’s sweet, but I won’t fucking lie... It sucks to know I’m doing this so he can go on a damn date.” 

Pushing back hard from your desk, you don’t listen as Soonyoung says your name and tries to get you to listen to reason. Instead, you push at his hand, shooting him a hurt look as you tug your purse up from the floor and onto your arm. “Y/N, I think you’re misunderstand—” 

“Stop patronizing me. I’m not stupid.” Shaking his head, Soonyoung stands up to walk behind you, feeling bad for teasing you. “I’m not! It’s not even a—” The door closing in Soonyoung’s face stops him from going further, the end of his sentence said to the wooden door. “Date.” 

Leaning back in his chair, Mingyu props his feet up on his desk and shakes his head at the display while Soonyoung runs his fingers through his hair. “You fucked up.” 

“Me?! I think Jihoon fucked up. She thinks he’s going on a date. He needs to talk to that woman or she’s gonna quit. He’s stringing her along.” Mingyu couldn’t argue with Soonyoung, and he shared his fondness for you. Jihoon’s previous assistants were never a good fit. Either they were overly zealous or lazy. One had even leaked company information to another label, but then you got the job and everything flowed like water. 

“Yeah, well… He’ll figure it out. Or we will just kill him.” 

That Soonyoung could agree with. 

“Miss Y/N, will you make me s’getti?” 

You had gotten to Jihoon’s house in a sour mood, but quickly found that when you were around Haein, you couldn’t be upset. She was so different from the previous day. It was obvious that she was starting to feel better, and her personality was really starting to shine. She was like a little bright light in your dark evening. 

“‘Course, as long as you guys have the stuff for it.” Pursing your lips, you open the pantry doors and sigh at the amount of groceries available to you. Of course, Lee Jihoon would have a stocked kitchen. You don’t know why you even considered anything different. 

Pulling a few things from the pantry and then more from the fridge, you glance into the living room as Haein pulls a brush through her doll's hair and hums under her breath. You had found yourself smiling fondly at everything the girl had done, even when it was the smallest thing. She could show you that she could tie her shoe and you were praising her like a proud family member. “What’s your doll's name, Haein?” 

Smiling at you from the couch, Haein lifts the doll to show it off as she moves to her knees. “I used to call her Kimmie, but I like your name better. That okay?” Biting your lip as you push the hamburger meat around in the pan in front of you, you feel your heart tighten in your chest at the little girl's words. “Mmhm, that’s okay with me.” 

Your phone had gone off a few times in the night. From the time that you had left the office to the time that you had put a bowl of spaghetti in from Haein, you had been ignoring it. You didn’t need to check it to know it was probably Jihoon. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were here. His mother had been here when you had gotten here; she had said goodbye to Haein and you knew there were security cameras in Jihoon’s house. You just didn’t find yourself wanting to talk to him while he was on a date with some girl. It wasn’t until the tenth buzz from your phone on the kitchen counter as you put leftovers into a container, you let out an annoyed breath and turned the phone over to read your texts. 

Lee Jihoon: Thank you again for helping me out. I owe you big time

Lee Jihoon: Soonyoung said you were upset when you left. Is everything okay?

Lee Jihoon: Y/N? 

Lee Jihoon: Are you mad at me?

Lee Jihoon: Could we talk when I get home?

Lee Jihoon: How is Haein? Are you guys doing okay?

Lee Jihoon: I checked the camera. I hate doing that. Seems like you guys are having a good time

Lee Jihoon: Feels like you are ignoring my texts on purpose

Lee Jihoon: What did I do???

Lee Jihoon: We are going to talk. 

Shaking your head, you send a single text message back to Jihoon before slipping your phone into your pocket and making your way over to the couch and Haein. “What are we watching?” Giggling, Haein tells you about her Barbie movie and you listen even as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your stomach in knots, you sigh softly and offer the girl beside you a smile as she adjusts to sit against you, her head against your shoulder, before pulling your arm around her tightly. 

Y/N: Haein is doing great. No need to rush back. Enjoy your date, Mr. Lee. 

Lee Jihoon: Be home soon, Miss Y/L/N. 

You didn’t give your phone much more thought; instead, you focused on Haein as she shifted against you to lay in your lap. Your eyes are moving between her and the movie as your fingers brush her hair back from her face. You watch as her eyes slowly close and her breaths become steady and softer, sleep taking her attention from the movie. 

Sighing softly, you feel your chest tighten at the sight of the little girl asleep in your lap, but more so at the feeling it gives you. You enjoy being close to her. You like that she is happy and feels comfortable enough to sleep. Despite only knowing her for a short time, you find yourself getting attached to Haein. 

Shrugging his coat off, Jihoon furrows his brows tightly as he moves through the house towards the living room and the sound of the television. He was frustrated that you hadn’t been answering his messages, but that last message from you had told him more than enough about why you were acting the way you were. 

He knew how he felt about you, even if it was a little terrifying for him, but if you were going to sulk and avoid him thinking that he was on a date, clearly you felt something for him too. With a plan in mind—to address the problem head-on right away—Jihoon moves into the room, only to stop in his tracks at the sight in front of him. His plan goes right out the window when he sees your fingers lazily brushing through Haein’s hair as she sleeps in your lap. Now there was no way he could avoid how he felt about you, not when you were the picture of everything he wanted in his life right in front of his eyes. 

“Y/N…” Jihoon’s soft voice causes your brows to furrow as you sit up slightly, only to feel his fingers slide along your shoulders to keep you from moving to quickly and startling Haein. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Don’t wake her. She looks so peaceful.” Leaning over your shoulder, Jihoon smiles brightly as he carefully guides his fingers along the side of yours over Haein’s head with a sigh. “She looks happy.” 

Jihoon had never been this close to you before and with where he had just come from, you find yourself leaning your head away from his cheek to give him space before moving your hand from his daughter’s head. “Mm, I hope she is. I can let you take her so I can get out of the way.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sighs as he turns his head towards you to meet your eyes. “You aren’t in the way, Y/N. Would you stop this? You’ve avoided my messages all evening. I want to talk about what’s going on, but I do want to get Haein in her room first.” Lifting his brows, Jihoon waits for you to nod before he stands back to his full height and moves around the couch to slide his arms under her, pulling her against his chest. 

Glancing over his shoulder as he takes a step towards the hall, Jihoon swallows hard, hearing you shift behind him. “Please don’t leave, okay? For me? Give me like five minutes to put my daughter in her bed and then I’ll be back.” You wanted to tell him no and leave, but the look on his face and the way he phrased his words made you settle back into the couch with another nod. 

Jihoon kept his promise and less than five minutes later, you watched a less put-together Lee Jihoon make his way back into the living room. Running his fingers through his hair, he then unbuttons his sleeves and pushes them up to his elbows before finally meeting your eyes allowing you to see how nervous he really is. 

“I’m pretty tired, Mr. Lee. I should be getting home soo—” 

“I wasn’t on a date, Y/N.”

It isn’t just Jihoon cutting you off that makes you stop, but also what he has to say. Tilting your head, you shift nervously on the couch as he sits down next to you, closer than you anticipate. “That’s what you wrote me. Your last text... To enjoy my date? I was out for a business dinner with Seokmin and his manager. I haven’t been on a date in over two years.” 

It was none of your business. He didn’t need to tell you this and you shouldn’t have even said anything. You feel guilt sitting on your shoulders as you look down at your hands and push your fingers into your palm. “Oh… Well, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

You were so devastatingly beautiful and frustrating at the same time. Scoffing, Jihoon shakes his head as his eyes stay fixed on your fingers as you nervously dig them into your palm. “Clearly I do, and I should have just explained it before when I asked you to stay with Haein tonight. There are a lot of things I need to explain to you, I think, based on how you are reacting and how Soonyoung said you left at work.” 

Now you feel like a fool. Embarrassment washes over you and you lift your head, meeting Jihoon’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m—that’s so… God. I am so embarrassed, Jihoon. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I acted like a child when I left work; I said stupid shit.” 

You watch a smirk pull at Jihoon’s lips before he glances down and nods. Obviously, Soonyoung had told him what had happened, perhaps in detail. “Made me realize that I’m maybe not alone in feeling something between us. If you can get that jealous over the idea of a date.” 

Heat rises along your neck and into your face as you look away from Jihoon at what his words imply. Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows as your brain goes from misfiring to giving you approximately a hundred reasons to bolt for the door, including the fact that Jihoon is your boss. 

“Am I wrong? ‘Cause I like you, Y/N. I mean, fuck—I really like you.” Trying to hide your smile, you lift your hand, pushing at your lips, before Jihoon’s fingers wrap gently around your wrist, pulling your hand down to your lap as he whispers your name to get you to look at him. “Come on, talk to me.” 

Shaking your head, you swallow hard as Jihoon’s thumb moves in a circle in your palm, keeping you grounded. “I—you’re my boss and... well, you have a daughter. I mean, not that I wouldn’t date someone with a kid, what I’m sayin—I mean.” Taking a breath you try to relax before nodding and starting over. “I don’t want to mess things up at work or for Haein. I’m sure she has feelings about her mother, wherever she is, and seeing her father with someone else might be really confusing.” 

Tilting his head, Jihoon nods along with you as you finally get your concerns out. Laying your hand on his leg, he slides his fingers along your hand and brings them together, lightly scratching your skin. “Well, first of all, I’m the CEO so I can do whatever I want, but there are also three employees in the main office, Y/N. They don’t give a fuck. The other employees have never even met me face-to-face.” 

Daring to spread to your fingers to catch Jihoon’s letting him hold your hand, a smile spreads over his face as he glances down at your hands and clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Two, this goes along with things I need to explain about myself. A lot of people don’t know my personal life. They don’t need to, but you do. Haein is…fuck, how do I—” Sighing, Jihoon leans his head back as he tries to think of the right words before nodding and meeting your eyes. “She’s my niece.” 

Jihoon watches confusion flash across your face as you tilt your head so he is quick to continue. “But she is my daughter. I know it’s confusing. I adopted her after my brother passed away three years ago. He and his wife were in an accident and—” Sighing, Jihoon tilts his head and you notice the way his brow furrows and the strain in his voice. Shifting closer, you close your hand around his and lift your other hand, timidly reaching to brush Jihoon’s hair from his cheek as a smile pulls at his lips for the kind gesture, making it easier to go on. “Haein was already my goddaughter, so when she lost them, I didn’t want her to know loneliness.” 

Leaning into your touch, Jihoon lets out another breath with a quiet, kind laugh as he lifts his hand to push his thumb against your pout. “Don’t be sad. We are okay; you can see that. One day, when she is ready, I’ll explain it all to her. She already sees the pictures of them, but she just doesn’t know who they really are. I don’t want to confuse her, so she knows me as her dad.” 

Every negative feeling you had been feeling about Jihoon now makes your stomach twist with guilt. You would have never imagined that someone like him would do something like that for his brother’s child and make sure that she had the perfect life, but here he was and Haein was living that life. 

“Jihoon… She’s so lucky to have you as her dad. She loves you so much.” 

Smiling, Jihoon nods a bit before his nose wrinkles playfully as he glances towards the hallway and to where Haein’s room is. “I love her. She’s my world, and I spoil her too much. She’s gonna be a nightmare as a teenager.” 

Your laugh is music to Jihoon’s ears and makes his heart beat faster. Sliding his fingers along your hand to your wrist, Jihoon sighs softly and licks his lips as his eyes drop to yours and your pretty smile. “Go out with me tomorrow.” 

Rubbing your lips together, your laugh falls silent on your lips at Jihoon’s question and how he is looking at you. The air feels thicker and more electric with his touch and you find yourself wanting to lean in and feel his breath against your lips as his eyes drift to yours one more time. 

“Where?” Now you were being coy, but Jihoon found it endearing. Smirking, he tilts his head and shifts closer to you, trailing his fingers along your arm feeling the chillbumbs erupt under his touch. “Someplace nice, dinner. Let me take you on a date, Miss Y/L/N.” 

Shivering, the chillbumps spreading over your entire body, you nod, letting out a slow breath, almost afraid to speak, knowing words would be difficult. You almost want to ask Jihoon to kiss you, but you know it’s too quick and he seems to know it too as he leans back and lifts his hand. to trail the back of his fingers over your warm cheek. “Good. I’ll pick you up at 6 tomorrow. Let me walk you to the door; you said you were tired.” 

Your entire day had been filled with one thought. What does someone wear on a date with their boss? You had asked friends and family, and you even considered asking Soonyoung for his advice. As the hours ticked by, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror in at least ten different outfits before finally landing on one that you didn’t hate. 

Jihoon, on the other hand, had turned to Soonyoung, though he had quickly regretted it. Watching the other man from his mirror, Jihoon rolled his eyes as Soonyoung made a disapproving face at yet another shirt that he pulled from his closet. “You don’t like anything I own.” 

"Well, everything you own is boring as fuck.” Smiling quickly to cover up the end of his cursing, Soonyoung glances towards the bedroom down and out into the other room to watch Haein playing with her grandmother. “Y/N is classy. She’s sexy. She deserves something different than what you wear every single day.” 

Shaking his head, Jihoon pushes his shirt back into the closet with a sigh before pulling out another and holding it up, getting a head tilt from Soonyoung. “Not bad; try it on. I like the bit of pattern; it’d be better if it wasn’t so subtle. 

Cursing under his breath, Jihoon tugs his shirt over his head and pulls the button up over his arms, quickly buttoning it up almost all the way when Soonyoung groans. “Leave it unbuttoned more than that, you prude. Show her some chest; give her the goods.” 

“Jesus Christ… Why did I ask you to come over?” 

“Because I’m your best friend and I have good fashion sense.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes as he undoes two buttons and turns towards the mirror, adjusting his shirt, tucking it into his dress pants and tilting his own head. He hated to admit it, but Soonyoung was right; the shirt looked pretty damn good on him. 

Tugging at the end of your dress as you sit on your couch, you whine under your breath and watch the minutes tick down. You had wanted to just meet Jihoon at the restaurant but he had insisted on picking you up. It seemed he had wanted you to have the full first date experience with him and it was making you feel almost queasy as you waited.

You had made Jihoon tell you what restaurant he was taking you to so that you could look over the menu in advance, and despite the prices not being listed, you had a good idea of what to order. You had even gone as far as to look up reviews of the place, only to put your phone face down on your coffee table, not wanting to see any more words like worth the price, romantic, once in a lifetime experience. Those were words you didn’t associate with yourself. 

Shaking his hands out, Jihoon looks up at your apartment building and puffs up his cheeks before taking the first step towards the door. It had been a long time since he had been on a date and even longer since he had been on one with someone he actually cared so much about. The last date had been a blind date set up by guys in the office and while the woman had been nice enough, she was nothing like you. 

Jihoon could remember how awkward the conversation had been. He hadn’t meant to be so difficult and he honestly felt horrible by the end of the date and apologized. No day with you had ever been like that. Every single conversation Jihoon had ever had with you had been as easy as breathing for him. The awkward silences were shared by both before the two of you would smile and laugh filling the space. Even the idea brings a smile to his face and makes Jihoon’s skin erupt in chillbumps as he searches for your apartment number and last name before pressing the call button. 

You hadn’t realized how intently you had been staring at your coffee table until the buzzer for your apartment went off. Putting your hand against your chest, you feel your heart beating hard and fast as you take a deep, calming breath. With one last glance to the clock, you nod and speed walk towards the intercom next to your door, clearing your throat before pressing the button and smiling into your words. “I’ll be right down, Jihoon.” 

Your voice makes Jihoon almost melt on the spot. You were smiling; he could hear it and he couldn’t wait to see it. Nodding, he takes a step back and leans against the railing as he glances up at the sky, enjoying the colors. The sun had started to set, so there was this perfect mixture of pink, blue, and gold that almost looked like a painting. Jihoon finds himself hoping you’ll hurry down so he can share the moment with you and even as the thought passes through his mind, he laughs, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was falling for you hard. 

Sliding your jacket over your shoulders, you quickly walk to the elevator and tap the toe of your shoe against the floor as you watch the numbers go down slower than they ever had. You knew it was a trick of your mind that the elevator wasn’t going slower than it did on any normal day, but knowing that Lee Jihoon was waiting for you made the world slow down and you wanted to see him. After spending your entire day both dreading and being excited about this date, now you were more excited than anything. 

When the doors to the elevator open, letting you see the main doors of your apartment complex, you take a deep breath, seeing Jihoon looking up at the sky. If you weren’t worried that he would start to worry where you were, you might take a picture of him through the glass doors. There was something incredibly picturesque and handsome about him with the sunset on the horizon behind him, the trees on the other side of the street, and the way his hair was framing his perfect face. 

Commiting the moment to memory instead, you push the door open and lower your eyes, feeling instantly shy when a quiet gasp escapes Jihoon’s lips when he sees you for the first time that evening. What you had chosen to wear was nothing special but to Jihoon, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. You were wearing a black bodycon dress that came to your mid-thigh and a light brown long jacket that fell under the length of your dress. Even down to your shoes, black heels that no one else would probably think to look at, Jihoon was taking in every detail before he tried to meet your eyes. 

“Y/N…” Whining at the sound of your name on his lips, you avoid his gaze until Jihoon’s fingers gently rest under your chin and lift your head so he can finally meet you eye to eye. “You are stunning, holy shit. I—I have to...calm down.” 

You laugh so quietly and so sweetly that Jihoon’s attempt to calm down fails. A soft groan slips from between his lips before he rubs his fingers over his lips and shakes his head, moving his hand from your face to your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “Come on, beautiful. I promised you dinner.” 

You had been right about the restaurant that Jihoon had wanted to take you to. It was fancy and not something you had ever expected to experience. The food was indulgent and the wine tasted expensive, but more importantly, Jihoon couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

More than once you had found yourself mid-conversation meeting his eyes and your cheek burning as he all but stared at you in awe. You would watch Jihoon smile and let out a soft embarrassed laugh at getting caught before he would just shake his head and sigh your name under his breath. 

“I’m sorry, you are just so beautiful.” 

“Jihoon… please.” 

“What? It’s true. I’ve spent the last month trying to keep that to myself and now seeing you like this and knowing that I’m actually on a date with you…” Jihoon hisses into his words before sipping at his wine to keep himself in check. You watch his tongue swipe over his lips before he meets your eyes once again. “I’m so lucky.” 

Shifting in your seat, you grab your own wine and take a drink to mostly hide your face and how overwhelmed you are. You had never had a man treat you the way Jihoon was. He had tried at the beginning of the date to be confident and collected but the longer he sat in front of you, the mask fell away and to Jihoon, there was no one else in the room besides you and him. No one else mattered. 

“You need to eat. Your food is going to get cold, Jihoon.” Smiling at your words, Jihoon glances down at his half-eaten plate and sucks at his teeth. You were right, but that didn’t make it any easier to focus on something that wasn’t you. You were the type of beauty that inspired Jihoon to write songs and he had been composing in his brain from the moment you stepped through the doors of your apartment. 

“Mm, yes, ma’am.” 

Watching Jihoon finally take another bite of his food, you press your lips together and swallow another sip of your wine. He was so different than the Jihoon you knew from work. The CEO Lee Jihoon could be almost terrifying when he wanted to be. He was stern and to the point. You had seen him reduce people to tears, but the man in front of you—you believed he would do anything for you if you asked. He would be on his knees for you, waiting with baited breath if you—taking a deep breath, you push the thought from your mind as you tip your wine glass back and empty the last of your wine into your mouth. 

Jihoon wasn’t the type of guy to try to invite himself into a girl’s place on the first date, but when you asked him if he wanted to come in for something to drink, he also wasn’t going to be an idiot and say no. He didn’t want the night to end yet. He didn’t need anything more with you; he might want it, but he wasn’t going to force it. Jihoon was just thrilled that you trusted him enough to invite him in in the first place. 

“Listen, my apartment is small. It’s nothing fancy, like seriously, my apartment could fit in your pool.” Smiling as he walked off the elevator behind you, his eyes moving over your legs and up your back, Jihoon shook his head and let out a slow breath. “None of that matters to me, Y/N. Stop worrying about stuff like that. I’m just happy to be with you for a little while longer.” 

Your heart was in your throat, not just at Jihoon’s words but at the idea of having him in your apartment. You knew it was a big deal and you knew what you were doing. No, it didn’t have to go anywhere besides just drinks and conversation, but you were beginning to hope that it would. You weren’t normally like this. You rarely brought men back to your apartment on the first date, but there was something about Jihoon and knowing that he was so busy at work and away from it that made you selfish and wanting just a little more time with him. 

Whining under your breath, you push your front door open and step inside, flicking the lights on as you kick your heels off beside the door before glancing back at Jihoon as he steps inside. He doesn’t fit and yet he does. Nothing about him screams small and cozy apartment, and yet he doesn’t look completely out of place in your space. He doesn’t look uncomfortable; instead, he looks at ease as he places his shoes next to yours and slips his jacket off. 

Everything about your apartment screamed you in Jihoon’s opinion. From the way you decorated to the way it smelled like your perfume, he was drowning in it happily. Moving into the living room, Jihoon quickly scans over the books on your shelf before finally meeting your eyes with a smile as you hang up your jacket along with his. You bite at your bottom lip and he can tell you are nervous. He was too, but there was something else that was bubbling inside of him that was bigger than his nerves every time he looked at you. 

“Um, I have wine, beer, probably the stuff for shitty margaritas.” Scratching at your neck, you walk into your kitchen, where Jihoon can no longer see you, but he can hear you as you rummage through your fridge. “Water, Coke—it’s not Coke Zero though, and I have milk.” 

Laughing under his breath, Jihoon lowers himself down on your couch and rubs his hands together, looking over the room once again at the pictures on the walls and your shelf. “Whatever you are having, as long as it’s not the Coke.” 

Jihoon smiles hearing your laugh even from a room away. He can still hear the sounds of you doing things in the kitchen and he has the urge to go help you, but he doesn’t want to crowd you or make you uncomfortable so he stays where he is. Just when he starts missing you, wanting to see your pretty face, you round the corner and lift two wine glasses, showing him the white wine you have poured for the two of you to share. 

“Hope this is okay. I know we had red at the restaurant, and I can promise this is cheap and probably disgusting... But it’s wine nonetheless.” Offering him one of the glasses, you sit on the couch near him, leaving plenty of space out of nerves. Jihoon takes the glass and instantly looks down at the space between the two of you, letting out a soft laughing sigh as he shakes his head and takes a sip of the wine. “The wine is okay; what isn’t is how far you are from me.” 

You bite your bottom lip as Jihoon shifts closer to you, his leg against yours causing you to lower your eyes to your wine before he says your name, drawing your gaze upwards to meet his. “If you want me to move, I will, but I—is it wrong of me to want to be close to you? You are so beautiful, it’s killing me. I know I’ve stared at you all night and I should apologize for that—” 

“No, no, it’s okay. You can stay here; please don’t move. I like it. I like when you look at me; it just—it’s a lot. You look at me like...” You trail off and laugh, looking away to take a sip of your wine before furrowing your brows, trying to think of the right words. Jihoon sighs, letting you have a moment to compose yourself, but in the silence he can’t help the way his eyes move over your face and down your body, landing on your hand that rests on your leg. 

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Jihoon turns your hand in his and strokes your arm gently, smiling when he feels chillbumps erupt under his touch and hears you take a sharp breath into your words. “It’s like I’m the only person in the world.” 

Nodding, Jihoon lifts his eyes to yours once again and leans to put his wine glass down on a coaster. Lifting his brows, Jihoon asks for silent permission to touch you as his fingers hover near your face. When you nod, he trails them along your cheek before gliding his thumb to your jawline. “You are, especially right now. Of course, Haein will always come first for me, but I have a feeling you understand that.” 

You nod and Jihoon smiles, letting his thumb barely ghost over your lips, feeling them part, a soft breath of air meeting his skin before he moves his hand to your neck and down to your shoulder and finally trailing his fingers along your bare arm and back down to your hand. “But you are so important to me. Over the time that I’ve gotten to know you, it’s been hard not to tell you all the things I’ve told you tonight.”

Shifting on the couch, you pout, and Jihoon’s name slips from your lips as he takes your wine from your hand, putting it on the table with his own, feeling a shift in the air with his confession. “I know it’s a lot and it’s fast considering where this might go, but I have to say it because I’m falling for you.” Shaking his head, Jihoon leans his head back with a half laugh and half sigh before correcting himself. “I’ve been falling for you the entire time I've known you. I’ve just been scared to death. Between everything, our previous relationship, and what you know about my daughter now…” 

It makes sense, all of his concerns. You share them and more of your own. But to say that you hadn’t been falling for Jihoon over the time you had been working for him and then even more so since you had met Haein and been introduced into his homelife, would be the biggest lie you had ever told anyone or yourself in your life. 

“What if—if this doesn’t work out?” You speak so quietly that you aren’t sure you’ve spoken out loud or that Jihoon will hear you, but he does. Nodding along with your words, he furrows his brows and leans forward as his thumb moves in small circles over your wrist, trying to calm your worries. “I don’t think in what-ifs usually, but for you this time I will entertain it. If things don’t work out, we will figure it out together. I know how I feel about you and I don’t have doubts. I know how much Haein adores you, so I don’t have doubts about that either. I just need to know how you feel, Y/N.” 

His certainty makes your head spin and your heart quicken. Taking a deep breath, you slide your hand towards Jihoon's, letting your nails scratch lightly over his palm as you nod and puff up your cheeks slightly. Smiling at how beautiful and cute you can be at the same time, Jihoon lifts his free hand to pinch lightly at your puffed up cheek, feeling you let out your breath when you finally do speak up. 

“I like you so much. If I asked you to kiss me, would you?” 

Jihoon hadn’t expected you to ask him for anything physical, but there was no way in hell he was going to deny you. Sliding his hand from your cheek to your hairline, Jihoon whispers yes as he leans in, waiting to see if you are going to ask him. When you whine, wanting him to just do it, Jihoon laughs and nudges his nose against yours. “I was waiting for you to ask.” 

“Jihoon, please! Just kiss me, oh my god.” And with that, his lips press against yours, taking your words and breath away in an instant. Melting into his touch, you whine into the kiss, your hands sliding to find something to hold on to. One hand clings to Jihoon’s forearm as the other finds his chest and grips his shirt loosely, pulling him closer to you and drawing a small groan from his lips and into yours. 

Jihoon’s head was spinning with only thoughts of yours and how good you felt against his lips. He had known the kiss would be better than he could ever imagine, but even he couldn’t have anticipated it being this good. He was already struggling to keep himself in check as your fingers lightly scratched at his chest through his shirt while your tongue brushed against his. Your sweet, breathy moans going straight to his cock that was quickly getting harder in his pants. 

“Shit, bab—Y/N.” Stopping himself before he calls you anything besides your name, Jihoon pulls back from the kiss, feeling you chase his lips. He didn’t want to stop kissing you, but this had quickly gone from a kiss to a make-out session on your couch. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. So if we need to slow down…” 

You loved that Jihoon was being respectful. You adored that he was such a sweet gentleman, but right now you didn’t want him to stop. Your lips were starting to feel numb from his kiss and it had you aching between your thighs for him. You had asked him for a kiss. Could you ask for more?

Lowering your lashes, you suck on your bottom lip and look up at Jihoon through your lashes, seeing the lustful look in his eyes that matches your own. “I don’t want to slow down, Jihoon. I—please? Can we…” 

There was something about you not even being able to say the words out loud that made Jihoon feel like he was going insane. You seemed so innocent, so pure. Groaning under his breath, Jihoon runs his fingers along your cheek and into your hairline once again before resting his forehead against yours. Licking his lips, he nods and slides his free hand along your side to test the waters and how serious you are until he reaches your hip and squeezes lightly. 

“Hm? Can we, what? What do you want, pretty girl?” Titling his head, Jihoon brushes his lips against yours, hearing you whine when he pulls them away to press a kiss on your warm cheek, speaking against your skin. “Gotta tell me.” 

Embarrassment rushes through you, and you whimper Jihoon’s name, grabbing at his shirt, muttering under your breath too low to make out. Shaking his head, Jihoon cants his head towards your mouth and shivers at the feeling of your warm breath when you repeat yourself. “Take me to bed?” 

Again, you were so innocent. You didn’t ask him to fuck you. You didn’t even ask him to sleep with you or to make love. You simply asked to be taken to bed. There were so many ways to interrupt that, but Jihoon knew what you meant. “Okay, baby. Is that okay? If I call you that?” 

Nodding, you watch Jihoon stand up as he offers his hand to you, which you take so he can help you to your feet. Feeling your knees shake a bit, you are happy for the arm that moves around your waist when Jihoon leans to brush his lips behind your ear, a playful laugh leaving his lips when you lean against him, letting him hold you upright. “I got you. Which room are we going to, baby?” 

Once Jihoon has you through the threshold of your bedroom, you finally move on your own towards your bed, reaching for a lighter to light the candle next to your bed. Jihoon glances around as the wick on the candle comes to life, providing just enough light in the room that he can look around and take in his surroundings. 

If he had thought your apartment was you, your bedroom was like getting a look inside of you. The smell of your perfume was the strongest in this room and even in the low candlelight, Jihoon could see that the colors of the room, down to the bedding, were the perfect shade for you. 

“Is that okay? I just want to be able to see you a little bit and the moon isn’t very bright tonight.” Smiling at your words, Jihoon nods as he undoes the buttons at his wrists while you sit on the side of your bed looking up at him, again so innocently—just like an angel. “It’s perfect and it smells just like you in here. Feels like I’m swimming in you; I might drown.” 

You knew that Jihoon wrote songs—no, you knew that he wrote poetry. To say that you were a fan of the music that he had composed and produced would be an understatement, but you kept yourself composed while you were at work and when you were blessed to hear something in advance and it was him singing. Hearing Jihoon say something like he might drown in you was like hearing him sing his lyrics in person to you, and now it was you who was drowning. 

“You can’t say things like that.” 

Watching you hide your face, Jihoon laughs, moving towards the bed to step between your knees. Lifting your head, his fingers lightly holding your face under your chin, he watches how big your eyes get as they meet his and he almost melts under your gaze. “Why not, baby? It’s true.” 

Shifting your legs as far apart as you can with your dress still snug around your thighs, you whine to the feeling of Jihoon’s fingers on your skin as you gain the courage to reach out and touch him. With one hand you wrap your fingers around his wrist and the other you rest it on his stomach, catching one of his shirt buttons under your nail. 

“Cause it makes me shy. I’m already so shy around you. Can’t you just—please?” You were doing it again, not using full sentences and expecting Jihoon to fill in the blanks. Luckily for you and Jihoon, his imagination was running wild with all the things he wanted to do to you and with you. 

“Yeah, I can. God, you are so pretty.” Jihoon’s fingers walk the line from your neck to your shoulder, where the strap of your dress rests. Carefully working his fingers under it, Jihoon lifts his brows like a question as he tries to take another step forward only to meet resistance and to look down at the tight skirt of your dress. “This dress is so beautiful on you, Y/N, but it’s gotta go. Can I—mm, can I take it off you?” 

You knew the question would be asked and you wanted him to take your dress off, but hearing the words made your stomach flip and your heart race. Nodding quickly, you bite at your lips and shift on the bed so quickly that Jihoon can’t help but to chuckle as he takes a step back and leans down as he shakes his head and catches your lips in a soft kiss. “Slow down, pretty girl. I’ll do it. Let me do it; I want to.” 

Speaking on Jihoon’s lips, you relax under his hands as Jihoon slides them along your outer thighs to where your dress sits tight against your skin. “Okay, Hoon.” You don’t even mean to shorten his name, but you already feel drunk off him as soon as his fingers press under the end of your dress and start to shimmy it up your body inch by inch. 

Smiling against your lips at the shortening of his name, Jihoon leans over your body, laying your back on the bed, feeling you lift your hips as his hands reach them. He only pulls away from your lips to make it easier to get your dress off, but the sight isn’t one he ever wants to forget as you arch your back and bite at your lips, giving him the honor of taking off your dress and completely leaving you in your lingerie. 

Jihoon swallows hard as his eyes move over you slowly. He hadn’t told you what his favorite color was and yet you were lying on your bed covered in it. Red lace adorns your body in all the right places, leaving just the right amount to his imagination as he gives into temptation and trails the back of his fingers between your breasts, over your stomach, and stops just on top of your clothed pussy. 

“The most gorgeous fucking woman in the universe, I swear to God. Baby, look at you. I almost don’t want to take any of this off of you.” Your cheeks and neck burn from Jihoon’s overwhelming attention as he moves his fingers back up your body, stopping to squeeze your hips and then ghosting each of your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. “Did you know this is my favorite color? Even more so now. I’ll imagine it on you all the fucking time now.” 

Turning your face from Jihoon, you smile once again feeling shy even though you are enjoying his words and his attention. The sound of Jihoon’s laugh makes your skin feel like it’s on fire, especially when his lips hover over your collarbone once he is able to stand between your legs, finally close enough to gain access to any part of you he wants. “You are so shy. God, it’s so cute, so sweet. It’s killing me. What am I gonna do with you?” 

You knew what you wanted him to do with you, but as much as you wanted to rush him and to get him inside of you there was something in your brain stopping you from doing that as Jihoon’s fingers turned your face back towards him to watch him stand back up in front of you. Your mouth falls open slightly as your eyes stay fixed on him, his nimble fingers carefully undoing the expensive shirt that you had admired more than once through out your date, and while you love the shirt on him you find that you love it on your floor even more. 

“Oh my god…” The soft exclaim leaving your lips makes Jihoon smirk, his ego inflating even slightly as he drops his shirt in the floor leaving him shirtless in front of you. He knew he was in shape, he worked hard on it and he had seen you look at him in his tanktops early in the morning at the office more than once to know you would be interested in seeing him like this. Running his hand along his abs, Jihoon grabs his belt and undoes it quickly as you squeeze you thighs together only for you to whimper when he pushes his knee between your knees and shakes his head. 

“As much as I want to see those panties get ruined, I wanna be the one doing it. Be a good girl for me and keep those thighs apart for me. I’m almost done, baby.” Nodding as you do as you are told, Jihoon moves his leg back and unbuttons his pants sucking on his bottom lip as he pushes them down in one swift motion. “That’s better. Now we are even, right?” 

You didn’t want him wearing anything. You could see the outline of his cock and it was making you equally shocked and feral. You wanted to get on your knees for him and show him what you could do with it, but at the same time you were too stunned to move, so instead you just nod and lick your lips feeling your mouth starting to water. 

Jihoon could understand the feeling as you lick your lips. He was doing the same looking at you, his eyes falling between your legs. He hadn’t been lying about wanting to ruin your panties. All he could think about was how wet you might be for him. He knew he was being cocky in hoping you might be soaking through your lace, but with how you were acting, he had a feeling he wasn’t that far off. 

“Can I touch you? Are you still okay, baby? Wanna keep going? I won’t make you—” Hearing you whine his name, Jihoon laughs understanding your answer to all his questions. “I just wanted to ask, angel. Trust me, I wanna keep going. Fuck, let me get you on this bed.” 

Gasping, you are surprised when Jihoon lifts at your hips and scoots you on the bed shifting you into the middle with almost no effort. Meeting your widened eyes, he grins moving to place one knee next to yours and the other between your knees as he looks down at you like you are a five course meal. “Didn’t think I’d move you?” 

“I–-you could have let me do it myself…” Shaking his head, Jihoon lift his hand to your shoulder pulling the strap of your bra down your arm before leaning to press his lips to your skin listening to your soft moans as he speaks against your soft skin. “I’d never ask you to do a damn thing when we are in bed. I’m gonna have you so fucking spoiled, baby.” 

Arching off the bed, you grab at the bedding under and carefully run your fingers through Jihoon’s hair for the first time as his lips find the swell of your breast over your lace. You moan not only to his words, the feeling of his lips against your skin, but also the feeling of his hair in between your fingers. You find yourself wanting to run your fingers through his hair all the time, not just in moments like this, but also when the two of you are watching a movie, laying in bed ready to sleep, or while he’s working…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you let out a soft cry when Jihoon’s teeth rake over your nipple, his fingers tugging your bra down from one breast so he can have access to your bare skin. “Fuck… You are so soft.” Swallowing hard at his own words, Jihoon shakes his head and runs his tongue around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a groan hearing your breathy sighs of pleasure. 

He wanted to have his lips on every single inch of your body if possible. If he could do it all at once he would, but he knew that was impossible so he was taking his time. Reaching behind your arched back, Jihoon undoes your bra feeling it give way under his fingers so he can pull it from your body giving him more access to your skin. As much as he loved the lace on your body feeling your bare skin against his was better. The feeling of your soft breasts against his face was heaven as he pressed kisses from one nipple to the other taking it into his mouth with a satisfied groan. 

There was no way to explain how good you tasted. Your skin tasted perfect on Jihoon’s tongue and he hadn’t even made it past your chest. His cock was leaking heavily in his briefs as he rolled his hips against your thigh, his own pressed against the wet lace covering your pussy. With each movement, each groan from Jihoon, he would rock his thigh against you drawing out another moan that would cause his cock to jerk. 

“So good. You sound so pretty, baby. Just taking my time...” You were too drunk off the feeling of Jihoon’s mouth and body against yours to be upset that he was taking his time, but you could tell that he was. You had never had someone move so slowly with you. If it had been any other man in your bed, their cock would have already been in you without much or any prep, and it would have been done in moments—but Jihoon was slowly making his way down your body, kissing every mole and scar as he went. 

When Jihoon did finally reach your hips, you bit your lips, feeling his fingers push into the sides of your panties, resting over your hipbones. Glancing down at him, your breath quick and uneven, you meet his eyes and see him smile before he presses a kiss just below your belly button. 

What happens next leaves you breathless when Jihoon’s tongue runs from your mouth just above your ass to your mound over your lace, letting him taste you through your panties. Smirking against the lace, Jihoon meets your eyes once again as he nips at your pussy through your panties, feeling your thighs quiver on either side of his head. Only when whispered pleads are falling from your lips does Jihoon’s fingers finally start to tug your panties down your legs so he can drop them to the floor along with the rest of your clothes. 

“I told you I wanted to ruin them. I always keep my promises, babe.” Jihoon watches you swallow hard as you try to catch your breath, already feeling the coil in your stomach starting to tighten. “Now let me see you.” Spreading your legs once again, Jihoon groans as he watches the candlelight hit your glistening folds. He had been right about how wet you were. He was starving for you and he wasn’t done worshipping you. 

Running his fingers along your legs from your ankles to your thighs, Jihoon keeps his eyes on yours as he lowers himself back between your legs to press a kiss to each of your thighs before doing the same to your wet pussy. 

Licking his lips, Jihoon closes his eyes to the first real taste of you, a shiver running through his body before he adjusts between your legs and pulls you closer to him, making you gasp. One hand wrapped around your leg at your hip, Jihoon spreads your folds, while with the other he carefully circles your dripping hole with his index finger before working it in feeling you clench around it. 

“Shit… Tight. Gotta relax for me, okay, baby?” Jihoon watches you nod even though you aren’t sure how he expects you to relax when he thrusts his finger into it, and it feels so good. You aren’t sure how he wants you to stop clenching around his finger tightly when he finally runs his tongue between your folds and groans finding your clit and sucking on it. You only manage to push down on his finger and tighten around it more. “Fuck, taste so good.” 

Leaning his head back to shake his hair from his face, Jihoon smiles when you thread your fingers back into his hair. Not only does he enjoy the feeling of your fingers in his hair, but it also lets him get back to work. With a second finger joining the first, Jihoon’s mouth is back on your folds. He gently sucks them into his mouth and hums in appreciation as he once again works his way back up to your waiting clit, flicking his tongue against it, causing you to practically scream his name. 

You had been so quiet up to that point that when you scream his name, Jihoon closes his eyes and ruts his hips into the mattress, afraid he is going to cum from just the sound alone. The pressure that had been building inside of you comes to a head and with one more brush of Jihoon’s fingers against your spot, you come undone. 

Tugging tightly at his hair, you whimper Jihoon’s name much quieter this time as your cum seeps around his fingers. Groaning to the feeling of his hair being pulled and the taste of your cum on his tongue, Jihoon carefully slips his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue until you are closing your thighs around him and begging him to stop. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Jihoon sucks the fingers of his other hand clean as he watches you catch your breath. Smirking around his fingers, he watches a smile spread over your lips when you realize he’s watching you closely. “Stop it… I’m shy.” 

“I know. I’m not sure I ever want you to lose that. It’s driving me crazy.” Putting his hand next to your head, Jihoon rests back between your legs so he can kiss you softly. The feeling of your hands tracing his sides makes him shiver and grin against your lips before he deepens the kiss. Groaning into the kiss, Jihoon finally pulls back to look down at you as you stare up at him breathless once again, an almost fucked-out look on your face before he’s even been inside of you. 

“Gotta have you, baby. Will you let me?” Whining his name, you nod to Jihoon’s words, watching him smile once again as you squirm under him. “Gotta be patient. I gotta…” Moving to the side, Jihoon groans as he tugs his briefs down his legs, hissing as the air hits his hard cock. “Better, now I can—what’s that look for?” 

Your eyes had widened almost dramatically by the time Jihoon had turned back to you. Holding back his laugh, he tilts his head and glances down at his cock, lifting his brow before reaching for your hand and guiding it to his shaft, helping you wrap your fingers around him. “Was it about my cock? I'm not that big, baby… So tell me what’s going on in that pretty head.” 

Shaking your head, you bite your lips as Jihoon guides your hand along with his to his head, collecting some pre-cum so he can stroke his cock slowly. “It’s perfect… God, I sound so stupid, but you’re…like everything.” Lifting your free hand to hide your face, you groan in embarrassment, feeling Jihoon’s hand fall from yours, letting you do the same. 

“Baby…” Now he was laughing, but you could tell it wasn’t at you. Instead, Jihoon was enamored by you. He had been falling for you before and now he had fallen, hard. Moving your hand, Jihoon kisses your fingers and palm before doing the same to your cheeks and lips. “Thank you, it’s not stupid. You’re perfect. You make me feel so good about how I look. I hope I do the same for you.” 

He had done more than that. You were no stranger to being self-conscious, but with how Jihoon had spent what felt like hours worshipping your body, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Nodding, you lean your head against the pillows and pout. Jihoon smirks, reaching up to push his thumb against your bottom lip. 

“Now… Can I make love to you? Cause that's all I wanna do in this bed. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of doing since... Fuck, I can’t even tell you how long.” 

You hadn’t expected those words from Jihoon. You didn’t know that he wanted to make love to you. Love was such a scary but wanted word for you. You wanted to love him, and maybe you already did, but you weren’t going to say it out of fear of scaring him away. “Please, it’s what I want, too.” 

Fingers once again move over your skin, trailing along your side to your hip as Jihoon nods. His lips find yours before quickly moving to your jaw and then your neck, causing you to throw your head back against the pillow with a moan. Before you could feel his cock throb behind his briefs, but now it lay heavy against your thigh and pre-cum was leaking on to your skin with each sound dripping from your mouth. 

“Please... need you.” 

Jihoon loved how shy you were, but he also loved hearing you tell him what you wanted. You needed him. Needed. He’d give you the world, but tonight he’d make sure you had everything you wanted before he’d let himself have a single thing. “Anything, baby. It’s yours.” 

Jihoon’s words are muffled against your throat as his fingers slide along your leg to your knee, pulling it up to his hip. You gasp, feeling his finger brush through your folds, before you feel the same thing with the head of his cock and finally the stretch of him pushing into you slowly. 

You had felt like heaven on Jihoon’s fingers and tongue, but it was nothing compared to how you felt around his cock. Even before he was completely inside of you, Jihoon felt like he couldn’t breathe with how tightly you were holding him and with how your body was pulling him closer. 

“Sh-shit… fuck.” Resting his forehead against your shoulder, Jihoon stays still, his hips flush with yours, feeling your walls quiver around him. He waits for you to tell him to move, not just to make sure you have adjusted but also to give himself a moment to calm down. He felt like he could cum instantly. It had been too long since he had been with anyone and you felt better than anyone he had ever been with. It was like you had been made for him specifically. 

Rubbing your hands along his arms, you feel tears collect on the rims of your eyes as the stretch eases and becomes pleasure. You find yourself wanting Jihoon to move, needing him to move, and wanting to feel his cock deeper, harder, and faster. Leaning your head towards his, you kiss his temple and whisper, “Move, please, Hoon.” 

He starts slow, each thrust smooth and precise, but quickly as your and his breath become more moans than anything, the thrusts become urgent and full of need. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” You weren’t sure why Jihoon’s words made you clench harder around him. Why did hearing him whine your name as he fucked into you so hard as his fingers moved to lace with yours against the mattress make you feel like you were floating? 

Jihoon grunts before his lips find yours once again, his kiss desperate and passionate. He nips at your lips before licking his tongue into your mouth, feeling your tongue against his own. There is something different about this kiss—more heated and important than any other kiss than any other kiss that either of you have shared with any other person in your life. Both of you seem to feel it as your fingers tighten in his grasp, the feeling of electricity passing between your touch and his as the coil in your abdomen snaps once again. 

While Jihoon had loved the feeling of you cumming on his fingers, feeling you cum on his cock was another thing all together. He could barely keep his head as he watched the bliss take over your face, the way your lips parted, and how your eyes fluttered closed. It was enough to push him over the edge right behind you. 

Panic takes over Jihoon; you hear him curse under his breath and feel him slip from you before the feeling of his warm cum hits your lower stomach and thighs. Groaning, he strokes his cock, feeling it soften in his hand. It wasn’t how Jihoon would have preferred to finish, but you had felt too good and his climax had almost snuck up on him. 

Leaning to rest his head against your chest, Jihoon takes a deep breath, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he listens to your heart racing. “I gotta get you cleaned up. That was not the plan. I’m sorry, babe.” Jihoon places a kiss to the top of your breast before meeting your eyes, a shy look in his eyes as you shake your head and smile at him. 

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. I—” Laughing, you turn your head embarrassed, lifting your hand to bite at your thumbnail, making Jihoon curious at what you were going to say. “What? Hey, come on. Tell me?” Gently pulling your hand from your lips, Jihoon tilts his head, shifting from between your legs to your side. 

You swallow hard and glance down at your stomach and legs to where his cum paints your skin before sighing and avoiding his eyes as you speak. “You could have stayed inside of me. I’m on birth control, Jihoon.” 

Laying back on your bed, Jihoon runs his hand over his face with a groan, feeling his cock twitch slightly to your words. “You can’t say something like that to me. I can’t get hard again this quick.” Rolling off your bed, Jihoon glances around before pointing at your bedroom door as you laugh, watching him try to orient himself. “Bathroom is across the hall.” 

You were doing your best not to act like things were different between you and Jihoon, but the moment you stepped into the office, you were hyper aware of every little detail. You would realize you were staring at his door too long or that you were smiling at him just a little too widely before you’d quickly look away and fiddle with something on your desk. 

Jihoon, on the other hand, wasn’t that concerned. He was enjoying your lingering glances and seeing a smile on your face. He wasn’t being subtle about how he was looking at you. Why would he be? You were so beautiful and his. He wanted to scream that at the top of his lungs, but he could tell that you were still nervous about it so he kept his affection for you subtle at first. 

Gentle touches to your shoulder that would move to your neck when he thought no one else was looking or whispering compliments against your ear as he leaned behind you to look at something on your computer. He was just observing your work; no one could blame him. 

It was all driving you crazy, and neither of you were being as subtle as you thought as Soonyoung smirked at the two of you from his desk. He knew about the date and now, watching as you sighed with a lovesick look on your face as Jihoon closed his door, leaving you to work, Soonyoung laughs under his breath, drawing your attention. “What? Why are you laughing at me?” 

Putting up his hands, Soonyoung grins and turns his chair back towards his desk before leaning back in it so that he can still look at you. “You’re cute, Y/N.” Mocking your soft sigh, Soonyoung puts his hand on his chest and your cheeks heat up instantly. You hadn’t even realized you had been doing it, but hearing it come out of Soonyoung’s mouth made it obvious. 

“What am I missing?” Lifting his brow, Wonwoo taps his pen against his desk as he leans forward, curious about the conversation he was being left out of. You looked like you had been caught doing something bad and Soonyoung looked like that cat who ate the canary. “Mingyu, do you know what Soonyoung is going on about?” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu looks from you to the other man and purses his lips before shaking his head and looking back at his computer. “I don’t know. Y/N has been breathing louder than usual today... I just figured she had a cold.” 

Nodding along with Mingyu’s words, Soonyoung gestures towards you and laughs under his breath. “She is sick, aren’t you? Love sick?” Shocked at Soonyoung’s words, you try to defend yourself when Mingyu looks up surprised; now the conversation has his attention. 

“I—what? No…that’s—shut up, Soonyoung.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes hearing Soonyoung teasing you. He knew it was bound to happen. He didn’t care if any of them knew about the relationship between you and him. He was proud to call you his, but listening to you try to come up with an excuse was making his blood boil with something akin to jealousy. Jihoon didn’t want you to say there wasn’t anything between the two of you or that you were seeing anyone else. You were his, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Just as you start to say something else, come up with some excuse as to why you are acting the way you are. Jihoon’s office door opens and the room falls silent. Glancing around at each desk, Jihoon lifts his brow at the shift in the air before laughing under his breath. “Idiots…” 

“Huh?” Your sweet, confused voice brings Jihoon back to his reason for leaving his office in the first place. Looking down at you, he coos and shakes his head, running his fingers along your cheek leaving you frozen in place. “Not you, baby. Those idiots. I have to run out for a bit. Keep this place running for me.” 

Nodding, you swallow hard as Jihoon calls you baby in front of everyone. Not daring to look around even though you feel eyes on you, instead you meet Jihoon’s eyes and his possessive gaze. “Thank you.” You start to respond, you aren’t even sure what—maybe a no problem or a you’re welcome—but Jihoon’s lips brush over yours and any thought that was in your head is gone as if it never existed. 

Frozen in place, you only manage to watch Jihoon pull his car keys from his pants pocket as he walks by Soonyoung’s desk and pushes his chair inwards. “Work on something, moron. Earn what I pay you.” 

The sound of the office door closing and low whistles bring you back to reality. You feel the heat radiating from your cheeks and neck before you look down, smiling at your keyboard, unsure what to think or do. 

“Holy shit, Y/N.” 

“No, see… ‘Cause I knew they went on a date. I just didn’t know it went THAT well. I want all the fucking details, baby.” 

The voices of the others in the office overlap as they continue to gossip about you and Jihoon, wanting you to give them anything, but you can only focus on the feeling of where Jihoon’s lips were. 

“She’s gone. We’ve lost her. Nothing left in her head. What do you mean you knew about it, Soonyoung?” 

Even a month into a relationship with you, Jihoon finds himself needing to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. He can’t get over how lucky he is as he watches you with Haein and how natural this all comes to you. 

When he had adopted Haein, it was difficult. She had been a baby and there was a lot that Jihoon didn’t know. Luckily he had the support of his mother, but there was still a huge learning curve and a ton of sleepless nights filled with a crying baby, but he had a feeling that you would have picked up on motherhood so naturally. 

“Isn’t Y/N dress so pretty, Haein?” 

Your cheeks heat up as you glance towards the kitchen, seeing Jihoon smirking at you from behind the island as he preps dinner. Not only was the compliment from him making you weak but also just the sigh of him doing something so incredibly domestic. You loved this more than you had admitted to anyone. Yes, you had let it slip here and there to family and friends how much you were falling for Jihoon and this family dynamic, but you had never said it to him. 

“It’s the mostest pretty. She’s the prettiest! I hope I can grow up and be as pretty as you, Miss Y/N.” Haein’s voice causes your chest to tighten and your heart to beat hard as you look at her sitting across from you at the coffee table. Shaking your head, you reach out to run your fingers over her cute face, hearing her giggle as she leans into your touch. 

While you had fallen in love with Jihoon, you had fallen in love with Haein in a completely different way. You wanted this little girl in your life in some shape or form, no matter what happened between you and Jihoon. She had become far too important to you over the space of a month. 

“You are so pretty, Haein. You are only going to get even more beautiful.” Tapping the tip of her nose, you watch the girl smile brightly at you as her shoulders rise and fall with a big breath. Jihoon’s smile matches Haein’s before he sighs and shakes his head, feeling his heart beating harder now. 

“My beautiful girls. How did I get so lucky, huh?” 

While Jihoon’s words make Haein giggle, your fingers holding hers as you paint them a soft pink, the words have a different effect on you. You smile but you have to bite at your cheek to keep back your emotions as Haein sighs dramatically and shrugs. “Just lucky, daddy.” 

Noticing how quiet you’ve gotten as he puts the chicken into the pan, Jihoon grins at his daughter before turning his attention to you. He knew you were trying to do a good job at painting Haein’s nails, but there was something on your mind. He knew that look—your brows furrowed and your lips pursed slightly—but before he has the chance to ask if you are okay, Haein’s voice once again feels the empty space, completely unaware of anything going on. 

“Daddy, can I have soda? I’ve only had one today. Ask Miss Y/N. I’ve been really good!” 

The look on your face is quickly replaced by fondness as you look up at Haein reaching for her other hand. Tilting your head, you glance over to Jihoon, meeting his eyes and smiling at him as you wait for his answer about Haein’s soda, putting him on the spot. 

“I—this feels like a trap. The rule is one soda a day. You’re using Y/N to get your way... That seems unfair, Haein.” Jihoon can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips when Haein tries to pout, but a laugh quickly takes the place of it and she sighs, looking at you for support. 

“Tell him, I was real good. Wasn’t I? I cleaned my room, almost. Least the clothes. That’s prog-dress!” 

You want to be on Jihoon’s side and tell her to stick to the rules, but the moment she tries to quote Jihoon and mispronounces the word progress, you lose any hope at telling her no. Whining softly, you look from Haein to Jihoon and tilt your head only to see him roll his eyes and lean his head back with an annoyed groan. “Fine, one more soda, you little cheater.” 

Looking down at her fingers as she wiggles in place, Haein waits for you to finish the last one before she stands and starts to move towards the kitchen, only to hear you gasp her name. “Haein, baby, let me get it for you. Your nails aren’t dry yet.” 

You hadn’t called her many sweet names before, so hearing you call her baby like her daddy had before puts a pout on Haein’s face as she moves to your side and wraps her arms around your neck. “Okay, Miss Y/N.” 

Furrowing your brows, you put your arms around Haein at the sudden affection, looking towards the kitchen where Jihoon watches as he finishes up dinner. You can see the happy, enamored look on his face as he simply nods at you and turns to pull plates from the cabinet. 

Brushing your fingers through Haein’s hair, you lean your head back to look at the girl, seeing a pout on her lips that causes your smile to drop almost instantly in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

Nodding, Haein looks down shyly before muttering, “I just like you a lot. I hope my daddy lets you be my mommy. Is that cheating?”

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard as you shake your head and lean your head forward, resting your forehead against Haein’s and running your hand along her back. “No, it’s not. You know your daddy was kidding before, right? He’s just picking on you about the soda.” 

You hear Jihoon moving in the kitchen, perhaps getting closer to you and Haein in the living room, but you keep your attention on the little girl in your arms as she sniffles. It isn’t until you feel the couch dip behind you and feel Jihoon’s arm move around you so that he can run it over Haein’s head that you know for sure he’s joined you both. 

“What’s this about, huh? Soda? I said you could have it. I even made the chicken you like.” 

Glancing up at her dad, Haein pouts at him and it almost breaks Jihoon’s heart as she slides from your arms and moves to him letting him hold her closely. “Hey, seriously, what’s going on?” Leaning back against the couch and Jihoon’s legs, you sigh softly and tilt your head back enough to meet his questioning eyes. Haein had spoken quietly and Jihoon must not have heard what she said. You knew you needed to tell him why she was acting like she was, but it was a lot to say to your boyfriend of a month. 

“Uh, she’s okay, I think. Just… said she likes me and said that she hopes—um.” Licking your lips, you look down away from Jihoon, hoping it will make it less awkward to say. “That... you marry me and then she asked if that was cheating.” Laughing softly, a bit awkwardly, you press your lips together as Jihoon whispers, “Oh,” under his breath and rocks Haein gently. 

“No, baby… That’s not cheating. Hey, I like Y/N. So, so, so much. Let’s leave the adult stuff like mommy and daddy stuff to us though, okay? That’s important business, not chicken dinner business.” 

He was good at this, being a dad. You knew it wasn’t what he had planned but to you, Jihoon was made for it. You watched as Haein’s frown slowly turned into the smile you loved and quickly she was giggling as Jihoon’s fingers ran along her sides, tickling her. Jihoon had her nodding and then running towards the dining room table ahead of you both with the promise of soda before you could even think of the right words to help. 

Taking a deep breath, you lean your head back while keeping your eyes clear of Jihoon’s. You could still feel the warmth plaguing your cheeks and when Jihoon’s fingers brush over them so does he. “Someone is embarrassed.” Rolling your eyes, you do finally look at Jihoon before leaning away from his hand, causing him to laugh and reach further to pinch your cheek. “It’s cute, baby. She likes you that much. That’s a huge deal.” 

You knew it was; you honestly didn’t need Jihoon to remind you. It was weighing on you like a ton of bricks because what if Jihoon didn’t like you that much? Nodding, you sigh and move to your feet as Jihoon’s eyes stay on you. “Mm, well, like you said, this is not a chicken dinner business, Mr. Lee. Come on.” Offering him your hand, you finally smile, and Jihoon matches it, sliding his hand into yours. 

Collecting dishes while ignoring Jihoon’s complaints, you move around to Haein’s empty seat before slapping at his hand as it slides along the back of your leg near your ass. Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you lean around the wall to look at Haein playing with her dolls. 

“Quit, Jihoon. She might see and how are you going to explain that one to a five-year-old? Do you want to explain the birds and the bees this early?” 

Grinning, he slips from his seat and slides his hand along your arm, taking the plates from your hand hearing you whine even as his lips press to your cheek. “She’s not even in the room and she’s not paying attention. Go, I’ll put these in the sink and then I’ll get her to bed.” Lifting his brows, Jihoon watches as you sigh and tilt your head, not wanting to give up. “Shoo. I wanna spend time with you tonight and I can’t until the little monster is asleep.” 

You want to keep pouting or maybe stoic at Jihoon’s words, but it’s impossible when he nudges you and practically whines his words to get you moving. “Fine, fine. Hurry up.” Watching him over your shoulder, you move into the living room towards Haein, sitting on the couch behind her. It’s easy to tell she’s tired even as she pretends not to be, something you know she tends to do especially when you are around wanting just a few more minutes with you. 

Trying to hide her yawn in her elbow, Haein looks up at you with a big smile but you can see the way her eyes are watering from such a big yawn. “Hi sleepy girl. Are you ready for bed?” 

Shaking her head, Haein pouts dramatically, picking up the brush for her doll's hair as she leans back against your legs, letting you hold on to her. “No, not yet. I want you and daddy to tuck me in tonight. Dat okay? You’re not too sleepy, right?” As if she’s suddenly concerned you might be too tired to help her, Haein looks up at you searching your eyes, but only sees your smile. 

“I’m not tired. I’d be happy to help your daddy.” 

Wiggling happily in your arms, Haein looks toward Jihoon when he finally moves into the living room. Lifting her doll towards him, she giggles and leans back against your chest as if she’s claiming you. “Miss Y/N is gonna help tuck me in.” 

Rolling his eyes, unable to hide his smile, Jihoon sighs and nods. “I heard, so why don’t you get your booty moving then, huh?” 

Patting Haein’s stomach, you hear her laugh before she starts moving, grabbing the rest of her dolls and running towards the hallway and her room. Shaking his head, Jihoon groans under his breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, following after her. “Haein! What did I tell you about running in the house?” 

You stay where you are for a moment longer, enjoying seeing yet another domestic moment from Jihoon. You wanted to capture little moments like that and put them in a book that you could look back on and remember for the rest of your life. You wanted to remember the feeling of Haein in your arms, her sweet laugh against your ear, before she happily ran off only to see Jihoon halfheartedly grumble about some rule that he wasn’t that strict about. This was your happy place now. 

Hearing your name from the other room, you move to your feet and finally follow Jihoon and Haein into her bedroom. You see Jihoon putting her dolls back into her toy chest as Haein, now dressed in her pajama’s smiles at you from her bed, lifting her hands, making grabby hands. 

“I’m coming; don’t worry.” 

Looking over his shoulder, Jihoon scoffs seeing Haein reaching for you as you sit on the side of her bed, pushing her covers up to her chest. “Why am I here again? To put up toys?” 

“Daddy…” 

“Yeah, yeah…” 

You smile when Jihoon sits on the other side of Haein’s small bed and leans to press a kiss to her forehead. Sighing, he sits back and tucks the covers you had moved around her body as he lifts his brow, watching how big her smile gets as she looks from him to you and back. “What? Why are you looking at us like that?” 

Reaching for one of his hands and one of yours, Haein pulls them up to her lips, placing a kiss on each one before sighing happily. “Nothin’ daddy. Today was a good day. I love you.” 

Furrowing his brows, Jihoon lets out a slower breath and nods in agreement with his daughter. It had been a good day. “I love you too, baby.” 

You were trying not to let your emotions get the better of you as you rubbed your thumb along the back of Haein’s hand and pressed your lips together when she looked at you again and smiled brightly, reminding you of a mixture of Jihoon and the picture of Jihoon’s brother in his office. 

“I love you, Miss Y/N. I hope you sleeps good. Thank you for tucking me in.” 

Leaning your head back to stop the tears that had gathered on the rims of your eyes from falling, you nod and laugh softly as you sniff lightly before looking down at Haein. “You’re welcome and I hope you sleep good.” Looking at Jihoon, uncertain if you should say that you love Haein back, you see the fondness in his eyes so you simply smile and meet Haein’s eyes once again. “And I love you too.” 

It was a big step you had made with Haein and Jihoon with those three little words, but you had meant them. Haein was thrilled to hear them, leaning up to hug you tightly before curling up back into her bed and whispering her goodnights to you both. Jihoon kept his eyes on you, reaching for your hand as he walked through the door, only stopping to close it behind him, telling Haein he loved her once more before letting it click behind him. 

You were nervous and Jihoon could tell. He could feel your hand trembling in his; he could feel how you almost wanted to pull away from him, but he wasn’t going to let you spiral. Instead, he pulled you back to him as soon as the two of you were in the living room and held you close, resting his lips against the side of your head. 

“Thank you, Y/N. That meant a lot to her and to me.” 

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly, resting against Jihoon, feeling his fingers run along your back as he soothes your nerves. It was scary to be this close to someone emotionally and yet it was all you wanted when it came to Jihoon and Haein. When you weren’t with them, it felt like you were homesick. 

“Mm, I was hoping that it wasn’t crossing the line. I never wanna do—”

Shaking his head, Jihoon leans back and cups your cheek in his hand, causing you to stop speaking mid sentence. You can see the look in his eyes. He didn’t want you to finish what you were going to say. You were always doubting yourself, especially when it came to him and Haein, and perhaps you didn’t need to. 

“Enough of that, please? You are so important to us. You’ve never crossed a line. I—” Sighing, Jihoon slides his fingers down from your face to your neck as he looks over your face, trying to think of the right thing to say. You hear the slight whine in his voice, the nervousness that he has to fight in order to get out his words. “I love you, Y/N.” 

The tears that you had to fight back in Haein’s room weren’t nearly as easy when it came to Jihoon. Turning your head from him, you close your eyes and still tears manage to slip on to your cheeks before you can reach up to wipe them away. Concerned, Jihoon leans his head towards yours and gently turns your face back towards him to see you smiling, a soft whine of protest slipping from your lips that makes him laugh when he realizes you are okay. 

“I thought—why are you crying, baby? I didn’t mean to make you sad.” 

Shaking your head, you reach up with one hand to hold Jihoon’s wrist as you open your eyes and pout at him when you see the smile on his face. “I’m not sad, Jihoon. I’m really happy. I’m so happy that it’s stupid. I don’t deserve any of this.” Gesturing towards the hall behind him, you sniff back more tears as Jihoon reaches up with his free hand to swipe away your tears with his thumb. “Not Haein loving me and especially not you.” 

You watch as Jihoon’s head tilts in confusion, as if your words were in another language that he couldn’t possibly understand. Reaching for your hand, Jihoon sighs under his breath and walks you a few steps backwards as you whine his name until you feel the wall behind your back. “Says who? You deserve the world, Y/N and if it’s the last fucking thing I do, I’ll make sure you get it. So don’t you say shit like that. I meant what I said. I love you. So, if you love me too…” Sighing once again, Jihoon looks nervous once again, almost avoiding your eyes until he makes himself meet them so you know he’s serious. “Say it back.” 

Jihoon was one in a million. You think back to that day when you walked in, nervous and falling over your feet at your interview. You had sat down in front of him and the other men who you now called some of your best friends, but you had made eye contact with Jihoon first. Never in your life did you think that you would end up where you are now and be able to look at him and tell him exactly how you were feeling. 

“I do, Jihoon. I love you.”

Sighing in relief, Jihoon rests his forehead against yours and smiles softly. You feel his hands slide along your arms down to your hands, where he links his fingers with yours. He stays like that for a moment until he can’t stand not to have your lips on his and then he gives into his need and tilts his head, finding what he wants. The soft sigh that leaves your lips causes Jihoon to furrow his brows as his right hand tightens in your left before he drops your right and slides his hand along your side, pushing you tighter against the wall. 

Jihoon speaks against your lips between kisses, “I gotta get you somewhere else. Fuck, baby… I’ve been thinking about this. About you all day.” 

Leaning your head back as Jihoon brushes his lips against your jaw, you smile, feeling shy, though you know it’s just the two of you in the room. You knew that Haein was in her room and hopefully asleep, but you knew it was better if the two of you didn’t start something like this in the living room. Jihoon’s confession of his thoughts about you makes you swoon as you whine his name, pulling at his hand and leaning towards the left and the hallway that would take you both towards his room. 

“Mm, I know. You’re right.” Kissing your neck, Jihoon relishes in the sound of your choked moans before he pulls away, feeling how tight his pants have gotten from just kissing you. Tugging on your hand, he glances over at you, seeing that look in your eye—the one that quickly became one of his favorites. You still seemed so innocent even though Jihoon had ravished you in his bed and yours more than once over the span of your relationship. You were batting your lashes at him, looking down and smiling like you were shy about the entire situation, it was driving Jihoon crazy. 

Pushing open the door to his room, Jihoon feels you pull towards his bed, only for him to guide you back towards him. “Nu-uh, baby. Not yet… I have other plans for us. How does a bath sound?” 

Biting at your bottom lip, you can’t help the way your lips pull up into a giddy smile at the idea of taking a bath with Jihoon. You loved every moment with him. He made you feel like royalty no matter what the two of you were doing, but in bed you were his goddess, and he took his time with you. You could only imagine how good he could make you feel with warm water surrounding your body. 

Nodding, you keep your fingertips resting on Jihoon’s as he leads you into his large ensuite before he finally drops your hand and moves to the oversized soaker tub, turning on the taps as he sits on the side of the tub. You had been in his bathroom a few times, but it never ceased to amaze you just how different he was living compared to you. 

You were used to a small bathroom with a shower tub combo, and Jihoon’s ensuite had an open shower with a rainshower head, a soaker tub, and a double vanity. It was almost overwhelming how much space there was, and you find yourself daydreaming about what Haein had said and if you might end up here one day. How would you ever really adjust? It was nice for a visit, almost like a luxury vacation, but could you handle this every day? 

Jihoon watches you as you seem to wander in the bathroom, your fingers running over the quartz countertop as his fingers trail through the warm water that was beginning to rise in the tub. You were almost overwhelming and stunning. He could watch you forever, just enjoying being in your presence. If it weren’t for the small pout on your lips and the need racing through him, Jihoon might let you keep wandering, but instead he reaches for your hand and brings you back to reality and to him.

“What were you thinking about so hard, beautiful?” Reaching behind you, Jihoon finds the zipper of your dress and slowly pulls it down, letting his other hand rest on your hip as you look down at him thoughtfully. 

Shrugging, you lift your hand and run it through Jihoon’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead before smiling with a shake of your head. “Nothing important. Just admiring the bathroom. It’s really nice.” 

Taking a look around the room quickly, Jihoon shrugs a bit and tilts his head as he lifts his hands and slides your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall on its own to the floor at your feet. His eyes move from your face down your body as he takes in a deep breath of appreciation for what’s in front of him. 

“You’re worth admiring, baby. I’ll never get over this. If I get the chance—” Smiling to himself, Jihoon bites his lip and leans to kiss your stomach before gaining the courage to finish his thought. “If I get the chance to, I wanna undress you every day for the rest of our lives.” Glancing up at you as he reaches to gently tug the straps of your bra down your arms, Jihoon gauges your reaction before he smirks. “Is that too forward?” 

You understand the implications of what Jihoon is saying, but you aren’t sure how to answer or if you remember how to breathe, so instead you just whine his name. Whining Jihoon’s name was something you were good at. He seemed to understand what you were trying to say anytime you did it, so you hoped he would this time as well. 

Shaking his head as you whine, Jihoon stares as more of your skin is exposed, each cup of your bra falling forward, allowing your breasts to spill out for him. “I know, baby. It’s okay, just let me take care of you.” Reaching behind him, Jihoon turns off the water and returns to his task of undressing you. 

With each piece of clothing that hits the floor, his lips walk over your skin and he leaves you breathless and dripping. Gripping at Jihoon’s skin, you find yourself whimpering when he takes your hands, pulling them from his shirt so he can stand up and take a step away from you. 

“Here, angel. Get in the tub for me.” Taking Jihoon’s hand, you let out a happy sigh as you step into the warm water, feeling the warmth run from your toes to your head instantly. Settling into the water allows you to finally look up at Jihoon, and you realize he is still dressed. He had spent his entire time undressing you and getting you comfortable before he had even paid himself any attention. 

“Hoon… I—why didn’t you let me help you? Come here, baby.”

As much as Jihoon loved hearing you call him baby and as much as he wanted your hands on him, he was enjoying the sight of you in the water even more. Shaking his head, he smiles and works the buttons of his shirt open, quickly dropping it on the floor as you pout up at him. “Don’t pout, baby. Lay back for me... Shit, you look so beautiful. Does that feel good?” 

Jihoon watches as you do as he asks; you do lean back and you think you might “punish” him for not letting him touch him by touching yourself. You quickly find that it has the opposite effect on him; he doesn’t feel punished. Instead, Jihoon feels honored to see your fingers move over your body and between your legs. 

Nodding to Jihoon’s question, you move your legs apart further, letting him see through the clear water as you drag your middle finger through your folds over your clit. “Yeah, it does, but Jihoon?” 

Groaning to the sound of your voice, Jihoon tugs hard on his belt, pulling it loose quickly. “Yeah, baby? Fuck, you are killing me.” 

“I want you in this tub with me. Can you go faster?” 

That was all the inspiration Jihoon needed to get his pants and briefs off in record time. Kicking them free of his foot, Jihoon curses under his breath as he moves towards the tub, keeping his eyes on your fingers under the water. He had been enjoying the visual, but now he was getting possessive. He was a jealous man and that came to even you touching yourself. He preferred to be the one making you moan. 

Getting into the tub behind you, Jihoon slides his legs on either side of yours before reaching around your body to grab your hand and pull it carefully from your pussy. With his lips next to your ear, Jihoon grins and takes your hand from the water, bringing your fingers to your lips as he sighs. “Enough of that. I’m here now, but tell me... How does my beautiful girl taste?” 

Opening your mouth, you let Jihoon put your fingers on your tongue before closing your lips around them and sucking them clean. There isn’t much of your taste on them after being in the water, just enough that to know that you were wet despite being in the tub. Leaning your head back to pull your fingers from your mouth, you take a breath and lick your lips. “Okay, but not as good as I know you taste.” 

Jihoon knew differently. He knew that you were the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. Letting go of your hand, Jihoon runs his fingers between your breasts and over your stomach until he finally can dip them between your legs to where your fingers had once been. Turning his fingers slightly towards his palm, he works two of his fingers into your warm entrance as you moan his name. 

You were already clenching around his fingers and Jihoon knew starting with two was pushing you, but between the water and how slick you felt, he knew you could take it. He could feel your pussy sucking his fingers in as your clit started to throb against his palm. “Such a good fucking girl. I love this pussy so much.” Turning his head towards yours, Jihoon presses a kiss to your neck and groans as he rocks his hips against your ass and back, letting you feel his hard cock pressing against you. “Baby… I’m gonna fuck you so full.” 

Resting your head back against Jihoon’s shoulder, you hold on to his thigh under the water as his fingers thrust into you, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Between his fingers and his words, Jihoon was taking you to the edge and he wasn’t looking back. “Please, please, please... Oh, my god!” 

Water moves like a wave as you arch your body hard, pushing against Jihoon’s fingers to fuck yourself on them as you ride out your orgasm. Gasping loudly, you close your eyes tightly and dig your nails into his thigh before falling slack against his body, your thighs shaking. 

“Goddamn, babe. That was so fucking hot.” Sliding his fingers from you, Jihoon’s speaks against your neck between kisses. “I gotta see your pretty face. Please, honey?” Kissing up to your ear, Jihoon runs his fingers back up your stomach to your breast, squeezing gently as he practically begs you to turn around in the tub to face him. 

With a deep breath, you nod once you feel like you can move. Letting Jihoon help you move, you shift on his lap to sit on over his thighs. “This better?” 

Able to see you and touch you, Jihoon runs his hands along your sides to your hips and around to your back as he leans back in the tub. This was much better. This was like a dream. You had asked to ride him a few times, but each time you had seemed shy when the moment came. Now you were in the perfect position to do it. “Much… I can see your face and—” Reaching down to stroke his cock, Jihoon lifts his brows as he nudges his head between your folds, causing you to gasp and jerk in surprise at the feeling. “You can sit on my cock.” 

Jihoon had talked dirty to you in bed, but there was something about tonight. He was extra confident, and you didn’t hate it. His confidence was something that had drawn you to him in the first place. There was something about a confident man who wasn’t overly cocky. Jihoon was the type of confident person who knew when to still have humility, and in bed wasn’t one of those times. He could worship the ground you walked on and the bed you laid on all while having you whining his name. 

“Hoon…” His name comes out like a gasp on a breath as Jihoon teases your clit with the head of his cock once again, feeling you roll your hips towards him. Hissing under his breath, he lifts his eyes towards yours as a smirk pulls at one side of his lips. Holding on to your hip with one hand, the other still holding his cock, he coaxes you up and helps you ease down over him inch by inch until you are sitting flush over his hips. The warmth of your pussy enveloping Jihoon completely causes him to feel like he’s going to explode. 

“Feel so good. God, baby. So, warm and tight. Holding me so good.” Jihoon nods as you whine out a yeah in question. “Yeah, angel. You are perfect. When you’re ready, just let me know. You can ride me or I can move. Up to you, honey.” 

Leaning your head forward as the stretch becomes pleasure, you hold on to Jihoon tightly with your arms around his neck. A moan slips from between your lips when you roll your hips over his cock, feeling him almost deeper than you have before. The sensation is both overwhelming and satisfying, making you want to do it again and again. 

“Jihoon… Oh, my God.” You speak between breathy moans as you try to keep a pace, rocking your hips over Jihoon’s, lifting your hips, and using your knees to fuck yourself over his cock, but it’s too much. You quickly start to get tired. Between the drag of the water and the pleasure building slowly in your abdomen, you get frustrated and cling to Jihoon as he watches you intently. 

He had known this would be one of the best experiences of his life. But Jihoon also knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace you were going for too long. You were his pillow princess and from day one Jihoon had promised not to make you do anything in bed; he aimed to keep that promise even out of bed. 

Sliding his hands along your thighs with a low groan, Jihoon finally finds your hips and grips them tightly. “I know, baby. Shh, let me do the work, huh?” Shaking his head in amazement of you, he rests his head back against the porcelain and keeps you in place with his hands as he thrusts his hips up hard. The sound you make is worth the water that splashes over the side of the tub, as it causes Jihoon’s cock to twitch inside of you before he thrusts again deeper. 

“Fuck…” While he knew that the two of you were on the other side of the house, Jihoon bit at his lips to keep his voice down. You were heaven to be inside of and to watch. Not only were you clenching around him like a warm, soft vice, but you looked like you were straight out of a piece of art. Jihoon wanted to run his hands all over your body, from the line of your neck as you leaned your head back to the swell of your breasts as they moved with each one of his quickened thrusts, and finally down into the water to where his cock was being squeezed so well. 

“Please, please… Oh, Hoon.”

Jihoon was right on the precipice of his climax. Each one of your moaned words was followed by whine and it was almost sinful how much he wanted to capture it on a recording so he could listen to it over and over again. He could imagine himself locked away in his studios on one of his many long nights with his hand around his cock as he listened to your fucked-out voice, remembering how good it felt to be inside of you. Remembering what was waiting for him once he got home. 

You, at home waiting for him. That was the thought that pushed Jihoon over the edge. Groaning your name, Jihoon holds your hip so tightly he’s afraid he might leave a bruise, but in the moment he just needs something to ground him. With his other hand, he slips it between your legs and listens to your moans get louder and higher in pitch as he urges you to follow him and to cum on his cock. 

“God, yes, that’s my girl. Cum with me. All over my cock, baby.” Nodding, Jihoon watches your mouth fall open and he feels your walls tighten and quiver around him as your orgasm rips through you. You had been wet before, but between his cum and yours, Jihoon finds himself slipping his fingers alongside his cock to feel the cum as it seeps into the water. “Told you I’d fill you up, pretty girl.” 

It was always a tight fit for you to take Jihoon’s cock so feeling the extra pressure of his fingertips next to his softening cock has you whimpering. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you lean in far enough to press your lips to Jihoon’s neck before complaining about the feeling and wiggling your hips hearing him chuckle under his breath. 

“Sensitive…” 

“I know you are baby. Can’t help myself sometimes. If we were in bed, I would have watched it run out of you.” 

Making a face, you scrunch up your nose and bury your face against Jihoon’s neck. “You’re embarrassing.” 

Wet fingers move over your head and down your back as Jihoon lets himself soften inside of you completely, neither of you in a rush to move too quickly. He laughs, feeling your cheek heating up against his skin and your muffled words. “Am I? You don’t like it? I love watching my cum dripping out of you. Means you’re mine...” 

Whining again, you nip gently at Jihoon’s neck, hearing him laugh before it quickly turns into a groan at the feeling. He knew what he was doing. There were many nights where one round would turn to two after, but you were just happy to be in his arms. “You are a control freak, Lee Jihoon.” 

You weren’t wrong. Jihoon smirks, lifting his brow as he sinks a bit further down in the water, knowing the two of you can’t stay in the tub for much longer. There was nothing clean about this water anymore and he needed to get you taken care of sooner rather than later. It was just difficult not to have you in his arms for as long as possible, and it was even harder not to keep you on his cock if he could. 

“So? You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with me.” 

Jihoon can feel your lips pull up into a smile and it makes his lips do the same. You did love him and he loved you. That wasn’t going to change. In Jihoon’s mind, you were it. You were his one and only. He had been taught that great love comes around once in a lifetime and he was holding on to his. 

Feeling warmth moving along your skin, you hum softly as your lips turn up in a smile against your pillow. While your bed at home was comfortable, it did not compare to Jihoon’s bed. Pulling your knees up towards your stomach, you snuggle with the pillow for a moment longer before stretching your hand out to where Jihoon had been the night before, when the two of you had fallen asleep. A pout takes the place of your smile when all you feel is satin sheets that have been warmed by the early morning sun. 

“Hoon?” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. Between just waking up and how much Jihoon had loved you the night before, you find your throat is dry and a bit tender. Clearing your throat, you sit up and glance around the room, only seeing specks of dust in the rays of sunlight that manage to peek through the blinds. 

Starting to say his name again, you stop when the sound of music catches your attention. It’s quiet and at a distance, making you realize that Jihoon is in his studio. Biting at your lips, you slip from the bed and pull on one of Jihoon’s button-ups along with a pair of shorts from the drawer dubbed as yours before you tiptoe out of the room and down the hall. 

You find the door cracked; trying to sneak in, you push on the door handle with one hand and the frame with the other. The song is one you don’t recognize. You can hear Jihoon singing quietly under his breath, no words fully formed and the melody still scattered and yet it is beautiful. 

Still tiptoeing and trying to stay quiet, you watch Jihoon working diligently on the project from a distance. He was always a hard worker, putting his all into anything he did—but this seemed different, this seemed even more important to him. 

Titling his head, Jihoon scratches at his scalp a bit annoyed as he reads over the music in front of him. This had to be perfect because it was—the sound of the floorboards creaking behind him makes Jihoon sit up straight before he spins his chair to find you wincing as you walk towards him like a burglar from a cartoon, one leg still in the air. While Jihoon wants to be upset that you are sneaking around and spying on him, he knows that isn’t what you are doing, and you look so cute that he can’t help but to laugh. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Shaking his head, Jihoon turns and quickly minimizes what he’s working on before leaning to grab your hand and pulling you to him to sit on his lap in his chair. Nudging his nose against your shoulder, Jihoon watches your eyes move to his computer as you pout and look back at him apologetically. 

“I heard music and I wanted to see what you were doing without bothering you. Plus, you left me in bed alone. I was missing you.” 

Sighing softly, Jihoon kisses the back of your shoulder as he presses his hands to your stomach through his shirt. “I missed you too. You looked too peaceful to wake up; besides, I got up a long time ago. You needed more sleep than me.” 

Turning to the side in Jihoon’s lap, you shake your head to disagree with him. In your mind, you didn’t need anything if it didn’t include Jihoon, whereas in his, he would do anything to make sure you were happy and healthy. 

“No, but I do love your bed. It’s so nice.” Gesturing to his computer, you rub your lips together as you tap your fingers along his arm, being tempted to reach for his mouse to reopen the project he was working on. “What were you doing? The song seemed really pretty. I’ve never heard it before.” 

Jihoon knew you were going to ask, but he was hoping he could distract you enough or get you on to something else with your day before you’d remember. Rolling his eyes in faux annoyance, Jihoon leans his head back, reaching over to his mouse to close the project, completely leaving it hidden on his computer. He hears you gasp when you can’t see it anymore on the taskbar. 

“It’s... a surprise. I’m writing a song for you and it’s not finished. So keep your greedy little paws off my computer, you hear me?” 

The idea of Jihoon writing you a song makes your heart swell with emotions. Staring at him, you aren’t sure what to do or say at first so you nod and then shake your head, hearing Jihoon laugh as he copies you. “You did hear me or you didn’t, Y/N?” 

“I did! I heard you, Jihoon, but... you, what? Really? For me? When can I hear it? Can’t I see it now? Oh my god, baby... that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me.” 

You were gushing and while Jihoon loved hearing you spiraling for a good reason, he wasn’t going to give in and let you see or hear something that wasn’t perfect. Shaking his head, Jihoon laces his fingers with your left hand and leans to kiss your neck with a soft hum. “No, you can’t see it now. It is for you and I will give it to you, I promise.” 

Scoffing, you lean into Jihoon’s kiss, listening to his words. He was giving you half answers. Whining his name, you lean away from his body some to see him better as he laughs under his breath and sighs your name in return as his fingers slide to play with your ring finger of your left hand. “Y/N… I—I’ll give you the song on our wedding day. How ‘bout that?” 

The answer stuns you and makes your face bloom with heat. Glancing away from Jihoon, you try to keep the tears that threaten to collect on the rims of your eyes from spilling over as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Hm? Does that sound fair?” 

When you nod, Jihoon grins against your hand and sighs. “Good, because I love you so much and I wouldn’t give you anything unless it’s perfect.” 

Jihoon watches your bottom lip stick out slightly as you pout tears finally making their way to your cheeks when you blink a few times trying to regain your composure only to fail. “I love you. You’re already perfect; nothing has to be perfect. Why would you say that to me, Jihoon? Don’t tease me.” 

Smiling, Jihoon shakes his head and pushes on your pout with his thumb before turning your face towards him so he can wipe away your tears. “Who’s teasing anybody?” 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[onlymingyus]

Late Nights

header edited by me (@chogiwapadada) do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; lee jihoon (woozi) x gn reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; unprotected sex, anal sex, dom!woozi, strength kink, if you squint slightly size sink, manhandling, fingering (anal prepping), humiliation (the reader feels embarrassed), impact play, pet names, recording of sounds without consent but reader finds out later and isn't upset*, mentions of food and eating

word count; 2.3k and some change

request; yes

a/n; *there is some things done without consent in this fic but i made sure to mention that the reader found out later and they had the option to tell jihoon to delete it and he would have. don't record without your partner knowing.

Jihoon groans, running a hand over his face as he sits down in his office chair situated in his studio. His hair is still damp from his most recent shower after working out. He could feel his muscles already beginning to scream at him, he knew he had pushed himself and he would be feeling the effects of going so hard in the morning but it was worth the results. 

Picking up his phone he doesn’t even notice the time when he presses his thumb over your name putting it to his ear. You furrow your brows in your light sleep before reaching for your phone pulling it to your ear before answering with a tired hello. Jihoon frowns and finally glances at the clock on his wall cursing. “Babe, fuck I’m sorry. You were asleep. It’s fucking 3 in the morning. Go back to sleep. I was just missing you.” 

You sit up shaking your head as you wipe the sleep from your eyes with a smile to his voice. “No, it’s okay Jihoon. Where are you?” You know the answer but smile anyway when he tells you his studio. “Aren’t you tired?” Jihoon grins at the tired sound of your voice as he leans his head back for a moment before using his other hand to open some files on his computer. “No. I’m hungry. I just got done with my work out.” 

Smiling you toss your legs over the side of your bed before reaching for a pair of sweatpants pulling them on. “I can bring you something.” Jihoon laughs, biting at his cheek as he can hear you getting dressed. “No, that’s okay. I can order something. Babe, you go back to sleep.” 

A breath falls from your lips as you balance the phone from hand to hand as you pull one of his hoodies over your head barely hearing the last part of his sentence but you knew what he was saying. “I’m going to come bring you something. Besides, you can’t call and say you were missing me and not expect me to come see you.” 

Jihoon closes his eyes to your voice and stifles a slight groan at the thought of seeing you. It had been a couple days. “I won’t lie…I’d love to see you. Just be safe, yeah?” You smile at his words and bite at your own lip hearing his small groan as you pause at your front door sliding your feet into slides before picking up your house keys. “Course Jihoon. See you in just a little bit.” 

It usually only took around 20 minutes to reach Jihoon’s studio but stopping for food made it closer to 45 minutes. So by the time you pushed at the door with your foot you weren’t surprised to meet little resistance as Jihoon opened it and met your eyes with a relieved sigh. “Here let me help.” You let him take the bags out of your hands as you smile at him following him inside the studio space. “I was starting to get worried.” 

“Well I had to stop and wait for them to get the food ready. I came as quickly as I could.” You watch Jihoon put the food down on his large desk away from any equipment before he moves back to you and grins at you as he reaches up to put his hand around the back of your neck pulling you down slightly to press his lips to yours. You can’t help but to laugh against his lips as you feel him pull you further into the room as he walks backwards. 

“Jihoon…” He hums on your lips as he turns you towards the wall and then starts walking you backwards as his mouth moves to your jaw. “The food.” He nods and gestures back at it. “Fried chicken was a great choice. It tastes better as it sits in the containers.” You laugh again but it’s cut short as your back hits the wall and Jihoon’s hands grab yours pushing them along the wall as his mouth moves along your neck. 

“I missed you so much. I thought…” You whine into a moan as he speaks between kissing and nipping at your skin. “I thought I’d be able to wait for a while but once I saw you in person. Fuck…babe. I had to have my hands on you. My mouth on you.” His hands let go of yours in place of moving to your hoodie so he can push it up your stomach. 

“I missed you too. You are always so busy. Locking yourself away here or in the gym.” You whine as he tugs the hoodie over your head and tosses it on the floor before doing the same with your shirt. His lips move back to your skin making small marks on your shoulder as he listens to you before speaking. “I know, I’m sorry. I just got lost in a to-do list. I’ll try harder.” 

Jihoon groans as your fingers graze over the front of his shorts as you grip at his erection through them. He laughs and looks at your face to meet your eyes before tilting his head when you mutter about him already being hard. “I was hard the moment you picked up the phone and sounded like you do after I fuck you into the mattress. The tired, fucked out voice when my cock has been down your throat.” 

You feel your cheeks burning as he speaks so openly about your sex life. You felt embarrassed but you loved how dirty it made you feel. Jihoon’s thumb runs over your warm cheek making him click his tongue into his teeth as he grabs your wrist and quickly turns you towards the wall pushing you against it. You loved when he showed you how much stronger he was than you. 

Jihoon kisses your shoulder as with one hand he pins your wrist behind your back, your chest pressing against the wall. His free hand moving to push your sweatpants and underwear down. You suddenly realize just how naked you are in comparison to him as he is still dressed. “Jihoon…your clothes.” 

He laughs and bites at your back lightly before nodding. “What? I’m still wearing them? I know what I’m doing. I like seeing you like this.” You whine and push back against him making him groan before his free hand slaps at the side of your thigh as he uses his body to press you against the wall. “Stay still, be good for me.” 

You nod as he moves your hand from behind your back before grabbing your other hand putting them on the wall. “Don’t move.” Sighing you close your eyes feeling the slight tinge of embarrassment again knowing he is looking at you standing like this bare in front of him against a wall as he takes a few steps back. 

Jihoon sighs under his breath before running his hand over his mouth at the sight. You were so good for him, your legs slightly parted, your hands flat on the wall. Your cheek pressed to the wall. He ran his hand over his bulge before getting undressed making you wait for him. Only when he saw your thighs beginning to quiver from impatience did he move back towards you. You moan into a loud gasp feeling his fingers run between your cheeks over your tight hole, Jihoon’s fingers covered in slick lube. 

You hadn’t even heard him open the bottle but he had been more than prepared. Jihoon smirks at your reaction as you roll your hips over his fingers, his hard cock heavy between his own legs. “Can I ruin this pretty little hole?” You nod at his question, licking your lips as he works a finger into your ass carefully. 

Jihoon hisses as he works a second finger into you as he glances down watching how you clench around him, you were sucking him in so tightly. “Perfect. You did miss me huh?” You whine his name and nod as your fingernails dig at the wall slightly. “Shh patience.” 

You didn’t want to have patience. You want his cock, you want him to keep his promise and to ruin you. When you push back hard, rolling over his fingers as he scissors them into you, Jihoon uses his free hand to push on your hip to push you away slightly. “Are you that desperate to get fucked?” You nod and he smirks as he works in a third finger hearing you let out a lewd moan. 

“You will be but I don’t want to hurt you. I love you too much. As much as I want to ruin you it’s only to ruin you for anyone else. Do you understand?” You nod and Jihoon’s hand slaps your hip making you whine as his finger plunges into you. “You know how to speak. I bet if you did…it would be the voice I love to hear so much so talk to me.” 

“Yes. I understand. I don’t want anyone else.” Jihoon’s eyes roll back in his head at the way your voice sounds. Slightly raspy, stuck in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath as his fingers fuck into you. “Fuck…are you ready?” You whine out a yes and Jihoon slides his fingers out of you before this time you do hear the sound of the cap of the bottle of lube as he spreads some over his cock. 

“Jihoon…” He laughs as you whine impatiently. “Save your breath, you are going to need it.” You furrow your brows and you know he is right when he lines himself up and slowly thrusts into you taking your breath away. When you gasp Jihoon stays still only reaching up to brush his hand over your cheek as he looks at you making sure you aren’t in pain. When he sees the look of pleasure spread over your face he smirks. 

“Take a deep breath.” You do as you are told and slowly let it out relaxing around him before he snaps his hips towards your ass pushing you against the wall hard. Moans falling from your lips as any softness is lost on him from that point as he fucks you. One of Jihoon’s hands holds on to your hip as watches himself enter you over and over again. 

The sounds that slip from your lips are so sweet and loud Jihoon finds himself smirking as he glances back at his computer to watch the recording ticking along. “That’s right baby. Nice and loud for me.” You whine and nod feeling your legs beginning to shake from your impending climax. Your knees beginning to give out as you moan his name loudly, Jihoon wraps his arms around you quickly keeping you from falling as he groans your name. 

Jihoon’s lips press against your back as he closes his eyes tightly, his fingers pressed against your stomach as he thrusts into you hard and fast as you fall apart on his cock. When you clench around him so tightly he finds himself following you as he spills into you, his own legs beginning to shake slightly from standing for so long. 

As you both come down from your climaxes, Jihoon laughs quietly as he presses kisses to your back slipping out of you. He is quick to grab his discarded towel from his earlier shower using it to clean you up making sure the cum now dripping from your legs doesn’t get on to any clothes or any part of his studio. 

Jihoon’s eyes meet yours as he helps you sit down after he pulls his hoodie back over your body leaving your bottom half uncovered. You can’t help but to smile at the look on his face as he looks a little guilty when he leans away to press stop on his computer. “Jihoon!” He laughs and bites his lip with a shrug. “Completely for personal use. I swear, but I’ll delete it if you want me to…or…” 

You lean your head to the side as his hands run along your legs as he sits down in his office chair still naked. His bedroom eyes still on full display as he looks at you, but there is a level of mischief to them as he smirks. “I could also send it to you after I clean it up and edit it. Then we can both enjoy it.” 

Jihoon leans to kiss you softly as you give him a faux glare making him laugh on your lips. “If you put any of that cheap porn music under it, I will kill you.” Laughing he shakes his head and sighs looking at you as he leans close before finally pulling away to pick up his shorts pulling them on. You watch as he slides the bags of food closer, taking them out one by one so you both can eat. “I can’t believe you don’t have more faith in my producing ability than that.” 

You smile at him fondly as you watch him eat a piece of chicken as he puts away that project safely for another time before moving to his real project before he gestures at the food for you to eat. “I will, I’m just resting. I’m not as used to late nights as you are.” Jihoon smiles at you with food in his cheeks before nodding. “Nap if you need to babe. I just enjoy your company.” 

The burn in your legs and hips make you scoff into a laugh as you pull a blanket over your legs moving to lay on the sofa watching Jihoon work. “You have an interesting way of showing it.” Jihoon laughs again without turning around before you watch him quickly get into the zone, his soft hums along with his fingers moving over keys lulling you into sleep. 

—————————————————————————–

tag list; @bangchanbabygirlx if you want to be added to the tag list send me a message

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[taesjpq]

Jealousy part. II

genre — best friends to lovers, fluff, smut MDNI!! pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — read part 1 hehe, this is pure smut (with plot) word count — 8,7k (part II)

I highly recommend reading part 1, first, or this probably won’t make much sense.

Warnings and notes under the line.

Notes: mention of san (ateez) and sangyeon (theboyz)

Well… it’s finally here!! it’s been a while, so even if you’ve already read part 1, I recommend giving it another read before diving in – this picks up right where it left off. Enjoy, and please scream & shout at me about how you liked it!! it’s my first time writing smut, so be kind (but also honest hehe) ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, switch!mingyu (CAUSE I KNOW HE IS), switch!reader, needy mingyu (yes that’s a warning), semi-public situations (they're not getting caught at all), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), consent emphasized, breast play, dirty talk, edging, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that!!), cockwarming, aftercare implied, excessive use of “fuck” and “shit” (because i can’t stop it) 

21:12 

"Woah." 

Hoshi and Wonwoo storm inside, the door swinging shut behind them. "I almost turned into a damn tree waiting out there. Thought you guys were pretending not to be here." 

There’s a pause. His eyes flicker around the room—searching. 

"For whatever reason," he adds, dragging out the words before shooting Wonwoo a look, wiggling his brows. Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, balancing bottles in both hands. 

Usually, Mingyu would roll his eyes, maybe even smack Hoshi for a dumb comment like that. But right now? His mind is too hazy, too full—still tangled up in you. 

The second you hear their voices, you go. 

Straight to the bathroom. Fast enough to escape, slow enough not to raise suspicion. The door clicks shut behind you, just shy of a slam. 

Your hands grip the sink. Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed, cheeks burning, lips—fuck. 

You look wrecked. 

Your hair is a mess from where Mingyu had leaned too close, your lips are swollen from nothing but a brush, and your skin still tingles where his breath had been. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Inhale deep. Try to steady yourself. 

Because they’re out there. He is out there. And you need to act normal. 

So you force it all down, splash cold water on your face, and when you step out of the bathroom, you do what you do best. 

You pretend. 

"Why the hell wouldn’t you guys pick up my call? I was going crazy. Do you know how much I paid yesterday for your shit?" 

Hoshi sprawls out on the couch, his voice loud and dramatic, while Wonwoo sets the snacks and bottles down on the table. 

That’s how Hoshi expresses his worry—through complaints, through exaggerated frustration that’s half real, half just him being Hoshi. Usually, Mingyu would respond. Would roll his eyes, laugh, tease him back. 

But right now? 

Mingyu isn’t listening. 

He can’t listen. 

He sinks onto the couch, still lightheaded. Still caught up in the last few minutes. 

Hoshi is talking—something about the night, something Mingyu should probably respond to—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s still in the kitchen. Still pressed against you. Still feeling the ghost of your lips brushing his. His whole body is tense, his skin too warm, his jeans way too fucking tight. 

He shifts uncomfortably, subtly adjusting himself before grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap. He tries—really, really tries—to focus on Hoshi. To nod at the right moments. To act normal. But all he can think about is how soft your lips felt, how you looked at him. The way your lips parted just slightly, like you were going to— 

"So tell me, what did you guys do today?" 

Fuck. 

Mingyu freezes. 

What—what is he supposed to say? That you guys—? No. No fucking way. 

His stomach tightens. His jeans—shit—feel impossibly tighter. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him. He wasn’t even drunk, but it was too hot in here. Too much. Too you. 

"Umm…" he mutters, fingers pressing to his temple, trying to come up with something—anything—normal to say. 

"Nothing much," you say, stepping into the living room. Too casual. Too even. "Just ate, watched something. Pretty chill." 

Hoshi hums, unconvinced. 

And Mingyu—Mingyu forgets how to breathe. 

His eyes drag over you—your face, your lips. Your legs, where he was between them just minutes ago. 

Shit. 

His grip tightens on the pillow. 

"Yeah, of course," Hoshi says, voice laced with suspicion. But thankfully, he shrugs it off, already moving on to another topic. The conversation shifts, flows into something else. 

But Mingyu doesn’t. 

He stays still. Because you don’t look at him. Not once. 

Since the second you walked into the room, since the moment you spoke, you haven’t spared him a single glance. 

And fuck, that does something to him. 

Fingers clenched. Jaw locked. Heart pounding. 

Because this isn’t over. 

Because no matter how much you pretend— 

No matter how steady your voice is, how carefully you avoid his gaze— 

He knows. 

He knows now.

22:12 

"Well, I was supposed to go out with the other guys tonight, but of course, you guys come first," Hoshi announces dramatically, stretching across the couch. 

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his phone. "Why are you lying? You were the one who insisted on coming here and dragged me along." 

Hoshi huffs and lightly smacks Wonwoo’s arm. "Shh, be quiet." 

But then, as if the thought just occurred to him, Hoshi perks up. "Actually… now that I think about it, I could've brought them along. They’re pretty cool." 

He pauses for effect, then smirks. "Especially Sangyeon." 

There’s something in his tone—something teasing—that immediately puts you on edge. 

"You know what?" He grins. "I should introduce him to you. He might be your type." 

Your head snaps up. 

And so does Mingyu’s. 

The air shifts in an instant. 

“I—uh, I’m actually pretty picky, so don’t bother.”  

“Come on, it can’t be that complicated. What is your type, anyway?” 

Your mouth opens, then closes. 

 And before you can stop yourself, before you can think—your gaze flickers to Mingyu. 

Shit. 

You regret it immediately. The moment is too fast, too obvious. Wonwoo catches it instantly, his sharp eyes reading your expression like an open book. 

"Just leave her alone with your nonsense," Wonwoo says, his voice even, unimpressed. "Maybe worry about finding your own girlfriend first." 

Hoshi gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Hey! I’m trying to help! It’s been years since she’s had a boyfriend!" 

Your stomach tightens. You can’t sit here any longer. 

Mingyu doesn’t look away. He just watches.  

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, you need to get out of here. Now.  

You force out a laugh, pushing yourself to your feet. "I think it’s time for more drinks." 

"Want some help with that?” Wonwoo asks, still half-distracted by his phone. 

"No!" It comes out too fast, too desperate. You cringe at yourself but don’t stop. 

You don’t wait for a response—you just go. 

The moment you step into the kitchen, you exhale sharply, setting the glasses down and gripping the counter. 

Just breathe. In and ou— 

“Need help?” 

His voice. 

Casual. Too casual. 

He’s there—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shoulders broad, completely unbothered.Taking up too much space. 

An annoyed smile tugs at your lips. Why can’t he just leave you alone? 

“I thought I was being clear,” you mutter, staring ahead. 

A slow, knowing hum. Amused. Mocking . “I’m just being nice. Like always.” 

And he’s enjoying this—teasing you like this. 

You shake your head, you shift, pulling open the fridge. “Good. Then don’t be like always.” 

Mingyu straightens, uncrossing his arms, a soft chuckle. 

You grab a couple of bottles, setting them on the counter before reaching for the glasses in the cabinet. 

He doesn’t move. Just staying there at the door frame. Watching you. 

“Yeah? And how exactly do you want me then?” 

Your grip tightens around the glass. 

Mingyu. You little shit. 

You inhale, forcing yourself to keep your back to him. “I need you to be quiet. Just quiet.”  

“Oh, I can do that,” he murmurs, voice lower, rougher. 

You don’t dare meet his eyes. You don’t even turn around. Instead, you keep your gaze on the glasses in your hands—like that’s all you came here for.  

“I think you know how.” 

You let out a breath, stepping toward him like it’s nothing. 

“If you’re done, here, make yourself useful.” 

His smirk deepens. You’re trying so hard to act unaffected, but he sees it—the way your fingers tremble slightly, the way your breath catches.  

Mingyu tilts his head. Slow. Calculating. “I thought you didn’t want my help?” 

You shoot him a glare. You scowl. Why does he have to be so goddamn annoying?  

And worse—why does he have to look this good while doing it? 

But before you can fire back— 

Your phone rings. 

You glance down at your pocket, hands too full to reach for it. You sigh, shifting everything toward Mingyu. 

He looks at you. A beat of silence. And just when you think he’s going to take the bottles— 

His hand moves. 

Not for the drinks. 

For your phone. 

No hesitation. No second-guessing. 

His fingers brush against your waist as he lifts the hem of your shirt—just slightly. 

His fingers curl around your phone. He pulls it out, his gaze flickers down to the screen. 

San. 

The name rolls off his tongue. He’s heard it before, here and there. Was it someone from work? 

His eyes flick back up to yours, searching. “This late?” 

You swallow. “Give it back.” 

You step forward, but he doesn’t move. 

His grip tightens around your phone. He should just hand it over. He should step back. 

Instead, the words slip out—low, unfiltered. 

“Why is he calling?” 

You blink. 

Shit. It wasn’t a question he meant to ask. It wasn’t something he even thought about saying. It just fell out of him. 

“What?” 

The call ends. Silence. 

Mingyu doesn’t answer the question. Neither do you. 

Before you can figure out what's happening, he smiles. But not just any smile.That slow, knowing, devastating kind. 

And then—He puts it back, back into your pocket. 

Ding. 

A message. 

He tilts his head. 

Ding. Ding. 

“Must be important.” 

Another message. 

“You close?” 

His voice dips lower. 

You open your mouth, but before you can answer— 

“How close?” 

Something shifts. 

The teasing is gone. 

He sees the realization flicker across your face. You notice it now—the difference. 

No smirking. No amusement. 

Just— 

Jealousy. 

Your lips twitch. 

This is fun. 

Your turn now. 

“This close,” you murmur, taking a few steps back. 

His brows furrow slightly. 

“Or this close?” 

You step forward again. 

His fingers flex. His jaw tightens. 

Now he gets it. 

Now you’re right in front of him. So close, almost touching. 

“Or maybe… this close?” 

So close you feel his breath. The way his chest rises. The way his hand twitches at his side. 

Your gaze flickers down to his lips. Then back up. 

His breath stutters. 

Your voice drops, barely above a whisper. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Mingyu moves before he can think. 

His hand grips your waist. Your back. Pulling you into him. 

His body is so warm. So solid. 

And then— 

“I doubt you two are this close.” He leans in. Just slightly. 

His breath ghosts over your lips, his fingers flexing against your waist.  

The cold of the drinks and glasses in your hands presses against his chest, against his stomach—a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. It makes his breath hitch. You can feel it, the bottles and glasses pressing against your breasts, and you wonder what it would have been like if they weren't there. 

“You didn’t even think about checking his messages,” he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Too smooth. And then—lower—right against your ear—  

“I have you right where I want you.” 

A sharp inhale. 

“YAAA!!”  

Hoshi’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade. 

Neither of you move. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

“MY DRINKS!! WHERE ARE MY DRINKS!!”  

Mingyu should step back. He should let go. 

He watches the way your chest rises. The way your lips part. The way your fingers tremble, just slightly, against his arm. He could end it right here. Close the space. Kiss you senseless. 

He wants to. God, he wants to. 

But the voices in the living room—too close. 

He doesn’t know how it would end. Doesn’t know what you’d do. What he might do. Not when his pulse is this loud, not when you’re looking at him like you already know. 

Not now, he thinks. 

Because if he moves even an inch closer—  He’ll do something stupid. 

Right then where you think he would lean in —again 

he takes the bottles and glasses from your hands. 

Turns and walks out of the kitchen. 

Leaving you standing there, heart racing. 

Mingyu—smirking to himself. 

He chooses restraint. For now. 

00:34 

Your night plays out like it always does. 

Mario Kart on the Switch, followed by rounds of drinking games, laughter bubbling up with every sip, the room alive with energy. It’s become routine—getting tipsy with the guys, letting the evening slip into a blur of noise and warmth. But tonight, something’s different. Your mind isn’t on the game; it’s on him. 

Mingyu. 

You’re counting down the minutes until this all ends, until you can finally be alone. 

Alone with your thoughts. 

“Okay, last round, Hoshi,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Yes! Yes!” Hoshi hurls himself into the couch, already grabbing his drink before the race even starts. Predictably, he loses again. 

You don’t even flinch, too distracted by the way Mingyu leans back against the couch, his eyes casually glancing at the screen but his attention fully on you. He’s sitting there, relaxed—his messy hair falling perfectly in a way that makes you want to reach out and fix it, even though you know he’d just mess it up again. 

His black t-shirt is slightly stretched from his movement, and as he shifts to grab another drink, you catch a glimpse of the chain hanging loosely around his neck. It glints in the dim light, you gaze down to the sharp line of his jaw to his exposed collarbones. 

You try to look away,  but every movement he makes seems deliberate, as if he's doing it on purpose. 

“PLEASE! LAST ROUND, PLEASE!!” Hoshi’s voice rings out, exaggerated and dramatic, dragging you back into the room. Mingyu chuckles, his lips curling into that effortless smirk. 

“Alright, let him have another round,” he says, voice deep and calm, a little too calm, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second. 

It’s enough. 

Your heart stutters. You’re hyper-aware of everything. He rolls his sleeves up, just slightly, as he takes another drink. The biceps of his arm flex as he lifts his glass, you can see the veins along his forearm. It’s suddenly so warm in here and you can feel the way it pulls you closer even though you haven’t moved an inch. 

He doesn't need to try. He just is. 

He knows it, too.  

“YAAA!! THIS CAN’T BE!!” Hoshi wails, the chaos pulling you out of the moment. His controller crashes to the floor in exaggerated despair. 

You sigh, laughing despite yourself, the sound escaping your lips like a small release. For a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been thickening the air all night finally breaks, but it lingers—just out of reach. Your eyes flicker to Mingyu, and in that instant, you catch him. Staring at you. Not just a glance, but a look that lingers. 

He’s watching you, watching the way you sit there—knees on the floor, bare legs beneath you. But it’s not just the way you’re sitting, it’s the way his shirt clings to your skin, your posture, your eyes, your lips... everything about you seems to pull him in. His thoughts begin to drift, and before he can stop them, his mind’s running down a path he knows he shouldn’t be on. 

No, he thinks. Not again. 

He drags a hand over his face and thunks his head back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. He exhales slowly, a forced calm. Focus, Mingyu.  

He can’t afford another hard-on tonight. Not with everyone around. 

But he knows. You both know it. 

It’s going to be a long, torturous night after all. And it isn’t ending anytime soon.

02:46 

Hours have slipped by, blurred by laughter and the bitter tang of alcohol on your tongue. The room is warm, dimly lit,—half-empty glasses, crumpled snack bags, the low hum of music still playing somewhere in the background. 

You’re exhausted, but wired. The kind of tired where everything feels a little too slow, a little too heavy. 

A soft snore interrupts your thoughts. 

You turn your head. Hoshi, sprawled out across the couch, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world. 

You blink. "Well. There he goes." 

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh across from you, tilting his head toward the couch. "Took him long enough." 

"It’s always him," you mutter, shaking your head. 

"It was Wonwoo first." 

"Wonwoo doesn’t count. He chooses sleep." 

Mingyu grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, his dark, tousled hair—slightly messy from the long night—falls over his forehead, the dim light catches the sharp line of his jaw and suddenly, you’re aware  that its just the two of you now. The laughter fades, leaving something quieter in its place. 

And then it happens. 

That look. 

Mingyu leans his head back against the couch, watching you in that way that makes your stomach twist. His gaze is dark, unreadable, and smirking. you feel it—lingering too long on your face, dropping to your lips.  

He’s fucking smirking at you.  

Like you guys didnt kiss each other just hours ago.  

Your breath catches. Heat pools in your stomach, climbs up your spine, wraps around your throat until your face burns. It’s impossible to ignore the way your body reacts to him, impossible not to remember the way he felt pressed against you, the way he almost— 

No. 

You need to move. You need to do something—anything—to break the tension before it swallows you whole. 

So you stand up. 

Quickly. Too quickly. You busy yourself with the mess on the table, grabbing empty glasses, snack wrappers—anything to keep your hands occupied, your mind distracted. You can still feel his gaze pressing into you, following your every movement like a weight on your skin. So you just move yourself to the kitchen. Yeah, that damn kitchen. 

To escape. To escape him. 

But of course, he follows you. 

You focus on the counter, setting things down with a little too much force. You reach for an empty glass, then hesitate, frowning. Where does this go again? You open a random cabinet. Wrong one. You try another. Wrong again. 

Mingyu leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you struggle. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt, and the sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that makes your fingers itch to touch. 

"Need help?" 

"No." 

"You sure?" 

"Yes." 

You find the right cabinet—finally—but as you reach up to place the glass inside, it slips. Not enough to fall, but enough for Mingyu to react. 

He leans in slightly, voice lower now. "You seem a little distracted." 

You exhale sharply, setting the glass down before you drop it for real. "I’m fine." 

He hums, unconvinced. 

Silence settles between you. Mingyu doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. Instead, he watches you—closely. His gaze lingers as you slowly place the glass in the cabinet, like he’s studying every movement, every flicker of hesitation. You feel it—his eyes, the weight of his attention pressing into your skin. 

"You’re bad at this, you know," he murmurs. 

"At what?" 

"At pretending." 

Your pulse stumbles. 

"I’m not pretending," you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be. 

He laughs teasingly, not really believing you.  

"You’re also bad at drinking games," he teases, his voice low, laced with something deeper. He leans against the counter, too close. "Honestly surprised you’re still standing." 

You roll your eyes, feigning confidence. "It takes a lot to get me down." you say, your voice steadier than you feel. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin. "I’m not even that drunk, actually."  

"Oh, yeah?"  

He steps closer.  

No. Please, no. 

You almost whine.  

Not again. Not when you’re still weak from earlier. Not when you still feel the ghost of his breath on your skin, the way he nearly kissed you, the way he almost had you.  

You swallow hard, nodding—but it’s weak, almost shaky. And he notices. 

"So, you weren’t really that drunk yesterday? Was all of that just an act?" 

His skin glows under the kitchen light, sweat dampening his forehead, his neck. His lips are pinker than before, and when he tilts his head slightly, your knees almost give in.  

“I dont know what you mean- I-" Your voice falters, and you curse yourself for how obvious it is. He's always been able to read you, hasn't he? 

He smirks. But he knows it all too well. Without touching you, he moves. His presence alone pulls you backward, guiding your body against the counter. You find yourself pressed against the edge, your breath caught in your throat. He doesn't touch you, but it feels as if he’s controlling every inch of your movement. 

Finally, his gaze softens, but the intensity remains. He reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, the touch light but electric, sending a shiver through you. “Your cheeks are giving you away,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. “Mingyu, stop.” you whisper, as you push against his chest, it causes him to step back, just a little. His arm wraps around yours, pulling you right back into him. The movement is fast, and before you can fully react, you’re pressed against him—your chest against his, your breath shallow as you’re forced to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.  

He exhales, voice deep, teasing, but his eyes betray him. "Why? you’re not gonna ask me to stay this time? Not gonna ask me to sleep with you?"  

"I don’t even remember what I—" 

"But I do." 

He doesn’t let you go. 

He leans in, hand ghosting along your jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize it. His warmth seeps into your skin, into your bones, unraveling something inside you. 

“You were looking at me like this,” he murmurs, forehead resting lightly against yours. “Exactly like this.” 

You can feel every word against your skin. His eyes don’t leave yours. 

“Mingyu, I—” 

“You held me here.” He traces your hand over his chest, down his abs, his touch slow, deliberate. “You asked me to stay, told me not to leave”, a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers that moment. “Shit, I thought you were fucking with me.” 

Your throat goes dry, a tightness spreading through you as his nose brushes against yours.  

“You said please,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. He slowly pushes you against the counter.  

“Say it again" he whispers, the word coming out like a plea, thick with want, yearning—almost as if he's asking to kiss you.

“Please,” he whispers. It’s barely a sound—more breath than voice—but it carries everything. A plea. A need. Like he’s not just asking for a kiss, but for permission to fall apart in your hands. 

Your chest tightens. Your fingers move before your thoughts can catch up, curling around the back of his neck, drawing him in even though you’re already impossibly close. 

His breath hitches at the movement, eyes locking with yours. And there, in the quiet space between heartbeats, he knows. 

Then he kisses you.  

Soft at first. Barely there. It’s slow, careful—his lips brushing yours, like he’s learning the shape of you through every careful pass. 

Then again—deeper this time. More sure. 

His hands find their way to your cheeks, holding you, steadying you, like he can't pull away even if he wanted to. He hums against your lips, a soft relief, like he's been waiting for this. And he was. 

But the moment his mind catches up with the taste of you—he’s lost. 

The kiss turns desperate, all softness bleeding into something needier. Like if he stops, even for a second, it might all slip away. 

Your hands are everywhere—roaming, exploring. He nudges you gently until your back hits the counter, the edge cool against your spine. Your palms press to the surface behind you, steadying yourself as the bottles shift and clink under your touch. 

“Mingyu—” 

“No—”,he’s already kissing you again. 

Your protest is cut off, swallowed by his mouth, his kiss harder now. Like he’s trying to erase every reason not to. 

His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing in, grounding himself in you. His chest brushes yours, heart pounding. 

“We should—” he exhales, his voice cracking, his lips barely leaving yours. “We should stop, right?” 

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath, brushing against the skin of his stomach. He’s warm, feverish beneath your touch. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, lips still brushing his, “they—hmh-they could come in…” 

Shit. He knows. He really fucking knows. But he’s too far in. He should stop—he knows that. But how’s he supposed to do that? When you're looking at him like that? He tried to be good. He really did. But with you like this? He’s already too far gone. 

“Mmh,” he exhales, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We should stop before...” 

But even as he says it, his hands slide down, fingertips grazing your thigh. He looks at you, like he’s checking—like he needs to make sure. And the way you're staring back? He gets his answer. 

He lifts your leg onto the counter. The bottles clink next you, sharp and loud in the quiet, like a reminder of where you are but — 

“Yes—mmh—we should stop before anyone—” 

But then he hums, low and rough, as his hand moves to your chest. Fingers glide up, brushing over your breast, and your breath stutters.  

“We should… fuck-” His voice trembles. “Go to sleep.” 

He’s trying. God, he’s trying. 

But his mind is lost in you. Like he’s clinging to every thread of control he has left. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper back, breathless. Your hand slides under his shirt again, feeling the way he trembles under your touch. 

“I should go to sleep…”, you smile to yourself.  

“Yes- We should go to sleep,” he says, pulling off his shirt. 

You watch his skin glows golden under the dim lamp, and when he runs a hand through his hair—black strands sticking up in every direction—you almost loose it. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but damn. 

He takes your hands, places them on his chest, his abs—letting you feel him. And then he kisses you again. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “I can’t… I can’t fucking stop.” 

You're still on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, even as his hands slide up, cupping your tits, grazing the edge of your bra, his mouth finding your neck. 

“Fuck— Mingyu,” you moan, soft but breathless. 

“Don’t do that,” he groans. “-Fuck.” 

You tug off your shirt, and he just stares for a second. 

Out of breath, hair a mess, half-dressed. This—this is what he dreamed about for far too long. 

You reach for his belt, pulling him back in. 

“We can’t be loud,” you whisper. “Be quiet, Mingyu.” 

He smirks like you’ve just dared him. Like being quiet is a challenge. 

He kisses you hard, pressing his dick against you—exactly where you want him. You moan into his mouth, hands in his hair, kissing him like this might be the last time. Because maybe it is. 

He trails kisses down your neck, then your chest—his mouth warm over your bra, licking and sucking. You feel everything, but it’s not enough. You need more. 

“Mingyu, don’t—don’t tease.” 

“We can’t be loud, right?” he smirks to himself. You whine in response. 

One hand cups your breast while the other runs across his lips, tasting you . You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet every moan that threatens to slip. His hands are so big on you, his mouth so unbelievably good. 

You pull him back to your lips, needing to feel him—needing to let those moans escape where only he can hear them. 

“More,” you breathe, your hand drifting lower, palming him through his pants. 

The alcohol is blurring your filter, but you don’t care. You want him. 

Still, he doesn’t give in. Not fully. Not yet. 

He kisses you deeper—your lips, your throat—grinding against you like he’s losing control. Like you’re the one driving him insane. He thinks he’s teasing you, but maybe he’s torturing himself just as much. 

You dig your nails into his back, kissing along his shoulder. The intimacy of it gives you goosebumps, sets your skin on fire. 

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands go to his belt, fingers working it open as your eyes meet his. 

“Shit,” he exhales. Mingyu shakes his head “Not here.” 

“Not here?” you whisper, almost whining. 

His hands find your waist again, sliding lower, between your legs. 

His fingers are a little cold, and the touch makes you gasp.  

“Mingyu-” 

“Spread your legs for me,” he says lowly, never breaking eye contact. 

You do. 

He moves slowly at first, teasing your clit, eyes locked on every little reaction your face gives away. 

Your mouth parts open slightly, breath hitching. 

“Hm? That sensitive?” he asks, speeding up just a little. 

A soft moan slips from your lips as you grip his arms, trying to steady yourself. 

And then his finger slides inside. 

Then another. 

While his thumb keeps working your clit, making you lose your mind. 

“You like seeing my hands between your legs?” he rasps, still watching you. 

You can’t even look away—neither of you can. 

He kisses you, and you moan right into his mouth. 

“You like the way that feels?” he asks. “So wet for me already…” 

You try not to, but his names slips out of your mouth.  

“Shit. Didn’t we talk about being quiet?”, voice low, watching you all desperate and squirming under his touch. 

And you can feel it building—right there, right under his fingers. 

“Fuck, yeah. Like this”, he whispers. You’re so close. 

His fingers move just right—fast, precise, relentless—and your body can’t take it anymore. It hits you all at once. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as the orgasm rolls through you.  

He doesn’t stop until you're done—his fingers slow down, helping you through it, letting you ride it out as your whole body shudders against him. 

Then he kisses you—soft, almost sweet, lips warm and slow. You melt into it, dizzy, still catching your breath. 

He smiles into the kiss, smug as hell. “You think they heard you?” 

You smack his chest, face burning, and he just laughs—loud, unbothered—and gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s nothing. 

“Time to sleep,” he says, all casual, like he didn’t just make you fall apart on the kitchen counter. 

You’re still dazed, legs weak, not even trying to get up when he picks up your clothes. And just as you’re wondering what now, he lifts you—hands under your thighs and back—carrying you. 

You bury your face in his neck, skin still warm, and you can feel him chuckling, chest shaking under your cheek.  

He carries you into your room, setting you down on the bed,you lean back on your elbows, chest rising and falling, still hazy from your high—but your eyes are locked on him. The soft light from the hallway hits his skin just right. His abs flex as he moves, still shirtless, just his jeans hanging low on his hips.  

You're supposed to be tired. You’re supposed to be done. 

But your body says otherwise. 

He notices your stare. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

You tilt your head. “Like what?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, almost flustered, but that smirk is back.  

“Like you want more. You know I lose control when you do that.” 

You lean forward, lips brushing into a small, wicked smile. “Hm, really?” 

He curses under his breath. 

You shift onto your knees, crawling closer to where he’s standing by the bed, teasing, until you’re eye level with his lips. You watch him closely, deliberately. His eyes darken, flickering down to your mouth. 

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters. 

“I’m just being like always,” you say, like it’s innocent—but the way you graze your fingers over his belt says otherwise. 

He laughs, low and rough. “You’re impossible.” 

Then he kisses you, hard, like he’s finally letting go again.  

Your hands move lower, reaching for him, cupping him as you finally try to undo his belt. But he gently brushes your hands away, shaking his head. 

“Mhh, no,” he says against your lips, voice deep and determined. “I’m not done with you.” 

His hand finds your waist, guiding you back down to the bed without breaking the kiss. You sigh into it, helpless under his touch.  

Mingyu slips off your bra, he trails kisses down your collarbone, your chest—slow. His mouth lingers on your breasts, lips and tongue teasing. You’re biting back a moan when he lightly sucks on your nipple. His other hand slides lower, down your side, until it reaches your hips. You gasp as his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties. 

He pulls them down slowly, watching every flicker of your expression like it’s something he doesn’t want to miss. Like he’s imprinting it in his mind. 

Then he kisses lower—over your stomach, your hips your inner thighs. His lips brush every part of you except where you want him most. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and it’s driving you insane.  

You breathe in sharply when his mouth finally finds you. His tongue moves in slow, careful circles over your clit, your fingers already tangling in the sheets. He’s gentle at first, like he’s still learning, but his confidence grows fast. And it’s not just skill—it’s the way he pays attention. The way he listens to every sound you make, every breath you take He groans into you, like he needs it just as badly. 

You can barely focus. Your thoughts are scattered. All you know is heat. His tongue. That pressure building again, way too fast.  

You peek down at him, and the sight almost ruins you. His eyes are half-lidded, completely focused —locked on yours. His brows slightly furrowed like he’s concentrating, feeling you, not just tasting. His grip tightens on your thighs as you move, and he groans against you—fuck, he’s into it. 

And in his head? He’s losing it. 

This is all he ever wanted. 

He’d dreamed about this—too many nights, too many times imagining what you'd sound like, taste like, how you’d fall apart under his mouth. But none of it compares to this—flushed, needy, eyes fluttering, mouth open with every breathy moan. And the way you say his name? 

Yeah, he’s gone. 

He’s so mad at himself—mad that he waited this long, mad that he let you be so close for so long without touching you like this. But right now? He’s making up for it. 

He presses your thighs open wider, groaning at the way you react. His tongue starts to move faster now, rougher, more deliberate. Circling, sucking, teasing. You whimper his name—desperate, breathless—and he loves it. Every moan you try to bite back just makes him go harder. 

“Mingyu—fuck—” you breathe, legs trembling under his grip. 

And he just hums into you in response, lips curved, like he’s proud of the way you fall apart for him all over again. 

He slips a finger inside you, and your back arches, a loud gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. You glance down—his mouth still on you, tongue still moving—and you can see it. 

That smug little smile. 

You actually want to slap him for it. But God, it feels so good. Too good. 

You shove your finger between your lips, biting down hard, because otherwise you'd be moaning his name. 

Trying to not wake anyone. But he makes it impossible. His finger curls just right, finding that spot that makes your whole body clench, and then— 

A second finger. Thicker. Deeper. You cry out into your arm, hand flying to his hair, gripping hard—more for your sanity than his guidance. 

This isn’t what you had in mind when you got drunk last night—but fuck, you’re not complaining. 

“Mingyu—I’m going to—” 

You can barely get the words out, voice all shaky. He pulls back just a little, breath heavy against your thigh, fingers still pumping into you slow and deep, while looking at you in your eyes. 

“Not yet,” he says, voice low, but wrecked. “Just a little longer, please?” 

You want to curse at him, cry, beg—but all that comes out is a desperate whine. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. 

You need it. 

But he knows that. He wants you right there. He wants to watch you fall apart again—and know it’s him doing it to you. 

His fingers speed up, more precise now, like he knows exactly how much you can take. His tongue’s back on you—licking, moaning with you, vibrating against you. 

And when he lifts your legs up, resting them on his broad shoulders—you can’t take it anymore. 

Your whole body clenches. The heat crashes over you so fast it steals your breath. Your hands still tangled in his hair as he stays with you till wave ends. 

He doesn’t let go. He holds you through it, still licking you soft and slow, humming gently like he’s calming you down from a high only he could give. 

He smiles to himself, then leans in to kiss you again—slow, deep. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him back. your body’s still buzzing, but God, you're tired. 

Eventually, he lets himself drop back onto the bed beside you, one arm flung lazily over his eyes. You're both breathing hard, skin warm and flushed. 

“You tired?” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse. 

You hum, eyes still closed. “Yes… but no.” 

He lets out a quiet laugh, shifting just enough to peek at you from under his arm. “What kinda answer is that?” 

You giggle softly, brain still foggy. “You?” 

“Kinda, yeah.” He drags a hand through his messy hair. “You seriously drive me insane. I was tense the whole damn day… like some fucking college kid with a crush.” 

You smile to yourself. “Oh yeah? You deserved it. You made me wait long enough.” 

He lifts his head, resting on his elbows now, eyebrows raised. “I made you wait?Are you kidding? I was trailing after you like a damn dog for months. Everyone saw it. Everyone. Except for— you. They made fun of me. Hoshi even gave me names. He called me a puppy!” 

“You didn’t do anything either!” you shoot back. “And it’s not my fault—you’re nice to everyone!” 

“Yeah, but…” he pauses, and you can feel something shift in the air between you. You look at him, waiting for ending the sentence. 

“I’m only in love with you.” 

The words are soft. Steady. No hesitation, no teasing this time. And it hits you. Your heart stutters—you look at him, searching his face, trying to read the truth in his eyes.  He meant it. Every word.  

Your lips part, but no answer comes. Not yet. Instead, your gaze drops—his chest still rising fast, the muscles of his stomach tense, his jeans still unbuttoned, the bulge beneath his boxers so obvious now.  

A slow smile curls on your lips.  

“You waited that long?”, drawing the word out, fingers drifting low on his stomach. 

He groans, tossing his arm back over his face. “Don’t mock me.” 

You lean in. “What did they call you again?” Your hand cups him through his boxers—he’s already hard. 

He lets out a long breath through his nose, biting back a curse. 

“Stop playing…” he mutters, but it’s weak—he doesn’t really mean it. 

Your voice dips lower. “Did Hoshi call you a puppy?” 

“Mhm—  a puppy in love, he said.” 

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as your hand dips beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. He’s hot, thick, and already leaking. He groans—sharp and low. 

“Fuck—don’t tease—” 

You pull down his jeans and boxers in one slow motion, freeing his cock. He twitches in your hand. 

“So much pre-cum…” you say. “Were you really about to cum in your pants, Gyu?” 

He laughs at himself, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, yes—almost.” 

You bite your lip, your hand moving slow at first, teasing.  His breath catches. “Shit—I’m sensitive.” 

You watch the way his expression shifts—brows knit together, lips parting, chest rising quicker with every breath. 

  “Don’t—ahh—your hands…” he groans, voice breaking around the words. 

You go a little faster. His hips twitch. A breathless moan slips from his lips and he grabs at the sheets. 

“What if I..” You lean in, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock. You give a soft lick, just once—just to see. 

“Shit— cant you just—” he gasps, jaw clenched tight.  

You look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so loud,” you whisper. “What if they hear you like this?” 

He lets out a desperate sound, biting down on his fist, like that’ll help. 

You smirk, finally taking him into your mouth—slow, deep, with deliberate pressure. His whole body jerks. 

He’s trying to hold back. He doesn’t even dare to look at you. Because if he does—if he watches your lips wrapped around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, your head moving slow and steady—he’ll lose it. Completely. 

You suck him deeper, your lips wrapped tight, tongue tracing every inch. He’s so responsive, so sensitive, every little flick making him twitch in your mouth. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and the soft, ragged sounds coming from his throat only make you want more. 

“Shit—” he gasps, a hand reaching down, not to push you away—but to ground himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, not guiding, just holding. 

You glance up. His head’s tossed back, lips parted. 

He tries to hold still. Tries not to fuck up into your mouth. But the way you’re working him—slow, then fast, then slow again—it’s driving him insane. 

And then suddenly— 

“Wait—fuck, baby—stop.” 

You try to understand why he pulled away—lips still parted, his length heavy in your hand—and then you hear it. Footsteps. The faint creak of the bathroom door down the hall. Someone’s awake. 

instead of stopping, you stroke him—slow, deliberate—watching his eyes flutter, jaw clench tight. 

“Shit, baby…” he whispers, voice tight, “I can’t hold it in. I’m gonna—” 

  You lean up, cutting him off with a kiss. A soft hush. You don’t want him too loud either. But he’s still so hard, throbbing in your hand, and the way he kisses you back—messy and desperate—tells you how badly he’s struggling. 

He sits up slowly, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into his lap like he can’t help it. You settle over him, straddling, still bare, your pussy brushing his cock. The friction makes you both gasp—his tip slides right against your folds, wet and hot and so wrong. So good. 

“Fuck—” he groans into your mouth. “Baby, your pussy… it's—shit—it’s right there.”  

“I know,” you whisper, lips brushing his. You roll your hips, letting his cock glide through your slick folds, not quite inside, but enough to make him lose his breath. “But we’re not having sex, right?” 

His hands squeeze your hips tighter, trying to steady you, but you keep grinding—slow, delicious pressure. His cock slides over your clit just right, making you both shiver. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes. 

“But you like it,” you whisper against his jaw, biting it gently. 

“Fuck baby, I love it. You feel—mhm—fuck.” He’s unraveling beneath you, hips jerking up once, just barely. 

You smirk and keep going. Little circles. Little rocks of your hips. You moan quietly, lips brushing his ear. “What if I came like this? Just from grinding on your cock?” 

“Dont fucking talk like that. Shit—” 

And then he says it—low, strained, breathless: 

“Just the tip?” He meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper. “It wouldn’t count… right?” 

The smirk on your lips falters when you feel him shift beneath you. He looks at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. His tone drops lower—deeper, more confident now. “Say yes.” 

You nod. That’s all he needs. 

He pulls you down—slowly—just enough to push the head of his cock inside. You gasp at the stretch, at how thick he feels, even like this. He holds you there, both of you trembling, his forehead resting against yours.  

You whimper, but before you can speak, he moves. He rocks his hips up—just once, shallow, purposeful. Enough to make you cry out and cling to him. 

He chuckles, quiet and low. “Told you. Just the tip, and already look at you…” 

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he loves it. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, guiding your hips slowly, letting you feel all of him without giving you everything. “Look at you. So desperate to be full, huh?” 

You nod again, helpless. “Please…” 

He tilts your chin up, kissing you softly—then deeper, filthier. “You want more?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

He hums, leaning back to look at you. “Then ask me.” 

You swallow hard, but your mouth stays shut, lips parted, breath shallow. You know what he wants to hear— but something  in you won’t give it to him that easily. Not yet. 

“Hm?” he says softly, eyes narrowing with the hint of a smirk. “No?” 

His hands slide down your sides, slow and sure. He shifts his hips under you—just the head of his cock still buried inside, pulsing—and rolls them up ever so slightly. Just enough to make your breath hitch. 

“You gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers trailing over your clit in featherlight circles. You jerk forward instinctively, gasping. 

“Fuck—Mingyu—” 

“Still not asking,” he mutters, almost amused, his voice thick with restraint. 

He keeps circling, teasing—soft, slow, maddening. At the same time, he rocks his hips again, just a little, dragging himself barely an inch deeper inside you. Your body clenches down, desperate for more. 

You whimper, hands braced on his chest, trying not to completely melt. He’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every shaky breath. 

His free hand grips your ass, guiding you into a slow, lazy grind against him. The friction makes your head spin—you can feel the tip of his cock pressing right there, and his fingers still working you, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore. 

You try to hold on—but your body betrays you, chasing the rhythm, chasing more. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your pride holds them back just a moment longer. 

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll keep going like this all night,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like this. Teasing you. Keeping you full, but never enough. Is that what you want?” 

“N-No,” you breathe, almost a sob. Your legs are shaking now, your whole body aching. 

“Say it,” he whispers. You break. You can’t take it anymore. 

“Please—Mingyu—fuck me.” 

And the second those words leave your mouth, his expression shifts—something deeper, darker flashes in his eyes. 

He grabs your waist with both hands and sinks you down onto him in one slow, devastating thrust, filling you inch by inch until you’re gasping his name, your body going taut. 

“There you go,” he breathes, his voice strained, jaw clenched. “Fuck—you take me so well.” 

You’re panting, hips rolling instinctively, but he slows you down with a firm grip. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you like this. Just… stay here a second.” 

You can feel him pulsing inside you, his hands roaming your back, your hips, your thighs like he’s trying to memorize every part of you. He presses kisses to your neck, slow and hot. 

Then he starts to move—hips snapping up, controlled, deep. Not rough, but precise. He watches your face the whole time, eyes flicking down to your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside you. 

“You feel me right there?” he growls against your ear. “Right where you needed it?” 

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, your voice broken. 

“Tell me,” he urges, his tone softer now, coaxing. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” 

“So good—fuck, so deep—Mingyu—” 

He kisses you again, grinning into it, just a little cocky now that you’re coming apart in his hands. His pace quickens, your moans slipping free with every thrust, louder, needier. 

And then he stills, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Ride me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Let me watch you.” 

You bite your lip, breath shaky, but you shift your weight and begin to move—slow at first, dragging your hips in circles, rolling against him. He groans, loud, his head tipping back, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you from beneath messy strands of hair. 

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Just like that—fuck—look at you.” 

You start to bounce, the rhythm building as his hands slide down to your hips, helping, guiding, squeezing. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, filthy and wet and perfect. You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop grinding down onto him—because he’s so deep, and you’re so full, and it’s too much. 

You’re close. You can feel it coiling deep in your stomach. 

“I—Gyu—I’m—” You don’t even finish. Your body seizes up, every muscle tightening as you cry out his name and fall apart around him, shaking, pulsing, gasping. 

“Let go, baby,” he whispers, his voice wrecked. “Cum for me. Right here, right on my cock.” 

He’s right there with you—watching you fall apart around him has him unraveling, too. His fingers tighten at your waist, jaw clenched, a desperate groan tearing from his throat. 

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, I can’t hold it—” 

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, still trembling, your voice barely more than a whimper. You’re still fluttering around him, soaked and warm, and the plea in your voice pushes him right over the edge. 

With a broken moan of your name, he buries himself deep, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, pulsing hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, his face tucked into your neck, breath shaky and warm against your skin. 

For a while, neither of you moves. There’s just the sound of your heartbeats, the rise and fall of your chests pressed together. 

Then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your jaw. Then your lips—soft, lingering. You both smile into it, drunk on the closeness. 

As the haze starts to fade, you shift your hips, starting to lift off him gently. 

But his arms tighten, holding you in place. 

“No,” he murmurs, half-pleading. “I wanna stay inside you a little longer.”  

You sink back down with a quiet laugh, and he whimpers. 

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m still sensitive…”  

You smile, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead and kiss the mole on the tip of his nose. He blinks up at you, wide-eyed and flushed—and then he just starts to laugh. His hair is a wreck, his lips still kiss-bruised, and his collarbone is marked where you bit him earlier. But it’s his eyes that undo you—bright and crinkled at the corners. 

You laugh too, even if you’re not sure why. “What?” you ask, grinning.  

He shakes his head, still smiling like he can’t believe you’re real.

“I’m a fucking puppy in love.”  

a/n: it’s done!! finally. i’m so sorry for making you guys wait this long, but i’m actually really happy with how it turned out. i hope you like it just as much as i do ⭑.ᐟ thank you so much for waiting patiently—your comments were seriously the sweetest and so, so kind. ⋆.˚

fun fact about the whole “jealousy” story: this actually started out as a completely different story. i was inspired by that one gif of mingyu at the gym, and had this whole plot in mind… but then i realized it needed some context to make sense, and somewhere along the way, it just turned into this. so yeah, that’s why san’s little cameo feels kinda random 😭 BUT i’m thinking of turning that original idea into a bonus part for this one instead...would you want to read it?? let me know in the comments, in my dms, wherever—i’d love to hear from you!!

love youuuu xoxo ౨ৎ

My cute little 🏷️ taglist:

@wseye @wooahaeivy @dinow13 @httpscoco444 @jihoonsbbygirl @tigersandcherries @souleater440 @gyuldaengie97 @potayaa @mmingooo @ninigyuuu @littlewolfieposts @amingo046 @saturnesposts @starsewl @saltyfriendsaladbandit @imhwajaez @perfectlycleverface @chykyu @gohyemi @baekhyunimochibbh @gh0stprinceess @holyfestfire @id7lso @zimzalaminho @hellosighsophy-blog @my-woozi @sumeyyetuna

Honorable tag: @maplegyu

thank you for enjoying my fic and supporting me! It means a lot!

[ver8ho]

THE TENSION???? THE TEASING????? PLEASE

[seungkw1]

the midnight motel — wjh

🚪 pairing: wen junhui x f!reader 🚪 theme: horror, smut [18+ mdni] 🚪 wc: 4.7k 🚪 warnings: psychological horror and scary elements, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, oral, 69, cum swallowing, jun is a munch (obviously) 🚪 a/n: finally, my first jun fic!! (many more to come in the future though!) ngl this one got Real Weird™️, but i’m not sorry about it :) hope it scares your pants off~

𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝙲𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 — [𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝] ; [𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝]

SYNOPSIS: It’s late at night, you’re lost in the middle of nowhere, and the gas tank is dangerously close to empty. So when you and your new boyfriend finally stumble upon a motel, you’re relieved to know you’ll at least be safe here overnight – or will you?

October 20, 2000 Somewhere in the wilderness of Washington State

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Yyyyeah," Jun answers you hesitantly. "I mean, we have to be right?" His eyes shift nervously over to you in the passenger seat.

"I thought so, but we were definitely supposed to be there already…"

You flip through the stapled stack of papers in your hand, scouring the printed out MapQuest directions for anything you missed, but you swear you followed them to a T. Yet, here you are, still driving down this endless pitch-black country road, illuminated only by Jun's 1987 Honda Civic's feeble high beams, not a sign of civilization in sight for miles now.

"I think… we should turn around," Jun announces defeatedly after glancing at the dashboard. "Car's running out of juice."

"Already?? Ughhh," you groan, dropping directions to the floor as you rub your tired eyes.

"I'm really sorry," Jun apologizes, looking sheepish. This was supposed to be a fun little weekend escape, the first in your new relationship together — but it's gone all wrong already, and he feels awful.

"You don't need to be sorry, it's not your fault," you console him. "Stupid MapQuest led us astray."

"I can't believe there's wrong information on the internet," Jun laments. He slows down, checking his mirrors before he swings the car around in a u-turn. "We passed a gas station at some point — I think we should have enough fuel to get us back there."

"Fingers crossed," you reply quietly.

Jun drives back the way he came, but fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes pass without a gas station in sight. All you see are trees, tall and looming, their dark outlines zipping by as you drive past.

"Where the damn hell is this gas station??" Jun wonders out loud. At this point, you both are tired, anxious, and just want somewhere you can stop for the night. You peek over at the fuel gauge — the tank is dangerously close to empty. Your lip quivers as you try to hold back the tears welling in your eyes, but you're too exhausted and scared. You start to sob quietly, looking out the window to hide your face, but Jun notices.

"Hey, y/n, it's gonna be okay," he tells you softly, reaching over to place his hand on your arm reassuringly. "I promise."

You give him a small nod, sniffling as you dry your tears with your sleeve. As you look back out the window, you spot a faint light in the distance.

"Look!" you say, perking up as you point at it through the windshield. "What's that?"

Jun speeds up a little, bringing into view the outline of a short, long building. It has a sign, unlit, but as you approach the car's high beams illuminate its single word: MOTEL

"Oh thank god," you slump into your seat in relief.

"It doesn't look very… open," Jun mutters, not letting himself get excited just yet. He presses the brake, slowing the car as he turns it into the gravel parking lot. It's empty, except for a rusty old truck parked in the grass that looks like it hasn't been operational in years. He pulls up to the building with the singular lit lantern — the motel office, presumably. It looks dark inside, and the blinds in the door window are shut, but the crooked, hand-written sign in the glass is flipped to OPEN. You stare at each other, both of you wary of this whole situation.

"Maybe… they'll at least have some gas?" you say to Jun, doubtful, but what choice do you have?

"Well, can't hurt to ask," Jun shrugs. He turns the key and the car engine goes silent. You unbuckle, reaching for the door handle, but he grabs you by the arm to stop you.

"Wait, don't get out yet." He pops open his door and jumps out of the car, briskly walking around to the passenger side and opening your door for you. He wraps his arm around you as you get out, holding you close to him.

"Whatever you do, don't leave my side," he mumbles quietly in your ear. "This place gives me the creeps."

He reaches for the round door knob, turning it slowly — to both your surprise, it turns. He swings the door inward, peering into the dim interior. Behind the counter sits a short, balding man, his round glasses glowing from the reflection of the screen of the small tv on the desk that appears to be the room's only light source. It seems to be playing a football game of some kind, but its volume is off, leaving the room eerily silent. The man looks up, peering at you with tired eyes. He doesn't say anything — just stares.

"Excuse me, sir" Jun asks, throwing a friendly smile on as he addresses the man. "We seem to have taken a wrong turn and we're running a bit low on fuel. Is there any chance you have any gas around here? I'd be happy to pay you for it."

"In the morning."

The man's voice is gruff. Based on the grimy ashtray full of cigarette butts sitting on his desk and the stale odor in the air, you assume he's a chain smoker.

Jun looks at him, waiting for him to elaborate. The man rolls his eyes.

"I don't have any now. But I'll have some in the morning."

"O…kay…" Jun replies, still confused. "You mean like, someone's gonna bring some by, or-"

"Yeah. In the morning."

Jun would love to know what the fuck he means by that, but he also desperately wants to exit this conversation.

"Okay, well, um, do you have any rooms available then?"

"Yes."

He stares at the man, waiting for him to do literally anything, but he doesn't even move. Looking closer, he doesn't even appear to be blinking. A shiver rushes over your skin; you're not cold, but you huddle closer into Jun anyway.

"Can we have one?"

The man stares back, unmoving. You start to wonder if he fucking died when he suddenly produces a single silver key from his breast pocket. He tosses it onto the desk.

"Room 4."

Jun reaches for the key, backing away from the desk as soon as it's in his palm.

"Thanks. Do I pay you now or-?"

"In the morning."

Jun gives the man a nod, quickly whisking you away as he bounds back out the door.

"Are you sure we should spend the night here?" you whisper to him as he leads you back toward the car.

"No, not really," he admits in a hushed voice. "But it's this or sleeping in the car, and that seems like an even worse idea."

He turns the key in the trunk lock. It pops open and he quickly grabs your bags, slamming it shut and relocking it. You both turn to head to your room, but are startled by the sight of an old lady in a wheelchair sitting right behind you.

"Jesus Christ!" Jun hisses under his breath, nearly jumping out of his skin. The old lady stares past you two, her eyes clouded with cataracts. Her hair is long and scraggly, dark-grey strands hanging in a tangle over the dingy brown flannel she has on over a full-length yellowed dress.

"Never open the door after midnight," she tells you in a hoarse voice. "Not for anyone, not for anything."

Her thin, wrinkled lips purse together as she starts wheeling herself away, slowly turning and continuing on past your car.

"Safety rises with the sun," she adds, eyes fixed straight ahead at nothing. You watch her roll away languidly until Jun grabs your hand.

"We better get inside," he murmurs nervously. You make a beeline for the room marked with a rusty metal 4, noticing the number sign is barely hanging on to the wall with one very loose nail. Jun sticks the key in the door, unlocking it with a click. He pushes the door open slowly, reaching inside and fumbling for a light switch. He finds it, flipping it on — a singular, exposed light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers to life weakly, revealing a surprisingly normal looking motel room. The space is small, most of it occupied by the single queen size bed that much to your relief has fresh-looking sheets on it. Two simple nightstands stand next to each side of the bed, and on a small table across the room sits a boxy TV with slightly bent antennas. You glance back over your shoulder as you enter, looking past Jun's shoulder, but the strange old lady has seemingly vanished.

Once inside Jun immediately turns the deadbolt and locks the chain. Two thin red curtains hang over the shut blinds; he tugs them closed, making sure there are no gaps in the window. You plop your bag down, taking your shoes off before throwing yourself at the bed and immediately diving under the covers.

"I'm sure we'll sleep great tonight," you remark with an anxious laugh. Jun kicks his sneakers off, flipping the light off as he heads to bed as well. The room turns dark, but not pitch-black — the lantern outside the motel office creates a faint glow around the edges of the curtains. As your eyes adjust you see Jun climbing into bed beside you. Your heart flutters — this is the first time you're sharing a bed with him, which would probably be making you nervous if not for all the weird shit that's happened tonight that has you nervous already.

"We'll leave first thing in the morning, provided our pal back there actually can give us the gas he so graciously offered us."

The sarcasm in his voice makes you smile slightly. You feel safe beside Jun— even if you are stuck in this creepy motel for the night. But soon the strange old lady's words start to replay in your head, making you feel uneasy again.

"What do you think she meant?" you ponder out loud. "Never open the door after midnight… what was that about?"

"I think it means she's off her rocker," Jun answers matter-of-factly, making you smile a little. "Don't worry about her. Try and get some rest."

"I'll try," you say halfheartedly.

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight."

You lay there, trying to relax, but unsurprisingly you're still decently on edge. Jun seems to be as well — he wiggles around a bit before rolling over and gently resting his arm around your waist.

"Is this okay?" he asks softly.

"Yes," you answer, snuggling into him eagerly. "This is very okay."

"Good," he smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You lay cuddled together comfily, but neither of you can seem to fall asleep.

Eventually Jun's hand drifts underneath your shirt, tucking it underneath the fabric and resting his palm on your belly, rubbing your soft skin gently with his thumb. It's comforting, but also the intimacy is starting to turn you on. Jun — who is already turned on by your mere presence next to him — doesn't want to pressure you into anything, but he really likes you, and he certainly wouldn't mind getting to second base at least.

You cuddle in closer to him, you as his little spoon, not-so-subtly pressing your ass against his crotch. Jun's heart begins to beat quickly — he tries not to get a boner, but it's too late. The blood is already rushing down there, and his cock begins to stiffen against your butt. You smile, pleased with yourself that he's already this turned on at the slightest provocation.

Jun's hand starts to wander, sliding up your belly, hesitating as he feels the swell of your breast against his fingertips — but you give him a nudge, pushing his hand up and over your boob. He excitedly squeezes at it, thumb brushing lightly against your pebbling nipple. You let out a very soft whimper, but it's enough to make his cock throb against your ass. He begins feverishly grasping at your boobs, pinching your nipples lightly as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck, planting a couple kisses on the delicate skin.

"Tell me to stop if you don't want me to-" he whispers, but you shut him up by grinding against his dick.

"Don't stop," you tell him breathily.

His hand excitedly meanders to the waistband of your sweats as he continues to kiss you, slipping underneath the pants as his fingers graze over your core through your underwear.

"Fuck," he moans as he discovers the damp patch in your panties. "I can feel how wet you are already."

"What can I say, I like you."

At that he slips his fingertips underneath the fabric, groaning at the stickiness awaiting him. He strokes your clit softly, the slow rhythmic movements of his hand stirring a sharp sensation in your gut. You let out a soft hum, your ass pressing into him as your back starts to arch. He swirls his fingertips around the bud, alternating between circling your clit and plunging his fingers into your heat. Soft moans escape your lips as he fingers you, reflexively making you grind your ass harder still against his boner.

"Oh god, keep doing that," he groans. "Actually, don't," he says, pulling his hips back. "I'm gonna bust already."

This only makes you press into him more, rubbing his clothed cock between your cheeks.

"Oh fuckkkkkk," he moans, rutting against you as he starts losing his composure. His fingers continue their delicate brushstrokes against your clit, making it swell and throb as he touches you perfectly to your undoing. Your legs shake as you climax, soft moans filling the room as he works your clit through your orgasm. As your body slows you reach behind you and grab his dick through his pants, giving it long slow strokes.

"Holy shit," he mumbles, flopping onto his back as he rocks his hips back and forth against your palm. Despite your blissful daze you roll over, scooting down so your face hovers above his crotch. You undo the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling his cock out. Dribbles of precum spill from its tip; you lap them up with your tongue, prompting Jun to let out a long moan. You drag your lips around his length as you take the cock in your mouth, sucking at it slowly.

"Oh my god," he groans. "Will you…" His words trail off; you pop his dick out of your mouth and look at him.

"Will I what?" you smile at him sweetly.

"Will you please sit on my face? I need to taste you now," he pleads, reaching for your ass. You pull your bottoms off and swing your leg over his torso, sinking your pussy onto his lips as you put the head of his cock in your mouth and suck on it.

"Holy fucking shit," he groans, his voice muffled as he presses his whole face into your cunt, lapping up the sticky mess produced by your orgasm. "This is heaven."

His tongue flicks against your clit feverously as you bob your head up and down, taking his length down your throat. Jun starts babbling incoherently, unintelligible as he goes to town on your pussy. His hips start thrusting, fucking his cock into your mouth as you play with his balls.

"Baby, 'm gonna cum…"

You can barely decipher his words, but right as he says them a release of hot cum shoots into the back of your throat. His cock pulses as he jerks his hips, tongue still furiously working your clit, driving you to cum again. You gag as your body trembles atop your boyfriend, coating his face in your juices as he gives you a few final spurts of his release. You carefully pull your lips off his length, collecting all of his cum and swallowing it. Sleepily grabbing your sweats, you shimmy back into them before the chill of the room gets to you, then collapse onto the bed beside him. He tugs at your arm, pulling you back into his embrace as he takes you as his little spoon again.

"Wow," he mumbles, his voice gravelly in your ear. "That was incredible."

Hot breaths escape your lips as you try to catch your breath. "Yeah it was." Jun giggles, squeezing you lightly.

"Let's try get some sleep now," he mutters . You nod, already drifting off to sleep in his arms.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You bolt upright, the springs of the cheap mattress creaking beneath you. You scan the room, disoriented, but then you remember where you are. Jun's eyes open reluctantly. As he clumsily props himself up on his elbows, the sound returns again.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Hey kids, I got your gasoline," the gruff voice of the motel manager calls through the door. You and Jun stare at each other — it's still the middle of the night, you haven't been asleep long. Reaching for your wristwatch on the nightstand beside you, you tap its side button, the digital display lighting up neon blue and showing you the time: it's 2:00am on the dot. Jun slowly starts to get up, but the creepy old lady's words drift through your mind again: Never open the door after midnight.

"Wait!" you whisper, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back onto the bed. "Remember what the old lady said?"

"It's just the manager though," he replies calmly. "We can get the gas and get out of here."

"Why did he tell us like five times that we had to wait until morning if he was just gonna knock on our door at 2am then?" you point out, showing him your glowing watch face. You see the gears in Jun's head turning, finally clicking as a worried look washes over his face.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"C'mon kids, you wanna get out of here or what?" the man outside the door calls to you, but the inflection in his voice sounds like he's taunting you now.

"Tell him to just leave it outside," you whisper to Jun. He nods slowly in agreement.

"You can leave it outside the door," he calls out in a raised voice. "We'll get it, thanks."

"Don't keep me waiting," the man growls at you. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. "C'mon, open the door." KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Should we look out the window?" Jun whispers, looking at you. "See if he actually has the gas?"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"I'm waaaaaaitinggggg," the man bellows, a sinister timbre overtaking his voice.

You shake your head. "If he does have the gas he can just leave it. There's no reason we need to open the door."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"You want this shit or not, motherfuckers?!" the man screeches, his voice grating and sharp as nails.

"Should we call the police?" you ask as you shrink into Jun, clinging to him anxiously. He reaches for the landline beside him, but as he picks up the handset a loud continuous low tone echoes from the receiver. No signal. He quietly hangs the phone up and wraps his arms around you.

"He has to get bored eventually," he mutters into your ear. "He's not gonna stand out there all night."

Silence fills the room, the only sound other than your own pounding heartbeat being the grotesque, wheezing breaths of the man outside the door.

"Alright, suit yourself," he finally grumbles angrily. You hear his shuffling footsteps as he stumbles away, the sound tapering off at an agonizingly slow pace before fully disappearing, plunging you back into deafening silence.

You take a sharp inhale, realizing that you've been holding your breath. You sink into Jun, holding onto him tight as you shiver, trying not to cry again.

"He's gone, we're okay," Jun assures you as he kisses you on the forehead. "C'mon, let's try and get some rest. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

He hugs you tight as you lay back down, the warmth of his body relaxing you some. You intertwine your fingers with his, holding his hand as you try to fall back asleep — it feels hopeless at first, but by some miracle, you are soon slipping off into unconsciousness again.

tap tap tap

Still half asleep, the sound filters into your dream. You aren't exactly having a nightmare, but strange shadowy imagery floods your mind's eye, and the vibes are certainly off.

tap tap tap

Hearing it again, you realize the sound is coming from an external source. You squint one eye open, staring at the dark ceiling of the motel room you are displeased to find yourself still in. Your hand is still holding Jun's as he snores gently beside you.

tap tap tap

"Jun…" you mumble, shaking him lightly. He mutters something unintelligible, flopping his head over in his sleep. "Jun," you try again. His eyes pop open.

"What is it?" he asks sleepily, but the sound returns again.

tap tap tap

He sits up, looking toward the locked door where the rapping appears to be coming from.

"Excuse me," a small voice trickles through the door. It sounds like a child.

"I can't find my mommy," the child calls out timidly. "Can you help me find her?"

You look over to Jun, his wide eyes telling you he is as unnerved as you are.

tap tap tap "Excuse meee."

Reaching for your watch again, you check the time: 4:00am, on the dot.

"Do you think that's actually a child?" you whisper. Jun slowly shakes his head, and you can tell he's thinking the same thing you are: it's the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere — where on earth would an unattended child even come from?

"Don't open it," he mouths. You nod; you weren't planning on opening the door earlier, and you certainly aren't planning on opening it now.

tap tap tap "Can you help me please?" tap tap tap "Please?"BANG BANG BANG "WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME."

The child's voice is garbled as it bellows, the growls of some horrible, angered beast breaking through the timid words.

BANG BANG BANG

The door quakes with each booming impact. You cover your ears, trying to drown out the awful sound. Jun holds onto you as he stares at the door with fright, hoping and praying whatever's out there can't break it down.

BANG BANG BANG

tap tap tap

You hesitantly lift your hands from your ears, but the banging has ceased, replaced with the light tapping again.

tap tap tap

"Can you help me find my mommy?"

The voice has returned to that of a child, but it is no less frightening. You wait, trying to reason that if the manager (or whoever it was before) had left, then whoever it is now will also leave eventually. A few minutes of silence pass, before the small voice pipes up again.

"Sorry to bother you. I guess I'll go now."

Light footsteps echo as the child appears to depart. You are once again left in silence.

Neither you or Jun are able to fall back asleep. You both lay there in the eerie silence, tossing and turning, but the effort is futile.

You keep checking your watch, growing anxious as time passes. Your unwelcomed visitors had appeared exactly two hours apart, and it's now 5:53am. If the pattern continues, you're due for another in seven minutes.

You roll over toward Jun, finding him on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You know he sometimes sleeps with his eyes open, so you're unsure if he's awake or not, but his head turns to you.

"Hey," he whispers, beaming softly at you through heavy eyelids.

"Hi," you smile back. As freaky as this whole night has been, you've never felt truly in danger with him by your side.

He reaches over and grabs you, rolling you over on top of him. Your noses press together as he holds you tight against him, rubbing your back softly as you lay there. You give him a kiss, soft and slow. As your lips part he grins at you lazily.

"You're so pretty," he tells you lovingly. You know you absolutely look like death right now after this restless night, but Jun doesn't care. You look as beautiful to him now as you did the very first day he met you.

"It's almost morning," you tell him. "Do you think that creep-o manager will actually come through with the gas?"

"I sure hope so."

"As soon as the sun comes up, let's leave," you say to him. Safety rises with the sun, the old lady had said. And you sure fucking hope she is right.

knock knock knock-knock

"Honey? You in there? It's me."

Your blood turns to ice at the words carrying through the door. Jun's eyes widen in horror, him too recognizing the familiar voice.

"Honey? Come outside, your father and I are here to take you home."

The unmistakable voice of your mother rings warmly in your ears. A sense of relief washes over you, an instinctual reaction to her comforting nature — but still your stomach twists, because you know without a doubt that is not your mother outside the door.

knock knock knock-knock "Come on out, love," your mom's voice says, sweetly as ever, but it's all wrong. You cling to your boyfriend, tucking your head into the pillow as you try to drown out the sound, but the voice continues.

"Come on, let's get going," it calls, growing irritated as the knocking returns. "Don't you trust your mother?"

"Shhh, baby," Jun comforts you as you quietly start to cry, petting your hair and kissing you on the cheek. "The sun's almost up, it'll all be over soon."

knock knock knock-knock "You're not even going to answer the door for your own mother? How could you??" the voice mocks, its tone shifting to a deeper, unfamiliar register.

"Don't listen to it," Jun whispers.

knock knock knock-knock "Come on, honey," the voice snaps at you. "Open the door NOW."

Your face is buried in the pillow, but Jun taps you on the back. You lift your head, opening your eyes to see him pointing at the window. The curtains are still closed, but in the very corner you can see a sliver between the blinds, the faintest light of dawn peeking through. At long last, it is morning.

Suddenly, a horrid, bloodshot eye appears behind the glass.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!!!!!!!" a furious growl screeches. But as the sun rises past the horizon, its rays beam into the window, and when you look again, the eye is gone.

"I think it left," you say, bouncing out of bed and reaching for your shoes. Jun follows suit, collecting your packed bags; as he approaches the door, he carefully pulls the blinds back, peering outside.

"There's nothing out there," he says, sighing with relief as he turns to you. "It's gone."

Still nervous as he unlocks the door, he opens it slowly, but just as he said, the coast is clear. He takes your hand as you both sprint to the car, cheering when you spot a canister of gas sitting on the ground by the back tire. He picks it up, grinning widely as the full container of liquid sloshes around inside. He unlocks the car and pops the gas tank, filling the car as fast as he can. While he does that, you look at the office, wondering if the creepy manager is inside — but you notice the sign in the window is flipped to CLOSED. You walk over to the door, turning the handle, but it's locked, and as you pull your hand away you notice a thick layer of dirt on your hand from touching the knob. You look around at the motel in the daylight, getting a good look at it for the first time. Everything is as it appeared last night — except, the entire place looks horrifically run down, dilapidated and crumbling, with overgrown weeds and ambling vines snaking up the exterior walls. No sign of the manager, or the strange old lady in the wheelchair, or a lost child or your mother. It's as if this place was long since abandoned — sitting untouched for years.

"Done!" Jun shouts, tossing the emptied canister aside as he shuts the fuel door, the tank now filled. He runs over to you, giving you an elated celebratory kiss before grabbing your hand and tugging you back toward the car.

"C'mon, let's get the hell out of here."

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[svtswhorehouse]

XOXO, YOON JEONGHAN

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: mdni, smut, gossip girl au warnings: mean dom! jeonghan, rich girl! reader, blackmail, seungcheol is reader’s ex, finger sucking, a very short shoe riding scene, hair pulling, face slapping, crying, degradation, humiliation kink, pussy slapping, fingering, begging, squirting, masturbation, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, rough sex, minor dumbification if you squint. word count: 9.3k synopsis: with your it girl reputation on the line in regards to the latest gossip girl blast, you have no other choice but to own your mistakes and fall at the feet of the very person behind your impending doom.

rip georgina sparks, this yoon jeonghan would’ve loved you.

“You.” 

“Me.” He smirked, leaning back against the sofa. He swirled the dark liquor around in his glass, taking a sip as he maintained eye contact above the rim. His gaze was cruel and devious. He had the upper hand and he knew it too.

Maybe this was another one of his mind games. It was sick and twisted — right up his alley. You had always considered Jeonghan a friend; or at least enough to know just how many strings he could pull and the lengths he would go to so he could get his way.

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to believe the truth. It was plain out in front of you, still difficult to comprehend. 

Raising an eyebrow, he found it hard not to laugh. “Yes.” 

Gossip girl was in fact, not a girl. Gossip girl was Yoon Jeonghan. The very man, one in which you grew up with, was the same person who had been tormenting you and your friends throughout the past couple of years. 

You had always known the blog had to have belonged to someone heavily involved in your life. He just so happened to be one of the last people you expected. 

You should have known better. You should have known never to underestimate Yoon Jeonghan.

“B-but,” You were at a loss for words, “Why?” 

Why was he Gossip Girl, why was he doing this to his friends, why had he targeted you, and most importantly — why was he threatening to release your nudes on the internet? 

It was perfectly orchestrated. Jeonghan had somehow managed through one of your old flings, (and a desperate attempt to rule out your flooded thoughts about your ex), to get his hands on some very compromising photos of you — pussy out and on display for all of Seoul to see.

The man sitting down before you chuckled. He owed you nothing, least of all an explanation as to the devious website he created to publicly humiliate anyone and everyone he’s ever crossed paths with. However, after tonight and what was to come, he figured a brief explanation wouldn’t be so bad. “Seungcheol.” He stated firmly, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?” Your breath hitched at the name. Seungcheol — the man who you gave your heart to all these years and unfortunately the man who you broke the heart of just two weeks ago. 

Jeonghan saw you fumble, the small flash of sadness and vulnerability on your face before covering it up. He almost felt bad — keyword, almost. Nevertheless, although he had grown to see you as an acquaintance over time, his loyalty had always belonged to Seungcheol. In some sort of unhinged and evil way, this was his payback when it came to breaking his best friend’s heart.

However, if you dig a little deeper; perhaps into the manipulative scheming mind of Yoon Jeonghan — unknown to you, this was also payback for all those nights he was forced to sit there and listen to Seungcheol drone on and on about your sex lives. How you still seemed so classy and composed even behind closed doors, it pissed him off; it made him so completely angry even though he knew it shouldn’t.

“Wow.” He would say to Seungcheol every single time with the word vanilla plastered across his mind, whilst really in the back of it; he was determined to make a complete and utter mess out of you one day. 

And that day had finally come.

Jeonghan chuckled, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t play dumb.” 

It was amazing, really. You always managed to dance around anything you might be at fault for, but this time, you had nowhere to run. No. Jeonghan had cornered you and now it was inevitable. 

“Please.” Your voice was hoarse, and although the last thing you wanted to do was beg him of all people, desperate times call for desperate measures. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” One of his eyebrows shot up in amusement. He still had that look on his face — the kind that you were so tempted to slap off. He didn’t believe you one bit, you were sure of it. 

Nodding in confirmation, you dug your nails into the palm of your hands to release silent frustration. “Anything.” You repeat, this time much firmer than the last.

Jeonghan kept his eyes settled on you longer than you would have liked. You stood strong under his gaze, making sure your breathing remained steady. Clearing his throat, he set his glass down with a clink. “Oh angel.” His voice dripped with condescension as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” 

A lump began to form in your throat, the reality of your situation kicking in. What were you getting yourself into? Maybe it would be better to just leave before it’s too late, but you had made your own bed and now you have to lay in it.

As soon as you caught sight of the new Gossip Girl blast — one that entailed your raunchy photos were now in someone else’s hands and waiting to be sent out into the world, you were quick to drop everything you were doing. Your fingers hit send before you could process your actions, let alone properly form a plan. You had already sent a tip to the website, asking — no. Pleading, for the person behind the screen to show you mercy before your entire reputation was ruined.

Atlas, here you are, standing face to face with a menace otherwise known as Yoon Jeonghan. 

The silence was unbearable. Both of you refused to break eye contact and you could see the corner of his mouth tilt up in a slight smirk at your determination. You were beginning to look pathetic and that was exactly how he wanted you to feel. The mission was already halfway accomplished. The embarrassment and blackballing you would face from the people around you stumped your pride tremendously. 

“Okay.” He stated, realizing you weren’t going to back down. Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, cocking his head at you. “Strip.” 

The word took you by surprise and you shot him a look of disbelief. He could not be serious. There was no way. 

“What are you, deaf?” He scoffed after you had taken too long.

“I-,” You stuttered, your brows furrowing at him. “No!” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat although making no moves to walk closer to where you were standing. “Don’t waste my time. You were the one that said you would do anything.” 

“W-well yes, but,” You were at a loss for words, “I didn’t think you would mean this.” 

He snickered at you, finding your statement hilarious. You should have never put anything past him, after all, he did come from one of the city’s most favored and wealthiest of families. With just the snap of his finger, he could get anything and everything he’s possibly ever wanted — even the chance to ruin you. 

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, whipping his phone out. The screen cast a dim light over his face as it was turned on, but his eyes remained set on you the entire time. He watched as your expression shifted and you connected the dots, realizing he was only seconds away from posting the photos on the website. 

With widened eyes, you held your hands up, slightly lunging forward but maintaining distance between the two of you. “Wait!” 

A smug look plastered across his features. He knew he had you trapped. He sat back down in his seat, giving you some time to think over the ultimate decision — one that would either break you or spare you.

The criticism and dirty looks you would be forced to face if those pictures got out would be unbearable. Living your lavish lifestyle would soon come to an end when your parents disown you after they are released. Not to mention, everyone you have ever known would refuse to be associated with the city’s newly proclaimed “whore.” There goes your friends, your family, and your future.

So what was it going to be? Bare your pussy for Yoon Jeonghan, or bare your pussy for the entire city.

It was a cruel world, but inevitably, the only one you’ve ever known.

As the next words left your mouth, you thought you were going to be sick. “I’ll do it.” You managed to say, fighting the tears that threatened to leave your eyes in humiliation and defeat. “Just…don’t post them.”

Jeonghan’s face twisted in amusement, almost as if he didn’t expect you to give in so easily. Tucking his phone away, he tilted his head at you. “Well,” He said, “Better make it quick, I don’t have all night.”

You fought the urge to tell him off. You were stupid, yes, – for sending those nudes in the first place, but you weren’t dumb enough to piss him off, especially when the ball was in his court. 

Refusing to look at him, your hands reached behind your back for the zipper of your dress. Your gaze was fixated on the ground as you tugged it down slowly, not wanting to fully embrace the current situation you had gotten yourself into.

If word got out about this, Seungcheol was going to be pissed. At Jeonghan, you wish you could say, but the hard truth was that most of his anger would be directed towards you. First, you broke up with him out of the blue, and now here you were about to let his best friend use you in a way that you never allowed him to even after many years spent together.

Maybe you really were a slut after all.

Jeonghan tutted in disapproval, capturing your attention. You snapped your head up, wondering what more he could possibly seek from you. “I want your eyes on me.”

You bit your tongue, wanting to scoff but deciding against it. He nodded, urging you to continue your actions. Clutching the straps of your dress, you slid them down your arms. The fabric, now loose on your body, fell to the floor almost immediately much to your dismay. You stepped out of the pool around your ankles, picking it up straight away and placing it on the hotel bed. God forbid, it was a one-of-a-kind designer piece and although what you were engaging in was dirty – that doesn’t mean the dress should be as well.

Jeonghan scoffed at your behavior. You’re the only person he knows that would find yourself in a position like this, yet still act the same; like you were better than everyone else. He was determined to go to extreme lengths to change that. 

As you stood there, not knowing what to do, the man shook his head at you. “Continue.” He said as if it was something you should have already known. “When I said strip, I meant all of it.” 

You wanted to cry; to scream; to rip your hair out in frustration, but you had no other choice than to oblige. Unhooking your bra, you inhaled shakily before you removed it from your body. Your hands instinctively shot up to cover yourself, but with a sharp look from Jeonghan, they went to rest on the sides of your lace underwear instead. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pulled them down, the last of your dignity washing away as you tossed them on the bed. 

Jeonghan let out a low whistle as soon as you were bare for him. Sure he had already seen most of you, at least through a screen that is, but it was all the more different seeing it in person. “Y/n, Y/n Y/n.” He taunted. “I’m almost sad you were hiding all this from me.” His tone was patronizing, eyes scoping your body out head to toe. It left you feeling even more unnerved and dirty than before.

You crossed your legs in pursuit to feel more secure, but before you could make a small hopeless attempt at covering up, Jeonghan beckoned you towards him. “C’mere.”

Each step felt heavier than the last as you approached, rooting yourself to the exact spot he pointed at. He stared up at you for a few seconds, enjoying the view before clearing his throat. “My shoe.” He stated, which caused you to quirk an eyebrow in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Get yourself off using my shoe.” His tone was demanding, leaving no room for argument. Your stomach dropped, the thought of being treated like such making you feel filthy. Jeonghan kicked lightly at your calf, a subtle gesture to snap you out of it. Gulping, tears pricked your eyes as you lowered yourself onto your knees. He nudged his foot between your legs, forcing them open as he settled it directly at your core. “Come on baby.” The words that he spoke felt anything less than reassuring. “Make me wait any longer and I just might hit post.”

The threat encouraged you as you ripped the bandaid off and settled onto his shoe. The leather felt cold against your skin, the unfamiliar feeling being somewhat uncomfortable. The man moved his foot slightly, the friction against your clit causing you to hiss at the contact. This was dirty – beyond dirty; and although you wished you weren’t in this particular position right now, your body seemed to not take the hint. Your slick coated the leather of his shoe, arousal beginning to drip. As if this couldn’t get any more embarrassing, you squeezed your eyes shut, rocking slowly against it. 

Jeonghan relaxed against the chair, watching you with a predatory gaze. He was beginning to get bored and he was also starting to get sick of you taking your sweet time. Swiftly, he reached forward to grab your jaw in his hand. 

You lurched forward, eyes shooting open in shock and a moan being ripped from you as the sudden action caused his foot to press against your cunt harshly. “Jesus fuck.” He groaned. “Can’t even do this shit right.” His fingers pressed into the skin of your face and you found yourself able to move away from his grip. It caught you off guard when his other hand threaded into the strands of your hair, tugging your head back. You unintentionally grabbed his leg to stabilize yourself, mouth opening to let out a sound of pain. Deciding to take advantage of the compromising situation he put you in, Jeonghan’s fingers slipped inside your mouth. You resisted the urge to chomp down on them, fearing that he might act in a moment of anger and release the photos you were so desperately trying to avoid getting out to the public. Instead, you took what he was giving you, letting the tears fall steadily down your face as you gazed up at him. 

“There we go.” He taunted, slipping his digits further down your throat. He rocked you himself, taking over for you as it seemed you weren’t doing a good job at it according to him — not like he gave you the chance to anyways.

The urge to gag was strong as you coughed around his fingers. Your mascara had begun to run down your face, only encouraging his ministrations further. Your body rolled against his leg, tits brushing on his dress pants every time he swayed you forward. Muffled sounds escaped your throat, partly from accommodating the fingers shoved down it and partly from trying to hold back the moans. You refused to let it feel good — you didn’t want him to make you feel good. 

Give him an inch and he would take a mile.

“Oh c’mon sweetheart.” Jeonghan’s eyes softened, lips jutting into a pout to make him look almost sympathetic. 

The fucker was taunting you.

“Don’t be like that.” He shook his leg, foot grinding against your folds. 

You let out a displeased groan, tears falling, yet eyes glaring at him. He pushed his fingers farther down, you choking around them before he sighed and reluctantly pulled them out. The realization that you refused to quit the tough girl act had settled in and pushed him way past the point of having any patience. 

“Fine,” He sneered, “Be a bitch then.” His hand gripped firmly at your hair, tugging you up from the ground with him. You grabbed his torso to stop yourself from falling at the swift movement. He shoved you forward towards the bed and you stumbled over your own two feet as you landed on the plush mattress. “Face down, ass up.” He demanded.

You stared at him, chest heaving. Sure, an awful attempt at riding his shoe was shameful, but being put into a position in which one of the most intimate parts of your body was completely on display for him was just downright degrading. 

He had to have a humiliation kink — there was absolutely no possible way he didn’t. 

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow as you took longer than he would have liked. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” His tone was threatening and you suddenly found yourself giving in to avoid the risk of what he might do if you suddenly changed your mind.

Yoon Jeonghan was certainly a man of his word. He had given you an ultimatum, and this was the option you had chosen. You had no one to blame but yourself as you knew better. Even as the thought of those specific photos leading to your impending doom was in the back of your mind, you still hit send. 

With a heavy heart, you turned around and sat on your knees. Tears dripped onto the white duvet, staining it with your mascara. Hesitantly, you leaned forward, bending into the exact position he asked of you. From behind, Jeonghan watched you like a hawk, eyes more than satisfied with the view. Your pretty little cunt was all exposed for him as he pleased and to make matters worse, — at least in your case, you were sopping wet. 

He had to fight back a groan, his pants tightening when his cock hardened. Wasting no time, he smoothed his hand over the curve of your ass. You flinched at the contact, his rings cold against your skin. You were hot to the touch and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he concluded it was from your ongoing embarrassment. His hands trailed further down, settling on either side of your pussy lips and using his thumbs to spread your folds to expose you further. The want and need to take you there right on the spot was strong, but he was patient — or at least, he was trying to convince himself of that. 

He let you go and you finally took a deep breath, not even noticing you had been holding it back all that time. You barely had time to collect yourself, struggling to calm your emotions when you suddenly felt a painful sting. The smack traveled throughout the room, loud and clear. You lurched forward, gripping tightly onto the bed sheets as a yelp left your mouth. Your mind was racing, heart beating fast in your chest as you couldn’t believe what he had just done. 

And he did it again — except this time he didn’t spare any time for the pain to linger away. Jeonghan’s hand came down hard and fast, raining smacks on your poor sensitive pussy. You attempted to get up, only to be forced back down as he continued his endless relent. 

“J-Jeonghan.” Your sobs filled the room, the stinging sensation becoming painful and overwhelming. “H-hurts.” You reached a hand back from your vulnerable position to try and stop him, but he slapped it away instead of showing any mercy. 

Your skin had now turned a light shade of red, arousal spread messily around your inner thighs and glistening in the lighting of the hotel lamps. You cried into the sheets, mostly out of pain, but partly because you were beginning to feel a faint amount of pleasure as his smacks began to land directly on your clit. The thought of somewhat starting to enjoy this was terrifying, however, you couldn’t stop the whine from leaving your mouth as his fingers grazed against your bundle of nerves with every slap.

The sound was soft, almost under your breath, but still, it somehow managed to reach his ears. Jeonghan came to a halt, a cheeky grin already across his face as he gazed down at you. “You’re beginning to enjoy this, aren’t you?” It was a useless question, one in which he had already figured out the answer to. 

You stayed silent, avoiding making even the smallest peep as he rubbed your pussy — the stimulation causing some of the pain to be soothed. He snickered, intently watching your expressions as he did so. “Whore.” 

Your stomach fluttered at the degrading title, hole clenching around nothing. He swiped a finger through your folds, using your wetness as lube when he inserted two of them. Your mouth fell open in silence as you adjusted to them. You whimpered as he kept his hand completely still, his middle and ring fingers making “come hither” motions slowly against your walls. Biting at your lip, you refused to make a sound from the slight pleasure you were experiencing. He kept it up for a while, wanting to keep you on edge. 

Just as you were getting accustomed to the feeling, Jeonghan took you by surprise. His fingers quickly rammed in and out of you at a deadly pace, not faltering once. Your hand slammed down beside your head as you immediately let out a loud cry. “Oh my god!” You moaned out, this time not bothering to hold back. You jutted your ass out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his two fingers constantly slammed against your g-spot. With each drive of his digits into your pussy, it drew out wet sounds that you shamelessly had no choice but to accept — not like you could do anything about it anyways. As much as you were trying to deny it, your body felt good even though it was Jeonghan of all people making you feel that way. He showed you no mercy as he refused to slow down. His fingers glided into you with ease, slick coating them entirely. At this rate, he could slip a third finger in as it would seem so easy to do so. 

Jeonghan focused on your face, enjoying how your jaw fell slack and lids kept fluttering close. “You’re such a fucking slut.” He ripped his fingers out of you, landing a sharp slap, this time on your ass. “Letting me use you like this, huh?” You gasp, hips bucking a little bit at the unexpected contact. Once again, his digits slam into you, moving at lightning speed. His movements were aggressive, almost as if he was on a mission.

His question went unanswered as you found it hard to formulate any proper words. Your brain was empty, not a single thought on your mind as you gave into the pleasure you were receiving. It was hard to ignore, even if you desperately wanted to do so. Atlas, the spongy spot inside your walls was found and Jeonghan took advantage of that when he noticed. You got louder, babbling nonsense he couldn’t comprehend as he targeted it. “No, no.” You sobbed, the feeling forming in the pit of your stomach becoming suddenly overwhelming. “S-stop it.” Your voice was hoarse and you stuttered as it was difficult to even speak with his relentless ministrations inside your pussy. Jeonghan didn’t listen to you, your cries only encouraging him further. “Jeonghan, please.” To no avail, the squelching sounds picked up and the pressure building within you finally bursts. With the yell of his name, a rush of euphoria spread through your limbs, body trembling as you came undone. Jeonghan didn’t let up, instead continuing even as liquid gushed from your cunt and spread everywhere. 

“Ugh.” He groaned. “You’re making a mess.” A sly smirk threatened to spread across his face as he accomplished what he had been trying to do in the first place. 

Make a wreck out of you — he can check that off his bucket list. 

You bawled into the mattress, cheeks turning red from embarrassment when you realized you had no control over what was happening. Your muscles had become far too relaxed and you struggled to get a hold of yourself from him consistently fingerfucking you. “Can’t-,” You whimpered. “Can’t help it.” You sounded pathetic, and to say it turned Jeonghan on would be an understatement. 

Your orgasm subsided over and Jeonghan slipped his fingers out of your cunt; but he was far from being done. In fact, he was just getting started. You whined as he ground his palm against your clit, still being sensitive and not quite ready to take another one. “T-too much.” You fussed. He laughed at the state of you, finding it amusing. He caressed his hand over your ass yet again, this time giving it one more smack before ordering you to turn over. You stayed still for a moment, feeling sluggish and exhausted. Slowly, you lowered your body to the bed, breathing heavily as you collected yourself. 

Your mind was racing — images of Seungcheol’s face if he ever found out about this, the consequences if your nudes got leaked, and what else Jeonghan had in store for you — flooding your thoughts.

A warning slap to the back of your thighs had you rolling over quickly, the sting drawing out a wail from you. “No more.” You whispered through shallow breaths, still trying to gather yourself post-orgasm. You had never experienced something so intense in your life and to say it had knocked the wind out of you would be an understatement. 

Jeonghan ignored you, not even so much as bothering to look at your face. He had his focus elsewhere, narrowing in on one thing, and one thing only. He tapped the side of your thigh twice, “Open your legs.” 

You shook your head no, crossing your limbs even tighter together. Your chest heaved up and down, the fear starting to rise at the consequences that you might face from your refusal. 

Jeonghan released an entertained huff, nodding his head. You looked away for a split second, his burning gaze on you being far too severe to maintain eye contact. 

Your mistake.

You saw it coming from your peripheral vision, and it was already too late to prevent it from happening. The sharp sensation spread across your left cheek, and although it wasn’t as hard as it could have been, it still caused your face to grow hot. The unexpectedness mixed with the pain of the slap caused you to yelp, and you immediately went to rub at the tender spot as you stared up at him wide-eyed. 

“Don’t let me tell you again Y/N.” He bit out. “Spread your fucking legs.”

You were still too startled to process his words, let alone abide by them. Jeonghan exhaled a frustrated sigh, “Useless,” he muttered, before hooking his arms around your legs and yanking your body to the very edge of the bed where he stood. Your arms darted out to try and stabilize yourself, propping yourself up on your elbows. If you weren’t going to do what he said, then Jeonghan sure as hell would do it for you. He placed his hands on the underside of your thighs, forcing them up and apart until your knees were to your shoulders. A small smile spread across his face, his knowledge of your ballet skills currently being used against you as your flexibility came in handy for the current position he manhandled you into. A soft cry ripped from your throat as you suddenly felt all too vulnerable and exposed. 

Jeonghan sucked in a breath as he held you open, staring down at your glistening folds. His cock felt restricted in his pants, a tent forming from the sight of you. “Even better than the photos.” He said under his breath. His eyes trailed from your cunt, grazing over your tits, before finally landing on your face. The waterworks trailed down your cheeks, mascara completely smudged. Your eyes were doe-like, a silent plea for mercy attempted to be conveyed through them. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tilting his head, Jeonghan cooed in faux sympathy. “You did this to yourself.”

You knew he was right, he had given you the option and you had made your decision. Let this be a learning curve for you never to send your nudes to someone again, and never to date a man whose best friend is the devil in disguise. 

Jeonghan reached his hand out and to his surprise – despite him letting go of your legs, you continued to stay spread open for him. He gripped at your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin as he forcefully squished your cheeks together. “Just say the words and I’ll put an end to this.” He was a menace, yes; but evil, no.

Who was he kidding, maybe just a little bit. 

The offer lingered on your mind and for a split second, you were tempted to take it – to just say no and leave it at that. However hidden behind all the fear and humiliation, was the slight twinge of excitement and pleasure you were desperately trying to ignore. If you ended this now, it would come at the price of your public appearance and you would be damn crazy to consider that choice over being brought to an orgasm. 

Jeonghan saw the exact moment you let your defenses down, the way your shoulders relaxed and breathing calmed being enough to let him know that your mind was made even without so much as a word from you. He scoffed, releasing your cheeks from his hold. “That’s what I thought.” 

You resisted the urge to whimper as his fingers found your nipple, twisting and giving it a harsh tug. “Ugh,” he stepped away from you, taking in the scene before smirking. “I’m tired of doing all the work — make yourself feel good for me hm?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing exactly what he was trying to get at. “What?” You asked timidly, watching as he stepped further away and began to unbutton his shirt. 

“What?” He laughed mockingly. “You’ve never touched yourself before?” 

At his accusation, you turned your face away from him. Suddenly the comforter seemed to be very interesting as you refused to make eye contact with him. Your cheeks bloomed an embarrassing shade of pink, soon to become red from shame. 

“My god.” Jeonghan scoffed, his arms falling at his sides in mild disbelief. “You really think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?” His tone was sharp, anger evident in his voice. “Think you’re too perfect to play with your pussy?” He inched closer to you, “To shove a few fingers up your cunt?” 

You didn’t answer him. With just one wrong word, there was a possibility you could send him over the edge and that was the last thing you wanted. He tapped at your cheek, the slaps being half-assed yet still doing enough to get your gaze focused on him again. His smile was devious and it scared you just a little bit. “We’ll see about that.” He smacked your already puffy cunt, the pain causing your hole to clench around nothing as you cried out. “Get to work.” He demanded.

You wiped the tears from your face with one hand, but nevertheless, not wanting to piss him off any further, your other hand slid down to the very spot he wanted it at. You swiped at your folds, collecting your essence and settling your fingertips on your clit. 

Truth be told, much to your dismay and to add honesty to Jeonghan’s words — he was right. You haven’t done this before. Typically it wouldn’t be a big deal, but now, especially in this situation where it could be useful; your lack of masturbation throughout your life could lead to your downfall. 

“Clock’s ticking angel.” Jeonghan taunted, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Don’t make me hit post.” 

Almost immediately you darted up further on your elbows. “No!” You yelled, desperation clear as day. “I-I’m doing it.” You lowered back down to get comfortable. Hesitantly, your fingers got to work, moving at a slow pace before picking up. Your pleasure was at an all-time low despite being soaking wet and you couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that you didn’t exactly know how to get yourself there. In frustration, you focused on yourself, tuning out the man standing in front of you entirely. You drew figure eights on the bundle of nerves, putting your memory to good use from exactly what Seungcheol would do at times. Of course, it had always taken a while and never felt as good as what Jeonghan had done to you tonight — but nevertheless, at least it made you feel something. 

You bit back a moan and as much as you would like to make yourself believe that it was from the thought of Seungcheol, you knew it wasn’t true. No. In fact, it was because of his best friend who currently stood at the foot of the bed watching your every move. He looked bored out of his mind, more than likely silently teasing you for your pathetic attempt at getting yourself off. 

The sigh that left his mouth urged you to do better, the need to prove him wrong becoming strong. You ran a finger down to your hole, entering it slowly. There was barely any stretch, your pussy already used to being stuffed with Jeonghan’s much longer fingers. 

He perked up when he noticed you slip a finger in, eyebrows raised, clearly not having expected you to penetrate yourself. “C’mon.” He pushed. “You can do better than that.” You slipped another digit in, using your juices as lube to easily bottom out in your cunt. Jeonghan shook his head with a smile, almost feeling bad for Seungcheol, who probably never got the chance to see you like this. “There we go.” He said as you began to move your fingers in and out of your pussy, trying to replicate the gesture he was doing to you earlier. “That’s it.” 

A whimper left your mouth, feeling your digits slide against your walls. Your mouth fell open, however it was more so in distress than pleasure.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

No matter how many times you did it, no matter how long it went on for, and no matter how much you actually hated to admit it — your fingers didn’t feel nearly as good as when Jeonghan’s were buried deep inside your pussy.

Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes, and you let out a cry. Your pride was long gone, and you no longer had the energy to try and revive it. Your arm was beginning to get tired and body hot from the hopelessness of bringing yourself to an orgasm. “F-fuck.” You sobbed, ripping your fingers from your hole. Shamefully, with your ego finally being laid to rest, you willingly called out for him. “Jeonghan,” You begged, voice cracking in despair. “Please.” 

Jeonghan would say that he couldn’t believe his ears, but deep down inside, he knew that he was the one who brought you to this breaking point. He hummed, letting you know that he acknowledged you. 

“I can’t do it.” You wailed, holding back just a little to make it not seem like you were throwing a tantrum as if you were the spoiled little brat he always sought you out to be. 

He snickered, drawing closer to where you laid. “You wanna cum, don’t you?” 

“Yes please.” You whined, legs unconsciously spreading further. You would surely kick yourself if you processed your actions, but you were already too far into desperation to realize. 

Jeonghan gave in, not because he pitied you, but because he was sure he needed to be inside you within the next few minutes or he just might bust a load in his pants. He replaced your fingers with his own, pumping them in and out just like you were doing to yourself before. Surprisingly, your pussy felt much more accustomed to his touch than your own, being able to ignite the feeling of bliss much too quickly. Somehow within yourself, you found enough strength to hold eye contact, looking up at him through your wet lashes. Endless pants left your mouth, and even if you wanted to hold them back, it was useless. He was making you feel good, and with the way your hole was clenching tightly around his digits — he knew it too. 

Working you up to the brink of another orgasm, Jeonghan pulled away quickly as soon as he saw the signs. From the way your whimpers turned into moans, subtle beads of sweat trickled between the crevice of your breasts, and eyes began to roll back; it was enough for him to stop. You cried aloud as soon as the pleasure faded. “No!” You yelled in distress, but Jeonghan couldn’t care less. “Please Jeonghan, please.” You knew you hit rock bottom when you begged the one person you currently hated the most to give you an orgasm. 

He shrugged, a hand smoothing over your inner thigh. “If you want to cum so bad, I'm not stopping you.” 

“B-but-,” You were rendered speechless. “Need you.” 

That was for sure the last thing you ever thought you would admit. You — needing Yoon Jeonghan of all people.

Jeonghan cooed at you. “Poor angel.” He mocked sympathetically. “Wanting me to play with her pussy so badly.” His words were laced with filth, yet they had your toes curling. He grazed his thumb through your folds and over your clit, spreading your arousal and causing you to shudder. “Dripping, all for me.” He smirked down at you with his finger rubbing slow, agonizing circles on your bundle of nerves. It was enough to feel good, but certainly not enough to send you over the edge. “Don’t worry angel. I’ll let you cum.” 

He stopped entirely and the groan that left your throat let him know that you were less than pleased. The constant push and pull was beginning to irritate you, however you were in no position to complain. No — not when Jeonghan had the upper hand. 

He ordered you not to move and you obliged. There was no use in making this any harder than it was, you had learned that over the course of the past hour. He didn’t care how long it took, let alone what it took. He was determined to make a mess out of you and unfortunately, much to your disbelief, you were voluntarily giving in to him. 

He draped his suit coat over the armchair, his pants following soon after. With each piece of clothing he shed, you found yourself getting wetter and wetter — awaiting the best part. His thumb lingered between the waistband of those damn Calvin Klein’s, him smiling tauntingly at you as it was all you could keep your eyes on. “Want them off?” He asked smugly, already knowing the answer.

You glanced up at him before reverting your vision back to where his hand was, nodding repeatedly. “Yes, yes.” You said far too eagerly. “Take them off.” 

Jeonghan chuckled, finally discarding the last garments and ultimately leaving him partially nude. His dress shirt was still on, though unbuttoned all the way which made up for him not fully taking it off. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as you caught sight of his cock, standing tall and leaking with precum. He looked irresistible, and if you were just a little more far gone from your previous orgasms, maybe in your half-empty mind you would’ve mistaken him for an angel — or a devil in this matter.

He stalked towards you, arms reaching out to press your thighs further against your shoulders. You allowed him to without putting up a fight, too caught up with the inevitable scenarios your brain conjured up with what he had in store for you. 

Gripping at the base of his cock, Jeonghan pumped himself a few times, allowing droplets of his precum to drip onto the carpet before slapping it against your pussy. Your legs threatened to close as you moaned from the feeling. He scoffed playfully, sliding his cock further past your cunt and up your pelvis. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you looked down at your stomach as you tried to work out what he was doing. He seemed so intent on watching himself rather than you and it piqued your interest. As you averted your gaze to his line of vision, a groan escaped from your mouth and you couldn’t help but throw your head back from the sight.

He was sizing you up. Trying to figure out himself, just how far he would be buried deep inside of you — and dare you say, at this very moment, you were just as invested as he was. To see for yourself, the bulge in your belly when he stuffs you full of his cock and brings you to a high Seungcheol never could. 

You felt the head of his cock drag between your folds a few times, bumping your clit and drawing out a whimper as it stimulated the bundle of nerves. It all happened too soon; somewhere between opening your eyes and propping yourself up again, you realized it was useless when you fell back onto the mattress. The scream erupted from you in both pleasure and surprise as Jeonghan wasted no time, not slamming into you, but still gliding in fast enough to make your head spin. He clenched his eyes shut as your hole squeezed around him, showing his cock no mercy just as he’s been doing to you all night.

Don’t cum. Don’t cum. Don’t cum. He repeated in his head like a mantra, but it was incredibly tough to stick to it when you were clamping around him like your life depended on it. “Fuck,” He breathed out, “You’re so tight.”

You adjusted to him with only just a little less of ease, having to remind yourself to breathe as he bottomed out. If Seungcheol had the girth, then Jeonghan certainly had the length. You could feel his tip kissing your cervix and you feared that it wouldn’t take much at this point to send you over the edge yet again. 

He started off slow, sliding in and out of you at a moderate pace until not only you, but he himself also grew accustomed to. It was more for his sake than yours as he tried to loosen you up to the point in which he didn’t feel like cumming every time he entered and exited your cunt. Sighs escaped from your lips with each move, encouraging him to pick up the speed as he was determined to rile you up and make you more vocal for him. Your hands tangled with the plush comforter beneath you, using it as a squeeze toy to assist with taking what he was giving you. Jeonghan may be going easy on you now, but only a fool would think he’d keep up with the act – and you were right.

Soon, he was driving his cock into you, and with each thrust, you could feel him dragging against the inside of your walls. You were aware of everything, from his fingers pressing into your skin to his balls slapping against your ass. The mere feeling elicits a moan from you, eyes falling shut in pleasure only to fly open again when he lands a harsh slap to your tit. He tugs and pulls at your nipple, your body jerking up in response. “Eyes on me.” He demands. 

You listen, making eye contact with him. If the phrase “the devil behind those eyes” was reincarnated into a person if possible, you were sure it would be Yoon Jeonghan. With the way he was staring down at you, so predatorial as he took whatever agenda he had against you out on your poor pussy, you were fairly certain he would still post the photos despite you doing what he asked. 

Your jaw went slack, falling what seemed to be permanently open as you found yourself unable to hold back any of the sounds he evoked from you. He smiled at you, enjoying the way your tits bounced in perfect harmony with his thrusts and your chest heaved in anticipation. “Such a cute little cocksleeve.” He cooed.

You whimpered at his words, lids fluttering close despite warning yourself to ensure they didn’t. Jeonghan didn’t let it slide this time as he decided he’d had enough of reminding you to keep them on him. You feel his hand snaking up your body, enclosing around your neck. He uses his hold on you as leverage to yank you up on your elbows and you peer at him like a deer in the headlights. His glare was hard, not faltering once even as his hips rammed his cock further into you. 

“The hell did I tell you?” He asked through gritted teeth. “What? Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already?” 

To answer his question, one in which he already knew; your eyes rolled and you babbled incoherent words, too far immersed in pleasure to form a proper response. Jeonghan scoffed at the state of you, mood slightly elevated from accomplishing what he had intended to do all along. “Too easy.” He muttered.

You clenched on tightly to the wrist that was around your throat as he tightened his hand. You were beginning to get a little lightheaded, however, rather than scaring you, it only added more to the ecstasy. “Shit!” You cried when he hit your sweet spot exactly. It didn’t take him long to find it and needless to say, it threw you for a loop. The feeling was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, especially considering Seungcheol has never made you cum on his cock before. Jeonghan however, had the main objective to see you fall apart on his. “Fuck, Jeonghan!”

The man took notice of the way you absentmindedly ground your core against him, a gesture that silently yearned for more. He rutted into the same spot again, a wicked grin spreading across his face as your eyes glossed over and pussy squeezed around the base of his cock. “Right there?” He asked, already well aware of just how to angle himself to hit the same exact area every single time.  

“Yes, yes, god yes!” You chanted as he without fail, slammed into your sweet spot repeatedly. The feeling had you gripping onto his wrist even tighter if possible, using his arm as leverage to ground yourself. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked, keenly examining the expression you were making. 

You nodded frantically, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. Jeonghan didn’t only want you to watch him, but he wanted to hear you too. 

“Tell me just how good baby, I want to know.”

Unfortunately for you, unable to put into words exactly how you felt; nothing but mewls and whimpers left your mouth. 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes at you, slowing his hips down to a pace that left you unable to cling to the pleasure threatening to leave your body. “No, no!” You rushed to claw at him, protesting his sudden action. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop.”

The man clicked his tongue, finding your reaction more than amusing. You were begging, and he didn’t even have to ask.

“F-feel so good Jeonghan.” You tell him what he wants to hear. “Love it.”

More content than he was before, Jeonghan started to move again, however, despite this he was still less than satisfied. “Love when what?”

“Love getting fucked like –,” Your breath hitched in realization and you beat yourself up over the fact that you were getting fucked so dumb your thoughts were reduced and you couldn’t process anything escaping from your mouth. You fell quiet as you became conscious of your words.

Jeonghan quirked an eyebrow at your silence. “Awh.” He cooed, feigning sympathy. “Like what baby, I’m listening?” Your lip trembled as you were unable to divert your gaze away from him. “Like a slut?” He answered for you. “Right angel, ‘cause that’s what you are hm?”

Tears fell steadily down the sides of your face, only blurring your vision and making you seem weak. You moved your head in the slightest of nods to pathetically agree and that finally made Jeonghan pick back up from where he left off. This time, instead of easing into it, he slammed into you again and you sobbed from the intrusion. Your pussy faced his cruel relentlessness, although happily letting him in and out as he worked you up to a pleasurable sensation yet again. Sloppy sounds of wetness filled the room, along with the smacking of skin-to-skin contact. You reached for one of your tits, taking your nipple between your fingers and rolling it for extra stimulation. You had never been one to focus on your breasts before, but Jeonghan was making something out of you that no one ever could – a whore.

“My little slut.” He groaned as he watched what you were doing to yourself. 

“Yes Hannie!” You say, using the nickname you had only ever heard his close family and friends call him by — something you couldn’t ever be considered. “Love when you fuck me like I’m your little slut.” You babbled, too far gone to comprehend what you were saying to its full extent. You would surely regret it later, but for now, the consequences rest in the very back of your mind. “All yours.”

Jeonghan’s hips stuttered at your claim. His. You were all his. To please, to humiliate, to claim – you practically said it yourself. 

“Tell me, angel,” He hissed, thumb swiping over your clit and causing you to gasp. “Seungcheol ever make you feel this good?”

Seungcheol. Seungcheol? Who was he again? – Oh yeah, right. 

You struggled between moans, finding it difficult to put a face to the name, even if it was your ex-boyfriend as his best friend of all people fucked you stupid. “No.” You cried, your hips lifting off the bed as something began to form in the pit of your stomach. With each thrust, you could feel Jeonghan’s cock kissing your cervix, threatening to send you over the edge. 

“What a shame.” Jeonghan shook his head. “He should’ve put this cute lil’ cunt to good use while he had the chance.” His remark caused you to whimper pitifully, yet you could still feel a rush of delight coursing through your veins. You were almost there, and it wouldn’t take long to have you fall apart either. 

Your pussy tightened around his shaft, gripping him so immensely tight that Jeonghan’s hand accidentally squeezed harder around your neck. He went to loosen up immediately, but with the way your lids fluttered, he could sense that you liked it. The minimal breathing room that he had left you with only added to the pleasure that you were feeling. There was no escaping the warm, tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. Your toes curl as he fucks into you at a speed almost inhumane, treating you as if you were nothing but a toy for him to get off with. You couldn’t even talk if you wanted to, the only thing on your mind at the moment being your orgasm. 

You sank your nails into him, scratching at his arms, but it was almost as if he couldn’t feel it, entirely too focused on chasing his own high as well. 

In and out. In and out. In and out – just like his fingers had done so earlier before, and it wasn’t until he used his other hand to rub at your clit that the feeling washed over you entirely. It was intense – leaving your ears ringing to the point in which you couldn’t even hear what sounds you were making. All you saw was black, most likely from your eyes being rolled into the back of your head, and for a split second there it was as if you were floating. The moan that left your mouth was borderline pornographic, and Jeonghan just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His cock twitched inside of you, steady pace faltering before he eventually allowed his own orgasm to take over. He filled you to the brim, letting out small sighs of satisfaction. From the chaos of it all, you could slightly make out the wetness that you felt underneath where your ass lay, and the comforter was now most likely ruined further from unavoidably squirting for the second time that night. 

Jeonghan’s chest heaved up and down for a few seconds, and he gathered himself before letting go of your throat. You let out a large breath as soon as he did, followed by a whine when you felt him slide his cock out of your hole. Your mind was foggy still and you struggled to grasp onto reality, but you could sense him stepping out from in between your legs. You could hear as he got dressed, the metal of his belt buckle clanking, but still, you stayed put with your legs spread and eyes shut; limbs feeling like jelly. Jeonghan watched as you laid there, buttoning up his shirt messily. He had done a number on you, and it left him a lot more than content. He stalked towards you after gathering his stuff, you completely oblivious with your lids closed. His cum had now begun to ooze out of your pussy, leaking further down and this was an opportunity he could not miss. 

Somewhere between the lingering daze and gaining your senses back to their full extent, you heard the shutter of a camera.

“What are you doing?” You shot up instantly, pleasure washed away and now replaced with fear. Your legs instinctively clamped shut, shielding your messy cunt from not only his view, but the camera lens as well. 

Jeonghan shrugged, giving the photo a once over before tucking the device away in the safety of his pocket. “Just for safe measures.”

Your heartbeat sped up as you looked at him with eyes full of betrayal. “But you said you wouldn’t.”

“And I won’t,” He reassured, too relaxed about this whole predicament for your liking, “But what’s Gossip Girl without a little bit of blackmail?” He laughed, winking at you as he turned on his heels and began walking towards the door. 

You glared daggers into his back from behind him, still sitting frozen on the bed and unable to move. He reached out for the doorknob, opening it up, “Oh, and Y/n,” he said, turning back around and reaching his hand in his pocket to fetch something. His voice was an octave lower than before, gaze matching it with a deadly stare set on you. 

“What.” You snapped. 

“Don’t forget,” He waved his phone in the air. “I own you now.” 

The door slammed shut behind him and a sob finally ripped from your throat as you allowed yourself to cry freely. You shoved your face into your hands, coming to the conclusion that your fate now lied with him – and if there was anything you learned from tonight, it was that he would ruin you in any way he deemed possible. 

XoXo, Yoon Jeonghan.

[ver8ho]

makes me want to watch gossip girl 😭🩷

[nightshao]

𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒊𝒎

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Yoon Jeonghan x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ You realise someone’s been following you — but when a private investigator steps in to help, it becomes clear the stalker isn’t after money or lust at all.. he’s trying to protect you from something worse.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Fluff, Stalker au, Dark Romance, Mystery, Little confusing.. ready your minds lol, Jeonghan be a little fcked up here.., Porn w/ Plot (please proceed to READ ALL WARNINGS for your safety)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 13.3k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, FICTIONAL WORK ONLY, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (f. receiving), tongue fucking (f. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, restraining hands, stalking, kidnapping, blindfold sex, body worship, dirty talk, degradation, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans, possessiveness, creampie, nipple sucking, swing fling position (without ropes), pinning to the wall, squirting, a little dubcon, coming inside without consent, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of gun and fights, lying, scene of getting chased, mention of implied death (no mcd don’t worry)

🎧 ➙ RunRunRun by Dutch Melrose ⋮ R U Mine by Arctic Monkeys ⋮ Let the World Burn by Chris Grey ⋮ Hooked by Why Don’t We ⋮ Shameless by Camila Cabello

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ Finally wrote something in this genre — it’s been a dream hahaha just a heads up!! if you haven’t read my guidelines, this au (and all my other works) does not include any non-consensual or implied sexual assault, as I’m not comfortable writing those. thank you for understanding.

navigation ✮ masterlist ✮ guidelines

You lived a quiet life, the kind that repeated itself like clockwork. 6:45 a.m., the alarm buzzed. You’d hit snooze twice, drag yourself to the bathroom, stare at the mirror long enough to ask if you really needed a job, then decide yes — rent existed.

The apartment wasn’t much. A one-bedroom squeezed between a laundry shop and an old tailor’s place that never seemed open. But it was yours. Quiet enough for thoughts to echo, small enough that you could find your keys in thirty seconds flat.

By 7:15, you were walking to the corner cafe. The barista, Yuna, already knew your order — earl grey matcha latte, less ice, “because you look like someone trying to survive corporate life.” You’d laugh, pretend to be offended, then leave her a tip anyway.

At 7:32, you boarded the 45B bus. Always the same seat: third row from the back, left side by the window. You’d plug in your earphones, open your notes app, and scroll through the outline for your next article. Another routine. Another day.

Your phone buzzed.

Seokmin ☀️: “You alive?”

Y/N: “Barely.”

Seokmin ☀️: “Tea before work?”

Y/N: “Already on it. Earl grey matcha latte secured.”

Seokmin ☀️: “You and that sugar addiction are gonna die together.”

You smiled faintly, tucking the phone away. Seokmin had been your friend since college — one of those people who texted you good morning and didn’t expect much else, which you appreciated.

The city outside blurred past — gray streets, billboards, faces you’d forget by lunch. It wasn’t until you got off the bus, tea in one hand and bag in the other, that you noticed something strange. Nothing loud. Nothing dramatic. Just.. the feeling.

Like the air had thickened. You brushed it off, turned the corner to your building. Someone laughed behind you — too far to see, but close enough to feel the vibration of it. You didn’t turn around.

The first week, it was just little things. A key left on the counter instead of the hook. A mug on the table when you swore you hadn’t made coffee yet. You blamed it on stress — deadlines, exhaustion, too many late nights spent staring at a blinking cursor on your laptop. You even joked about it to Seokmin over the phone.

“You’re just tired,” he said. “Maybe get an actual hobby. One that doesn’t involve caffeine and self-loathing.” “Wow, thanks. You should try Hallmark cards.” “I’m serious. Rest.” You tried. You really did.

But then came the footsteps. Soft ones. Muffled, like someone walking barefoot down your hallway when the clock hit past midnight. You froze the first time you heard them — the kind of frozen where your heartbeat becomes a drum in your ears. You turned off your laptop screen, the glow disappearing from the room, and listened.

Nothing. Then something. A creak — just one. From the other side of your bedroom door. You waited, barely breathing. When you finally gathered enough courage to stand and flick the light on, the sound stopped. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

You checked every corner. The bathroom. The kitchen. Even under the bed, though you hated how cliche that was. No one. But your door was open. Not wide, just an inch. Enough to make your stomach twist.

You were sure you’d locked it. You always locked it.

That night, you pushed a chair against the doorknob before crawling under the blanket, eyes fixed on the crack of darkness beneath the frame. You didn’t sleep that well. You only blinked.

The next morning, the world was normal again. Almost too normal. People laughed in the cafe. The barista flirted with a customer. Seokmin spammed you with memes during your break. You told yourself last night didn’t happen. That it was a dream born from exhaustion.

Until you caught your reflection in the cafe window — not directly, but enough to notice something odd. Behind you, blurred by the reflection, was a figure.

Still. Watching. You turned around. Nothing. Just a crowd. Your pulse quickened. You shook your head, forced out a laugh at yourself, and went back to your drink.

But the feeling stayed. That weight between your shoulder blades. That quiet whisper in your mind; someone’s watching. And when you got home that night, your apartment door was locked exactly how you’d left it but the chair you’d wedged beneath the knob was moved.

—

The weekend came with rare sunshine, the kind that made the city glow gold instead of grey. Seokmin had dragged you out of the apartment with promises of ‘emotional recovery’ and ‘vitamin D therapy.’

“You can’t live off caffeine and fear,” he said as you both walked through the mall. “Says the guy who once cried over a coffee machine breaking.” “That was a tragic event.” You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

The day felt good — or at least it tried to be. You wandered through stores, tried ridiculous sunglasses, made fun of overpriced candles. Seokmin even convinced you to try one of those claw machines.

“Watch and learn,” he said dramatically, shoving a coin in. “You said that last time, and you won a plastic frog.” “That frog had character.” “Whatever Seok.. I’m not wasting money for that again hahaha.”

When he failed again, you laughed so hard you had to lean against the glass, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. For a moment, everything — the footsteps, the open door, the uneasy nights — all faded into background noise.

“See?” Seokmin said, grinning, “you’re smiling again. Told you-” “-that I need vitamin D and claw machine therapy,” you finished for him. You stopped for boba after, sitting on a bench near the fountain. Seokmin scrolled through his phone while you talked about work and deadlines. It was easy. Familiar.

But even while you laughed, something felt.. off. Your gaze drifted toward the glass storefront beside you, catching the reflection of the crowd moving past. And that’s when you saw him.

A man — standing perfectly still across the street. Too still. He wasn’t on his phone. He wasn’t looking around.

He was looking at you.

He didn’t flinch when you blinked. Didn’t move when someone passed in front of him. His face was calm — too calm — framed by short dark hair that almost caught the afternoon light. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You turned your head sharply, scanning the street. But all you see was just cars, a few people, a vendor calling out for customers. Your pulse stuttered.

“Hey,” Seokmin said, nudging you with his elbow, “you okay?” “Yeah,” you breathed out, eyes darting back to the glass. “Just.. thought I saw someone I knew.” He followed your gaze, shrugged, and went back to his drink.

You laughed softly, but it sounded hollow even to you. Because in the reflection of the store window — in that faint shimmer of light and glass — you could’ve sworn you saw movement again.

A hand. Lifting, slowly. Waving at you.

—

You didn’t sleep that night. Every creak of the apartment, every hum of passing cars — it all sounded too close. Too deliberate. By morning, you were running on nerves. You met Seokmin at your usual cafe, trying to keep your voice steady as you told him everything.

“You’re sure it’s not just.. coincidence?” he asked carefully, stirring his drink. You gave him a look. “Doors don’t unlock themselves, Seok. Neither do windows.” He sighed, leaning back. “Ok, ok, fair. But did you see the guy again?”

You hesitated. “Not exactly. But I felt him. Like someone was watching.” For a second, Seokmin didn’t say anything — just drummed his fingers on the table, his expression clouded. Then he stood abruptly. “You’re going to the police.”

“Seok-” “No, I’m serious. This isn’t some Netflix thriller, okay? If someone’s following you, you report it.” You wanted to argue, but you didn’t have the energy to fight logic.

So that afternoon, you went. The police station smelled faintly of paper and disinfectant. You sat at a metal desk, recounting everything — the sounds, the reflection, the ajar door — to an officer who typed slower than you thought humanly possible.

When you finished, he gave you a practiced smile. “We’ll keep a record,” he said. “But without any hard evidence — photos, videos, physical proof — there’s not much we can do for now.” You stared at him. “So I just.. wait?”

He shrugged, sympathetic but detached. “Try not to be alone. Keep your doors locked.” That was it.

Two hours, a filed report, and the same fear sitting heavier in your chest. Later, you found yourself slumped in Seokmin’s passenger seat, the city lights blurring outside. “They didn’t do shit, did they?” he muttered.

You stayed quiet. “God, I hate this. Ok, listen,” he said suddenly, turning to you. “My brother’s friend, Joshua Hong. He’s a private investigator. Works with missing persons, surveillance cases, the whole thing. He’s legit. I’ll give my brother a call, yeah?”

You blinked at him. “A private investigator? Isn’t that a little much?” “So is getting stalked, Y/N.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. He softened at that, giving your shoulder a light nudge. “Hey. We’ll figure this out. Promise.” Outside, the light turned red, and through the glass reflection of the car window, you thought you saw something again.

Your hand tightened around your seatbelt, tension coiling through your chest. Seokmin noticed instantly — of course he did — and started cracking his usual corny jokes to lighten the air.

“But seriously,” he said after a beat, “you can crash at my place for the meantime. Just until things settle.” You immediately shook your head, crossing your arms in an exaggerated X over your chest. “No way. I’m fine, really. Don’t worry too much — I’ll give you a call when I’m about to get kidnapped.”

He groaned, rubbing his face. “That’s not funny.” “Wasn’t meant to be,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

—

Joshua Hong was exactly what you expected a private investigator to be — calm, composed, and quietly observant. He had that kind of presence that didn’t fill the room, but grounded it instead. His tone was even, professional, and his words carried a kind of warmth that immediately made you breathe easier.

“We’ll start simple,” Joshua said, setting his sleek laptop on a small dining table. “Hidden cameras, motion sensors by your door, and one in your hallway. Nothing invasive, just precautionary.”

You nodded, watching him work. His movements were methodical, fingers steady as he adjusted each tiny device. The soft click of tools against your counter became oddly comforting.

“You’ve had the locks changed, right?” he asked, glancing up at you. “Twice,” you replied. “Good. Still-” he gave a faint, knowing smile “-it’s better to assume someone persistent can find a way in.” That line chilled you more than you expected.

When he finished setting up, Joshua insisted on walking you home from the station that evening “for observation purposes,” he’d said — there was something protective in his tone that made you trust him.

The night air was cool. Streetlights flickered as the two of you walked side by side. He kept a small distance, his hands in his coat pockets, scanning the road ahead every so often. “You don’t have to be scared all the time,” Joshua said softly, almost as if reading your mind. “Sometimes fear keeps us sharp. Just don’t let it keep you trapped.”

You smiled faintly. “You sound like you’ve done this too many times.” “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, eyes flicking briefly to your reflection in the glass of a closed bakery window. Then his gaze hardened.

He stepped closer, his voice suddenly low. “Don’t look. Just keep walking.” Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to turn your head — your peripheral vision caught it: a tall figure across the street, half-hidden by shadow, standing too still.

Joshua’s hand subtly brushed against your back, guiding you forward. “That’s him, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. Your throat went dry. “I think so.” When you finally dared to glance again — the street was empty.

“Mhmm.. got it. A little possessive towards you. huh?”

The following weekend, your apartment felt different. Not scary, not heavy — just quiet in a way that didn’t feel threatening anymore. Joshua’s cameras blinked faintly in the corners, their tiny red lights oddly reassuring.

Seokmin sprawled across your couch with a bag of chips, his legs taking up all the space like he owned the place. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever say this,” he began, crunching loudly, “but these spy cameras make your apartment look expensive.”

You laughed, grabbing the remote and tossing a pillow at him. “You’re such an idiot. They’re for my safety, not your entertainment.” He grinned, holding the chip bag like a mic. “Sure, sure. But admit it the whole setup’s kinda hot. Joshua Hong? Total movie detective name. Tell me he doesn’t look like he solves cases and breaks hearts.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “He’s nice. Professional. That’s it.” Seokmin gasped dramatically. “That’s it? You’re saying that with the face of someone who replayed his voice in her head after he left.” You threw another pillow. “I did not!”

“Please,” he said, sitting up, chip crumbs on his shirt. “The way you talk about him — ‘his voice was calm, his hands steady, his presence reassuring—’ like, come on, are you writing a romance novel or a police report? I bet he’s attractive, based on your description he is, I’ll shoot my shot.”

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “I think he’s straight,” you finally managed to say between giggles. Seokmin clutched his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Unbelievable. Not only am I replaced by a heartthrob detective, but he’s also straight? God really said ‘no crumbs for you, Seokmin.’”

The two of you broke into laughter again, echoing through the small space. For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace. The tension in your shoulders loosened. The silence of the apartment didn’t feel like someone was listening anymore — it just felt like home.

When Seokmin finally left that night, you cleaned up the coffee mugs, humming softly to yourself. The camera light blinked from the corner of the ceiling — steady, blinking, safe.

You smiled faintly at it. “Goodnight,” you murmured playfully. Then you turned off the lights. From across the street, unseen through the blinds, someone else whispered your name despite not being heard — the sound low and reverent. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

Joshua’s eyes stayed glued to the monitor. The footage played in fast-forward — hours of mundane living condensed into seconds: you brushing your hair, watering your plants, cooking dinner. Then, a flicker. The screen glitched.

He slowed the playback. The kitchen light dimmed, blinked twice — and there, in that split-second of darkness, a figure appeared by the hallway mirror. Pale. Still. Gone when the light steadied. Joshua froze the frame and leaned in. The face was barely visible, half-shadowed, but he could make out the faint curve of a smile.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. He clicked through the other cameras — same pattern. Every time the lights flickered, the figure was there. Always standing just far enough to not trigger motion sensors. Always watching. He took a steadying breath, then dialed your number.

“Hey,” you answered, casual, unaware. “What’s up?” “Don’t panic,” he said, his tone professional but tight. “You weren’t imagining things. It’s the same man who’s following us. He’s smart.. careful. He only moves when the lights go out.”

You went quiet. “That doesn’t make sense.” “I know. I’ve cross-checked timestamps. Every time your lights flickered — that was him. Always the same figure. Always in the same spots.” “Can you see his face?”

Joshua hesitated, cursor hovering over the blurred image. “…Barely. But I’ll find out who he is. I promise.” I promised myself that I won’t let things go out of control again.

Hours later, Joshua sat in his car outside a dusty municipal records building. He’d been tracing addresses, permits, anything tied to the neighbourhood. And there it was — a file from six years ago. Yoon Jeonghan.

Registered address: two blocks from your apartment. Evicted after a building fire. Joshua’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “How is he..?” He looked back at the printed photo of the man in the security footage. Same outline. Same shape of the face. He then caught himself not being able to breathe slowly for some reason.

—

Meanwhile, you sat in your favorite cafe, hands trembling slightly as you stirred your drink. It was early evening — the time of day you used to love, before every shadow started feeling alive. You’d started noticing patterns too. The man who keeps on following you, it’s the same man every damn time, the same man who keeps appearing everywhere.

Every time you changed your schedule, the silence followed you. But when you went back to routine — there he was again, slipping into your life like he knew every step you’d take. When you got home that night, the lights flickered once. Your phone buzzed.

Unknown number: You shouldn’t have stayed out this late. It’s dangerous.

—

The stairwell was quiet that night — too quiet. The kind of silence that made every step echo longer than it should. You’d stayed late at work, trying to drown your thoughts in unfinished tasks. Joshua’s warnings looped in your head. You tightened your coat around you and pressed the elevator button. Out of order.

Fine. Stairs it is. The lights buzzed overhead, dim and uneven. You took the first few steps down, one hand on the railing, phone gripped in the other. You told yourself you’d call Seokmin the second you reached your floor. You told yourself you were fine.

Then- a voice. Low. Calm. Behind you. “Don’t turn around.” Your breath caught. “I said don’t.”

You froze halfway down the stairs. You didn’t scream, didn’t move — just calculated. The tone wasn’t threatening; it was steady. Too steady. “You’ve been looking for me,” the voice continued, closer now, “and I’ve been trying very hard to keep you safe.”

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen. Emergency call. One press away. “Who are you?” you asked, keeping your voice even. “And why the hell are you following me?” A soft laugh echoed down the stairwell. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

That made your pulse stutter. You risked a glance over your shoulder — and finally saw him. Tall. Pale skin. Attractive. Under the flickering light. A face too calm for the situation, framed by soft short dark hair that looked almost black in the dimness.

His eyes caught yours. And there it was — that same calm, unblinking stare from the reflection in the shop window. He said your name like it belonged to him. “You need to stop.” “Stop what?”

“Digging. Asking. Looking.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re making it harder for me to protect you.” “Protect me from what?” you bit back. He stepped forward once, slow and deliberate, but kept a distance. His gaze didn’t waver. “From what’s coming.”

You forced a scoff, but it came out shaky. “You sound insane.” “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But I’m the only reason you’re still breathing.” He glanced at the flickering bulb above you, then at your phone — still clutched tight. “Call him if you want,” he murmured. “He won’t get here in time.”

You straightened, hiding the tremor in your hands. “You think I’m scared of you?” He smiled — soft, heartbreakingly gentle. “No. But you should be.”

For a long second, the two of you stood in silence. Then a door opened somewhere above — a neighbour coming home, faint footsteps echoing down. You blinked, and the man was gone. Just like that.

Only the faint smell of perfume lingered — clean, expensive, almost comforting. You exhaled shakily, hand pressed to your chest. The next morning, you found a note slipped under your door.

Don’t go out tonight.

—

Joshua showed up at your apartment, Jeonghan, the stalker keeps on appearing and talking to you already. Is that even his real name? If I’m a stalker, would I tell my name? Eyes shadowed from lack of sleep and worry. He didn’t even knock properly this time — just a sharp, impatient rhythm against the door before stepping in once you opened it.

“You should’ve called me,” he said, voice low but tense. “You said you’d call me if anything happened.” You set your mug down on the counter, trying to keep your composure. “I didn’t exactly have time to schedule it, Joshua. He was just.. there.”

Joshua dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “He cornered you? Did he touch you?” “No. He didn’t.” You hesitated, remembering the way Jeonghan had spoken. Calm. Knowing. “He just talked.”

“That’s what they all do at first,” Joshua muttered, pacing near the window where one of the hidden cameras blinked faintly. “They act calm so you let your guard down. He’s escalating, Y/N. You need to stay somewhere else for a while-”

“I can’t,” you cut in. “Joshua, listen to me.” He turned, brow furrowed. “He knew things,” you said quietly, Joshua swallowed. “Things he shouldn’t.” “Like what?”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “He mentioned my dad’s watch. The one that broke years ago, after he died — I don’t even wear it anymore.” Joshua’s expression barely flickered. “He could’ve seen old photos.” You shook your head. “He also mentioned a scar on my shoulder. The one I can’t even remember how I got when I woke up from a hospital before. I don’t even remember telling Seokmin about that. No one knows, Joshua.”

He froze. “What else did he say?” You hesitated again. There was something about repeating Jeonghan’s words that made them feel heavier. “He said I needed to stop digging before it’s too late. That I’m making it harder for him to protect me.”

Joshua let out a disbelieving laugh — too sharp to sound amused. “Protect you? He’s delusional.” “Maybe,” you said softly, staring at the faint reflection of the both of you in the window glass. “But what if he’s not lying about everything?”

Joshua’s jaw clenched. “You’re starting to sound like him.” “I’m just saying something’s not adding up.”

He took a slow breath, then crouched down in front of you, his voice lowering — not angry now, just tired and careful. “Y/N, listen. Guys like him.. they study people. They’ll learn every little thing about your life so it feels like fate when they show up. It’s not supernatural, it’s obsession. He’s manipulating you.”

You looked at him, really looked, at the concern tightening his features. The rational explanation made sense — but deep down, something about it didn’t sit right. Jeonghan didn’t look like a man trying to manipulate you. He looked like someone who already knew how the story would end.

You swallowed hard. “He said the lights would flicker again.” Joshua’s brows furrowed. “When?” You hesitated. “Tonight.” He stood abruptly, grabbing his phone. “Then I’m not leaving you alone.”

You forced a small, humourless smile. “You really think staying here will stop the lights from going out?” Joshua looked at you then — really looked. “No. But it’ll stop him from coming back.”

—

The light flickered once. Twice. Then the hallway went dark. Jeonghan exhaled, leaning back against the cold wall of the stairwell, letting the shadows swallow him whole. The static hum of the building’s electricity faded into silence — just as he’d meant it to. He was the one who kept on breaking the lights anyway.

He wasn’t doing it to scare her. Never to scare her. It was the only way to draw them out. They always came with the dark — the echoes, the fragments of what erased her before. Every time the lights went out, he could feel them moving. Lingering around her. Searching for the pulse that used to belong to his.

Not this time. Not again.

He tilted his head, eyes catching the faint glow through the crack under her door. He could feel her presence, her heartbeat, even from here — uneven, but alive. That was enough to keep him breathing, even when his lungs shouldn’t work anymore.

“Stay inside,” he murmured, the words more for himself than her. “Don’t make me lose you again.” His gaze drifted toward the window, the reflection just clear enough to catch his own face. It was strange, how it always looked more human when he thought of her.

Then he saw him. Joshua Hong.

Standing near her window, phone in hand, his expression tense, protective — too close. Too comfortable in her space. Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, a flash of something ugly curling in his chest along with a bad memory.

He shouldn’t care. She was safer with someone near. That was the point. That’s why he hadn’t gone inside tonight. He’d promised himself he’d keep his distance unless it was absolutely necessary. But still..

Still, the sight of Joshua sitting where he’s supposed to sit, speaking to her softly like she was something fragile, like he understood her, like he could- Jeonghan’s hand twitched. He could almost hear her laugh through the walls. The sound was faint, muffled — but it cut deeper than anything else could.

“She doesn’t remember you,” he whispered under his breath, half to mock himself, half to calm the ache in his chest. “She doesn’t even know you exist.” But it didn’t matter. Because he remembered.

He remembered the first time he saw her when they were kids — not here, but before. A different place. The same eyes, though. Always the same eyes. The same promise whispered against his neck before everything burned away.

“Next time,” she’d said back then, “we can be more than friends.” And he believed that. He always did. Even if it meant becoming the monster that haunted her.

His gaze flicked back toward her window, where Joshua’s silhouette moved closer to hers. For a second, it looked like Joshua reached out, brushed something from her cheek — and Jeonghan’s hands curled into fists. He forced himself to look away, digging his nails into his palms until the sting anchored him.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he muttered. “Joshua Hong” The overhead light sputtered, the power surging again — he’d let it. She didn’t like the dark. He knew that.

But before he turned to leave, Jeonghan looked back once more. Through the reflection of the glass, through the hum of static between them — and whispered to no one, “They’re coming again, sweetheart. And you don’t even remember dying last time.”

You hadn’t told Joshua.

Not about the camera you disabled. Not about the spare keys you quietly copied. And definitely not about the way you’d been following the man who was following you. You weren’t sure when it stopped being fearful and started feeling like.. curiosity.

Maybe it was because every time you thought he’d cornered you, he never did. Every time you panicked, the danger somehow missed you by inches. Coincidence? You didn’t believe in that anymore.

It started with the flickers. You traced the pattern — the times the lights went out, the streets where it happened, the buildings that lost power for just a second before you felt eyes on you. It wasn’t random. It was like breadcrumbs. And you followed them.

Tonight, the trail led you two blocks from your apartment, down an alley that smelled faintly of rust and rain. The old tenement building at the end was abandoned — or should’ve been. One of the upper windows glowed faintly gold. You pressed your hand to the door. It was unlocked.

Inside, the air was still. The kind of still that hummed — not silence, but waiting. Your shoes clicked softly on the floor as you stepped through. The walls were lined with photos — hundreds of them, printed and pinned, overlapping like scales. You stopped breathing for a moment.

All of them were you.

You, at the cafe. You, on the bus. You, standing by your window, drinking from a chipped mug. You, in the office.

But that wasn’t what froze you. What froze you were the others. The people around you. Your coworkers, your neighbours, even Joshua and Seokmin. Each photo had red circles, strings connecting faces, handwritten notes in neat cursive “Same company.” “Was there last time.” “With friends again.”

You took a step back, your pulse hammering, your throat dry. “What the fuck?” you whispered, reaching for one of the pinned notes. The handwriting was careful — not frantic like a madman’s, but methodical. Deliberate.

She’s in danger again.

A noise — a soft click — came from the corner of the room. Your breath caught. You turned slowly. A camera light blinked once. Taking a picture of you. And you realised.. he’d let you find this place. He was watching you right now.

You swallowed hard, scanning the walls again. Photos. Clippings. Maps. One photo stood out from the rest: it was burned around the edges, faded from age. It showed you — smiling, different hair, different time — standing beside him. Jeonghan. His arm draped casually over your shoulder, both of you laughing.

Your fingers trembled as you touched the image. The date scribbled on the back made your stomach twist. Twenty years ago. You took a shaky breath. “Who are you?”

A faint voice — the one that made your spine straighten every time — echoed from the small speaker near the desk. “I told you,” Jeonghan murmured. His tone was low, steady, the faintest hint of amusement curling beneath the words. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Your pulse spiked. “You wanted me to.” A pause. Then a soft, knowing chuckle. “Of course I did. I wanted to see how far you’d go.” “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, forcing your voice not to shake. “Why do you have these people’s photos- my photos?!”

His tone shifted, suddenly softer. “Because you liked getting photographed” You froze. “What?” “Such a shame, you can’t even remember me,” he said, almost to himself. “But you will. Feel free to leave if you want, Y/N.”

There was a click, and then silence — the speaker went dead. You stared at it for a long time, the echo of his voice still humming in your bones. And when you looked back at the wall, your eyes caught the smallest detail you hadn’t noticed before — a single line of text scrawled beneath one of your more recent photos.

She’s getting closer. Good.

And you took that clue to leave the place. To leave him.

—

You didn’t hear your phone ring at first. It buzzed for a full minute on the desk beside you before you picked it up, still half-focused on the memory of the wall of photos. “Hello?”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” You flinched. “Seokmin?” “Don’t ‘Seokmin?’ me, Y/N!” His voice cracked halfway between panic and anger. “Joshua just called me- which he never does btw- he said you’ve been off-grid all day, not answering him, not picking up your phone, and now he thinks-” “Calm down-”

“Calm down?! You’re investigating a stalker, not shopping for snacks!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. I just needed to look into something-” “Without telling anyone?” You hesitated. “If I told Joshua, he’d stop me. You know that.”

“Because that’s his job, Y/N!” His voice wavered again, softer now. “You can’t just go off like some detective in a thriller movie.. this isn’t funny.” “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” “Then what were you trying to be, huh? Brave? Smart?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to answer. He exhaled sharply through the line. “You sound like you’re shaking,” he said, voice low. “Are you safe right now?” “I am,” you lied. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Seokmin” There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. You could hear him sniffle faintly — he was crying. “Look,” he said finally, voice breaking, “I’m not trying to yell at you, ok? I just- shit, I’m scared. You’re out there chasing something that’s already chasing you.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.” “Promise me you’ll stop,” he said. You stared at your wall and tried to remember what you saw in Jeonghan's room, the inked notes, the string connections that all pointed back to you. You wanted to promise. You really did.

But you couldn’t.

“Seokmin..” He swallowed audibly. Then, after a pause: “Just be safe, ok?”

You smiled faintly, even though he couldn’t see it. “I will.” “Don’t you dare make me regret trusting you.”

The call ended.

—

Rain blurred the city lights into streaks of silver and gold. The streets were empty at this hour, the kind of quiet that made every echo sound too close. You and Joshua ran through the alley, your breaths ragged and quick.

“Keep moving!” Joshua shouted over the downpour, his hand gripping yours tightly. “He doesn’t like running anyways” The lights overhead flickered once. Twice. Then every streetlamp buzzed, dimming in unison. How did he even knew that?

“Joshua-” “Go!”

You turned the corner and ran, water splashing beneath your shoes. Your chest burned, throat raw from gasping. You didn’t dare look back — you could feel it instead. The weight of eyes on your back, the soft hum of someone’s footsteps keeping perfect rhythm with your own.

You broke into the next street, but Joshua wasn’t behind you anymore. The sound of the rain swallowed everything. “Joshua?” you called out, voice trembling. “Where are you?”

No answer. Joshua and I were talking about how he had already gathered clues and was ready to act on his own. He’d figured out a way to lure Jeonghan out and finally put an end to this madness. But before we could even make it to the authorities’ office, we got cornered in the street.

You slowed down, heartbeat pounding in your ears, until a voice — calm and steady — cut through the rainfall. “You shouldn’t run from me.” Your blood went cold. You turned around, and there he was.

Jeonghan stood beneath the flickering light of a lamppost, his black button-up shirt, the collar standing high and crisp against his neck, soaked through, his hair clinging to his face. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Just watching.

“Don’t come closer,” you warned, stepping back. Your voice cracked. He smiled faintly, that same quiet, unsettling calm in his tone. “You don’t understand yet, do you?” “Stop following me!” You were shaking now, half from the cold, half from the fear.

“Whatever you want, I don’t have it-” “I don’t want anything from you.” His voice softened, almost tender. “I’m here for you.” “Why.. why me?” He tilted his head, eyes glinting under the streetlight. “Because it’s you.”

You stumbled backward, heart racing. The streetlight above you flickered again — brighter, then dark. You couldn’t see his face for a second, and when it lit up again, he was closer. Sharp jawline, smooth and defined. His lips are full, relaxed yet carrying an unreadable expression. What draws you in most, are his eyes, half-lidded under the fall of his hair, holding that distant, unbothered calm that feels almost dangerous.

“Jeonghan, please,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain. “Just let me go.” He took another slow step forward, eyes locked on yours. “If I do that, you’ll die. I’ll die too.”

You turned and ran. Your breath hitched as you sprinted down the slick pavement, lungs burning. The rain came down harder, blurring everything. You could hear him calling your name — not yelling, just softly, like he was coaxing you home.

“Stop running. You’ll fall.”

You cried harder, the sound breaking from your throat. Your legs felt heavy, your shoes slipping on the wet ground. The streets all looked the same now — turn after turn, wall after wall — until you realised he’d led you here. You were running in circles.

The flicker came again, and you caught a glimpse of him through the rain. Still walking. Still calm. Still there.

“Please,” you sobbed, breath shaking, “why are you doing this to me?” His answer came closer now, like he was right behind you. “I told you, I’m keeping you safe.”

You turned one last corner — then froze. A shadow blocked the path ahead. The lights flickered, went out completely, and the rain turned into silence. You gasped, stepping backward.

And then everything went black.

When you woke, the first thing you felt was warmth. Too much of it. A blanket — soft, heavy — was tucked up to your chin, and something faintly floral lingered in the air. Not your apartment. Not Seokmin’s house. Not even Joshua’s office. Your eyes flew open.

The room was dim, the light a golden pool cast from a single desk lamp. Four walls, concrete, unfinished. A small window barred with metal. On a nearby table sat your phone, dead. Your shoes were gone, replaced with a pair of oversized socks.

Your heartbeat jumped into your throat. “Easy,” a voice murmured. You turned sharply. Jeonghan was seated in a chair by the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was damp again, falling over his eyes, and there was a small cut along his jaw. The kind that didn’t belong to a man who’d just slept peacefully.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. “Don’t scream,” he said softly. “The walls are soundproof anyway.” You froze.

He sighed, like he was tired, and stood up — too slow, too calm. “You fainted back there, but don’t worry, you’ll be safe here with me.” “Safe?” you snapped, voice trembling. “You kidnapped me.”

“Would you rather be dead?” The words hit like ice water. He said them so casually, so matter-of-factly, that you almost believed him. Jeonghan walked to the counter and poured something into a cup — tea, the same tea you always drink. He brought it over and set it beside you.

“Drink.” “I’m not thirsty.” “Yes, you are.” His voice stayed level, but something sharp slipped beneath it. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Your hands are shaking.”

He reached out to steady them before you could pull away. His palms were warm, steady. You hated the way it made your chest ache. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, softer now. “But I can’t let you go yet.”

You swallowed hard. “Why?” He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You think I’d ever let them touch you again?” You stared at him, heartbeat pounding. “Them?” His gaze flickered toward the door, then back to you. “They found you once before. They erased everything. You think I’d let that happen again?”

You shook your head, backing into the wall. “You sound insane.” “Maybe.” His tone was almost gentle. “But you’re alive. Because of me.”

He moved closer — not enough to touch, but enough that you could see the subtle twitch in his jaw, the sleeplessness under his eyes. His voice dropped low, almost tender

“You can hate me if it keeps you breathing.”

For a moment, the room went still. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled the silence. You could feel his eyes on you, too intent, too knowing. When you didn’t respond, Jeonghan exhaled and stepped back, setting a small bowl of food on the table.

“Eat. Sleep after. You need both.” He turned toward the door. “Jeonghan.” He paused, looking back over his shoulder. You wanted to scream at him, curse him, demand to leave — but the words that slipped out were smaller than you meant.

“Why?” For the first time, his smile faltered. “Because you were supposed to be gone already.” Then he left, the lock clicking softly behind him.

—

You tested your luck the next morning. The moment you heard the faint click of the outer door, you slipped from bed and tried the handle. Locked. Of course. You searched for another exit, maybe a window latch, a vent — something. Nothing.

When Jeonghan came back, you were standing by the door with your arms crossed. “You can’t keep me here,” you said. He only raised a brow, setting a small tray down on the table. “And yet, you haven’t stopped trying.”

“Because I’m not staying.” He walked closer slowly and deliberately, until the air between you tightened. “You’ll stay until it’s safe.” “Safe from what? From you?” That made him smile. “From everything else.”

You didn’t move when he brushed past you to open the curtains. Light poured in — soft morning gold. He looked too normal in it, like he didn’t belong to the darkness that had brought you here. You forced yourself to look away. “You can’t decide what’s best for me.”

“I already did,” he said quietly. Your pulse spiked. He reached up then, fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve to fix where it had slipped off your shoulder. Too gentle, too casual, and yet you froze.

“You’re still shaking,” he murmured. “I told you to eat.” You met his eyes. “Stop acting like you care.” Something flickered there — amusement? Pain? You couldn’t tell. He leaned just close enough for you to feel his breath against your temple.

“You’re hurting me,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t change what’s coming.” Then he stepped back, leaving the words to sink in, the quiet too heavy.

—

It had been a week. You stopped counting days after the third. The walls blurred together, and the air felt heavier the longer you stayed. Jeonghan came and went, silent most times, always bringing food, checking if you’d eaten. You didn’t resist anymore. You couldn’t.

When he walked in that evening, you were sitting on the floor, staring at the untouched meal he’d left that morning. He sighed — soft, weary. “You’re still not eating.” “I’m tired,” you muttered.

“I know.” His voice cracked a little, and before you could look up, he crouched in front of you, taking your hands into his. His palms were warm; yours weren’t. You tried to pull away, but he didn’t let you.

“I don’t want this anymore,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be scared every time you’re near.” Jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his thumbs brushed over your knuckles — almost like he was memorising them.

“I know,” he said again. “And I wish I could tell you that you’ll never have to be. But it’s not true.” That was when the tears came — silent, angry, helpless. He lifted a hand to your face, wiped them before they fell.

“Why?” you asked, voice trembling. “Why are you doing this? Why me? You never answer my questions!” He hesitated. Then exhaled a long, tired breath. “Because this isn’t the first time they’ve tried to take you.”

You frowned, confused, but he didn’t stop. “I used to work for them. A covert intelligence group — off the books, off the radar. Joshua did too. He just doesn’t remember me.” He laughed once, bitter. “He was the golden one. Always clean, always perfect. I was the one who got my hands dirty.”

He stared at the floor, eyes dark with something between guilt and longing. “One of our cases went wrong. You.. were a witness. You weren’t supposed to see what you did, but you helped me anyway. You saved me. And when they found out, they made sure to erase you from everything — your records, your memory, even from the people who once knew you.”

Your chest tightened. “You’re lying.” “I wish I was.”

He let go of your hands then, only to reach for the locket that hung loosely from your neck — one you’d found in your old belongings but never knew why you kept. “I gave you this,” he whispered. “You told me it made you feel safe.”

You stared at it, at him. “Then why didn’t you stop them?” His throat worked, and his eyes flickered with something raw — regret. “Because I didn’t get there in time. And when I did.. you were gone. Not dead. Just.. erased. Everything you were, everything we were.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. “I thought letting you live a normal life was enough,” he said finally. “But they didn’t stop watching. They were waiting for a chance to finish what they started. So I came back.”

“To protect me,” you whispered bitterly.

“To protect what’s left of you.”

He smiled faintly — sad, tired, broken. “Even if you’ll never remember why I loved you in the first place.”

—

Joshua’s office was a mess of papers and open monitors. Every wall was covered with pinned photos, maps, and scribbled notes — connections only he could follow. Seokmin sat slouched on the couch, rubbing both hands down his face. “You’re telling me you can trace her phone but not her?”

Joshua didn’t answer. His jaw was tight as he stared at the flickering red dot on the screen. “The signal’s active but unstable. Like someone keeps turning it on and off. Whoever took her knows how to scramble location pings.” “Whoever-” Seokmin’s voice cracked. “Just say it. It’s Jeonghan, right?”

Joshua looked up then, eyes dark under the pale glow of the monitors. “Yeah. It’s him. Do you remember from six years ago.. Min?” For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the low hum of the computer filled the room. “Of course I do.. Josh”

Joshua’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, hesitant. “If she’s still got her phone, maybe-” “Call her,” Seokmin interrupted, voice shaking but firm. “Please, just call her.” Joshua dialed, heart thudding. The third ring — a click. “Y/N?” Static. Then a low breath.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you safe? Just say something so I know you’re-” The line shifted, a sound of movement, and then another voice came through — smooth, calm, unhurried. “Joshua Hong,” Jeonghan drawled. “You never were good at staying out of things that didn’t concern you.”

Joshua’s back straightened. “Put her on the phone.” Jeonghan hummed, and you heard a faint gasp in the background. “She’s right here.” Then, quieter, “Tell him you’re fine.”

You hesitated, your voice small. “I’m fine.” “Tell him you don’t need him.” Your throat tightened. “I- I don’t need you, Joshua.” Jeonghan smiled faintly, though Joshua could hear it more than see it. “Good girl.”

Joshua’s knuckles turned white around the phone. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Yoon Jeonghan?” “I’m keeping her alive,” Jeonghan said simply, Joshua could hear whimpers on the other side. “Something you couldn’t do before.”

“That’s not protection. That’s control.” “You wouldn’t understand.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped to a low whisper — not anger, but something worse. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone so much you’d rather chain her than bury her.”

For a moment, there was silence, heavy, breathless. Joshua could almost hear Y/N’s trembling breath on the other end. “Jeonghan-” Joshua started, but the call was cut off “Stop bothering us.”

The room fell still again. Seokmin swallowed hard, Joshua didn’t even notice he was already standing beside him. “What did he say?” Joshua stared at the blank screen, Joshua remembers who Jeonghan is. Who Jeonghan was. “Enough,” he murmured, “..to know he’s not letting her go.”

—

“You know,” Jeonghan mumbled, pulling away slightly to watch you try to muffle your cries with a pillow. “You did better hiding your moans than your screams.”

The room was filled with the sound of soft moans and heavy breathing. Your back arched deeply off the table as Jeonghan gripped your thighs, lifting your hips off the surface completely. The position made his cock hit your deepest spots perfectly, making your whole body feel weak.

“Mmph,” you tried to suppress your noises as he pulled almost all the way out, only to push back inside roughly. Your big, round bottom smacked loudly against the table each time. You bit your lower lip hard to keep from screaming loudly. “Jeonghan!”

How did we end up here.. you’re asking?

“Why did you love me…?” you whispered, searching his face, desperate for an answer.

Jeonghan didn’t look at you right away. His gaze flickered to the floor, then the wall, anywhere but your eyes — as if the truth might hurt more if he saw the way you were looking at him. “Because you were the only person,” he murmured, voice breaking with quiet conviction, “who looked at me and saw who I am. Not an orphan. Not a weapon. Just.. me.”

You blinked back tears, heart twisting at the pain in his voice. Slowly, almost timidly, you reached up, fingers brushing his jaw — cold at first, then warm beneath your touch. “You still are,” you whispered.

That was all it took. Jeonghan exhaled shakily, eyes closing as he leaned forward. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing your skin like a promise he couldn’t keep. And then, wordlessly, he kissed you. At first you winced, trying to pull back, but he deepened the kiss.

Jeonghan murmured against your mouth, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours instead. His hand stayed at the back of your neck, gently holding you in place. “Don't pull away.” His thumb caressed your jaw lightly. “Not now.” His hips moved slowly, like he wants to make love instead of fucking.

“No.. Jeonghan,” you whispered weakly, trying to push him away slightly as he started grinding against you. His hands gripped your hips firmly to keep you in place. “Stop... I don't want this,” you pleaded softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again.

He paused, his expression turning cold as he looked at you. The gentle touch disappeared instantly, replaced with rough handling as he suddenly lifted you up off the floor. Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically as he carried you back to the table. He dropped you onto it harshly.

“I’ll make you remember who I was to you.”

His voice was low and dangerous as he stepped between your legs. He grabbed your thighs and spread them wide, pulling your pants and underwear down roughly. His hands moved to unbuckle his belt, eyes locked with yours coldly. “Jeonghan.. please.”

His cock pressed against your folds, but instead of pushing inside like you expected he’ll do, he clicked his tongue stopped. His hands gripped your thighs tightly before suddenly pushing them further apart and lowering his head between your legs instead.

He licked your slit that made your whole body shiver. His tongue moved slowly, deliberately, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for ages. He licked it over and over again before finally pushing his tongue deep inside you. He held you in place as he ate you out. “Ughh- mhmmm”

You gasped, your hips lifting off the table automatically as Jeonghan’s tongue pushed deep inside your core. It wasn’t gentle or romantic — it was hungry and frustrated, like he was angry that he’d been denied this pleasure for so long. You kept repeating to yourself, you don’t like this.

As you were about to reach your climax, Jeonghan suddenly pulled away, making you whimper in frustration as your fingers tightened in his hair. He looked up at you with a smirk, his face shiny with your arousal. “You’re saying please for what again?” he asked mockingly before standing up.

Jeonghan hovered over you, his fingers gently touching your folds but not moving any further. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as tears still streamed down your cheeks. He stayed like that for a moment, just staring at you intensely before finally speaking.

“Push me away now,” he whispered hoarsely, his thumb gently brushing over your clit without pressure. His self-control was slipping, seeing you like this — so vulnerable and beautiful. If you didn't push him away soon, he would lose it and fuck you right there. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

The moment your lips pressed against his, he lost all sense of reason. He kissed you back fiercely, aggressively pushing his tongue into your mouth as his hands gripped your face. His fingers immediately plunged inside you without warning, curling upwards to hit that spot that made you moan into his kiss.

You remained complaining, wanting to push him away, but your body rejected the strength. He answered Joshua’s call in the middle of him pounding in you. Who would not be scared?! “Stop complaining. I already ended the call before you even moaned,” Jeonghan murmured, thrusting into you harder as he threw your phone on the bed. “Joshua didn’t hear a thing.”

As if on cue, Jeonghan hit an especially sensitive spot inside you, making you arch your back and let out a loud, long moan. The table creaked even louder, the sound filling the room along with your moans.

“Sucks that the room is soundproof,” Jeonghan groaned, thrusting into you deeply. “I would want the whole neighbourhood to know my name” He gripped your hips tightly, making the table bounce loudly with each thrust, making dents on the wall. The position hit your G-spot perfectly with each snap of his hips. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, “Ahhh- Jeonghan! Right there.. Ahhhn”

“Is this what you want, hmm?” Jeonghan teased between thrusts, his voice low and husky. “Being kidnapped and fucked everyday by me?” He slowed his thrusts, swirling his hips to grind against your spot. Your cunt clenched tightly around him at the suggestion, making him laugh darkly.

“Damnit” He muttered, his thrusts growing quicker as your cunt tightened around him. “Your reactions are driving me crazy,” he growled, swirling his hips again to hit your sweet spot. “Do you squeeze like this when men kidnap you in your fantasies?”

Your moans turned into incoherent whimpers and cries as Jeonghan continued to tease and fuck you mercilessly. “Answer me,” he demanded, his hand reaching around to play with your clit roughly. “Do you imagine getting fucked by strangers every night?”

Both moans grew even louder and more desperate at the dirty talk, your slit squeezing him so tightly he thought his dick might get chopped off. “Fuck, you’re so tight” he groaned, imagining you having the fantasies. “You're into being forced and used, aren't you?”

“And if I say yes..?” Your heavy-lidded eyes, tear stains down your cheeks, and saliva dripping from your open mouth as you tried to form words was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. His hand slapped your clit, thumb pressing hard as he snapped “Answer me properly, sweetheart.” “UGH-! Yes.. yes”

Jeonghan smirked, his eyes darkening with lust as he reached under the drawer and pulled out a black blindfold. You immediately knew what he was planning, your eyes widening slightly as he leaned down to kiss you before placing the blindfold over your eyes.

He tightened the blindfold around your head, knowing exactly how much you hated darkness. He chuckled darkly as you immediately started to whimper and cry, your hands reaching out blindly as if searching for him. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, smirking against your lips. “You need to get used to darkness, sweetheart.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine. He knew how much this terrified you — the lack of sight, the unknown — and he was using it against you to heighten his own pleasure. His thrusts became harder and your tears came running down your cheek again.

He leaned back slightly, watching as tears streamed down your face, your body shook with sobs, having no eyesight with the blindfold covering your eyes. His cock throbbed inside you at the sight of your vulnerability. “Does this scare you?” he asked mockingly, knowing full well it did.

Jeonghan’s grip on your wrists tightened painfully as he began to fuck you in a fast pace, his hips slamming against yours with brutal force. “You’re so pathetic” he taunted, knowing his words would only make you cry harder.

He felt your body tensing up, your breath hitching as your orgasm built rapidly. Jeonghan smirked, knowing he was pushing you right to the edge. He slowed his thrusts slightly, wanting to draw out your pleasure without reaching his own climax just yet. “You coming, sweetheart?” You could only nod.

“Did I fucked you enough for you to lose your ability to speak, Y/N?” “Yes! Yes I’m coming.. I hate you- aghh”

Your orgasm hit you suddenly, your blindfolded state making everything feel more intense. You cried out loudly, your cunt clamping down around his cock as you came hard. Jeonghan groaned, loving how your terror made your orgasms even stronger, as you shake in his hold.

“Jeonghan.. jeonghan- hannie..” “Fuck” Jeonghan growled as you screamed his name over and over, completely lost in your orgasm. He growled more to the nickname that slipped your mouth. Your juices making his own release hover dangerously close. But he wasn't done with you yet.

As soon as your orgasm finished, he pulled out abruptly and flipped you onto your stomach. He lifted you easily, carrying you to the wall, pinning you against it with your face pressed into the cold surface and your ass tilted out towards him. Still completely blindfolded.

“Jeonghan..? I can’t see- AHH” Without warning, he slammed his hard cock back into your used, dripping cunt again. You screamed his name again as he began to pound into you mercilessly, your body bouncing off the wall with each brutal thrust. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him as he fucked you standing up.

Jeonghan’s groans filled the room as he lost himself in the sensation of your tight cunt wrapped around him. He became completely non-verbal, his grunts and growls the only sounds escaping his lips as he fucked you harder and faster against the wall, reaching his high as well.

Your second orgasm struck without you noticing it as Jeonghan’s teeth sank into your shoulder. You screamed his name, your slit gripping his cock tightly as he finally reached his climax, mixing his hot cum with yours deep inside your womb. Am I even safe today..? “Why..? Ugh- inside..”

Still buried deep inside you, he held your body against the wall as both of your bodies shook from the intense orgasms. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he pulsed inside you, filling you even more. The blindfold remained, keeping you disoriented and vulnerable.

Suddenly, Jeonghan pulled out slightly before slamming back in one last time, pushing his remaining cum deeper inside you. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily against your neck before slowly pulling out completely. His cum mixed with yours began leaking out slightly as he held you upright against the wall.

Without a word, he slowly slid down your body, carrying your legs over his shoulders and pinning your hips even higher on the wall. He buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately diving into your messy slit to taste the mixed cum leaking out. He pushed it back inside you with his tongue, groaning at the taste of both of you.

“Fuckin- hmmm aghh” Your moans filled the room as his tongue still inside you, your cunt clenching around the flowing liquid. His breath was heavy and ragged against your sensitive flesh as he continued to lick and suck, keeping his cum trapped deep, sending more vibrations and heat in between your legs.

After thoroughly cleaning your folds with his tongue, Jeonghan suddenly stood up and threw you to a soft mattress, you assume it’s the bed, making you shriek as you were completely unaware of what’s happening. “Jeonghan..?” The room fell silent except for the creaking of the bed as he crawled over you, his thin figure caging you in.

“Only here, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear, his face hovering just inches above yours. You could feel his breath on your skin and the weight of his body pressing down on you, but you still couldn’t see anything through the blindfold. His hands gripped your wrists above your head, pinning you down.

“Still can’t see a thing, can you?” he murmured, his hips shifting slightly. Before you could respond, he was pushing back inside your cum-filled cunt slowly, making you gasp. “Just admit, it’s making you more excited.” It is. Oh hell it is.

“Your little pussy is so messy right now.. so fucking full of my cum,” he groaned, pushing deeper until his balls slapped against your ass. “And here I am, filling it up even more.” He began to move, his length sliding in and out of your soaked folds, creating wet, sloppy noises.

“It hurts now-” You cried in overstimulation. You just came and now he’s fucking you again. “Shh, sweetheart.. just feel me,” Jeonghan whispered hoarsely as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. Your moans filled the room, “That's it- take my cock..”

“Do you feel that?” he growled, his fingers tightening around your wrists as he continued to pound into you. “Feels like your little pussy is getting even tighter” He broke off with a groan as he felt you start to clench around him, knowing exactly what was happening.

“Gonna make a fucking mess of the bed” he whispered against your ear, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic. “Go on..” He released one of your wrists to reach one of your breasts, playing at your nipple.

“Stop-” You wriggled beneath him, trying to make sense of the strong sensation in your lower belly. “Jeonghan! Sto- please” You whimpered, “I think.. I’m gonna pee- ahh! It feels like-” You tried to push him off you. “Oh my dear sweetheart.. that’s not pee. Shh.. you’re fine. Go on, my little squirter.”

Ignoring your pleas, Jeonghan continued to thrust and exchanged his fingers with his mouth on your nipple, pushing you more to reach your orgasm. “Scream my name, when you did so” he groaned, his hips bucking wildly against yours. “Squirt all over my fucking dick.”

Your body convulsed and a powerful jet of fluid gushed out of you, soaking the both of you and the bed beneath. “JEONGHAN- AGHHH UHH MHMM” You cried out in shock and embarrassment as more liquid followed the first, Jeonghan’s cock still buried deep inside you, triggering wave after wave of intense pleasure.

As your cunt continued to spasm and squirt around him, Jeonghan let out a deep groan and came hard inside you again. He kissed you fiercely as he tried to silence any sounds escaping from your mouth due to the overwhelming sensation of both of you orgasming together intensely.

Slowly pulling out of you, he carefully removed the blindfold. Your eyes fluttered open, still dilated and sensitive from the intense experience. You looked at him with a mix of post-orgasm haze and slight embarrassment, which only made him harder again. Those innocent eyes.. Fuck.

The world outside his hideout was silent again. Morning light began to creep through the cracks of the boarded windows, brushing faint gold over the floor. You were fast asleep, breath steady for the first time in days.

Jeonghan sat at the edge of the bed, shirt messy, eyes unfocused. He traced a hand through your hair and whispered something you didn’t hear. It sounded like a prayer. Across the city, Joshua’s office was alive with static. The faint buzz of the tracker Seokmin got from Joshua’s coworkers “Got it,” Seokmin said, leaning closer to the monitor. “Signal’s faint, but it’s moving again.”

Joshua straightened, the exhaustion in his eyes burning into focus. It’s been weeks of not being able to sleep “How far?” “An hour out of the city. Old industrial area,” Seokmin replied. “She must’ve turned the phone on again — or someone did.” Joshua said, completely aware who turned it on.. Jeonghan. But why? I would never understand that man.

Joshua grabbed his coat, already heading for the door. “Then we don’t wait. I’ll go, stay here, it's not safe.” Seokmin looked up. “You really think I’m not going with you? That’s my friend! My safety is not my priority right now!”

Joshua didn’t answer right away. He’s amused, those weeks of him being relentless, Seokmin didn’t leave his office, if Joshua’s determined to find you, Seokmin’s thrice. “It’s dangerous,” he said finally. “You’re putting yourself in danger” “Like I didn’t before after what you did to her six years ago.”

The static from the tracker grew louder — a slow, pulsing beat. And for the first time, it wasn’t just noise. It was a countdown. Joshua then let Seokmin ride his car.

—

The hideout was silent when Joshua and Seokmin arrived. The old warehouse loomed over the pier, half-eaten by rust and fog. Only one dim light flickered through a narrow window — a weak pulse of life inside a dead building.

Joshua raised a hand, signaling Seokmin to stay close. The heavy door creaked open with a long metallic groan. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the concrete floor as they entered, flashlights sweeping across the room. There’s another room inside, when they opened it, the room looked completely normal. Almost too normal and warm. Then they saw her.

You were there — lying on a narrow bed, wrapped in a blanket. Peaceful. Breathing evenly. Not a single mark on your skin. Seokmin froze, disbelief flashing across his face before he bolted forward. “Y/N!”

He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You’re okay.. you’re really okay.” His voice cracked. “God, I thought-” He couldn’t finish, tears spilling freely as he pressed your hand to his forehead.

Joshua stayed outside. His gun was drawn, his eyes sweeping the shadows. The silence wasn’t right. He could feel someone watching. Then, from the far corner of the room, a voice — soft, quiet, almost too calm.

“She’s safe.”

Joshua spun, gun raised, but stopped. Jeonghan stood in the doorway leading to another room, his hands slightly raised, no weapon in sight. The dim light softened the sharpness of his features — he looked exhausted, pale, and strangely at peace. “She needs rest,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Don’t wake her, just carry her back.”

“Don’t go near her,” Joshua said, keeping his aim steady. Jeonghan only smiled faintly. “You won’t need that.” His eyes flicked to the gun, then back to Joshua’s face. “If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve done it long before you got here, I thought you’re the smart one between us.”

Joshua froze. “Why.. why did you do this?” Jeonghan exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward you. “You might not remember me Shua-” “I do Han.” Now it’s Jeonghan’s time to freeze, eyes widened as he looked at Joshua again.

“You were my partner for how many years, do you really don’t have that faith in me to think I’ve forgotten about you. You quit years ago and left me all alone, thinking you died. It ate me alive Han! Guilt ate me up..” Joshua held his gun down and closed his eyes for a minute.

Jeonghan was utterly shocked, especially when Seokmin came out of the room, holding you, your arms on his shoulders, completely awake. “I’m asking you why?” Joshua repeated his question, emphasising it word by word.

“Because she’s safer now than she’s ever been. They won’t find her again. They can’t. Not after what I’ve done.” Jeonghan said, looking directly at you. Joshua frowned. “What does that mean? What bullshit are you saying this time?!”

But Jeonghan only gave him a small, tired smile — the kind that looked like surrender. “Just make sure she remembers me.. Shua.” A cold gust blew through the open doorway. When Joshua turned his head to glance at Seokmin for a second — Jeonghan was gone.

—

Your body ached, heavy, sore, every muscle complaining with every small movement. The bandages around your arm tugged when you tried to sit up. The room was familiar. A couch. Some blankets. A half-folded laundry basket in the corner. Seokmin’s place.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Seokmin said quickly, appearing from the kitchen with a steaming mug. His voice was gentle, softer than usual — the kind of tone people use when they’re afraid you might break. “You’re still recovering. Here.” He set the mug beside you, carefully adjusting the blanket over your legs. His fingers lingered for a second too long — maybe to make sure you were really there.

You gave a faint smile. “Thanks, Seok.” He nodded, avoiding your eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You scared us,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “You have no idea what it was like! This is the second time I don’t want to lose y-” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together, swallowing hard.

Before you could say anything, another voice broke the quiet. “She needs rest, Min.” Joshua stood near the doorway, his posture stiff, arms crossed. The shadows under his eyes were darker than you remembered. He looked older — worn in the way only guilt could age someone.

Seokmin glanced at him, then back at you. “I’ll get some soup ready.” He left quietly, closing the door behind him.

You sat there for a while, listening to the rain. It had been raining for weeks. As if the world couldn’t stop grieving. Joshua didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared at the floor, jaw clenched, his thoughts somewhere you couldn’t reach. Finally, you whispered, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Joshua’s head lifted slightly, though his face remained unreadable. “I know.” You studied him — the way his hand twitched at his side, the tension that never left his shoulders. “You knew him,” you said carefully. “Jeonghan.”

His silence was answer enough. “He told me.. but I don’t understand,” you continued softly. “Why did it feel like he cared? Even when he was-” You stopped, remembering the way Jeonghan’s voice trembled when he said your name. “What was he to you?”

Joshua exhaled through his nose — a slow, tired sound that carried years’ worth of ghosts. “He was my partner,” he said quietly. “Six years ago. Before everything went to hell.” You blinked. “Partner?”

“In the network,” he explained, voice low and steady. “I handled papers. He handled guns. We were.. close. Too close, maybe. Until one day, he vanished. No trace. Everyone thought he was dead. I thought he was dead.” His jaw tightened. “We were working a high-risk case at the time. I thought I lost him because of me.”

He paused, his fingers curling into a fist. “I blamed myself. Every mission after that, every failure, every death — I told myself it was because I wasn’t enough to save him.. to save you.” You hesitated, throat tightening, not fully understanding what he meant. “And me?”

Joshua finally looked up, his eyes heavy. “You were part of something bigger, long before you knew it,” he said quietly. “You’re.. part of our enemy.”

Your breath hitched. “What?” His eyes flickered — not cruel, but haunted. “You and Jeonghan.. both of you were friends. But you betrayed him.”

“Next time.. we can be more than friends,” you said, voice low and cold. You were standing on a rooftop, the wind biting through your jacket, gun raised at Jeonghan’s head. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His eyes were steady, almost peaceful.

You smirked, finger tightening on the trigger. But before you could fire, a shot rang out. Your body jerked. Pain exploded through your shoulder — burning, sharp.

You looked down. Blood. Your blood. Ahh.. so I’m the one who got shot. Jeonghan’s expression shattered. Fear. Desperation. He screamed your name — once, broken and raw — before everything went dark.

And the last thing you saw before collapsing was the man holding the gun. Jeonghan’s partner, Joshua.

Your breath hitched as the memory slammed into you. “That’s why he hated me,” Joshua murmured, voice trembling now, “because I almost killed you.” You stared at him, heart aching, the pieces finally fitting together in all the wrong ways.

“Jeonghan always believed in saving one person, even if it meant losing everything else,” Joshua continued softly. “That person was you.” The room was quiet for a long time. The rain had softened to a drizzle, the scent of soup drifting from the kitchen.

You swallowed hard. “That’s not what he told me.” Joshua’s eyes darkened. “He lied, Y/N. You survived but lost your memories. Do you really think he’d let you remember what you were supposed to do to him? He knows you better than anyone. He knew you’d run.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Joshua looked away, eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. “I helped you because I knew ever since the beginning. He’s not the same Jeonghan we used to know. I never wanted to aim the gun at you before, but I had to stop you from pulling the trigger on him.”

He drew a long breath. “I wanted you to live normally.. maybe then, my guilt wouldn’t eat me alive. But him?” His voice cracked, quiet but final.

“He’s obsessed. Too much. He changed ever since what happened and I don’t want you to be in danger again.”

You shifted your position, hugged your knees to your chest, mind spinning. “Then.. who’s ‘them’? Who is Jeonghan saving me from?” Your voice was small, tentative, but the question burned in your chest.

Joshua moved forward, sat beside you, hands clasped tightly. His gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the apartment, but the weight in his words made the room shrink around you. “I don’t know.. himself? Me?,” he said, voice low but steady. He let out a short, bitter laugh, almost hollow. “Y/N.. we dismantled your organisation years ago. After Jeonghan left, you’ve been safe. You were always safe.”

You blinked, confusion and disbelief tangling inside you. “Then why?” “I was the one who kept checking on you, in the hospital, long after Seokmin thought everything was fine,” Joshua continued, jaw tight. “I made sure someone was there if you needed me. I was the one who told Wonwoo, Seokmin’s brother, to call me, knowing you’d need protection — not from anyone else, but from him.”

His eyes finally met yours, intense and raw. “He’s not protecting you. He’s controlling you.”

The words hit you like ice. For a moment, silence filled the room. Rain tapped against the windows, soft and relentless, and the realisation began to settle: everything Jeonghan had done — every act of ‘care,’ every whispered warning — had been a cage, and you had been trapped inside it without even knowing.

“Find him.” You said that made Joshua flinch a little, not believing what you just said. You look at his eyes and repeat what you said, “find him, Joshua please. I need to talk to him.”

The door slammed behind Jeonghan with a heavy thud. Joshua’s coworkers had restrained him, forcing him into a stark, fluorescent-lit room — one of those cold, impersonal interrogation rooms that smelled faintly of bleach and authority.

Jeonghan thrashed against the cuffs, eyes blazing with fury. “Didn’t I tell you? I’d leave you all alone! Just leave me alone too?!” His voice was sharp, desperate, tinged with a dangerous edge that made the room seem smaller, hotter. Joshua stayed calm, unflinching. “I know you’ll never leave her alone,” he said quietly, almost coldly.

A smirk curved Jeonghan’s lips, dark and knowing, as he chuckled. The tension in the room thickened. He straightened, his movements deliberate, cuffed hands held behind him, and began pacing toward Joshua. “You smarty.. good shoes,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve always been.”

Joshua’s gaze remained steady, but his jaw tightened slightly. There was history there — unspoken words and old wounds — and Jeonghan could feel it like a pulse.

Then the smirk faltered. His dark eyes widened slightly as they landed on you, standing at the doorway. Time seemed to stall. Joshua stepped back, nodding briefly, giving you space.

Jeonghan froze mid-step. The sound of your quiet breathing filled the room. You crossed the floor slowly, the faintest click of your shoes on the tile echoing like a heartbeat. “Aren’t you gonna sit?” you asked softly, tilting your head, calm but pointed.

For the first time in hours, Jeonghan’s smirk wavered. He glanced at the cold chair in the corner, then back at you, as if measuring whether this moment could ever be safe or if it had already passed. “Jeonghan, sit.” And he did.

The chair scraped lightly against the floor as Jeonghan finally sat, hands cuffed behind him, the table creating a careful distance between you. Silence hung thick, heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

Finally, he broke it, voice low, hesitant. “How are you?” You didn’t answer. He leaned forward slightly, the faintest tremor betraying him. “Did Joshua hurt you? Are yo-”

“Joshua treated me better than how you did,” you cut him off, your words calm, measured. His jaw clenched, sharp lines forming on his face as he looked away, frustration and something darker simmering just beneath his skin. I need to see first if you’re gonna continue lying on my face.

I need to know if the Jeonghan before is still in you.

“Jeonghan.. can I ask?” you began, voice quiet but steady. He lifted his gaze to you, the storm in his eyes giving way to something raw. “Who am I?”

The truth spilled from him, slow and unguarded. He told you everything — why he stalked you, why he abducted you, why he did everything. He admitted it all, confessing that every action had been fueled by fear of losing you again. That he had wanted to give you a choice, to let you live without him if you wished. “Leave me alone, if you want, sweetheart.”

He is. Hannie is still there.

You let the weight of his words sink in, then surprised him with a quiet, sharp declaration “My memories.. they came back, weeks after Joshua found you.” For a moment, the room felt colder, the light harsher, his breath caught in his throat. Then, something broke in him. He leaned forward, voice trembling, tears starting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken and raw, each word heavy with guilt.

“I’m so sorry.. I’m sorry, Y/N. God.. I’m so sorry.” You stood, heart aching at the sight of him like this, and moved closer, hands lifting to cup his face. His tears kept coming, hot and unrelenting, and he didn’t stop, didn’t try to pull away. “Why are you crying?” you asked softly, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Because- because you were better off not remembering your dark past,” he choked out. “But my selfish acts.. only brought you back. I- I failed you.”

“Hey.. aren’t I supposed to be angry at Shua and not at you?” He only looked at you, with tears on his eyes. “I already forgiven Shua, Jeonghan.. you should too.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his confession pressing against your ribs. “You made me feel safe and terrified at the same time,” you murmured. “That’s what love looks like when you’ve forgotten how to be human,” he replied, voice shaking, tears spilling freely.

“Then learn again.. with me,” you whispered, leaning closer.

You pressed your palms firmly against his cheeks, searching his eyes for the boy you remembered, the man he had been — flawed, brave, obsessive, but fiercely yours. Slowly, you brought your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, a question, a bridge. Then it deepened, desperate and tender, as if to make up for all the time, all the fear, all the distance. His tears never stopped, and neither did your embrace.

In that moment, the world outside — the chase, the danger, the past — melted away. There was only him. Only you. Only the fragile, broken, beautiful thread of love that had somehow survived everything.

Even though his hands are cuffed at his back, you could feel how he never stopped the kiss and only wants to deepen it more, not wanting to feel the air if that means his lips being pulled away from yours. You laughed, softly, and pulled away, making his eyes, lingered on yours, confused and betrayed.

“I don’t think continuing this here is a good thing.”

“Why..?”

“There are cameras, Jeonghan.”

You looked at him, pressed your lips again, and repeated what you said that made him cry even more.

“There are cameras, hon.. my Hannie.”

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ If you’re reading this — thank you so much for reading!! likes and reblogs are super appreciated ❤️ I wrote this one so fast hahaha it’s funny because this plot has been stuck in my head for months already. anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!! stay tuned for the next one, kinktober’s almost ending :((

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar @minghaooswife

If you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[nightshao]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐳𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Jeon Wonwoo x f! Reader x Kim Mingyu

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ You're a top student in Professor Jeon Wonwoo’s class, but being brilliant doesn’t make you immune to distractions. Especially when one distraction is the infuriatingly perfect Kim Mingyu, your academic rival, and the other is your enigmatic, dangerous professor.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Forbidden Romance, Academic Rivals to ??, Professor x Student, Porn w/ plot, Mutual Obsession, Fluff

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 6.3k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, y/n is an adult take that in mind! sexual tension, mention of alcohol and party, oral sex (both f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), male masturbation, protected & unprotected sex, public place sex (in campus..), hickies/marking, dom! wonwoo, tease!mingyu, threesome, rough sex, mlm, voyeurism, slight-degradation, dacryphilia, click out immediately if not comfortable!

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ hellooo, this is actually my first time posting here hahaha so please don’t expect too, too much! this one’s for my friend who requested a minwon fic, and also for my other friend who introduced me to the world of tumblr fanfics 😚 thank you both for the push!! hope you guys enjoy reading!

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You hated group work. Especially in Professor Jeon Wonwoo’s AnaPhy class.

Not because of him — although his cool, unreadable face did things to your stomach that you’d never admit — but because of the fact that he always, always, paired you with Kim Mingyu. “Top students,” Professor Jeon said evenly as he laid down the stack of lab sheets, “should be able to push each other further.”

You wanted to argue. Mingyu wanted to smirk. And the rest of the class wanted to watch you both rip each other apart. Today was the musculoskeletal lab. Models of skeletons lined the benches, and half-dissected cadavers rested under white sheets on the side. The air smelled like chemicals and sterilizer, cold enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“Ms. L/N, Mr. Kim,” Professor Jeon’s low voice cut through the hum. “Identify the structures of the forearm. Correct labeling. Ten minutes.” He stood with arms crossed, glasses catching the light, his gaze sharp and expectant.

You swallowed, grabbing a marker, but Mingyu leaned in first. His broad shoulder brushed yours as he bent over the model. “Radius,” he said smoothly, sketching the line, “ulna. Distal ends here.” “Obvious,” you muttered, snatching the marker from his hand. “You didn’t even mark the styloid process. Sloppy.”

Mingyu tilted his head, grin tugging at his lips. “Careful. Your voice gets higher when you’re nervous.” You glared at him, heat climbing up your neck and noticed Professor Jeon’s eyes flick from your flushed face to the way Mingyu loomed over you. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he spoke.

“Correct her, if she’s wrong,” Wonwoo said calmly, but the edge in his tone was impossible to miss. “I would,” Mingyu drawled, leaning even closer, “if she ever was.” The marker squeaked under your hand as you labeled faster, sharper, determined to prove him wrong. Every muscle in your body was tight, every nerve lit up — not just from the rivalry, but from the way both men’s eyes seemed locked on you. One challenging, one unreadable.

When the timer beeped, you stepped back, chest heaving. Wonwoo approached silently. His presence was overwhelming up close, the faint scent of his perfume, the steady line of his throat as he looked over your work.

He traced the marker lines with a long finger. Paused at the carpal bones. Then at your messy handwriting. “Accurate,” he said finally. “But rushed.”

Your throat went dry. Mingyu smirked beside you. “Told you. Nervous.” You snapped, “At least I didn’t forget the styloid process.”

Professor Jeon’s eyes flicked between you two — sharp, assessing — before he set the sheet down. “Both of you stay after class,” he said simply. “We need to talk about focus.”

—

By the time the rest of the students filed out, your pulse was racing. Mingyu lounged against the lab bench like he owned it, stretching his long legs. You stood stiff, hands gripping your notes. Professor Jeon shut the door. The click echoed.

He turned, gaze steady, tone unreadable. “You’re brilliant students. But brilliance without discipline is wasted. If you’re too busy distracting each other-” “She’s distracting me,” Mingyu cuts in smoothly, eyes sliding over you with deliberate slowness.

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change. But the silence stretched a moment too long, thick enough to make your skin prickle. Finally, he adjusted his glasses. “Control yourselves. Or I’ll have no choice but to separate you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, like he knew separation would feel like punishment. Like he’d already seen too much.

The thing about Anatomy and Physiology was that it wasn’t just memorization. It was endless hours of tracing nerves, muscles, vessels, all of them winding through the body like maps you had to learn by heart. You hated that Mingyu always seemed one step ahead at all classes. He breezed through diagrams, scribbled answers in perfect handwriting, and then leaned back in his chair like it was nothing.

But after the lab incident, Professor Jeon’s words wouldn’t leave your head. Brilliance without discipline is wasted. So you did something you swore you wouldn’t: you booked an appointment during his office hours.

His office smelled faintly of coffee and the faint tang of old books. Dim afternoon light cut across the shelves stacked with models of the human skeleton, diagrams pinned neatly to corkboards. “Miss L/N,” Professor Jeon said when you slipped inside. His voice was calm, even, but his eyes lifted from his papers with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “What can I help you with?”

You swallowed. “The brachial plexus. I.. keep mixing up the branches.” A faint twitch of his lips. Not quite a smile. “Common mistake.” He stood, a tall frame unfolding with unhurried grace. “Sit.” You perched on the edge of the chair by his desk, heart hammering. He pulled a diagram from the shelf, leaning over you as he set it down. His sleeve brushed your arm.

Focus, you told yourself.

His finger traced the thick nerves branching down the arm. “Roots. Trunks. Divisions. Cords. Branches,” he murmured, voice low, deliberate. “Say it back.” You repeated it, stumbling once. His eyes flicked to yours, sharp, then softened, just slightly. “Good,” he said quietly. “Better.”

The room felt too warm. His presence was overwhelming: the subtle perfume, the steady tempo of his voice, the heat radiating from where he stood so close.

“Professor” you started, but your throat closed. “Yes?”

Your gaze caught on the line of his throat, the adam’s apple, the faint shadow of his jaw. You tore your eyes away, pulse racing. “Nothing.” For a heartbeat, silence. “You need to stop letting Kim Mingyu get under your skin,” he said, tone measured. “He distracts you.”

You bristled. “He doesn’t distract me.” His eyebrow lifted, skepticism etched in every line of his face. She’s distracting me. Mingyu’s voice from the lab replayed in your head, and you flushed hot. Wonwoo’s jaw flexed. He leaned in closer, one hand braced on the chair arm beside you, lowering his voice.

“Then why are you blushing now?” Your breath caught.

For a long, unbearable moment, the only sound was your pulse pounding in your ears. His eyes lingered on your lips, your throat, back up to your eyes — before he suddenly straightened, dragging in a sharp breath.

“Review the chart again,” he said curtly, stepping back. His voice was steady, but his hand curled tight into a fist at his side. You bent over the page, scribbling nonsense just to hide your shaking hands.

This is wrong.

Wonwoo knew it the moment he leaned down, the moment her scent hit him, warm and distracting in a way no student ever should be. The way her voice caught. The way her pulse jumped in her throat when he challenged her.

He should’ve stepped back immediately. Should’ve drawn the line.

But her lips had parted like she was about to say something else — something dangerous — and for one terrifying, exhilarating second, he wanted to hear it. He forced himself to breathe, to pull away, to pretend like his body wasn’t wound tight with restraint.

This can’t happen, he told himself. Not with her. Not with any of my students.

And yet, when she left his office that evening, the image of her flushed face haunted him long.

—

The cafeteria was loud that afternoon, chatter echoing between the steel counters and clatter of trays. But you barely heard any of it, staring down at your untouched food, replaying the moment in Wonwoo’s office like a broken tape.

“Are you sick or just dramatically fasting?” Seokmin’s voice jolted you back to reality. He dropped his tray beside yours with his usual sunshine grin, already digging into his rice. You forced a laugh. “Neither.”

He squinted at you, leaning his chin on his hand. “You’re acting weird, Y/N. Don’t tell me Kim Mingyu’s finally gotten under your skin. The guy doesn’t shut up about how smarty-pants he is” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not about him”

“Mm-hm.” Seokmin dragged out the sound, clearly not convinced. “Then why did you nearly stab your notebook with your pen during lecture? And why do you look like someone just stole your favourite chair?” Heat crept up your neck. If only he knew. Not Mingyu. Not really.

You picked at your food, hoping he’d drop it, but of course Seokmin didn’t. “Hey, you know I don’t mind your competition thing with Mingyu. It’s fun watching you two bicker like an old married couple.” You choked on air. “We are not-” “I said like,” he cut in, grinning. “Relax. I’m just saying, maybe you’re too focused on proving yourself against him. You’re burning yourself out.”

The words hit a little too close. Seokmin thought it was about Mingyu. He couldn’t possibly know it was about the way Professor Jeon leaned in too close, the way his voice had dropped, the way your pulse had betrayed you. “I’ll be fine,” you said, quieter than intended.

Seokmin studied you for a second, his easy smile softening. Then he reached over and stole one of your fries. “Good. But seriously, if you pass out mid-class, I’m not carrying you. I’ll just tell our Professors you donated your body to science early.”

“Seokmin!” He cackled, and despite yourself, you laughed too. But when his voice blended back into the cafeteria noise, your mind slipped away again. To a pair of glasses catching the light. To a voice that still echoed in your head.

You’d like to believe you were good at ignoring distractions. It’s what got you this far, after all, top two in the program, unyielding in your focus, sharp enough to match Kim Mingyu blow for blow when it came to grades. But Professor Jeon Wonwoo was proving to be a distraction of an entirely different kind.

His class was supposed to be simple: absorb, study, ace. Instead, every lecture seemed to turn into a battlefield against your own impulses. The way he leaned against the desk with rolled-up sleeves, veins mapped across his forearms as he gestured toward the skeletal model. The way his voice dipped low when he explained muscle groups, like a secret meant for you alone. The way his eyes sometimes — just sometimes — lingered too long when you answered correctly.

Today was no different.

“Good,” Wonwoo said as you closed your notebook after reciting the correct origin and insertion of a muscle group he’d thrown at you without warning. There was the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth, something that could almost be called a smile if it weren’t so restrained.

“Thank you, professor,” you replied, trying not to sound breathless when really, the heat at the back of your neck betrayed you. You didn’t catch it, but Wonwoo did: the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed, the way your hands fidgeted with your pen as if to tether yourself to composure.

Control yourself, he told himself sternly, masking it behind the click of his pen as he moved to the next student. She’s your student. That’s the line. And yet his gaze kept pulling back to you like iron filings to a magnet.

The class ended, and Mingyu was quick to stride up beside you, all tall limbs and irritating charm. “Going for the top one this semester too, Y/N?” His smirk was all teeth, sharp and provoking. “As if you’ll give me a chance,” you shot back. It was familiar banter you’d grown accustomed to.

But the weight of another gaze trailed after you as you slung your bag over your shoulder and left the room. Wonwoo’s.

—

That was how you ended up here. Alone.

You’d forgotten a folder in the classroom and when you slipped back inside, the room was already dark except for the pale wash of the desk lamp over his notes. Wonwoo didn’t look surprised to see you; if anything, he looked expectant. “You left something?” His voice was quiet, low.

“Yeah,” you muttered, crossing the rows to your desk. You grabbed the folder, hugged it to your chest. You should have left. You really, really should have left. Instead, you hovered. “Professor.. do you ever get tired of holding back?”

It slipped out before you could stop it. Maybe you meant academically. Maybe you didn’t. Wonwoo set his pen down with deliberate care, fingers folding together as he leaned back in his chair. For a long moment, silence thickened between you, the kind that thrummed in your chest and made your knees weak.

“Y/N,” he said finally, your name almost a warning, almost a plea. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” “Don’t I?” you whispered.

Her eyes pinned Wonwoo in place. Wide, daring, a little reckless. He saw that look before, in competitions, in the rare students who wanted to test how far they could go. But this wasn’t about academics. This was hunger, simmering at the edge of propriety.

He should have shut it down. He should have told her to leave. Instead, Wonwoo stood.

The space between you dissolved in two strides. His hand caught your wrist, not rough, but enough to stop you from retreating. Your breath caught, heart ricocheting against your ribs. “This is dangerous,” he murmured. “Then stop,” you challenged.

But he didn’t.

His mouth found yours with a restraint so frayed it hurt. You gasped against him, folder slipping from your arms and thudding to the floor as his other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face just right so he could drink from you deeper. The taste of him was maddening — clean, warm, edged with the faint bitterness of coffee.

Your back met the desk before you realised he’d walked you there. Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of you cared. His hands framed your waist, not wandering yet, but holding you there like he was terrified you might vanish if he let go. “Say it,” he rasped against your lips. “Say you want this.”

“I want this,” you breathed, nails curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I want you.”

—

Clothes were tugged, shifted, discarded in messy haste. The cool air of the classroom prickled your skin as he lifted you onto the desk, pushing your skirt higher, pressing his hips between your thighs like it was the only place he belonged.

His mouth broke from yours only long enough to trail down the line of your throat, teeth grazing, tongue soothing, as though he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or ruin you. “Wonwoo-” your voice hitched as his hand slid down, knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh.

He hissed through his teeth. “Fuck. You’re wet” He cut himself off, forehead pressing against yours as if grounding himself. “I really shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, almost too low to hear, fishing into his bag like a man possessed.”Shouldn’t but you could..” A foil packet glinted in the lamplight in his hands.

Then he was back, pressing against you, sheathed now, heavy and hot where you ached most. “Last chance,” he warned, though his hands trembled against your waist.

“Don’t stop,” you begged.

—

When he finally pushed into you, the air tore from your lungs. It was too much and not enough all at once, the stretch making your nails claw at his shoulders through his shirt. Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, a groan dragged from deep in his chest as he buried himself to you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he cursed, voice breaking. “You feel- god, you feel so good.”

He set a rhythm, measured at first, controlled, like every other aspect of him. But the more you moaned his name, the more your legs trembled around his waist, the more his restraint disappear. His hips slammed harder, his breath grew ragged against your ear.

Every thrust rattled the desk beneath you, papers crumpling under your grip. Every snap of his hips pulled broken moans from your throat, the kind you’d never let anyone else hear. “You drive me insane,” Wonwoo ground out, teeth scraping your shoulder. “Do you know how hard I’ve tried.. how long have I held back?” You kissed him desperately, swallowing his groans, answering with your own: “Then don’t hold back anymore.”

That was it.. the last thread snapping.

Her words unmade him. Every ounce of discipline Wonwoo built, every wall, every reminder that she was off-limits, it all crumbled. She was beneath him, around him, clinging to him like he was the only man in the world, and for once, he let himself believe it.

“Shit Y/N” Wonwoo’s voice cracked as he pound into her, faster now, lost in the heat, in the way she clenched around him like she never wanted to let go.

He was done for. And he didn’t care.

—

Your release tore through you with a cry, body arching into him, nails dragging down his back as you shattered. He followed right after, groaning your name like a prayer, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom. The silence after was deafening. Only your gasps filled the air, the lamp still burning over the mess of notes and papers.

Wonwoo braced himself on his forearms, forehead resting against yours. His breath shook. “This never happened,” he whispered, though his lips brushed yours like he couldn’t stop. But the way his eyes softened, the way his hand lingered at your cheek, said the opposite.

This had happened.

And it was only the beginning.

Seokmin had to drag you out of your dorm. Literally. “Y/N, come on,” he groaned, tugging at your wrist while you clutched your review notes like a lifeline. “It’s Chan’s birthday. The man only turns 21 once.” “I have readings,” you protested weakly, heels digging into the hallway floor.

“You also have eye bags deeper than the Mariana Trench,” he shot back, giving you one of his grins. “Besides, it’s not just our block. Everyone’s going. Business people, engineering people, even some from other unis. You need to socialise for once in your life.”

You gave him your sharpest glare. “I socialise.” Seokmin raised an eyebrow. “With cadavers?” That earned him a smack to the arm, but you didn’t resist when he tugged you toward the waiting Grab outside.

—

The ‘party’ turned out to be less of a party, more chaotic house invasion. Chan’s rooftop space throbbed with bass, neon lights flickered across sweaty bodies, and the air was thick with a mix of cheap vodka and perfume. You’d barely stepped in before someone shoved a red cup into your hand.

“Y/N!” Chan himself appeared, flushed and grinning, arms thrown wide. “You came!” “Against my will,” you muttered, but he just laughed and pulled you into a hug that reeked of tequila. Seokmin had already melted into the crowd, chatting with practically everyone in sight. That left you by the drink table, scanning the room, when your stomach dropped.

Kim Mingyu.

Of course he was here. Tall, unfairly handsome even under neon lights, shirt unbuttoned just enough to make you furious. And worse — he wasn’t alone.

Some girl from another department was pressed against him, his mouth hot on hers, their bodies flush like they’d done this a hundred times. The sight shouldn’t have burned. But it did. You looked away so fast you almost spilled your drink. “Rough view, huh?” a voice said beside you.

You turned to see someone else from your block — Minghao, grinning knowingly as he leaned against the table. “Don’t take it personally. Mingyu flirts with everything that breathes.” “I don’t care,” you lied instantly.

Minghao’s grin widened. “Sure.” He lifted his cup in salute before disappearing back into the crowd. You drained half your drink in one gulp.

Somewhere between Chan trying to dance on a table and Seungkwan shoving karaoke mics into people’s hands, you found yourself loosening up. Laughing even. Your cheeks warm with alcohol and neon light. But every time you caught sight of Mingyu across the room — talking to people in a very flirtatious way — you felt that same sting.

And worse: every time you blinked, you remembered Wonwoo’s mouth on yours, the way his voice broke when he moaned your name. Between the two, you didn’t know which distraction was going to ruin you first.

—

The thing about parties was that Mingyu knew exactly how to play them. Smile easy. Laugh loud. Let the girls or guys line up, let the drinks keep flowing. He didn’t have to think too hard when someone leaned in for a kiss — muscle memory at this point. But tonight, something tugged at him. He felt it the moment she walked in.

Y/N. Dragged in by Seokmin, looking like she’d rather dissect another cadaver than stand under neon lights. Still, even in the chaos — the music, the bodies, the heat — Mingyu’s gaze locked on her like gravity.

She looked different here. Out of place, sure, but also, soft. The harsh focus she always wore in the lab was gone, replaced with wide eyes scanning the crowd, lips pressed in irritation as she clutched her drink. Mingyu’s mouth curved automatically. Even pissed off, she made his chest do that annoying thing.

He kissed the girl in front of him harder, just to shut it up. But when he opened his eyes mid-kiss, they betrayed him — sliding past the girl’s face, straight to Y/N by the drink table. She was staring. Just for a second. And then she looked away so fast he almost laughed.

He should’ve turned back to the girl, should’ve drowned himself in distraction, but he couldn’t stop stealing glances. Every time Y/N shifted, every time her hair caught the neon glow, his focus wavered.

You tried to focus on the textbook, tried to make your pen move along the lines of notes you were supposed to take, but your thoughts betrayed you. Every time Wonwoo passed by the desk, even just to adjust a projector or collect some papers, your chest clenched. It wasn’t just attraction, it was that mix of danger and fascination that made your stomach twist in knots.

He leaned over slightly to adjust the angle of your screen, and you caught a whiff of his perfume — something warm and musky that made your knees weaken without warning. Your eyes flicked to his, catching the way his jaw tensed, the way his dark eyes softened just a fraction when they landed on you. You swallowed hard, realising just how aware he was of your attention.

You shook your head subtly, trying to shove the thoughts away. The memory in the lecture room a week ago. He’s your professor, keep it professional. But the way he hovered near you, the way his fingers brushed against yours when handing over a pen or a sheet of paper.. it wasn’t accidental. You were painfully aware of it. Every movement he made seemed designed to drive you closer to the edge of something you weren’t ready to name.

You tried to focus on the notes again, but your pen felt heavy in your hand. Your body hummed with tension, a subtle heat pooling between your thighs that you couldn’t ignore. And all the while, Wonwoo’s gaze followed you. Not leering , not entirely, but there was something there, something that told you he was aware of what he was doing to you, and perhaps, what you were doing to him.

He straightened, moving back to the front of the classroom, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. But the look he gave you as he passed — slow, deliberate, lingering — was enough to make you ache. He’s playing with me, you thought, the frustration coiling in your stomach. And you’re letting him.

By the end of the lecture, your notes were half-finished. Your mind was full of flashes of him, how his shirt clung to his shoulders, his necktie and glasses, the subtle way he crossed his legs, the low tone of his voice when he corrected another student. You wanted to tell yourself it was harmless. You wanted to tell yourself that this was just tension, just something passing. But you knew it wasn’t.

—

Mingyu watched from the other side of the room, pretending to focus on the lecture notes that seemed to blur together. But his attention wasn’t on the words, it never had been. It was on you. Always on you.

He noticed how your fingers lingered on your pen, how your eyes darted up to Wonwoo every few seconds. And he noticed Wonwoo noticing. The way the professor leaned slightly closer when explaining something to you, the way his gaze softened, even when he tried to hide it. Mingyu felt a sharp pang of something he didn’t quite want to name.

He leaned back in his chair, keeping his voice low as he muttered notes to himself. He couldn’t let Wonwoo see the way he was burning up inside. Not here, not now. But the sight of you like this — so aware of every subtle touch, so caught in the pull between them — made Mingyu’s body tense. He could imagine what it would be like to step closer, to take you from both the tension and the restraint that seemed to suffocate you.

And he would. Soon. He would make sure you knew, make sure you felt what he was feeling. Mingyu let his eyes trace the curve of your jaw, the gentle slope of your neck, and the way your hair fell perfectly against your shoulders. His fingers itched to touch you, to prove that he wasn’t just watching, that he wasn’t going to stay silent while Wonwoo toyed with your attention.

You’re mine, he thought quietly, his chest tightening. And he doesn’t even know it yet.

Mingyu shifted slightly in his seat, pretending to adjust his notebook, but his gaze never left you. Every small laugh, every subtle sigh, every glance at Wonwoo only stoked the fire inside him. The professor may have the control, the authority, the deliberate composure — but Mingyu had patience, and he had desire. And he was counting down the moments until the lecture ended, until he could have you to himself, even if it was only in his mind for now.

The tension between the three of you crackled like static electricity, silent yet screaming in the back of Mingyu’s head. He didn’t need to see what was going to happen next to know that when it did, nothing would be the same.

—

It didn’t happen all at once. At least, that’s what Wonwoo kept telling himself. It wasn’t the first day of class, when he stood at the front of the lecture hall, glasses reflecting the light while he rattled off-course expectations. He barely glanced at students then — just names, faces, scattered impressions.

But then there was you.

You were sharp. Too sharp, maybe. The way you answered his questions with barely a pause, the way your pen scrawled across the page like you were racing against time. He should’ve filed it away under top student material. That was all it was supposed to be.

And then came the lab. The first time he saw you standing beside Kim Mingyu, shoulders tense, chin lifted like you had something to prove — that was when the first crack in his composure formed. It wasn’t just how you sparred with Mingyu, not just how you refused to be overshadowed. It was the fire in your eyes. Determined. Stubborn. Alive.

That look had nothing to do with the course he teaches. And everything to do with the kind of hunger Wonwoo had spent years teaching himself to silence.

He told himself it was admiration for your discipline. He told himself it was frustration at your recklessness. He told himself a lot of things. But the truth slipped in moments he couldn’t control.

Like when your hand brushed his as you passed a paper forward, and his pulse kicked up, traitorous. Like when you stumbled on a complex term, lips parting, and he wanted to trace the sound of it straight from your mouth. Like when you furrowed your brows in concentration, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and he imagined — for just one fractured second — what it might taste like.

He tried to rationalise it. Tried to bury it. Students came and went every semester. This was just another test of restraint. But restraint was never harder than when he caught you looking back.

The first time your gaze lingered too long after answering correctly, his chest tightened in a way he couldn’t disguise. He adjusted his glasses, lowered his tone, anything to redirect — but the damage was done. You saw him. Not the professor. Not the untouchable authority figure. Him.

And once that happened, he couldn’t unfeel it.

It wasn’t sudden. It was worse than that. It was gradual, inevitable — a slow suffocation. Every day you walked into his lecture hall, Wonwoo felt it tighten around him. Every laugh you tried to hold back, every flush on your cheeks, every defiant challenge against Mingyu, it all pulled him deeper.

And now, he knew. This wasn’t admiration. It wasn't a curiosity. It was a want. A need. Raw. Unforgiving. Dangerous. And the most terrifying part was how much he didn’t want to stop it anymore.

The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the blinds of Professor Jeon Wonwoo’s office. His desk was neat, papers stacked in precise piles. But the stillness broke with his voice.

Y/N. I need you to go to my office. The words replayed in your mind as you stood before him now, heat crawling up your neck. You knew it wasn’t about grades, not with the way he was looking at you, that quiet hunger in his dark eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses.

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, legs crossed casually, arms resting on the armrest. He looked every inch the professor — until he uncrossed his legs, stood, and closed the door with a deliberate click. The silence felt thick, charged. You swallowed hard.

“Professor, I-” “Take it off.” His voice was firm, leaving no space for argument. “Wonwoo..” He stepped closer, towering over you, eyes narrowing slightly. “No. Not today. I’m your professor. Show some respect.” His breath brushed against your ear, making your knees tremble.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, the crisp fabric falling away from your shoulders as he watched, unblinking. When it hit the floor, his lips finally touched yours — hungry, claiming, his hand sliding behind your neck to pull you in deeper. His glasses pressed against your cheek for a moment before he broke the kiss, slipping them off with one hand, setting them aside on his desk. The moment he removed them, his gaze turned darker, less restrained.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful undone for me,” he murmured, his hands roaming your waist, tugging your skirt up. He pushed you back until you were against his desk, lips trailing down your throat, biting just enough to make you gasp. “Professor..” your voice broke into a whimper, thighs already parting for him.

His mouth curved in a smirk as he sank to his knees, sliding your panties down and tossing them carelessly aside. The first drag of his tongue across your folds made your head tip back, a shaky moan escaping before you could stop it. “Taste so sweet” he muttered against you, his deep voice vibrating against your clit. “Your body’s betraying how much you want me.”

Your hands grabbed at the desk’s edge, knuckles white as he licked deeper, sucking your clit until your legs shook. “Ah- Professor, please” Wonwoo looked up, mouth glistening. “Don’t hide your moans. I want to hear who’s making you feel good.” Then his lips sealed back around you, devouring you like a lesson he intended to master.

Your cries filled the office, high-pitched and desperate, until your orgasm crashed through you, thighs trembling around his head. He licked you through it, only stopping when you slumped weakly against the desk.

But there was no rest. Wonwoo stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glinting. He unzipped his slacks, pulling himself free, thick and hard, precum glistening at the tip. “On your knees.”

You obeyed instantly, sinking to the floor, fingers wrapping around him. He was heavy in your hand, the scent of him dizzying. Opening your mouth, you took him in slowly, tongue swirling around the head. “Good girl,” he rasped, his hand sliding into your hair, guiding your pace. Each thrust hit deeper until your throat spasmed, tears pricking your eyes. Spit dribbled down your chin, soaking your chest.

“Fuck” Wonwoo groaned, head tipping back. But then, his gaze flicked up — past your head, toward the slightly ajar door. A slow, deliberate smirk curved his lips. “Looks like your rival wants to join.” Your brows knitted, confused, until you turned slightly and your stomach dropped.

Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, frozen. His eyes blazed with jealousy as he stared at you on your knees, Wonwoo’s cock sliding between your lips. “Mingyu,” Wonwoo called smoothly, still fucking your mouth. He locked eyes with him. “Don’t just stand there. Come in.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. But the jealousy twisting in his chest was poisoned with temptation. With a curse under his breath, he stepped in, closing the door behind him.

You moaned around Wonwoo’s cock as Mingyu approached, towering over you. His arousal was obvious, straining against his pants. Wonwoo chuckled darkly. “Jealous, aren’t you?” Mingyu’s glare didn’t waver. “Move over, Wonwoo. She’s not just yours.”

A thrill of fear and heat shot through you. Your body was already trembling when Mingyu unbuckled his belt, pulling himself free. He was just as hard, precum beading at the tip. Wonwoo’s longer but Mingyu’s thicker. Wonwoo pulled out of your mouth, stroking himself leisurely as he watched. “Open up, pretty”

You whimpered, overwhelmed, but parted your lips anyway as Mingyu pressed his cock against them. “You can take us both, right, you slut?” Mingyu growled, pushing in. His hand gripped your hair tight as you gagged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wonwoo stepped behind you, pushing your skirt up and bending you over the desk. The stretch of his cock pushing inside made you cry out around Mingyu’s length, your throat stuffed full. “Look at that,” Wonwoo groaned, thrusting deep. “Two of us using you and you’re dripping. Your body was made for this.”

Mingyu hissed, hips slamming forward as he fucked your mouth, spit and precum spilling down your chin. “She feels so fucking good. What a tight little throat you have.”

You were crying now, eyes wet, but the arousal flooding your body only grew. The pain blurred into pleasure. Wonwoo leaned over you, his voice rough in your ear. “Pay attention, Y/N. This is AnaPhy in action. Two lengths stretching you, blood rushing, hormones flooding your brain. That wetness? Arousal response. Your body is begging for more.”

“Stop talking.. fuck!” Mingyu groaned, tugging your hair back so he could watch your tear-streaked face. Wonwoo smirked against your skin. “Don’t tell me you’re not learning, too, Mr. Kim.” Mingyu’s only answer was a rough thrust into your throat, making you gag around him.

The desk shook beneath you as Wonwoo’s pace grew harsher, fucking you deep, while Mingyu used your mouth mercilessly. Your body burned, stretched and filled, pleasure overwhelming. When Wonwoo slowed, his grip bruising your hips, his next words made you choke. “You can take us both in one hole, can’t you?”

Mingyu pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, chest heaving. “Fuck yes. Let’s ruin her together.” Wonwoo sat down and lifted you onto his lap, spreading your trembling thighs wide. Mingyu positioned himself at your back, his cock pressing against your entrance alongside Wonwoo’s.

“No, it won’t fit-” you whimpered, panicked and aroused, but they didn’t let you finish. “Shh,” Wonwoo soothed, kissing your temple even as he smirked. “You’ll stretch. You can handle us. Breathe, pretty.” “Relax for us,” Mingyu added, voice rough.

The first push was agony — two cocks forcing their way in at once. You cried out, tears spilling, nails clawing at the desk. “Shit- she’s so tight,” Mingyu cursed, sweat beading his forehead. “Are you okay?” Mingyu caressed your face, Wonwoo gritted his teeth, groaning as he pushed deeper. “She’s taking us so well, look at that. Our slut’s perfect body stretches to fit two cocks.”

The pain melted slowly, replaced by blinding pleasure as they began to move, thrusting in tandem, filling you completely. Your screams echoed off the walls, mixed with their groans. “Professor-ahh, please, I can’t”

“You can,” Wonwoo groaned, slamming deeper. “You’ll take every inch.” “You love this, don’t you?” Mingyu panted, kissing your jaw roughly. “Being used by both of us.” Your only answer was a broken sob of pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you, body convulsing violently. “you’re squeezing so hard,” Mingyu groaned.

Wonwoo’s pace grew erratic, his voice strained. His words broke off into a guttural groan. Mingyu cursed, slamming into you harder. “I’m gonna come” Wonwoo leaned down, biting your shoulder, and with one final thrust, you felt both men release inside you, hot and deep, their groans filling the office as your body clenched them desperately.

The world spun, your body trembling, tears streaking your face, cum dripping down your thighs when they finally pulled out. Mingyu collapsed back on the couch, chest heaving. Wonwoo tucked himself back in, adjusting his shirt, his composure returning almost eerily fast.

But when his eyes met Mingyu’s, there was no surprise — just familiarity. An unspoken understanding lingered between them. As you struggled to steady your breathing, the realisation struck you: this wasn’t just about you. There was something deeper threading between the two, something hidden that you hadn’t unraveled yet. And whatever it was, you were caught in the middle, whether you wanted to be or not.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ hope you enjoyed that one 😋 this entire tumblr thing is making me dizzy btw. reblogs and likes are appreciated a lot, thank you for reading!!

[ver8ho]

OH MY GOD?!?!??

[jeonghney]

JEONGHAN - 24H (200826)

[cheers-to-you-th]

Waterloo

Part 2 to Winner Takes it All

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: Smut, humor, fluff Warnings: SMUT (MDNI), seft-doubt, idiocy, self indulgent nerdiness, STAR WARS EP 111, IV AND V SPOILERS, fingering, oral (f!receiving), raw (do not irl yall no dick is worth it), lmk if i forgot smthg Word count: 14.7k

Summary: Finally, he's yours. The game is over, and maybe you lost, but it feels like a win.

or

First dates, first kisses, first times w/Mingyu

tyty @supi-wupi @flowerwonu for betaing and fixing all my mistakes on such short notice, y'all are the best ily

It’s not like anything changes overnight. You don’t kiss in the café, don’t run into each other’s arms like the end of a movie. It’s slower than that—gentler. But somehow, it feels exactly right.

So when Mingyu texts you a few days later—“Picnic date?”—your stomach flips, but you don’t hesitate.

You just say yes.

The sun is out, the sky obnoxiously blue, and you’re sweating through your sundress—not because it’s hot, but because Mingyu just texted “I’m already here :)” five minutes before you even left the house.

You speed-walk to the park like you’re being timed for an Olympic marathon, clutching a paper bag of cookies you made last night in a panic (One batch is slightly burned. You brought them anyway).

When you spot him sitting on a checkered blanket under a tree, your stomach does a backflip, twisting even further when he looks up as you approach, grinning like he’s holding back from smiling too hard.

“Hey.” His voice is deep, smooth, and perfect as always, but it wavers slightly.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly forgetting how to use your legs as you sit down a bit too fast, almost toppling over sideways onto the blanket.

Mingyu blink, “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, cheeks already burning as you smooth out your dress.

He grins and holds up a cute weaved basket. “I brought sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres, although one of them is slightly lopsided since I panicked halfway through making it.”

You can’t help but laugh at the contrast of the dishes as you raise your own paper bag. “Perfect, I brought slightly burnt cookies for the same reason.”

“Great,” he says, “we’re thriving.”

You eat in mostly silence, with a few awkward giggles when you both reach for the same juice box (he insisted on bringing them) or when a piece of lettuce escapes your sandwich and lands dramatically on your lap.

At some point, Mingyu finally breaks the silence, simply saying, “So…” before trailing off and staring so intensely at the sky that it looks like he’s trying to astral project.

“So.” You respond, cookie halfway in your mouth.

He glances at you, then quickly looks back up at the sky, “I, uh,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck, “I almost wore a button-up for this. Like a real shirt, collar and all.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What stopped you?”

He shrugs. “I spilled coffee on it this morning, but it felt like a sign. Like ‘hey, maybe don’t try to impress the girl who already knows you panic-text giant paragraphs at midnight.” 

He glances at your outfit, making you feel oddly exposed, “Kinda regret not wearing it now, since you’re…” His voice trails off as his eyes linger.

Your heart does a little hop. “I like this shirt better anyways.”

He glances at you sideways. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to be very interested in the juice box straw, “It's very… you. I like that. You.” You immediately regret saying it and look away, cheeks flushing.

Fuck, this is awkward.

Mingyu huffs out a small laugh, the kind that makes his nose crinkle adorably, then you both fall quiet. It’s not uncomfortable, just soft. Like neither of you quite know what to say now that feelings are out in the open and there’s no yelling or dramatic exits involved.

A very loud bird chooses that exact moment to chirp from a nearby branch. Mingyu jumps about three feet in the air, prompting you to laugh your ass off.

The silence settles again as you eat, this time more relaxed as you look at each other with warmth, familiarity.

Your hands brush as you both reach for the last cookie. You freeze. So does he.

Then, without looking at you, Mingyu quietly says, “I’ll split it with you.” You peek at him, mildly delighted to find his ears tainted red.

“Okay,” you say, voice a little too high. “Yeah. Cool. Sharing. Cool.”

He breaks it clean in half (which feels like some kind of divine sight—no crumbs, no crumbling chaos. Are you looking too deep into it? Probably.) and hands you a piece without meeting your eyes.

You expect to eat in the same silence as before, but Mingyu surprises you when, out of nowhere, he blurts, “I wanted to hold your hand earlier, but I got scared and touched a sandwich instead.”

You choke on your cookie.

“I mean—I didn’t touch the sandwich because I thought it was your hand—I just—”

You giggle, covering your mouth. “Gyu, are you okay?”

“No,” he says, wide-eyed, although his gaze softens at the nickname. “Absolutely not. God knows I don’t know what I’m doing, Fuck.” He groans, leaning his head on your shoulder like he used to before tensing at the realization of his casual display of affection. You chuckle softly and thread your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp (and trying to ignore your racing heart).

“Me neither, but… I’m having a good time.” You whisper the last part like it's a secret meant only for him, heart feeling lighter than it ever has.

He lifts his head to look at you, eyes vulnerable as they search yours. Then he beams. Not a grin, not a smirk, a full, sun-breaking-through-the-clouds kind of smile that makes you smile back because how could you not.

“Me too,” he says as your hand falls from his head.

You can’t help but smile brighter, nerves finally bubbling over and turning into laughter. “That was cheesy.”

“You want cheesy?” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he digs through his cooler bag.

You laugh harder as he offers you a mini Babybel, accepting it like it’s a rare and priceless gift and actively pretending he doesn’t look at you like you hung the stars in the sky whenever you laugh.

And just like that, the nerves start to fade. Not completely, but enough for you to lean into his side, sighing contently. He stiffens for half a second before melting, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. His shoulder fits under your head like it’s meant to be there, you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

A little fast, just like yours, but calming nonetheless.

You both watch the leaves above sway in the breeze, the occasional bark of a dog or hum of a bike wheel floating by in the distance. But none of it touches the moment.

You study his face in the warm light, trying to memorize this version of him—the gentle one, with cookie crumbs on his shirt and emotions blooming behind his eyes. To you, the moment is perfect. It's not fireworks or grand declarations, it's softer. Safer. Something that wraps around your ribs and makes you feel steady for the first time in a long while.

He clears his throat. “Can I try again?”

You blink, confused. “Try what?”

“Touching your hand, on purpose this time.”

Before you can think, you respond. “You can touch me anywhere you want.”

There's a beat of silence.

You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to—”

Mingyu stares at you for a long second.

And then he laughs. Not a polite chuckle, not a nervous titter. An eyes crinkled, hand over his stomach, doubled over, full-body laugh. And you—well you’re dying. You look at him, mortified.

“I didn’t mean that.” You mutter through your fingers. “I didn’t mean that.” 

Mingyu gasps through his laugh. “You can’t just say stuff like that mid-cookie!”

“I panicked!”

You duck your head, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you, or at least rewind the last ten seconds. But when you peek up at him, he’s looking at you. Not mocking, not teasing, just looking. Glowing. Like your chaos is his favorite thing in the world.

“I missed this,” he says, catching his breath. “You. Your mouth. The weird filterless thoughts that come out of it.”

“I should be admitted to a ward.” You mumble.

“No,” he says, more serious now. “Don’t.” 

You look at him. “Don’t change. I know you’re joking, but don’t change.” He squeezes your hand. “I like this. Us. Even when you make sex jokes at inappropriate times.”

You look at him, “Especially then?”

He snorts and pats your head. “Sure, especially then.”

You roll your eyes, but the tension that’s been coiled in your chest since he first texted finally loosens.

You lean back on one arm, fingers still laced with his. The sun is warm, the leaves above rustling like background music, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels… okay. More than okay.

Comfortable.

You study him out of the corner of your eye, the way he’s watching you. Soft, kind and steady. Not amused. Not smug, Just open. Willing.

You sit there for a while longer, sharing silence like it's something sacred, like neither of you want to move, in case it breaks whatever spell you’re under.

But eventually, Mingyu shifts beside you, nudging your knee gently with his. “So… hear me out.”

You look at him, wary. “That’s never a good start.”

He smirks, chuckling. “There's a photo booth down the street, the kind that's black and white and makes you look vaguely haunted.”

“That's your pitch?” You snort.

“I just think,” he starts with a grin, “that we should commemorate our first date with haunted Victorian ghost photos.”

You huff a laugh, “That's… very on brand for us, actually.”

“Right?” He’s already starting to pack up the cooler. “One weirdly burnt cookie and a neat sexual harassment lawsuit later, what a way to remember it by.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

He stands, arm outstretched in an offer. “Liar.”

You take it, letting him pull you up with those ridiculously hot muscles of his, your fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. “Fine, but if the pictures are cursed I’m blaming you.”

“Worth it.” He replies, smiling like a kid as you start walking hand in hand.

The photo booth is tucked away in the corner of a small record store, wedged between a rack of dusty mixtapes and a gumball machine with two broken legs. It smells of old vinyl and vaguely like popcorn. You don’t question it.

Mingyu feeds the coins into the slot with exaggerated care. “Okay, we have four shots. That’s like, two opportunities for you to regret ever agreeing to this.”

You step into the booth and sit beside him, knees bumping in the tiny space. It’s close, intimate, too much and not enough all at once.

The screen starts counting down from five.

“I don’t know what to do with my face!” you hiss.

“Be hot,” he whispers. “You’re great at that.”

Your head whips to him, eyes wide, “Wha–” 

The first flash goes off, the photo probably catching your shocks and him mid-laugh, and honestly, that feels perfect.

“Now is when you choose to flirt with me for the first time?!” You complain, but the pink dusting your face discredits any real annoyance you may have.

The second flash hits as you both lean in, cheeks nearly touch, faces still buzzing with excitement from the last joke. You can’t help it when you smile. Big, bright, giddy, and real.

The third one comes too fast, Mingyu panicking and throwing up a peace sign while you do finger guns. It’s terribly amazing.

The final countdown starts, seeming slower somehow. You look at him. He looks at you. Neither of you move.

And then, with one second left, you lean in and press your forehead to his. It’s not a kiss. Not yet. But it’s close, and it’s honest.

The flash goes off.

You’re both slightly breathless when the strips print, you take one like it’s fragile, smoothing the curl of the paper as he takes the other.

“Geez,” you say, staring at the photos. “We look like idiots.”

“We are idiots,” he says, peering over your shoulder. “But we’re idiots with a photo now.”

You glance up at him. He’s already looking at you.

You fold the strip carefully and tuck it into your bag. “I’m keeping it. So you can’t deny any of this ever happened.”

He grins. “Good. I wouldn’t want to.”

The sky is melting into soft amber by the time you both leave the booth, a strip of blurry, laughing snapshots fluttering between your fingers. Mingyu’s arm brushes yours as he stretches after sitting down too long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, it just feels like him.

“Want me to walk you home?” he asks, already falling into step beside you like he always does.

You glanced at him, amused. “You do that even when I don’t ask.”

He grins, eyes flicking to the sidewalk. “Yeah, but now it’s a date-walk-home. Totally different category.”

“Right,” you say, pretending to be serious. “That changes everything.”

“I should have brought a rose. Or walked on the traffic side like a gentleman.”

“You always walk on the traffic side.” You point out.

“Oh,” he says before gasping, mock-scandalized. “Then I guess I’ve been courting you this entire time!”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder with his as the two of you fall into step like always. Same rhythm, same streets, same jokes traded over the same old cracks in the sidewalk, but now there's something quieter between you. Not tension, like before, just the awareness that what you used to call platonic has been rearranged, softened by truth and proximity and all the bullshit you two went through to get here.

“I used to think you were walking me home out of guilt,” you say after a few blocks. “Like, ‘well, I crushed her dreams of getting laid, might as well make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped.”

He snorts, “That was only part of it.”

You glance at him, taking in his faint smile, slightly shy eyes as he says, a little quieter now, “I just like walking with you, even when we were a mess. Maybe even especially then.”

You nod, because you did too. Back then, you never knew what to say when you felt too much, but just walking beside him, not saying anything, was always enough.

He holds the cookie container under one arm and keeps the photo strip neatly in his back pocket, like it’s worth saving.

You reach your street before you’re ready, both of you slowing your steps without saying anything. He stops at the entrance to your apartment, hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at your front door like it’s suddenly very interesting.

You can see that he wants to say something, so you wait, giving him time.

“Since we’re being honest with each other now,” He starts, “I almost kissed you earlier.”

You swallow, caught off guard. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, looking up. “Because… I didn’t want to mess it up by going too fast. I think—I know—if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want to do it all the time. And we’re taking things slow, so I don’t want to push too far too fast and lose this. Lose us.”

The light above you flickers in time with your hearts skipped beat as you nod.

“I’d let you. Kiss me, I mean.” You say softly.

“I know,” his voice catches slightly, “That was part of it too. Still in shock that this is real, you know? Like, I know it is but I still feel like… I’m gonna wake up alone.”

You know what he means. Know how your past words and actions had made him feel this way, so you offer whatever support you can give, looking down and nodding slightly with a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah. For the record, I’m 100% on board with going slow. I don’t want you to think I’m just in this to fuck you.”

For once, you hold your tongue, not adding the usual ‘although I wouldn’t complain if you did’. But you know he sees it by the way his lips quirk up in recognition, the way he squeezes your hand gently.

“We really are a mess, huh?” You say after a moment.

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, “I’m a perfect picture of emotional restraint.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You once cried because a bird stared at you too long.”

“It was a very aggressive bird!” He defends, making you both giggle.

You’re still laughing as you unlock your door, him standing a few steps behind you, like he always does. Like he’s guarding the space without pushing into it.

You turn around just before you step in. “Thanks for walking me.”

“Always.”

You hesitate, looking at him. The curve of his face, the familiar look in his eye that mimics your own, not wanting to part but not knowing how to ask. So you just do it without overthinking (too much).

“Star Wars marathon?” You offer.

And you know you won’t regret it as soon as you see the way Mingyu’s face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask all week, since we haven’t done our monthly rewatch.”

You jokingly scoff, letting him in. “You could have asked me.”

“Yeah, but then I’d seem too eager.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh yeah?” You snort. “And what reputation is that?”

He follows you inside naturally, “Cool. Untouchable. Mysterious.”

You guffaw before you can stop yourself, “You cry every time Anakin and Obi-wan fight on Mustafar.”

“Okay, first of all,” he says, toeing off his shoes, “that was a betrayal of cosmic proportions. You don’t just recover from that. Secondly, so do you, you cry about Anakin being—and I quote—‘too hot to be evil’.”

You laugh as you flick on the lights. “I think you just imprinted on Obi-wan too hard as a kid.”

“I was a noble child with a strong sense of justice,” he says, already heading to his designated spot on your couch. “Also, have you seen Ewan McGregor? He had really good hair.”

“Still does.”

“Exactly.”

After changing into comfortable clothes—sweats, and a soft T-shirt that definitely used to be his— you grab the stack of old DVDs from your shelf—because despite all your streaming subscriptions, neither of you trust the digital versions not to change scenes—and toss them onto the coffee table. Mingyu holds up one of your fluffy blankets like a question, you nod. The two of you set up, falling back into the rhythm you always have.

You settle in beside him and he drapes the blanket over both of your legs, knees bumping his in a way that feels familiar. Safe. 

You nudge him when he steals the remote, and he just shoots you a cheeky grin and sets up the first movie without asking which one to start with, because you always alternate chronological and release order, ever since you argued over which is the superior option back when the tradition first started. Today is release order, your favorite.

The opening crawl rolls up the screen and you can’t help but steal a glance at him.

He’s mouthing the words. Of course he is.

You grin, sinking back into the cushions. He notices and turns to you. 

“What?”

“You’re a huge dork.” You whisper with a smile.

He shrugs, not embarrassed in the slightest, “You like it.”

And you do. You really, really do.

Somewhere between Alderaan exploding and Obi-Wan dying you end up leaning into him, your head falling naturally against his shoulder. He tilts slightly toward you, resting his cheek on the top of your head. It’s quiet in the best way, no pressure, no expectations, just shared warmth and the low hum of the TV (and the occasional Wilhelm scream).

At some point, you realize he’s not mouthing along anymore.

You peak up and a small smile creeps onto your face. He’s asleep, mouth parted slightly, hair a mess, one arm loosely around your waist like it ended up there by accident. 

You shift just enough to rest your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. He stirs a little but doesn’t wake, instead tightening his arm around you like he’s been doing this forever.

You smile, closing your eyes.

The next morning arrives with a soft, golden light filtering through your curtains, and the distinct realization that you’re not alone on the couch.

Your neck aches, your foot’s asleep, and Mingyu is half on top of you, snoring softly with his face smushed into your shoulder like it's a particularly comfortable pillow.

You blink, brain slowly coming back online.

The TV is still on, frozen somewhere in the middle of Return of the Jedi. There’s a crumb trail on the coffee table, a tangled mess of blankets at your feet, and Mingyu’s hand is dangerously close to your ass.

You shift, causing him to groan, barely stirring, and muttering something unintelligible about Wookies.

You stifle a laugh. Of course he’s dreaming about Star Wars.

You glance at the clock. It’s somehow almost ten, and—despite the fact that you’re sweaty, uncomfortably folded into the couch cushions, and slightly drooling—you’ve never felt more at peace.

Mingyu stirs again, this time blinking awake slowly, brow furrowing as if waking up requires deep mental effort.

“…Are we dead?” he croaks, voice rough with sleep.

“Only emotionally,” you say, shifting under him. “You’re crushing my spine.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he rolls off you with all the grace of a tranquilized elephant. “I had dream about turning into a blueberry and getting eaten by chewbacca.” He says as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“Sounds like a pretty accurate metaphor for your emotional state.”

He squints at you through messy hair. “Do you ever shut up in the morning?”

“Nope,” you stretch your arms lazily over your head, wincing. “God, how are we not paralyzed after that?”

“I’m built different,” he says, groaning as he sits up and immediately regrets it, judging by the look on his face. “By which, I mean stupid.”

You both sit there for a moment, blinking at each other in disheveled silence.

And then he smiles.

It’s slow. Easy. Sleep-soft and fond in a way that turns your stomach into warm mush.

“You look good like this,” he says, nudging your socked foot with his, “all cute and tired.”

You flick a crumb at him to hide your flushing face—you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him flirting back. “Don’t start flirting with me before I’ve brushed my teeth.”

“No promises.”

He stands and stretches with a noise that might belong to a dying walrus, then offers you a hand. You take it, even though you don’t need help, because it’s just the thing now, apparently. Finding those little excuses to touch each other (not that you’re complaining).

“I’ll make coffee?” he offers, already padding toward your kitchen like it’s his.

“Wait,” you call, following. “You remember where everything is?”

He throws you a smug look over his shoulder. “Babe. I’ve made coffee in your kitchen like a hundred times. The only difference is that now I get to kiss you, if I want to.”

You pause in your tracks.

He doesn’t look back right away, like he didn’t just drop that on your morning like a bomb. But then—just as he pulls the mugs down—he glances over his shoulder.

A question in his eyes.

You don’t answer with words.

You walk up behind him, stand on tiptoe, and press a kiss to his shoulder blade through the fabric of his shirt. You can feel the way his breath hitches as you rest your cheek against his back, arms loose around his waist.

“That okay?” you whisper, smiling when he nods. You hug him tighter, just for a second, before letting go.

He doesn’t move for a beat, just stands there with your warmth still lingering on his back, his hands frozen mid-reach toward the coffee pot like his entire system’s short-circuited.

Then he says, quietly, almost reverent, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s more than okay.”

You hum and slide onto the couch, tucking your knees up beneath you. Watching him try to regain control of his body after one shoulder kiss is possibly the highlight of your entire week.

He fumbles the coffee grounds a little, doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You’re blushing,” you sing-song.

“Shut up,” he mutters, ears practically glowing crimson.

You rest your chin on your knees, grinning. “I thought you were gonna be cocky, considering your reputation.”

“I was cocky before. Now I’m terrified.”

You snort. “Of what?”

“That this is a dream,” he says, flicking on the coffee machine. “Or that I’m gonna say something dumb and ruin it.”

“Statistically speaking, that second one’s a very real threat.”

He throws a dish towel at your face.

You catch it, laughing.

The apartment fills with the smell of coffee and comfort—like home, but warmer. Messier. Better.

Mingyu hands you a mug the way he always has—but this time, your fingers brush on purpose. And when he sits down next to you, he doesn’t try to hide the way he leans in a little, like gravity’s stronger now that you’ve crossed that line.

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you sipping and stealing glances, the hum of the machine fading into the background.

Then he says, cautiously, “I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes softer than before, waiting for him to continue. He sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s pulling the truth up from somewhere buried.

“I’ve…” He frowns, eyes fixed on the swirl of coffee in his mug. “I’ve never really done this part. The actual serious, wake-up-next-to-you-and-make-coffee kind of thing.”

You stay quiet, just listening, letting him find the words.

“I usually screw around. You know that. I know you know that,” he says, glancing at you with a brief, wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve always kept things light. Easy. No promises, no strings. It’s safer that way.”

He sets his mug down and laces his fingers together, elbows on the table. His tone shifts—honest now, like a confession.

“I’m good at the beginning part. The flirting. The jokes. The late nights. But once it gets real? I bolt. Or they do. I don’t think I’ve ever really given someone the chance to stick. Not because I didn’t want them to—but because I didn’t trust myself not to ruin it.”

You tilt your head, watching him with something gentler than surprise. You’ve known Mingyu for a long time. You’ve heard the stories, seen the aftermaths. But this is different. Raw.

“I never wanted to risk losing someone just by being… me. Stupid, flirty, kind of reckless me. I thought it’d be easier to never try. Keep it casual. Keep it fun. I mean, I know why people sleep with me, it’s not for me, it’s for,” he gestures vaguely at himself, not cocky, just… almost tired, “me. After a while that became what everyone expected, so that's all they wanted. The casual flings, the one night stands. That's all I could get and it’s all I wanted.”

He glances at you again. This time, he holds your gaze.

“But then you—you made it impossible not to care. You snuck in when I wasn’t looking, and now I’m scared in a way that I don’t know how to deal with. Because I do care. Fuck, I care so much, and I don’t want to mess it up by rushing into something I don’t know how to do without running away after.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “So what do you want to do?”

He exhales through his nose, smiling faintly. “Go slow. Learn how to do this right. I want to kiss you like I’ve got time. Hold your hand like it matters. Wake up next to you a hundred more times and make coffee even when I forget the right ratio.”

You huff a laugh, tears stinging unexpectedly at the corners of your eyes at the confession.

“I want to figure it out with you,” he says, softer now. “Even after everything, you’re still the most important person to me. Always have been. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to get it right for.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full—thick with everything unsaid and understood. Your heart feels like it’s expanding and cracking all at once.

You reach over and slide your fingers over his, sure but gentle.

“You’re already doing it right.”

He squeezes your hand, eyes going glossy before he blinks it away with a sheepish grin. “Don’t say that. I’ll cry and ruin my cool morning-after image.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “You’re wearing socks with Baby Yodas on them. That image was never happening.”

“Hey,” he says, mock-offended, “Grogu is timeless.”

You squeeze his fingers again, and he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—slow, deliberate.

After a moment, you smile softly. “We can go as slow as you want, Gyu. I know it may not seem like it because of my… history, but I can wait. I want this for more than just sex. I want you for more than that.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want to go slow. I want everything with you, and that scares me shitless because I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop wanting.”

Your breath catches.

Mingyu’s voice is low, not dramatic or pleading—just honest, in that helpless, almost-shaking way that only someone who means it could sound.

He looks down, like maybe saying too much is a risk he’s already halfway regretting. “I’m scared that once I let myself have this, I’ll want it all. Not just mornings and coffee and slow kisses—but holidays. Fighting over which movie to watch. Grocery shopping. All the boring, real shit. I want that with you.”

You don’t interrupt—you can’t, your heart full to the brim.

“And if I get it,” he continues, “I’m terrified I’ll mess it up. That you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not worth it. Or worse—realize I’m just the guy who never learned how to be serious until he risked ruining the best thing he’s ever had.”

You shift closer, turning so your knees bump his and you’re facing him.

He doesn’t look up until you’re there beside him, fingers brushing his knee. His eyes are glossy again, and yours are burning now too.

You lean down—because just sitting felt too far away—and cup his face in your hands.

“You’re not ruining anything,” you whisper, voice steady and confident. “You’re trying. That’s everything. That’s more than most people ever do.”

He leans into your touch like he needs it. Like he’s afraid you’d pull away.

You press your forehead to his, voice softer now. “And I’m scared too. Of wanting too much. Of losing it before we even get started. But you’re not just some guy I’m experimenting on. You’re—” You break off, breathe out. “You’re it for me, Mingyu. Okay? I don’t care if it’s too soon to say that, because it’s the truth. Whatever pace we move at, whatever we figure out along the way—I want it with you.”

“I love you.” He whispers.

You smile softly, unable to resist responding with, “I know.”

His face brightens as he chuckles, “Are you trying to Star Wars your way into bed with me again?”

“That depends, is it working?”

His hands come up to cover yours, gently pulling you in until his lips meet yours. It’s warm, soft, just the faintest brush at first. When he pulls away and looks at you, your breath hitches. His gaze searches yours for a moment before his lips are on yours again, this time deeper. The second you sigh into it his hand finds your jaw and tilts your face up like he needs it.

For all his past resistance, Mingyu kisses you like a man drowning.

It turns desperate and slow and hungry, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the way your lips move on his.

When his thumb brushes your cheekbone and his other hand grips your hip like he doesn’t trust himself to stop, you can’t help the small moan that slips from your mouth into his.

And when he pulls back, just enough to murmur, “You’re it for me too,” you know neither of you is going anywhere. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer as you sink into his lap fully. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth. It’s messy, a little breathless, as you both finally give in, losing yourselves in each other.

You roll your hips once, slow and instinctive, and he breaks the kiss with a strangled noise, forehead pressed to yours.

“I thought we were going slow,” you murmur, voice shaky with restraint.

He’s just as breathless, lips brushing yours. “We are. This is just… warming up.”

He laughs once—hoarse, almost desperate—and then his mouth is on your neck, teeth grazing skin in a way that makes you gasp. His hands are everywhere now, still careful but growing bolder, and you’re not sure which of you is trembling more.

“I’m never gonna survive this,” he mutters against your throat.

“Then don’t,” you whisper, pulling him back into another kiss. “Just fall.”

He presses his lips to yours again, and this time, the kiss is filthy.

There’s no slow, romantic build—it’s teeth and heat and the kind of kiss that says you started this, now finish it. He cups the back of your head like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, presses you back into the couch, finally, finally giving in.

“You’re evil,” he breathes against your lips.

You smile. “You like that about me.”

He doesn’t argue—just kisses you harder and lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you to your bedroom off of muscle memory alone.

He sets you down on the bed like he’s afraid you might break—slow, deliberate, like laying something sacred at an altar.

And then he just stares.

You’re beneath him, lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling fast beneath your shirt, and it’s like he can’t believe you’re real.

“God,” he breathes, brushing your hair back like he needs to see all of you, “you’re gonna ruin me.”

You pull him down by the collar of his shirt, just enough to whisper, “That’s the plan.”

But he doesn’t kiss you, not right away. 

He hovers there, like he’s savoring it, as if he’s trying to etch the curve of your cheek, the flicker in your eyes, each hitch in your breath into his being. Mingyu’s hands glide down your sides, reverent, like he’s handling something holy.

And then he dips his head.

Not to your lips.

To your neck.

Your collarbone.

Your sternum.

Mingyu kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s tasting parts of you no one else has ever dared to linger on. His mouth leaves heat in every place it touches—open, wet, near-aching kisses down your chest as he pushes your shirt up inch by inch, slow enough to make you writhe.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, nose brushing your ribs. “So warm, fuck, you smell like—God, I don’t know, home? Vanilla and—shit, I’m dizzy.”

You laugh breathlessly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You sound high.”

“I feel like I am,” he groans, like it’s a problem he has zero intention of fixing. “I’m so fucking gone.”

His hands tremble a little on your hips. He kisses a trail lower, eyes fluttering closed, and when you lift your hips to help him tug off the rest of your clothes, he has to pause and just breathe. Like if he moves too fast, he’ll short-circuit completely.

And honestly?

He might.

Because once you’re bare beneath him, once he gets his mouth back on your skin, Mingyu is gone.

He worships every inch he can reach with lips, tongue, teeth. One hand grips your thigh hard enough to leave a mark, while the other drifts aimlessly—like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most. Your waist? Your chest? Your throat? It’s like he wants everything.

His lips find the swell of your chest, and he groans—deep and raw, like the taste of your skin is too much. His hips jerk against the bed, completely unprompted, like just kissing you there wrecked him.

You’re panting now, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Mingyu…”

He moans your name like it hurts, pulling back just far enough to look at you, flushed and wild-eyed.

“I need to slow down,” he pants, voice thin. “I’m—I’m gonna cum just from touching you, I swear to god—”

You blink at him, dazed. “Gyu—”

“Fuck,” he chokes, biting his lip. “I don’t even know how, but you—I can’t think. You smile at me and I’m fucking done.”

He lowers his forehead to your stomach, breathing hard.

“I’ve never wanted anything this much,” he whispers. “Never wanted to take my time so bad but also fuck you through the damn mattress.”

You whimper, hips shifting under him, and he shudders like the sound physically hurt.

“I need a second,” he mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along the curve of your stomach like it’ll ground him. “I need to taste you, touch you, everything— gotta go slow, give you what you deserve.”

He lifts his head—flushed, wrecked already—and nods to himself.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Slow. I can do that. I have to do that.”

He finally lowers his mouth between your thighs like a man desperate for salvation. His mouth lingers everywhere except where you need him most—kissing the insides of your thighs, mouthing at your skin like he’s memorizing the taste of your sweat, your heat, your need.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your skin, breath fanning hot over you.

“More,” you practically whine, hips twitching when his tongue finally—finally—slides between your folds, slow and deliberate.

He groans like your taste wrecks him.

And then he devours you.

No teasing. No hesitation.

Mingyu’s mouth moves with purpose—wide licks that flatten against your clit, then soft, maddening flicks that make your thighs try to snap closed on instinct. He holds you open easily, large hands anchoring you to the mattress, like he wants you to fight it. Like the way you tremble only feeds something deep and feral in him.

You cry out—raw and already close embarrassingly fast—and his tongue circles tighter, more focused now, lips wrapping around your clit with gentle suction that makes your eyes roll back.

He moans into you when you grind against his face, the sound vibrating straight through your core.

“Come on,” he rasps between licks, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let go for me, baby. Want to feel you fall apart.”

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave—sharp, sudden, thighs shaking as you cry out his name. He doesn’t stop, not even as you whimper and squirm, too sensitive, too much. He keeps licking you through it, mouth greedy, tongue relentless.

“Gyu, fuck, I—” he groans, grip tightening on your hips.

“Tastes like fucking candy,” he says, voice almost wrecked. “Give me another. Please.”

Mingyu doesn’t beg, He pleads. Like his life depends on it. Like making you cum again is the only thing keeping him grounded.

And it works.

He pulls another orgasm from you with almost cruel precision, sucking your clit while two fingers slip inside you, slow and deep. Crooking them just right. You sob his name when the second release hits—longer, deeper, your whole body tensing before it breaks.

Your thighs are trembling now, your hands tangled in the sheets, yet he still doesn’t stop.

“Gyu—baby—I can’t—”

“You can,” he pants, lifting his head for just a second. His mouth is soaked, chin wet, lips swollen and red. “You’re doing so good. One more, just one more, please.”

Then he’s back between your legs, tongue working in tandem with his fingers now, faster, harder, until your breath leaves you entirely.

Your third orgasm hits like lightning.

You scream, back arching off the bed, legs quivering uncontrollably as your whole body locks up and trembles—pure overstimulation, pleasure blurring into pain and back again. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and Mingyu moans like he’s the one coming, voice ragged, fingers still moving inside you as you writhe helplessly.

He eases you down slowly, licking you softer now, gentler, until your trembling fades into aftershocks and you’re left boneless against the sheets, gasping for air.

Only then does he finally pull back—sits up on his knees, hair a mess, chest heaving, lips glossy with you. He looks wrecked. Eyes wide. Wild.

“I’ve never,” he whispers, staring at you like you’re holy. “Seen anything so fucking beautiful.”

You can’t speak, you can barely move. You’re a puddle. A completely wrecked, trembling, over-loved puddle of a human being.

And Mingyu looks like a man who just conquered Mt. Everest, won an Oscar, and found religion—all at the same time. He’s staring down at you with the dumbest, most wrecked, heart-eyes expression imaginable.

“You alive?” He asks, voice hoarse, lips still shiny, and way too pleased with himself.

You try to respond. Honestly. You try. But all that comes out is a breathy, unintelligible sound that vaguely resembles a laugh and a whimper having a crisis.

“Cool,” he says, grinning, flopping down beside you. “So, you died a little. That’s fair. I kinda did too.”

You nudge him weakly with your foot. “Stop being so smug.”

He gasps—actually gasps. “Me? Smug? I’ll have you know I’m deeply concerned about your well-being. You were shaking. Like, medically.”

“I was getting the best head of my life, geez.”

He groans and covers his face with a pillow. “Don’t say it like that. I was being romantic. I practically saw the light.”

You giggle, reaching over to tug the pillow off his face. He grins against your shoulder, then presses a soft kiss there, his hands trailing up your arm. “Too soon?”

You snort. “Way too soon. At least let me recover my ability to walk first.”

“Right. Right. Fair.” He props himself up on one elbow, eyes softening. “Seriously, though. You okay? Not too much?”

You glance at the water bottle on the nightstand and deadpan, “If you hand me that, I might forgive you for almost sending me into orbit.”

He immediately scrambles for it. “Done. And while we’re at it—snacks? A foot rub? Me apologizing to your thighs personally?”

You take the bottle, laughing. “My thighs are gonna need therapy.”

He wiggles his brows. “Good thing I’m available for emergency counseling sessions. I charge in kisses.”

You roll your eyes and sip the water. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“Baby,” he says, grinning wide, “I will always have an ulterior motive when you’re naked.”

You throw the pillow at him. He catches it with a dramatic “oof,” then immediately pulls you into his arms again like a human octopus—limbs everywhere, clingy and warm.

“You’re not escaping,” he mumbles into your hair. “Not after that. You’re mine now. Legally. Spiritually. Cosmically.”

“Cosmically?” You echo, laughing into his chest.

“Yup,” he says smugly. “You broke three laws of physics and at least two of my vertebrae. We’re bonded forever.”

You snort, half-laughing, half-yawning. “Fine. But I get the left side of the bed.”

“Deal. As long as I get you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead—messy, content, maybe a little sweaty—and then another to your cheek, and another to your shoulder like he’s trying to leave little stamps that say property of Mingyu.

You sigh dramatically. “God, you’re annoying.”

He beams. “You love that about me.”

You do.

Especially when he holds you like this. Close, warm, and totally wrapped around you, mumbling half-teasing nonsense until you’re too tired to sass him back.

“Alright, let’s get you in the shower,” Mingyu announces, already shifting like he’s preparing for a mission.

You groan dramatically. “Can’t we just marinate in our sins a little longer?”

He snorts. “Tempting, but no.”

Eventually, you mumble, “You’re gonna have to carry me to the bathroom, my legs aren’t speaking to me.”

Mingyu lifts his head from your shoulder with a proud little smile. “Good thing your legs love me.”

You swat his chest weakly. “They’re in shock. You should send them flowers.”

“Already planning on it,” he says, voice a little smug but eyes still all soft. “Also considering writing an apology letter. Maybe baking them cookies.”

You snort. “You’re such a menace.”

“A gentle, generous menace,” he corrects, pulling back just enough to kiss your forehead. “Come on, sleepy noodle. You’ll feel better after a shower.”

You groan dramatically, flopping like a fish. “Too far. My body is soup.”

“I like soup,” he says brightly, already slipping off the bed. “Especially when it’s clingy and whiny and in love with me.”

“I am not whiny—”

“You are,” he sing-songs, tossing you one of his shirts like it’s a peace offering. “But you’re cute about it, so it cancels out.”

You pull the oversized tee over your head, grumbling. “You're lucky I can't walk yet or I’d shove you into a wall.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” he says, eyes sparkling as he scoops you up bridal-style. “But I am one hundred percent into it.”

You yelp, flailing a little as your feet leave the ground. “Mingyu!”

He just laughs, carrying you toward the bathroom like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “This is part of the boyfriend package. You get head, cuddles, and a full princess carry service.”

“I didn’t know it came with a subscription.”

“Only available to very special customers,” he says, nudging the bathroom door open with his foot. “Limited time offer. Lifetime commitment optional—but encouraged.”

The mirror greets you with the sight of flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and behind you, Mingyu’s smiling like a golden retriever who just got praise and a treat.

He sets you down gently on the edge of the tub and leans over to start the shower, letting the water run warm before turning back with a small, proud puff of his chest. “Shower’s ready. And so am I.”

You narrow your eyes. “You are not helping me shower.”

He grins. “Why not? I was very involved in this mess. I think it’s only fair I help clean it up.”

“I swear, if you try to flirt with me while I’m shampooing—”

“Too late,” he says, already peeling his shirt off and dramatically tossing it aside as you do the same. “I’m mentally preparing at least five shower puns. Wanna hear the first one?”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be a soap-erior joke!”

You groan so loudly he cackles, stepping in behind you as you shuffle into the warm water. The heat hits your skin, and you sigh, the tension slowly melting out of your muscles. Mingyu wraps his arms around you from behind like a blanket, his chin resting on your shoulder.

He hums against your skin, swaying the two of you gently under the stream like you're slow dancing instead of standing bare and blissed out in a foggy bathroom.

"You're dangerously good at this," you murmur, leaning into him. “Cuddling. Carrying. Post-debauchery care.”

“I’ve trained my whole life for this moment,” he says solemnly, but he’s already grinning again. “All those hours perfecting my koala cling technique.”

You tilt your head, skeptical. “Koala cling?”

“Yeah.” He tightens his grip like a cartoon villain kidnapping a princess. “This is level four. Advanced. Only deployable on girlfriends who’ve had their souls loved out of them.”

“More like fucked out of them.” You splutter a laugh, almost slipping on the tile, and he tightens his grip again like a safety harness.

“Okay, okay—level five activated,” he says dramatically. “Safety override! Girlfriend in distress!”

You’re laughing so hard your ribs hurt. “You’re so stupid.”

“And yet, I’m still allowed to see you naked,” he says proudly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Clearly I’m doing something right.”

The steam curls around you both and you go quiet for a moment, swaying gently in the warmth, his heartbeat steady at your back.

He presses a second kiss to your shoulder, softer this time. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod slowly, still resting against him. “Yeah. Just kinda… floaty. You make my brain all fuzzy.”

“That’s my favorite compliment,” he murmurs. “Right after ‘oh my god, you idiot’ and ‘what the fuck are you doing.’”

You snort. “You’re impossible.”

He smiles into your neck. “But you like me anyway.”

You don’t say anything right away—just tip your head back onto his shoulder and let the water run over both of you. And then, very softly: “Yeah. I really do.”

Mingyu stills for a beat, like you hit a button inside him he wasn’t expecting, and then squeezes you tighter, just once, before nuzzling your damp hair with a grin you can’t see but can definitely feel.

“I like you too,” he says, voice low and stupidly fond. “Like, in a dumb, irreversible, stuck-on-you kind of way.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

“It is,” he says seriously. “I’m never gonna be normal again. I’m ruined. I’ll be in the grocery store thinking about your thighs.”

You burst out laughing. “My thighs?”

“Mmhm. I have to make amends every time I look at them.”

You spin around in his arms, water splashing between you, and poke him in the chest. “I cannot believe you just said that with a straight face.”

Mingyu grins, entirely unrepentant. “It’s true. I’m gonna start leaving them little apology notes. Post-its. Maybe a fruit basket.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh, letting your forehead fall against his chest. “You’re such a menace.”

“A menace with a sincere heart and excellent taste in thighs,” he says, tilting your chin up with his knuckle. His eyes are sparkling, water dripping from his lashes like he’s been carved from sunlight and bad decisions.

You flick his nose. “Behave.”

“Impossible,” he says. “I just went down on the love of my life for like thirty uninterrupted minutes. I’m riding a high no shower can scrub off.”

You cover your face. “You can’t keep saying things like that with no warning.”

He leans in, whispering against your ear, “What, that I’m obsessed with you? That you taste better than anything I’ve ever had? That I’m one missed eye contact away from proposing right now in this damn shower?”

Oh how the tables have turned.

You make a strangled squeaking sound and slap his shoulder, but you’re laughing too hard to look threatening. “You are unwell.”

He beams. “Terminally. Doomed. Completely whipped.”

“Honestly,” you sigh, mock-exasperated. “This is what I get for letting you touch me?”

Mingyu leans back, still holding you, as he runs his fingers gently through your wet hair. “No take-backs.”

You narrow your eyes. “Even if you keep flirting like a Shakespeare character with brain damage?”

He gasps, hand to heart. “Rude. My iambic pentameter is flawless.”

“You’re so lucky I’m soft for you,” you mutter, turning into his chest again.

“I know,” he says smugly, hugging you close. “And I’m never letting you forget it.”

Then, quieter, more sincere: “Hey. I mean it, though. I’ve never done that before. Not like that. Not just… that.”

You blink up at him. “Really?”

He nods, brushing some wet strands off your cheek. “Yeah. But you—” He breaks into a shy, almost boyish grin. “I didn’t want anything else. That was enough.”

Your chest squeezes so tight it’s almost hard to breathe.

You cup his face, fingers curling behind his ears. “You’re kind of a dream, you know that?”

He shrugs, grinning like a goof. “A dream with a tongue like a superpower. Pretty sure that makes me a Marvel hero.”

You burst into helpless giggles, kissing his cheek. “My ‘Oral Avenger’.”

He snorts, and you both double over in laughter.

He tries to stand up straighter, puffing out his chest like he’s about to recite a monologue. “Sworn protector of pleasure. Defender of thighs. Champion of cuddles.”

You wheeze. “Mingyu, please.”

“Silence, civilian,” he says, adopting a comically deep voice and cupping water in his hands like he’s about to baptize you. “You’ve been saved by the Oral Avenger. Gratitude is mandatory. Kisses are currency.”

You smack his arm, still laughing, nearly slipping again, but he catches you immediately—reflexes like a superhero, unfortunately for your dignity.

“You are not real,” you manage, gripping his shoulders for balance. “There’s no way someone like you actually exists.”

He grins, obnoxiously proud. “And yet, here I am. Naked in your shower. Making you laugh. Making you—” He cuts himself off with a smug little smirk. “Well. You remember.”

“Vividly,” you say, pretending to glare at him, though you’re still smiling so wide it hurts.

He softens then, all the goofiness still there in his eyes, but dialed down into something quieter, sweeter. “I like being the one who gets to take care of you.”

Your heart stutters. “Even when I’m a soup noodle who can barely stand?”

“Especially then,” he says, wrapping you back into his arms under the warm spray. “That’s when you’re at your most dangerous. All soft and sleepy and wrapped around me.”

You hide your face against his chest again. “You’re gonna kill me with how much you like me.”

“Plot twist,” he whispers. “You’ve been killing me since day one.”

You groan. “We’re gonna drown in the sap.”

“Good,” he says cheerfully. “If we die, at least we die clean, naked, and stupid in love.”

You shake your head, giggling as you curl into him, his arms keeping you steady, his warmth making the water feel even softer somehow. You’re not sure how long you stand there—swaying slightly, his fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back, the shower a quiet hum around you—but you could stay forever if it meant this.

Eventually, you sigh. “I’m turning into a raisin.”

Mingyu kisses your forehead. “Then it’s time for phase three.”

You squint up at him. “What the hell is phase three?”

He smiles like a man with a very serious plan. “Snacks. Sweatpants. Cuddles so aggressive, they’re basically a hostage situation.”

You pretend to think it over, then nod. “Acceptable. But I get to steal your hoodie.”

“Obviously,” he says. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t immediately offer you all my clothes like a Victorian suitor offering his estate?”

“You are so weird,” you say, stepping out and reaching for a towel.

He hands you one, then wraps one around his waist with that same dumb, soft grin still glued to his face. “Weirdly in love with you.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Smooth.”

He shrugs. “You like it.”

...And unfortunately for your dignity, you do.

You do. You like it so much it should be illegal.

And judging by the way Mingyu is looking at you—like you just personally rewrote his understanding of happiness—he knows it too.

“Alright, Avenger,” you say, toweling off your hair and trying not to look too fond, “lead the way to phase three. But I swear, if there are no snacks, I’m revoking your superhero license.”

Mingyu gasps in mock offense. “My license?! Baby, I passed all the tests. Oral, emotional, cuddly—I’m triple certified.”

“Triple certified menace,” you mutter, but you’re grinning again, and he’s already reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers together like it’s second nature.

He tugs you gently through the steam-filled bathroom and into the bedroom, still warm with leftover sunlight and very real post-orgasmic bliss. You collapse dramatically onto the bed, limbs flopping like you’ve been felled by love itself.

Mingyu disappears for all of twenty seconds—just enough time for you to contemplate stealing all the covers—before returning with snacks balanced on a tray like a waiter at a fancy café.

“You didn’t—” you start, but stop when you see what he’s brought: chocolate-covered pretzels and a bag of your favorite chips. There's also a soda can with a bendy straw already popped in.

You blink. “You’re disgustingly good at this.”

He beams and bows with all the grace of a man who just handed you his soul in snack form. “Told you. Trained my whole life.”

You sit up to let him crawl into bed beside you, and the moment he’s within reach, you snag his hoodie off the floor and yank it over your head. It smells like detergent and him, and it’s instantly your new favorite piece of clothing.

Mingyu lets out a pleased little hum, already pulling you into his side. “Perfect. Now you’re officially in hostage cuddle territory.”

You lean into his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your cheek. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kinda okay with that.”

He presses a kiss into your hair. “Good. Because I’m planning to hold you until your battery recharges.”

“You think I’m a phone?”

“I think you were on 2% when I found you on that bed, and now you’re blinking red with a system warning.”

You laugh quietly. “And what? You’re the charger?”

“Obviously.” He turns his head to look at you, eyes soft. “I’m the premium, extra-snuggly, heart-eyed charger with emotional availability enabled.”

You blink up at him. “Who are you and what did you do with the emotionally constipated flirt I called a best friend?”

He grins, not even pretending to be offended. “He evolved. Pokémon-style. Final form unlocked.”

You nuzzle closer, letting your hand settle over his heart. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Totally. But you like me anyway.”

And you do. God, you do.

You fall asleep like that—not even realizing it at first. Just warm limbs tangled up in his, the quiet crackle of snack wrappers long forgotten, your breaths syncing up, your fingers still tangled. The last thing you feel before the darkness pulls you under is his lips brushing your forehead again, and his voice, soft and half-lost in sleep.

“Best nap of my life. With my favorite person.”

You don’t answer, already drifting.

But if you could, you’d say the same.

The light is different when you wake up—thicker, lazier, like even the sun can’t be bothered to move too quickly. It’s warm, filtered through the curtains, and casting faint gold over the tangle of limbs you’re currently buried in.

You blink slowly. It takes a second to remember where you are, what time it is, who this very warm, very broad human heat source is.

And then Mingyu lets out a soft snore against your shoulder.

Right. Him.

You glance over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:04 PM.

Jesus. You slept hard.

Probably because of the mind-melting head. Probably because of the post-orgasm snacks. Probably because your body hit the kind of wall you don’t come back from without several REM cycles and light therapy.

You shift a little, trying to ease a cramp out of your leg, but Mingyu just makes a noise of protest and tightens his grip, burying his face deeper into your neck like a clingy koala with attachment issues.

“Don’t move,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and half-asleep. “You’re my favorite pillow.”

You snort, rubbing at your eyes. “You’re crushing my soul.”

“Good,” he says groggily. “It belongs to me now. Legally. Cosmically. We talked about this.”

You groan and stretch one arm over your head, nearly whacking him in the face. He doesn’t even flinch. “How are you still warm? You’re like a human oven.”

“I run hot,” he says, barely audible before chuckling. “You said that to me once.”

You bite back a smile and lean your head against his chest again. “You’ve been purposefully annoying since the minute I met you.”

“I prefer ‘strategically charming.’”

“You told me I looked like I’d never lifted a box in my life when I asked you for help in chem lab.”

He lifts his head a little, squinting down at you with the dumbest, sleepiest smile. “And look how far we’ve come. I went from roasting your biceps to worshiping your thighs.”

“God,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.”

You lie on him a little longer—mostly because you’re still boneless and warm and the hoodie you stole smells like him and sunshine and home. His fingers start tracing light shapes over your hip through the fabric, like he’s not even fully awake, just wired to reach for you.

After a while, your stomach growls loud enough to startle even him.

You both freeze.

Then he grins. “Phase four.”

You sigh, already dreading it. “Don’t tell me there’s an actual plan.”

“There’s always a plan,” he says, rolling onto his back dramatically like a king preparing to address his subjects. “Phase four is: second snacks, lazy post-nap makeouts, and possibly Mario Kart.”

You blink. “Mario Kart?”

He nods solemnly. “It’s an essential bonding ritual. We play. You lose. I gloat. You call me a cheater. I kiss you to distract you during Rainbow Road. Balance is restored to the universe.”

You stare at him, lips twitching. “You kiss me to cheat?”

“Strategically charming,” he repeats, tapping his temple.

You swat his stomach. “Fine. But I get to pick the snacks this time.”

He immediately holds out the imaginary microphone. “Say less, your majesty.”

You throw a pillow at his face. He catches it without looking.

This man. This absolute menace of a human being.

You get up eventually—only because your body is no longer soup and your stomach sounds like it’s trying to file a formal complaint. Mingyu follows close behind, shirtless, fluffy-haired, and smug as ever, trailing you like a golden retriever on a mission to be fed and cuddled in equal measure.

And you let him. Because at 3PM, in a quiet house with the afternoon sun crawling across the floor, being wrapped up in him still feels like the safest, softest place in the world.

The kitchen is quiet when you pad in, your feet bare, Mingyu’s hoodie hanging nearly to your knees, and the way it smells like him does something dangerous to your heart. There’s a gentle hum from the fridge, the distant sound of birds outside. It feels like the world is holding its breath, letting you have this one slow, perfect moment.

Mingyu follows close behind, hair rumpled from sleep, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and the kind of smile that looks like it’s still half-dreaming. He’s blinking slow, like his body hasn’t fully caught up to being awake, and when he sees you reaching for the cabinet, he immediately steps in to help.

“Let me,” he murmurs, voice still thick and scratchy with sleep.

You step aside, not protesting. Watching the way his muscles shift under his skin, the way his fingers fumble adorably on the mugs like he’s too cozy to function at full capacity.

“I was gonna make us breakfast. Lunch? Brunch.” you say softly.

“I’m helping,” he says, placing two mugs on the counter. “That makes me the co-chef. Sous-chef. Whatever gets me a taste-test.”

You smile, nose scrunching. “You just want to eat the batter again.”

“I just want to be near you while you whisk things,” he admits shamelessly. “You get all focused and bite your lip and it does something to me.”

“You’re such a sap,” you say, but your cheeks are warm and your stomach flutters like you’re seventeen and in love for the first time.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you pull out ingredients. You look away fast, too flustered to keep eye contact, pouring milk into the bowl like it’s suddenly become a very serious task.

He stays close while you work—handing you the whisk without you asking, brushing a crumb off your cheek with the gentlest touch, kissing your shoulder in the middle of your stirring like he can’t help it. It’s not rushed or loud or over-the-top. Just soft. Slow. The kind of lazy afternoon that you’d have never believed would be possible for you a few weeks ago—especially not with Mingyu.

Eventually, the pancakes are golden and fluffy and stacked high on the plate. Mingyu sets the table, even folds the napkins like you’re having brunch at a tiny sunlit diner that only exists for the two of you.

You sit side by side at the kitchen table, knees brushing, syrup pooling on your plates, and when you take the first bite and hum softly in approval, Mingyu practically lights up.

“Good?” he asks, like it matters more than anything.

You nod. “Perfect.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Told you we make a good team.”

You both eat slowly, sharing bites, stealing glances, saying very little. The silence is warm, not awkward, just comfortable.

At one point, he tugs gently at your sleeve and says, “Hey. Look at me for a sec.”

You do.

He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft and careful and full of something that makes your chest ache.

“Just wanted to,” he says quietly.

Soon enough, you're both camped out on the floor in front of your TV, controllers in hand, knees knocking as Rainbow Road loads with its usual screaming colors and doom. Rainbow Road is chaos. Always has been. Always will be. And somehow, it’s the one track you two keep coming back to like it’s a relationship test.

You’re hunched forward with laser focus, tongue poking out just slightly as your kart hits every drift perfectly. Mingyu’s right behind you, gritting his teeth, doing everything he can to keep up. His character keeps skidding on the edges, and your laughter only makes it worse.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” you coo, which earns you a red shell to the face.

“Oh, I’m so done playing nice,” he warns, trying not to smile too hard as you fake a dramatic gasp.

By the third lap, you're ahead again—just barely. The final stretch is coming up, and you're gripping the controller like it’s life or death. You can feel him shift beside you, like he’s about to pull something.

“What are you—”

You don’t get to finish that thought, because suddenly he leans in and kisses you.

And not just a quick peck.

He cups your jaw with one hand and kisses you full-on, lips warm and insistent, like he’s been waiting all game for the excuse. It steals your breath. Your thumbs slow, your brain short-circuits. You let out a surprised little noise against his mouth, and he smiles into it—because of course he does.

Your kart immediately flies off the side of the track.

“You—!” you start, breaking the kiss as your character spins out into oblivion.

Mingyu’s already whooping like he won the lottery, flopping backward on the carpet with the most satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“That’s not fair!” you say, shoving his shoulder.

“That’s Mario Kart, baby,” he says, breathless with laughter. “And also… that was so worth it.”

You’re still dazed, fingers limp around the controller. “You kissed me to win.”

“I kissed you because I wanted to. Winning was a bonus.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you,” he says smugly, pulling you into him again.

You drop the controller, straddling his lap without even thinking. “Say that again without the smug.”

He kisses you slower this time. Less about the victory, more about you. His hand finds your waist like it’s second nature, and the only thing glowing now is the TV screen forgotten in the background.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, voice is soft, but sure, like he’s sharing a secret just for you.  It makes your cheeks flush, breath hitching.

You pull away just long enough to whisper, “I love you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But next race I’m sitting in your lap. Let's see who’s distracted then.”

Mingyu blinks. “Oh,” he says, in that dumb, boyish way that means his brain has officially exited the chat.

You smirk, brushing a thumb across the corner of his mouth. “What? You started it.”

“I didn’t think you’d go feral about it,” he mumbles, staring at you like you just promised to ruin his life—in the best way possible.

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Rainbow Road, rematch. I’ll drive. You suffer.”

He groans, but it’s the kind that curls into a laugh halfway through. “You’re not gonna let me concentrate at all, are you?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you say sweetly, reaching for the controller again. “I mean, you cheated.”

He sits up a little, hands slipping to your thighs, keeping you there like he doesn’t want you going anywhere. “That was strategy.”

“You kissed me, you maniac!”

He grins. “Yeah, and now you’re in my lap, so technically I won twice.”

Your mouth drops open. “You little—”

But he cuts you off with another kiss. This one is lazy, familiar, warm. It makes you feel like you won even though you didn’t. His lips move against yours like he could keep doing this forever and wouldn’t mind never finishing another race again.

You kiss him back, just because you can. Just because it’s him.

Somewhere behind you, the Mario Kart theme loops cheerfully, oblivious to the way you two are definitely not playing anymore. His hands slip further up your thighs, massaging them as the kiss grows hungrier.

He pulls you closer, the world narrowing to the press of his lips and the soft heat of his hands exploring like they remember every curve by heart. Your breath catches when his tongue lightly brushes yours, slow and teasing, inviting but never rushing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils wide, voice low. “You wanna keep playing?”

You blink, dizzy from the way he’s touching you. “The game?”

“No,” he murmurs, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, “but we can pretend.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s fond, your hands sliding up under his shirt like they have a mind of their own. “You’re the worst,” you mumble, but it’s hard to sound convincing when your thumbs are already tracing the ridges of his stomach.

“And yet,” he whispers, tilting his head to kiss just under your jaw, “here you are. Still in my lap.”

You hum, neck tilting instinctively as he sucks lightly at your skin, just enough to make your breath stutter. “It’s for revenge,” you claim, your voice barely steady. “I need to win the rematch. Gotta... intimidate the opponent.”

Mingyu pulls back just slightly to meet your gaze, lips flushed, expression of pure trouble. “Oh yeah? This is intimidation?”

“I’m very scary,” you say, trying to hold back a smile as your nails lightly rake down his chest.

He shivers, mouth parting. “Terrifying,” he agrees, eyes flicking down to your lips again. “Should I be nervous?”

“Only if you’re bad at multitasking.”

He huffs a laugh, deep and breathy, then slides his arms all the way around you, hugging you to his chest like it’s second nature—like it’s always been this easy. His heart is racing. Yours might be worse.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you say quietly, voice just shy of breathless, “and we’re never gonna finish this game.”

He kisses you again—deeper this time. No warning, no teasing. Just heat.

Your breath catches, mouth parting instinctively, and he takes the invitation without hesitation. His tongue brushes yours, slow and deliberate, and your fingers clutch his shirt tighter like you’re trying not to slide right off his lap and onto the floor.

“Who said we need to?” he murmurs into your mouth, lips still moving with yours like he’s trying to make you forget the concept of time entirely.

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes glazed, lips red and swollen. “We’ve played two matches,” you say, barely holding back a grin, “and you’re already trying to seduce me mid-race?”

He laughs, low and cocky, hands sliding under the back of your shirt like he’s been waiting all night for an excuse. “Babe, I’ve been trying to seduce you since match zero.”

“Well,” you breathe, his touch dragging goosebumps along your spine, “you’re getting better at it.”

“Good,” he whispers, fingers pressing into your hips, dragging you closer. “Because I’m not planning to stop.”

You shift in his lap, just enough to feel the way he tenses beneath you. His breath stutters.

“Oh,” you say softly, feigning innocence, “that distracting?”

He groans, dropping his head back with a curse. “You’re a menace.”

“You like it.”

“I love it,” he says, voice rough now, pulling you back down to kiss you like he’s been starving for it. It’s messier this time, hungrier—your teeth catching his bottom lip, his hands tugging you flush against him like he’s trying to eliminate any space left between you.

The controller clatters to the floor. Neither of you notices.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, and the way he growls low in his throat makes heat shoot down your spine. “Mingyu—”

“Yeah?” he says, lips dragging down your jaw, kissing the corner of your neck with a kind of reverence that still somehow feels desperate.

“I think…” you gasp, back arching a little as he sucks a bruise just below your collarbone, “...we’re gonna have to pause the rematch.”

He huffs a laugh against your skin, biting down gently just to hear the sound you make. “Call it a tactical delay.”

Your hands are under his shirt now, palms hot against his skin, mapping out every inch like you’re memorizing it for later. “You cheat at more than just Mario Kart, you know that?”

He pulls back to look at you, flushed and breathing hard, hair a mess because of your fingers, and still somehow the most beautiful disaster you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t care if I win or lose,” he says, voice raw, “as long as I get you like this.”

That shuts you up.

Because then he kisses you again—hard, like a promise—and you let him, gladly.

Your hips roll into his without thinking, and his breath hitches, hands tightening on your waist. When you do it again, slower this time, his mouth breaks from yours, head dropping to your shoulder with a ragged groan.

“You’re killing me,” he says, voice muffled.

You grin, breathless. “Still scary?”

He looks up, hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched, pupils blown wide. “Terrified.”

Your laughter turns into a gasp as he shifts beneath you, both hands gripping your thighs like he’s grounding himself—like if he doesn’t hold onto something, he might actually lose his mind.

You’re not much better. Every point of contact between you feels like static—crackling, insistent, addictive.

He mouths at your neck, open and wet, and you can feel the heat of it radiating through your whole body. “You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are,” you murmur, voice unsteady as your fingers trail along the waistband of his sweats.

“Because you’re the one on top of me right now,” he says, lips brushing against your skin, “and I still don’t know if we’re making out or if I’m being punished.”

You smirk, tugging at his shirt. “Why not both?”

“God,” he mutters, helping you pull it over his head, voice going hoarse at the feel of your hands dragging up his chest. “You're evil.”

“You’re easy.”

“Only for you.”

The air shifts between you then—something thick and loaded hanging in the pause that follows. Your eyes lock, and it’s like you both realize at the same time that you’ve tipped past some invisible edge. That playful energy is still there, but underneath it—undeniable heat. Need.

His hand cups the back of your neck, gentle but firm as he pulls you back down into him. The kiss starts slow but deepens fast, tongues sliding, breaths catching, teeth grazing lips in that barely-restrained way that makes your stomach flip.

You grind into him again, deliberate now, and the moan that leaves his mouth is low and wrecked.

“Shit—” he pants, clutching at your hips like they’re the only thing tethering him to the floor. “You keep doing that, I’m not gonna survive this round.”

Your lips find his throat, kissing down the column of it, and you feel the way he shudders underneath you. “You’ll be fine,” you whisper. “You’re strong.”

He laughs, then immediately chokes on it when you suck lightly at a spot just under his jaw.

“Fuck, okay—okay. I’m tapping out,” he groans, but his hands are dragging up under your shirt now too, like he’s searching for skin he hasn’t kissed yet. “You win.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. His hair’s a mess, pupils blown, lips kiss-bitten and swollen. Your heartbeat’s pounding so loud you can feel it in your ears.

“I wasn’t keeping score,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “Can I still kiss you like I lost?”

You nod once, and that’s all it takes—he flips you both over, laying you back against the carpet with him hovering above you, hands braced on either side of your head.

He kisses you like he’s letting go of every ounce of self-control he’s been holding onto. Like he’s been wanting this for days and finally got permission.

And you—god, you let him. You welcome it. Fingers tangled in his hair, back arching up into him as his body presses you down like you’re something sacred he’s allowed to worship.

You gasp when his mouth finds your collarbone again, dragging teeth over skin like he wants to leave more evidence. His name slips from your lips, involuntary.

He answers with another kiss, softer this time, like he’s trying to say I’m here without the words.

Your hands roam instinctively, finding the warm plane of his back, the curve of his shoulder, the soft tension of muscle shifting beneath your touch. He feels real in a way that makes your chest ache—solid and warm and entirely yours.

And god, the way he’s kissing you—like he doesn’t care about pace or time or the carpet burning into his knees. Like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he’s learning you one kiss at a time and still hungry for more.

His hand slides up your side, slow and reverent, fingertips brushing beneath your bra and then pausing—checking. His mouth parts from yours just long enough to breathe out, “Okay?”

You nod, throat dry. “Yeah. Yes.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all night, and then he’s kissing down your neck again—tongue flicking over the bruise he left earlier, teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder. You shiver beneath him, hips shifting up against his without meaning to, and the sound he makes in response is something that shoots straight to your core.

“Mingyu—” you whisper, half a warning, half a plea, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your skin, and it sounds like a promise.

One hand dips between you, sliding under the waistband of your shorts with that same careful urgency—like he’s trying to balance the need to be gentle with the very real possibility he might come undone if he waits much longer. His fingers trail lower, slow and teasing, and your back arches before you can stop it.

“You’re so warm,” he breathes, like it’s a revelation. “So soft. Fuck—”

Your head tilts back as his fingers move just right, and your legs fall further apart on instinct, letting him in. His name leaves your mouth again, barely audible, and it makes him glance up, eyes dark and soft and completely focused on you.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice tighter now, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You nod quickly, pulling him back into a kiss. “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He touches you slower than that morning, like he’s trying to learn every single way you fall apart this time—each sigh, each flutter of your lashes, each shift of your hips. The game’s long forgotten, and this is the real win.

And when your breath starts to hitch, your thighs trembling around his wrist, he presses his forehead to yours and says your name like it’s a prayer. You clutch at his back, clinging to the moment, to him, to this stupid, perfect boy who kissed you mid-race and ruined your life a little—in the best way.

You cum with his mouth on yours and his hand coaxing you through it, every nerve alight, every thought blank except for MingyuMingyuMingyu.

When it fades, he kisses you again, softer now, like a thank-you. Like a goddamn lullaby.

“Still smug?” you murmur, breath shaky, eyes half-lidded as you come down.

He grins—sleepy and wild and very pleased with himself. “Depends. Are you still scary?”

You smile, pulling him closer. “You have no idea.”

Mingyu stills. His breath catches—just for a second—before he lifts his head to look at you. The air between you is still buzzing with the aftershock of everything that just passed between your bodies, but his eyes soften like they always do when it’s you. 

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, like he’s offering you a way out. Even now.

You nod, threading your fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I want you.”

That’s all it takes.

He stands first, gently pulling you up with him, hands finding your waist like he needs to keep touching you or he might float off the ground. You lead the way to your bedroom, your fingers tangled in his, the soft creak of the door closing behind you louder than you expect.

The room is quiet except for your breathing—his still uneven, yours still shallow. The soft wash of moonlight spills in through the window, casting faint shadows across your bed, your floor, the way he looks at you like you’re something he never expected to have.

You back toward the bed slowly, legs brushing the frame, and he follows until your knees bump the mattress. His hands find your hips again, thumbs rubbing gentle circles like he’s grounding himself all over again.

“You can still back out,” he says, serious now, even if his voice is a little breathless. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

“I don’t want to rush,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of your (his) shirt, “but I do want this. With you.”

His jaw flexes as he watches you pull the fabric over your head, eyes tracking every slow reveal like he’s memorizing you by the second. You reach for him too, tugging at the drawstring of his sweats as he steps closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

There’s still teasing in the way he kisses you, sure—but it’s slowed now, as if all the earlier heat has melted into something even more intimate. He lays you down with a kind of care that makes your heart ache, crawling into the bed like he belongs there—like he’s always meant to be here with you.

You scoot back until the backs of your knees meet the pillows, Mingyu following you down, one arm braced beside your head while the other traces the curve of your waist. He kisses you again, deep and steady this time, like he wants to feel every inch of you in the press of his mouth. His fingers ghost up your ribs, brushing the underside of your chest, then pausing again, like he’s checking in without words.

You nod, barely a breath. “Please.”

You feel laid bare in every way—your skin, your breath, the way his eyes take you in like you’re something to be studied, cherished.

“God,” he murmurs, voice gone quiet and raspy. “You’re... you’re unreal.”

You shake your head, a little dazed and a lot in love. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” He bends down to kiss your chest, slow and deliberate, like he wants to worship you in pieces. “You’re mine.”

It should sound cocky. It would if it came from anyone else. But it’s Mingyu, saying it with that look in his eyes—like it’s less about possession and more about awe. Like he still can’t believe you let him have this.

You tug him down until he’s flush against you, skin to skin, the heat between you both stifling and electric. He groans softly as your hands find his hips, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down just enough so they fall to the floor with his boxers.

“Okay?” he whispers again, kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the edge of your jaw.

You nod and pull him closer. “More than.”

And then he’s moving—slow and careful, like he’s still half-afraid to break you, even now. But you anchor him with your hands on his back, your legs around his waist, the brush of your nose against his.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, and this time it’s not a promise. It’s a fact.

And when he finally pushes into you, your breath catches hard, eyes fluttering shut from the stretch, the closeness, the dizzying warmth of it all. He stills immediately, pressing his forehead to yours, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Tell me if—”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, voice already trembling. “I need—just... stay. Right there.”

He does. Of course he does. He always does.

He moves slowly, carefully, like the moment is something he wants to savor—not rush. Like this is the part he’s been waiting for all along. And god, it’s everything. The heat, the weight, the feel of his mouth on your shoulder, his hand gripping yours tight between the sheets.

You whisper his name again and again, and every time it leaves your lips, he gives something back—deeper, closer, gentler. His lips find yours between gasps, half-kisses and murmured sweet things you can’t even process because he’s filling you with too much. Too much heat, too much love, too much him.

And when you finally cum again, it’s overwhelming. It hits hard and bright and sharp, curling your toes, your back arching off the mattress as he holds you through it, forehead pressed to your temple, voice saying your name like he means it.

He follows just after, hips stuttering as he buries his face in your neck, his moan muffled by skin and sheets.

The room is quiet in the aftermath. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled limbs, and the faint rush of blood still roaring in your ears.

Eventually, Mingyu lifts his head, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “Still scary?” he murmurs, voice wrecked but amused.

You smile, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “Only if you leave your socks on again.”

He lets out a groan and flops to the side, dragging you with him. “Low blow. That was one time.”

You curl into his chest, sated and warm and so full of him you don’t even know where you end and he begins. “It was yesterday.”

He laughs, breathless, curling an arm around you like he never plans to let go.

And maybe—just maybe—you hope he doesn’t. Because who cares if you lose when you have him.

BONUS:

[ver8ho]

cuties af

[cheers-to-you-th]

Winner Takes it All

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: Friends to lovers, angst, humor, fluff Warnings: very suggestive (MDNI), seft-doubt, idiocy, self indulgent nerdiness Word count: 17k

Part two

Summary: It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore. The question is, why won't he fuck you?!

or

Your journey of attempting to seduce your friend, Kim Mingyu

ty my pookies @supi-wupi and @gyubakeries for betaing ilysm y'all are literally the best

It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh, but if there's one thing everyone on campus knows, it's that he’s a good fuck. It's not like he has no standards, he just isn’t shy about his life, and with his looks, you wouldn’t be either. He wears the title like a badge of honor, girls practically tripping over themselves to sleep with him at every chance. So yeah, it's no secret that Kim Mingyu appreciates and indulges in one night stands, random hookups, and having an all around good time. The question is, why on earth won’t he sleep with you?

You first brought it up one night during a study session at his apartment that had turned into beer and complaining about life. He was your friend, you consider yourself to be pretty close. You figured, he’s so open about his sex life, why can’t you be? (and you were maybe a few cans too deep) He was talking about how one of the girls he’d hooked up with recently wouldn’t leave him alone even though he’d clearly told her it was a one time thing.

“God, I haven’t been fucked good in so long” You groan dramatically as he chokes on his beer. “Like, seriously, I feel like a fucking celibate. No shame on celibates, just not my thing.”

At that he snorts, “I’m sure I know plenty of people who wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

You roll your eyes, stretching your legs across his lap like you always do when you're a little tipsy and annoyed. “Yeah, but I’m not trying to settle for just anyone. I want to be fucked well, not just… you know, awkward thrusts and two minutes of missionary while some dude tries to make me come with, like, hope and vibes.”

Mingyu laughs—big and loud and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” you say, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You’ve got this reputation, right? Campus Casanova, professional heartbreaker, dick of the year—”

“Thank you,” he says with a flourish.

“—so why haven’t I benefited from that? I have a declaration.” You raise your hand dramatically and point at him, “You are the chosen one. This is my most desperate hour. Fuck me, Kim Mingyu, you’re my only hope.”

Mingyu snorts so hard he actually wheezes, pressing a hand to his chest like your words physically knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just—did you Star Wars me into asking for sex?”

You grin, a little smug, a little unhinged, and blame the alcohol and the way he’s looking at you now—eyes wide but amused, lips parted around the beginning of a smile that doesn’t reach his usual cocky level. He’s… surprised. And not laughing at you. Just surprised.

“I’m being resourceful,” you say, lifting your beer in a mock toast. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to fuck their hot friend?”

“So you think I’m hot?” he teases, and you blame the alcohol for how you think you see something deeper in his eyes.

You snort. “Mingyu, that’s the least controversial opinion I’ve ever had.”

Mingyu throws his head back, groaning like you’ve just inflicted pain instead of flattery. “God, don’t say stuff like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he says, brushing your leg off his lap playfully and standing to grab another beer. “It’s that I like being friends with you, and hearing you say shit like that makes it dangerous.”

You blink. “Dangerous how?”

He shrugs, cracking open the can and avoiding your gaze in a way that’s suspiciously casual. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, but your drunk brain has terrible ideas. I like us the way we are.”

You narrow your eyes. “So you won’t sleep with me?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

“Even if I say please?” You say, looking up at him innocently.

“You look like a tarsier.” He deadpans.

You scoff. “Wow. I’m offended. Rejected and mocked?”

He leans against the kitchen counter and grins, annoyingly charming and smug. “Consider it a compliment. You're one of the few people I don't want to ruin with my ‘dick of the year’.”

You toss a pillow at him. “I’ll have you know I only asked because I was trying to solve a very real personal crisis.”

“Well, this crisis,” he says, catching the pillow and throwing it back, “will not be solved with me. I’m flattered. Really. But nah.”

You sit there for a beat, squinting at him like you’re trying to find the crack in his logic. “Is this, like, a challenge? Are you saying I’m not good enough for your stupid dick?”

He snorts. “I’m saying you’re too good. Too funny. Too smart. And my friend whom I greatly value.”

“Oh my god, stop trying to reject me nicely” you groan, flopping dramatically back onto the couch.

“I’m not trying,” he says with a wink. “It’s just my natural charm.”

You pout, staring at the ceiling, a wicked little idea already forming. “Fine. Reject me. I see how it is.” You sigh dramatically then look at him. “But don’t think this is over.”

“Oh really?” he says, amused.

You glance at him sideways, eyes sharp. “You’ll break eventually. Everyone does.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just patient,” you sing, reaching for your beer.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he walks back over. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

If he thinks you’re going to drop it, he clearly doesn’t know you as well as he thought.

Because the war has begun.

Let the games begin.

You’ve never put this much thought into what hoodie to wear.

It’s not like you’re trying to look good, exactly. That would be obvious. But you’re also not trying to look bad. There’s a difference between “I woke up like this” and “I look like I’ve been dragged backward through laundry day.” It’s a delicate balance. Especially when you’re hiding very expensive, very pretty lingerie under said hoodie.

Tonight is movie night—your usual Friday plan. Mingyu had texted you earlier:

«giant (dick [allegedly])» u better not bring any weird artsy film again

«giant (dick [allegedly])» we’re watching something where things explode

«giant (dick [allegedly])» also i have snacks this time. good ones. not like your off-brand cheetos

You’d sent back a very dignified “rude” and a middle finger emoji. Now you’re standing in front of your mirror, trying to figure out if this hoodie makes you look effortlessly hot or just… like you’re trying too hard to be effortless.

“Jesus,” you mutter, adjusting the zipper just low enough to maybe give him a hint. A taste. Not enough to look desperate, but enough to make him wonder.

For the record, this isn’t about sleeping with him anymore (although it’s not off the table). It’s about principle. About honor. You’re great. You’re hot. You’re smart and funny and flexible—both emotionally and physically. You’ve done yoga three times this week just in case. He should be begging.

You show up with popcorn, a smug smile, and your hoodie unzipped just enough to showcase a tasteful amount of lace.

He opens the door with a soda in hand, already grinning. “Took you long enough—are you seriously wearing that?”

You glance down. “This is a perfectly acceptable outfit for movie night.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, suspicious. “You hate that hoodie. You said it made you look like a sad librarian.”

“I’ve had a change of heart,” you say breezily, pushing past him into the apartment. He follows, still watching you like you just switched exam answers last minute. “Okay, but like… are you trying to seduce me with snack food? Because if so, it’s working.”

You toss the popcorn onto the coffee table. “Mingyu, please. If I wanted to seduce you, you’d already be in my bed.”

He chokes on his soda. “What—excuse me—how’d that work out for you last time?”

You plop onto the couch, flipping him off. He’s still staring at you as he joins you, only this time there’s a tiny crease in his brow. Like he’s thinking about it.

Excellent.

The movie starts. Some kind of loud, poorly lit action flick that you pretend to watch. Mostly, you’re watching him. He’s in his usual hoodie and sweatpants, one hand in the popcorn, the other resting on the back of the couch like he owns the place (which, I mean, he does, since it is his apartment). When he leans back and stretches out his legs, you mirror him, thigh brushing his intentionally. Five minutes later, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Comfy?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Mmm,” you hum. “Your shoulder’s surprisingly sturdy for someone with the maturity of a middle school boy.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who once cried during Shrek 2.”

“It's emotional, okay!?”

He snorts, and you feel the vibration in your cheek against his hoodie. His arm shifts a little. Not around you. But closer.

Now is the time.

You lift your head, just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes and just enough that your hoodie slides down a tiny bit, giving him the wonderful view of the pretty lace set. Not enough that you’re exposed, but not too little that he doesn’t know what it is. Perfect.

He glances down.

Pauses.

Then promptly throws a piece of popcorn at your face.

“Nice try,” he says, grinning wide.

You gasp. “Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says smugly. “And I’m flattered, really. But I’m not falling for the push-up bra and smolder look.”

You cross your arms. “How do you know it’s a push-up bra?”

“Because you told me last month that lace makes you itchy and underwire is the devil. You’ve only ever suffered for fashion when you’re trying to make a point.”

“…damn it.”

Mingyu laughs again, genuinely delighted, and tosses another popcorn piece at your hoodie. “Good effort, though. Strong opening move.”

You sigh, dramatically. “Fuck you. This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Oh, much harder,” he says, winking.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Not that way, don’t even—” “I didn’t say anything!” You defend yourself. “You were thinking it!” You flop back against the couch. “This is war.” He just grins, stretching his arm casually across the couch again—so close, almost around you, but not quite. “Bring it on.”

You do not, in fact, bring it on. Not immediately.

Because for the next forty-five minutes, you're watching a bunch of buff guys with buzzcuts yell at each other over a glowing briefcase. It's not your genre. It's barely anyone’s genre, but Mingyu’s watching with the concentration of someone trying to defuse a bomb.

You glance at him.

Then at your hoodie.

Then back at him.

Okay, maybe not war. Not yet. Maybe… espionage. Quiet. Tactical. Strategic use of cleavage. You shift in your seat slightly, just enough that your leg presses into his a little more. Not obnoxiously. Just… available. You exhale slowly and lean back, stretching your arms overhead in a motion that’s meant to look natural and only slightly like a lingerie commercial.

Mingyu doesn’t react.

You risk a glance. He’s got popcorn in his mouth and a blank, blissed-out expression like he’s communing with the gods of artificial cheese dust. He doesn’t even notice your stretch. You could probably flash him outright and he’d still be thinking about Bruce Willis. You glare at him. He senses it, somehow, because without looking away from the screen, he mutters, “If you’re still trying to seduce me, your timing’s shit. This is the best part.” “This is the part where they blow up another building.” “Exactly.” You’re going to kill him.

Fine. So he’s immune to passive cleavage and casual stretching. You can work with that. You’ve got depth. Range. A highly specific collection of lingerie, and at least three more strategies.

Phase two begins approximately five minutes after his third “this is the best part” comment, when one of the action guys says something stupid enough that even he winces. You seize the moment.

“You know,” you say, “I could write better dialogue in my sleep.”

Mingyu hums. “Mmhm.”

“I’m serious. Give me a gun and a reason to be angry and I’m unstoppable.”

“You literally cried when you hit your knee on my coffee table last week.”

“I thought it broke my patella!”

“It’s not even sharp!”

“It bruised like a bitch!”

He glances at your legs. “So fragile. So elegant.” You ignore the fact that your legs are currently draped half across his lap.

“That’s my point,” you say. “I’m deceptively dangerous. Like a swan.”

He looks at you skeptically. “Pardon?”

“Swan,” you repeat. “All grace and feathers up top, but with murderous feet underneath. You ever see a swan fight? Terrifying.”

“I have literally never thought about swans that way.”

“Well, now you will. I’m a swan. I could absolutely take out a bad guy.”

“You couldn’t even take out the spider in my bathroom.” He says with a raised brow.

“That spider leapt! I wasn’t expecting aerial combat!”

Mingyu breaks, laughing so hard he nearly spills the popcorn. His head drops back on the couch and he grins at the ceiling like he’s never been more amused. You let yourself look at him for a second too long—his dimples, the way his throat moves when he swallows his laugh, the tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes that only shows up when he’s actually, genuinely happy.

You look at him, laughing like that, and you briefly forget your entire mission. Because really, how is anyone supposed to function with that kind of face beaming at them? It should be illegal. At least mildly regulated. But then he shifts, still grinning, and pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth like he didn’t just survive a verbal swan-based assassination attempt—and you remember. This is war. And the enemy is smug.

“If you want me, you’re gonna have to compete with explosives and daddy issues.” He says with an annoying smirk.

You make a strangled noise of disbelief. “Are you seriously picking emotionally stunted action men over me?”

“Right now?” he says, finally turning to you with the kind of grin that makes you want to punch him and kiss him simultaneously. “Yeah. They’ve got car chases. You’ve got passive-aggressive lingerie.”

You clutch a couch pillow to your chest and groan into it. “You are the worst.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, “you keep coming back.”

“Because I’m determined,” you mumble into the cushion. “Because this is important. Because—”

“You want me to fuck you,” he supplies, chipper.

You scowl, crossing your arms. “God, you make it sound so crass. I was gonna say ‘make sweet, passionate love.’”

He snorts. “No, you weren’t.”

“I might’ve,” you mutter. “If you’d given me a chance.”

He finally glances at you, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly amused way of his. “And what part of this movie made you horny? The car explosion or the guy bleeding out in a warehouse?”

“Neither,” you say, leaning in, “You. You’re the problem.”

Mingyu doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shift. Just stares you down with that maddening calm. “You know it’s not happening.”

You grin, wicked. “Yet.”

“Ever.”

You click your tongue. “You say that like I’m not currently wearing lingerie under this hoodie.”

He raises his eyebrow, no reaction again—just calm, smug, frustratingly unbothered Mingyu.

You narrow your eyes. “God, you’re annoying.”

“And yet here you are, trying to seduce me with popcorn and cleavage.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t escalate.”

He leans back, stretches his arm along the back of the couch—close, but not touching you. “You can escalate all you want, babe. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna break.”

You inhale. Slow. Calculating.

Then, deadpan: “Would it help if I said I’ve been told my head game is life-changing?”

Mingyu barks out a laugh. “Jesus.”

You rest your chin on your hand, watching him with faux-innocence. “I’m just saying. Could be a cultural experience.”

“I’m not a tourist,” he says, tone lazy. “And you’re not a destination.”

“Ooh, poetic,” you say. “I’ll quote that in my memoir. Right after the chapter titled How I Sucked Off My Hot Friend.”

He shakes his head, laughing now, that deep, quiet kind that makes your stomach twist. “You’re so dramatic.”

You groan, flopping sideways against the couch like a wilted plant. “How are you immune to this? Are you secretly a monk?”

“I just have restraint,” he says with a smug little smile. “Unlike some people.”

“You didn’t seem very restrained when Jiwon from your stats class was crawling into your lap at that party last week.”

He shrugs, finally glancing at you, eyes gleaming. “She’s not my friend.”

The implication hits you like a pillow to the face. “Oh my god, is this like a ‘you can’t touch this’ thing?”

Mingyu’s grin stretches wider. “Exactly. I don’t mix friendship and… that.”

You roll your eyes, but inwardly, something twists—a little sting, a little hope. “Fine. So I’m your friend. The one you don’t want to ruin.”

“Yup.”

“Is that your nice way of saying I’m off-limits?”

“Maybe,” he says, voice softening just a bit.

You stare at him, the TV noise fading into the background as your mind races. The war you thought you started suddenly feels a lot less like a game.

“You know,” you say slowly, “this friend zone is starting to look more like a fortress.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… good luck storming the castle.”

You lean back, eyes locked on his, the challenge clear. “Watch me.”

“One day,” he says, hands behind his head now, “you’re gonna look back and realize all these attempts just made me stronger.”

“Oh, is that what you think this is?” you say, poking his shin. “A training montage?”

He grins. “Every hero has one.”

“Hero?” You scoff again. “I’m the hero. You’re the idiot refusing to sleep with me.”

“I’m the wise guardian mentor figure,” he says seriously. “Keeping you from making a mistake you’d regret.”

“Okay Obi-Wan,” you mutter.

He snorts. You’re not sure if you want to strangle him or crawl into his lap and see if the ‘not falling for it’ act cracks when you’re straddling him. Probably both.

Instead, you smirk. “Fine,” you say, brushing popcorn crumbs off your lap and standing with an exaggerated stretch. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to help me with my desperate need for intimacy.”

Mingyu doesn’t move, but his eyes follow you as you walk toward the kitchen.

“Make sure he knows how to deal with aerial spiders,” he calls lazily.

“I’ll add it to the checklist,” you shoot back.

You open the fridge. Your reflection in the glass looks like someone who could get laid tonight if only the object of their desire wasn't annoyingly principled and hot about it.

Mingyu’s voice cuts through your thoughts, still from the couch.

“Don’t think I’m letting you win.”

You smile to yourself.

“Who said I was playing fair?”

Third time’s the charm. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you lean over Kim Mingyu’s kitchen counter with your chin propped on your palm, legs crossed just so, pretending you’re not hyper-aware of how the hem of your skirt is riding up. It’s Thursday, and he’s cooking. Cooking. Like the audacity of this man, to be hot, funny, emotionally intelligent and able to make dinner from scratch with forearms flexing every time he stirs something. It’s a casual thing. He’d invited you over because you “looked like you hadn’t eaten a real meal in days” after you mentioned surviving on instant noodles and Red Bull. Apparently, that meant he’d take it upon himself to feed you. Like some kind of boyfriend.

Which he is not.

Because he still won’t fuck you (amongst other things).

So tonight, you’ve decided to bring out the big guns: flirting in domesticity. The sacred land of couples and casual touches. If movie night was a game of checkers, this is chess. Strategic. Psychological. Wearing an innocent skirt and a soft sweater because you could be the kind of girl he brings home for the night—or for life. Who’s to say?

He moves around the kitchen like he belongs there, wooden spoon in hand, hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back absently with his wrist, and you have to resist the urge to sigh like a romcom extra watching her crush.

“You know,” you say, lightly kicking your heel against the cabinet beneath you. “You’re dangerously close to wife material right now.”

Mingyu doesn’t look up, just chuckles as he stirs the sauce. “Is that a compliment or a threat?”

“Depends. You planning on making dessert too?”

He does look up then—eyes gleaming with amusement, the curve of his mouth smug. “What, you trying to lock me down with a ring already?”

You hum, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “I’m just saying, most guys don’t cook for their friends. At least not the ones who claim they’re ‘dangerous’ to sleep with.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Are we back on this again?”

“We never left,” you say sweetly, hopping off the counter and sauntering over to where he’s plating pasta like some Food Network god. You lean against the island, arms folded, watching him with interest. “So what’s the deal? You’re clearly into me.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t play dumb. You keep inviting me over. You call me cute. You literally offered to drive me across town last week just so I wouldn’t have to take the bus.”

“I’m a good friend,” he says, placing the plates on the counter with an infuriating smile. “Ever think of that?”

“Nope. I don’t buy it.” You take a step closer, close enough to brush his arm with yours. “You’re too good a friend. Suspiciously good. Like you’re overcompensating for wanting to see me naked.”

He huffs a laugh, but you see the way his ears go pink. Just a little. Just enough.

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice like you’re telling a secret. “You ever think maybe we’d be better unclothed friends?”

“Bold of you to say while I’m feeding you,” he mutters, half amused, half exasperated.

You grin. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just… expand our friendship. Horizontally.”

He snorts, nearly drops a fork. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

There’s a beat. You both go still. He turns to face you fully now, arms crossed, leaning back against the counter. He studies you for a moment—really studies you. It’s the kind of look that might’ve made you flinch a month ago, but now? Now it just makes your blood buzz.

Then he says, very calmly, “I’m not sleeping with you.”

You blink. “Still?”

“Still.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like you.”

“That’s why people usually fuck.”

“Correction: that’s why other people fuck. I like us. I like this. I don’t want this to change.”

You tilt your head, stepping even closer so your bodies nearly touch. “Come on, just one time!”

He breathes out a soft laugh, and god, he looks tired. Like fighting this off is actual work.

Then he raises a hand and gently flicks your forehead.

You reel back. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Bad,” he says, like you’re a misbehaving cat. “No seducing me while I’m cooking.”

You gape at him, one hand still protectively covering your forehead. “You flicked me?”

“It was a gentle rebuke.”

“You flicked me!”

He walks past you, grabbing utensils and dramatically setting the table like you haven’t just offered him your entire body on a very emotional platter.

“You’re lucky this food is good,” you grumble, slinking over to your chair.

“You’re lucky I haven’t banned you from my kitchen.”

“Oh, you’d miss me too much.”

He smiles and doesn’t argue.

And when you sit down across from him, he places a glass of water in front of you with a wink.

“Eat up,” he says. “Gotta keep you strong for all that plotting.”

You take a sip, narrowing your eyes. “You’re going down, Kim Mingyu.”

He toasts his own glass. “Bring it.”

Fourth time’s not just the charm—it’s the full fucking spellbook. You're done playing fair. Sweet? Gone. Subtle? Never heard of her. Strategic? Please. It’s time for full-on seduction sorcery (as if you’d been any of those things before). Tonight, you're bringing the heat.

And you know exactly how to do it: co-op gaming night.

The plan is simple. Mingyu invited you over to try some co-op zombie survival game he swears by, the kind that involves “teamwork and trust,” which you immediately translated as “an excuse to flirt while fake-dying in his lap.” He doesn’t know it yet, but this is your boss level. The moment you either break him… or break yourself trying.

You show up with takeout, lip gloss, and your tiniest pair of shorts, the kind that should be illegal by public decency standards. You pair it with a t-shirt that says “Save a Horse, Ride a Homie” and pretend like you totally forgot how it looked when you got dressed.

He stares at you. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Then snorts, voice a little rough, “That shirt is… something.”

You grin, pushing past him. “It’s educational.”

Mingyu groans behind you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s the goal, sweetheart.”

You settle in on the couch, already syncing up controllers. He hands you yours with a suspicious glance.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he says, eyes narrowing. “That means you’re up to something.”

“Wrong,” you say, batting your lashes. “I’m just here to kill zombies and look cute.”

“You’re doing great at one of those.”

You smirk. “Wait ‘til you see my aim.”

The game starts. It’s fast-paced, messy, full of chaotic yelling and pixelated blood. You scream when a zombie jumps out, grabbing his arm without thinking—and then don’t let go. He’s warm. Solid. Way too close to not be touched.

“Jesus,” he mutters, glancing down at where you’re gripping his bicep. “You okay there?”

“I need moral support,” you say, innocently. “This game is stressful. I’m fragile.”

“You’re the least fragile person I’ve ever met.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

You squeeze his arm a little harder and he doesn't shake you off. In fact, he seems very… still. Eyes on the screen. Jaw tight. Perfect.

You lean your head against his shoulder. “You smell really nice,” you murmur.

Mingyu coughs. “I—what?”

“You smell like laundry and testosterone. It’s comforting.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t answer, but his shoulder shifts beneath your cheek—tense, like you’re a particularly tricky level of self-control he’s struggling to beat. The match ends. You survive. Barely. You celebrate by dramatically flopping across his lap, legs hanging off the couch, head tilted back against his thigh.

“I need a reward,” you say, eyes fluttering closed.

“For what? Dying twice and screaming every time something moved?”

“For being adorable under pressure.”

“You’re insufferable.”

You crack one eye open. “And yet you haven’t moved me.”

“I don’t want to throw out my back.”

You roll over just enough to look up at him from his lap, your cheek pressed against his thigh, hair fanned out over his legs. “Do I make you nervous, Mingyu?”

He meets your gaze. Doesn’t flinch. Just raises a single, challenging brow.

“No,” he says. “You make me tired.”

You laugh, breathless and fond. “Liar.”

He sighs, not quite annoyed. More like… resigned. His hand hovers, then lands lightly on your head—just a little pat, soft and careful. You close your eyes, heart thudding a little too loud.

“Still not fucking you,” he says after a beat, fingers curling once in your hair before pulling away.

You groan, rolling dramatically off his lap. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

He shrugs, smug as hell. “I’m just helping build your character.”

You sit up, shoving a controller into his hands. “Boring. But if I win the next round, you owe me a kiss.”

Mingyu barks a laugh. “A kiss? What happened to subtlety?”

“It died,” you say cheerfully, “like my character did last round.”

He stares at you. And then—God help you—he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “One kiss. If you win.”

You freeze. “Wait, really?”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re letting me think I have a chance.”

“No,” he says, already choosing his loadout, “I’m just confident you’ll choke.”

Your heart stumbles. Your fingers tighten on the controller. “Jokes on you, I have very good control over my gag reflex.” You say with a smirk, prompting an eye roll.

He doesn’t get it yet.

He’s already lost.

Because even if you lose the game—you’re still getting that kiss.

One way or another.

Let the real final boss fight begin.

You lose.

Of course you do.

You die seven times, run directly into a trap once, and at one point, accidentally shoot Mingyu in the back with your pixelated shotgun.

“I told you to watch your six,” he says, tossing his controller onto the table with a grin that is far too pleased with itself.

“I don’t even know what that means!” you cry, slumping sideways on the couch in defeat. “Do I have a six?”

Mingyu stretches, flexing his arms like a smug asshole who just conquered a small country. “It means behind you, rookie.”

“I hate military slang. And you. Mostly you.”

“You love me,” he says, nudging your knee with his own. “Even if I’m a sore winner.”

You scowl. “You're the smuggest winner. Obnoxious. The worst.”

“You’re stalling,” he says, leaning back against the cushions. “You lost. You know what that means.”

“Yeah, yeah, no kiss for me.” You say with a pout, throwing a pillow at him.

“Better luck next time,” he says with a wink, catching the pillow and chucking it right back.

It hits you in the stomach, and you collapse in defeat again. “I don’t know how someone so hot can also be so emotionally bankrupt.”

He laughs—loud and free and unfairly handsome. “Don’t act like I haven’t given you things.”

You give him a look. “Name one.”

“Entertainment. Dinner. Valuable zombie combat skills. My lap.”

“That last one was mine.”

“You invaded, actually. Like a feral cat.”

You stick your tongue out at him as he stretches out across the couch, laughing.

You let him win this time because you know in the end, you’ll end up on top (or under, really).

Seungcheol, like always, is hosting a party in honor of who-knows-what doing something or another. You don’t care, all you care about is that this means proximity. Opportunity. A chance to look like you belong in someone else’s fantasy. Preferably Mingyu’s. You stand in the middle of your room, surrounded by the wreckage of indecision: clothing draped over every surface, shoes like fallen soldiers at your feet. Your bed is a graveyard of rejects—too casual, too clingy, too try-hard. You’ve already put on three different outfits and hated them all in the time it took to blink, making your room smell faintly of perfume and self-doubt.

You finally find a dress, hot but not desperate, showing just enough skin to tease but not too much. You twist, checking every angle. It works. It works so well you almost feel sorry for him. You sit at your vanity to do your makeup, something soft around the eyes, shimmer at the inner corners, lip gloss just on the verge of sticky. You want to look glowy. So touchable yet untouchable. Expensive.

Your earrings are simple but deliberate, the kind that draws just enough attention when you tuck your hair behind your ear. And you will. At least twice. Especially if he’s looking. Your perfume is the last step. It’s warm—vanilla and skin and something that lingers. You spritz your wrists, the back of your knees. You’ve read that trick somewhere and it’s never failed you.

You glance at your phone. You’re late.

Of course, that’s part of the plan.

You take one last look in the mirror. You look like someone who doesn’t get ignored. You look like someone who knows exactly what kind of power she’s playing with. You smooth your dress, grab your bag, and smile.

“Let’s see how long he lasts.”

The party is already loud when you get there. Not in the chaotic, packed-club way. It’s a loft space that smells like prosecco and floor polish, all open brick and fairy lights strung across beams. The music is low enough to talk over, the people pretty enough to pretend they don’t notice how much they’re being watched.

You arrive just late enough to make an entrance. It’s deliberate, the way you step in. The way you give yourself a second to adjust your dress, smooth your hair, tilt your chin like you’ve just been complimented. Someone—probably Soonyoung, the agent of all poor decisions—suggests drinking games which have already snowballed into over ten people crammed into a too-small living room playing a game that’s half charades, half yelling, and all drinking.

You’re winning. Not the game—just in general.

Because you’ve got Mingyu sandwiched between you and the arm of the couch, his thigh warm against yours, a drink in your hand, and an entire audience to witness the masterpiece that is your ongoing campaign to ruin him.

You lean over, breath brushing his ear. “If you make me guess ‘Shrek’ one more time, I swear I’ll crawl into your lap.”

He doesn’t flinch. Just sips his beer. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is,” you whisper. “I’ve been told I run hot.”

“I’ve been told you run your mouth.”

You grin. “Still not a no.”

“Still not a yes.”

From across the room, Seungkwan yells, “Your team is losing. Stop trying to molest Mingyu.”

You wave him off. “I’m multitasking.”

Mingyu takes another sip, casual. “You’re losing both tasks.”

You gasp. “Oh, wow. Now you’re trash-talking?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You wound me.” You clutch your chest dramatically, sliding a little closer until your legs are nearly tangled with his. “I’m just a girl. Sitting next to a boy. Asking him to blow my back out.”

He tilts his head lazily, looking entirely unbothered. “And I’m just a boy. Sitting next to a walking HR violation.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s rich coming from a man whose thighs are currently weaponized.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shifts slightly away, like he’s drawing some imaginary line you’ll absolutely ignore. A new round starts. Someone yells, someone else starts gesturing wildly. You lean into Mingyu again, voice low and mischievous.

“Hey,” you say. “If I guessed your safe word, would you tell me?”

“No,” he says immediately.

“Is it something embarrassing?” you tease. “Like… ‘Bubbles?’ ‘Chick-fil-A?’”

He looks at you. “It’s ‘Stop flirting with me in front of our friends.’”

You place a hand on his knee, entirely unrepentant. “That’s a terrible safe word. No one would ever say that in a sexy context, and it's way too long.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“And I’m ignoring it,” you say brightly.

“You always do.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like the attention.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at you, slow and deliberate, and sips his beer like it’s a middle finger. You wink. He rolls his eyes. Somewhere across the room, someone starts fake-gagging at the tension.

And maybe you’re not winning the game. And maybe you’re not getting laid. But you are exactly where you want to be. Still in the game. Still in the chase. Still driving Mingyu absolutely insane—one flirt at a time.

You're halfway through another drink when you notice her.

She’s pretty. Not intimidatingly so, just that easy kind of pretty that laughs with her whole face and touches Mingyu’s arm a little too often. And he doesn’t move it. Doesn’t lean away. You keep sipping, smile still in place.

It’s not like you’re jealous. You don’t do jealous. That would imply something serious. That would imply you’re losing something you ever had. It’s common knowledge that Mingyu takes a new girl home every time there's a get-together. You know that.

You lean over to Jeonghan, who’s beside you on the floor. “Hey,” you whisper. “Think I should start licking Mingyu’s neck or would that be overkill?”

He blinks at you. “Overkill for what?”

“Winning.”

He glances at Mingyu, then at the girl with the hand on Mingyu’s knee. Then at you again. “You’re losing.”

“Temporarily.”

Jeonghan snorts. “I don’t think you understand how the game works.”

You shoot him a glare and turn back just in time to catch Mingyu laughing at something she said. His hand brushes hers. Casual. Effortless. The kind of thing you’ve been trying to get out of him for weeks just handed to some girl in a backless top.

God, you hate it here.

Your stomach does something stupid. You pretend it’s indigestion and down the rest of your drink like it’s armor.

Somewhere around 1 a.m., the group starts thinning. Jackets come on, Ubers get called. Mingyu stands, casual, easy, and holds out a hand to the girl. You’re on the couch, legs curled up, an empty solo cup in hand like a sad little trophy. He meets your eyes for half a second.

Door clicks shut.

The room feels a little quieter. You sit there, watching the screen even though no one’s playing anymore. Popcorn underfoot. Bottles on the table. Someone else’s jacket on your lap. You’re not upset. Not really. The screensaver flickers across the TV—someone’s dog, maybe. Or a stock image of a beach. Either way, it’s mocking you.

You sink further into the couch, solo cup still dangling from your fingers like it's got something to say about your life choices. You ignore it. You ignore the silence too.

This is fine.

You’re fine.

You weren’t trying to win anything. Not really. Not in any real, capital-letter way. This was a game, remember? All jokes and eye contact and the occasional threat to climb into his lap. It wasn’t supposed to matter. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Someone turns off the lights in the kitchen. You flinch a little at the sudden dark, even though you’re still glowing, apparently—your phone lighting up on the table with some meme from Seungkwan and a text from Jeonghan that just says:

«Devil on my shoulder»: you good?

You stare at it for a second too long. Then type back:

«Me»: always

Then you set your phone face-down and pretend that means something.

You don’t know why it stings. It’s not like he owes you anything. You’re not dating. You’re not even flirting, technically, if you ask him. Just… joking. Just friends. Friends who touch too much, maybe. Friends who play chicken with boundaries and never break. Friends who—

Yeah, okay.

You stand up. A little too fast. The room tilts like it wants to challenge you. You wave goodbye to whoever’s still left, say something flippant and breezy, and duck out before anyone can notice that your voice sounds a little too bright.

Outside, the air is cool and sharp and real. You take a breath like it’ll fix you. It doesn’t.

You go home and go to sleep. Alone, like always. No texts. No calls. Just the creak of your door, the whisper of your sheets, and the dull ache of your pride bruising in real time. You tell yourself it’s whatever. You’re not sad. You’re just… tired. Emotionally. Dramatically. Cosmetically.

You ditch class.

Not for any noble reason like catching up on sleep or mental health or whatever excuse you normally feed yourself. You just… don’t feel like seeing people. Don’t feel like making small talk or pretending you’re not reeling over something that shouldn't even count as a loss. Because it’s not a loss. You were never in the running.

Still, you wake up to a blank phone screen and an even blanker apartment. It’s too quiet. You check Instagram. Mingyu's not posted anything, obviously. He never does. But one of the other girls from last night has—there’s a blurry video of a round of drinks, a flash of Mingyu’s grin in the background, a corner of her thigh in the foreground. Nothing explicit. Nothing confirmable. But it doesn’t have to be.

You toss your phone aside and groan into your pillow. Dramatic? Maybe. Deserved? You pretend it is.

By noon, you’ve migrated to the couch in the same hoodie you went to bed in, a tub of ice cream in your lap and a terrible reality show playing in the background. You consider texting Jeonghan something petty, maybe even making a joke about neck-licking again, but you know exactly what he’d say.

“You lost.”

You hate that he’d be right.

It’s not about the sex (Well, not just the sex). It’s the principle. The chase. The fact that you’ve been climbing this flirty little hill like it’s Everest, only to watch Mingyu pitch a damn tent with someone else on a whim. Sure, Mingyu’s your friend, but that should have made it easier, if anything! You know him, you know things none of those other girls do. The doubts start creeping in your mind before you can stop them.

You lean your head back, eyes closing.

“I’m an idiot,” you mutter to the ceiling.

The ceiling does not respond. Rude.

You wake up again around three, your head a little foggy, your phone face-down on the nightstand like it betrayed you.

Which, in a way, it did.

You scroll through a few texts — mostly memes, some blurry pictures from last night, and Jeonghan’s very helpful “Mingyu’s girl looked like a yoga instructor. Your move.”

You don’t respond.

Instead, you drag yourself out of bed, slap some concealer under your eyes, and show up at the group’s usual late brunch spot like you’re not currently losing the dumbest, pettiest war in history.

He’s already there, of course. Hair still damp from a shower, sunglasses perched on his head, acting like he didn’t absolutely obliterate your ego less than 12 hours ago. You slide into the seat across from him, toss your bag down, and reach for the mimosa pitcher.

“Rough night?” he asks, because of course he does.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, did something happen? I wouldn’t know. I was too busy not getting laid.”

He snorts. “Tragic.”

“I know,” you sigh, pouring dramatically. “I almost had a sure thing. Tall guy, stupidly good-looking, terrible taste in women.”

“Sounds like a loser.”

“Total menace,” you agree. “Wears hoodies like a slut.”

Mingyu smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It was meant to be foreplay,” you joke into your drink like always, hiding the way your stomach sinks at the sight of him.

The waitress interrupts before he can fire back, and the conversation shifts to food, hangovers, and Seungkwan’s latest dating horror story. You slide back into the group like nothing’s wrong, even though there’s a weird little space inside you that feels vaguely bruised.

But you’re fine. Really.

Brunch drags on in that lazy, post-night-out kind of way—plates half-empty, drinks refilled without question, everyone talking over each other about things no one will remember tomorrow. You fake-laugh at Hoshi’s story about getting kicked out of a club for “enthusiastic dancing” and sip your third mimosa like it’s a coping mechanism. It kind of is.

Mingyu’s across from you still, legs sprawled like he owns the whole sidewalk café. He’s mostly quiet, nodding along, occasionally chiming in, occasionally looking at you. Just enough to make you insane. Not enough to call him out for it.

You lean toward Jeonghan when the conversation shifts again. “Hey,” you whisper, low and conspiratorial. “Be honest. On a scale of one to ten, how good do you think my odds are if I fake faint in Mingyu’s lap?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Like, in general? Or while he’s still got yoga girl’s perfume on his hoodie?”

You pause. Grimace. “Okay, one: rude. Two: you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I really am,” he says, sipping his iced coffee like it’s tea. “You’re fun when you’re losing.”

“I’m not losing,” you hiss.

“You’re not winning.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Mingyu’s voice cuts across the table.

“You two whispering about me again?”

“Always,” you say brightly, switching gears without missing a beat. “We’re discussing how you peaked in 2019.”

He smiles around the rim of his glass. “That the year you first tried to get in my pants?”

“No,” you say with a shrug. “That was more recent. I didn’t know what I was missing back then.”

“Still don’t,” he replies, maddeningly calm.

You narrow your eyes. “Yet.”

“Ever.”

You flash a grin, syrup-sweet. “Careful, Kim. I’m like a raccoon in the walls. You ignore me long enough and I start chewing through the wiring.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. A little. Just at the corner of his mouth.

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary, then look away like it meant nothing. Like you’re not keeping score. Like you didn’t notice the bruise-colored shadow under his eyes or how his voice was a little hoarse when he first said hi.

He’s not gloating.

That should make it easier. But it doesn’t. Because somehow, that makes it worse.

Somehow, him being normal, relaxed, unbothered—like taking another girl home wasn’t a big deal—hurts more than if he’d rubbed it in your face. Because you know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

You take another sip, push a smile onto your lips, and lean over to Jeonghan again.

“New plan,” you whisper. “I sleep with someone hotter.”

He glances at Mingyu. Then at you. “You’re gonna need a bracket system.”

“I’ll make a spreadsheet.”

“God help us all.”

You clink your glass against his in solemn agreement and stab at your pancake like it personally offended you. Jeonghan’s scrolling on his phone like he’s not in the presence of your emotional collapse, which is rude, frankly.

“So,” you say casually, “wanna fuck?”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “No.”

You pout. “Why not?”

He glances up. “Because I enjoy my life? And my sanity?”

“Rude.”

“I’ve seen what you’ve done to Mingyu.”

You scoff. “Mingyu did that to himself.”

“You are the one trying to seduce him like it’s your full-time job.”

“I’m freelance,” you say brightly. “Flexible hours, great benefits. Or they would be, if someone would just let me ride—”

“God,” Jeonghan mutters, holding up a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence in daylight.”

You lean your chin on your hand, smiling at him. “You sure? We could make Mingyu jealous. Really commit to the bit. Tongue in my mouth, hand on my ass, your name in my—”

“Please.” He waves his fork like a white flag. “There are families within a one-mile radius.”

You laugh, but there’s a tiny part of you—just under the humor, under the tequila still fizzing in your veins from the drink—that means it. Just a little.

You just want to feel wanted. Desired. Chosen.

Even if it’s fake.

Even if it’s stupid.

Even if it’s Jeonghan.

But Jeonghan sees it, of course. He always sees too much. His voice softens. “You don’t actually want me.”

You sigh, deflating. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want someone to look at me like I’m not a joke.”

“You’re not a joke.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You literally said I ruined Mingyu.”

“I said you ruined his brain, which—honestly, fair. But you’re not a joke.”

You don’t answer. You just go back to stabbing your pancake, chewing on silence and syrup and the feeling of almost being enough.

Almost.

You clear your throat, sit up a little straighter, and flash Jeonghan a grin like nothing’s wrong at all.

“Well,” you say lightly, “if you’re not going to help me fulfill my slutty revenge arc, I guess I’ll have to outsource.”

Jeonghan eyes you. “You’re deflecting.”

You widen your smile. “I’m recruiting.”

He snorts. “Don’t recruit me. I’m unionized.”

You laugh, tossing a piece of fruit at his face. He dodges it easily, still watching you with that quiet scrutiny that always makes you want to squirm. You don’t. You stay collected. Cool. Unbothered.

Because it’s not a big deal. Not really. So what if Mingyu left with some girl last night? That’s just who he is. It’s been who he is since before you started this ridiculous game. You were the one who walked in knowing the rules. You just… hoped you’d break them.

Stupid.

“Anyway,” you say, breezy, like you're not holding your smile together with metaphorical duct tape, “I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m improvising.”

“You’re losing.”

You sigh, dragging your gaze back to Mingyu—still relaxed, still maddening, still wearing that same damn hoodie. “God, he’s so annoying.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan says, “but you’re in love with the attention.”

You snort into your drink. “I am not in love.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not!” you insist. “I’m in… open conflict. With my dignity.”

Jeonghan chuckles, tipping his sunglasses down to look you in the eye. “Then maybe start treating it like a war. Regroup. Change tactics.”

You glance at Mingyu again. He’s listening to something Seungkwan is saying, a lazy smile on his face, like the last twenty-four hours were nothing. Like none of it meant anything. You hate how much you still want to reach out, to rewind to the couch, to the teasing, to the slow thrill of being almost something. Of feeling like you mattered more than the rest.

“Fine,” you murmur, straightening up. “New strategy.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Which is?”

You smile, all teeth and intent. “Play the long game.”

He snorts. “Is that code for ‘text a situationship to make Mingyu jealous?’”

“No,” you say, pulling your phone out anyway. “It’s code for ‘remind myself I’m the main character.’”

Jeonghan lifts his mimosa in salute. “Amen.”

You all head out, someone, Seungkwan probably, suggesting thrifting, and who are you to deny yourself from some retail therapy. Not that you need it. Not that it hurts when you’re rejected over and over. Not that anyone was thinking that at all. Haha.

“If I find an outfit sexy enough will you change your mind?” You say, clinging to Mingyu’s arm and batting your eyelashes, prompting an eye roll from the man.

“I rejected you in lingerie, no.” He laughs, making Jeonghan choke.

“PARDON?!”

You shrug, “It was a strategic move at the time.” You lie, not letting it bother you.

You all walk into the thrift store and you immediately take off, dragging Jeonghan with you to be the reason for your poor spending decisions. You browse the racks, grabbing different things to try on. It goes by quickly, you (not-so) subtly avoid Mingyu, using the clothes as an excuse. You need to focus on budgeting. Obviously.

You’re browsing through the dresses when you feel him behind you. You don’t look, don’t need to. You know that presence, tall and annoyingly warm. You pretend to be invested in a vaguely sparkly green slip dress, holding it up to the light like you're testing it for authenticity. As if that matters.

“Whatcha looking at?” Mingyu asks, voice low and closer than you’d like.

You hum noncommittally, turning just enough to side-eye him. “Does this say ‘fuck me’ or ‘fuck off?” You wonder out loud.

His mouth quirks, amused, “Neither, it says you’re trying to get to me again. I’m not sleeping with you, dress or not.”

You roll your eyes, “Cool, not what I asked.”

He snorts, the way always does when you're trying to act unbothered. “You literally asked, like, ten minutes ago.”

“That was a bit, Kim,” you say, flipping through a few more hangers. “An act. I’m a performer, get with the program.”

He laughs again, and it makes your chest feel tight. You want to be mad, want to have the right to feel mad. Instead you hold up a red mesh dress and make a show of holding it against yourself.

“This one says heartbreaker, doesn’t it?”

Mingyu lifts an eyebrow. “It says cover charge required.”

Jeonghan snorts from somewhere behind a rack. “He’s not wrong.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to Jeonghan with a pout. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” Jeonghan says, already holding three things you didn’t ask him to, “but I also support truth in fashion.”

You roll your eyes and stomp toward the dressing rooms, tossing the dress over your arm. Inside the dressing room, it’s just you and the mirror—which is never as forgiving as it should be. You pull the red mesh dress over your head and immediately regret it. It clings, not in a flattering way, not in a sexy, dangerous way—no, it clings like a bad idea. A transparent, slightly itchy bad idea.

You stare at yourself for a beat too long, imagining what Mingyu would say if he saw you like this. Probably something smug. Probably something that would make you want to claw the smirk right off his face.

But the worst part? He wouldn’t say nothing.

You sigh, tugging the dress back off with a grumble and trying on the next thing—a black velvet number with off-the-shoulder sleeves. Better. Safer. Something you might actually wear if your life wasn’t a constant performance. If it weren’t for all the stupid looks you steal, the dumb comments you toss like confetti just to see if he’ll catch one and throw it back. You shake the thoughts away, it's just shopping, why are you thinking so hard?

Outside, you can hear the others chatting, footsteps, laughter. You can feel Mingyu still somewhere nearby. Of course he didn’t leave.

You try on one last outfit, something ridiculous and shiny and absolutely not within budget, and you know Jeonghan’s going to encourage it anyway. You exit the stall dramatically, hand on your hip.

“Well?” you say, spinning once. “Do I look heartbreakingly unattainable or tragically desperate?”

“Why choose?” Seungkwan offers, sipping an iced americano he absolutely didn’t have five minutes ago.

“Iconic,” Jeonghan nods approvingly. “That outfit is the personality now. You’re welcome.”

Mingyu glances up from his phone. His gaze lingers a second too long—you catch it, of course you do—and then he says, “You’re gonna make someone very confused in that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Not you, though?”

“Nope,” he says easily, looking back at his screen. “I’ve already accepted my fate.”

“What fate is that?” you ask, stepping closer, tone teasing.

He doesn’t look up. “Doomed to be hit on in public by someone who refuses to take a hint.”

Jeonghan whistles. “Harsh.”

You just smile, tilting your head. “And yet, here you are. Still following me around thrift stores like a sad golden retriever.”

Mingyu finally meets your eyes, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but it’s softer than it should be.

You wish it stung more. Maybe then you could stop hoping he’d change his mind.

You step back into the dressing room, looking at the last dress for you to try on. Not something you’d normally wear: a cute sundress, flowy, innocent, something you’d have dreamed of wearing when you were a child. You slip it on, looking in the mirror with a soft smile. It's moments like these that you let yourself breath a second, let that little kid be happy. Back when things had been simpler, at least in your little world. You don’t step out yet, letting yourself enjoy the moment before changing back into your regular clothes.

You finally walk back out, dress under the others on your arm as you hang them back up. You hesitate as you hang the sundress and decide, fuck it.

“Alright, let's check out.” You say brightly.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow as he watches you march toward the front. “Wait, you’re buying something cute? Are you okay? Blink twice if Mingyu broke you emotionally.”

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. “He wishes he had that kind of power, shut the fuck up.”

Seungkwan hums thoughtfully, trailing behind you with the solemnity of a fashion consultant in a Paris showroom. “No, no, this is giving… character development. Like a girlboss in her soft era. A post-Mingyu arc.”

“I’m not in a Mingyu arc,” you mutter as you reach the checkout counter.

“Sure you aren’t,” Seungkwan and Jeonghan say at the same time, which feels both rude and accurate.

You ignore them, placing the sundress gently on the counter like it’s fragile. The cashier gives you a polite smile, ringing it up with a soft beep. You hand over your card, pretending not to notice how Mingyu is suddenly next to you again, close enough that you can smell the damn detergent he uses. Clean. Familiar.

“You’re buying that?” he asks, not mocking, just wondering.

You shrug without looking at him. “Yup.”

He glances at the dress, then at you. “It’s… different.”

“I guess,” you say, too quickly. “It's pretty though, thought I might branch out from slutty college student to country whore.”

Mingyu’s chuckles. You don’t look, don’t dare to. Just sign your name on the little screen and slide your card back into your wallet like this is any other day and not a minor shift in your emotional tectonic plates.

“You’ll look good in it,” he says honestly, the same compliments he always gives.

But something about it feels different, deeper, almost. You turn then, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes you can’t place. It’s not the usual teasing glint, not that sharp-edged challenge he usually throws at you like a dare, nor the friendly compliments and support he gives just as often.

It’s something softer. Careful, almost.

You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods once, then looks away like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like it slipped. You want to say something else—anything, really—but Seungkwan saves you both the trouble by clapping his hands like a preschool teacher at snack time.

“Alright, emotional tension break’s over, everyone back in the car before I dissolve into my own feelings.”

“I’m not riding with her,” Mingyu says, jerking a thumb in your direction. “She’s dangerous when she’s self-actualizing.”

You grin at him and tease. “Scared you might give in?”

He just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he walks out, “You wish.”

Jeonghan loops an arm through yours as you step outside, his sunglasses back on like he’s shielding himself from your emotional UV rays. “You gonna explain the new style?” he says, voice amused but not unkind. You shake your head and his voice softens slightly. “You gonna be okay?”

You shrug, leaning into him a little. “Eventually.”

“Soon?”

You grin. “Long game, remember?”

He sighs, dragging you toward the car. “God, I miss when you were just drunk and emotionally irresponsible. This whole personal growth thing is exhausting.”

You laugh, letting him pull you along. Mingyu’s already in the passenger seat, legs sprawled like always, phone in hand. He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t need to.

You still feel the pull anyway. But you’ve got your new dress in a bag, your chin a little higher than before and a half-smile tucked into your cheek like a secret. Maybe he’ll notice eventually. Maybe he won’t. But this time, you’re not dressing up for him. You’re dressing up for the version of yourself that knew she deserved the world. Even if she still kind of wants him anyway.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe, just for a little, it’s not about whether Mingyu looks at you and finally, finally sees what he’s been too comfortable to name. Maybe it’s about choosing to see yourself instead—clearly, kindly, without a punchline waiting in the wings.

The ride back is half-loud, half-sleepy, Seungkwan yelling about bad aux and Jeonghan threatening to start a podcast just to cancel him publicly. You laugh when you’re supposed to, play your part like you always do. But this time, it feels less like acting and more like remembering. Like brushing off old habits and trying something different. Like letting your heart catch its breath for a moment.

You catch Mingyu watching you once in the rearview mirror—just a flicker, a second too long before he looks away. You don’t react. You don’t rise to it. And when he cracks a joke meant to bait you, you smile, slow and warm, and say nothing at all.

Let him wonder.

Because for just a moment you’re pausing the chase and enjoying the moment with friends. Because you’ve got something better now—something quieter, steadier.

A little hope. A little growth.

A little dress in a bag that says: You’re allowed to change.

And maybe, just maybe, this time it’s not about ruining him.

Maybe it’s about saving yourself.

Just for a moment.

And then you snap out of it, going back to smart remarks and flirty comments, because change is hard, habits difficult to break. But you know that it’s possible. And for now, that’s enough.

Four days later, you arrive at Mingyu’s door wearing sweatpants and no bra.

Not in a sexy way. In an “I’ve had enough of your righteous self-control and I’m playing the long game now” way. Strategic vulnerability. The sexiest mind game of all. More than that, you need to rant to your best friend.

You knock with your elbow, a bag of takeout in one hand and a pint of ice cream balanced on top.

He opens the door and freezes.

“Wow,” he says, blinking. “You okay?”

“No,” you say, breezing past him. “I’m emotionally fragile and I need dumplings.”

Mingyu closes the door behind you. “You look emotionally fragile. Did someone die? Do I need to bury a body?”

You flop dramatically onto the couch, stretching like a cat who’s absolutely not here for seduction purposes. “Only my faith in modern romance.”

He snorts. “Was it the TikTok guy who said he wouldn’t date a girl who owns more than one pillow?”

You glare at him. “No. But honestly? Same energy.”

He joins you on the couch, reaching for the takeout bag. “Tell me everything.”

And you do. In great detail. About the guy in your seminar who asked if your “whole personality is just being a woman,” about your professor who made a joke about menopause while grading your essay, and about your period arriving early like an emotionally manipulative ex.

Through it all, Mingyu listens. Really listens. His thigh brushes yours occasionally, and you absolutely don’t notice the way he keeps glancing at your collarbone, which is scandalously bare thanks to your hoodie’s slouchy neckline.

He feeds you dumplings, presses the ice cream into your hands when you need it, and tells you he once cried at a car commercial, just to make you laugh.

And somewhere in the middle of watching reruns of Criminal Minds and trading increasingly unhinged opinions about Spencer Reid’s emotional maturity, you realize just how fucked you may be. Because Mingyu is your best friend. He’s your kind, funny, smart, unfairly sexy best friend. How are you supposed to stop yourself from falling for him?

Jeonghan was right, you realize. You're way deeper than you thought, so deep that you don’t think you can ever swim back to the surface of friendship. Shit. You continue watching, ignoring the feelings, knowing damn well they won’t go away. You fight the realization, convincing yourself to wait until you’re alone to break.

You aren’t even sure when you fell asleep, just that you woke up wrapped in a blanket, sprawled out on Mingyu’s couch.

He’s at the kitchen counter now, back to you, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from a shower. You stay still for a second longer, watching the curve of his shoulders shift as he pours himself a glass of water. You have the absurd thought that you could walk over and press your face between his shoulder blades and he might let you.

“You let me hog your couch,” you murmur, voice still scratchy.

“You drooled on it too,” he replies without turning, deadpan.

You smile faintly and sit up, the blanket slipping down. “Guess I owe you something.”

That gets him to glance over his shoulder. “You’re not cleaning it.”

You stand and stretch slowly, deliberately, feigning casualness. “Nah, I was thinking something more fun.” You walk over, letting your hand brush against the side of his as you reach for the same glass. “Maybe you should consider accepting one of my offers for once?”

“You’re really gonna try that before brushing your teeth?” he jokes lightly, but there's a quiet firmness beneath the joke.

You laugh—too loud, too fast. “Wow. Harsh.” You lean back, arms crossing over your chest to hide the sting. “I’m beginning to think you’re scared of me, Gyu.”

“I’m not scared of you,” he says. He turns to look at you then, really look, and the joke falls flat between you.

There's a pause.

“Then what is it?” you ask, keeping your voice even, your smile like armor. “Am I just not your type? I didn’t think you had one from the… variety of girls I’ve seen you take home.”

Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair. “You’re tired. Go back to sleep.”

You don’t move. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got for you.”

You let the silence settle in like dust. Then you nod, once, and turn away before he can see the disappointment tightening your face.

“Fine,” you say, the humor gone now even though you try to keep your voice light. “I’ll brush my teeth first next time.” You attempt, dropping back onto the couch and pulling the blanket over your shoulders like it might shield you from how hollow it suddenly feels.

Once you get home you let yourself fully realize. You sink into your bed, all of the moments that made you fall for him crashing into you like a tidal wave you hadn’t realized was coming until it was drowning you. His smile, his laugh, how he helps people when they need it, even when they don’t. How you use stupid jokes and flirting to pretend you don’t feel the way you do. How every time he’d take a new girl home a small part of you would twinge. How you’ve been so incredibly stupid. You wipe your tears, taking a shaky breath.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

The next wave crashes when you remember just how much he doesn’t want you. How much he turns you down, how much you try. You’d never had to try so hard with anyone else, you’d been able to bat your eyelashes and end up in someone's bed if you so wanted. But not the one person who matters.

But even that—even that—you try to twist into something survivable.

Maybe he’s just being careful. Maybe you’re too important to risk. Maybe he’s a coward.

Maybe you are.

You tell yourself he was tired too. That he didn’t mean it like that. That timing is everything and yours has always sucked.

Still, the thought circles like a vulture:

He doesn’t want you. Not like that.

And it doesn’t matter how many times you run the memories back through your head, searching for proof that he did. Because no matter how hard you look, you don’t find anything except friendly banter and a hint of genuine annoyance. Your flirting annoys him, you realize. You think back to the set of his jaw, then slight tension in his shoulders. The boundaries you’d been constantly pushing.

You don’t text him for two days.

He doesn’t text either.

On the third day, Jeonghan shows up at your door with his usual lack of warning and a bag of pastries that you’re too sad to pretend you don’t immediately want.

“I bring carbs and judgment,” he says cheerfully, pushing inside. “How’s the unrequited love pit treating you?”

You groan and faceplant into your pillow.

“Oh good,” Jeonghan says, “you’ve upgraded from denial to despair. Next stop, emotional rock bottom. We’ll get you a punch card.”

You muffle into the pillow, “I thought you were going to pretend to be supportive.”

“I am being supportive,” he says, tugging the blanket off you just enough to shove a croissant into your hand. “You’re not crying alone. You’re crying with me. And a chocolate pastry.”

You take a bite. Then another. Jeonghan waits.

After a minute, you speak. “He looked me in the eyes and told me to go back to sleep. Like I was just tired. Like that explained everything.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that knowing look that makes you want to throw the croissant at him.

“I was half-joking,” you continue, bitterly. “The flirting. The offers. The lingerie. All of it—it was funny. It was supposed to be funny.”

“It was never just funny,” Jeonghan says gently.

You sit up, brushing crumbs off your hoodie. “Well, it wasn’t serious, either. Not at first. It was a bit, Han. A way to keep things easy. A way to be close to him without, you know—actually saying it.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “But then it stopped being a bit.”

You press your palms into your eyes, letting the heel of your hand dig into your sockets. “Yeah. And the worst part? He probably still thinks it is. He probably thinks I’m just messing with him for fun. That I never meant any of it.”

Jeonghan leans back in your desk chair, spinning slightly as he crosses one leg over the other. “Well, to be fair… you’ve kind of trained everyone around you to think you’re never serious.”

You shoot him a look.

“I’m not judging!” he says, holding up a hand. “Just saying. You’re always ‘fine.’ Always laughing first. You’ve got more walls than a medieval castle, and all of them are covered in sarcasm and slutty little jokes.”

You give a half-hearted snort. “You say that like it’s a bad strategy.”

“It’s a safe strategy,” he corrects. “Until you actually start feeling something and suddenly no one knows when you’re telling the truth—including him.”

You go quiet. Because he’s right. You’ve been dancing that line for so long, even you stopped knowing when it was real and when it was for the bit. Until now. Until the silence stretched too long and the jokes stopped landing and all you wanted was for him to want you back—not as a punchline, not as part of the game, but really, actually, you.

And he didn’t.

Or maybe he did—but if he did, he’s never going to say it. Never going to risk what you have. You’re always the one pushing. Always the one cracking a joke that skirts too close to the truth. You made it a game so you wouldn’t have to face how much it would hurt to lose.

Now it hurts anyway.

“I feel stupid,” you say softly.

“You’re not,” Jeonghan replies. “You just fell for someone who’s too scared to catch you. That’s not on you.”

You look down at the pastry in your hands, crumbling around the edges. “Then why do I feel like the punchline?”

“Because you’ve been delivering the setup for months,” he says, gently. “And now the joke’s on you.”

You laugh, dry and humorless. “Great. Love that for me.”

Jeonghan reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re not done. You’re just heartbruised.”

“Heartbruised?” you echo.

He shrugs. “It’s like heartbroken, but softer. More recoverable. You’ll bounce back. You always do.” You nod slowly, letting the silence settle for a second.

And then you say, “I’m done flirting with him.”

Jeonghan lifts a brow. “Sure you are.”

“No, seriously. No more jokes. No more lingerie. No more pretending I don’t mean it.”

“Does that mean you're going to tell him you mean it?”

You stare at him. “Absolutely not. Are you insane?”

Jeonghan grins, wide and wicked. “So brave. So emotionally evolved.”

You throw a pillow at him.

But in the quiet that follows, you know it’s true — you’ve been chasing him with jokes and soft threats and wide eyes for months, always giving him the out. Always letting it be just a game. But it was never really one. Not for you.

And maybe now the game’s over. Maybe now you stop playing.

Let him wonder.

Let him miss you.

You’ll be okay. You have to be.

Because at the end of the day, if he never wanted you—not really—then he never deserved the version of you that did.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You ignore it for a second, pretending it’s some promotional email or a text from Jeonghan even though he’s sitting right next to you, elbow-deep in your snack drawer like he lives here. But it buzzes again.

Jeonghan glances over. “That him?”

You don’t answer, just reach for it with a knot already forming in your chest.

«Mingyu»: what’s going on with you?

You stare at the screen. Another buzz.

«Mingyu»: you’ve been weird lately

«Mingyu»: did i do something?

Jeonghan watches you read it. “You gonna respond?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, locking the screen.

“Interesting,” he says, drawing out the word. “Old you would’ve replied with something like ‘what, you miss me?’ or ‘guess you’ll have to come over and find out.’”

You shoot him a look. “Well, old me was an idiot.”

“She was funny, though,” he grins. “And so brave.”

“Shut up.”

You unlock your phone again, read the messages once more. Your fingers hover over the keyboard.

You could say nothing. You could leave it on read, let him stew in it. Let him wonder why the energy shifted and whether or not you’re finally over it. Over him.

Or you could say something real for once.

Something careful. Controlled.

So you type:

«You»: nothing’s going on «You»: just tired

You hit send, then immediately regret it. It’s too vague. Too obvious. Another message pops up almost instantly.

«Mingyu»: you sure?

And then, a beat later:

«Mingyu»: did i fuck something up?

You sigh and set the phone down face-down. Jeonghan’s still watching you, chewing on some expired gummy bears like this is a drama he’s bingeing with snacks.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” he offers, gently.

You roll your eyes. “And say what? ‘Hey, remember all those times I begged you to sleep with me as a joke? Surprise! I wasn’t kidding!’”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Jeonghan says, amused. “Although that would be on-brand.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I need time to think.”

A week passes with you avoiding Mingyu like the plague. He still texts, still worries. At one point you’d almost gone up to him, but then you saw him walking into his dorm with another one-night and realized you couldn’t do this any more. Because seeing him hurt, and you know he’ll never like you back. Not the way you do. So the next time he texts, you don’t ignore him.

«Mingyu»: seriously, you’re worrying me

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering, but you don’t answer. Not yet. Not when everything feels like it’s balancing on the edge of a knife. Not when his name flashing on your screen makes your heart twist. Another text follows.

«Mingyu»: did i do something? «Mingyu»: just tell me, please

You bite the inside of your cheek. The truth is tangled up in too many months of jokes that weren’t really jokes, of sidelong glances and lingering touches passed off as nothing. And now you don’t know how to say it without setting the whole thing on fire. It’s stupid. You were the one who started it. The teasing. The innuendos. The half-drunken dares to “just do it already.” You made it a game. One he never played seriously. And now you’re the one losing. The one hurting. And you look at that cute little sundress hanging in your closet, seeing that little girl you used to be and know you can’t do this any more. For her. For you. You finally respond with a clipped:

«you»: can we talk?

Mingyu opens the door the second you knock, like he was waiting behind it.

His brows are furrowed. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird for days.”

You step inside without answering, your arms folded across your chest like a shield, as if it’ll protect you from what you know is to come.

He closes the door behind you slowly. “Okay… seriously. Talk to me.”

You stare at the floor, the speech you’d planned slipping from your mind the second you open your mouth. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

The words leave your lips quietly, but they echo, soft and brutal.

He freezes. “What?”

You lift your gaze, force yourself to hold his. “I think we should stop being friends.”

Your voice is firmer this time, although there’s a slight waver you can’t shake. But you know you have to do this. For yourself.

His brow furrows deeper. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Yes, it does,” he snaps. “You don’t just say something like that and act like it’s nothing.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You think this isn’t?” he practically scoffs, voice rising.

You wince. “I just—this isn’t good for me anymore, okay? I can’t keep doing this.”

“What does this even mean? What are we doing that’s so bad?”

You hesitate. You know exactly what you mean. But you can’t say it—not the real thing. So instead you deflect. You say something stupid. Something you don’t really mean, not in the way you know it sounds.

“I guess I just got tired of being the only girl you won’t sleep with.”

He stares at you like he’s been slapped.

“…What?” His voice is quiet, stunned.

You look away. “Forget it.”

“No. No, you don’t get to say that and then back out.” He steps forward. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I told you to forget it,” you mutter, panic clawing up your throat.

“So that’s what this is about?” he says, disbelief giving way to anger. “That I haven’t fucked you?”

You don’t answer.

His voice grows louder. “You’re throwing away years of friendship because I didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Don’t twist it like that—”

“I’m not twisting anything. Those were your words.” He gestures at you, furious. “Is that all I am to you? Just someone to chase until you can check me off your list?”

You flinch. “That’s not fair.”

He scoffs. “No, what’s not fair is acting like I did something wrong by treating you with respect. Like me not jumping into bed with you is some personal insult.”

You snap. “You don’t get it!”

“Then explain it! Because right now, all I see is my best friend suddenly treating me like I’m the villain for not screwing her!”

“I never said you were a villain!”

“You didn’t have to! You’re acting like I’ve been stringing you along, like I owe you something I never fucking promised.”

“I didn’t want a promise!” Your voice is shaking. “I just wanted— I just wanted to feel like I wasn’t invisible!”

That stops him. His face falls, just for a second. But it’s too late now. The dam is cracking.

He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “So what? Sleeping together would’ve fixed that?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, turning away.

You see the hurt on his face even as he hides it.

“You’re ruining our friendship because I won’t fuck you? Is that all I am? Just someone to get close to and sleep with just so you can say you did?” His voice is tight now—not just angry, but betrayed.

You flinch. “Of course you aren’t, I…” You trail off.

He stares. “Say it.” His tone is venomous.

Your mouth won’t move. You look at him, and all the things you never wanted him to see are staring back at you through your silence.

His lips press into a line. “That’s what I thought.”

He turns away again—and that’s when the words leap out of you, desperate and raw:

“I’m in love with you!”

The world freezes, silence extending. His shoulders tense as he slowly turns back, eyes full of so many emotions you can’t tell what he’s thinking. His breath is labored and the dam inside you finally breaks.

“I didn’t know,” you say, voice cracking, barely holding together. “Not at first. It was just flirting, right? Dumb jokes about hooking up, just to see you roll your eyes or laugh. That was all it was. Just teasing.”

You laugh, but it’s hollow and bitter and it hurts.

“Then you hooked up with that girl from the party, and I told myself it was fine. What right did I have to be jealous when you were never even mine? But I went home that night and I couldn’t breathe, even though I knew I shouldn’t be upset, laid in bed and just kept asking myself. Why not me? What’s wrong with me?”

You suck in a breath, but it doesn’t help, “That’s when it started. That voice. It wouldn’t shut up. It told me I must be disgusting. Unappealing. Something you’d never even consider. Not even drunk. Not even if there’s no one else. I got so desperate to feel wanted I even asked Jeonghan to sleep with me, and you know what he said? He said he wasn’t what I wanted. Because he knew. Before I did, he knew.”

Your hands shake.

You press them against your sides like you’re holding yourself together. “And I kept making the jokes, brushing off what he’d said. Kept acting like I didn’t care. Because if I stopped laughing, you’d see the truth—and I was so scared of what you’d do with it. Would you pity me? Would you leave?”

Your voice breaks entirely. “I didn’t realize I loved you until I was already drowning in it. And by then, I couldn’t look at myself without hearing all the things I’m not. Not pretty enough. Not desirable. Not lovable. Just the friend you joked with, because that’s all I’d ever be. A joke.”

You let out a breath that sounds like a sob. “Because you said no. Every time. And I know you weren’t trying to hurt me—god, I know you’d never. You were being nice. Gentle. That’s what made it worse. You cared. Just not like that. So I twisted it around in my head. Tried to tell myself you were being noble. Or cautious. Or waiting. But deep down, I started to believe the truth. That I could never be enough for you.” Your eyes sting, but you don’t wipe them. “And now… now I finally admitted all that to myself, and it’s breaking me every time I see you. ”

You finally meet his eyes, and it feels like standing naked in the cold. “I’m not mad at you. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just so tired of feeling so… worthless. I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just… I couldn’t carry it anymore. Pretending I was okay. Pretending I didn’t only ever feel whole when I’m near you. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

His eyes search yours, and for a moment you think maybe—maybe—he’s going to close the space between you. Say something, anything, that will make it hurt less.

But instead, his jaw clenches. His voice comes out low. Controlled. Too controlled.

“You should’ve told me.”

You look away, feeling the guilt crawl up your throat. “I’m telling you now.”

“No.” He shakes his head, bitter. “Not now. Not after all this. Not after you turned it into a fight.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.” He takes a step back like he needs distance. “You came in here ready to cut me out. Not because I hurt you. Not because I did anything wrong. But because I didn’t love you back fast enough.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracks around the edges. “You could’ve said something. Anything. But instead, you turned it into some fucked-up test and waited for me to fail.”

You freeze. “It wasn’t a test.”

“No?” He laughs bitterly. “You knew how I was. You know what I’m like with girls. You joked about it every chance you got. But the second I didn’t want to be that with you—suddenly I’m the asshole?”

“You’re not an asshole,” you whisper.

“But I’m still the guy you can’t even be friends with. That’s what you said.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Yes, you did.” His voice sharpens. “You meant it exactly like that. You wanted me to hurt the way you were hurting. You wanted me to feel guilty.”

Tears prick at your eyes again. “No, I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve trusted me.” His hands drop to his sides. “You could’ve just… been honest.”

“I was scared,” you admit, and your voice shakes with the weight of it, “I am scared.”

He looks at you for a long moment. “Of me?”

“No.” You swallow. “Of me. Of not being enough. Of finding out that even if I tried… even if I gave you everything, you still wouldn’t want me.”

Silence stretches between you, sharp and heavy.

Then, quietly, “You don’t get to decide what I would’ve wanted,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “You never gave me the chance.”

He looks like he wants to say more—needs to say more—but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at you like he doesn’t even recognize you anymore. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair again, but this time it trembles slightly, like the adrenaline's wearing off and all that's left is the raw aftermath.

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” he murmurs.

You nod slowly, tears welling up again. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t come here expecting—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice thick. “Don’t act like this was some noble confession. You didn’t come here to just tell me. You came here to end it.”

You flinch because you know he’s not wrong.

He steps back again, arms folding like he's trying to hold himself together now. “You said you wanted to stop being friends. That was the decision you made before I even knew what was happening.”

“I thought it’d be easier,” you say, and you hate how broken it sounds.

“Easier for who?” he snaps. “You think it’s easy for me to watch you walk away? To hear you say all this and know there’s nothing I can do to make it better?”

Your lip trembles. “I just couldn’t take it any more and I didn’t want to make it your problem.”

He looks at you, incredulous. “I’m your best friend. I thought I was, anyway. Of course it’s my problem.”

You say nothing, because what is there to say?

“And for the record,” he adds, quieter now, “you were never invisible to me. Not once.”

You finally look up. “Then why…”

“Because you matter too much!” he says, his voice splintering. “Because I didn’t want to mess it up. I’ve messed up every relationship I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to ruin you too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever cared about enough to not touch.”

Your breath catches as you look at him, heart clawing up your throat.

“And maybe I was stupid for thinking I could keep you close without eventually losing you.” His voice is bitter now, but more toward himself than you. “Maybe I should’ve known it’d end like this.”

You take a hesitant step forward. “Mingyu…”

But he steps back. “Don’t.”

The word is soft, but final.

“I don’t hate you,” he says after a long beat, eyes red-rimmed. “I don’t think I could. But I’m angry. And I’m hurt. And I don’t know what the hell to do with any of this right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never meant for it to happen like this.”

He gives you a broken, sad smile. “Yeah. Me neither.”

There’s another silence. One that feels different than all the others. Colder. Empty.

Finally, he walks past you, opens the door.

You don’t move.

“I think you should go,” he says, not looking at you.

And even though your heart is screaming, you nod. Because you knew this was coming. Hell, this is what you came here to do. But not like this. Nothing like this.

You walk out the door, and he doesn’t stop you.

You don’t remember how you got home.

One minute, you were in Mingyu’s apartment, heart in pieces at your feet. The next, you were on the street—walking, stumbling, maybe running. You’re not sure. The rain had started somewhere in between, soaking through your clothes, making it easier to hide your tears. Not that you tried.

You don’t remember texting Jeonghan, either.

But you must’ve, because he’s standing in your doorway by the time you get there, already holding your spare key. His brows are drawn tight with worry. “Jesus,” he breathes. “You look like hell.”

You try to speak, but your voice breaks. He doesn’t ask anything else. Just pulls you inside with a hand on your back and shuts the door gently behind you.

Ten minutes later, you’re in dry clothes—his hoodie, your sweats—and he’s sitting beside you on the couch, watching you like you might shatter if he blinks too hard.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “tell me what happened.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I told him.”

His voice softens. “Mingyu?”

You nod. “Everything. I told him I loved him.”

There’s a pause. Jeonghan leans back, breath whistling between his teeth. “And?”

You look at him, eyes red and raw. “He got mad.”

Jeonghan blinks. “Mad?”

You nod again, harder this time, like it’ll make it make more sense. “I told him I didn’t think we should be friends anymore. And he kept asking why, and I… I panicked. I said something awful. I told him I was tired of being the only girl he wouldn’t sleep with.”

Jeonghan winces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, repeating what he’d told you after. You bite your lip hard, the echo of those words still fresh, like they’re etched on your skin.

Jeonghan runs a hand down his face, listening worried but obviously frustrated.

“I told him that wasn’t what I meant, but it was too late. He was so hurt. He was furious. And I just… I couldn’t stop. The words just kept coming. Then I told him I was in love with him.”

Jeonghan’s face softens, but not with pity—more like heartbreak on your behalf.

“And then he told me to leave,” you continue. “That I never gave him a chance and that he needed time. That he didn’t know what to do. So I left and now we’re here.”

Jeonghan is quiet for a long moment.

“Okay, yeah. That’s a fucking mess.”

You laugh bitterly. “Thanks.”

“I mean it kindly.” He shifts, turning to face you. “You didn’t hold back, huh?”

You shake your head. “Couldn’t.”

He sighs. “Look. I get it. Emotions are hard. But imagine from his perspective. You said something that sounded like a slap, and then you dropped a love confession on top of it. What did you think he was gonna do?”

“I didn’t think.” You stare down at your hands. “I was so scared he’d say he didn’t feel the same that I tried to end it before he could reject me. And when he got mad, I told myself it was what I deserved.”

Jeonghan swears under his breath. “Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He gives you a sharp look. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you nuked a bridge because you were too scared to walk across it.”

You flinch. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But neither was what you did to him.”

You bury your face in your knees.

After a moment, Jeonghan’s voice softens. “You really love him, huh?”

You nod without looking up. “So much it makes me hate myself.”

He’s quiet. Then, almost too gently, “Then you’re gonna have to clean this up.”

“How?” you whisper.

“Hell if I know, but start by being honest. Stop trying to protect your pride. You already burned it down. Go back and tell him everything again. But this time, don’t lead with guilt or anger. Just tell the truth.”

You look up at him, voice small. “What if he doesn’t want to hear it?”

Jeonghan meets your eyes. “Then at least you’ll know. But don’t let the last thing he remembers be that fight. Don’t let that be the last thing you remember.”

Your heart aches. You nod slowly.

He pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself fall into it. His hand rubs slow circles on your back.

“And next time,” he murmurs, “maybe don’t start the conversation by implying your best friend’s dick was the missing puzzle piece in your emotional breakdown.”

You groan into his chest. “I know.”

He chuckles into your hair. “God, you’re a disaster.”

You fall asleep on the couch, your face puffy and tight from crying, but your chest just a little looser—like the grief finally has somewhere to go.

When you wake, the sky is gray through the window, soft and overcast. Jeonghan’s draped a blanket over you, left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you, and disappeared into the kitchen, humming faintly to himself.

You sit up slowly, the events of the night before crashing back into your head like a wave you barely brace for.

“I should text him,” you say aloud.

Jeonghan appears in the doorway with a mug in his hand, one brow lifted. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I imploded all over you, wanna circle back?’”

You throw a pillow at him, a habit you realize you do way too much. He dodges, smug.

You sigh. “I don’t even know what to say, but I can’t just leave it here.”

Jeonghan walks over and hands you the mug—it’s tea, still warm. “Then don’t text yet. Think about what you actually want. Do you want to apologize? Explain? Ask for something?”

“I want him to know the truth.”

“He already does.”

“Then I want him to understand it.”

Jeonghan settles into the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. “Then don’t text. Talk to him. In person.”

You shrink. “I don’t think I can face him yet.”

“I’m not saying today.” He pauses. “But eventually, you’ll have to. Because if you don’t, all this?” He gestures vaguely. “It just becomes the story you never got to finish.”

You stare into your tea. “What if he never wants to talk to me again?”

“Then that’s on him,” Jeonghan says gently. “You can’t control that. But you can make sure the version he remembers isn’t the worst one.”

You nod slowly, his words settling like stones in your gut.

Jeonghan gently rests a hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t ruin everything. Not yet.”

You clutch the mug tighter. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe me.” He leans forward. “You said something shitty. He got hurt. But that’s not the end. It only stays broken if you leave it there.”

You bite your lip. “Do you think he’ll ever look at me the same again?”

Jeonghan tilts his head. “No.”

Your heart twists.

But then he adds, “He’ll either look at you and see the one who broke his heart… or the one who was brave enough to hand hers to him.”

You sit on the couch long after the tea goes cold, phone in your lap, your thumbs hovering above the screen. Every version of the message you think of sounds wrong. Too heavy. Too light. Too desperate. Too detached.

But eventually, you settle on the truth.

You type slowly, carefully. No overthinking this time. No jokes to soften the blow. Just your heart, finally laid bare.

«you»: I know you said you need time, and I’ll respect that. I won’t push, but when you’re ready, if you’re ready, I’ll be here.

You read it over once, then again. It still makes your stomach twist, but this time, not from fear. From finality. You press send.

The message delivers.

You stare at the screen for a long minute, hoping it’ll light up with a reply. It doesn’t. You didn’t expect it to.

Jeonghan comes back in with a slice of toast in his mouth and a second plate in his hand. “You do it?”

You nod, eyes still on your phone. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He sits beside you, offering you half of his toast. “Now you wait. And we eat carbs.”

You take the toast. You don’t feel better. But you don’t feel worse, either.

It’s been weeks.

You’ve replayed every second of that fight in your mind more times than you can count. Sometimes you wonder if he’s forgotten you completely. Sometimes you wish you could forget him.

But tonight, curled up in bed with a movie playing quietly in the background, your phone lights up.

«Mingyu»: Café del Sol

«Mingyu»: Tomorrow 3pm

You panic. Your heart is loud in your ears as you try to form a response, eventually settling on a thumbs up reaction, not knowing what else to put.

The next day arrives like a held breath.

You barely sleep the night before. Your stomach is in knots, your hands shaking every time you think about what might happen. What he’ll say. If he’ll even show up.

But when you push open the door to Café del Sol at 2:58 p.m., he’s already there.

He’s sitting at a table by the window, two drinks in front of him—one of them your usual. His fingers drum anxiously on the cup, and he looks up the second the door opens, like he’s been watching for you.

Your heart stutters.

You walk over slowly, like one wrong step might send the whole moment crashing down. He stands as you approach, uncertain, like he doesn’t know if he should hug you or just nod.

You don’t hug. You don’t do anything. Just sit.

There’s a long pause, thick with all the things still unspoken.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says eventually.

“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you answer.

He nods slowly. “I wasn’t going to. At first.”

You look down, then up again. “Thank you. For asking.”

“I didn’t do it to be nice,” he says. “I did it because I don’t want this hanging between us forever.”

You nod. “Neither do I.”

He watches you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s still figuring out how he feels. Then he breaks the silence, voice small.

“You really meant it?”

You blink. “Which part?”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Your breath catches. “Oh. That. Yeah. I meant it.”

He nods, eyes flicking down to his hands. “And everything else?”

You hesitate. “I wish I’d said it better. But yeah, that too.”

He leans back in his chair. Runs a hand through his hair. You notice the faint dark circles under his eyes—like you’re not the only one who’s been losing sleep.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel,” he says finally. “Because everything happened so fast. One second you’re my best friend, and the next… it felt like I didn’t even know you.”

“I know.”

“I liked you before you even figured it out,” he says suddenly. His eyes are steady, serious. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

You look up, startled. “What do you mean?”

He exhales. “I told myself I didn’t want to ruin what we had. That I didn’t want to cross any lines. But the truth? I didn’t want to let myself want you because the second I did, I knew I’d fall.”

Your heart stumbles.

“Mingyu—”

He keeps going, like he needs to get it out. “You make everything brighter. Easier. And I told myself that was enough. Just being near you. But then it got harder. Because I’d catch myself staring too long. Laughing too much. Wondering what your lips would feel like against mine. Wondering what would happen if I gave in. If I give in now.”

Your breath hitches as silence falls again. But this one feels warmer. Like the tide has shifted.

You whisper, “Are you saying you—”

“I’m saying I don’t want to lose you.” He swallows. “And I think… I know I love you too. I just didn’t want to admit it until you were walking out my door.”

You blink hard. “Mingyu…”

He gives a small, broken laugh. “God, we’re such idiots.”

You smile, watery. “We really are.”

A long moment passes, and then—carefully, slowly—he reaches across the table and takes your hand. His thumb brushes your knuckles, and it feels like the first real breath you’ve taken in days.

“I’m still mad,” he says gently. “Still hurt.”

“I know.”

“But I’m willing to try,” he says, “if you are.”

You nod, tears in your eyes again—but this time they feel different. “I want to.”

He squeezes your hand. “Then we start there.”

The two of you sit there, hands clasped between coffee cups and apologies, hearts still bruised but beating in sync again. And for the first time in weeks, the silence feels like peace.