Song Mingi’s lover

When you did finally drag yourself out of bed, still half asleep and grumbling to yourself about the inconvenience, it was in baggy sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt, your hair tied up into a bun. 

Creaking open the door to your bedroom, you watched him momentarily. He didn’t notice the disturbance, just remained locked into the game, lighting up bright colors and explosions on your television. 

Your fingers easily found the spot they always managed to settle on your face when he was around, pinching the bridge of your nose in stress. 

One of your mugs sat on the coffee table in front of him, filled to the brim. You ignored the problem at hand, the man intruding on your living room before noon without your permission, for the second, or maybe third time that week, and walked toward the coffee maker instead. 

He didn’t acknowledge you as you passed, his eyes instead remaining laser-focused on the screen. You didn’t speak either, hoping that maybe if you continued to ignore him, he’d go away. Though, based on past encounters, it never really worked out that way. Though a girl could dream. 

Pulling down a mug from the cabinet, you attempted to place it carefully on the counter before you, tempering your anger. It didn’t matter anyway, even if you slammed the thing down so hard it shattered into pieces, he still probably wouldn’t have looked up. 

It was when you reached out for the coffee pot, hand just barely touching the handle, that the anger bubbled over. 

You whipped around, coffee pot in hand, face screwed up into a scowl that only Jeong Yunho could produce. “Are you serious?” you asked, raising the coffee pot above your head, directing that scowl in his direction—not that he even looked up to see it. 

He was too locked into whatever video game he busied himself playing on your PlayStation. It drove you over the edge, how little regard he had for you. How he used your apartment like a landing ground, a place to escape—and then dared to ignore you while inside it. 

You walked around the counter, coffee pot still in hand, and stopped in front of the television with your arms outstretched. “Earth to fucking Yunho—what are you doing here?” 

You knew the answer before you asked, knew why he was there based on the sheer lack of sleep you’d gotten during the night. 

He shifted to the side in an attempt to see the screen behind you, but you moved with him, waving your arms to get in the way as much as possible. Finally, with a groan and a roll of his eyes—like you were inconveniencing him—he set down the controller. 

With his attention free, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His legs were spread, and he took up way more space than he needed to. 

His eyes dragged over you slowly, making a show out of looking at you. It made you squirm in a self-conscious kind of way. The kind of way that also made you want to chuck something at his head.

With a lazy smile, he finally leaned forward again, balancing elbows on the tops of his thighs. “Good morning to you, too,” he said. 

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to keep yourself from screaming at him this early in the morning. “You know, if you’re going to use my apartment as a hideout, the least you could do is save me some fucking coffee.” 

You had to admit—you understood why his apartment had a constant stream of one-night stands filing in at night and out in the morning. He had this way of looking at someone like they were the only person in the entire universe, like nothing else mattered. He looked at you like that, now. All attentive eyes and half-quirked up lips. 

“Your charm doesn’t work on me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Because it didn’t. All that charm, it was nice. There were split seconds where you understood, sure. But that feeling always passed even faster when you remembered every other thing about him. 

“Not sure about that,” he teased. It was always this push and pull. Him trying to get under your skin, and you always reacting. 

You pushed past the teasing because you just couldn’t deal with his entire personality that early in the morning. Instead, you got back to the matter at hand. “Is she still in there?” you asked, placing the empty coffee pot down on the table in front of you, simply so you could cross your arms. 

Yunho shrugged, accentuating his uncertainty with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “Why don’t you go over and find out?” 

“We’re not doing this,” you said, looking at him with that same pointed expression. 

“Doing what?” he asked, mocking ignorance. 

This would not be the first time, nor the second, nor the third that you’d provided Jeong Yunho with this kind of turn-down service. The first had been a mistake. Knocking on his door to ream him out for being loud throughout the night. The second time he’d tricked you, asked you to come over. And the third, well, it went something like this. 

“We’re not friends. This is not something I just do for you,” you said. “And stop letting yourself into my apartment.” 

“So, are you going to do it, or?” Yunho asked, one brow raised, and you knew he wasn’t planning on relenting. No, he would be insufferable about it until you gave in. He was always stronger-willed than you in that matter—more stubborn. More annoying. 

“Make some coffee,” you said. It was in exasperation that you turned and stormed out, choosing to face the innocent woman left behind in his apartment rather than continuing to have this conversation. Plus, if there was anything you’d learned, it was that once you’d scared her away, he’d leave, too. 

You didn’t understand why he did it. The whole one-night stand after one-night stand thing. He was charming enough, and any of the many girls you’d kicked out of his apartment probably would have made for a great long-term partner. Even just a situationship. It was his biggest red flag. The thing that turned you off. But you got it, too. Because if he didn’t live next door, if you didn’t get to witness the parade and the payoff, you would probably fall for his tricks and charms just as easily. 

But you’d seen the man behind the curtain. You knew the game. And so you knew, too, that he didn’t give a single fuck about any of those women. Not even enough to reject them himself. 

Even though it wasn’t the first time you’d done this, it still felt strange. Pretending. You knocked on the door. Crossed your arms over your chest. Tapped your foot. Directed the annoyance you felt toward Yunho into pretend anger. 

Someone did, inevitably, answer the door. 

“Hey bab—” the woman started. She had long black hair and warm brown eyes. She wore a long button-up shirt that stopped above her knees. Yunho’s. You witnessed the slow furrow of her brow as she put together the situation before you started whatever badly performed rant you chose this time. 

You scrunched your face up to match, mock irritation appearing in the creases at the corner of your eyes, the slight scowl of your lips. 

“Who are you?” the girl asked. It was always their first question, and sometimes you even felt bad about having to crush their dreams—you shattered the ideal image they had of Yunho in their heads, before he could find a way to do it themselves. You framed them as a mistress, the other half of a cheater. 

Why couldn’t he just reject them himself? Wouldn’t everyone leave with more dignity in that circumstance? You and whatever girl he’d involved included?

But you stood firm, trying to imagine what it would feel like to show up at your boyfriend’s apartment only for the door to be answered by another woman. 

“I’m Yunho’s girlfriend,” you said. You’d said it before. It still felt strange. A label you would never want to have. Probably because it would land you in a situation too close to this one. “Who are you?” you asked. 

“I’m—uh,” the girl said. You didn’t stay to listen, instead pushing past her into the apartment, looking for your cheating boyfriend. It was enough to send her into high gear, throwing her clothes back on and ducking out the front door before you could so much as turn around. 

Once she was gone, you took your time leaving. There was nothing interesting in his apartment, no secrets to glean by snooping. For the most part, he was an open book. All games and pick-up lines, without any actual substance. 

You headed back to your apartment. Yunho stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, waiting for the pot of coffee to brew. 

“She’s gone,” you said. 

He chuckled under his breath, like he couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. The first time, you’d both had a laugh about the situation. The incidental scaring off of the woman he’d invited over. It wasn’t as funny anymore. At least not to you. 

You studied him, watching his face for any shred of emotion, finding none. He truly didn’t care about these women or what happened to them after they left his apartment. It wasn’t like he’d speak to them again, so why would it matter how things ended? 

“Come on,” Yunho said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you said. But you could feel the scowl, still pressed into your features. Disgust. 

He took a step forward, towering over you and craning his neck to meet your eyes. He loved getting into your personal space, like he was trying to figure you out just the same. But if he wouldn’t give away any shred of his real personality, then neither would you. 

He was just an annoyance. A neighbor who thought the two of you were friends. That didn’t mean you actually had to be his friend. 

“Well,” he said. “Say it.” His head tilted slightly to the side, waiting for whatever opinion you so clearly wanted to share regarding his dating habits. 

“You should go home,” you said, instead. “Thanks to you and your little house guest, I didn’t get any sleep last night—and I have to work later.” 

This made him smirk, a slow crawl across his lips as he enjoyed the thought of you listening. It wasn’t that you wanted to listen—because of course you didn’t. But he made it difficult. Your bedrooms shared a wall, and it wasn’t exactly thick. 

“Don’t start,” you said, stopping whatever thought process was going on behind his eyes, whatever words he was planning on using to get even further under your skin. 

He took the hint, holding his hands up in defense. He stepped away from you, taking out the full coffee pot to fill both of your mugs. He scooped one spoonful of sugar into his own mug, stirring it a few times before grabbing the mug and walking out of the kitchen. “Have a good day at work,” he said, before the door to your apartment opened and closed. 

“I just don’t understand what his problem is,” you said, standing behind the bar, mixing a drink. Jihyo sat across from you, nursing the first drink you’d made for her. It was a quiet Thursday night, so for the most part, your bar was occupied by friends and a few other regulars who didn’t require that much attention. 

It was Wooyoung who responded. “Maybe he likes you,” he said. It wouldn’t be the first time this idea was floated by the board. But it only earned an eye roll from both you and Jihyo, who refused to believe this asinine idea. “It’s guy logic,” Wooyoung said. 

“Maybe you should move,” Jihyo suggested. 

You pointed a finger at her, but looked at Wooyoung. “Now these are the types of solutions I’m looking for.” You laughed. “Maybe I should move.” 

Wooyoung and Jihyo have been your best friends for ages, ever since college. They’ve been there for you throughout more challenging circumstances than just Yunho. If anyone were going to help you get through this, it would be them. 

“You can’t move,” Wooyoung pointed out. “Your place is too nice.” 

You’d talked in this circle with them countless times before. There was no obvious solution, aside from putting up with him. 

“I could threaten to call the police,” you suggested. “Next time he shows up in my apartment.” You placed the finished drink on the counter in front of Wooyoung, taking his empty glass. 

Jihyo pressed a finger to her lips. “Or,” she said. “You could lock your door.”

“I do lock my door,” you said. “He just knows where I keep the spare.”

“Okay, so hide the spare somewhere else,” Wooyoung said. 

“I’ve tried that,” you said. 

“Do you really need the spare?” Wooyoung asked. 

“You made me get one,” you said, pointedly. “When I kept locking myself out.” 

“Right, yeah,” he said. “You could give your backup to Jihyo instead—then there’s no Yunho problem, and I don’t have to worry about you calling me at two in the morning when you lock yourself out.” 

Jihyo said, “No, no,” with a wag of her finger. 

With a sigh, you picked up a collection of shot glasses, placing them on the bar between the three of you. They both had regular people jobs—i.e., ones that required them to be up early the next day, but neither did they protest when you started filling the glasses. 

Just as you filled the last of the three, the bell atop the front door chimed. Pushing open the door was the topic of conversation himself. He wore a black leather jacket, snow dusting the tops of his shoulders. His cheeks were a soft pink from the cold, and his eyes found yours immediately from across the room. 

His pleased smile was met by yet another scowl on your end. He closed the distance between the door and the bar in only a few steps, coming up behind Jihyo and Wooyoung. He reached forward and took Wooyoung’s shot as you pushed it forward. 

Wooyoung looked at you, brows drawn together in shared annoyance. You and Jihyo already had your glasses raised, and Yunho was quick to join in on the cheers he hadn’t been invited to participate in. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. He just raised the shot to his lips, tipping it back and swallowing the clear liquid as if it were water. 

You watched in stunned shock. 

“Damn,” Yunho said. “You’re hanging out without me?” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a second, trying to process the situation, trying to figure out what words to say aloud without coming off like a complete and total asshole. 

Jihyo took the lead instead. “Why would we invite you?” she asked, a pretty smile appearing on her lips. One that might have looked harmless to an outsider, but you know meant I’ll fucking kill you. 

Yunho placed a hand on his chest. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“You’re delusional,” you said. 

He lifted his eyes to yours and smiled warmly, like he really was that delusional. You poured Wooyoung another shot, holding it while you waited for Yunho to sit anywhere else. Of course, he didn’t, instead opting to sit on the other side of Jihyo, who promptly turned her back to face Wooyoung completely. 

You put the replacement in Wooyoung’s waiting hands.

Just as you were raising the shot glasses, Yunho cleared his throat. “Can I get something to drink, beautiful?” He had one arm on the counter, and he leaned forward over it, looking at you with those big brown eyes. You might even be attracted to him if he weren’t so god damn annoying. 

You ignored him, instead, looking back to your friends. Your shot glasses clinked in the center before you all threw them back. 

“Why is he here?” Jihyo asked in a low voice. 

“He can hear you,” Yunho quipped, and you could hear the smirk in his tone without even looking in his direction. “And this is a public bar. You do know that, right?” 

Jihyo pressed her lips into a tight line, glaring at you because she refused to turn around and glare at the source of the problem. 

“What do you want to drink, Yunho?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and attempting to press a smile to your lips. It was your job, after all, to provide good customer service. You couldn’t be the one asking him why he was there or what he wanted from you. At least not when you were on the clock. You would leave those questions to Jihyo and Wooyoung. 

“Do you know how to make an Old Fashioned?” Yunho asked. 

Jihyo did whip around to face him, then. “She’s a bartender, you idiot. She knows how to make an Old Fashioned.” 

That same slow smile crept across his lips. “You’re pretty when you’re mad,” he said, eliciting an immediate groan from Jihyo. 

“Oh my god,” she said. “What is your problem?” 

You looked to Wooyoung, who attempted to hide a laugh with his hand. This was pretty much how it went whenever the three of you were together. You and Wooyoung stopping Jihyo from getting into yelling matches with whoever didn’t agree with her. It was charming, in its own way. 

“It’s fine,” you said, not wanting to make a scene in front of the four other customers in the bar. “Just ignore him. I do.”

You started making the Old Fashion instead, letting Wooyoung and Jihyo get back to their own conversation. All the while, feeling Yunho’s eyes trailing your hands, watching your movements. 

Maybe Jihyo saw your cheeks turning red, or maybe she was just really curious about your love life, because she diverted the conversation away from Yunho, distracting you from his watchful eyes in one swoop. “How are things going with Hongjoong?” she asked. 

You placed the drink in front of Yunho, saying, “Oh, yeah. They’re good,” while making direct eye contact. There was something quizzical in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t ask, and he didn’t voice whatever question it was that plagued his brain. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“Third date, right?” Jihyo asked. 

“Mhm,” you said. 

“I hope he puts out,” Wooyoung said, and Yunho choked on his sip, setting the glass down to cough into the collar of his jacket, hiding the redness blooming on his cheeks. 

Your eyes widened at Wooyoung, a pointed glare. 

“What?” he said, unsure why you were looking at him like that. “You’re the one who said it had been a while—”

Jihyo elbowed him in the stomach, and that was the end of that conversation. 

You printed out Yunho’s receipt and placed it on the table in front of him without meeting his eyes. 

“Actually, can I start a tab?” he asked. 

You grabbed the receipt, crumpling it into a ball. Through gritted teeth, you said, “Of course,” taking his card out of his outstretched hand. 

Customers thinned out one at a time for the next several hours, with Jihyo and Wooyoung finally departing a little bit before midnight. But Yunho stayed. 

At 1am, he was still there, watching you clean up from across the bar. 

“So,” he started. 

You threw your head back in exasperation, even though the conversation had hardly begun. You just knew, because it was Yunho, that it was going to be exhausting. 

“You’re dating,” he said. 

It wasn’t what you expected, and it caught you off guard. The way he said it so casually, aloud to the empty bar.

“Is there something strange about that to you?” you asked. “Me dating?” You tried not to go on the defensive. But there was something so inherently cutting about the way he’d said it. Like he couldn’t believe it. Did he think there was something wrong with you? Something fundamentally unlikable? Or were you just projecting?

“No,” he said. “Of course not.”

Silence. Deafening. Your ears had a heartbeat. 

“So, it’s been a while…?” he asked, and that stupid fucking smirk reappeared on his lips, like he was proud of something. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. 

“You know, if you don’t remember how to do it, I can give you a crash course,” Yunho suggested, leaning back in his seat. 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” 

You took your phone out to check the time, waiting for the numbers to flip forward just enough. When they did, you smiled. “Sorry, we’re actually closed.” You turned to face the register, printing out his receipt. You placed it in a book, then in front of him. 

“You want a ride home?” he asked. 

You couldn’t help the look of surprise that appeared on your face. 

“What?” he asked. “I’m a gentleman.” 

“You are not.” 

“Just because you don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m not charming,” he said. “So, do you want a ride home or not? It’s cold.” 

He signed the receipt and closed the book. 

You shook your head. “No,” you said. It sounded too firm. “Thanks,” you tacked on. You’d face whatever winter weather you had to in order to get home without his help. 

Yunho stood up, and for some reason, you watched him. You always forgot how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, until he was standing in front of you. He tossed his leather jacket back on, shoved his hands into his pockets, and left without another word. 

You followed, locking the door behind him. Then, finishing your tasks, you grabbed the book off the counter and pulled out his receipt. On the few drinks he’d ordered, he tipped nearly thirty dollars. And there was a note scrawled across the bottom, too. Sorry for being an ass. You looked at it for a while before putting the tip into the system, storing the receipt, and shutting everything down. 

It was a short walk between the bar and your apartment. Only about ten minutes. There was never any point in getting a car. On weekend nights, you could always count on Jihyo or Wooyoung to bring you home. Other nights, the walk wasn’t so bad. Besides, you kept pepper spray and a knife close at hand in case anyone dared try something with you. It wasn’t masked murderers in the middle of the night that caused a problem, though. 

It was the torrential downpour that came on like a light switch, drenching you in ice-cold rain in seconds. You held one arm above your head as you walked, but it barely shielded you from the storm. 

There were hardly any cars on the road, so when a motorcycle pulled up next to you, you were fairly certain you were about to be kidnapped. 

So when the rider took off his helmet and extended it to you, revealing a quickly drenched Yunho, you couldn’t keep the shock from your face. 

“Come on,” he said. “Get on.” 

“What?” you asked, because your brain wasn’t exactly functioning properly. You didn’t even know he had a motorcycle, and you certainly weren’t going to get on the back of it. 

“Come on,” he said again. “It’s pouring. You’ve made it ten feet. Let me take you home.”

You hated the way he said it, but your clothes were getting heavier as he spoke, so you stepped forward and took it. 

“Isn’t it dangerous?” you asked. “You don’t have another helmet?” 

He shook his head, freeing some of the wet hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Stop talking,” he said. “Just get on.” 

You swung a leg over, keeping your distance from him. “What—how do I?” you asked. 

“Hold on to me,” he said. You hesitated. “Just do it, it’s pouring, if you haven’t noticed, and I’d like to get going.” 

You scooted forward and placed your hands delicately on the sides of his body. One hand at a time, he pulled you forward even more, putting each of your palms on his chest. “You’re such a baby,” he said. “Just hold on to me.” 

“Fine,” you grumbled, pressing your body against his. You hated how large he felt. His back was wide and strong, and his chest felt warm underneath your hands. 

Before you could think about how much you liked being close to him, he started driving. You hardly even had time to worry about him driving without a helmet in the rain before you were pulling into the apartment complex’s garage. 

You were still clutching his chest when he said, “You can let go.” 

“Oh,” you said, not loud enough to be heard through the helmet. You did, however, jump away from him, pulling your arms back and scooting backward before clambering off the bike altogether. 

Your heart raced, and a clamminess had settled on your skin beneath all the layers of drenched clothing. When your hands touched his body—even through his clothes, it felt like being electrocuted. No reason for that could be justified by hatred. But you hated it, still. That he was so hot that just touching him made your body react. You convinced yourself it was purely animalistic. That how much you hated him couldn’t negate how attractive he was. It made you hate him more. 

He turned off the bike and swung a leg over to stand up, reaching a hand out to you. You stared at it for a second too long. “The helmet,” he said. 

Right, you thought. What was making your brain lag behind? Why couldn’t you fucking think straight? Surely it couldn’t be the dripping wet 6’1” man in front of you. 

You took the helmet off and handed it to him. He secured it on the back of the bike, then lifted his hands to grasp his shirt, twisting it. Water fell in droplets onto the floor between you, but your eyes lingered on the patch of exposed skin, the curve of a few abs under the thin shirt. You could barely even process the fact that you were looking, let alone that he looked good. It was only when he cleared his throat that your eyes flicked up to meet his and that stupid smirk that never seemed to fade fully. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said abruptly before taking a few quick steps away toward the elevator. Unfortunately, he followed, slipping inside before the doors could budge. 

Right, you wanted to say. We’re neighbors. At least you wouldn’t have to listen to him engaging in his usual extracurricular activities that night. Unless he magically found some way to get a girl back to his place in the middle of the night. Maybe he could summon one from the internet with the power of dating apps. You didn’t know how he did it, anyway. 

The elevator immediately felt small, the ride up to your floor longer than it had ever been. Every time you looked up, he was trying to find your eyes, watching you intently. But neither did he say anything—and of course, you kept quiet too. Kept actively trying not to look at him. But you were curious, and you couldn’t help yourself sometimes. Because who was this man? This man who grated on your nerves and got under your skin and was so god damn annoying, but also left you big tips with nice notes and drove you home from work in the rain? This man who was absolutely gorgeous, whose body you wanted to touch again?

“You seem like you’re panicking,” he said.

“What?” you asked, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He leaned casually against the railing in the elevator, watching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’m not panicking. Why would I be panicking?” you asked, but it was immediately too defensive, too much talking. 

He raised a brow, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Right,” he said. “All things someone who isn’t panicking would say.” He kicked off the wall, striding toward you, only to stop a few inches short. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Just trying to figure you out,” he said. 

“I don’t need figuring out,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked. He reached out, then, because he couldn’t help it. Because he wanted to touch you. His hand skimmed your bicep, and you shivered. He leaned forward. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” 

“Yes,” you said, through gritted teeth, trying to sound as sure of yourself as you possibly could. 

This only elicited a smile and a dry laugh from Yunho. “You don’t sound sure.” 

“I could kiss you, and I would still feel absolutely nothing,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. Who was he to question your feelings, especially when all you’d ever given him were snarky comments and sass? Did he think a few longing looks at his abs equated true desire?

“Prove it,” he said. 

“What?” 

“Kiss me,” he said. 

Later that night, when you struggled to sleep—you’d argue with yourself about the reasons. You’d say it was a matter of impulse. A desire to prove him wrong. But there would be something in the back of your head, too, a nagging, whispering like the devil on your shoulder—you did it because you wanted to. 

When you stepped forward and stood on your toes, you weren’t thinking about any of that. 

It was a challenge, and you weren’t one to back down. Simple as that. 

The kiss started soft. Yunho took a moment to react, his lips still against yours for only a second before he stepped forward into you, forcing you backward into the wall. His hands moved, first grabbing your upper arms, then the sides of your face as he tilted your head back to deepen it—slipping a tongue between your lips. 

You didn’t hold back. Your hands gripped the zippered edges of his jacket, pulling him toward you needlessly. 

The kiss was not kind or soft, but passionate and aggressive, like something pent up was spilling out for everyone to see. 

Only the ding of the elevator reaching your floor was enough to separate you. You pulled away, letting your hands drop from his jacket as your thumb came up to wipe away some inevitably smeared lipstick—probably worse than you could save with a simple action, anyway. 

“See,” you said, rolling your shoulders back. “Nothing.” 

Then, you slipped out from under his grasp and walked out of the elevator, trying to keep your pace even and calm until you were inside your apartment, breathing heavily with your back against the door. 

Yunho turned to watch you leave, but didn’t follow. Instead, he stood stock still in the center of the elevator, fingers touching his lips, until the doors started to close. 

“You what?” Jihyo asked. She leaned against the door frame as you dusted blush across your cheekbones. 

You hadn’t exactly planned on telling her—or anyone—what happened, but it just slipped out. There weren’t really words to explain the situation. You couldn’t figure out why you’d done it, anyway. He’d tested you, and you weren’t one to back away from a dare. You wanted him to know, for certain, that he had no chance with you. 

But why, then, had it been so difficult to stop thinking about him? 

“I don’t know,” you said, because they were the only words bubbling to the surface in your otherwise Yunho-occupied mind. The heat of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed all over your skin. You were starting to understand why the women he shared a bed with sang his praises all night long. 

“Well—why? How?” she asked. “When?” 

When you didn’t respond right away, Jihyo’s eyes widened expectantly, waiting for you to reveal all the dirty details of the situation. 

With a sigh, you put down the brush and turned, leaning against the sink. “He gave me a ride home last night, after my shift.”

“He stayed that late?” 

“Yes,” you said. “And I thought it was just to get on my nerves—but I don’t know. He left me a big tip and apologized for being such an ass.”

“He what?” 

“He left a note on his check. Sorry for being an ass,” you explained. 

“And then he kissed you?” Jihyo asked, one brow raised. 

You shook your head. “No. He left. I started walking home. It was cold. It started raining. Yunho found me. I don’t know how. Maybe he was waiting. I don’t know. He gave me a ride home on his motorcycle, by the way.” 

“You got on a motorcycle with Yunho?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Is that so unbelievable?” 

“A little bit, yeah,” she commented. 

“Anyway, it’s pouring. He drives me home. We’re in the elevator on the way up, and he just accuses me of looking at him differently.” 

“Were you?” Jihyo asked. 

“Hm?” 

“Were you looking at him differently?” she clarified. 

“Oh.” You hesitated. “Of course not. But I don’t know what I was thinking. The words just kind of came out. I said something along the lines of, I could kiss you and still feel nothing.” You, of course, did remember the exact words you’d spoken—but you were trying to be aloof. Trying to pretend that it wasn’t affecting you. 

You weren’t very good at it. And besides. Jihyo could always see through your bullshit. 

“And then he told me to prove it,” you said, your voice a bit smaller than before, ashamed of the act so many hours past it. An entire night's sleep and you still couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. You should have just laughed in his face. Should have ignored him, like you always did. 

“So you did,” Jihyo said. 

“So I did,” you echoed. 

“But you felt something,” she said. 

“But I felt something.” Your stomach flipped. You turned away from Jihyo, facing the mirror again, your hands gripping the edge. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Jihyo, ever the pragmatic, said, “Well, stop thinking about it. He’s an asshole, remember.” 

You weren’t naive to believe that his apology truly fixed anything. Besides, maybe this was the long con. Step one: apologize. Step two: get you on the back of his bike. Step three: kiss you in the elevator? Then what? 

Who would he send over to kick you out in the morning? Some other neighbor? 

It wasn’t feasible, these thoughts. They couldn’t go anywhere. It almost made it worse—that they just had to stay in your head. Trapped. Because acting on them, well, it was a fucking horrible idea. And he was probably just playing with you, anyway. That’s what he did. 

“I remember,” you grumbled. 

“Do you remember Hongjoong?” she asked, and you could see the way she smiled reflected in the mirror. Pointed, obvious in the point she was conveying. 

You picked up a lip gloss and ran the wand over your lips. “I didn’t cancel the date, did I?” you said. “I’m wearing a cute outfit. I’m going.” 

Jihyo smiled. “Okay. Good.” 

“You know, you can be really judgmental,” you said, a hint of a laugh escaping between words. 

“That’s why you love me.” She smiled big and wide. “Now have fun tonight. That’s an order. And try to get laid, for the love of god.”

You were standing in front of your door, a little bit tipsy, trying to unlock it, when the one down the hall popped open. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips, knowing just who was going to appear in front of you in no time at all. 

He took his time. You had to give him that. He leaned against the door frame to his own apartment for a little while, watching you struggle. Which was annoying in its own way—but at least it was from a distance. 

The distance didn’t last. He got closer. 

You held up a hand in his direction. “No,” you said. You weren’t drunk enough that your words were slurring, just tipsy enough to say exactly what was on your mind. A dangerous thing, considering what was on your mind lately regarding the man in the hallway. “You stay over there.”

Thankfully, you got the key to work, letting the door to your apartment swing inward. Yunho was faster, though, and more determined. He caught it with one hand before it could slam closed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and those weren’t the words you expected to come out of his mouth. They weren’t suggestive or annoying. He actually seemed genuine. Had you ever met a more confusing man? One who could flip back and forth between strange softness and playful humor faster than you could process it? 

He wore black jeans, the same leather jacket he basically lived in. His near-black hair fell just past his eyebrows, only partially obscuring brown eyes that met your gaze. There was a slight crease between his brows, like he was just as confused as you were about the state of his personality—about the way he was acting toward you. 

“Yes,” you said. Yunho closed the door gently behind him. “And you can’t just invite yourself into my apartment whenever you want.” 

“Date didn’t go well, I take it?” he asked, that playful tone coming back at half power. The smirk that appeared put in a lot of work. 

You pressed your lips into a tight line, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you grew embarrassed. Any normal person wouldn’t have commented on the fact that you’d come home alone after a third date—especially after your friends announced so loudly your desire to get laid. 

“Can we not do this right now?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as if to cover some of your obvious discomfort. 

“You know,” he said, taking another step closer to you. You didn’t move. Of course you didn’t. You wanted him closer, even if you wanted to pretend otherwise. And ultimately, your body beat out your mind the moment he intruded upon your personal space. “The offer still stands.” 

Your brain wasn’t working. “What offer?” you bit out. 

He didn’t touch you, but his hands might as well have been all over your body with how hot you felt. “You know—if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be with someone.” 

It was enough to make you take a much-needed step back, sobering you some. “Oh my god, get a grip, Yunho.” 

He just laughed. It wasn’t a big deal to him. It was just another joke, another way to get under your skin. 

You steeled yourself for the lie you needed to speak aloud, to really get the point across. “I don’t want you. I’ll never want you. I like my men with a little more… dignity.” 

For a split second, you were certain you’d hurt his feelings. His eyes softened, and his shoulders lowered. But then he was back to smiling again, acting like it hadn’t affected him in the slightest. 

When had this turned from him asking you if you were okay to him propositioning you again? And why had you wanted to say yes? If it weren’t for the voice of Jihyo playing in the back of your head, reminding you that he was an asshole—over and over again—you might have let it happen. You were feeling just dejected enough, anyway. 

Hongjoong had basically rejected you. It was rightful, too, since you’d barely paid attention to him during your date. Your mind had been on other things. Other people. And besides, there’d been no spark. He didn’t push your buttons. He didn’t make you laugh. 

“Really, though,” Yunho said, taking a more serious tone again—enough to give you whiplash. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“You don’t seem fine,” Yunho said. 

“If I needed a friend, I’d call Jihyo. Or Wooyoung.” 

Again, that look of hurt. Like he’d been struck. 

“Right,” he said. “Obviously.” He took a step away from you, toward the door. “Sorry.” You were too stunned to speak. “I’ll see you later.”

When you woke up the next morning, there was no woman to escort out of Yunho’s apartment. Your apartment sat empty. Quiet. It continued like that for several days. Nearly a week. You let Jihyo and Wooyoung talk you out of going over there, of making sure everything was okay with him. That he hadn’t died or moved out or something. 

No matter what excuses you made up, however, you still couldn’t get him out of your head. Even when he wasn’t around to bother you. You found yourself hoping to catch him around a corner, in the elevator, or by his bike in the parking garage. You didn’t. 

He was strangely absent. 

That should have resulted in better sleep, but you found yourself awake for other reasons, staring at the ceiling. You could find any reason to doubt yourself. Maybe you’d been too quick to judge him. The way his face had fallen the last time you spoke haunted you. Eyes open or closed, you could still see the ghost of his disappointment. The soft tenor of his voice and the way he sounded so genuine. 

Convincing yourself that it was a fluke did not help. 

And somehow, you always ended up back in that elevator, his lips hot on yours. 

Yunho was hot. Of course, he was. You had never questioned that fact. You had explicitly tried to ignore it. But he wasn’t your type. He liked to push your buttons, get under your skin. He didn’t respect basic boundaries. 

Now, he was gone. The firm boundary you’d put in place was being respected, and you found yourself being the one who wanted to cross it. 

Maybe that was growth. Or maybe it was all a part of Yunho’s grand scheme to get in your pants. If you thought about it for too long, you could believe anything. It was the only the long con, a way of getting to you by disappearing when you were finally interested—or, it was the first genuine thing he’d ever done. 

And it made you feel bad. 

Something shot through your nervous system, a realization that you didn’t want to make eye contact. You missed him.

It was nearly a week later when you spotted his door clicking shut just as you were leaving to run a few errands. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you. But after all the times he’d barged in uninvited, you figure it was okay to intrude on his space just once. Walking the short distance from your door to his, however, did cause a strange anxiety to settle in next to your heart, tucked away in your ribcage. A thrumming that whispered, “What are you doing? Why are you doing it?” over and over again. 

It didn’t stop you from raising your hand to tap your knuckles against the door. 

When Yunho opened the door, he looked a little worse for wear. His hair was fluffier than usual, sticking up in places like he’d spent the last seven days running his hands through it. He looked you up and down. A smile appeared on his lips, but it wasn’t the same as the proud one you’d grown used to. He didn’t say anything, just watched you. 

“Hey,” you said. Attempting to be casual didn’t exactly suit you. 

“Hey?” he repeated. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Hey.” You tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes kept moving away, finding something else to look at whenever you got close. 

He had one hand on the door, holding it open. It would be easier that way, to close it whenever he needed to. Because he wanted to look at you. He wanted to meet your gaze. But there was this ball of anger in the pit of his stomach, too. A tightly wound piece of hatred. Not for you, of course. He couldn’t hate you. No. He hated himself. And he would never say it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to you—but he hated himself for being someone you didn’t want. 

But all he could do was look past your eyes and force a smile. 

Unfortunately, the hatred he felt toward himself manifested as anger. “Do you need something?” 

The sharpness in his tone sliced straight through you. “What?” 

“You made it clear you don’t want me,” he said. 

“Well—” you stammered. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“You have Jihyo and Wooyoung, right? That’s what you said.” He paused and finally met your eyes. Something crossed his face. “Besides, I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” you said. The anxiety tucked away in your chest blossomed, and your heart began to race. This was a mistake, then. At least you could leave and pretend it never happened. Why then, were you so frozen solid to the spot in front of his door? Why couldn’t you just turn and walk away? Why could you feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the heat of his palms on your arms? Why couldn’t you look away? 

“You’re afraid to admit it, but I’m not,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gentle tone once more. The one you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. The one that floated through your dreams like a melody. “I like you.” 

Your lips parted. He leaned forward to look at you on eye level, studying you. He didn’t touch you, just let his eyes bore into yours. It was far too intimate than your racing heart could take. 

“You think I’m all bad,” he said. “I’m not. Let me take you out sometime. I’ll prove it to you.” The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile. Hopeful. 

It was your own self-hatred, your own uncertainty, your own self-consciousness, your own fear, that made you say what you did. “I can’t,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. And that’s what broke you. Not the rejection, but the acceptance. The way his smile turned firm as he stood straight up and stepped away from you, moving to close the door just as you turned to flee. 

Several days passed, but even the passage of time didn’t make you feel any better. 

“It’s good,” Jihyo said. “I don’t trust him.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung echoed. “Me either.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either, given how much you’d been thinking about it. About him. Even your thoughts felt selfish. Because you could have him, if you really wanted to. If you really wanted to have him, you could walk over to his apartment and tell him that. 

But something held you back. 

The fear, mostly. 

The thought that you would just end up like all the other girls he’d engaged in one-night stands with. You weren’t exactly a one-night stand kind of girl. Or, at least, you weren’t certain that was what you wanted from Yunho. You didn’t know what you wanted. Maybe that was the scariest part. 

“You didn’t see the look on his face,” you said, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. 

It was Wooyoung who eventually said. “If you like him, I guess I don’t really see what the problem is.”

“The problem is he has a different girl over every night,” Jihyo commented. 

“Not every night. Besides, he hasn’t in a while,” you said, which earned you a look from Jihyo. “What? The walls are thin. I can hear everything.”

“Maybe he’s a changed man,” Wooyoung commented. 

“Doubt it,” Jihyo said. 

You could only shrug. “I don’t know. I hardly know him, anyway.” You let out a long, deep breath. “I’ll get over it eventually. So will he. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a few weeks. Maybe we’ll even laugh about it.”

Hours later, when Jihyo and Wooyoung finally left your apartment—you stood at the door, waiting for them to get on the elevator. An old habit. Like making sure they got home safe. The elevator doors opened, and Yunho stepped out. You only saw him at first. 

Then, you saw her. The girl hanging off his arm. Laughing. Smiling. 

Jihyo shot you a look, but you shook your head. It was fine. You didn’t need them coming to your rescue over a man you’d rejected. They got into the elevator and disappeared. You tried to close your door fast, but Yunho spotted you first. You just barely caught him raising a few fingers in a wave, a smile on his lips, before the hastily shut door separated you both. 

Something bloomed in your chest, hot and angry. You’d seen him with other women before. Countless times, in fact. You’d heard them through your walls, escorted them out afterward. And you’d never been angry at anything other than the inconvenience. 

But now the anger flushed your system of coherent thoughts. The tips of your ears turned red as you rested your forehead against the closed door. This wasn’t anger. As much as you wanted to believe it, manifest it into being so—it was so much worse. 

Jealousy. 

It made your skin crawl, the realization. You were jealous. And the worst part was that you had no right to be. He had offered you the same thing he gave all those girls, and you’d turned him down. So why now, did you have your head resting on the door and your eyes squeezed tight? Maybe it wasn’t just jealousy, but anger too. 

Anger at your own poor decision-making skills. Anger at Yunho for—what exactly? Moving on? You were the one who’d been adamant that there was absolutely nothing between you. He’d shot his shot and failed. Had you expected him to retire from the little game he played every weekend? 

You tried to remind yourself what would have happened if you’d gone out with him. That he wasn’t relationship material. That he didn’t want you like you wanted him. 

Fuck. You wanted him. 

You wanted him, and it made you feel like an idiot. 

Is that how everyone who ended up in his bed felt? Confused and annoyed, angry with his charming personality and his ability to sweep pretty much anyone off their feet without really even trying? 

And when had this happened, anyway? He’d moved in a few months ago. You’d been tolerating his presence since—and then things just, well, shifted. 

It didn’t even matter if you ended up as just another one-night stand—you wanted to be in his bed, underneath him, no matter what the outcome was. It was that thought that pulled you away from the door and sent you into the bedroom, diving under the covers and attempting to think about anything other than what was possibly going on in the next room over. 

Damn his stupid motorcycle and the way his shirt, damp with rain and sweat, had stuck to his skin. Damn his stupid, charming smile that shifted between snarky and kind. Damn his everything, every detail that made you look twice, that had you second-guessing every moment, every interaction. 

It was even worse, knowing that he wanted you, too. Knowing that he wanted you, and that you could have just had him, if you weren’t such an idiot. 

And so you oscillated back and forth like that for a while—between being annoyed at yourself for rejecting him and at him for being so charming and so untrustworthy at the same time. 

It went on like that for some time before you eventually fell asleep to thoughts of walking down the hall and throwing the door open, to grabbing him and kissing him—before your mind eventually decided being awake no longer served you. 

Unfortunately, when morning came, it wasn’t with a new, refreshed mind. 

Instead, more thoughts swarmed, and before you could stop and think about what you were doing, you were standing in the hallway outside Yunho’s apartment in your pajamas. 

It wasn’t until you raised your hand to knock that you realized exactly where you were. 

Yunho must have sensed it. The door swung open, and there he was, standing there with that somewhat charming, somewhat obnoxious smile on his face, looking at you like this—whatever you were doing—was, in fact, completely normal behavior. 

He looked just out of bed, messy hair and plaid pajama pants. A white shirt that clung to him and a loose robe overtop. One hand held a mug of coffee, and he leaned against the door frame in such a casual manner as you glanced him over, trying to figure out some excuse for why you’d shown up at his door. 

“Good morning,” he said. There was a coldness to his voice. Something absent from his tone that you didn’t want to linger on. Like he was distancing himself from you. 

Words failed you. 

“I—” you started. You took a step forward, nearly into his body. He didn’t yield against you, instead holding firm in the door frame. You tried to look over his shoulder to see if the girl was still present. Did he not want your help escorting her out?

The smile that fell on his lips was slow, and you watched him figure you out in record time. 

“Looking for someone?” he asked, that cold tone growing warmer, charm seeping back into his words, that familiar enjoyment. A cat playing with a mouse. 

You took a step back. “No.” 

“Seems like you are.” 

“I’m not,” you said, but you weren’t able to keep the defensive note from your voice. It was so painstakingly clear to both of you why you were there and what you were looking for. It became a game, then, of who would concede the space first. Who would give up. You could easily admit your lie, but there was no pride in that. And Yunho, well, he could just as easily call you out on it, but that didn’t seem like the path he wanted to take, either. 

Instead, it turned into a standoff of words loaded into guns and backs turned. Paces counted before firing. Eye contact, before your gaze dropped to his lips, and the slow smile crawling across turned into a smirk of victory undeserved. 

“I just thought you might want my help,” you said, cocking your head back and crossing your arms. A feeble attempt to gain some ground. 

“I don’t,” he said. Sharp. You hated that the simple words cut, even though you would have claimed to hate said help only a week prior. 

“You don’t,” you repeated. 

Your cursed brain. He’d found someone else. Someone else to break the streak of one-night stand girls. He’d found someone else, and it was too late, and you’d ruined everything out of pure indecisiveness and misguided advice. 

Maybe he wasn’t even such a bad guy. 

Maybe your vision had been clouded by jealousy from the very beginning. 

Yunho stepped away from the door, walking deeper into the apartment. You hesitated. He brought down another mug and filled it, pushing it in your direction and eying you to take it. 

“You know,” he said. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

Your brows drew together as you watched him, sipping his coffee and looking over the cup at you, still standing in the hallway. 

“I’m not—” you started, but he just laughed. “I’m really not.” 

“Then why are you here?” he asked, the genuine nature of his voice catching you off guard. “You already rejected me, remember?” 

Your feet carried you into his apartment. You closed the door behind you. 

“I remember,” you said. You stopped across from him and reached over to pick up the mug of coffee, the kitchen island separating you. You looked over your shoulder, eyes wandering toward the open door of his bedroom. 

“You’re funny,” he said. 

“What?” you asked, eyes snapping back to him. 

“There’s no one here,” Yunho said. He set his coffee mug down on the counter and walked closer to you. “And whatever you’re trying to do—you’re not very good at it.”

He reached up and took the coffee mug out of your hands, placing it on the counter next to his. 

“There’s no one here,” you said, repeating his words back to him for the second time. It was easier than finding new ones to say. 

He rolled his eyes, but the annoyance didn’t reach his lips. No, those still held that same pleased smile, like he knew something you didn’t. 

Yunho reached out, closing the distance between you, to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t place. Something between admiration and lust. His fingers trailed down your jaw and hooked under your chin. 

His touch froze you. You could only blink and watch, your gaze darting between his mouth and his eyes. 

“Are you jealous?” he asked, holding your chin and looking at you carefully. 

“I don’t know,” you said, because that was the truth. All the thoughts in your mind were jumbled, and nothing made sense when it came to him. 

He raised one brow, skeptical. “Did you need to borrow something?” he asked. “Or yell at me because the TV was too loud?” 

“No,” you said. 

“Then why did you come over?” he asked. He led you toward the answer, walked you there while holding your chin and making sure you kept your eyes trained on his. His voice was gentle, but stern—and you knew he wouldn’t relent until you gave him the truth. 

You sighed, and this small act of giving up only made the corners of his lips turn up. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you said. His lips parted in shock. Because he’d been expecting an admission regarding your jealousy, not the way that he raced through your mind all night. But you kept going, anyway. “And I didn’t mean to come over, I mean—I guess I did. But I left my apartment, and then here I was—and I wasn’t even going to knock, but you opened the door, and then all I could think about was whether or not you had a girl over.” 

His hand slipped from your chin to lay flat against the side of your head, his palm on your cheek and his fingers dipping into your hair. 

Your heart raced faster as his eyes dropped to your lips, and your first kiss played on a loop over and over again until you were stepping closer to him, lifting a hand to touch the one on your cheek. 

He inched closer too, until your bodies were almost touching. 

Yunho’s eyes met yours, then flicked downward. Up and back. Your eyes followed the same pattern, and you moved closer, closer, a centimeter at a time, until his lips were on yours again and everything agonizingly slow kicked into full speed. 

His other hand came up to cup your other cheek as he kissed you slowly. It wasn’t the abrupt, intense heat of the kiss you shared in the elevator, but a soft, molten kiss that sent your nerves firing. 

When he pulled away, it was only a half an inch, barely enough to keep you from recapturing his lips and stopping whatever sentence whirred to life behind hazy eyes. “That’s what I wanted our first kiss to be like,” he said. 

“I liked our first kiss,” you said, without really thinking. 

He dropped his forehead against yours. “Me too.” 

“I liked the second too.” But you didn’t let yourself reach out again, not with the last thought that nagged at the back of your mind. “What about the girl—your date last night?” 

“She didn’t stay long. I couldn’t stop thinking about my neighbor.” He put a half-step’s worth of space between you. 

“How annoying,” you said, laughing under your breath. 

“Yeah, she really is,” he teased. “Kinda hot, though.” 

“Kinda?” you asked, raising a brow at him. 

“Okay, insanely,” Yunho said, crossing his arms over his chest. “So hot she’s driven me mad since the day I moved in. Is that what you want to hear?” 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “Yes.” 

“Now will you let me take you out?” he asked. 

You hadn’t thought about what would happen after you stormed over to his apartment without invitation, nor what would happen after his lips were on yours. You thought he would try something more, but he kept his distance—asked about dates instead. 

“You look shocked,” he said. 

“I’m not,” you said, and he chuckled under his breath. Apparently, you were easier to read than you thought, or maybe he was just good at knowing what you were thinking. Somehow, that wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. 

“Not jealous, not shocked…” he trailed off. “Not very good at lying, either.” 

“I just didn’t think dating was really your thing,” you said. 

He placed a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me,” he said. “I’m a romantic at heart, you’ll see.”

“Oh, will I?” you asked, “From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t sound like romance.” You tilted your head to the side, looking up at him, watching for the reaction. 

His brows lifted a hair. “You’ve been listening.” 

“The walls are thin, Yunho.” 

“And that’s why you’re jealous?” he asked, reaching out to poke your cheek. “Because of what you’ve been hearing?” 

“No,” you stammered, a crinkle developing between your brows in irritation. 

“I can’t figure you out,” he said. “You think I’m this big player, right? But you’re also up at night with your ear to the wall trying to listen in so—I think you might be the real freak, here.” 

You slapped his arm playfully. “I am not.” 

“We’ll see,” he said, continuing before you could get a word in, “Let me take you out tonight.”

“I’m working,” you said. 

“Tomorrow night.”

You pretended to ponder the availability of your schedule. Since your minor situationship with Hongjoong fizzled out, you hadn’t had plans with anyone but Jihyo and Wooyoung. And they wouldn’t mind a night off from having to listen to your problems. Maybe you’d get an earful from Jihyo about how you were choosing to spend the night, instead, but Wooyoung would come around. 

“Tomorrow night,” you confirmed. 

It was strange how quickly everything turned over in your mind. Maybe you were naive, but one kiss and you’d started to see him differently. That voice that nagged in the back of your mind, reminding you that maybe he was like this with all the girls he brought back, had disappeared completely. Instead, you found ways to justify it all. There was nothing wrong with sleeping around, anyway. 

You’d had more active times in your life, too. And no one had judged you for that, well, experimentation. 

He watched the cogs turn behind your eyes. “What are you thinking?” he asked. 

“Just trying to figure you out, is all.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, rethinking whatever it was he wanted to say. It seemed like you were both playing the same game—trying to understand the other without giving too much away, without making a big deal out of something that hadn’t gone anywhere, yet. 

“So,” you said. A blanket of silence suddenly fell between you, the awkward air of the kiss settling on your shoulders, and the future plans made. 

“So,” Yunho said, much cooler, calmer, than you had. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Definitely.” 

You took a step back, but he reached out to grab your hand before you could get too far. He held it, not too tight, but not exactly with a gentle grasp, either. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “Really.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Me too,” before disappearing from his apartment. By the time you were back home, your palms were sweating. 

Was this a horrible idea? And if it was, why did you want it so badly?

The next 36 hours went by at an unimaginably slow pace. In that time, you managed to spend a good several more hours overthinking, at least thirty minutes on the phone with Jihyo, convincing her that this was, maybe, a good idea, actually, and the rest of the time panicking about your ability to make decisions regarding your love life. 

“It doesn’t have to be anything,” Jihyo said at the end of the call, after retiring her role as devil’s advocate. “It was just a kiss, right? And it’s just a date.” 

“Maybe I want it to be something,” you said. “That’s what scares me. What if he doesn’t?” 

You could hear her shrug over the line. “Guess you’ll have to ask him.”

Wooyoung chimed in from over Jihyo’s shoulder. “Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen, anyway? You find out if the sex is good, and then he stops showing up at your apartment without permission?” 

You pinched your nose between your thumb and forefinger. “Neither of you are helpful,” you said. 

Hours after the call, however, you couldn’t help but admit that Wooyoung’s words were true. This was a sexual attraction. Yunho was sexy. He had a confusing charm to him that you never understood, and a contagious smile. He was goofy, good at video games, and fun to bicker with—but you didn’t really know him, did you? 

So you decided that’s what the date would be for. 

You’d get to know him. Decide exactly what you wanted. And if that was just sex, well. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, right? Maybe fucking him would get him out of your head, too. Though, you had a feeling that probably wouldn’t be the case. 

By the time eight o’clock rolled around, you were standing in your bedroom, looking in the floor-length mirror, still attempting to determine exactly which outfit was right for the date. 

You’d never been this nervous for a date before. 

It was just a date. Yunho was just a man. 

The knock at the door, however, sent your heart into your stomach—so maybe you were just lying to yourself. Either way, it wasn’t working. 

You smoothed your hands down the front of your shirt, over the sides of your skirt. Was there time to change? He was on the other side of the door, and still, you didn’t feel exactly right. Almost like you were wearing a costume, something to impress him, but not something that was really you. 

The nerves were getting to you, and all you had to do was just open the door. 

Open the door, and he would be there, staring back at you. You knew exactly what he would look like, too. Leather jacket, permanent smirk curling up the corners of his lips, knowing brown eyes scanning you. It was a comfort, almost, this knowing. 

But still, you were frozen. 

Like opening the door was some kind of test of your own nature. He was the same, steady. Predictable. But you? Was he on the other side of the door, telling himself the same thing, that you were there—familiar?

What if he didn’t like this version of you? The one who had spent hours trying to figure out how to look just right, for him. The one wearing a skirt, the one who was excited about the date, who had gotten her hopes up. 

What if he had only ever liked you because you didn’t like him?

You rubbed your temples, trying to quiet the ever-existing anxiety that stirred behind your eyes, a reminder that this was something you fucking cared about, which only made the whole thing worse. You cared, which meant you could screw it up. You could screw it up, and it would hurt. 

“You gonna open the door?” Yunho asked from the hall. He had this weird ability to read your mind, to sense when you were nearby. Like he knew some part of you that even you couldn’t see. 

You opened the door halfway through an eye roll. 

And there he was. 

He looked nothing like you’d imagined in your head. His leather jacket was missing, replaced by a black suit jacket with a white button-up underneath, a skinny black tie cut down the middle. Though you could barely see his torso behind the bouquet of flowers he held in one arm. 

Yunho’s eyes stayed glued to yours. They didn’t wander, as yours did. But that slow smile did crawl across his lips as you took him in, this different version of him. 

“Are those for me?” you asked, looking at the arrangement of tulips and baby’s breath. 

He took a step closer to you, dropping his free hand around your shoulders to place a kiss atop your head, into your hair. It was immediately overwhelming, being in his presence again, especially after so many hours of trying to pretend that he had no effect on you. 

Well, there that effect was. The way your heart immediately beat faster, your nervous system racing into high alert, goosebumps rising on your forearms. You would think that something was truly wrong, the way your body reacted. Like this was something to run away from. But coupled with the feeling of ignition—the warmth of him being close started a fire somewhere deep within you—there was no chance you would run away. 

“Do you have a vase I can put these in?” he said, answering your arguably dumb question as he took a step away from you. 

You moved out of the way, letting him step into your apartment. A place familiar to him. Some place he’d basically broken into over and over again. He moved through it like it belonged to him, walking into the kitchen to grab a vase from under the sink. He filled it with water and placed the bouquet inside, leaving it on the counter. 

“You seem nervous,” he commented as he trimmed away the plastic wrapping with a pair of scissors he’d also known the location of. 

Your arms were crossed over your chest, not in disappointment or contempt, but because you had to hold onto something to steady yourself. Your fingers dug into your biceps only slightly, but he must have caught that, too. 

Or maybe he was just so used to the inner workings of your mind, your body, that he could sense these differences too. 

You had no idea he paid so much attention. 

“I’m not,” you said. But even a stranger would have known you were lying. 

He peeled away the rest of the crinkling plastic and put it in the trash, snipping the rubber band on the bouquet and letting the flowers fall outward. 

“They’re pretty,” you said, as if that could distract from your nerves and his commentary on them. “Thank you.” 

You kept your distance from him, standing just outside the kitchen while he worked. But once finished, he strode toward you again. He stopped just short, not opting to reach for you, just looking. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?” 

You cleared your throat as you nodded. “Mhm.” 

He could only chuckle under his breath. You were standing so straight, holding yourself so tightly. He did reach out, then, peeling one of your hands away from your arm to hold it. He laced his fingers between yours. 

Yunho’s hands were large and warm, and they didn’t serve to ground you any. 

Oh god. What was happening to you? 

You tried to remind yourself of everything you’d said earlier. This was just a date. Yunho was just a man. A really, really fucking hot man. And a man who drove you absolutely insane. A man who knew how to kiss. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, eyes flicked downward, watching your joined hands. He couldnt’t believe it either—was just better at keeping his cool—that this was actually happening. That you’d agreed to it. 

“Yes,” you said, and the pair of you walked out of your apartment together. He made eyes at you in the elevator. 

Were you both thinking about the same thing? The upward quirk of his smile was enough to make you think yes. 

“You are nervous,” Yunho commented as the doors to the lobby slid open. 

“Shut up,” you said. “I’m not.”

He held his free hand up in defense. “Not a very nice way to talk to your date.”

You shot a glare in his direction, but it wasn’t very threatening when paired with the smile gracing your lips. 

He squeezed your hand. “Why?” 

“Why, what?” you asked. 

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” you said again, but this time the pointed look was from him. And frankly, it was deserved. “Shut up,” you said again, as the two of you stepped outside. “I’m not nervous, you’re nervous.”

“I’m a little nervous,” he said. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked. He didn’t tell you where you were going, and you didn’t ask. 

“What?” you asked. “The Jeong Yunho, nervous? Haven’t you done this like a million times?”

“Yeah, but never with you,” he said, which only made heat rise to your cheeks. 

You were still not used to this version of Yunho. The charming one. The complement to the snarky asshole who’s been appearing in your apartment for the past several months. 

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” you asked, diverting the conversation from compliments that made your skin turn pink. 

“We’re almost there,” he said. 

There were so many other questions flying through your head, but it was so much harder to form words around him, now. It was easier before, when all those words were full of frustration and anger, when you were making fun of him or reacting to his torment. When he was being kind to you, it only left you speechless and on uneven footing. 

Thankfully, he was right. In only a few minutes of walking, you arrived at a small Italian bistro. A place you’d seen a hundred times on walks home from work, but never stopped into. It wasn’t exactly a bartender’s salary kind of place, unless you wanted to blow an entire month’s food budget on delicious gnocchi. Which, honestly, you’d thought about plenty of times before. 

Booths lined the walls with tables in the center, spread out and quiet, each with its own warm candlelight in the middle, its own dangling chandelier in the center. The tables were preset with wine glasses and cutlery. 

He gave his name at the host stand, and the two of you followed her to a table. Yunho’s hand settled on your lower back as you walked. 

Only the thin layer of your shirt stopped the electricity from knocking you out, dulling it to a mild spark instead. You slid into a booth opposite him. 

The host rattled off some wine specials. 

“Whatever you suggest,” Yunho said, smiling warmly at the woman. 

She disappeared momentarily, then returned with a bottle of red wine with a name you didn’t know how to pronounce. She filled up your glasses, then left the bottle behind. 

“So,” Yunho said, picking up his glass to look at you over it. “I should have said this already, but you look really nice tonight.”

“Don’t,” you said, a knee-jerk reaction to his complimenting. “I mean—”

“You know this is a date, right?” he teased. “You agreed to go on a date with me.”

You laughed under your breath, covering your mouth with your hand. “Sorry,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Still trying to get used to you being like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, one brow raised. 

“Oh, come on. You know like what,” you fired back. You lifted your glass of wine too and took a small sip. It was delicious. Deep and dry. 

He set his wine glass down and leaned slightly forward with both elbows on the table, trying to get closer to you. He tilted his head to the side, watching you curiously. “I don’t,” he said. 

“All charming and nice,” you said. 

“I think I’ve always been charming and nice,” Yunho said. 

You shake your head, taking another sip of your wine to hide the fact that the smile won’t fade from your lips—that being around him made you smile, now. “That’s not true, and you know it, Yunho.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please,” you said. “You can’t pretend that for the last several months you haven’t been trying to get on my last nerve.”

He pursed his lips like he was really, actually taking the time to think about it. “Maybe I just like getting you all hot and bothered,” he said, finally. 

“Wasn’t hot,” you said. “Just bothered.”

“And now?” Yunho asked, leaning even further over the table, as if making direct eye contact would allow him to glean every secret you ever had. 

“Still just bothered, I think,” you teased, lifting your glass to your lips. 

Yunho leaned back in his seat, picking up his own glass and smiling smugly to himself. “I do like a challenge.”

When the waitress came over to ask about starting courses, you were still looking at one another, like you were both trying to place exactly what was going on, exactly what all of it meant. Yunho looked at you like he was trying to read your mind, trying to figure out what you thought about him, and you looked at him like you were trying to piece together a complex puzzle, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. 

It was Yunho who broke eye contact first, who glanced over at the waitress, who ordered a few starters for the table. 

When she walked away, you were still looking at him, watching. Studying, almost. Like you could glean something in the way he talked to others, in whether he chose bruschetta or burrata. 

“So,” he said, lowering his empty glass back to the table. 

“So,” you mirrored. 

It occurred to you then that you knew almost nothing about him, aside from the fact that he liked video games and coffee. Aside from what his mouth felt like against yours. 

You engaged in tense, short, small talk for a little while, until the food came out. How work had been for you, what he’d been up to with his time. Trying to get to know each other even a little bit more. It all came back to pointed glances and tension—both of you guarded against something. Not each other, really, but refusing to let the other in. 

Yunho didn’t give much away about himself, only continued asking about you. And you could only tease him in response. Keeping him at a distance by pushing back, instead. 

As the wine levels lowered, so did your defenses. 

“Is this how it usually goes for you?” you asked, finishing off your second glass of wine while you waited for his answer. He didn’t speak immediately, so you clarified. “Like, on all your dates, is this usually how things go?”

“I don’t know where you got this idea that I go on tons of dates,” he said. 

It only served to stun you. Because—where else would you have gotten that information, aside from the obvious? By living next door. By kicking out said dates the next morning. 

“I mean—” you started. 

“Your impression of me,” he said. “It’s wrong. You think I’m this ladies man, right?” He laughed like he couldn’t even say the words with a straight face. “I’m really not.”

“Oh, please,” you said, because you knew that to be false. You’d met the women. Spoken with them. 

He chuckled under his breath. “Just because they were at my house didn’t mean I went out on dates with them. You know that, right? That you don’t have to go on a date with someone to get into bed with them?” He raised a brow in such a suggestive way that you choked on your saliva. 

“I know that,” you said. Even though it didn’t really occur to you that he wasn’t actually dating anyone. 

“This is the first date I’ve been on in over a year,” he said, offering up something about himself completely unprompted. “So I don’t know how it’s going, really. My date seems a little tense. A little nervous, even though she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“You haven’t been on a date in over a year?” you asked, lingering on the details. “But you’re so—” you started, then realized you had no idea how to finish the sentence. What? Active? 

“Let’s just get this conversation over with,” Yunho said, a bit of tension appearing in the crease between his brows. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to draw attention to it. But you were so obviously curious, and it was so easy to do anything when it was what you wanted. 

“No,” you said, holding a hand up. “It’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It makes sense why you did. The women I’ve been with, they knew what I was looking for. I didn’t trick them or make them think I was looking for a relationship when I wasn’t. We met at bars or clubs or on dating apps. I didn’t date any of them.” 

“Okay,” you said. 

“So, I guess I’m kind of rusty,” he said. “When it comes to stuff like this.”

You laughed. “You’re not rusty at all,” you said. “You’re charming. You’ve always been charming.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Like, annoyingly so.” 

He looked down at the table, but not before you caught the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. Had you actually made Yunho blush?

“I think that makes you the experienced dater in the situation, then,” Yunho said. 

This, too, made you laugh. Because if there was anything you didn’t have experience with, it was dating. All of your dates had ended—with a fizzle and certainly without a bang. Your track record over the past year or two was mostly boring. Boring men who didn’t make you laugh. Boring men who you couldn’t bicker playfully with. Men who wanted more from you than you had to give. Or not enough. 

“I don’t know about that,” you said. Then, “Maybe we’re both losers.”

A bright smile crossed his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

The rest of the dinner went by without as much tension. You learned a few little bits of information about one another. Where he grew up. What you studied in school. What your favorite drink to make at work was. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, refilling your wine when a new bottle appeared at the table seemingly out of nowhere. “Your job?” 

You shrugged. “Most of the time, yes.” You took a small sip. “I like the people. The regulars are mostly cool. And I get this glimpse into people’s lives that I don’t think I could get anywhere else. I only get to see what they want to show me. What they tell me about their day, or whatever baggage they bring to the counter. I like that.”

“Is what they say about bartenders really true?” he asked. “Do people tell you their life stories, their secrets?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “Depends on the person, and how many drinks they’ve had. Most people keep to themselves, but I have a few regulars who like to talk.”

“You’re kind of fascinating, you know that?” he asked. 

“What?” you said, exhaling a short laugh. 

“When I moved in down the hall, you were headed out somewhere with Wooyoung and Jihyo—”

You interrupted him. “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Why?” he asked. “I like this story.”

You put your hands over your face like you could hide from it, from your own actions several months ago. 

“You walked right over to me and introduced yourself. I thought that was pretty cool.” 

Really? Because you had recounted that interaction several times in the hours afterward, convinced that you had made a complete ass out of yourself, convinced that you were the lamest person in the entire world. 

“Do you remember what you said to me?” he asked. 

“No,” you said. Even though you obviously did. Even though you knew exactly the words you’d said. 

Yunho smiled. “That I could come over any time if I needed something. That you were excited to have a cool, new neighbor.”

You hid your face behind your hands again. “God, that’s so lame.” 

“I thought it was cute.”

“You did not,” you said. 

He took a sip of his wine, eyes not leaving yours as he did. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were certain that this embarrassment was going to kill you. 

“And then you came over whenever you wanted for the rest of forever,” you said. “Just to bother me.”

He laughed again. “I came over because I thought you were cute.”

“I thought you were just trying to get away from the girls in your apartment.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because they weren’t you.”

You rolled your eyes at him because it was such a line. So something he would say to get what he wanted, to make a girl blush, or make them want him. It was probably something he said to those girls in the bar, to get them to come home with him. Not that he probably had to say much of anything at all. His appearance could do most of the talking. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said. “I’m being honest here.”

“You are not,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised at your blatant dismissal. “Just because you don’t want to believe me doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Yunho, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” he said. “None of those girls meant anything to me. They knew it. I knew it.”

“How charming,” you said. 

“Are you going to keep judging me for this, or can we move on?” he asked, straight-faced, just as blatant as your words. It must have been the alcohol, making you both so free to talk about what you were really thinking. 

“I’m not judging you for sleeping around. I don’t care about your sex life, Yunho. I really don’t,” you said. “You just can’t expect me to believe that you were thinking about me the whole time. I mean, we didn’t even know each other.”

“I know you wake up at ten on weekdays and eleven on weekends. I know you record more reality TV than any sane person probably should. I know that you like coffee and you hate tea. I know you make a really good old-fashioned. I know you like people. I know you’re kind, but you don’t take people’s shit.”

It was all true. 

“And I know I think about you when you aren’t around. I know that I’m not good enough for you even on my best days.” 

“That’s not true,” you said. “You’re good.”

“Is that why you rejected me?” he asked. 

“No,” you said. “I rejected you because I wanted more than I thought you wanted to give me.”

Something lit up behind his eyes when he smiled. 

The rest of the date went on without incident. You returned to small talk. To easier conversation. To more teasing and taunting. 

When you finally left, both wine drunk and happy, it was with intertwined hands. 

“So nice of you to walk me home,” you joked. 

“Well, I am quite the gentleman,” Yunho said. 

You laughed under your breath. 

“Your place or mine?” you asked as you stepped into the lobby and pressed the button to call the elevator down. 

He looked shocked by this. Like he hadn’t been thinking about it all night, what taking you back to his place would be like. Okay, so maybe he had, but that didn’t mean he was going to act on those feelings. No, he wanted to do this right. 

He didn’t respond fast enough, and it felt like a rejection. 

You played it off. “I just want to make you a drink, Yunho. Don’t be weird,” you said. Even though that wasn’t exactly what you meant. Maybe it meant what he thought it meant. That you were looking for more. 

“Your place, then,” he said, trying to keep the smile off his lips with little success. 

The elevator doors slipped open, and you both stepped inside. 

That same tension returned again. The we-kissed-here tension. 

You were both looking at each other. Wine drunk and smiling. You used your intertwined hands to pull him toward you. He took one confident stride closer. When the doors slid open at your floor, his hands were reaching up to touch your arms, that same darkened look in his eyes. The part of his lips, the way his eyes roamed your face, up and down, unable to stop in any one location. He wanted to kiss you. 

But he remained that step away, instead letting his knuckles glide along your skin. 

You reached out for him, like that first night. Your hands found his lapels as the elevator doors slid closed. You didn’t tug him closer, but just held them. 

He leaned down slowly, eyes shifting between your lips and your mouth. Your lips parted, too, and he captured them like it was an invitation. 

Kissing him felt just as insane every single time you’d done it. There was the urgency and the fear of the first night, the pretending. And days ago, there had only been tenderness in his investigation. This kiss fell somewhere in the middle. 

You could taste the wine on his lips as they moved slowly against yours. He tried to savor every bit of you. But as soon as it was really getting started, he was pulling away, cutting it off. 

Then, his hand intertwined with yours again. He hit a button to make the elevator doors open again, and he led you down the hall, toward your place. 

You wanted to reach for him again, wanted to drag him down for another kiss. But his expression looked like steel. He didn’t look at you, but instead forward at the door while you dug around for your keys. Even when you tried to steal a glance, he didn’t meet it. 

But he let you lead him into your apartment, and once you were inside, he removed his jacket, placing it on the back of one of your chairs. You went to the kitchen, and he followed you, wrapping his arms low around your waist so he could rest his chin on your shoulder. 

It was so domestic that it made your teeth hurt like you were sucking on a sweet candy. 

“What do you like to drink?” you asked. “Do you actually like an old-fashioned, or were you just trying to piss me off?” 

He chuckled in your ear, low and melodic, his breath curling against the shell of your ear. “I like them.”

“But are they your favorite?” you asked. 

“I don’t know if I have a favorite,” he said. 

“Everyone has a favorite,” you said.

“What’s yours?” he asked. “That’s what I want.”

You weren’t going to be able to make anyone anything if he kept holding onto you like that, kept whispering in your ear. 

“I like, um,” you started. “Mai tais. Rum-based drinks in general.” 

“Rum sounds good,” he said. 

You took a step forward, and his arms fell away from you. You collected a few things from the counter, moving them over to the place next to the sink. Yunho stayed close, watching you work as you sliced and juiced a lime. He watched as you filled a shaker with ice and added the ingredients. He watched you shake it, then strain the contents over ice in a lowball glass. He watched as you carefully placed a few cherries atop the drink next to a lime wheel. 

“Wait,” you said. “Finishing touch.” You dug around in a drawer and found a tiny umbrella, which you dropped into the drink for him, before picking it up and handing it to him. 

He took a tentative sip, then smiled. “Damn, that’s good.” 

“Kind of my specialty,” you said, already starting the process over for yours. 

Eventually, the two of you migrated to the couch. You took a seat on the ground, your back to the legs of the couch, your drink on the table adjacent to you. Yunho sat behind you, on the couch itself. 

You already had a controller in your hands, and it didn’t take long before Yunho wandered to the other side of the room to pick up another one. 

While you scrolled through your available games, he said, “Trying to figure out which game you want to lose at?” 

You shook your head, not looking back at him. “Cocky,” you commented. “I think you’ll find I’m better than you think.”

“I play on your account,” he said, which really meant I’ve seen your statistics. 

“Okay, so I’m bad at the games you like to play,” you said. 

He slipped onto the ground next to you. 

“I was thinking something collaborative.” 

You pulled up Overcooked and watched as he rolled his sleeves up. 

“It’s that serious?” you asked, teasingly. 

He laughed. “It’s incredibly serious.” 

You both finished your drinks and played into the middle of the night, yelling at each other about vegetables and recipes. 

It was nearly three in the morning when your eyes started to get heavy, when your head started to hurt, the hangover starting. You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. Neither of you moved for a long time. At some point, his hand came up to stroke long lines into your hair. And when you did, finally, fall asleep like that, he scooped you up and carried you to bed. 

He peeled back the covers and deposited you there, pulling them back up around your body afterward. He pressed a kiss into your hair and disappeared.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to an empty apartment. When you wandered into the living room, there were no empty mai tai glasses to be found, no dishes from your late-night cocktail crafting. Everything was clean and put away. 

You had no choice but to call Jihyo. 

When she answered, it was not with a hello but with the immediate, important questions. “Oh my god, how was it?”

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table, leaned back with arms crossed over your chest, thinking. 

“You’re up later than usual—does that mean it went really well?” Jihyo asked. 

What was this feeling developing in the center of your chest? It couldn’t possibly be disappointment, right? There was nothing wrong with the date. He’d been a perfect gentleman. He’d paid for the meal, walked you home, let you yell at him into the wee hours of the night. He’d even tucked you in and washed your dishes. 

But he’d hardly kissed you. 

“It was… good,” you said. 

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t bad,” you said hastily. “It was really good. It just—I just, I guess I can’t even tell if he really even likes me or not.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

You shrugged, even though Jihyo couldn’t see it. “We kissed again, but that was it—and he didn’t even seem like, eager to continue.”

“That’s… weird,” was Jihyo’s analysis of the evening. You filled her in on the rest of the fine details. The restaurant, the banter, the moments of tension. “Maybe he’s just being careful?” she suggested. “Like he doesn’t want you to think he just wants you for one thing.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe.”

Jihyo laughed. “So what you’re saying is that it was a really good date, but you’re annoyed he didn’t put out?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you said. 

“Kind of sounds like what you’re saying.”

“I’m hanging up now,” you said. 

And you did. 

It wasn’t long before you heard from Yunho again. Before another date was scheduled. Before you were calling Jihyo afterward again to recount the same news. The lack of news. And then it happened again. You were beginning to think the worst, that he didn’t want you. When he pulled away from another kiss on the night of your fourth date, two weeks into whatever it was the two of you were doing together, you threw your hands out in exasperation. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” you asked. 

He folded his arms over his chest. “Hm?” he asked. Then, what you said must have registered with him. “What do you mean?” He might have teased you if you hadn’t sounded so serious. 

You chewed on your bottom lip for a long time, trying to work up the nerve to say the words you really wanted to say. 

“I mean,” you started, but the words died on your tongue. 

He had to know. 

There was no way he didn’t. 

He lifted his hand to your face, curled two fingers under your chin, and lifted, making you hold his gaze. His eyes were sharp, brown, drowning in blown-out pupils. 

“Do you even still like me?” you asked, getting the words out. They weren’t exactly the right words, but the right words made your stomach turn. Even these ones made your heart beat faster, made your fingers twitch. Because it felt so stupid to be asking. Obviously, he liked you. 

And he laughed. 

Because, of course, he laughed. 

It was a stupid fucking question. 

“Of course, I like you,” he said, still holding your chin, still looking at you. Something knowing crossed his features, then, and you wished he would just confirm your worries without you having to actually speak them aloud. 

“Then why don’t you want me?” you asked, voice small and timid. 

His hand moved to the side of your face, his fingers dipping into your hair, holding you. “You think that I don’t want you?” he asked. 

“I mean, it’s the only reasonable explanation,” you stammered, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“It’s not reasonable,” Yunho said. 

Then, he dropped his hand from your face, slipping his palm into yours instead. He tugged you toward his door, away from your apartment—where he was previously dropping you off for the evening. You don’t even remember what his excuse had been. Something about having to work in the morning. 

You let him lead you down the hall, toward his apartment. You would have followed him anywhere. He didn’t speak, just walked with you trailing behind. The short distance felt so much longer when you had to cross it without knowing what was on his mind. 

As soon as you were inside, the door closed behind you, and he had you pressed against it, the cold metal interior, the doorknob just to the side of your hip. He didn’t kiss you. Just held you caged between his arms, elbows next to your shoulder, forearms resting against the door next to your head. 

You cleared your throat. Breathing felt like an impossibility, like all of the air had been sucked fully and totally out of the room, with his face so close to yours, his eyes studying every movement you made. 

“What were you saying?” you asked, voice just above a whisper. “About it being unreasonable?”

He ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and it was so much hotter than it had any reason to be. 

How high did he keep the heat in his apartment? Why did it feel like you were absolutely drenched in sweat? Your hands were clammy, your fingers tense at your side. You didn’t touch him, even though you wanted to. You weren’t afraid of being rejected. You knew that wasn’t what this was, exactly. But you were too curious to move. 

Curious about what he would do—what he wanted. 

Yunho shifted his weight, pressing against the door with one arm, in order to lean slightly back, to run the pads of his pointer and middle finger along your jawline. Your eyes stayed locked on his, watching him as he followed the movement of his hand. They flicked back to you, dark and deep. He cleared his throat, parted his soft, almost heart-shaped lips, to speak. 

“I was trying,” he started, voice still gravely despite his attempt at clearing it. “To be a gentleman.” 

Your lips formed into an oh, and you swallowed thick, trying to gather the confidence to say the next thing. To make the words known. “You don’t have to be.”

His fingers stilled on your jaw, and his dark brown eyes—overflowing with want—caught yours. You tried to keep your gaze neutral, but you could tell by the way he was looking at you that it wasn’t a success. 

One corner of his lips quirked up first, just before the smirk drew across his face. Brows slightly raised, eyes inquisitive. 

He was still so close to you, leaning in just an inch away from your lips. You could have closed the distance if you wanted to, but there was something appealing about this game the two of you had started playing the moment the door to his apartment closed. Like it was something tangible between the two of you that could be grabbed at any moment, but you both tiptoed around it, careful and curious. 

Yunho’s hand fell to your neck, his knuckles dragged downward, skittering over your pulse and making your heart beat faster. 

“So jumpy,” he said. “How long have you been thinking about this?” he asked. “About saying something?” 

Your lips parted, but the confidence in your brain didn’t meet the confidence of the real-life situation, couldn’t face the way he was looking at you. Words died on your tongue, and he looked at you like he could see the entire process. Your struggling only made his smirk more proud. 

“Really interesting,” he said, voice still low and gravely, but soft—too. A tool he used for inspection. “I was trying to be a gentleman for you, and you were thinking about—what?” he asked. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he lowered his lips to the edge of your ear. You tried to collect your thoughts, tried to figure out how to navigate this new situation. This was the Yunho you were more familiar with. The one who poked and prodded at you. Who teased you in the living room, who was downright difficult. 

It was the gentlemanly version of him that you’d been unfamiliar with, that you didn’t know quite how to handle. 

“Oh, now she’s quiet,” he commented. “You had so much to say not even five minutes ago.”

“Five minutes ago, you didn’t have me pressed up against a wall,” you said, trying to steady your voice into something that sounded any semblance of calm, even if you didn’t feel it. 

He slipped his hand into your hair at the base of your neck. “How long have you been thinking about it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, tilting your head up as you ran your tongue over your lower lip. 

Yunho laughed dryly under his breath. “Is that right?” 

“That’s right,” you repeated. 

“I was going to be so nice to you, baby,” Yunho whispered, breath curling against your ear. “Was going to treat you so good, too. Now, I’m not sure you deserve it.” 

Your mouth fell open. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back to look at you, to read the shock running its way across your face. “You want to play pretend now—pretend you haven’t been thinking about it, pretend you didn’t just ask. I can play, too.” 

“I just—” you start. “You weren’t—” 

“What wasn’t I doing?” he asked, one brow quirked upward. He wanted actual, tangible answers. 

The way he spoke made everything in your brain stop working. All the lights turned off, and it was just fizzling, crackling energy left behind. Nothing that converted the thoughts into words. You were left just staring at him, mouth opening for a moment before your lips pressed together again. 

Yunho was patient. He didn’t speak. Just kept his hand laced through your hair, kept that same look leveled on you. It didn’t help, but it certainly didn’t hurt, either. 

“Let’s recap,” he said after a moment. “You asked me why I don’t want you. Which, I’m not sure where you got that idea, but that’s not important. And I asked you how long you’ve been thinking about this. And what was it that you said?” he asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A small smile crept across your lips in delight at the way he spoke, the way his words got faster the more irritated he got with trying to figure you out. It was nice to be the one to get under his skin for once. 

He shook his head in disbelief, but you could see the hint of a smile on his lips, too. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, this back and forth. 

“I don’t,” you said, a proud smile on your lips now. “Know what you’re talking about.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. 

“You know if you keep playing innocent, you’re not going to get what you want. What we both know you want,” he said. 

You pressed your lips into a pout. He couldn’t resist. He removed his hand from your hair and touched the center of your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, dragging gently downward. “You don’t have to pout,” he said. “Just tell me how long you’ve been thinking about it—and don’t lie.”

Speaking didn’t appeal to you. Instead, you parted your lips around his thumb and leaned just slightly forward so the pad landed flat atop your tongue. 

He did it again, ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek in an attempt to mask his frustration. He hummed, a disapproving sound laced with something else. Like he enjoyed it, but didn’t want to indulge. 

“That’s not going to work on me, beautiful,” he said, pulling his thumb slowly out of your mouth. He dropped his hand to the space right below your neck, holding it ever-so-gently. He leaned in slowly, so his lips were only a fraction from yours. 

Your body reacted before you could stop it, leaning slightly forward to try to capture his lips. He pulled back, holding you firm against the door with one hand. “Ah, ah,” he said. 

“You don’t want to kiss me, Yunho?” you asked, pouting. “I mean, I kind of got that impression on our dates, but I thought maybe I was wrong.” 

He ran his tongue over his gums, just under his lower lip, and you could tell you were driving him insane, too. 

But you kept going. “If you don’t really want me, I could just go home,” you said. 

“Never said that,” he said. He took one of your hands, hanging useless at your side, and placed it atop the taut material and the hard length underneath it, lowering his lips to your ear again to whisper, “I want you, but not before you tell me what I want to hear.” 

He didn’t hold your hand to him, but yours lingered, regardless. You moved your palm against him, and he worked hard to keep his expression neutral, to not break immediately underneath your touch. After a few moments, he pulled your hand away, holding it tight in his. 

“Come on, baby,” he said. “How long?” The tip of his nose ran along the shell of your ear, and you shuddered under the sensation. Goosebumps rose on your forearms, and the heat of the apartment had only increased. “How long were you thinking about this while I was focused on treating you right, being a gentleman?” 

He kissed the hinge of your jaw. “I just want to know how long it took,” he said, pressing another kiss lower, along your jawline. “Was it the first date?” he asked. “Or the second?” Another kiss, this time at the top of your neck. You angled your head away from him, giving him better access. He didn’t comment, but you could feel the pride tug at the corner of his lips. “You must have been really frustrated to ask.” He dragged his teeth downward, then bit gently. “Were you frustrated?” 

All the bravado disappeared, and you were left, mouth open, victim to his ministrations, trying to figure out exactly how you could argue against this idea that you had been thinking about him like this nonstop for the past two weeks. 

You could no longer find a good reason to continue frustrating him. 

“The night you drove me home,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, like it was embarrassing to admit. His smile grew against your skin in an instant. 

“Mmm,” he hummed against your skin. “The kiss in the elevator really did it for you?” 

“No,” you said, like it was an instinct to shut him down. 

He only chuckled into the crook of your neck. 

“Is this what I have to look forward to?” he asked. “You being a brat?” 

“No,” you said, cocky smile across your face. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said, exasperation seeping into his words, seconds before his lips were on yours. You were all talk. The moment his lips touched yours, you came alive against him. It was a taste of what you wanted, and you immediately didn’t want it to end. You pushed away from the door, letting your arms fall over his shoulders as you pressed your body into his. His hands fell to your waist, then slid around to your back, holding you against him. 

Yeah, sure. Maybe you were impatient. Maybe you’d been thinking about this for weeks. Maybe you didn’t want him to know just how much you’d been thinking about it, how much your body absolutely craved his. But when your hands dropped to the buttons of his shirt, he didn’t complain. He didn’t make you stop to recite the answers to any questions. 

He just smiled against your lips, proud, like he’d won something. 

Your fingers grazed his bare skin as you worked further down. He deepened the kiss, angling forward as he tilted your head back, slipping his tongue between your lips. Yunho’s fingers dug into the cloth covering your hips, and your fingers stalled on his shirt. You reached for his skin instead, wanting to touch anything you could. You put one hand flat on his chest, but he was quick to loop a hand around your wrist and pull it away. 

“Hey,” you mumbled into his lips. 

He gave no response, only laced his fingers through the hand he’d stolen and pinned it back against the door as he continued to kiss you, running his tongue along yours. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, breaking apart from your mouth, breaths ragged, forehead touching yours. “At anytime,” he said. 

You nodded, but remained silent. Hoping for the continuation of whatever he was doing, his lips on your again, his hands exploring your body. Any of it. You didn’t care. You’d take what he was willing to give. You might even say thank you.

He kissed you again, dragging your lower lip into his mouth as his fingers inched toward the hem of your shirt. One hand snuck underneath it. His knuckles grazed your bare stomach, and you jumped. He smiled into the kiss, and you rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, muttering the words against you between kisses. “I’m barely touching you.”

“I’m fine,” you hissed. His lips found the column of your neck again, however, and you began to question the declaration. 

He chuckled again, letting the sound reverberate through you as his fingers climbed further up your abdomen. 

Your head lolled backward, resting against the door behind you, the rest of your body arched forward into him. 

“You give up on the shirt?” he asked, eyes glancing between the two of you, to the few buttons holding his shirt together. 

“No,” you said. 

His hand still held one of yours pinned to the door. You reached between your bodies with your free one and worked on the button. It kept slipping free from your fingers at the same time as your soft moans. He bit your pulse point, sucking your skin into his mouth gently at first and then harder. Your lids fluttered closed, and the fabric fell out of your hand again. 

“Come on,” he said. 

His other hand slipped under your bra, cupping your breast. You almost had the last button done when his thumb ran over your nipple. “Yunho,” you hissed in annoyance. 

“Want me to stop?” he asked, lifting his lips from your neck just enough to catch your gaze, his thumb still moving back and forth across your nipple inconsistently, making it impossible to get used to. 

“It would be easier,” you said. “If I could use my other hand.” 

“Huh,” he said. “That’s too bad.” Then, he dropped his lips to your neck again, kissing lower, grazing them along the length of your collarbone. 

You finally did get the last button, then used your one free hand to attempt to push the fabric back off his shoulders. You tugged against his hand, trying to free yourself from the grip. He held firm, didn’t even so much as budge. But he felt your attempt, and that had him grinning. 

“Need help?” he asked. 

“Nope,” you said. You had most of his chest revealed, and that was good enough for you. You reached out for it, running just the tips of your fingers down the center. He didn’t stop you this time, letting you explore him. 

He released your hand then, only for his own benefit, to grab the hem of your shirt with both hands and lift it up and over your head. 

You stood apart for a second, looking at one another. His eyes fell to your chest, your cleavage. His tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. You were too busy getting the rest of his shirt off to notice the way he looked at you. 

The break only lasted a moment, but it might as well have been an eternity of not touching one another. Of studying what was before you and wanting it. You both seized forward at the same time, your lips colliding as hands roamed over bodies. Yours found his shoulders, slid down his arms over his biceps, then back up. His went to your waist, around to your back. One fiddled with the strap of your bra before unhooking it in a swift motion. 

He didn’t break the kiss, just took a half-step back as he pulled the straps off your shoulders and down. Once your bra was on the floor in the growing pile of clothes next to you, he pulled away again to look at you. His lips were on your skin again in no time, working downward as his hand moved upward. He rolled one nipple between thumb and forefinger as he kissed a circle around the other. 

Your body tensed under his ministrations, and you were certain this man was going to be the absolute death of you with his knowing looks and his slow touches. Heat started in your stomach and dripped dangerously low at every caress. But you tried to keep your cool, tried to handle it. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being putty in his hands. 

Yunho hummed a sound of happiness as he sucked, flicking your nipple with his tongue. Your hands threaded into his hair. 

His hands fell to your pants, unbuttoning the top button. “Take these off,” he said, and you finished the job, stepping out of them as he kissed back upward, taking his time. His fingers teased at the waistband of your underwear. 

You sucked in a breath, hot and sharp between your teeth. The door pressed cold lines into your back, and Yunho’s fingertips continued to flutter atop the band, teasing. The heat of the moment and the cold of the metal did not grant you equilibrium but only contributed to the building feeling of overstimulation that you know he would absolutely revel in if he could read your mind. 

Maybe he could read your mind, because he smirked against your skin for at least the tenth time in so many minutes, and you were starting to think he knew every nasty thought you’d ever had. 

It was a stalemate, because you knew that he wanted you restless. He wanted you begging. But you didn’t want to voice another word, another request, didn’t want to do what he told you to do. Unfortunately, you also really wanted him to slip his fingers lower. 

He watched you, too, like he knew you were making this calculation. 

He placed his hand across your stomach as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Just say it,” he whispered. “I know you want to.”

He lifted your chin with his fingers as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. His eyes were dark and heavy, full of clear desire. The word no died on your tongue. 

But neither did he wait for you to ask. He held your eye contact as he moved his hand between your thighs, humming as he ran the pads of his fingers along your clothed slit. “Nice and wet for me, hm?” 

He pushed your underwear to the side, dragged his middle finger through your folds, and then slipped it inside of you to the knuckle. 

“See, I can be nice,” he said.

You choked on a gasp and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he held your chin firm, keeping his eyes on you. He moved his finger slowly as you adjusted. His eyes traced your expression, the subtle part of your lips, the way your eyes rolled slightly backward. And you studied his, too. The hooded gaze as he watched you, the way his smirk got cockier every time you reacted to the movement. 

There was no escaping his careful eye. He caught every soundless gasp, every subtle movement.  

He liked you like this, falling apart and trying to keep yourself together at the same time. Not wanting to give in to him, but wanting everything he had to give. He liked teasing it out of you, that desire. 

Your lids fluttered closed as he stroked just the right spot, curling his finger to meet it. 

“Eyes open,” he said. His voice was firm, but not sharp. Commanding in a gentle kind of way. 

It didn’t make you want to listen. 

“Or what?” you challenged, eyes still closed. 

“Or I’ll stop,” he said. And he did. 

Your eyes flew open, and he couldn’t help the breathy laugh that fell off his lips. 

“You’re trying so hard, baby, but your body keeps giving you away,” Yunho said, a hair away from your lips, before he kissed you. 

He slipped another finger inside of you at the same time, and your body arched forward, your hands reaching for something to hold onto and finding his shoulders with ease. You groaned into his mouth, both at the feeling and his words. 

“God,” you moaned, breaking away from his lips to catch your breath. He didn’t go far, instead dropping his lips to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin until you felt like you were melting. You rolled your hips against his hand, wanting more, and he gave it without a word. His thumb ran over your clit, sending a shudder through your body. “Yunho, oh my god,” you muttered, hands digging into his shoulders. 

It was all too much. His teeth on your neck, his fingers moving fast inside you, curling, and his thumb running circles over your clit at a pace that made everything ache. 

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, voice gravely, breath hot on your neck. 

He didn’t slow his pace, so you could barely voice the words you wanted to say. All that came out was a breathy, “Don’t stop.”

And he was smirking again, running his tongue over your pulse before whispering, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Your hips kept rolling into his fingers, but he managed to keep the dizzing pressure on your clit as you squirmed. He took a step into you, pressing you up against the door again. One of his legs snuck between yours, and he used his upper thigh to hold you in place. 

He had you on the edge, about to teeter over, every muscle in your body so tense you were almost shaking. 

Then, he did exactly what he said he wouldn’t. He stopped. He dragged his fingers out of you slow, removed his thumb from your clit, and met your eyes. He struggled to keep your gaze, his eyes falling to your heaving chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

You groaned and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he caught it, holding you forward by the neck. 

“Aw, you don’t like being teased, baby?” he asked, looking down his nose at you. 

You whimpered, moving your hips against his thigh in search of something. He only pinned you harder, keeping you from moving at all. 

He lifted his hand, slick with you, and tapped your lower lip. “Open,” he said. 

Your lips fell open, and he placed both of his fingers on the flat of your tongue. You closed your lips around them. He pressed down on your tongue, and you licked from the base of his finger to the tip without breaking the very direct eye contact he made with you. 

“Look at that,” he said. “You can follow directions.” 

You rolled your eyes and bit down gently on his fingers. He hooked his fingertips just behind your teeth and pulled you forward. 

“Mm,” he hummed. “I think I like you like this—unable to talk back.”

You ran your tongue over his fingers again, tried to move your hips again, chasing anything that would give you any kind of satisfaction now that fire danced over every inch of your skin, where he touched you and where he didn’t. 

He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly as you licked them clean. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, lips crashing into yours—hungrier than before. The entire length of his body pressed up against you, anchoring you in place. You could hardly move between him and the wall, except to reach for him, to grip his arms tight in a grounding kind of way. 

He took a step away from you, dragging his lips from yours like it was the hardest decision he’d ever made. Then, he was grabbing your hand, pulling you deeper into his apartment, past the kitchen, through the living room, toward his bedroom. 

You’d been here before, seen these places before. You’d stalked through his apartment, looking for your fake boyfriend in order to drive off the women he’d slept with, you’d sat on his couch post-date, talking into the late hours of the night. 

The place seemed different now. His bedroom a completely new world. You’d only seen it in the aftermath, or with another woman sprawled out across it, waiting for his return. It was pristine now, the bed made with crisp sheets and a comfortable atop it. Pillows stacked in front of the headboard.

He guided you toward the edge of the bed, and you sat while he towered over you, hands lowering to his belt. You watched with rapt attention, tongue running between your lips. He undid his belt buckle, then the top button of his pants. He worked slowly—slower because he could tell you were watching, waiting. 

Yunho let his pants fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, and your hands shot out, touching his abdomen but trailing downward for more. You were so interested, so needy. You’d never wanted anyone as much as you wanted him, right then. 

He slipped his hands over yours, and you rolled your eyes before he could open his mouth. 

“Ask for it,” he said, looking down at you. That same smirk playing on his lips. You should have known that being with him would be like this, with all the teasing he did outside the bedroom. All the playful glances he always shot in your direction, all the comments he made. It just never occurred to you that he would be so, well, annoying. 

Why was it so hot, then? If you were so annoyed, why did his words always make that same heat pool between your legs, always make you want him even more? And why did it drive you absolutely insane anytime he asked you anything? 

You pressed your lips into a tight line, determined to be stubborn about this. 

“You don’t have to touch me,” he said. “But if you want to—I’m going to need to hear you ask.” 

He held your hands tight in his to prevent them from going anywhere. 

“You’re—”

“What, baby?” he asked, still looking down at you, not touching you anywhere other than your hands. He cocked his head to the side. “What am I?” 

“Bossy,” you said. “And kind of a pain in the ass.” 

He laughed, a full, deep one that shook his chest. “You want me to stop?” he asked, lifting one hand to tilt your chin upward. “I could be nice to you, instead. Really nice.” 

You hesitated. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. 

“Shut up,” you said, pushing against his abdomen with your intertwined hands. You grumbled under your breath. You batted your eyelashes at him. “I’d really like to touch you, Yunho. Could I, please?” 

He smirked. “Now, I don’t think you really mean that.”

“Oh, should I get on my knees?” you said, that same expression on your face—fluttering eyelashes, like you’d do anything he wanted if he really wanted it. 

“Only if you want to, beautiful,” he said. He freed your other hand, too. 

You hooked your fingers into the band of his boxers and pulled them down, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you slid off the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him. He watched, silently, one hand coming up to gather your hair away from your face. 

One of your hands lifted to wrap around him. He was big, you had to admit. And you couldn’t keep the look off your face. Like you were drunk on want. Like he was all you could possibly think about. 

You leaned forward, flattened your tongue against the underside of the tip, eyes flicking up to meet his as you did, watching for a reaction. He didn’t hold back as you did, but let you watch as his lips parted. His hand tightened in your hair, and you gasped as you took him into your mouth—shallow at first, as you got used to the size. 

Slowly, you took him deeper. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so good.” 

He rolled his hips once, slow, as he held the back of your head. 

“That okay?” he asked, his voice dropping to one much more gentle than how he’d been speaking to you. 

You nodded as best you could with your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

Another slow roll of his hips, and he was reaching your throat. You dropped your hands from him and looked up. You stopped moving, letting him take control instead. He held the back of your head firm and rolled his hips again and again, a little harder each time. 

Each time he hit the back of your throat, your eyes stung. His grip in your hair tightened, and you moaned around him, which only made him thrust into your mouth faster—harder. 

Tears stung in the corners of your eyes, but neither of you stopped. 

“God,” Yunho hissed again, hips bucking, snapping forward into you one more time before he pulled out fast. 

“Get up,” he said, and you stood—no attitude needed. 

He wiped the tears from under your eyes, the drool from your mouth, then spun you around and pressed you down, into the mattress. He reached into the drawer next to his bed, ripped open a condom with his teeth, and rolled it on, keeping one hand on your lower back. 

He guided the tip of his cock to your entrance and dragged it through your folds. “Still so wet, and I wasn’t even touching you,” he said. 

You couldn’t get a single word out. Your face was buried in the bedspread. He pushed just the tip inside of you, and every muscle in your legs went taut, seizing up. 

“Relax, baby,” Yunho said, moving forward another inch, reveling in the stretch, the feeling of tightness as you clamped down hard around him. Your hands were already balled into the fabric next to you, your teeth already biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from whimpering. You pushed back against him, trying to get more. 

His hands came up to hold your hips, preventing you from moving. He slid forward another inch, slowly, enough to make you ache. 

“Please,” you begged, needing all of him way faster than he was willing to give it. 

You could practically hear the smirk appear behind you as he rolled his hips forward into you, filling you up. 

A jagged gasp escaped your lips. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, twitching, betraying his resolve. But he didn’t move. He kept one hand on your hip, then ran the other down your spine, making you shiver. 

“Yunho,” you whimpered. 

“Something you want, hm?” he asked, voice low and dark, like he was holding back from what he wanted, too, just to break you down even further. 

You gritted your teeth. “Yes,” you said, forcing the word out. 

He traced lazy circles on your back. “Tell me.” 

“Yunho,” you moaned again, trying to move your hips against them again. 

He stilled them once more. “I want to hear you say it.” 

“Say what?” you teased—only punishing yourself. 

He shifted only slightly, enough to remind you what you wanted. He grabbed your shoulder, pulled you back against him, pushing his cock even deeper into you, making you gasp into the blankets. “Tell me what you want from me.” 

“God, Yunho,” you muttered, thighs starting to shake. “I want you,” you said. “I don’t know—I want you, I just want you.” 

He laughed dryly under his breath and rewarded you with a slow roll of his hips. “Not specific enough,” he said. 

You groaned again, exasperated and desperate. 

“I don’t—” you started, another slow, agonizing thrust. “I don’t—” 

“You know,” he said. “You just don’t want to say it.”

He pulled out of you slow, then snapped his hips forward, taking you to new levels of desperation. 

“You’re—” you stumbled over your words. “You’re being so mean.”

He stilled again, giving you time to process, to think. He massaged circles into your hip with his palm. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said, through gritted teeth. He started slow again, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that fell off your lips immediately, giving you away. “I want you so bad, please. Yunho, please,” you begged. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you want me to say?” you hissed, irritated. “That I want you to fuck me until I see stars?” 

His fingers dug into your hip, and you knew you’d hit the mark. 

“Look at you, so good with your words,” he commented. 

His hips snapped forward again, deeper this time, faster. He established a rhythm. “Fuck—” you started, only to be interrupted by your own gasps. “You.” 

He slammed into you until you were stuttering, barely even able to say his name or mutter any other profanities. Your thighs were still shaking, legs tense and tight, especially as you arched into him, standing on your toes to lift your ass even higher. He put his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place before him, not letting you shift forward with every thrust—instead taking all of him with each deep stroke. 

It didn’t take long for you to start crumbling against him. He’d had you on the line for a long time, and your body could hardly take it anymore. Your thighs clenched, walls slamming down around him. 

“You wanna come, baby?” he asked, voice soft and deep, just above a whisper. You could hear the desire dripping from it, and it only made it more difficult to hold back. 

You nodded, whimpering as he kept up the pace, holding you and slamming forward again and again. He reached forward and grabbed your hair at the root, pulling you back. Your fingers tightened in the bedspread as the orgasm crashed into you, over you, through you, and you pressed yourself back against him as hard as you could, taking everything he could give as everything tightened so hard it was nearly unbearable. 

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed as you came undone, falling limp beneath him. His pace slowed into long, languid strokes before he pulled out. 

With his hands on your hips, he turned you over, and you let him. Your face was flushed, your chest hot and red, your lips swollen from earlier kisses, and your hair a mess from his hands. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. 

You let out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to his cock, still hard. You must have read his mind, because as he crawled onto the bed toward you, you moved away, sliding up so you could rest your head atop the pillows. 

Your knees were folded up, thighs pressed together. 

He slipped a hand on the inside of your knee and pushed them open so he could crawl between, moving up your body. Your hands went to his shoulders immediately, looking for something to grab before he touched you anywhere. 

Yunho pressed a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, the side of your nose. 

“Can you take more, baby?” he asked. 

You nodded, lip between your teeth. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he asked. 

You shook your head, and he laughed, dropping his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss, such a stark difference from the previous few and their feverish nature. 

He slipped a hand between your bodies, slipping a finger inside of you quickly, in and then out, before lining himself up with your entrance again. You sucked in a breath before he even moved. In one fluid motion, he sheathed himself fully inside of you. You shared the same gasp, mangled between kisses. 

Everything felt immediately intense. Each stroke lighting a new fire. He seemed intent on wrecking you completely, because his fingers moved quickly to find your clit. He put pressure on it with two fingers, letting the movement of his thrusts provide the friction. 

He sat up and pulled your hips down on him as he slid into you over and over again. 

“Yunho, oh my god,” you said through heavy breaths, the combination of sensations making you dizzy, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. 

Your sounds only encouraged him further, and soon his own grunts joined with your moans. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, not stopping to give you a second to calm down, only taking the sensation higher and higher. You squirmed, trying to get away from him, trying to stop the overstimulation, the feeling of everything being encompassed in wet, hot fire, but he didn’t let you move an inch. 

You threw your head back against the pillow in defeat, letting your hips roll against his. He lifted one of your legs, leaning it against his shoulder as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You had to close your eyes—and he didn’t stop you, didn’t demand your attention, just kept touching and thrusting, and holding you until it was all too much. 

“I can’t—” you started, hips stuttering as your core tightened impossibly, strangling him inside of you. He groaned as you came, and you felt him twitch inside of you at the same time as he fucked you through your second orgasm of the night, until you were lying nearly boneless beneath him. And then he was still, too, collapsing on top of you, gathering you into his arms. 

You breathed heavily together for some time. Yunho pressed soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach and smoothed your hair away from your face. 

It was a long time—intertwined just like that—before he got out of bed to clean up. As soon as he returned, it was to gather you into his arms all over again, to hold you flush against his skin, to kiss your lips soft and slow. 

“That was—” you started, even though there were no words in the known world to finish the sentence properly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Really was.”

You nestled your face deeper into his neck, and he held you even tighter, like he was worried you were going to go somewhere. 

When he spoke again, it was quiet, just above a whisper. “I really like you, you know.” 

You peeled away from him enough to catch his eyes. There was a bit of worry in them. Your hand shot out to touch his cheek. 

“I really like you, too,” you said. 

He cleared his throat. “Haven’t really—you know, dated anyone,” he said. “In a while.”

The words hung between you for some time. 

“I want to, though. I mean, I want to keep dating you,” he said. 

You laughed under your breath. He was cute when he was flustered. “Good,” you said, touching the tip of his nose with yours before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I want that, too.” 

“Sex was that good, huh?” he teased, and you pushed his shoulder. “Kidding.”

“It was good, though,” you said, pointedly. “But that’s not the only reason. A silver lining, definitely.” 

this was one of the quietest saturday nights you’d had in a long time.

candles were lit, sheets were washed, your hair was freshly blown out. the rest of the sorority house was near silent with everyone out and about for the night. you were mostly alone, aside from whoever chose to stay in for the night to catch up on assignments. it was a welcome change—not that you minded knocking back shots on a saturday, but you enjoyed taking time to yourself every so often.

of course, that was an incredibly short-lived ambition the second you hear shouting coming from down the block.

it’s nearly midnight when you’re interrupted in the middle of your novel—and come on, they were just about to fuck—when the familiar sound of someone doing a keg stand echoes through the street. you groan and shove your sheets off, shoving your feet into fuzzy bedroom slippers and slipping into an oversized jacket.

“i’m gonna kill him,” you grumble under your breath, grabbing your keys from the holder beside the door and storming out into the night air. as the panhellenic council’s vice president and your own sorority’s president, you were responsible for any risk management. that included noise complaints, one that you were sure to expect if the atz house didn’t shut the fuck up.

“hongjoong!” you shout as you storm down the sidewalk, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him away from the crowd that circled the two men being held over two beer kegs by their ankles.

“uh oh,” jaehyun, hongjoong’s little, jumps and shuffles away from you nervously. “mom and dad are fighting again.”

the atz president beams at you, a sheepish smile hanging from his lips as he rocks on his heels. you can see the flush from the liquor on his cheeks, his tousled brown hair falling over his face.

“nice slippers,” he comments, gesturing to your bedroom slides. you look down at the bear-shaped shoes and roll your eyes.

“i would have had time to put something nicer on if i didn’t need to rush over here to tell you to keep it down,” you scold, poking a finger into his chest. hongjoong pouts, an expression you usually found endearing. tonight, however, he was cutting into your much-needed self-care routine. “you guys have already had two noise complaints just this month. are you trying to get a third?”

“i can’t help that we’re the most fun!” he contests, throwing his arms out and gesturing to the ongoing party behind him. you feel the familiar pull of wanting to enter the crowd, to climb onto one of their random folding tables and dance the night away. even then, you held firm and glared at hongjoong sternly. luckily, one look was all it took with him. “okay, okay. i’ll try to get them to hang inside. is that better?”

“yes,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you.”

“anytime, doll,” he nods, tousling your hair before he darts back into the crowd. you have little time to scold him for ruining your blow out when you watch him clap his hands, guiding the atz brothers and their guests back into the house and backyard. it’s amazing how quickly they listen to him, grabbing their coolers and cups and scurrying inside.

“sure you don’t wanna come in for one drink?” hongjoong calls from the porch, leaning against the front doorframe as the party carries on behind him. “mingi made this mango thing. it’s pretty fire.”

“tempting, but no,” you reply, gesturing to your pajamas. “i’m clocked out for the night. and we’re going to brunch tomorrow, anyway.”

“who’s we?” he asks, a teasing smile hanging from his lips. “cheating on me?”

“not that it’s your business, but no,” you scoff, trying not to match his grin. “i’m going downtown with the girls.” you stretch and turn on your heel to head back to the sorority house. “i’ll see you later. and keep it down!”

“no promises,” he sings back, shutting the door behind him.

you’re up bright and early on monday morning, fidgeting with your campus sweatshirt on the way to the university auditorium for orientation week. admin had asked greek life to be present for the incoming freshman introductions, which meant you needed to put on your best face. you smile to yourself at the younger teenagers squirming in their seats, the way that they look at you and whisper under their breath about who you could be. they remind you of yourself a couple of years ago, just before you had decided to rush.

there’s a long panel set up on the auditorium stage with enough chairs for each of the greek life presidents. you greet the others with a wave, settling into your seat behind your placard and perking up at the sight of a coffee cup in front of you.

“for the lady, an iced white chocolate mocha,” hongjoong hums, bowing his head from his seat next to you. a sip of caffeine jolts you awake and you hum contentedly. “the line at the cafe was insane this morning.”

“well, i still appreciate it,” you thank him, patting his thigh once. “oh! we should probably get together soon.”

“finally giving me a chance?” he jokes, his voice low as he arches a brow at you.

“sure,” you laugh, shaking your head. “no, we need to meet up to start planning for rush week. i guess today can be a good vibe check to see who’s interested.”

“oh, they’ll be interested,” hongjoong says, sure of himself as he surveys the potential younger brothers in the crowd. “atz has a rep around these parts, y’know.”

“tell me about it,” you reply in mock agreement, sipping on your coffee again as the event starts.

you watch hongjoong with admiration as he morphs into an entirely different person. he commands the room, sharing his experience juggling being a student with greek life. he paints a beautiful picture of the philanthropy work atz engages in and the strength of their brotherhood. hell, he was a good enough saleman to get you to rush. you glance out at the incoming freshmen, the way the younger men seem hooked on his every word.

“not to mention, our lovely ladies that partner with us pretty often.” hongjoong turns to you and the other sorority presidents, bowing with his gaze fixed on you in particular. “they tend to keep us in check when we need to reel it in.” the other sorority presidents giggle amongst themselves, commenting on how charming hongjoong was. you simply shake your head, the small smile on your face betraying you.

hongjoong joins you on your walk back to greek row, listening as you ramble on about ideas you had for rush week events and what the council could collaborate on. he nods along, offering helpful input every so often and praising your ideas. the sun beats down on you as a reminder of the summer coming to an end.

“hey.” you turn to hongjoong, your eyes flickering up to his. you smile at him warmly. “i just want you to know i’m really looking forward to senior year with you. it’ll be fun.”

something unreadable flickers across his face before he mirrors your smile, although it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “yeah, me too.”

rush week throws you and hongjoong for a spin. events every night, your phone blowing up with questions from dozens of pledges. what to wear, where the university center was, whether or not they could bring a plus-one. you felt like a certified event planner with the amount of work you were putting into this, especially after being thrown into one of the hardest labs you could have taken right after the ease of syllabus week.

you’re fighting sleep in a corner of the university center, surrounded by a stack of papers and an array of empty drink cups before one of the last few events. the carpet was definitely gross, but something about it looked so inviting as you lay your head to rest on your backpack for a moment.

just five minutes, you told yourself.

it was, in fact, not just five minutes.

you gasp as you shoot awake, cursing under your breath at the setting sun as you realized you had very little time to get ready. your outburst clearly startled whoever was walking by as a pair of sneakers approach you. trying to clean up your mess to head home has you too occupied to look up.

“hey, hey,” a familiar voice calls, hands grasping your shoulders. you finally crane your neck up to look at hongjoong and the panic must have been evident on your face by the way he looks concerned. “what’s up? aren't you supposed to be with the others setting up?”

“i’m going, i was just working on something for lab and then i remembered i had to do the guest list for their match ceremony but now i remember i had to bring the drinks to the mixer tonight and i didn’t get to text yunho back to use his car and now i—”

“slow down,” hongjoong urges, pressing a finger to your lips. you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as the nerves eat away at you. “you’ll be fine. go home and get ready. i’ll text yunho to pick up whatever we usually get for mixers for you guys, too. is that okay?”

“yeah,” you reply. “yeah. thanks. i owe you big time.”

“you don’t owe me anything, doll,” he scolds, pinching your cheek and earning a firm slap across his bicep. “just look pretty for me tonight, okay?”

“oh, i’ll look good,” you assure him, collecting your things and tossing a look at him over your shoulder as you headed back to the house. “just not for you.”

and you sure do look fucking good.

greek row is blocked off from traffic for a massive block party, the end to rush week events. all of the houses are set up, their letters and colors on full display. music is blasting at the far end of the block and you know hongjoong had to be responsible for dj’ing. it was always a hobby of his and he loved to show up for events like this. your girls had spent all day getting the front lawn ready, from balloons to posters and everything in between.

you stood on the curb, red solo cup in hand with your usual as you chat with some of the pledges. they giggle at the frat houses with flushed cheeks and you stifle a laugh, watching as they freak out over the way wooyoung corrals them into the street for a drinking game. everyone else crowds near the dj booth, music bumping and creating a massive dance floor.

one of the pledges nudges your shoulder, her eyes fixated on hongjoong.

“what’s up?” you ask, peering at her over the edge of your cup.

“i was just wondering …” she pauses, biting down on her bottom lip in thought. her free hand tugs at the hem of her shorts. “… is it weird for a freshman to hit on a senior?”

“well, it depends,” you answer honestly, already clocking that she was implying hongjoong. a sudden territorial feeling crawls up your spine that catches you off guard. “anyone in particular?”

“i mean …” she scoffs, pointing over at the dj booth where hongjoong was accepting a shot of vodka straight from the bottle from another atz brother. he swallows, his tongue running along his bottom lip to catch the last drop before he cheers and returns to the turntable. “he’s pretty hot.”

well, she’s definitely not a shy freshman.

“i’ll be honest, i’d stay away from seniors as a freshman.” you tap the rim of your cup to hers. your answer is genuine, aside from the gnawing feeling inside of you that you didn’t quite recognize. “not worth the ptsd.”

“hm.” she nods once, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment before she mutters goodbye under her breath and returns to the rest of the pledges she had come with. the moment she’s gone, you sigh and take a long sip of your drink. you look back towards the dj booth and still.

hongjoong’s eyes are locked on you.

not in an obvious way, because he never is. but even through the crowd and all of the noise, he still manages to catch your eye. his mouth curves in one corner just slightly when he notices you staring back, like he knows that you were talking about him.

“thought you’d be front and center in the dance floor by now,” a deep voice interjects, forcing you to turn away from hongjoong. you roll your eyes at seonghwa, another one of the atz seniors that was already buzzing from the liquor. a lazy smile hangs from his face and you chuckle before accepting a refill from the bottle of tequila in his grip.

“i’m supervising,” you reply with a playful roll of your eyes.

“mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “then supervise from the dance floor. c’mon.”

before you can protest, he takes your wrist and pulls you along through the crowd to the center just in front of hongjoong’s setup. you can’t help but giggle at seonghwa’s enthusiasm, happily obliging when he cradles the back of your head to offer you a shot from the bottle. you hum your appreciation, swallowing in one go while seonghwa sets the bottle at the edge of hongjoong’s table.

“make sure no one takes it, bro!” he orders, his voice cracking just slightly and earning a chuckle out of hongjoong as he salutes him with one hand and scratches the turntable with the other. seonghwa joins you, matching your rhythm as you finally get the chance to let loose after being on the go nonstop all week.

you sing along at the top of your lungs, hands running through your hair as you sway along with seonghwa. he pulls you closer ever-so-slightly, his touch sending an electric current through you as you meet his gaze.

i mean, come on. you’re not blind, and it’s been a stressful week.

even then, someone else still had your full attention when your gaze flickers back to the dj booth. hongjoong is unabashedly focused on you at this point, but there’s not a hint of jealousy in his expression. instead, there was something kind of … dirty about the way he looked at you. like he got off to you getting close to another guy in front of him.

whether or not it was the alcohol, the adrenaline, the sleep deprivation or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. regardless, you let yourself lean into the moment and arched into seonghwa’s touch, draping your arms over his shoulders and letting him take the lead. he spins you by the waist, enough so that your eyes are locked on hongjoong’s when the first song begins to fade out.

and in fades a filthy reggaeton song.

the bass drops into something more sensual than before, a scattered cheer from the crowd spurring hongjoong on as he adjusts the mixers. you glance up at him, arching your brow in silent question. he smirks and raises the volume, nodding once at you as if to test you.

with a breathy laugh, you pull seonghwa even closer by lacing your fingers over his. he moves behind you, draping his forearm over your waist so you’re caged against him. he grinds against you and you hum, his body warm to the touch as he rests his chin on your shoulder. you melt against him and find it hard to focus on anything else.

well, that and the fact that hongjoong was staring at you with a ravenous gaze.

whether or not anyone else noticed, you didn’t care in that moment. you just let seonghwa bury his face in your neck and whisper something against the shell of your ear as hongjoong braced himself on the table before him, his knuckles white from gripping the surface. even in your state, you could still pick up the way his jaw tensed and his pupils grew twice in size from staring at you.

you knew him. you’ve always known him.

seonghwa turns you so that you’re pulled against his chest, still under the weight of him. you grin, threading a hand through his hair as the other rests on his shoulder. his lips ghost over yours right before the vibe shifts, hongjoong introducing a faster-paced song that cuts through the tension. the transition washes over you like ice water and you blink, easing your way out of seonghwa’s grip. luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind and waves you off with a wink before he ventures back to the atz house.

nothing else has changed. the crowd is still dancing, the music is still playing. but you turn to look at hongjoong and he swallows, finally tearing his gaze from you to adjust the turntable meticulously. before you could approach him—did you even want to?—the girls pull you back to the sorority house to help them with answering another barrage of questions from the pledges.

that night, greek row remains in full swing. hongjoong set up a curated mix he’d prepped as backup for everyone else once the pledges had returned to their dorms. it was a chance for the frats and sororities to decompress, especially after such a packed week. you finally take off your president’s hat to really let loose and find yourself standing on the atz porch surrounded by younger brothers that were egging you on to challenge one of them to shotgunning beers.

“how the fuck do you keep beating me?” heeseung grumbles through a string of burps. you cackle, crushing your can and tossing it into the recycling bin nearby.

“i don’t know, i’m just incredibly talented,” you tease, the buzz of cheap beer kicking into your system. a smile remains fixated on your face as you banter with the boys, watching as they debate who should take you on next. just as you’re about to surrender and let them compete amongst themselves, your phone vibrates against your hip and steals your attention.

hongjoong: we need to talk

your stomach dips, the sudden severity of hongjoong’s message stirring anxiety within you. was it related to rush week? did you miss something? were you forgetting to take care of something with the rest of the council?

me: is everything ok? i’m downstairs on the atz porch

hongjoong: i’m in my room, you can come up

his elusiveness freaks you out even more as you bid the younger brothers goodbye, scaling the stairs up to the third floor of the house where hongjoong had the president’s suite. in other words, a ridiculously fancy way of referring to the main bedroom of the house. the music grows faint from downstairs, along with the chatter of everyone trying to yell over one another. the third floor is much quieter and removed from the party.

you knock against the aged oak and a moment that feels like eternity passes before hongjoong pulls the door open, still clad in his outfit from earlier. a tight-lipped smile flickers across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

you’ve been in hongjoong’s room before, many a time when you needed to plan last-minute for events or handle younger greek siblings that were getting out of hand. this time felt different. there was a tension between you that was stirring ever since earlier when you danced with seonghwa in front of him, something that you never experienced with him before then.

hongjoong doesn’t speak right away, letting the silence drag on. he sets his phone down on the bedside table, not in a rush at all while you were a nervous wreck standing in the doorway. you narrow your eyes at him, wondering why he acted like he hadn’t just hit you with the most dreaded four words a girl could hear.

“you said we needed to talk,” you point out sternly.

“we do,” he agrees. even then, there’s no anxiety in his voice. “but i wanted to get you away from the noise first.”

“okay, here we are.” you gesture to his otherwise empty room. “now what?”

“relax, i’m not interrogating you.” hongjoong huffs once, something akin to a laugh as he leans against his desk with his arms folded. he gives you an earnest glance. “i just want to clear something up that i’m curious about.”

your stomach dips. “which is?”

“i flirt with you all the time,” hongjoong says plainly. “we’re around each other all the time. everyone literally calls us mom and dad. have you never …” he pauses, hesitant for the first time since you’ve known him.

“have i never what?” you urge, as if you didn’t know what he was alluding to. your heart hammers against your ribcage, any drop of alcohol in your system dissipating from the tension. 

“wondered what it would be like?” he finally asks, his gaze unwavering from yours. “if we stopped with the will-they, won’t-they shit.”

“uh—i mean—i—” you stammer, still taken aback by his confession. the party rages on outside, resounding against hongjoong’s bedroom walls in a low thump. it sounds identical to the way your heart races in response to him staring at you.

“oh, you’re nervous now?” hongjoong chuckles, his teasing sending color straight to your cheeks as you glare back at him. “you seemed fine when you were grinding on seonghwa earlier and made sure i was watching.”

“i didn’t care if you watched,” you snap defensively, almost too quickly. hongjoong scoffs.

“yeah, okay.” he rolls his eyes, pushing himself off of the desk and taking a step towards you. “so, if i said i liked watching you, you wouldn’t care?”

“well—i don’t—” you’re back to being a stuttering mess, heat rising in every inch of your body.

“or that i wish that i was the one you were grinding on like that so i could touch you and tell you exactly what i wanted to do to you tonight?” his voice is breathier now and your eyes flicker to the way his chest heaves under the confines of his shirt. his gaze flickers to your lips when you gasp.

the music downstairs transitions into a song similar to the one you danced with seonghwa to. the beat thunders against the walls and you hold hongjoong’s gaze as he takes another step closer, closing the distance. he finally crosses the invisible boundary and wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling your back against his chest so that you’re in a position identical to you and seonghwa from earlier.

as much as having a little fun with seonghwa was exciting, this was different. hongjoong’s confession hung heavy in the air and his touch was more deliberate. he traces faint strokes along your waist until he wraps his arm around you and envelops you in his warmth. he grinds against you rhythmically and you match his pace, dropping your head back against his shoulder.

“you’re drunk,” you muster through parted lips. hongjoong chuckles against your neck, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

“mm, no i’m not, baby.” he parts his lips, the warmth of his breath on your skin nearly causing your knees to buckle. his voice dips low, almost a whine against the shell of your ear. “i just really want to fuck you and i don’t know how much longer i can take it.”

“is that so?” you ask, fighting for any semblance of control over the situation as he continues to grind against you hypnotically. his fingers dig into your waist, the other hand brushing loose strands of hair from your neck so he could press a kiss to your collarbone. your mind goes into a spiral before you follow up with a weak, “since when?”

thank fuck for whatever hongjoong had added to this mix, because the sensual bass continues on into the next song.

“seriously?” he scolds, his fingers curling around your throat so you were forced to listen to his every word. “i always have. it’s gotten to the point i can’t fucking sleep at night without thinking of you.”

“can’t believe i have the atz president weak in his knees,” you rasp, relishing the feeling of his hands roaming over every inch of you. he growls, practically thrusting against you in response. an unexpected whimper slips out of you and he grins wickedly.

“oh, don’t worry,” he hums, holding you firm against him. “you won’t be able to walk by the time i’m done with you tonight.”

before you can tease him to put his money where his mouth is, he dips the hand gripping your waist into your skirt and cups the fabric covering where you’re already soaked. he presses against your clit to pull you closer, forcing you to feel every inch of his growing erection as he continues to grind into you.

he groans, tugging at the drenched fabric until it’s pulled aside and you’re bare under your skirt. just as you expect him to jut his fingers straight into you, he brings his hand to your mouth and pries your lips open. “i need you to get my fingers nice and wet for me.”

since when the fuck was he so nasty?

you hold his gaze, relishing in how feral he looked at the way you glided your tongue and took his fingers between your lips obediently. you purse your lips around his knuckles, sucking him in even deeper until his fingertips nearly hit the back of your throat. he pulls them out and slips back into your skirt. he pushes two fingers into you, knuckles deep as he falls into a steady rhythm. his free hand covers your mouth to stifle your moans, your mind hazy as you struggle to stay upright against him.

“stand up straight,” he teases, curling his fingers against your walls with every stroke. you shudder with a low, drawn-out moan against his palm. you grip his bicep and sink your nails into his flesh, earning a hiss before he bites down on your earlobe.

“what position you want me to fuck you in?” he asks huskily, picking up the pace of his fingers as he drawls against your ear. your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. his smooth talking was something you admittedly always found undeniably attractive about him, but hearing him like this was an entirely different level. “bent over the desk?”

he pumps his fingers in and out even faster, his thumb massaging your clit simultaneously. “maybe against the door so everyone can hear how hard you can take it.”

hongjoong moves his hand from your mouth and you swallow down air, trembling as your climax threatens to spill over. a whimper escapes you and he chuckles, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin behind your ear in response.

“h-hongjoong,” you mumble between heavy breaths, “i’m gonna—”

“no, you’re not,” he scolds, suddenly slipping his hand out of you. “i think you can wait a little, right?”

“you’re a dick,” you groan, shoving yourself off of him in frustration.

he bites down on his bottom lip, stifling another laugh before he guides you over to his desk like he promised. just as you reach for him to pull him into a kiss, he flips you back around so that your chest is pressed to the wood. you gasp in a mix of disbelief and frustration at his patience, arching your back instinctively so that your skirt hiked further up your thighs.

“touch yourself,” he orders, but it comes out closer to a plea than a command. you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you and another rush of pleasure trembles in your core. you oblige, your own fingers becoming slick with your wetness as you massage circles against your clit. the sensation coaxes another moan out of you as hongjoong holds his hand over yours, controlling the pressure while he frees his cock from his boxers.

he leans over you carefully, pressing tender kisses along your spine with every inch of him that sinks into you. the feeling of him filling you up sends your head spinning and you cry out in response. hongjoong grips your hips with an approving growl, moving in and out of you at a painfully slow pace.

“fucking get to it,” you snap, pushing your hips back against him in response. he scoffs and follows your lead, thrusting fast and deep into you with his fingers digging into your skin. every thrust earns a wanton cry from you as you scrape at the wooden surface, hard enough that you’re sure you left scratches in the lacquer.

hongjoong threads a hand through your hair, pulling you up just enough so that he can cup your breast under your shirt with the other. he flicks at your nipple and continues to thrust into you until you see stars.

“i need everybody in this fucking house to hear who makes you feel this good,” hongjoong snarls, shuddering when you clench around him bottoming out inside of you.

“you do," you whimper pathetically, allowing yourself to cave under the pleasure. hongjoong lands a sharp smack against your ass, the sting forcing a cry out of you.

he slips himself out of you, moving you over to the bed at the center of the room. your back hits the sheets and hongjoong wedges himself between your thighs. he hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, lowering himself onto his forearms so that he can finally capture your lips in a heated kiss.

more than getting fucked senseless by him—which was amazing, obviously—the feeling of his lips on yours was something you couldn’t have imagined. his thumb brushes against your cheek tenderly as he cups your cheek to hold you close. you can feel the way he savors it as much as you do, his thrusts slowing to give way for the moment.

of course, it’s short lived when you bite down on his lower lip and he moans into your mouth in response. he picks back up the pace and hammers into you. the sound of skin on skin sends you reeling as your climax creeps back up and jolts at your core. hongjoong senses this and angles himself even deeper, his lips still pressed to yours. he groans, fully in and out of you as you feel his tip nearly in your stomach. you moan in response to his praise and claw at his back hard enough to earn a hiss from him.

“you feel so fucking good,” you gasp, your fingers anchored onto his shoulders as you throw your head back onto the sheets. hongjoong grins, drunk off of fucking you as he presses a string of kisses from your neck to your chest. “i need to—ah—i need to come—”

“come for me, baby,” he coaxes, flicking at your clit as his pace begins to falter. you tremble under his touch and swallow down deep breaths as your orgasm threatens to spill over. it creeps in, closer and closer until your mind draws a blank and a broken cry slips out of you. pleasure rocks your body as every muscle twitches and contorts. as you come down from your high, hongjoong slows his pace just enough to not overstimulate you and buries his face in your neck.

you stroke his hair languidly as his hips begin to stagger against you, his muscles tensing as his breath grows hot against your skin.

“oh, fuck,” he whines, the sound music to your ears as you feel him come inside of you. he finally slows to a stop and fights to catch his breath, still buried in you when he cups your face to assess your reaction.

“you good?” he asks, working to steady his breath.

“yeah,” you reply, your own chest heaving in response. 

you can’t help but stare after hongjoong as he immediately snaps into his president role and searches the room for clean towels and a bottle of water for you. he sneaks downstairs for a moment, returning with a proud smile etched across his face and two drinks in hand.

“did no one ask you where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the solo cup only after you’d chugged the bottle of water.

“told ‘em there was something the panhellenic vp just had to discuss with me right this second,” he shrugs, taking a sip from his own cup. it must have been his first drink of the night. “she won’t stop bugging me, actually.”

“take it back!” you scold, tossing a pillow in his direction. he laughs, leaning over where you were sat at the edge of the bed to press another tender kiss to your lips. your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“i meant what i said, though.” hongjoong’s expression becomes serious. “i wasn’t just trying to get a quick fuck from you.”

“well, that’s reassuring,” you half-joke, patting his arm affectionately. “i’m surprised, but also … kinda not, to be honest. i mean, everyone knows you’re obsessed with me.”

“obsessed is a bit of a stretch,” he counters.

“really? i’d say it’s not far enough,” you tease, hongjoong arching a brow before he takes a long, silent look at you. it was as if he was in as much disbelief as you were that you’d actually finally crossed that line neither of you wanted to in the past. he lowers a hand to your thigh as he sits beside you, stroking it gently before taking another sip.

“you think anyone heard us?” you ask, tilting your head at the party that was still raging downstairs.

It was late fall, and the weather was starting to turn. Leaves were falling in clouds of red and yellow, and the air was crisp in the mornings. The entire week the sky was overcast, not a ray of sunshine to remind you of the warm season just past. It felt gloomy, calm, and focused on campus, and it should have been the perfect start to your favorite time of year.

It should have been. But as you sat in your Contemporary Literature class and read over the marks on your most recent paper, you felt nothing but rage.

63%. That's what he'd given you. That, and a slew of notes in red ink along every margin, telling you just how poorly you'd screwed this whole thing up. You didn't much care for contemporary books, that was the worst part; this was a class you were required to take as a part of your literature degree, and one you'd dreaded taking, no matter how many raving reviews you'd heard about the professor. It was an added slap in the face that he was so damn harsh with grading, when you really couldn't give a fuck about the books you'd been assigned to read.

It only took a week of class before you understood. His good looks, his sense of humor, his easy and flirtatious nature, those were the things that made every student love him. Class itself was a slog, but you'd been expecting that at least, and made it through your first two papers with decent grades. Only three papers and a final exam were graded in his class, and you panicked every time you hit submit, not knowing if you'd be able to pass with at least a 70% and get your much needed credits. But so far it had been fine; you'd never needed to ask him much, never seen a reason to visit office hours. You had no desire to talk to this good-looking professor, even if your mind wandered in his class. It was all too easy to picture him in all his naked glory, but a part of you knew your dreams must be too good to be true, and you'd hate to have the illusion shattered.

It wasn't out of character for you to crush on a teacher. And it wasn't that you hated him. But what good was a hot professor if he was going to fuck up all your plans?

"Hey, did he screw you too?" a voice behind you asks. You didn't bother turning around, knowing the aggravating man it had come from and exactly the conversation he was hoping for.

"Yes, obviously," you answer. Professor Jeong's a fucking asshole, you add to yourself. Dad's gonna fucking kill me.

Here on Daddy's money, you were that girl. And though it was an obvious perk, it came with one severe expectation. You would be done in four years, and never get below a C. There would be no making up credits, no re-dos. Summer was meant to be spent interning, not making up for stupid mistakes during the year. Your dad's words ring clearly through your mind as you sigh into your desk.

"Wanna go get coffee and bitch about prof for an hour?"

"No, Marcus, I have shit to do," you respond.

"One day you won't be such a bitch to me," he replies, before slinging his backpack over one shoulder and shoving his long hair out of his face. "I'm gonna go to his office hours tomorrow and give him a piece of my mind," he says as he walks past you.

"Good luck with that," you joke, staring down at the floor.

You'd been able to wear your favorite boots today, and your legs covered in black tights were a sight for sore eyes. But none of it could be enjoyed, these little beauties of life that usually brought you peace. The potential of failing this stupid class was looming, and now more than ever you were thankful for the weather, for sunny days always made your bad moods even worse, making you feel almost guilty for your negativity.

"Come to my office hours tomorrow, I have to head home now," you hear Professor Jeong tell a clearly panicked classmate, who sighs with defeat and slumps away. You look up, taking in the small room, a class with only thirty desks, dark and windowless, with bookshelves lining the back wall behind a large mahogany table. The few lamps at the front illuminated the tired and frustrated bodies of your peers as they exit to the front corner, and there is no part of you that wants to join that sad parade. There had to be a way out of this, a way to avoid your worst nightmare. There was no way you'd let your hard work of the last two years go to waste, all to be replaced with beratement from your Dad and a forced position in his company.

You'd never been overcome like this, or so determined. Something in the red ink on your perfectly printed paper had switched a flip. Paper in hand, you sling your book bag over your shoulder and storm to the front of the classroom. The last student had just slipped out, and your professor was turning off the lamp high on the right-most bookshelf, his back to you.

"I need to talk to you," you say. The force in your voice shocks you, and you take a deep breath to recover.

"My office hours are tomorrow, you can co-"

"No, I need to talk to you now."

He turns to you, peering over his shoulder before his chest has time to face you too. Instantly his gaze is piercing, a deepness in his brown eyes that you'd never noticed before. His suit is perfect and sharp and intimidating, and your knees feel wobbly as your guts roll. Who were you to be demanding such a thing from him? You had no idea where it had come from, other than the primal fear of a life lived under your Dad's severe control. Your degree was your chance to escape, and you'd stop at nothing to secure your freedom.

"I have to head home now, I can't talk to you." His voice is stern but soft, and feels like a warm breeze blowing past your cheeks and neck. A shudder runs through you, one you try your best to hide.

"Just five minutes, I'll walk with you out of the building," you reply. He lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose, crossing his arms and staring at you deeply. With a subtle shake of his head he straightens up again, grabbing his own bag off his chair and zipping it closed, before slipping it over his head. He pushes in the chair, and moves to the other lamp, looking back to you once more before clicking it off. For a brief moment the room is blanketed in complete darkness, and all you can hear is the soft rustle of trees outside blowing in the wind.

He opens the door, holding it until you exit, and locks it swiftly behind you.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come talk to me," he says, walking the opposite direction you expect, towards the back of the building. His long strides are hard to keep up with, and you balk at what to say now. There was something eery about his words, but something too that told you to keep going. This may just work, if you were willing to push through your nerves.

"My grades on my last two papers were reasonable, I didn't see any reason to come and argue with you about thos-"

"No, what I mean is, you obviously hate my class," he cuts you off.

"I- I don't, sir, I promise-"

"You don't need to lie to save my ego, I can easily tell when a student doesn't like the work I assign for them," he sighs softly.

"I just don't care much for contemporary books, I'm much more interested in historical literature. And literature written by women tends to interest me more, too," you reply. You'd reached the end of the hallway, the back double doors much shabbier than the front, but still adorned with wood carvings and leaf-shaped handles. Professor Jeong pushes the left door open with ease, holding it in silence until you exit again, rejoining you in your decent of the steps.

"Yes, I have heard this complaint a time or two, and I saw this coming from you, I know your type," he replies cooly, walking fast and still making no eye contact.

"I'm not any type of person, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," you snap, covering your mouth seconds later in regret.

"No, please, lay it all out, I am all ears. It's only about two minutes to the train station, so you'd better make use of it."

"You're seriously going to accuse me of being some "type" of student who complains about how all the books we read are by men, when your main critique of my last paper was that the perspective I took was predictable and the same as so many students before, and that I really should look outside of the box and be more creative with my thinking? When you assign the most boring, predictable, inside the box books known to man? What the hell do you expect, me to invent some deeper meaning to this whiny basic crap I'm reading?"

The words tumble out of you with force, another student you passed looking bewildered, ducking their head down and walking into the grass to avoid you. Adrenaline wracks through you, your heart pounding hard enough you could feel it in your head. You weren't sure what you were thinking, launching into such a person attack of the books he'd assigned. But once he said to lay it all out, your mind couldn't think to do anything else. You try to walk in a straight line beside him, try to keep up with his strides without completely losing your breath. A distant strike of lightning is followed many seconds later by the low rumble of thunder, and your head snaps up in your anxious state, your whole body on high alert. Seconds stretch by, as the air feels suddenly colder and your sweater far too thin. You were waiting for his professional, academic response, knowing almost surely humiliation was about to greet you. But when you finally look up, his lips are turned up in a smirk. Your eyes go wide, wondering if he was laughing, if he found your statement so pathetic and stupid that all it did was make him chuckle.

"You're funny," he deadpans, looking up to the cloudy sky. "And no, I'm not smiling, not at all." His smirk grows wider, almost to a full smile, before he turns from you and steels his face, his expression back to his typical stoicism as his eyes meet yours.

"You think your paper deserves a second look?" he asks, as you cross the bike path and walk through the strip of pine trees, before starting down the stairs to the train station.

"Absolutely, sir, I just want a second chance, maybe I can explain to you further what I meant in certain sections, help you understand- I- I'll rewrite sections if you'd like, anything for a better grade-"

You are cut off by the man in the ticket booth.

"Heading home, Mr. Jeong?" the man calls jovially, waving a large hand in his direction, a pale yellow ticket between his fingers.

"I'll take two today Mr. Choi, thank you," he replies, smoothly walking up to the booth and slipping the man two one-dollar bills.

"Have a nice ride, enjoy your evening!" the man calls as you both walk towards the platform, your boots scuffing on a crack in the stone tiles, eyes too focused on the tall broad back in front of you to notice the ground.

Already a train was approaching, and by the look of your professor, it was obvious this was his. You aren't sure why you're still following; you pull up for a second, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. The station ss teeming with people, many students and several faces you think you vaguely recognize, but amidst it all his head of black hair ss visible, so much taller than anyone else around. He walks forward a few steps before looking behind him, noticing your absence and squinting hard, trying to find you. The train was now pulling up, and his eyes were flicking between it and the direction he'd lost you, looking the least bit frantic, if that was even possible for him. As soon as the train stops people launch towards the doors, handing the ticket-man their yellow slips and hurriedly finding the seats they want.

When the crowd thins enough and he can see you again, Professor Jeong makes his way to you quickly.

"Whatever you do, don't you dare get on this train car with me," he utters, slipping one of the tickets into your hand and closing it in his. "Don't get off at Fortsmith station, and don't wait for me by the red phone booth outside."

As he walks towards the door his head turns to meet your gaze one last time, and something deep and mischievous glints in his eyes. As he enters the car, ducking low to fit through the small door, you run up behind him, handing the man your ticket too and slipping inside. A moment later the ticket-man jumps in too, sliding closed the door and locking it, sitting in his designated chair.

"How many stops to Fortsmith station?" you ask him, peering over your shoulder at the nearly packed car, only one empty seat next to a man that looked leeringly at you, in a way that made your skin crawl.

"12 stops, ma'am," the man answers, his accent thick.

"How- how many minutes is that, approximately?"

"About 40 minutes, ma'am."

You sigh, stepping out of his way. "Thank you," you add, nodding to him slightly, before turning back around to find a place to stand. When you turn, though, a different seat is empty, one you could swear had been filled by your professor just moments ago.

When you look to the right, you find him sitting by the leering old man and watching you intently. And quickly you slip yourself into that now empty seat, breathing a sigh of relief for your poor heels.

The ride was smoother than you had expected, but the stops were arduous, and each time as people filed on and off, you felt your nerves growing and shaking you. This seemed so strange, that your professor was letting you follow him, giving you the ticket and directions so you wouldn't get lost. Had your little outburst really piqued his interest? Was he only winding you up to shit on you later, in the privacy of his own home, when it was only you two? Suddenly, you realize you know nothing about this man. You aren't even sure if he lives alone, if he has a family, if anything about this little excursion iss a good idea, or if you're walking right into the den of a lion. A deep shudder runs through you when the announcement for 'Fortsmith' comes through the speakers. Only another minute, and you'll be wobbling your way out of here. You'll be in a completely foreign part of the city, not one person knowing where you were.

The station is much smaller, not underground like the University stop, the train only at a full stop for maybe thirty seconds before whisking itself off again. Only one other person steps off with you two; the woman makes quickly for the north exit of the station and disappears into the pouring rain, the cool outside air hitting you and making your body go rigid.

With a quick glance around, you spot the phone booth. It was just to the left of the south exit, visible through the glass panels of the door. As Professor Jeong exits he opens his umbrella, standing patiently by the red booth as you made your way in his direction, your body shaking. Once you exit he begins walking beside you, holding you close under the small radius of his umbrella, his large hand on your back feeling like it was searing right into your skin.

Its a short and quiet walk to the quaint street he lives on, large trees covering the sides of the small boulevard and ivy covering the stone walls of most of the houses. Each was small, only a few with a second floor, including his; it was exactly the type of place you'd expect him to live, the heavy front door creaking as he pulls it open and walks in ahead of you, quickly closing his umbrella and setting it down, and closing the door with a gentle thud once you enter.

A draft hits your wet legs and causes you to shiver again, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Inside it is dim and hazy, and soon he was pulling out a set of matches and lighting a candle on his mantle, the living room coming into view once the warm light started flickering.

"This is my office, wait in here," he says, opening a door just down the hall. When you walk in there is only the soft light of the early evening to guide you, the floor so hard to see that you reach out your hands and shuffle slowly. Once his desk comes into view you spot the ornate lamp just behind it, and carefully reach around to click it on, the room suddenly awash in a gentle pinkness.

Not unlike his classroom, the walls are covered with stacked bookshelves, but in here it was every inch, not a single bit of free space available. You walk slowly to the closest shelf, your eyes scanning over the spines. Shock rips through you as you see the authors: Dickinson, Austen, Bronte, so many of the historical women you adore. Above that shelf is a collection of more contemporary works: Cline, Hooks, Mock, your eyes just about bug out at seeing the names, breath hitching. Here was a stunning collection of so many of your favorite authors, an entire giant bookcase dedicated to the work of women, and women alone.

"You found my favorite shelf, I see." His voice is low and buttery and doesn't shock you, only makes you feel like melting into the floor. But you can't help turning suddenly and clinging to yourself, the room still feeling chilly. "You aren't in trouble, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you bring me here?" you shoot back, taking in a quick breath.

"Why did you come when I told you not to?" he replies, walking close and handing you a cup of steaming tea, the notes of lavender and honey hitting your nose.

"You- you obviously wanted me to come, you told me exactly where to get off-"

You cut yourself off at the sight of him smirking again, and shake your head, the shock of the situation finally hitting you.

"I shouldn't be here, should I?" you suddenly panic, shoving the tea back in his direction, making for your bag on the floor. But as you crouch and grab it your hands feel like stone, not willing to move an inch. You don't want to leave, not at all, as much as some part of you is telling you to stop this and head back to campus, now. You stand back up quickly, feeling awkward as you smooth down the bottom of your oversized sweater, turning to him again.

"Is this wrong?" he asks, gesturing between you with the mug of tea.

"I- I don't know," you sigh.

"I made you tea because you looked cold, are you sure you don't want it?"

You stare longingly at it, his hand easily wrapping around the entire thing. With a hard swallow you push yourself to take a step, grabbing the tea from him and finally taking a sip, your chest instantly feeling warmer.

"Why did you let me follow you?" you ask, turning around and sitting yourself on the smooth top of his desk , crossing your legs. His legs cross too as he leans back against the shelf behind him, a longer piece of his black hair falling in front of his eyes.

"I've been hoping to get a chance to chat with you, ever since I read your first paper."

"So even though you could tell I hated your readings, even though I'm that type of student you seem to have such great distaste for, you still wanted to talk with me?" you ask.

"I kept hoping you'd come to office hours, but you never did," he sighs. "You might hate my class, but you're obviously passionate about literature. You'd be surprised how rare that is, amongst all my English students."

"You've only had a few like me, then?" you ask.

"I've never had any student like you."

Silence hangs in the air, and you sip at your tea to fill it, savoring the way your body is relaxing. You stare at him, trying to read it all. Why the hell would he say something like that to you? Alone in his house, no indication of another soul residing here, you feel oddly comfortable. It had never crossed your mind that you could possibly end up in a situation like this.

"You're determined to get at least a C, aren't you?" he asks.

"I have to," you reply. "I can't- I just have to."

"For your scholarship?"

"No- well, sort of, in a way," you sigh, thinking of your Dad. "It's a long story, but I have to."

"Let me give you some advice then. Just because you don't much care for an assignment, don't throw in the towel and do the bare minimum. Your other work is too good, it makes it obvious when you've barely spent any time on something."

You stop short, tea clasped tightly in your hands, your eyes wide.

"Do you write, any fiction or poetry?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Good, you have an immense talent for writing, you must nurture it."

It was the last thing you were expecting, and the words send shivers of warmth through your limbs, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

"God, do you have any idea how remarkable you are?" he asks, his head suddenly shaking, his arms crossing.

"What do you mean?" You try to keep your composure, but his last words feel like a metaphorical breaking of a boundary, and suddenly your cunt aches and your feet feel tingly. Were you really that easy to break? Liking praise this much was something you'd always felt shame about; your cheeks redden as your heart rate slowly picks up, and you are sure your flush is obvious, even in the faintly pink light of the room.

"You're just- you're remarkable, there's no other way to put it. Like I said, I've never had a student like you," he says.

"Then why torture me with such a bad grade?" you ask, taking another sip.

"I'm not torturing you, it was deserved," he replies. "You wrote that whole paper the night before it was due, didn't you?"

You turn your eyes away in lieu of responding, not wanting to admit that he was absolutely right.

"I know everyone says I'm a harsh grader, but what about next year? You'll have two semesters with either Haas or Park, and both of them are stricter than I am, both expect near perfection. I'm preparing you as best as I can for next year, so your whole degree doesn't blow up in your face at the final hurdle."

"You really care that much?" you fake pout, chuckling a bit and biting your lip.

"Yes, yes I do. You're too smart to not make it out of that University with a degree." His voice is genuine, not an ounce of sarcasm present. Something about how sure and even it is adds to the heat in your low guts, and you squirm slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

"Come here," you say, setting down your mug and holding out your hands in front of you.

"What?" he asks as he pushes off the bookshelf, uncrossing his arms as he starts walking. In only three steps he's just inches away, towering over you as you spread your legs slightly. You're hit with his smell, something musky and rich that you can't name, and all it does is add to the heat inside you, sweat beginning to form underneath your sweater.

"Will you read my stories and poems, if I show them to you?" you ask, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket, your eyes locked together.

"I won't hold back in my reactions," he says, sighing deeply to try and keep the growing firmness in his pants at bay. Being this close to you was not something he'd planned for, and his head spins as your soft eyes look up so longingly, his own guts doing somersaults at the precious sight.

"I wouldn't want you to," you say, smiling, unbuttoning his jacket and exposing his white button down, making work of the buttons there too, from top to bottom.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," he chides from above, but he doesn't move an inch, doesn't do a thing to prevent your movements. You notice quickly he isn't wearing an under shirt, met with the creaminess of his skin as you expose his chest, working slowly down to the lowest buttons. You pull his shirt free from where it was tucked in his pants, loosening his belt to help you, before pulling the sides of the shirt wide and finally revealing his naked torso.

Now you understood. He was a nightmare, but in all the ways you least expected. He was better than your dreams, hotter than you could imagine; the flat plane of his chest was broad, and his tummy was the perfect mixture of muscle and softness, a small dark line of hair snaking down from his belly button and into his pants. And his pants, when you finally look down, you see it; his bulge is straining against the fabric, long and hard and thick, and immediately you start salivating, running your tongue along your bottom lip to collect yourself.

"Good god," he groans from above, his pupils blown, losing the fight to not be affected by you. Your small, soft hands running over his torso feel heaven-sent, and in seconds he's rock hard, shamelessly staring down the low cut of your sweater, letting himself look at you the way he's been wanting to for months.

"This- this is what you want?" he asks, breathless, running a thumb down the side of your cheek, turning your head up further to meet his gaze head-on.

"You- you just kept saying such nice things, and it made me feel all weird right here." You grab his hand and pull it towards your crotch, the warmth and wetness immediately evident even with your tights in the way.

"Fuck," he groans, tipping his head back and sighing. Though he knew it was already risky bringing you here, lines were now being crossed that were objectively wrong. He tries to pull his hand away from your core, but he can't, and when he looks down at you again, your eyes are wide with want and need, conflict screws all of his thoughts into a tight knot.

But before he can stop himself, his open lips meet yours. The kiss is immediately deep, all the tension and heat you'd just created washing through you both. He starts applying some pressure with his hand, rubbing his fingers up and down against the warmth of your cunt, and you moan into his mouth, suddenly breaking the kiss when he hits your sensitive spot, your mouth falling open. With no support behind you, you grab onto his arms, pulling him closer as you move to kiss him again, his right hand wrapping around your back to hold you up.

His lips are soft and sweet in yours, and you can't help biting at the plumpness of his lower lip, making a quick breath escape his mouth before he dives in harder, the hand on your back moving up to your nape as he pulls your face impossibly closer. You reach your hands out to feel over the bareness of his torso again; his skin feels hot and smooth, his abdominal muscles clenching as he leans into you more and takes all the effort of steadying you both. Balanced on the edge of his desk you feel shaky, so you reach around his hips and pull them closer, forcing him to remove his hand as your cores meet in sudden ecstasy, the hardness of him feeling all too delicious against your soaked cunt.

Immediately you're grinding against him, savoring every bit of pleasure you can get, while his wide torso cages you in and his soft lips move to your cheek, then your neck, trailing down until he's biting at the soft skin above your collar bone. The choked moan that leaves you sounds almost like a cry of pain, but it was really just the shock, the unexpected pleasure you were getting from every little movement of his.

He pulls his mouth away, suddenly nervous he's taken a wrong step, gone too far. His hair falls in his face as he watches you shamelessly grind against him, your eyes still screwed shut in ecstasy, stopping at nothing to get all of the pleasure you can from it. It takes you a few moments to register the absence of his lips, and when you do you look up at him through hooded eyes, wondering why he pulled back.

"What do you want?" he asks, working hard to rip his eyes away from the sight of you grinding on him.

"Just wanna be good for you," you say breathlessly, swallowing a moan. "Wanna- wanna make you feel good."

"You are making me feel good, angel, I'm so fucking hard," he sighs, looking down again and starting to rock his hips slightly, in time with yours. The added pressure and friction send jolts of pleasure through you, and suddenly your head feels a bit fuzzy, your hands and feet tingling with delight. "You gotta tell me to stop, I can't- this, fuck, we shouldn't be..."

"Please don't stop," you cry, holding onto him for dear life, focused entirely on the feeling of him against you, his strong arms in your hands, his hot breath on your face, his hardness giving you more pleasure than you could ever dream of. "I'll rewrite my entire paper, I'll do anything, just please, don't stop."

"You don't have to promise me that right now," he says, holding you tight against him. "You're too good, let yourself have this."

With his permission, you let go completely, all thoughts leaving you as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, your spasming cunt sending shockwaves of pleasure up through your entire core. His lips are on yours again, and he kisses you deeply, savoring every taste he can find, all but devouring you as he keeps up with your pace, rocking his straining cock against you just how you need it. You feel fully enveloped by him, by his smell and his words, by the feelings of complete safety and desire that he's lighted within you. You never expected this conversation with him to go so well, to head in this direction. For the first time in your life a teacher saw what you hoped they would in your writing, and his admission of his admiration for you left you wanting every bit of praise and pleasure he could give.

Finally, you feel it building deep, a volcano about to explode, your core tightening and threatening to snap. The feeling is searingly hot and delicious, your legs starting to shake, his hands moving to hold onto your thighs as you desperately shake and hump against him, chasing your orgasm to completion. You rip your mouth from his to scream, all the glee and nerves of your evening coming to a head, your body going rigid as it rips through you, your climax so intense and long lasting that you can't quite believe it's real.

"Good girl, let yourself cum," he whispers in your ear, helping you through it. His cock is achingly hard in his pants, but the feeling of you coming in his arms takes all his attention, the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. It's hard to tell when it ends, your legs still so shaky, but eventually your rubbing ceases, and he stops his thrusting too, just holding you in place as you pant and center yourself, adrenaline and happiness coursing through you.

"You okay?" he asks.

"More than okay," you sigh, slumping into him, making you both laugh. It's light, airy, the sound an absolute joy to your ears. You look up, face flushed and cheeks high in a smile, and he leans down to kiss you, a soft and patient kiss that makes butterflies dance in your stomach.

"I didn't mean for that to escalate like that," he says, sighing.

"I did," you say, and it makes him laugh harder, his high cheeks and beautiful smile greeting you. You've never seen him look so sweet, so happy; your stomach suddenly clenches with a feeling of utter admiration, and it's so deep that tears spring in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of him, but you can't help the look on your face. His smile is gorgeous, and internally you're melting at just how perfect he is.

You stay locked together for a long time, the minutes passing by as you both breath deeply, more kisses planted on your forehead and cheeks that make you giggle and squirm. Eventually you come down, your legs finally not shaking, your body coming back to the temperature of the room. The cool air is making you sleepy, and you yawn as you pull away from him, gently moving him back so you can stand and stretch your legs, gathering yourself.

It's silent, slightly awkward, but nothing in you feels scared. Though your legs are back to freezing, you feel a warmth in your chest and stomach that won't leave, and when you look up to him, his face is soft and still and utterly lovely.

"I really didn't mean for that to happen," he says, clearing his throat and finally breaking the silence.

"It's okay, seriously, I- I wanted it to," you sigh, holding his gaze.

"I really think you're amazing, it's not just that you're beautiful, I- I want you to go places, I want all of your dreams to come true. With writing, and everything else too," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," you respond, nodding and smiling. "I know."

It's all you can think to say, when so much is running through your head. Now that your heart rate is more normal you can actually think straight, and though you don't feel scared, there is some level of uncertainty dancing in the back of your mind. Where would this lead? And what could possibly come of it? Your own hormones and emotions had led the way earlier, and now you weren't so sure it had been the best choice. But you also couldn't fault yourself for doing it, because you knew that if given the chance, you'd absolutely do it again, as many times as he'd be willing to. Class now might be a nightmare, your active imagination supported by this memory. But that didn't sound all bad, either, frankly. It might be fun to make eyes at him and watch him stutter, to see just how much you could affect him in front of all your peers.

"Are you wanting to head home now?" he asked.

"I probably should, I have a lot of homework to do. And I need to get some dinner."

Twenty minutes later, the delivery arrives, and you sit in his living room sipping at your favorite soup, a casual conversation about your other classes filling the air. It had always bugged you when people asked about school, but for some reason with him, you felt giddy to brag, excited to share every grade and project you could. You felt seen, felt actually supported. It struck you over and over how strange it was to be feeling this way with him, of all people.

"Rewrite that paper, you have a week," he says as you stand in his open door, the streets and lawn drenched from the rain, but the sky now clear.

"Rewrite the whole thing?"

"I expect it to be up to the standard of your other two papers."

With all of the other work you had, it should have been frustratingly hard to finish it. But there was something about thinking of his face as you worked, of his hands, of his chest and his abs and his cock....

You finished the paper in record time, turning it in only four days later. And the next day in class it was lying on your desk when you entered, bright red marks along the front again.

91%.

You looked up at him, and though it was subtle, there was no question there was a glint in his eye as he winked.

Hongjoong & Seonghwa

Yunho & Yeosang

San & Mingi

Wooyoung & Jongho

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"But y/n, it's not even a frat party," your best friend whined. "Yeah! We're too old for that anyways," your other friend chimed in.

You currently found yourself in a standoff. At first, you had situated yourself in your bed with your textbooks to have a quiet night in. Your friends, however, took it upon themselves to propose an alternative idea. One that you often rejected.

"Are you forgetting that we have midterms next week? I would like to start spring break stress-free."

Your entire life has been focused on going to college. If asked about your childhood, you would always recall how happy you were growing up. But you never overlooked the sacrifices your parents made for you. Going to college was never realistic or them, so they worked overtime I order to provide you with the opportunity to live a better life than they ever got a chance for. Their struggles were something you can never ignore, which made you want to work hard to make them proud.

And since getting to college, it was about doing well to be able to show them why their hard work was worth it. You also had a personal goal of being able to afford to repay them for everything.

To get to that point, that meant often saying no to social obligations so you could study. Your weekends often looked like you were crammed in the library. Or, if you needed human interaction, propping yourself at a coffee shop to mix in with the crowd.

Breaks were the opportunities to let loose and have a little bit of fun. Yet, your breaks often looked like doing work for internships. Now that senior year has arrived, you are also adding in time to scroll through LinkedIn and Indeed for potential job openings

"Y/n, I adore you, and what a little studious bookworm you are. However, it is senior year. We have less than 3 months to make stupid decisions before adult obligations. There is also the chance we might not be living even in the same state or country! Do you really want to live life only when we come to visit or you visit someone else?"

You never went to a frat party. You never had a random hookup. You always played things safe.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh as you gazed down at your lap where your textbook rested. She had a point. While you were very excited about being that true adult version of you, you weren't ready for the hard parts of it like no longer living with your best friends or really having little interaction.

"And I'll tell you what. We don't have to stay all night. If you get overwhelmed or are over it, we will come straight home and watch Love Is Blind."

You perked up at her compromise. When you looked up, hopeful eyes were staring back at you before you silently nodded. That was enough to send them into squeals and start to drag yourself out of bed.

What were you getting yourself into?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little did you know, across campus, a similar debate was going on.

"Guys, I really don't like house parties like that," Yunho huffed. "And how do you know if you've ever been?" Mingi challenged him.

Yunho couldn't help but narrow his eyes on his best friend. He had a point, but damn, did he hate it when he was right. Out of the two them, Mingi was the more social one. Before a party was finalized, Mingi was already receiving texts about the details so word could spread like wildfire.

On the other hand, Yunho often opted for quiet nights in. He would spend nights either gaming with Seonghwa or drinking at home with a few friends. What was the point in going to a house party when they already had beer in their apartment?

There was also a part that loved hearing Mingi's retelling of what went down. Yunho simply didn't like parties, the situations that could arise from consuming too much alcohol, and the morning recovery.

"You owe me!" "For what?!"' "I mean," Mingi began. "I am your best friend. I'm sure you owe me something!"

Yunho rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the smirk curling onto his lips. It amused him greatly the antics Mingi always tried getting into, and how he basically became a whimpering puppy for attention.

"What will you do for me if I go?" Yunho challenged. "I will literally never ask you to come out again if you absolutely hate it. Or I will do all the chores in the house for the next month."

That caught Yunho's attention instantly. He liked to consider himself a very clean man, never knowing who might step into their humble abode. However, Yunho still liked to maintain a welcoming household and seemed like he had things together. First impressions mattered the most to him. And it was no secret Mingi often dirtied up any clean space, no matter how recently Yunho finished cleaning.

"Wait? Are you being serious?"

With Mingi cleaning, that meant that Yunho could just spend time the way he wanted to - playing video games and chilling with his friends. Yunho definitely was a person who liked being around people, but he didn't like situations that could get messy quickly. Hence why there was a slight aversion to going to parties where things could go 0 to 100 too quickly.

At home, Yunho was in control. He was the mood maker who kept a warm, welcoming environment. That meant one that was clean and safe for everyone. An oasis from the chaos of university.

"I'm dead serious, Yunho." "Deal!"

Little to Yunho know just how overwhelming the atmosphere would be. Even though Yunho certainly liked making memories with his friends, he was almost intimidated. All around him were drinks being passed left and right, not even knowing what was in the drink but it made his noise scrunch up as all he could smell was cheap perfume and alcohol. It practically burned his nostrils.

"Relax, Yunho," Wooyoung laughed. "You are about to give away that you've never had pussy before."

Yunho's head snapped towards his younger friend, a look of shock on his face. "Do you ever not think with your dick?"

"Will you ever sleep with someone? Come on. You're in college. Make a bad decision." "I'm fine with sticking to this one," Yunho sighed.

It wasn't that Yunho didn't want to have sex. However, he knew just how special being intimate with someone is. What mattered to him was waiting for the person he felt like he could be that vulnerable with. Just finding a random person and doing it sounds disgusting. Not how he wanted his first time go.

Nobody has caught his attention yet.

"Oh ease up, Yunho. Woo just is looking out for you," Mingi laughed. "But if you do find someone, bedrooms are open upstairs.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Well, to be the bearer of good news," Jongho called out. "It seems like Yunho has a pair of eyes on him."

What was he talking about?

Slowly, Yunho looked over his shoulder whereas his friends seemed to wipe their heads around. Way to be subtle. There was this pattern that always occurred where girls seemed to have taken an interest in Yunho, but he never reciprocated. He was just content with the way things were in his life - no drama, no mess.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight behind him. There's no way.

Yunho has seen you around campus before. The two of you have never had a class together, seeing as your respective programs were in two different buildings. Yet, there were always ways you two crossed paths. You were heavily involved on campus or often in the library studying. Yunho did frequent the library, but if there was no immediate open spot available, he would leave. He always thought you were cute, but the opportunity never presented itself where he could make a move.

He didn't quite think that asking someone, a complete stranger, out on a date in the library when they were obviously busy was romantic.

To be honest, he never saw you as a party girl. You were often studying out of your mountain of textbooks or typing like your life depended on it on your laptop. He adored that side of you. When your hair was pulled back and your glasses framed your face, highlighting your big eyes.

Tonight, you opted for a different look. You ditched your sweats for a short black skirt that had a small slit on the right side. You wore a white shirt but that was mostly hidden underneath the leather jacket you wore. Your hair was downing loose curls. Your makeup also looked like it was light, but he was drawn to your cherry red lipstick.

I wonder if it also tastes like cherries.

Yet, tonight, you seemed like you had no agenda. Your eyes did glance in his direction, followed by whispers and giggles from your friends. To say his interest was peaked is an understatement.

You were someone who caught his attention. And his friends seemed to notice.

"Hey y/n," Mingi called out.

Yunho's head immediately turned towards Mingi who wore a smirk on his face. He wouldn't.

But it was too late. Mingi was already halfway across the room to greet you and your friends. And Yunho was hot on his trails.

"See you finally are breaking out of the library to join the rest of us," he commented.

You rolled your eyes before greeting him with a hug. Of course, Mingi knew you. He knew everyone. How did you two meet though? You weren't an ex-girlfriend or else you would have been over to the dorms. And you had a face that was impossible to forget. Maybe Mingi got tutoring from you?

"Don't hold your breath, Mingi. I was offered an out if I want to take it," you warned.

Your voice was just as angelic as Yunho imagined it. You often studied alone, unless you were shoved into a group project by your professors. Hearing how you speak made his heart flutter.

"Well maybe I can offer a reason to stay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. Mingi nodded over his shoulder which caused you to instinctively look over.

Everything else froze the moment your eyes met. It was like a scene from a romantic movie where the lights highlight the dream girl, music fades out. Nothing else matters at the moment besides you.

"Y/n, I want you to meet my best friend, Jeong Yunho. Yunho, be nice. This is y/n."

I was brought back to reality by Mingi gently patting me on the shoulder and giving me a slight shove. Luckily, I was quick on my feet to prevent myself from stumbling into this girl and making a fool out of myself. The wouldn't be a great first impression.

By your body language, Yunho could tell that you were out of your element. But so was he. Your eyes bounced around as you noticed your friends and his had left the two of you alone.

"Why don't we head out of here? Maybe go to the kitchen? Away from the crowds?"

Your eyes instantly lit up at his offered. The sight of you feeling relieved made Yunho felt proud, but also served as a motivating factor to ensure you always felt that content especially around him.

With a hand on your lower back, Yunho escorted you two out of the main part of the house. His eyes flickered all around to see where there were less people. However, people were playing drinking games in the kitchen. He glanced down at the cup in your hand to see you still had something to drink. The stairs, on the other hand, were vacant.

"Come on, let's go upstairs. I've been wanting to get to know you, y/n," he confessed.

Instantly, you felt your cheeks heat up. You nodded before following Yunho's lead. Your friend groups watched almost in astonishment at how quickly things progressed. Mingi was the proudest, as he played cupid after all.

As the two of you descended up the stairs, you could hear the bass of the music from below but could not quite make out the words. The loud conversations faded out to where you could just hear the footsteps of you and Yunho. You swore though you could feel your racing, and you were nervous Yunho could hear it too.

He flashed you a warm smile as he began trying the doorknob on the first door he saw.

"Occupied!" Someone shouted from within. The two of you felt yourself get hot in the face.

Quickly, he maneuvered the two of you to the bedroom across the hallway. Luckily, the door was slightly cracked and lights were off. An indicator that it was unoccupied. And to confirm, Yunho stepped in first by gently pushing the door. He let out a sigh of relief as there was no one.

"Perfect. Now I can actually get to know you."

He wanted to know me? The girl who is always studying?

He stepped out of the doorway, his back against the bedroom door to allow you inside. You thanked him with a soft smile before stepping into the room. You did notice he closed the door but also left it unlocked. It honestly made you feel a bit safer just by his gentle gaze and consideration.

Whenever you've seen Yunho walking around campus, you've always taken note of his soft aura. Maybe that's why it was so easy to lean into the potential friendship with him.

You found yourself walking into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your hands flattened out the skirt so it covered a bit more of your legs. Yunho joined you, keeping a bit of space but nothing too much. Just enough so you could speak one another but be respectful and mindful of your own personal space.

"I'm surprised to see you here tonight," Yunho commented, a smile still on his lips. "You just never seemed to be the party girl." "You know me already," you laughed. "I'm honestly not but my friends want to make lasting memories before graduation," you explained.

Yunho couldn't help but chuckle which caused you to raise an eyebrow. He quickly cleared his throat, a light hue coating his cheeks.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems that our friends are in the same mindset since that's why I got dragged out of the apartment tonight." "I guess it isn't so bad now that I'm here with you."

You swore that Yunho's cheeks got darker. You also noticed how his smile widened to the point his eyes became hidden. He was just too adorable.

"So mystery girl knows who I am," he chuckled again.

God, his laugh was so infectious. I could just sit hear and listen to it all day.

"And I'm surprised my campus crush knows even who I am." "Oh? I'm your campus crush?" He smirked.

Now it was your turn to blush a bit. Damn, caught red-handed.

"Well yeah. I've seen you all over with Mingi or when you are trying to study in the library. Guess you could say I've always been curious."

Yunho's ego soared. He didn't come here to get lucky, but he was. He felt as if he had one the lottery.

"There's something else I've been curious about," he admitted.

Your upper body had turned towards him. The moonlight shining from the window made your eyes sparkle. It was as if you had the whole universe in your eyes. Your head was tilted slightly, a habit Yunho was quickly learning about you and equally adored.

One hand remained at a respectful spot in the space between the two of you. Yet, his right hand reached across to cup your cheek. His thumb caressed your cheek affectionately as your eyes widened slightly. Yet, your body felt relaxed underneath his touch.

He never wanted to take things too far, but a little kiss never hurts, right?

"Is it okay if I kiss you, y/n?" He whispered.

Your name coming from his lips sent butterflies in your stomach. "Yes," you whispered back.

He offered another gentle smile before he leaned in to press his lips against yours. His lips felt soft and gentle as he didn't want to pressure you to kiss him back. But you would be a mad person if you didn't. You matched his tempo, allowing him to lead the kiss.

Tiny electric shocks were sent throughout your body. You couldn't help but allow your arms to wrap around his neck, which gave him the green light to move his hand off the bed to your knee. His warm hand caressed your exposed skin.

"I like the feeling of your hands on me," you murmured against his lips.

Fuck, Yunho, you're in trouble. Your statement made his brain all fuzzy. Yet, he didn't want to get too ahead of himself. He was almost positive you meant innocence in your statement.

His hand moved from your knee to your hip where he lifted you with ease. You gasped softly, pulling back from the kiss. You never expected him to be so strong! Your mouth was slightly open as you were positioned on his lap.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Yunho said. "Did I move too fast?"

You turned towards him and shock your head. Your heartbeat was felt throughout your whole body. If it was anyone else, you might have gone running out the door by how overwhelmingly intense the moment felt. With Yunho? All you wanted was to stay.

"No, this is perfect," you confessed. Your one hand stayed wrapped around his neck, your fingers running through your hair. "Is this okay? I mean, I've never done anything like this before. I don't just kiss cute boys who I barely now."

Yunho couldn't help but smile softly at your sentiment. You were too sweet. "Well, maybe we can become more than strangers?" His hand caressed your side affectionately, easing any nerves left in your body.

"I'd like that," you whispered.

You were about to go in to kiss Yunho again when the bedroom door busted open. You gasped as Yunho gently moved you off, shielding your body. The people who busted in just gasped before quickly closing the door behind them, muttering apologizes.

Way to kill the mood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was three weeks ago. Yunho and you kept in good contact, especially now that Mingi prided himself in bringing two of his favorite people together. Even though you and Yunho were as far from being a couple as anything else. If anything, you two were beginning to deepen your friendship.

Yunho now had a reliable person to study, with who would keep him accountable for actually getting work done. And you had someone who made life fell less lonely.

And it was a bonus that each study session ended with a makeout session at your apartment. It was almost a ritual between the two of you. At the end of the night, Yunho would make sure you had eaten before walking him. You would then offer to come in for some water or coffee, depending on what else he had going on in the evening. Which were ultimately excuses to go to your bedroom.

Never before had you felt so safe with someone. Yunho looked after you, which honestly blew you away considering how new the friendship was. Yet, for Yunho, taking care of you was a duty. Even if you weren't official, he always wanted to make sure you knew someone was looking out for you.

That was as evident as ever when you two were behind closed doors. Light kisses led to light touches. His hands often wondered to your lower back, maybe underneath your shirt to cup your bra-covered breasts. Your hands would fall on his chest, sometimes down his abs towards where his belt was. Kisses on your lips led to neck kisses then to hickies which your roommates teased you relentlessly about.

Nothing more though. You had told Yunho that you were always anxious when it came to sex. You didn't want to jeopardize everything you worked for. And Yunho always respected that, especially since he was waiting for the right person. He didn't want to regret something so meaningful. And you respected that too.

Yet, you couldn't ignore your own urges anymore. There was something powerful between the two of you. You just weren't sure how to tell Yunho how you were feeling without scaring him off.

The past three weeks have been the time of your life. He made you feel warm and fuzzy, as if you were the main character in a Nicholas Spark's novel. And Yunho felt like he was on Cloud 9 with you. He never wanted to lose that feeling.

Buzz buzz

You were currently in the kitchen of your college apartment, slicing up an apple and peanut butter. A favorite study time snack of yours. Your eyes warned over to see Yunho's name flash on your phone which instantly brought a smile on your face.

"Oh! Y/n must be talking to Yunho," your roommate teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile growing on your lips. Yeah, you were down bad for him.

"Hey pretty girl, what are you up to today?" "Not studying! I got everything done." "So you have time for me?"

Your smile grew wider at his text. You literally felt your heart flutter.

"Maybe.. is it worth it though?" "Oh darling, don't you worry. I'm going to make sure you feel on top of the world." "Where are we going?" "My place? 7pm?"

You glanced at the time at the top left corner of your phone. 5:41pm. Not much time to get ready.

"Anything I should bring over?" "Just yourself. It is all I need."

Lord have mercy.

Your snack was long forgotten as you ran up the stairs. The excitement about seeing Yunho, being alone with him drove you in ways academic achievement and goals accomplished never could.

You wear wearing a loose sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. Nothing too suggestive but also easy to remove. You never wanted to go in assuming any situation, but you couldn't help but be hopeful. Your roommates also noticed your change of perspective since Yunho came into your life. They liked seeing this side of you - the side where you were allowing yourself to enjoy life rather than focus on work and outcomes.

"Make sure you say hi to Yunho for us," your one roommate teased as you rushed to grab your wallet and keys. "Should we expect you tonight or tomorrow afternoon?"

Your cheeks were a bit red, not from embarrassment. There was not one ounce that was ashamed to be so scandalous with Yunho. Maybe it was because it was your little secret, the part of your that you were allowing to flourish for the first time, that was being exposed. While you weren't sure if you and Yunho would be anything more than friends, you were safe to say you were no longer strangers.

"I'll just text you guys when I'm heading home," you laughed, trying to ease your own nerves. Yet, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach which mad you jittery.

"Oh, no need. We have your location, y/n." "Creeps," you huffed. "Or just care about your well-being! But we also know Yunho will take care of that part."

I need to get out of here. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was 6:47pm. Yunho was just a 5 minute walk away from your apartment, so you were in no rush but any excuse to get to Yunho quickly.

"Hey, I'm heading over now :)" you texted him. "Can't wait to be with you."

You waved goodbye to your roommates who sounded off in encouraging cheers. You shook your head playfully before walking out the door to Yunho's apartment. With each step, your heartbeat is faster and louder. He had you wrapped around his finger and you didn't even know how to tell him.

"Hi pretty girl," Yunho said, answering the door. His height always left you breathless. You knew you were down bad when his height is something you adore. He was dressed in a grey sweatshirt with a yellow smiley face in the middle and black sweatpants.

Gently, he stepped out of the way to allow you to enter. You smiled appreciatively before walking in and slipped off your shoes. Mingi was in the kitchen, wiping down the countertop after dinner assumedly.

"Hey y/n. I'm about to head out!" He exchanged a look with Yunho, but you were too hyper-focused on Yunho's hand on your lower back. You could basically turn into Jell-o. "I'll see you around," he snickered.

"Bye Mingi," Yunho muttered. His demeanor softened when he turned towards you though, offering that gentle smile that makes you want to do anything he says. "Wanna go up to my room?"

You nodded before taking the lead. You've been all too familiar with the staircase that led up to Yunho's bedroom. Each time you walked in front of him, Yunho struggled. He surely had the best view in the world but wanted to do his absolute best to remain respectful.

Once you arrived in his room, you were a bit taken back. This wasn't the usual setup. You were much accustomed to the floor lamp being on, his laptop ready for a movie.

Tonight, the no lights were on. Instead, he had lit a few candles that were new additions to the top of his dresser. It created a glow in the room that was warm and welcoming. It also had a smell of vanilla and cashmere, two of your favorite scents. He was a good listener. Soft, sensual music was playing in the background from the speaker by his desk.

You stepped into the room but didn't go to the bed this time. You turned towards him, keeping a bit of distance but yearning to be close to him.

"What's all this for, Yunho?"

He loved the way his name sounded from your lips. It sent shivers down his spine. He smiled gently before taking a step closer, closing the door behind him. Once again, he didn't lock it right away. Yunho was the exception in a world of boys where he was a gentleman. He always offered you an out, always a way to leave if you so choose. Yunho never placed expectations on you. He followed your lead.

"Y/n," he began. One of his hands gently reached out for yours, fingers gently wrapping around your own but not quite holding it just yet. It was endearing. "You mean so much to me. I mean, I've always been mesmerized by you, but I never knew someone could have such a large impact until you came into my life. I've never wanted to open up to someone the way I open up to you."

Your eyes widened slightly, stepping even a bit closer to Yunho. Your mind was jumping to conclusions but you did everything to stay calm.

"There is just something special between us, angel," he whispered. His hand fully slipped into yours as the other gently moved to hold your hip, keeping you close. His touch was gentle yet firm, almost as if he was begging you to say but also allowing you to move if you desired. "You complete me in ways I never imagined. Both emotionally and mentally, and our physical connection is something I'd like to explore more."

Oh my god.

"I understand if maybe that's something you never wanted with me but-" "But just kiss me. Please."

His eyes now widened this time. You were biting your lip gently as you gazed up at him with your big doe eyes.

Come on, Yunho. Get it together.

No longer hesitating, he leaned in fully to press his lips against yours. His hand squeezed your hip affectionately. Unlike the other times he's kissed you, this was more passion. He had a certain level of assertiveness that made you melt. Your hands moved from holding his to resting on his chest and the other on his arm.

With ease, Yunho picked you up which caused you squeal. He pulled back from the kiss to look up at you. You noticed this time his gaze was a bit more seductive which made you feel all tingly.

"Oh darling, I'll get you squealing for another reason soon enough," he promised you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You knew he'd never let you fall, so your action was more to lure him in closer. His hands moved to hold your ass, giving a playful squeeze which indeed sent your squealing again. Even though the sensations were newer to you, it felt so good when it was Yunho touching you.

Gently, Yunho tossed you on his bed. Your sweatshirt moved a bit to expose your midriff. Your hair was sprawled out on his comforter. And with the glow from the candles, Yunho swore you looked angelic.

"You can say no at anytime, darling," he promised you. His voice was in a soft tone but firm. This was serious for him which made your heart swell.

"I trust you. This is new for me too, but I want to experience it with you."

At first, he remained standing at the foot of his bed. Just enough so he could slip his own sweatshirt over his head. You couldn't help but stare at his exposed chest. He was built so beautifully.

Yunho noticed which caused him to smirk. Not wanting to be apart from you any longer, his hands gently then moved to your exposed skin. "What do you crave first, darling? I want to make sure you're all wet for me."

His words caused your cheeks to warm up tremendously. Your brain was all fuzzy just coming to realize this was actually happening. You were about to have sex with Yunho, your campus crush. This felt just too good yet nothing extraordinary has happened yet.

"Could you eat me out? I've always wanted to know what it feels like," you confessed. "Your wish is my command, princess."

His hands moved from your hips to the waistband of your leggings. He glanced up at you once more to make sure you were comfortable and okay with proceeding. You couldn't help but giggle before running your hand through his hair comfortingly, giving him the nod he needed.

"So gorgeous, y/n, baby," he murmured. His lips kissed the exposed skin of your tummy before both of his hands began to move your legging dow your legs. "You look amazing in these leggings, but I'm so honored to be the one to take them off of you." His eyes then noticed the pink lace panties that you were wearing underneath. A tiny bow was in the front which made his mouth water.

You shivered as his hands gently began to tug off your panties. It was a bit chilly in the room for which Yunho smiled apologetically.

"I'll warm you up in no time, darling." "I have no doubt, baby. I know you always look out for me." "Always," Yunho vowed.

With your leggings and panties on the floor, Yunho crotched in front of you. His hands rested on your knees gently, thumbs caressing the outer part. He was a bit surprised how you opened them almost automatically for him, but he was overjoyed to know you wanted this just as much as him.

His cock twitched at the sight of how wet you already were, a slight glisten already noticeable. "My baby girl needs me, hmm?"

"I like when you speak to me like that," you confessed, letting out a shaky breath.

Yunho moved your one leg over his shoulder as the other rested on your thigh. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable. "What? You like knowing that I want you all to myself? That I want to be selfish?"

You were propped up on your elbows, gazing down at him. Your teeth were sunk into your lower lip in anticipation. All you could bring yourself was to nod in confirmation.

"Well, y/n, sweet girl. You are mine. You've been mine since the party, so don't doubt it again."

His tongue then licked a long strip along your pussy up to your clit. You let out a loud gasp, head tilting back. His hot breath hit your pussy causing you to shiver and spread your legs a bit wider, offering yourself completely to him. He hummed in satisfaction before letting the tip of his tongue circle your clit.

Your back arched slightly off his comforter. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself immerse fully into the pleasure.

He loved the taste of you. So sweet. His tongue ventured up and down your pussy before sticking into your tight hole. You let out a soft moan. It was music to his ears, knowing that he was capable of making you feel so good.

His cock was hardening by the sounds you were making. Twitching and began for attention. Soon though, he would get the relief he's always fantasized about.

You were his main priority though. He wanted this to be just as special, as meaningful for you as it was for him.

He pulled back which made your head snap down. Yunho couldn't help the small pout that formed on your lips. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'm not going anywhere." His lips began to press kisses into your thighs as his one hand left your knee to gently trace along your pussy.

"Is it okay if I finger you, angel? Just want to make sure you're stretched out for me. Don't want to hurt you."

His speech was a bit slurred, almost as if he was drunk off the taste of you.

"Please. I want to feel all of you, want to feel of this for the first time with you."

Yunho leaned down to kiss your thighs. He moved his kisses towards your clit. He could imagine the feeling might be a bit uncomfortable for you at first, so he wanted to help ease you a bit.

When his lips met your clit, he kissed it delicately before wrapping his lips around it. He began sucking on it which had you moaning sweetly. He couldn't help but smile before sliding one finger into you. His eyes looked up at you to see your mouth slightly open. Yet, your body remained relaxed on his bed.

He moved his finger in and out of your pussy slowly. He let out a groan at the feeling of how warm, how wet you were. You just felt so inviting it sent him into a frenzy. He craved more that he was struggling to hold himself back but he knew all good things come with time. His cock was straining against his pants painfully.

"I'm going to add another, sweetheart, okay?" He murmured against you. The vibration of his voice against your pussy caused you to whimper out in euphoria as you still nodded your head.

"Can I hold your hand, baby?" you begged softly.

Instantly, his free hand left your thigh to rest against the comforter for you to hold. He didn't need to be told twice. Whether it was for reassurance or to feel close to him, he would do anything for you.

Slowly, he slipped another finger into you. This time, at the feeling of how full you were, your body tensed a bit. Yet, Yunho kept his fingers still inside of you. He didn't want to rush in as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling your fingers slip into his hand, he squeezed your hand reassuringly. And this time, you squeezed back. "Keep going. Please."

His fingers moved slowly. He couldn't help but stifle the moan from his lips as he wanted to suck on your clit a bit harder, to make sure you were still feeling good. When you started moaning again, he began to curl his fingers gently into your g-spot. That made you moan louder than before, an encouragement for Yunho to proceed.

He then began to spread his two fingers apart, stretching you out properly. Your eyes widened, your breathing becoming shaky and shallow.

"Speak to me, baby girl. How does this feel?" "S-so good, baby." "Tell me what you need." "You. Please." "How do you want me? You've already got me. Right here, angel." "I want you to fuck me."

His fingers stilled inside of you as he pulled back from your clit. He looked up at you as he knew there was no going back. He knew he wanted to continue, but he just wanted to make sure you weren't too caught up in the moment. He didn't want you regret such a vulnerable moment with him.

"Are you positive?" He asked in a gentle voice. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Slowly, his fingers slipped out of your pussy. You whimpered at the lose of contact but quickly moaned when you saw his fingers enter his mouth. He sucked on them gently, humming against his digits. You've never witnessed something so attractive before. Your cheeks were flushed at the sight too.

"So delicious, angel. Thank you for letting me have a taste."

Now standing fully at the end of his bed, his hands moved to undo his belt and unzip his pants. Your eyes widened when you saw the tent in his pants. You couldn't believe he got so turned on by tasting and touching you.

Seeing the effect you had over him made you feel powerful.

Noticing you were staring, he winked at you. "You are the only one with this effect over me. Only one I ever want." His belt clinked against the floor as his pants soon joined, exposing his grey boxers. He was so hot. Does he even know that? You were going to move up to offer to jerk him off or suck him but he stopped you before your upper body could even leave his bed.

Did you do something wrong? You frowned a bit as your eyes quickly landed on his. Was he regretting going this far with you?

"Tonight is all about you, sweetheart." "But I want to make this special for you too," you frowned. "You just being here is enough to make this special. I promise."

You were a bit hesitant, wanting to be insistent on making him feel good. But with the look in his eyes the lustful gaze, you knew it was not a topic up for debate. You settled back onto his comforter as he moved to grab a condom from his bedside table.

He was a man prepared for any scenario. Whether it be one of his friends needing a condom or when a moment like this finally presented itself.

His boxers soon joined the floor. His cock instantly slapped against his abs. You noticed the veins running around the sides and the angry red tip, begging for attention. You made a mental note that you just had to suck Jeong Yunho off.

He grabbed the gold wrapper to tear it open. His right hand grabbed the base of his cock to hold it still as his left hand skillfully slipped the latex on. It just made his cock glisten, make it more appealing.

Finally, Yunho joined you on the bed. His knees rested in between your legs to keep you spread for him. His one hand rested by your head as the other cupped your cheek. You felt his forehead press against yours but not once did he look away from you.

"I mean it when I say we can stop at any point, angel. Just say the word." "Yunho, you're too sweet to me but I need you."

You needed him. God, his eyes nearly rolled at the words you spoke.

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment. Even the room felt hot and heavy, he wanted to remind you just how important you were to him. You kissed him back for a moment until you felt his tip against your pussy. He kept his gaze on you, wanting to make sure you were okay with what happened.

"You ready?" "Yeah," you breathed out.

As slow as ever, Yunho pushed his tip into you. You bit you lip as you kept your eyes trained on him. It felt familiar, just like when his fingers entered you. You nodded slowly before he began to push more of himself into your pussy. His head nearly rolling back at the feeling of how warm and tight you were around him. "Fuck," he breathed out.

The sound of you letting out another whimper caused him to snap back to reality. He frowned when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

"Oh angel," he whispered. He didn't dare move another inch. This wasn't about his pleasure, this was about you. "What's wrong?" "It's just a lot," you confessed. Salty tears began to leave your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, no," you begged. "I just need a moment."

Yunho nodded understandingly. He began to press soft kisses along your cheeks, your nose - anything to distract you from the pressure and temporary pain. He wanted to kiss you fully but he noticed you were breathing in deeply, trying to collect yourself and he didn't want to be inconsiderate.

"Take your time," he whispered. His hand moved to wipe your tears. "I go when you say go. I stop when you say stop." You took in another deep breath, really being able to feel how deep he was as your puss instinctively gripped his cock. He bit his lip to not moan, not wanting to do something that pressured you to say go.

However, in the few seconds of regulating your breathing, the pain began to feel like pleasure. It felt good. It was an odd feeling for sure, but one you wanted to continue with.

"Yunho?" you called out gently.

He pulled back so he could look into your eyes. His lips were curled up into that signature soft smile.

"Keep going. Please."

His eyes were trained on yours, almost as if he was looking for any hesitation. Yet, when he didn't see any, he nodded his head gently.

Before continuing to slip himself into you, he offered his hand for you to hold again. He really was a gentleman. Your fingers instantly slipped into his and you gave him a reassuring squeeze. That's all Yunho needed to continue slipping into your pussy.

Your breathing hitched again, but you remembered to breathe through it. And while it was a bit uncomfortable, it wasn't as bad as when you two started. You moaned when he eventually filled you completely.

"You okay, darling?"

He kept still but you could feel all of him inside of you. You felt so close, so vulnerable with him. It was overwhelming in the best sense.

"Never been better," you breathed out.

Satisfied, he began to retreat his hips before thrusting into you. Your head rolled back against his pillows and he rolled his head back at the feeling. "God damn," he breathed out. "You feel so good, angel. All for me."

His thrusts were slow at first, at an even pace. He was treating you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world, something that needed to be fiercely looked after. And while you might have enjoyed the sentiment, you just needed him.

"Baby, go faster, please." "Fuck, are you sure? If you say yes, I might not be able to hold myself back anymore." "Let loose, baby boy." That's all he needed to hear. His hand planted firmly on the space by your head, his other hand still holding yours. However, his thrusts became quicker, became deeper. It was as if something primal took over him.

Your moans were louder as you felt all of him entirely with each threat. He was so big, so thick. He filled you up just so heavenly, in ways you couldn't describe besides perfection.

"That's it," you whined out. "Right there, baby." "God, I could die a happy man this way."

You couldn't help but giggle as you moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder. Your fingernails dug slightly into his skin which seemed to send him pounding deeper into you.

The sound of wet skin slapping made him nearly delirious. He never imagined this would be happening especially not with you. Yunho truly won the jackpot. He watched as your eyes rolled back, your cheeks a light pink color. Your lips were slightly parted as you moaned without any control.

"You're so gorgeous, y/n."

Your walls began to tighten around him, a fire-like feeling taking over your stomach. His jaw was clenched, almost as if he was concentrating. You were a bit curious but began to notice the veins protruding out of his forearms from how hard he was thrusting.

You began to put the dots together.

"Are you close, baby?" "So fucking close," he huffed out. "Are you?"

His eyes were practically glued on you. All to make sure you felt on top of the world. He loved knowing that you two were sharing this experience together. The grip you had on his shoulder further encouraged him to give you everything he had.

No room to hesitate or overthink. "Yeah," you whimpered.

Sweat was beginning to coat his skin. You early drooled at the sight of how delicious he looked. How did you get so lucky?

"Let go, y/n, baby. I'm right there with you."

With one particularly hard thrust, you lost it. You felt like you were being sent into another dimension but the intensity of your orgasm. Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling as you truly believed you saw stars. Your legs shook slightly as Yunho groaned loudly, spurting his hot cum into the condom.

The heavy breathing from the two of you filled the room. The world outside of his bedroom seemed so far away as you felt so consumed by Jeong Yunho. You wouldn't want it any other way.

His cock started to soften inside of you but you two couldn’t bring yourselves to move. Your arms moved to wrap around him softly as he laid gently on you, keeping you close.

Now laying on your bed, naked and hot you were only adding the fuel to the fire, devouring you like hellfire. Whimpering at the twisted nipples between your fingers. Moaning at the toy stretching your needy walls. All of it while listening to audio made especially for needy, lonely women like you.

It was not enough.

You were doomed. There was no way you could've put out the destructive flames with your own efforts. Your hands, fingers or toys wouldn't be of any help. You needed another kind of touch, of someone else's hands on you. Another skin rubbing against yours. The last thing you needed today was to go to sleep unsatisfied, if you'd even be able to fall asleep.

As if your condition was not enough, your fuck buddy had not picked up any of your calls. That was the end of your deal, you were definitely dropping him off…but you still needed him for that last fuck. The desperation made you pathetic. All reasons were now valid to beg for someone who wasn't even picking up his phone.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

You left your needy breasts to reach for your phone. Audio went silent. It was your time to tease. 

The camera captured your spread legs and your hand, shamelessly going all down between them. Your middle finger visibly pushed on to your sensitive clit. The flash reflected from your already wet finger. The shot was perfect. It showed a lot but not everything. An ideal tease. 

You will teach him a lesson. He would be running to you in a minute. 

With a dizzy mind, barely able to focus with the vibrating pink toy inside you, you clicked on the contact list, looking for your "friend" named San. Your vision was blurry and hands shaky but still you managed to click send.

Now all you had to do was wait.

As you were able to resume the hungry massage of your breasts, a vision of the screen flashed in your mind. Something was not right. You definitely saw that gray cloud on the left. Why was the last text of the conversation a message sent to you? Did San reply and you missed it? No, you would’ve  heard the notification. Then where was all the spam you just sent to San?

In total panic, you quickly raised up and sat on your heels. The toy bluntly sticking out of your soaked hole, but you felt no satisfaction. Grabbing the phone again, you went through it with shaky hands. 

Your eyes grew as you saw the wrong name on the upper bar of the conversation, air catching in your throat. 

"No..." You stared at your lewd picture, the intimate detail that you just shared with a man named Park Seonghwa as well as the little writing under it.

Delivered.

The vibrating object and its buzzing began to annoy you, only increasing stress at this point. You slid it out of you and aggressively threw it on the ground, falling beside other toys that failed to satisfy you. Unconsciously, you grabbed the sheets and pulled them close, as if to cover your breasts and crotch like you’ve just been caught. You felt as if hundreds of pairs of eyes were now watching you. 

Why didn't you check? Why were you so stupid?

You looked at the bright screen, in hope it was all a mirage. Blinking a couple of times, everything was the same. Suddenly, a small possible solution showed up in your head.

Delivered?

"Wait, doesn't that mean…" You frowned and a spark of hope glowed.

Seonghwa hadn't seen it yet. He didn't open it, therefore you could still save your dignity. You knew him a little and he seemed like a good man. Maybe he would be reliable.

You had to try – the phone landed in your hands again. 

You took three deep, encouraging breaths and slid the green button. The rhythmic, somewhat loud signal almost drove you mad, which resulted in you not giving Seonghwa any chance to speak when he finally answered the phone.

"Please, listen to me." You begged. "I sent you a message by accident. By PURE ACCIDENT.” You scrambled out, continuing with a slight breath in. “I looked for the letter S, thought I chose the right contact and went with it. I am so sorry, it won't happen again. But for the love of God, DON’T open it. Please, do not open it. If you have any respect for me and care about me, please Seonghwa, delete it right away and forget. It'd be the best for both of us."

You tried to slow your heart rate,  breathing as quietly as you could manage. The silence on the other side wasn't long, but for you it seemed like ages.

The voice on the other side of the phone was deep, almost as dark as the view behind your window. 

"Too late." 

These two words echoed in your head as your heart sank. It fell at the bottom of your stomach. You felt nauseous. You definitely were in a heart attack threatening condition. 

Your life was ruined. He wasn't even your close friend. Seonghwa was no one else but your brother's best friend. He was hot but always out of your reach. You basically had his number only for simple communication, usually when he wanted to inform you that your brother got in trouble or when you couldn't find him. You two weren't super close. You just knew each other, flirted here and there. But that was all. And now he probably thought of you as some slut, sending nudes everywhere she can.

"S-seonghwa." You stuttered out with a shaky chin and heart, pounding in your heart. "Don't think bad of me, please. I'm not…like that."

"I don't." You could hear him smiling but his tone seemed  genuine. "It was an accident. I curse my habit of replying fast to messages. Don't worry your secret's safe with me."

It would've sounded heartwarming and assuring if not for the tone he put on to say the last sentence. As if he wanted to let you know that no one would know about the incident but he definitely wouldn't forget what he saw.

Or maybe you were overreacting. Probably were. Well, you were really close to being deceased, so you have every right to magnify the meaning of his words.

"Thank you." You replied, sighing heavily. 

What a nice and understanding man he was. Seonghwa had proven many times that he was a really good guy with high morals and class.

"I'm sorry." You added, and you truly meant that. You put him in a very uncomfortable situation.

"It’s ok. I'm trying to figure something out though." 

Your heart skipped a beat. Why didn't he hang up? Further conversation was only making your face burn alive with embarrassment. You couldn't even imagine what would happen if you two met again.

"Figure out what?" You gulped, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You see, I'm not in the best situation here." He scoffed in nothing but pure frustration, "Outside this bathroom I'm currently hiding in, there are thirty something people partying. They’re not drunk or high enough to not notice certain issues. How am I supposed to go out to them with a painful bulge in my pants and walk around them with a throbbing cock like nothing's wrong?" 

You felt these words like a sudden shower of hot water. The embarrassment slowly faded, giving its place back to the feeling that had been torturing you all day. Why was he saying that? Pressuring even harder on the gas of your neediness? 

"Who's gonna take the responsibility for my hardening cock now, Alani? When there's no one to blame? Maybe you know the answer?" He taunted, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Damn that imagination of yours, showing his perfect frames sitting at the edge of the bathtub, manspreading his long legs due to his growing problem. You could hear how deep his breaths were, seeing how he stroked himself. His attractive face, trying hard to focus. The muted sounds on the other side of the phone didn't help. He was suffering, and now so were you. 

You let go of the sheets, sitting there all naked again. The dripping between your lips made you spread your legs without thinking.

"How fast can you get here?" You finally dropped the question, almost whimpering it out.

"What about the man that this pic was meant for?" He laughed with trouble.

"He's no one."

"Fifteen minutes." The amusing tone he kept attempting to dress his state with was entirely gone. The depth of his voice sent chills down your spine. You now heard a different Seonghwa than the one you knew before.

"You have ten. The door is open." You blurted out and hit the red button on the screen. The phone was thrown aside as you clasped your mouth shut.

No matter how unbelievable it sounded, it was happening – Park fucking Seonghwa was coming over to fuck you.

You heard the quiet click of a door opening and closing downstairs. The hair on your arms surged upright from both excitement and nervousness. The even sound of heavy boots climbing the stairs had you gripping the sheets, almost breaking your nude press-on nails.

Led by the dim lights on this floor, Seonghwa emerged from the darkness and stood in the frame like a predator that just traced his prey but wanted to take some extra minutes to watch its last moments of peace.

You spent all ten minutes looking for the right position to greet him, finally deciding on the classic. You were just sitting on the edge of the bed that faced the entrance to your room and now him. With your legs crossed, you hid the main attraction. A piece of sheet, held by your arm, only covered your nipples while the outlines of your breast were displayed for his dark eyes. He saw a lot, but not everything. You could tell he liked the view. As you did yours.

The leather pants on his legs enhanced his slim but firm thighs. Seonghwa put his hands on the top of the door frame, causing the black jacket to raise and expose his tiny waist and broad shoulders. 

You tried your best not to look at his crotch after what he told you through the phone. There were still some manners left in you, even though the thought alone was enough to make you swallow loudly. 

Both of you took your time to look each other up and down, calculating every word and move. Every second, you were closer to losing control over your body as you already began squeezing your thighs together while slowly, barely noticeable, rocking your hips on the bed.

However, nothing seemed to escape his sly eye.

"I could smell you the moment I entered the house." 

The speed of how your breathing increased was embarrassing, but his choice of words answered all your deepest fantasies. As if he knew you were weak for the wild, male instincts taking the wheel.

"Oh?"

Pathetically, that was all you could afford.

He nodded, his smirk deepened, showing off his perfect white teeth and prominent canines. Seonghwa was absolutely amused by you.

His dark onyx like eyes slowly slid down from your burning face. Their attention teased your exposed neck and shoulders. Lazily grazed the covered breast, and then they stopped the journey. They now glowed with anticipation at the sight of your interlocked legs.

"Aww, don't worry, Alani." He gave you the fakest pout just to turn it into the most devilish smile you've ever seen, "Your savior’s here."

The air in your lungs stung like needles. Unconsciously, you held your breath from the rollercoaster of emotions going through you now. This Seonghwa had nothing to do with the Seonghwa you knew. He'd probably just played the good guy in front of your brother. But now you were alone, and the truth came out. You enjoyed every second of it with a painful pulsating between your legs as a confirmation.

His jacket landed on the floor, his belt came undone as he slowly approached you. Seonghwa was either lazily preparing for the act or he was just letting you feast on the view.

And you watched him closely. No detail of this perfect man missed your eyes. The sunkissed skin on his face, arms and neck ideally suited his raven, wavy hair. In a contrast of it all, the whiteness of his T-shirt was blinding. Seonghwa always was good looking for you, but now, in this new form, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Are you gonna make a sound?" He asked you when his frame stood right in front of you, your knees touching, "Or do you want me to make you?"

You gulped at the threat. 

"Sorry, I would never have thought this night would end like this."

"Like this? You mean me in your room?" He snickered.

"Yes."

"Well, I have, like I have every day since we met."

You blinked fast at this unexpected confession.

"What do you mean?"

Seonghwa's melodic chuckle would've been cute, if not for the situation you were in with him. He leaned over to have your face as close to his as possible.

"You see I don't fuck sisters of my friends. But that…" he looked you up and down, deeply inhaling, before eyes went back to yours. The sheet you held to cover yourself disappeared due to his will, "...that's not something I could ever say no to."

His hand appeared to grab your chin, making you look right into the bold eyes of his where you could read all his intentions.

"Did the baby walk horny all day?"

You nodded.

"And the toys were not enough to help?" He spoke to you like you were a helpless lost animal. However, the look in his eyes was sinister with all the meaning of this word.

It was turning you on terribly.

"Yes." You whine out, puppy dog eyes and all, responding to his play.

"No one wanted to come and help you?"

You were close to losing it. The scent of his cologne worked like magic potion. The desperation for him to finally touch you, devour you, was making you act like a brainwashed freak.

Enough was enough.

"Yes, Park. That's why you better fuck me 'til I’m broken. Till I’m all messy. Till I hate you."

He smiled as a proud owner.

"My pretty little slut."

Your lips suddenly interlocked with his, given in to the sweetest abuse. He was aggressively kissing you, while dangerous groans left his chords. You weren't different. The need of him grew in appalling speed, making you stand up and give all into the kiss. 

The bare body of yours immediately got caged in his embrace. His hand rested on the back of your head to hold your lips in place, all for him to taste. 

Your self-control didn't allow you to keep your hands still. Quickly, they began stripping him off his shirt and next taking care of his zipper. You wanted to suck him off, you needed to make him curse with his cock deep in your throat. 

Making your way down with kisses on his hot skin, your knees touched the floor. Seonghwa cupped under your face, cheeks lightly squeezed, looking into your eyes as you were pulling his pants down, stroking him through the material of his underwear. 

"Are you letting me fuck your sweet mouth?" He asked, playing with your hair.

  You licked your lips while smirking.

At the silent response, he grabbed your locks in the ponytail. It wasn't visible, but Seonghwa trembled. You could feel it under your touch, even the tiniest shiver. It worked on you like drugs.

You eliminated the obstacle of his underwear and let his rock hard cock free. The pain of lack of release was visible as his skin was red from all the blood running. The tip, slightly tinted with purple, looked delicious. The strings of thick precum, reminiscent of a spider web, spread from the bottom to his balls, making you drool.

The man inhaled sharply as he felt the warmth and softness of your mouth. Seonghwa watched you in awe when you were collecting the pre-juices, simultaneously moaning at its sweetness.

Sucking on his tip while pumping him off, awarded you with low growls. He wanted to fuck you mouth so badly, and even though you were going to let him do it, you still wanted to enjoy the moment. 

You took him whole, and with the help of your right hand, there was no spot left unattended. The left palm took care of his balls, gently massaging and squeezing them. Your ego grew at how tight, how swollen they were getting from your touch.

Your tongue tended every vein, every single inch of his cock as if you tried to ease the throbbing but you were only making it worse. He was getting even harder with every lick, every suck. 

At that moment, you held all the power. The lewd sounds your mouth made in contact with his manhood had him going crazy. His head fell back from waves of pleasure, and you fed on this sight. 

"Fuuuck…" he whined when you switched the act and your lips focused on the tip. You sucked him vigorously, rubbed him against your tensed tongue while your hand jerked him off. 

"Aah fuck baby." He grunted.

Seonghwa loved the attention, but since appetite came with eating, he wanted more. He needed you to go faster. Instinctively, he grabbed your head and positioned himself to have a ideal way while fucking your throat. 

"Tell me you want that cock", his tone sounded like he was giving you an order, but with the way he looked you deep in the eye, you knew he was asking for your permission, "Tell me."

You released him from your lips, "I want it. I need that cock deep in my throat, Park." 

At first he went slow, letting you adjust your breathing and to let you see how far he would go.

He was bigger on a thick side rather than long, which you were thankful for. Still, his length was enough to make you choke a little.

With stroking his hips, you let him know he could go faster. Seonghwa didn't have to be told twice as it was all he waited for.

"Your mouth is perfect, Alani", he grinned, eyes hazy in pleasure, "As it was made for me."

You devoured him with your mouth and eyes. The vision of him, all blushed and hot was all you needed to overflow between your legs. His frowned forehead, parted lips and heavy breathing made you feel powerful. 

"Mhm.." You hummed in excitement at the view.

Seonghwa fastened the pace of his slim, muscular hips, hearing you were having fun on his expanse. He fucked your mouth mercilessly, now his tip hitting the back if your throat. You choked and your eyes became watery but you bravely maintained the peace. 

"Holy shiiit" he cursed and panicked as the pleasure began building up too fast. 

He quickly pulled out, strings of your drool still connected him with your mouth.

"You almost made me cum, angel." 

"I wouldn't let you in the first place.'' You said sweetly despite the hoarse voice, " I want that cum inside another hole."

Seonghwa laughed and patted your head.

"Come here."

He helped you get up. Without a word he wiped your chin and collected the tears with his thumbs. You probably looked ridiculous but he enjoyed it. Then he pulled you closer by your waist. 

The kiss was soft and slower compared to the previous one as if he tried to calm both of you down. Using this moment, he took a step forward, forcing you to gently fall along with him on the bed. The affection of his lips switched to your neck, sucking and nibbling on it.

"Aah." You flinched from the stinging pain and you realized he just graced you with a hickey.

"Just leaving my mark.” He informed you nonchalantly. 

"What for?" You frowned at him.

"It'll be fun to know you struggle to hide it." He explained nonchalantly while getting busy with your breasts.

"It's gonna fade anyway."

He gazed at you with a mysterious smile, "Then I'll make another one."

Not letting you react to this promise, he released his long tongue to take care of your erect nipples.

"Aah Seonghwa."

The not so gentle massage and desperate sucking onto your bosoms made you wiggle underneath him. The man twisted your buds between his fingers, his wet tongue circling around them. He smacked them from time to time which had your pussy quiver in anticipation.

Slowly, something seemed to be waking up in him. Something dark, something unforgiving. The glow in his eyes changed. You picked up wildness and danger. It screamed at you to run but you couldn't, you didn't want to.

"I'm so wet." You decided to bring out the beast.

"Oh, I'm not missing on that." He grunted and slid down on you, granting your skin with pecks here and there.

Your legs were gently spread, and Seonghwa watched you closely, reading you like an opened book. It felt like ages as he studied your dripping, throbbing folds to the point you felt slight waves of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks.

"S-stop looking." You begged.

"No." He chuckled, eyes kept staring, "I like to take my time to look at my property."

You didn't respond to that. Your mind could not form a thought. There was so much going on.

But he wanted you to answer his claim. The man's hands slithered in from your thighs to your waist and grabbed it tightly.

His dark pupils glared at you, "Say it's mine."

"I don't belong to no one else but myself." You didn't sound confident.

"That's why you sent nudes to random men and can't make yourself cum? I always thought independence comes with self handling? Or am I wrong?" He asked sarcastically.

Thumb started massaging your clit in circle motions, slow, lazily. You were too sensitive, too vulnerable after a whole day of tiring arousal clouding your mind, burdening your body. The moans were impossible to control. His touch was too good, irresistible.

"Let's start again then." He grinned, watching how your pussy throbbed under his face. "Is this little pussy mine?"

Seonghwa did not receive an answer he wanted, and loud whimpers were not enough for him. 

"Please don't stop." You begged when his hand left your body to reach something on the side. "Seong–"

Your white lace panties you almost ripped off yourself earlier that evening magically found themselves in his hand and ended up in your mouth as your savior pushed them in there.

Attempts to spit them out were futile due to absolute dryness caused by the consuming neediness. You also didn't try to take them out. Seonghwa quickly grabbed your wrists and held them about your head. 

You could only watch as his perfect naked body laid on your right side. Your right leg got caught between his knees, while your left ankle was trapped under his right foot. He had you silenced and all spread on the sheets, caged in the position there was no escape from.

He looked you deep in the eyes.

"You're not really talkative today. Are you, Alani?" He growled. "Well, that'll change in a second."

The first slap on your folds shocked you, but what surprised you even more was the way your body reacted to it. It felt good, too good. The pain danced along with the pleasure which you had never experienced before.

Another muted whimper escaped your chords as your pussy lips met with a quick smack. He seemed to target your folds with the unforgiving slaps and then give a slow massage to your clit.

"Has the other S dude never slapped that smart-ass pussy?" He snickered, seeing your big eyes. Smack fell upon your cunt again, "He missed out. Your whimpers are to die for."

With every next slap, it hurt more, but also the pleasure doubled. Him massaging your bud in between, had you melt in the perfect combination of pain and bliss. But you needed to cum and the stinging pain controlled the process. You knew what he wanted to gain from that.

His face buried in your neck, with his lips brushing your ear.

"Is this pussy mine?' The whisper slid through his teeth. You shivered at the vibration he sent down your body. 

You moaned quietly in confirmation. It was his. You were his for as long as he wanted. You were desperate for his fingers inside you. 

"I. Did. Not. Hear you." 

Four fast and powerful smacks attacked your reddened folds, and you could help but scream and wiggle from the sensation. No matter the panties in your mouth, you nodded eagerly, trying to shout what he wanted you to say.

He smiled, satisfied, and eliminated the obstacle from your mouth. 

"Did I hear it right?"

"Yes, sir. Yes, it's yours. I'm all yours." You recited as fast as your breath allowed you. 

That was when you realized there was no possibility to play bratty with this man. The moment he stepped into your room, you were his to play with. Calling him by his name suddenly seemed disrespectful, and you didn’t want to oppose him anymore.

"Good girl." He caressed your cheeks to calm you down. "Was it worth it? Playing brave, hmm?"

"No, it wasn't, sir." You whispered as his lips hung over yours with the promise of the sweetest kiss. 

"Exactly." He grunted. "What I say is holy. Obedience is awarded while misbehavior…"

He waited for you to finish.

"...is punished."

"Smart girl." He grinned before locking his lips with yours. 

While your pussy tried to recover from the punishment, your lips got blessed with one of the sweetest kisses you had ever had. Seonghwa took his time to taste you, putting a slow and gentle pressure. He skillfully shifted from one lip to another just to finally let your tongues meet and make the kiss wetter, hotter. You were released from the caging position as he moved to hover over you. 

His lips left your mouth but never your skin. Leaving a wet trace, not forgetting about teasing your swollen breasts and erect nipples, he went down on you.

The desire pooled between your thighs as he got face to face with your womanhood. The way he marked your inner thighs with juicy, loud kisses was cute, but the look in his eyes when he looked at you was far from that.

Seonghwa had already shown you. He was dangerous. Manipulative and possessive, using ugly tactics to get what he wanted. Maybe it was your body, in a desperate need of release that made you ignore it, but you enjoyed him like this. A little too much. 

"If you cooperate, you'll get everything you want." He said with a tone like he was about to boop your nose. But he has different plans.

You inhaled sharply the moment your clit was embraced by his soft lips. He wasn't in a hurry to help you out. Slow, full licks soothed your sore folds. Only when he sensed you were alright to put more pressure, he changed his approach. The tongue dived deeper into your slit, right into your wetness.

The pleased murmuring that shook his chords attacked your core. You were severely throbbing on his tongue, satisfying his taste buds as well as his ego. You arched your back in overcoming delight as the first orgasmic shocks poked your nerves. The wet noises and your untamed moaning bounced between the wall of your bedroom. 

You looked at him as you felt his tongue tensing, hardening against your folds and moved onto your clit. The pace of his tongue lapping was immediate, fast and indisputable.

Unconsciously, your legs attempted to cage him between, but Seonghwa was having none of it. His hands firmly grabbed your under knees, almost pinning them against your chest. Now he had access to both your pretty holes. His tongue melted with your cunt, salivating all over it. His drool was thick and flooding. You watched how the pace he was gracing you with caused all the wetness to turn into a foamy matter. The view itself was enough to chase the ecstasy to crush into you.

"Holy shiit, Park!" You cried out. "I'm cumming."

Seonghwa detached from you at the sound of his last name.

"Who the fuck you think you're talking to?" He growled out dangerously while grinning maniacally.

You didn't dare to whine from denied orgasm. The man hovering above your dripping cunt wasn't a type to tease and to disrespect. The bliss clouded your mind. You were in the wrong here.

"I'm sorry, sir." You cried out in desperation, shaking on your body. "I'm so sorry. Your mouth fucks me so good it makes me stupid. Forgive me."

"Damn, Alani. You know what to say to melt my heart, don't you?" 

"Please sir, let me cum." You were close to tears.

"Oh, I will." He promised, which sounded more like a threat.

One arm was enough to keep your legs in place. And then he was glued to your clit again, returning to the previous sweet torture. But Seonghwa couldn't resist that hole of yours, basically screaming for him to fuck it. 

Two fingertips first massaged the inside of your folds in up and down motions. They traced your slit, the edges of your oozing entrance. Despite your trembling of anticipation for his digits to pound inside you, you still were unprepared how fast and deep he stuck them in. 

You sobbed at the rough but fullfilling treatment.

As his tongue twirled on your clit, his fingers studied you. Seonghwa wanted to know how soft and warm you were, how tight were those walls of yours. He was about to lose his mind from the way you cramped around his digits. You were so close.

"Seonghwa!" You screamed and that one word was all you could master.

He smiled and grunted in confirmation. It was time to watch you break for the first time in front of his eyes. At last. 

Your body felt like falling off the cliff of crushing ecstasy. It seemed like the time slowed down, your eyes went blurry and your ears filled with the buzzing sound of all the vibrations going through you like electric waves.

Seonghwa rode your orgasm, leading it everywhere he wanted. He fed on the sight of you arched back and hands sloppily massaging your breasts. The man slowly decreased the speed of his fingers fucking you to let your orgasm peacefully fade. He wanted to see it all.

Breathing heavily, you sunk in your bed again and looked at him. You watched your essence coating his fingers and dripping down his chin. 

"You like it like that, don't you, doll?" He said with a devilish grin. "Wet and messy."

"Yes, sir." You whimpered at the sight of his body as he sat up. 

He grabbed your thighs and slid his own, tanned and muscular legs underneath them. Seonghwa was now sitting down with your thighs embracing his tiny waist. 

You flinched at the sudden touch and weight of his fat, hard like stone cock on your cunt that throbbed more with every second. The low whine left your lips as he grabbed his pride and slapped your folds a few times as if it was a meet and greet.

"I'm finally getting my dick sink inside that little pussy of yours, baby." He hissed in anticipation. "You need daddy's cock real bad, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes, daddy. I need it badly." You begged, inviting him with sensual movements of your hips.

You both whined, him at your tightness and warmth, and you at his mass stretching you out incredibly.

You needed a moment to yourself to adjust, but he didn't plan to be thoughtful anymore.

"Y-you're so t-thick."

You felt his hands slide underneath your waist and with one strong pull, you crushed into his torso. With all strength, you tried to pull yourself up on his arms to control the speed of how deep you were sinking onto him in that position but no use. 

"Oh my fuck!" You cursed as his cock mercilessly invaded you until his balls made it impossible to go further.

Seonghwa smiled, all cocky at your struggle to take him in, "You can take him, baby. I know you can."

With a powerful smack, he grabbed your ass and forced it to move against him. You moaned at the suddenness of it but you understood the digression. Slowly but decisively, you began grinding him. You were so full of him and could not stop loud moans from leaving your lips every time you moved. His girth put amazing pressure on your cramping walls, rubbing every sensitive spot of your interiors. 

With every next grind, you felt more comfortable to fasten your pace. You tightened the embrace around his neck and looked him in the eyes. He raised an eyebrow, clearly challenging you. And you accepted the challenge. 

Slowly, you pushed him onto the bed, your fingertips drawing lines on his torso. You put your hips in a faster pace the moment his hands grabbed your waist. 

His eyes watched you closely, learning every detail about you by heart. Your bitten lip, hazy gaze, the way your breasts waved as you rocked body back and forth. Seonghwa couldn't help himself as his hands wandered higher and grasped your bosoms to squeeze them together. Your nipples begged to be sucked but you wanted him to stay in that position.

You pushed him when seeing he began to raise himself up to suck on them, "No." 

You wanted to sound firm but his thick cock, overtaking you caused your voice to pathetically crack.

His laugh really showed he was underestimating you. It made you angry, even being in the state you were in. You leaned over and caged his head between your hands. He couldn't hold a moan when your pussy began stroking him in a merciless manner. You needed to see him losing control, crying out your name and begging you to stop. However this new position affected you as well. His tip now had a clean path to your sweet spot.

"Come on." He teased as your face started showing the signs of weakness. Seonghwa was not going to let you have any power over him.

Your hips swayed as you found a perfect angle. Not able to stop, you focused on fucking yourself off. It felt too good, too perfect to let his arrogance take the first place. 

"That's what I thought." He summed your failed challenge.

With this, you immediately had his hand around your neck, making your face hang close, right above his. Seonghwa enjoyed you, not wanting to let go of any second on having you brainless because of him. 

Your grinds lost their power and turned sloppy. The way your walls cramped around his length and how you shivered let him know you were close. 

The grasp on your neck tightened. You watched how he bared his teeth.

"Don't you dare to cum without my command." 

"P-Please.." 

"NOT without my command."

You stopped moving and stayed like that, with his cock buried deep inside you. But the orgasm couldn't be tamed.

"I can't ho-old it." You stuttered out, fighting as hard as you could.

"I don't care." He was unforgiving, torturing you seemed the best fun. Seeing a chance, he pinned his pelvis against you. You didn't know what he was thinking would happen to you when having his dick going even deeper so suddenly. 

You came undone in an instant, moaning loud apologies, pleading for forgiveness. But Seonghwa was not having it. Your hands got twisted and interlocked behind your back, held by the strong grip of his hand. You fell onto him, your head resting on his collarbone.

"Lesson time." He growled, threatening.

With another hand on your lower back, there was no escape from his plans. The pace he put into smashing inside you was crazy. Despite him being underneath you, in a not so comfortable position. His stamina was out of this world if he was able to uphold the tempo he went for. Seonghwa was heartless with the way he attacked your overstimulated womanhood.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Wait a second! Let me-aahh" 

You had no right to speak or refuse. Not after disobeying him right into his face. Now, all you could do was allow him to wreak havoc inside you while feeding his cocky side with your whines and screams.

His right hand sneaked down from your lower back. The sudden invasion of his middle finger inside your ass was shocking but also very welcome as it only added to the pleasure. He had done it many times, you were sure of that. And he knew it worked miracles.

Seonghwa attacked your sweet spot from both sides, having an entire control over your holes while his pubic area rubbed onto your clit over and over.

"Aaah fuck." You couldn’t afford to scream or even moan. All you let out was a whisper that he might've not even heard. The tears of overwhelming pleasure fell from your rolled up eyes. Your next release came fast, having you shake on your whole body. 

“Yees, baby.” He growled, amused in his madness of razing you. “Give it all to me.”

Only when having you spasming in pure ecstasy again Seonghwa shifted in his movements. Directing your hips against his waving pelvis, he made you ride your orgasm with deep and slow grinds. You were in heaven with the way the pleasure was reaching every cell in your body as his mass twitched inside of you.

The moment he let go of your body, you torpidly rolled off of him. The cold sheet embraced your burning body. But Seonghwa only allowed you to rest for a short second. You didn’t notice that he got off the bed. Now he stood beside it, right beyond your head.

He waited. 

You gathered your strength to sit down, facing him. 

His perfect, naked proportion flooded your eyesight. Seonghwa was gorgeous, now standing tall with his hands behind his back and his whole body for your hungry eyes. His caramel skin glistened in sweat. Every muscle was enhanced from the ridiculous workout he did while fucking you into a oblivion. His cock, now painfully hard and throbbing, was ready to explode. You desired him more and more. The familiar excitement began filling you again. 

Seonghwa watched you, satisfied by your state and feeding on your admiration as you were eyeing him up and down like a starving lioness.

He grinned at you, “All four for me. Now.”

You took a few deep breaths, preparing yourself for another set of pleasure soon coming your way. Deep down in your mind, you tried to kill the fear before the unknown. Seonghwa just took what he wanted, making sure you wouldn't be able to let him go. And you were afraid of it.

You did as he said. Now, with your ass stuck out, offered to him, you whimpered in neediness. Feeling his weight on the bed, you rolled your hips, inviting him to take care of you faster. 

He groped your cheeks and massaged them, smacking them in between before spreading them wide to watch the stage he enjoyed so much performing on. 

You heard him inhaling sharply at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“You cum so much, baby. I can’t be worse, can I?” 

“Seonghwa-” you whined at the feeling of his tip painting abstracts with you cum on your slit and higher, on your asshole.

The way your pussy shamelessly throbbed had his head spinning. It was a sweet invitation he couldn’t say no to, that he would never say no to. It was his turn to focus on his own release. The need to flood you made his mask of sanity slowly slip.

You had been roaming in his mind from the moment he laid his eyes on you for the first time. The fact that you were his best friend’s little sister only added the fuel to the flame. You were forbidden, out of reach. And as if his prayers were heard, you called for him tonight.

He entered you powerfully, and after one series of firm pushes that had you melt like butter, you felt a sudden pressure against your asshole. Whatever that was, it was hard, cold and pretty big. You tried to steal a glimpse of what it was, but the position made it impossible. However, you managed to see the glow of silver.

Your toy. He must’ve picked up from the ground where you threw all the useless tools. Damn, the man was perceptive. As if he knew, you always used that one for your anal masturbation.

Quickly, you laid your upper body on the bed, making your ass protruding even more for him to ruin. 

“Filthy doll.” he chuckled, enjoying this more than he wanted to admit. You were responding to his every idea. You were a dream lover to his twisted nature.

The metal went in slowly but decisively. You accepted it proudly, familiar with the feeling. Now, with both your holes stuffed, you had to bite the sheets from the sensation. The lewdness took over and your self-respect got locked up somewhere in the deepest void.

You were ready for Seonghwa to do the worst to you. 

The tight grip on your hip would definitely leave bruises but you couldn’t care less. That was all you needed today in your high level of arousal - the man to absolutely demolish you. 

You loved the primal and animalistic feeling of being taken from behind. He pounded inside you, having the best access to your most sensitive spots. The pace was firm and even but too slow for your desperation to cum again. You knew it was his turn to chase the high. However, you have to feel more.

You reached for the toy and began fucking your ass with it, even though Seonghwa initially wanted it to fill you and stay there as he takes care of your pussy. 

"Holy fuck." You blurted out from the pleasure of the double penetration.

Seonghwa wasn't a fan of it. He watched your hand pomp that toy inside your ass. Was he third wheeling right now? He felt the unexplainable needle of anger to stun his pride. The main joy was supposed to come from his cock, not from a synthetic, fake version of it. 

“You've got to be kidding me.” He grunted in disbelief.

The toy immediately disappeared, ripped from your hand and thrown somewhere onto the floor. When it came to you, you ended up on your back, with a whole raging bull between your legs.

“Seong-”

“Don’t stop looking at me?” He commanded, seeing how your eyes wandered around to understand what was happening. 

And you listened. 

You looked deep in those dark eyes when he raised your hips up and let his cock slid inside your ass, replacing the toy. The further he penetrated you, the more you trembled. Seonghwa grinned at your face, contorting with a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“I’m so fu-ull.” You moaned between fast breaths. 

“And so fucking tight.” He smiled, struggling to keep his cool. “I will work you out in a minute, don’t worry, baby.”

You engulfed his thickness, overwhelmed by the intensity of when he began slowly thrusting inside you. You could already tell that the next orgasm would be the reason for you developing an obsession for that man. Unhealthy obsession.  

Seonghwa did not stop holding your gaze, making sure your eyes remained glued to him, despite them wanting to roll up from the bliss. His impatient thumb found a way to your pussy and dived in, while the rest of four fingers laid flat on your clit. 

“You’re gonna take it all. Every thrust, every grind, every drop.”

The pace fastened, and you couldn’t hold it anymore. Your body arched, hand grasping onto the sheets. He seemed to be everywhere, surrounding you from all sides. You were so full of him, owned and possessed.

Seonghwa knew it was time to let all the demons out. He needed to cum, fast and intense. He desired to flood your tight walls while your unsatisfied cunt coat his fingers with your hot cum. 

“Fuck fuck.” He was close, really close. 

The man raised up on his feet, forcing your pelvis to go even higher. His right hand embraced your neck and made you look at him again. You were meant to watch him make you his. You grabbed his arms all adorned with popping veins, looking how he positioned himself above you. 

There was no delicacy this time, no mercy. He fucked your asshole like his well being depended on it. He listened to your loud, high pitched moans and whines. You were glad you lived in a house and not in an apartment. You would not have been able to look your neighbors in the eye the next day.

The thumb gave its place to two fingers that tips quickly found a way to your g-spot. 

“Oh my fuuck!” 

It was too much, too heavy for the last thin string holding you together. Your protracted whine gave you away along with the increased cramping on your walls both around his digits and cock.

Seonghwa was quick to take advantage of it.

“Who does your ass belong to, huh? Who does your pussy belong to?” He demanded an answer, tightening the grasp around your neck, pushing his dick and fingers even deeper. “Who do you belong to?”

You were coming with his name on your lips, crying it out loud as waves of electrifying blissfulness washed over you, one greater than previous. You were right. The obsession over Seonghwa was inevitable. He was more than you would have wished for, with his knowledge how to make you go crazy and his thick, perfect cock. 

As the first spasm hit his body, his hand left your neck to support himself on your spread legs. He was ready to welcome the crushing ecstasy.

“Holy fuck. Take it all like a good girl I know you can be-”

The man couldn’t say anything more. The pleasure only allowed his chords to birth grunts, and when he came undone, the most beautiful moans were sent your way. You could feel any throb and twitch of his cock as he shot a hot load inside your walls. He came a lot, which immediately leaked out of you when Seonghwa slid out of you.

Breathing hard, he slowly laid your hips down onto the bed and fell beside you. The sex, as well as proceding it, exhausting arousal drained both of you. You laid there, dripping in sweat and cum, trying to bring your sanity back on earth. 

“You’re perfect.”

Him suddenly voicing his thoughts, had you surprised but you also wanted to let him know what you were thinking of him.

“You’re perfect.” 

“Really? Then I don’t feel like letting you go.”

“Then don’t.”

You looked at him, Seonghwa was already watching you. The moment he noticed he had your attention, he graced you with a most heartwarming smile. With his hair all wet and messy, with sweat pouring down his face, he was breathtaking. He was just wrecking your holes a minute ago and now there he was, cute, making you melt. 

“Come on.” He suddenly got up and quickly walked over to your side. 

You blinked in disbelief of him still having some energy, “Where?”

“First you need to pee”, he picked you up and began walking to the bathroom, “And then we’re taking a long shower."

“So you can be gentle.” You giggled, embracing his neck.

You smile at yourself in the full length mirror positioned in the small one bedroom apartment you’d just moved into.  Your first day on the job was today and you were practicing your camera ready smile one last time before heading to the station.  You’d gotten the full tour and met your bosses the week prior, in between the insanity of moving and figuring your way around this part of town.  You’d met some of your neighbors and had finally managed to get essentials unpacked to the point where you could cook something easy, and not have to dig through boxes for clothing. 

Adjusting your hair, checking your makeup, then smoothing your hands over the curves of your hips to check the fit of the new suit, you finally give yourself the approval to head in to your first real shift.  

There were many things you’d expected to encounter with having entered into your first real job after university.  As a communications major, you couldn’t believe you’d actually made it through all of the interviews to be offered the job as a copywriter for the local broadcasting station.  Smiling happily as you walk into the station, you scan your badge to make your way through the security and onto the elevators.  

You’d expected to be in awe and overwhelmed at the sheer size of the building, the hustle and bustle of the workers going in and out of the offices around you, the rush of people getting on and off of the elevators as you finally emerge at your floor.  Expected the slight annoyance of the secretary who had to direct you to the correct direction where you were to be working.  

These and so many other things, you’d thought of, anticipated and expected.  But never in a million thoughts of what your first day would be like had you expected to run into the one person in your life that you’d actually decided years ago that you hated.

Kang Yeosang.

You almost stumble with how quickly you halt as his familiar face looks up at you when you walk into the large office space.  Your lip curls involuntarily as you take in his dark hair, longer than you remember but styled nicely.  You despise how good he looks in his tailored suit, the lean boy you knew had definitely filled out and had definitely become a man.  You catch your expression and replace the sneer with a cheerful smile, looking away from the offensive man who has your mind racing.  You greet your new coworkers even as your brain is peppering you with questions.

Why was he here? 

Was he your coworker now? 

Were you expected to work with him?

HIM? Of all people, WHY HIM?!?!

Doing your best to not let your panic show, you greet everyone else and let a nice soft spoken man direct you to your workspace.  You smile down at the cute little cubicle, the empty shelf above the computer you were going to be doing your work on.  Ill have to get some decor for it, you’re thinking as you hear someone clear their throat next to you. 

Looking up, you do your best not to flinch at the dark eyes glaring at you.  “Y/n.” is all he says, in his deep, smooth voice.  Irritated already and he’d only said your name, you square your shoulders and plaster on a big fake smile.  “Yeosang.”  He mirrors your weird toothy smile as he speaks tightly through his teeth to you.  “Why are you here?” he says, his tone laced with frustration even as he grins at you.  

Letting out a small laugh, you can only plop yourself down at your workstation as you bat your eyelashes up at him and bite back, “I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you. Now, I’d love to start my first day of work. Fighting!” you say, overly bright and cheerful as you raise a fist at him and he huffs, rolling his eyes as he walks away.  

Definitely not the start you were expecting at all.

Groaning as you make your way into your apartment, you sigh as you toss your bag, kicking off your shoes.  You make your way into the kitchen to drop the bag of groceries as you notice that you only have one.  You’d definitely had two when you left the store….you think, rubbing your eyes in frustration.  It’d been a long week and you’d barely slept.

Rubbing your neck, you make your way back to your door before you hear knocking.  “Yes?” you call out and you hear a male voice on the other side.  “Hi, I’m your neighbor from across the hall? I think you left your bag out here?” you sigh in relief as you throw open your door, happy you hadn’t left it anywhere weird.  “Thank you-” you say, but you almost choke as you are looking at the chest of the man in front of you.  

Your eyes travel up, up, up as they finally settle on the extremely tall man’s face.  And what a face, his baby face is unexpected with his height.  His gentle smile is calming after the week you’d had.  “Oh, thank you so much.  I’m losing my mind.  I must have set it down as I was getting out my key…” you say, taking it from him gratefully.  He smiles at you, holding out his hand.  

“I’m Soobin, I live right across here if you need anything.” he says, and you take his hand, happy to meet someone so pleasant.  “I’m Y/n, it’s very nice to meet you.  And I don’t have much right now but if you need anything as well…” you gesture and he nods.  “Great, neighbor.  It’s very nice to meet you.  I do have friends over occasionally, so if you see some shady tall men coming over in hoodies looking suspect, they're just my idiot friends.  But feel free to let me know if anyone bothers you.” he says and you laugh.  

“Well it’s nice meeting you, Y/n, have a great evening and it’s nice to have you in the building.” he says, and you wave as he makes his way back to his own place.  “Oh! Thank you again, by the way!” you say, holding up the bag.  “Welcome!” he says and you go back in to make dinner, a little happier than before.  

As you settle yourself in for the night, happy that you have the next two days off, you check your messages.  Noticing that one of your friends from university was messaging, you decide to just call her.  

“Yo!” you hear her voice as she answers, and you can’t help but snort. “Way to answer, Ty,” you say and she just huffs.  “How’s the new job?” she asks and you flop on your bed, sighing.  “Oof, that bad?” You rub your face as you groan.  “Nah, the job itself is awesome.  Just…ran into a very old…I guess I wouldn’t call him ex-friend.  More like an enemy.” “Oho….YOU have an enemy?” she says in disbelief.  

“It’s a stupid story, it shouldn’t even matter anymore.” you say, glaring at your wall.  “Come on, spill it.  It’s bothering you even now, so it’s not all that stupid.” You bite your lip, thinking of the best way to sum it up.  “Remember when I told you I had a best friend back in high school? But that we’d fallen out because of a stupid guy?” you say, and she groans.  “Oh no, is he the stupid guy?” she asks and you just hum in response.  

“Ew, I hate that.  What actually happened?” she asks and you close your eyes, recalling the events.  “Just…I liked a guy and told my supposed best friend at the time.  I did the idiot thing and confessed to him…” you hear your friend groan in sympathy on the other end.  “Yeah….well let’s just say he turned me down in a pretty harsh way.  I was so humiliated. And then not a few weeks later, that best friend was dating that stupid guy. The end.” Your friend makes a puking noise and you just nod at the wall.  “Yep.  Stupid high school shit, you see what I mean? He’s a jerk, I hate him.  Probably the only person I have ever said I’ve hated.”

“Fuck, what kind of douchebag humiliates someone confessing, especially in front of other people? That’s just…disgusting.” your friend says and you can only sigh.  “It was senior year of high school, ages ago.  It doesn’t even matter.  I should get over it.” you say, trying to convince yourself.  “Fuck that guy, dude.  No way. Just avoid him if you can. Oh…wait didn’t you say you have to write and do all the research and fact checking for his segments?” You just groan and she chuckles.  “Good luck my friend, just give me a call if you need and I’ll come set his ass straight.” “Deal. Night, Ty.” you say before hanging up and heading to bed. 

You spend the next day cleaning, organizing and unpacking the rest of your stuff, finally able to enjoy the full space you have.  It’s not large by any means, but it makes you happy to be out of shared dorms and renting rooms, finally having your own entire apartment.  You sing happily along to your favorite upbeat playlist, and finally stop as you take in your work.  “Hm…” you murmur, then make your way to find your little notepad.  Making a list of all the things you need to grab, you shower and change.  

As you shut your door, you notice your neighbor’s door is open.  “Hello?” you call out, being nosy enough to worry.  “Oh hey!” you hear behind you and you turn to see Soobin and another very tall man lugging a chair from the stairwell.  “Oh! I thought you might have left your door open by accident, sorry for being rude…” you say and he laughs, giving you a big smile as they take the chair inside.  “Nah, I’m glad you cared enough to check.  Yeonjun, this is my neighbor, Y/n. She just moved in.  Y/n, Yeonjun.  He’s a good friend of mine, you’ll probably see him around a bit.”  You smile at the handsome man, and he comes over to take your hand.  “Nice to meet you.” he says, and you can only marvel at them both.  

“What the hell did your parents feed you both?” you blurt out and they just look at eachother then start laughing as you cover your mouth in embarrassment.  “Must be something in the water,” Yeonjun says, grinning at you.  “Sorry, my mouth sometimes…” you say, blushing.  “No it’s fine,” Soobin says, coming over to pat you on the head.  “I mean, you are pretty short though, so…” you shake your head at him, surprised at how comfortable you already feel with him.  “Yeah yeah, well…sorry for being intrusive.  I’m heading out,” you say, giving them a small wave.  

“Hey! Before you go, if you feel up to it, tonight we’re having some pizza and probably watching a movie, or games or whatever.” he says and you nod.  “Oh I don’t mind any noise, really.”  you say, reassuring him.  “Y/n, I’m asking if you want to come by and hang out.” he says, smiling down at you.  “Oh! Um…well I’m just going to get some things I need for my place, but if I’m feeling up to it…” you respond.  “No pressure, just letting you know you’re welcome.” he says and you nod, waving goodbye to them both and heading out.  

Later after your shopping trip and taking in your space, you happily flop onto the couch.  “My own place…” you say to the ceiling and let out a content sigh.  Closing your eyes, you notice the sounds coming from across the hall.  They are faint but occasionally you can hear a laugh or a voice here and there.  “Too tired…” you murmur, then you let yourself drift off, enjoying the happy sounds from the neighbors and the bliss of being surrounded by your own personal bubble without having to share it with anyone else.

Monday morning comes around so quickly, you think as you play out your normal routine of double checking your outfit, hair, makeup.  Your excitement from the previous Monday was overshadowed by the knowledge that you’d have to work with Yeosang this week.  Last week had been mostly free of the man, but you’d been told this week you’d be discussing your actual duties with the anchor.  You’d found out from some of the other copywriters that he was fairly new and had been hired on recently as a news anchor.  

Deciding to focus on how much you actually loved the job itself, you head out.  You smile at your neighbors door, happy to have made some new friends along with your new place and job.  You’d gone by on Sunday to thank him for inviting you even though you hadn’t stopped by.  You’d baked him some cookies and he and his friends had happily gobbled them up as they bombarded you with questions and chatted away.  You found out they were idol trainees and were just as astounded at the other three giant men.  None as tall as Soobin, they were all just as handsome as the next. Now a bit more comfortable, you voiced your opinion about how good looking they all were, making them all coo over you, lavishing you with praise and it made you giggle at how silly they were.  Soobin had apologized for them all as you made your way home, but not before asking if you could exchange numbers, which you did happily.  

So, you let the happy thoughts of new friends energize your mood, rather than the upcoming stress you’re going to have to deal with.  You greet your coworkers cheerfully as you settle yourself at your desk, humming one of your favorite songs.  You go through your routine, checking emails and memos, double checking some previous week's edits, when you feel a presence behind you.  Turning, you purse your lips as you take in the one person that could drag you down from your little happy cloud. 

“Yeosang.” you say flatly and you’re just greeted by his stupid, stoic gaze.  “Y/n.” he responds and you struggle to not roll your eyes at him.  “I suppose it’s time for our one on one meeting,” you say, standing and grabbing your notebook and pen.  “Aren’t you going to bring a laptop?” he asks and you just return his bored stare.  “I prefer my notebook, thank you.  Can we go now?” you ask and he sighs, gesturing for you to go into the small conference room down the hall.  

Despite the tension between you, the meeting itself goes well, both of you mature and professional enough to stick to the topic of what is expected of the both of you, what your working relationship is, and so on.  You’d be expected to revise and edit anything he wrote for his segments, and at times write some yourself if he needed you.  Since you were both new, they’d paired you together.  

After establishing expectations and plotting out what you’ll be doing for the week, you close your notebook and nod, standing to go back to your desk.  “Send me anything you have at the moment through my email.  If that’s all…” you say, nodding your head at him before turning to leave. 

 “One more thing.” he calls out, his deep tone causing you to halt.  Turning, you just eye him, waiting for him to continue.  He clears his throat, looking away momentarily before he glances back at you.  “Why here?” he asks bluntly and you can only blink at him, not quite understanding.  “Excuse me?” 

“Why did you come to work here? Why this field? Are you…stalking me?” he asks, glaring at you.  You can only bark out a laugh as you reach out to grab a chair near you.  Glancing up at the ceiling to collect yourself, you take a moment to form words.  Words that won’t get you fired and escorted from the building.  

“Stalking you? Stalking you.” you shake your head at him and he crosses his arms, leaning back against the conference table.  “What other explanation do you have for being here?” he asks, a stupid smug smirk on his face and you have to refrain from swearing at him.  Or punching him in his pretty little face.  

“Explanation? I’m sorry, but last time I checked I’m a grown woman with the ability to do what I want.  But I’ll humor you.” You slap your notebook down on the table's surface, irritated. “I went to school for this career, I worked my ass off through university, I went through the interviews and I have every qualification to be exactly where I am.  As I am sure you do as well. My first thought when I saw you wasn’t that YOU were stalking ME, but I suppose I’m not the type of person you are.” you say, trying your best to not yell at the man.  

His eyes only show a hint of surprise before they return to their bored state.  “So just a coincidence then?” he says, his expression showing doubt.  You snatch your notebook to your chest and stare daggers at the offensive man. 

“I have no intention of continuing this conversation.  You must think very highly of yourself to even consider such a thing. I stopped thinking about you long ago, Kang Yeosang.  Especially after what you did.  You’re nothing to me, except someone I have to work with so do me the common courtesy of leaving me the fuck alone unless it has to do with our job.” you bite out, then turn on your heel to leave the room, heading back to your desk. 

You close your eyes, taking a moment to calm yourself down and breathe.  Stupid jerk, you think, sighing.  Taking a moment, you check your phone and can’t help but smile.  Soobin had texted to thank you for the cookies.  “At least some people are nice.” you mutter and shake your head, deciding to focus on your work for the rest of the day.

By the middle of the week, things seem to be fairly normal, sleep, work, dinner and dramas- repeat.  You’re settling into a nice routine, heading into work on Thursday morning when Yeosang approaches you while you’re making your way to the elevators up to your floor.  Ignoring him, you join everyone else as they make their way into the cramped box.  

Noticing that someone has pressed the button for your floor, you busy yourself with checking your messages and responding to some friends before you start your day.  “We need to talk.” you hear from right beside you and you glance up to see Yeosang’s face inches from yours.  Flinching back a bit, you immediately return to your phone.  “I’m serious.” his low tone says into your ear and you wince from his proximity.  “I’m not getting paid to deal with you at the moment so-” you start but he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him as he whispers to you.  

“Cut the attitude, why haven’t you responded to my emails?” he hisses into your ear and you glare up at him.  “What emails?” you ask him and he sighs, his eyes dark and intense.  “I sent you emails last night, why are you ignoring them? It’s important.” he whispers back, and you sigh.  “Yeosang…if you sent them after company time, I don’t have access to work email from my home.” you respond quietly, watching people get on and off as you wait to get to your floor.  

“Can we just talk about this in the office?” you ask, growing uncomfortable with how you’re being jostled and pushed closer to him as people board and leave.  Someone bumps you, causing you to grab his arms so you don’t fall and you find yourself looking up into Yeosang’s face as he catches you.  Your lips part momentarily as you try to catch your breath, having never been this close to him before.  He was even more handsome this close, the birthmark by his eye almost beckoning you to reach up and touch it.  Then he’s letting you go as you pull away, straightening your blouse.  

“Our floor.” you hiss at him, pushing your way out of the cramped space and into the lobby.  Immediately his hand is on your arm, pulling you along with him into a small room.  Shutting the door behind him, he turns to look at you.  “Look-” he says but you stop him, walking right up to him to poke him in the chest.  “I don’t know what makes you think you can talk to me and drag me around like I’m some personal toy of yours.  Despite what a dick you were in high school, we’re adults now, Kang Yeosang.  Treat me like one or I’ll request to work with someone else.” 

He puts his hands up, his eyes getting big.  “Ok, I’m…sorry.” he manages to get out but you can see the glint in his eyes that he’s unhappy.  Like you gave a shit.  “So what the hell is it about emails?” you ask, turning to look at the room he’d dragged you into.  It was a small office with a desk and a little loveseat.  “Where even are we?” you ask and he sighs, going to the desk.  “My office.” he says and you nod.  At least he hadn’t pushed you into a broom closet like some cliche drama.  

Settling on the loveseat, you cross your legs and arms, waiting for his response.  “I had some last minute edits I needed for this morning's broadcast.” he says, pulling up something on his computer.  “What time are you going on air?” you ask and he glances up at the clock.  “9:30am, 45 minutes from now.  Could you-” he says, but you’re already up and pushing him out of the way, seating yourself in his chair.  “This?” you ask, glancing up at him, catching his annoyed look.  

“I can go.” you say and he shakes his head, his eyes swiftly going to the computer.  “This … and this…” he says, pointing to a few emails he’d sent.  Opening the files, you start to work, then stop as you realize he’s hovering over you.  “Shoo.” you say and you lock eyes with him for a moment before he retreats.  “Fine, I’ll go grab coffee. Do you think-” “I’ll take mine with two cream and one sugar, thanks.” you say, never taking your eyes off your task.  Hearing his sigh, you wait for the door to shut before you let the smirk creep over your face.  Jerk, you think, you deserve it.

You manage to finish your work with plenty of time to spare, looking up finally to see Yeosang seated on the small couch, a frown pulling down his pretty lips.  Pretty lips? Ugh, you sigh, rubbing your eyes and standing up to stretch.  “Done.” you say, glancing down to notice the little paper cup of coffee he’d placed next to you.  “Thanks.” you say, holding it up and heading to the door.  

“Y/n…” he says softly and you halt, glancing towards him.  His expression doesn’t change but he gives you a brief nod.  “Thanks.” You just nod back, then open the door, making your way back to your work area.  Yeosang had the decency to have informed your coworkers that you were already there, saving you the hassle.  Once the end of the day rolls around, you grab your things and head towards the elevators to make your way home.  

Just before the doors close, you notice Yeosang push his way onto the lift, then make his way to you.  Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes (yet again, this man was going to make you insane,) you just frown at him as he leans against the wall next to you.  “Thank you again for today.” he says and you stare at him in shock.  “Wow…two thank you’s in one day? I wasn’t aware that you knew any nice words.” you bite out, then clamp your mouth shut.  

The urge to speak without thinking around him was so strong and you just frown down at your arms before putting on your fake smile to look back up at him.  “You’re so very welcome, Mr. Kang. Anything to help.” you say and he just shakes his head.  He doesn’t say anything as the lift descends, but as you finally reach the bottom floor, he walks beside you as you leave the building.  

Stopping, you turn to glare at him.  “What now?” you ask and he sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and toeing the concrete sidewalk.  “Since you can’t check emails outside of work…perhaps we should exchange numbers just in case.” he says, not looking at you.  Huffing, you just pull out your phone and hand it to him.  “Fine, put your number in and I’ll text you so you have mine.  Hurry, so I don’t miss my bus.”  he just gives you an annoyed look as he takes the device and plugs his number in. 

“If I-” he starts but you put your hand up, texting him so he has your number.  Putting your phone away, you cross your arms.  “Yes, I’ll answer and help if you need it.  I’m not an asshole like some people.” you say, then turn on your heel to head swiftly towards your bus stop, leaving the flustered man behind.

“One more day….one more day…” you mutter to yourself as you make your way home.  When you finally get to your place and are fishing out your key, you hear the door open behind you.  “Hey there.” you hear and turn to smile up at Soobin.  “Hey! How was your day?” you ask, finally finding the key and opening your door.  “Oh fine, sorry I caught you right as you were-” he says but you wave away his apology.  “No no, it’s fine, come on in.” you say, holding open the door.  He smiles and comes in with you.  

“Oh, interesting.  I guess they are all set up the same, just flipped.” he says, glancing around.  “Yeah, it’s kinda fun to see how others decorate.” you say, smiling at him as you set your bag down.  “Oh so, you said you work at a broadcasting station right?” he asks and you nod, offering him a water bottle.  “Yep, at channel 17 downtown.” he accepts the drink and smiles happily.  

“So you work with Kang Yeosang?” he asks eagerly and you feel your smile falter. “Oh…yes.  Do you know him?” you ask and he nods excitedly.  “I went to the same university as him and I was a big fan of his when he did live mc stuff for the school.  He’s so cool.” Soobin says, his eyes sparkling.  “I saw that he’d started there and was on the news this week.  I realized you’d said you worked for a station and I had to ask.  That’s so cool!” he exclaims and you can’t help but giggle a little.  

“Sorry…” he trails off, his cheeks going a little rosy.  “I’m just…I guess I am a bit of a fanboy of his.  He was always so kind to me in university, cheering me on ... .well all of us trainees who also went to uni.  I doubt he’d remember me.  But … wow.  That’s just so neat that you work with him.”  he says and you’re too struck by his cheerfulness to be angry about his personal idol.  

“Well…I’m glad you had a great experience with him.  I actually went to high school with him.” you say before you can stop yourself.  His eyes light up and you wince internally.  No need to tell him what kind of person he was then, you think.  “Oh wow!” he says and you pat his arm. “We weren’t close, not even friends.  You definitely deserved the encouragement, any person could see how bubbly and happy you are.  If that translates to your dancing and singing, I bet you’re amazing.” you say and he glows as you praise him.  

“Thank you, Y/n! I’ll have to show you sometime.” he says and you nod, reminded of a big puppy.  “Of course, I’d love that.  And feel free to stop by anytime.” you say as he says his goodbyes.  “I will! Especially if you continue to bake!” you just laugh and shake your head as you close the door.  “How cute.” you say and go to relax for the evening, debating what to make for them next time.

Once you finally turn in for the night, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep, your phone lights up and you hear the sound of a text message.  “Mrrrhhgg..” you grunt, rolling over to glance at it.  “Seriously?” you mumble, sighing and rubbing your eyes as you read the text.

‘Y/n, I need your help with this.  Are you awake?’

“Freaking Kang Yeosang,” you grumble, sitting up.  

‘I am now….’

Huffing, you get out of bed, glaring at the comfy pillow you’re leaving behind.  Really, just one more day, then the weekend.  You keep repeating that as you make your way to your computer to figure out the jerk’s issue.  

Which is how you found yourself irritated, tired and running behind as you make your way through the doors of the building, rushing to the elevators as you try to get to your desk on time.  You flop down in your chair, checking the time and sighing in relief.  You only had a few minutes to spare, but your normal routine was disrupted and you grit your teeth as you realize you hadn’t even checked your hair.  

Well, nothing to be done about it now, you think, pulling out a small mirror just to make sure you don’t look like a complete mess.  “Y/n!” you hear your coworker call to you.  “Oh yes? Minseok, correct?” you ask.  “Yes, you remembered.” he says and you smile at him.  He’d been so polite and nice to you since you’d come.  “We’re having a small gathering tonight to welcome you and a few new people to the team, right after work.  I hope you can come.” he says and you groan a little inwardly, knowing you’re going to be tired by the end of the day with such little sleep.  

But the eager look on Minseok’s face and the smiles from the others listening make you feel like you can’t decline.  “Actually, it sounds like fun.  I’ll look forward to it.  Just let me know where to meet after we’re done for the day.” you tell him and he nods, giving you a small wave as he makes his way back to his desk.  

Cursing Yeosang for the nth time in your head this morning, you turn to throw yourself into your work.  Stupid late night texts, you think.  You loved the idea of going out but you’d rather do so on a full night's sleep.  Oh well, you think, so be it.  You’ll just take a power nap at lunch or something.

But by the end of the day, no naps were taken due to how busy you were.  It was fine though, since it was Friday and worst case, you could leave early if you were truly not feeling it.  Making your way to the elevators, you wave at your coworkers as they catch up to you.  Not far behind is a familiar, unwelcome face and you groan to yourself.  

“Yeosang!” one of the women calls out and he gives her a nod as he joins you all.  “Where to?” he asks and you realize he is also one of the new people coming along.  Wrinkling your nose, you just turn to your other coworkers.  Noticing Minseok smiling at you, you eagerly make some small talk with him and a few others as you all get onto the elevator.  

“It’s so nice having you around, Y/n.  Are you enjoying your work?” Minseok asks and you nod eagerly, launching into small talk about some of the research you’d been doing.  It definitely wasn’t distracting you hearing how kind and sweet Yeosang was to the ladies surrounding him, fawning over him.  Absolutely not interested in his easy smile and how handsome he looked when he wasn’t sneering.  You glance away as he catches your eye, rushing off the lift as the doors open.  

Despite your fatigue, you’d found yourself looking forward to the social event this evening.  You were looking forward to getting to know your coworkers better, to letting loose a little.  To enjoy your new employment like everyone else, doing the normal things adults in the real world did.  Simple, easy, fun.  

What you didn’t look forward to was spending the evening with your old enemy sending looks your way, his expression changing to annoyance or irritation as his eyes met yours.  Only to melt into enjoyment as he looked at others.  It bothers me how much it bothers me, you think angrily.  

This is how you find yourself, eagerly accepting drinks, shots, stumbling your way with the group from place to place, a blur of loud happy voices, singing silly songs and hugging people.  How you found yourself in the arms of Minseok as he holds you up, brushing your hair back.  How Minseok’s face oddly looks like Yeosang’s.  “Minseok…how’d your voice get so deep?” you murmur, your head resting on his chest.  

“You’re annoying.” you hear and you huff, smacking the chest the voice came out of.  “You can’t even get my name right.” the deep rumble says and your head tips back to look into the dark eyes of a man who is definitely not Minseok.  Into the intense brown eyes of a man you’ve hated for years.  “Asshole. I hate you.” you say, poking at his cheek.  “I hate you, too.” he bites out, stumbling with you in his arms.  Somehow you were both on the side of a building, and his back was to a wall.  

Suddenly, you're the one with your back against the bricks and he’s leaning over you, staring down at you.  “You’re drunk,” you say, squinting at him.  “You must be….you’re not glaring…” you murmur, your hand running over the intense face looking down at you.  “Fuck you,” he breathes out, and you tip your head back, your thumb running over his bottom lip.  “Fuck you right back,” you hiss, then his mouth is on yours.  

This is definitely not how your life was supposed to be, your mind rails at you even as you find yourself giving in to your buried emotions.  

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.” 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes. 

And then your grandparents decided to retire. 

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time. 

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres. 

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later. 

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. 

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty. 

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh. 

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked. 

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable. 

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave. 

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention. 

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear. 

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops. 

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself. 

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives. 

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope. 

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again. 

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby. 

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years? 

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good. 

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate. 

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache. 

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. 

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog. 

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought. 

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now. 

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore. 

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other. 

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency. 

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening. 

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else. 

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance. 

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet. 

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath. 

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.” 

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…” 

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague. 

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong. 

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects. 

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage. 

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine. 

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air. 

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own. 

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own. 

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have. 

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric. 

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse. 

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain. 

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal. 

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen. 

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself. 

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple. 

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there. 

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide. 

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool. 

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now. 

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” 

“‘You turn me on.’” 

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad. 

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?” 

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs. 

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it. 

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?” 

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it. 

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him. 

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release. 

I saw the way he was looking at you. 

I saw how you were looking at him, too. 

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho. 

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it. 

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place. 

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work. 

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to. 

And then you came here. 

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same. 

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role. 

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go. 

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” 

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches. 

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?” 

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters. 

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away. 

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else. 

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different. 

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you. 

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you. 

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop. 

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry. 

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top. 

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him. 

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief. 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special. 

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there. 

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets. 

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it. 

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure. 

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now. 

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own. 

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper. 

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more. 

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat. 

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second. 

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again. 

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way. 

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand. 

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble. 

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams. 

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core. 

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips. 

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off. 

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force. 

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider. 

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth. 

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies. 

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts. 

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.” 

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below. 

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him. 

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created. 

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter. 

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day. 

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying-ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and running out of the cabin.

Seonghwa and your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare and a ‘don’t follow me.’ from you. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering ‘do something’, encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright. “San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been in there the entire time. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked the back of his hair in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth of risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in warm, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby, mine to eat, mine to fuck, mine to fill, huh?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pusling hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins popping out of his hands when he gripped your thighs. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Not until I fill you up again.”

“That’s my boy,” you replied, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the warm fire crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the warm blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, his protective walls completely melted away much like the snowfall outside would be once the sun came out the following morning, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt warm. Safe. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

You zip your last bag, trying to gather some kind of overview. Your main luggage bags and two smaller bags filled to the brim. You made sure to pack thoroughly. It would be dreadful to forget something important while staying in the mountains, with the possibility of being snowed in.

A quick buzzing sound came from your phone, your hands grabbing it from your back pocket. You don’t even realize the deep sigh escaping between your lips as you read the name on the screen, somehow you hear the annoyance in the simple text.

Seonghwa i’m here

You type back, wanting him to elaborate.

You at the main entrance?

Seonghwa no i’m on top of the building i just landed my helicopter

yes i’m at the main entrance

You 2 minutes

You roll your eyes as you throw your phone on the bed, looking around your apartment for the last few things to pack. The next few hours are gonna be horrific, being squeezed in your car with the human version of a headache. 

Park Seonghwa.

Despite the two of you not being able to get along, your families do, and they use every possible opportunity to do things together. The annual cottage trip to the mountains for Christmas is no exception. His dad and his sister are all very nice people, watching over you like your own family. His mom was also the kindest woman you’ve ever known, but she sadly passed away six years ago due to sickness. When you were kids, everyone got along just fine. Not the best, because you still thought Seonghwa was teasing you a lot, but it was still manageable. But after his mom’s passing, your relationship with Seonghwa got even worse. 

You never spoke to him about her, because you were simply not that close, but that just resulted in you and him not getting along at all. He got more snarky, which resulted in you getting more snarky.. And now whenever you two spoke, it was always with a hint of teasing and/or mockering. 

You jug to the door as a knock echoes through your apartment, and you open up to see Seonghwa looking unsatisfied on the other side. You can already hear him complain about having to walk up a few sets of stairs, so you turn around before he opens his mouth.

“I’ll be ready in a second.” You say as you walk away, hearing him close the front door as he enters your apartment. 

“Take your time, it’s not like we’re the only ones who aren’t there yet.” Seonghwa mumbles sarcastically, loud enough for you to hear and you bite your tongue before something slips out.

You try your best to carry most of your bags to the front door where Seonghwa is waiting, arms crossed over his chest. He’s still wearing his boots and bomber jacket, not showing any signs that he’s willing to help you carry your stuff. His hair is annoyingly perfectly set, despite it being 7 in the morning like he had all the time in the world to get dressed.

“You know we’ll only be gone for two weeks, not a year, right?” He asks as you put down the bags on the floor in front of him. 

“Seonghwa, it’s 7 in the morning. Can you at least wait until the sun is up to be a pain in my ass? How are you awake right now?” You can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth when you glance at him. 

“I’m an insomniac, this is normal.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You’re not in the mood to continue the conversation so you go back for the last bag, carry it to the front door and Seonghwa (thankfully) helps you carry the bags down the stairs and to your car. His luggage is waiting in the lobby, he probably didn't want to carry it to your floor after traveling with it to your apartment building. 

Both of your families left for the cottage yesterday, but you and Seonghwa had to wait a day to travel because of busy schedules, and at the end of the day, it was just easier to travel together. You and Seonghwa agreed to take your car to the cottage, so you walk outside where your car is parked, and Seonghwa lunges your bags into the trunk.

“Holy shit, what did you put in this bag? A dead body?” He complains and you throw in your bags in the backseat. You open the door to the driver's seat, but look back at him as he loads the trunk.

“If we’re gonna make it through this trip, you have to stop being ironic in every sentence.” You get in the car and turn it on, hurrying to heat up the vehicle. Fog leaves your mouth as you speak, and you rub your hands to create some warmth.

“Fine,” Seonghwa simply answers before closing the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat where you are sitting. “Get out.” He looks down at you with the unreadable expression he always wears, and you scoff.

“Out? It’s my car?” You state, almost like a question. 

“Yes, but I’m driving.”

“Give me one good reason”

“Well, it’s 7 in the morning and you’re not a morning person, your road rage gets 50 times worse in the morning, especially when the roads are slippery. So you should take this as me doing you a favor. Now move.” Seonghwa cocks his head towards the passenger seat, confidently standing in the door to the driver’s seat, leaning up against the car. His face is hard to read, but every word he spoke had a truth behind it. Despite you and him not getting along, you’ve grown up close together, resulting in you knowing almost everything about each other.

A deep sigh leaves you as you step out of the car, not wanting to admit how he’s right.

“You have a lot of nerve talking like you’re the one owning this car.” You say as you enter the passenger seat, getting comfortable. 

“I just want you to be my passenger princess, is that too much to ask?” Seonghwa sends you a smirk before driving the car away from your apartment complex, and you’re headed to the cottage where both of your families are waiting for your arrival. 

A couple moments in silence pass, and the city starts to wake up as the sun brightens up your surroundings. Generic Christmas music plays on the car radio, a channel that has played ‘Last Christmas’ and ‘All I Want For Christmas’ nonstop since the middle of November. 

“Is your sister coming?” You ask, looking out of the window to your side. 

“Not this year. Her boyfriend offered her to celebrate Christmas with his family.” Seonghwa’s focus stays on the road as he answers.

Seonghwa’s sister is two years older than him, but you and her have always gotten along well. One of your fondest memories with her was when you were kids and forced Seonghwa into their mother’s clothes, and you and his sister used him as a canvas to test your makeup skills. That was the time when everything was fun and everyone got (somewhat) along. 

Not like now.

“Have you gotten better at skiing or do we get that atrocious fall again?” His voice has a tease to it as he glances over at you beside him. 

“It was a year ago, and it wasn't my fault.. I’ve gotten better.” You sound confident as you look over at Seonghwa who has an eyebrow raised suspectfully. On your last trip to the cottage with the Parks, you fell while skiing, which resulted in you being unable to walk for the rest of the trip. You promised yourself to never let that happen again.

“Oh yeah? You’ve been practicing?” He has a smug smile on his lips as he talks. 

“I’m better than you, we both know that.” A smile creeps up on your lips, doing your best to annoy him. A scoff leaves Seonghwa before he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and you know you said the right thing.

“That almost sounds like a bet.” He says.

“And what if it is?” You ask daringly, up for a challenge. 

Yes, you and Seonghwa knew how to bicker, but what could make you both excited was a competition. Anything from board games to extreme sports, you love competing with each other. Or hate it. Love to hate it.

Seonghwa smiles with his annoyingly straight teeth, looking over at you for a second to see if you’re serious, before nodding. “Then I hope you’re okay with losing,” He answers confidently. “What’s the challenge?”

“Who gets down the slope first. Easy.” You shrug.

“What color are we talking?”

“Black, of course.” You try to read his expression, challenging him to ride the most dangerous hill on the mountain. 

“Black? You remember the black slope on the mountain, don’t you? You wanna race down from that?” There’s something unsure about his voice, but it only makes you want to continue going through with this bet.

“Are you scared?” You tease, looking at him with a smile. Knowing Seonghwa your entire life, you know exactly what buttons to press to get your way, and when a confident chuckle leaves his body, you know this bet is on.

“Alright, sunshine, let’s do this.” He smirks, looking at you briefly.

“Anything you wanna bet?” You ask, trying to hide your excitement that he fell into your trap and agreed to this.

Seonghwa takes a few seconds to think, tapping the steering wheel before he speaks. “The loser will do what the winner says for an entire day.” He suggests. 

Somehow you expected this penalty, so you roll your eyes as a scoff leaves you. “Boring, but fine,” You say before looking over at him. “I can’t wait to make you my little puppy.” A huge smile decorates your lips at the thought of Seonghwa in the palm of your hand for 24 hours.

He has a big smile on his lips as he leans back in the driver's seat, getting comfortable. 

“Keep telling yourself that, sunshine. I already have some things in store for you.” He doesn’t even look at you while talking, but he’s wearing his confident smirk as he speaks like he’s imagining what he’ll make you do if he wins. 

You can’t wait to remove that cocky smile.

***

After a few hours of driving, you finally arrived at the cottage. There had been a delay due to some accidents on the road. The further you made it to the mountains, the slippier the roads got, resulting in a few accidents. Luckily, there were no big accidents, and you and Seonghwa made it safely to the cottage.

Your family greeted you, as well as Seonghwa’s dad.

As you mom helps you take off your jacket, she sends you the warmest smile and tells you that your room is on the first floor, which you will be sharing with Seonghwa.

“Thanks, mom.” You send her a smile back and look around the cottage. It looks the same as always. The fireplace is heating up the entire living room, and Christmas stockings for each person hanging over it, including Seonghwa’s sister and mom. There’s a smell of cinnamon hanging in the air as you grab your stuff and head upstairs to unpack. The long hallway with three doors leads you to your room, and you know your room is at the end of the hallway. You pass the closed door to Seonghwa’s room and a bathroom, already excited to have a shower in the huge shower stall. 

As you step into your room, you notice that it has the same warm tones as the rest of the house, giving off a cozy feeling. The room is furnished with a massive bed, and at the end of the room, there is a large window that provides a breathtaking view of the mountains. On the bedside table, there is a lit-up candle, adding to the room's warm and inviting atmosphere.

You throw yourself on the bed, happy to finally be at the cottage. 

This is gonna be a good trip.. hopefully

***

“Last chance to back down, sunshine.” Seonghwa looks at the slope in front of him before looking at you. A confident smile spreads on your lips, knowing you’ll win this one.

“Over my dead body, Seonghwa. I’m so excited to have you wrapped around my finger for a day.” 

It was your first official day at the cottage, and of course you and Seonghwa had to settle your little bet, trying to figure out who was best down the mountain.

“You’re a lot of talk, no bite. Let’s see how your mouth runs when you’re going to be my servant for an entire day.” He sends you a smirk. Your eyes roll back, used to these comments.

“You always claim to be a gentleman. Is this how you normally speak to girls? No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“They wouldn’t be able to handle me. Only you can.” The smirk is still evident on his lips. “Besides, I am a gentleman. In fact, I’ll even let you get 10 seconds as a head start.”

You try to read his face to see if he’s kidding, but when it looks like he means what he says, you scoff. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I never regret anything when it comes to you.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes for a long second, and this only make you more excited. You love winning. Even better when you win over him. 

“I’ll see you down there.” You send him one last smile before making your way down the mountain. You use your poles to help increase the speed, using every opportunity to get down the mountain first. 

10 seconds isn’t a lot, but if you use them well, this win would be even easier. Wind rushes in your ears, snow flying as you go side to side down the slope. You don’t look back, not wanting to focus on Seonghwa behind you, so you stay in your own head, doing your best to come down as fast as possible. 

You feel your legs burn in the best way, having missed this feeling.

The feeling of being free and no one telling you to stop. The wind blows faster as you move quicker down the slope, following the trail. Suddenly, you see a figure, and lo and behold, Seonghwa is next to you. You can’t see his face due to his helmet, but you bet he's sending you a smile behind the glass. He sends you a wave before he passes you on his snowboard, and suddenly he’s in the front. 

Your poles help you increase the speed even more, and you bend your knees to go even faster. Further down, you start to see the finish, and despite being behind Seonghwa, you still have a chance. He moves quick and even manages to be slightly daring on the way down, but you can take him.

You’re sure of it.

Well, that’s until a kid suddenly falls in front of you, and you quickly have to make your way around them. You make a turn, a little too sharp, and pass the kid lying in the snow. The last thing you see is Seonghwa reaching the bottom of the slope before you fall forward and roll a few meters in the snow. Confused, you lay still for a few moments, trying to gather what just happened. All you see is white from the snow until a figure comes into sight.

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa’s concerned voice suddenly speaks, and you look up to see him hurry to you. You try to move, realizing you’ve somehow lost both of your skis in your fall.

“I’m fine, ow.” A sharp pain shocks through your leg, starting from your ankle. The pain is enough to suddenly send a stinging feeling in your eyes, tears slowly forming. 

“Is this how you make me feel bad for winning?” Seonghwa tries to help you up from the snow, grabbing you under your arms.

“It doesn’t count, I fell. We should try again to see- OW!” 

Another sharp pain shocks you, even worse than before, and you give up trying to get up this way. You sit up, no visible injuries, only the pain in your ankle. 

“Can you stand up?” He asks, looking down at you. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Get on my back.” Seonghwa moves in front of you, kneeling down so you can jump on his back. You shake your head, not wanting to admit how bad your ankle hurts.

“No, it’s fine.” You try to stand up, but wince when the pain only gets worse.

“Can you stop being stubborn and let me help you? Get on my back.” His voice is serious, and it’s clear you won’t get it your way. You do your best to get on his back without putting too much pressure on your leg, and he stands up with you. He holds you under your knees while your arms hold around his neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah..”

He manages to get you to a bench, and after a few moments of him checking up on you, looking for any visible damages, it’s clear that the pain in your ankle is getting worse. You (or more like Seonghwa) make the decision not to ski anymore, so he ends up carrying you to the cottage. 

You feel grateful on Seonghwa’s behalf that it’s close to the ski resort so he won’t have to carry you too far. Both of you still in your ski clothing, you know everything is heavier than normal. 

And despite you telling him that it’s fine and that you can call for someone else to help you, he acts like he doesn’t hear you and continues to carry you home. 

Not a word is said between you, he makes his way inside the cottage with you on his back. He helps you out of your jacket and ski pants, so you’re left with your long-sleeved shirt and leggings. He quickly takes off his own ski clothing before suddenly carrying you bridal style, making his way to the stairs. 

Your arm encircles his neck as he carefully walks up the stairs, ensuring your foot doesn't touch anything.

“You don’t have to do this.” You almost whisper.

“I know.” He responds, seeing the door to your room. He walks in and puts you on the bed softly. You wince when you move your ankle, and Seonghwa notices immediately. “Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle, and down to the heel.” You point exactly where it hurts, and he looks at your foot before grabbing his phone from his pocket.

“I’ll be right back,” Is the only thing he says before he makes his way out of your room and you hear him walk down the stairs. You have no idea what he’s doing or what you’re waiting for. You just use this moment to be thankful that you didn’t get hurt anywhere else.

After a few minutes, you hear Seonghwa’s voice get closer as he makes his way up the stairs. You hear him talking on the phone.

“Yes.. Alright. No, it looks a little swollen. Okay, thank you.” He appears at your door with some ice in a towel and walks closer to your bed. He sits down by your legs and places the ice on your ankle. “Here, keep this on for 15 minutes and then off for 15 minutes. Then repeat as much as possible.” 

“Who’d you talk to?” You ask.

“I called the local doctor. If it gets worse you have to do a checkup, but for now, you just have to rest. Try not to walk on your foot, so call for me if you need anything.” He looks at you briefly before standing up. You’ve never seen this side of Seonghwa before, and having him take care of you like this, is making you feel something strange in your stomach. 

You look up at him from the bed, not knowing what to say. “Thank you.” You barely whisper.

He sends you a quick and awkward smile before he turns around and walks out of your room. He closes the door behind him, and you realize you’re stuck in bed after a fall, just like last year. You sigh, annoyed that this happened, but there isn’t much you can do about it. 

Laying in your bed, you suddenly feel your eyes getting heavier. It isn’t like you have anywhere else to go, so you use this opportunity to close your eyes and take a nap. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you allow yourself to sleep until you wake up.

***

It’s still bright outside when your eyes open, but when you look at the clock on your nightstand, you realize that you’ve been sleeping for a few hours. You don’t hear a sound from the rest of the house, and you wonder if Seonghwa left or if he’s asleep as well.

There’s still a sharp pain in your ankle, the ice has melted a bit. You sigh and look around the room. There isn't much to do when you’re stuck here. But the dryness in your mouth tempts you to leave your bed and get something to drink.

You know Seonghwa said to call for him if you needed anything, but a quick run to the kitchen couldn’t cause any more damage to your ankle, right? Besides, maybe he’s sleeping, and you don’t want to wake him up.

You manage to get out of bed, limping down the silent hallway. Thankful for the staircase, it helps you take it slow and hold you as you make your way down the stairs. It does hurt when you put pressure on it, but not as much as the fall last year. 

Finally, you make your way to the kitchen. It’s a little cold down here, so you want to prepare something hot. Drinking hot drinks after skiing reminds you of when you were younger. The feeling of the warmth running through your body and-

“What part of ‘call me if you need anything’ didn’t you understand?” Seonghwa’s voice makes you jump and you look behind you to see him enter the kitchen.

“I was just getting something to drink.” You mumble, standing by the cabinet to get a mug.

“You can’t walk on your foot.” He sounds like an annoyed dad as he finds a stool and places it by the kitchen island. He cocks his head towards the stool and you sit down on it. He’s showing a very bossy side of himself, and you’re not sure how to respond to it.

“I made it down here, didn’t I?” You mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears and sighs deeply.

“It’s not gonna heal if you walk,” He makes his way to the fridge and looks inside. “What do you want?”

“Hot cocoa.”

He looks back at you. “You couldn’t have said water?” His brow shoots up, looking slightly annoyed, but you shake your head.

“You asked what I want and I want hot cocoa.” Your voice is talking at a low volume, and you’re sure that if you were a dog, your ears would be hanging low and your tail would be between your legs. Seonghwa takes a second to think for himself, watching you before another sigh leaves him. 

“I guess I’m making you hot cocoa then.” He tilts his head to the side before grabbing a mug and finding the ingredients to make you some hot cocoa. You don’t say much as he prepares it, enjoying seeing him do something like this for you. 

“I thought since I lost our bet that I was being your servant for the day.” You tease, trying to fill the heavy air with some conversation.

“Well, that was before you decided to fall and make yourself useless,” He looks back at you and sends you a teasing smirk. “Besides, I’ll just save it for another day. Don’t think I’ll forget, sunshine.” 

You can't help but smile at his teasing. Usually, you want to rip his hair out, but right now, you're actually enjoying being in the same room as him.

He’s making your hot cocoa, and you feel slightly useless, sitting and staring at him. The couch is in your sight, so you step down from the stool, but as soon as your (healthy) foot touches the floor, Seonghwa’s eyes are on you. He stares at you as you freeze, scared you’ve done something wrong.

“What?” You ask. 

“Where are you going?” He’s quick to ask back.

“To the.. couch, if that’s okay with you?” 

Seonghwa doesn’t waste a second, dropping the tablespoon on the counter, taking you up bridal style again, and walking towards the couch.

“Seonghwa, you don’t have to do this,” You know saying it won’t make him stop. He’s as stubborn as you. He carefully puts you down on the couch, raising your leg so it rests on the extended part of the couch before he runs back to the kitchen. He appears a few seconds later with your hot cocoa in hand and places it on the table in front of you. “Thank you.”

“Anything else?” He asks, standing up in front of you. You look behind him at the TV, your eyes catching the remote lying on top of a shelf behind him.

“The remote..” You point.

He hands you the remote. “Alright.. If I see you walking by yourself again I’ll chain you to the couch, understood?” He looks you deep in the eyes, and for some reason, you almost think he’s serious. 

“Yes, sir.” You say teasingly, and he scoffs at you before disappearing again with a smile. 

A smile that looks dangerously good.

***

Every year you go out to have dinner at the fancy restaurant in the city close to the cottage. But due to your little stunt on the mountain yesterday, you all had to go for dinner today, as you couldn’t possibly use your foot. But it’s already getting better, and it isn’t as swollen as yesterday, so you felt even more ready for a nice evening out.

Maybe all the carrying from Seonghwa did help after all.

It’s also a fun excuse to dress up for a night and eat delicious food, so you remembered to pack the fancy dress you bought for this special occasion. A maroon-colored dress with a bare back, dropped shoulders and it hugs your body perfectly, ending on the middle of your thighs. You look in the mirror one last time before making your way downstairs to the others. It’s fun to see your parents in their fancy attire, looking like they just fell in love with each other again. 

You smile to yourself as you look around and immediately notice a set of eyes staring you down.

Seonghwa is leaning against the back of one of the couches, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as his gaze falls on you. You can't help but smirk in response. His eyes meet yours, and you can't resist glancing down at his attire.

He is in his black blazer with black pants, but instead of a regular button-down underneath, he is wearing something a runway model would wear. A white silk shirt with ruffles and lace is showing under his jacket, and no part of you is surprised by his choice of clothes. Whenever he can wear something a little different, he will, and he always pulls it off. 

Is he the biggest pain in the ass? Absolutely. 

Is he also very attractive? Oh, absolutely.

It’s actually irritating how beautiful this man is, but no way in hell you would ever tell him that. He knows he looks good, no need to boost his ego.

You decide to look away from him before you make yourself too obvious, as you get the sense that it’s time to leave soon. You decide to wait outside by the door as you’re waiting for the two families to leave. Suddenly, a presence is standing next to you, but you don’t need to look to see who joined you.

“Like what you’re seeing?” You ask teasingly, not even sparing him a glance.

“You look like my dream girl.” Seonghwa says confidently as he steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes.

His tall frame takes up most of the space in your sight, and you look up to meet his dark eyes. For some unknown reason you feel your heart beating faster, and it only increases when he puts some hair behind your ear.

“Really?” You manage to get out.

“I never said what kind of dream,” he says, slowly leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’re my fucking nightmare.”

Seonghwa leans back to send you a wink along with a smirk before turning around to walk away and enter one of the cars waiting outside, leaving you behind, baffled. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous he is, mentally cursing yourself for showing a slight reaction to his words. You brush off the feeling inside you and you enter another car waiting outside to take you to the restaurant in the city. 

You all drive for a few minutes, each family in each car, before entering the city with Christmas lights hanging everywhere. The restaurant is also decorated outside with lights, a group of Christmas carols singing on the other side of the street. 

It’s not like you’re from a rich family that goes to expensive restaurants a lot, but this was a tradition you’ve always shared with the Parks, so you would of course do it again this year. 

A male waiter follows you to your table, and you notice it’s a rather busy night, not seeing a single empty table. Christmas lights are decorating the ceiling, as well as generic Christmas instrumentals fill the air. A table for five comes into view with lit-up candles, and you find your way to the end. Your parents are busy talking with Seonghwa’s dad, laughing at something that happened before you arrived earlier today, leaving you in your own world. The waiter hands out a menu for you, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on you for a few seconds, his dimples showing when you make eye contact. You can’t help but smile back at his warm eyes, feeling the heat in your cheeks. He disappears again after having handed out the menus to the rest of the table, and you look across the table by chance and notice how Seonghwa’s eyes are staring at you. 

Something you can’t read is evident in his gaze, but you choose to quickly shoot your eyes to the menu. For some unknown reason, Seonghwa is making looking at him harder than usual, and you can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. 

A few moments pass, and the waiter comes back to take everyone's orders. He saves you for last, sending you a warm smile.

“And what can I get for you, miss?” His dimples even show when he’s talking. 

“I’m torn between the smoked salmon and the scallops.. Do you have a recommendation?” You send him a smile.

“Ohh, that’s a tough one.. Personally, I would be in for salmon, so that would be my choice. But that depends on you, of course.” He smirks, trying to continue the casual talk between you. You’re too lost in your conversation with him, figuring out what to eat, to realize the piercing eyes across from you. Seonghwa’s eyes shoot between you and the waiter, for some reason feeling annoyed with him. 

You end up choosing the smoked salmon, and handing him back the menu. A wink is sent in your direction before he makes his way to the kitchen. Casual talk then spreads across the table. Mr. Park looks in your direction, wanting to hear how you’ve been doing since the last time you spoke.

“I’ve been doing very well, Mr. Park, thank you for asking.” You respond to the kind man across the table.

“That’s good! And you’re still enjoying your job?” 

"Definitely. It is a bit far away though, so my car is very necessary. But it is having a hard time driving, especially in the winter months, so I’m considering saving up for a new car or finding a job a bit closer.” You answer, your parents adding to the conversation and carrying it on. 

“Maybe you should ask the waiter what he thinks you should do.” Seonghwa says across from you, low enough not to cause any attention to him from the rest of the table, but you hear him loud and clear. 

Your eyes glare at him, but he only responds with an annoying smile. You roll your eyes, trying to focus on the conversation between your parents. 

A few moments later your food arrives, and the salmon is placed in front of you. You all start eating, and you do your best to ignore the eyes looking at you from time to time across the table. 

Giving him attention will only make it worse, you think.

“How are you enjoying the salmon, miss?” A voice speaks behind you, and you look up to see the waiter sending you another smile. Cheeks heating up again, you do your best to answer confidently. 

“It’s really good, definitely the right decision.” 

“I’m glad, personally it’s my favorite item on the menu.” He tells you.

“I totally understand why, the greens on the side really complement it as well.” You add to the conversation. The kind waiter is about to answer when a voice interrupts.

“Waiter?” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through, stealing your attention. “I ordered my steak to be medium-well, this steak is cooked medium-rare.” He points at his food, eying the waiter.

An apologetic expression spreads on the waiter's face. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll take it back to the kitchen for you.” He sends Seonghwa the best smile he can manage, before disappearing into the kitchen with Seonghwa’s food.

“Why did you do that?” Your eyes are locked on Seonghwa, trying to speak in a low voice so you won’t draw attention.

“I just want what I ordered.” Seonghwa shrugs before bringing his wine glass to his lips. 

“There’s no need to be an ass about it.” 

A smirk tugs on Seonghwa’s lips. “Aww, I’m sorry.. Am I making it hard for your boyfriend?”

“What is wrong with you?”

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Would it kill you to see me be just a little happy?"

A scoff leaves his mouth. “Welcome to the real world. Maybe you’ll notice how everything isn’t perfect, sunshine.”

You want to reach across the table and rip that annoying smile off his face. Everything inside of you is boiling, even looking at him is making you feel insane. It takes everything in you not to say something rude because you’re all adults here (even if some aren't acting like it) and you want this trip to have good memories. 

You grab your wine glass and gulp down the last bit before heading to the bathrooms. 5 minutes away from Seonghwa would be enough not to scream at him. 

Luckily it isn’t filled with people in the bathroom, letting you get some time to breathe for yourself. 

You knew Seonghwa had gone through a hard time the last few years since his mom died, so you somehow always had an apology for him in your head, why he was acting like he was. But he was going personal tonight, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t an excuse to be an asshole. 

You saw the rage in your eyes as you looked at yourself, but suddenly, your attention was stolen by the door opening to the bathroom. Seonghwa’s large frame entered the room, your eyes rolling at the sight of him.

“Did I say something to trigger you?” He spoke in a low voice.

“You do that all the time, Seonghwa. Don’t act like this is any different.” You didn’t spare him a glance as you spoke, keeping your eyes on yourself in the mirror.

“You haven’t walked away like that since I said your hair looked as fried as a burnt fry at McDonald's.” He calls back to a moment a few years ago when you were also fed up with his teasing. It wasn’t even that deep of a comment, you were just not feeling it that day.

“I guess I’m not in the mood for this right now.” You respond with a lower voice. Through the mirror, you look to see if any of the stalls are taken and if anyone is listening to your conversation. It doesn’t look like it. “Also, you’re in the women's bathroom. You can’t be here.”

“Well, I upset you and wanted to talk it out.”

A part of you wants to laugh. Never have those words left his mouth.

“How mature of you.”

“I’m sorry.” His footsteps are coming closer to you, and suddenly you see him in the mirror behind you. He actually sounds like he’s apologizing, and not saying this mockingly. It catches you off guard for a few seconds, but you make eye contact with him through the mirror. He’s watching you carefully like he’s afraid to say something else to upset you.

“Didn’t think you were capable of apologizing.” You want to joke, but the air between you is too heavy.

“Maybe you’ll learn some new things about me on this trip.” He says with his hands resting in the front pockets of his pants. 

“Maybe.” You shrug, finally turning around towards him. “If anything, you should apologize to the waiter.” You can’t help but feel sorry for the waiter, having to run around because of Seonghwa.

“I don’t care about the waiter.” His voice is cold.

“And you care about me?” You say with a laugh, expecting him to say ‘no’ immediately, but when silence surrounds the two of you, you suddenly don’t know what to say. His eyes are just watching you, studying your face and it makes you feel a certain way you haven’t felt before. A feeling you can't pinpoint what is. 

“You know what this dress needs?” He suddenly says, completely changing the subject.

“What?”

“A necklace.” He looks down on your bare neck. 

You know this dress calls for a necklace, and you mentally cursed at yourself when you realized you had left your bag of jewelry on your desk. Luckily, that is the only thing you’ve forgotten (hopefully).

“I forgot all of my jewelry at home.” You shrug.

His eyes focus on your neck for a short moment before he reaches behind his own neck. Suddenly, a necklace you didn’t know he was wearing came into sight and he held it out in front of him. A silver necklace with white pearl pendants.

“Turn around.”

You shake your head. “I’m not wearing your-”

“Turn around.” He says more firmly, and you do as he says. Your eyes focus on your neck as he places the necklace on you, and you immediately notice how well it compliments your dress. Seonghwa’s warm fingers lightly touch the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This feels incredibly intimate, especially because you notice the way his eyes roam over you.

“It was my mothers.” Seonghwa says in almost a whisper, eyes still locked on your neck through the mirror. Your breath hitches, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t be wearing this.

“Seonghwa.. I can’t wear this.” Your fingers touch the pendant. 

“I know she would’ve loved to see you in it.” A small smile tugs on his lips, obviously thinking about his mom. You don’t know what to say. His mom was the nicest woman you’ve ever met, and you do miss her dearly. You can’t even imagine how Seonghwa feels. “She really liked you, you know.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours through the mirror. 

“I liked her too.” You send him a smile, remembering all the good times you've shared with her.

“And I know she would've chopped my hands off if she knew I made you upset. So I’m genuinely sorry.” He looks apologetic, not an ounce of teasing evident in his voice. You’ve never shared a moment like this with him, and if you were close, you would’ve hugged him and told him everything was okay. But you can’t remember the last time you shared affection with him, so you just try your best to send him a smile through the mirror.

“Thank you.” Your voice is a whisper, and he steps closer to you to remove some hair on your shoulder. This makes the necklace more apparent on your neck, and you smile at the view. “It’s beautiful.”

You just now notice how close you are to him, slightly feeling his front against your bare back. He has a perfect height when he stands next to you, and even more when he stands behind you like now. 

His eyes are all over you through the mirror, and the feeling is not something you ever expected to feel so exciting. You can’t help but look back at him, seeing how good his suit looks on him. You stare at the shirt he’s wearing under his jacket, and in this light, you notice that it’s made of sheer fabric, making it slightly see-through. 

You hate how much you’re staring, but you can’t help it. And when he’s staring back at you, the same look in his eyes, you know you’re in too deep.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and a lady stops at the door, looking confused as if she didn't think she entered the right bathroom. Seonghwa looks at her and then back to you through the mirror.

“I better go.” He says above a whisper, looking down at you one last time before heading out of the bathroom. You don’t pay any attention to the lady entering, only focused on what just happened between you and Seonghwa. 

It takes you a moment to get back to your senses, but you eventually get there and head back to your table.

The rest of the dinner went differently. Every time you looked across the table, you'd meet Seonghwa's eyes. You'd both hold the gaze for longer than you'd anticipate, feeling heat in your cheeks before darting your eyes away from him.

You didn’t see much of the waiter for the rest of the night, Seonghwa probably scaring him away from your table. 

When you made it home to the cottage, you all started getting ready for bed. It was getting late, and you were getting tired as well. Coming up from the stairs, you walked towards your room, when suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you stop your tracks and look to see Seonghwa appear from his room. His eyes met yours in an instant, standing close to you.

“I apologized to the waiter. Happy?” He said with a low voice. He almost sounds defeated, like he lost an important battle, but you can’t help but enjoy it a little bit.

“I didn’t think you cared about him?” You said, finding it new that he’s apologizing.

“I don’t, not in the slightest. Couldn’t care less about what he’s feeling.” He shrugged, and you wanted to roll your eyes before he spoke again. “But I’m trying to do the right thing here. Even if I was just making him do his job, I could’ve been a little nicer. I’ll admit.” He kept the eye contact and the soft grasp around your wrist, making you focus on him.

A smile spreads on your lips. “Should I get used to this? You apologizing? Because I kinda like it.” You tease. He scoffs, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes as earlier. The one where he studies you to the smallest details, somehow making you nervous. 

“A little dangerous starting to like something that has to do with me, don’t you think?” He teases back, a smirk growing on his face. The dimmed light in the hallway makes everything seem slightly more intimate, and with the way you’re feeling when he’s looking at you like this, you know you have to keep your shit together. 

This is Park Seonghwa. 

Yes, he has helped you with your ankle and whatever.

But you’d never be able to actually get along. You’re built to argue with him. Tease, mock, pick on, just like he does with you. The two of you don’t know any better, but somehow, looking at him right now, you can’t do that. You don’t even know what to do, because you’ve never felt this way when looking at him. 

And it’s a brand new territory.

His free hand raises, and you do nothing but wait to see where it lands, when he suddenly traces his finger from your jaw and down to your neck. You feel the necklace move under his touch, suddenly reminded that you’re wearing it. 

“Oh, the necklace.” You put your hands behind your neck to take it off, but Seonghwa shakes his head, taking your hands down. 

“Let me.” He says, and you turn around, collecting your hair to one side. Waiting for him to take it off, you suddenly feel his hands on your waist, turning you slightly so he has better light. But the feeling of his hands on your waist makes your heart beat faster, leaving burning marks where his fingers touched. His fingers are on your skin as he removes the necklace sends shivers down your spine, and the necklace is gone. 

But Seonghwa notices the way you’re reacting to his touch, smiling to himself as you turn back around to face him. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” You smile.

“Always.” 

With one last look, you decide to go into your room, scared of what could happen if you stayed out there any longer. 

***

You took a deep breath as you sat down on the bench at the end of the ski slope. You took a moment to watch people coming down the mountain on their skis or snowboards while you enjoyed finally being out again.

You had looked forward to this, spending the entire day here. This was one of the main reasons you even visited this cottage every year. To ski and have fun.

What you didn’t expect was the intense pain.

In your ankle? no.

Or a little, but the pain was mostly in your stomach due to your period. 

You didn’t think it would be arriving while being on this trip, but of course, it had to arrive at this time. Therefore, you didn’t have anything prepared, other than a few emergency pads. But the pain you felt was actually the worst, making you have to take a break.

You look up to see a person get close at an awfully fast speed on their snowboard, making you think they’ll crash into you but they stop right in front of you, making snow splash everywhere. You don’t have to think twice to recognize Seonghwa’s attire in front of you.

“Asshole.” You mumble as Seonghwa takes off his helmet, smiling at his own little stunt.

“You okay?” He asks, noticing the slight discomfort on your face.

“Yeah, it’s just… my ankle.” You lie. You didn’t feel like sharing with Seonghwa what was really hurting you. And your ankle did hurt a bit, so it wasn’t a complete lie. But it was definitely mostly the pain in your stomach that held you from being on the slopes right now.

“Is it getting worse?” Seonghwa asks, suddenly being back to being your doctor. 

“Yeah.” You respond, not exactly knowing what to say.

“Are you okay, honey?” Your mom suddenly appears in her ski attire, walking over to you and Seonghwa. 

“I’m fine.” You respond shortly.

“It’s her ankle.” Seonghwa says, making you want to throw a snowball in his face. Not only because it wasn’t the entire truth, but also because you know how much your mom is concerned about your ankle. You knew she wasn’t a fan of you being on the slopes already, scared that you might get as hurt as last year.

Your mom looks at you with worry. “Darling, you should take your time to heal.” She walks closer to you. “I don’t think skiing is a good idea..” Your mom doesn't hide the look on her face. You know she’s saying this with pure love, but you don’t know what else to do. This is what you came for. But she didn’t want you to get hurt, not any more than you already are.

“What else can I do?” You ask.

“You can drive to the city?” She sounds optimistic like it’s the funniest thing to do in an area filled with slopes and snow.

“To do what?” 

“I need some new ornaments for the tree. You can drive to the city and pick some for us.” She makes it sound like it’s the best idea ever. And you’ll admit; it was better than staying home while everyone else is out in the snow. 

“Fine..” 

“I’ll come with you.” Seonghwa suddenly adds to the conversation, and you and your mom both look at him.

“Are you sure?” Your mom asks, sounding slightly confused since she knows how you and Seonghwa never spend time together voluntarily. 

“Yeah, I’m getting a little sore from all the snowboarding, I could use a break,” He smiles at your mom. “Besides, with her luck, falling two years in a row, I think it’s a good idea to have someone keep an eye on her.” He smirks in your direction, but you only send back an obvious fake smile. 

Your mom’s face, on the other hand, lights up like a Christmas tree. It’s a tradition for your mom to get a new ornament for the Christmas tree every year, so you know this means more for her than it does for the rest of you. It was a tradition she shared with Seonghwa’s mom, but your mom continued it like she still had her best friend to do it with.

“Amazing! Can’t wait to see what you guys bring back.”

***

The trip to the city went as you’d expect. It wasn’t the best time of your life, but it was nice to finally be outside. You got to see the city in daylight, but it was definitely prettier in the nighttime with all the lights lighting up the sky. 

With Seonghwa’s help, you found seven ornaments - one for each of you. You picked one for yourself and your parents, while Seonghwa picked one for himself, his dad, his sister, and his mom. They were simple, the designs looking like they were supposed to be snowflakes, but they all looked different.

While Seonghwa paid for the ornaments, you looked at other Christmas decorations. There were all kinds of decorations, everything from the most elegant and minimalistic to the downright ugly. 

You stood with an elf in your hands, admiring how cute it was when another wave of pain suddenly hit your lower region. Despite living with it for years, you somehow never get used to it. You winced in pain, trying to keep a straight face when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Seonghwa sounded worried, but you just nodded. You put down the elf and put on your best smile.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

As he opens the door for you, he still looks worried. You make your way to your car, and he unlocks it. Just as you grab the handle, you're hit with another wave of pain. You hold yourself on the stomach, slightly leaning forward, hoping to ease the discomfort. You quickly try to ignore the feeling and get into the car.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seonghwa looks at you from the driver’s seat. “Are you sick? Is it your ankle?” The questions fly out of him like there’s no tomorrow, but you shake your head, not wanting to draw attention.

“No, no.. It’s fine. Just go.” 

“Do you need to pee? Are you hungry? Do you-”

“For the love of all great things, just drive, Seonghwa.” You don’t mean to make it sound rude, but the words left your mouth before you could even think.

Seonghwa responds with a deep sigh, before starting the car. “We need to get gas before we continue on, we’re running out.” 

Silence fills the air as he drives to a gas station not far away from the city. He gets out of the car and starts filling it up with the gas you need. A short moment goes by before he opens the door to reach for his wallet, but you stop him.

“I can pay for the gas.” You say, looking for your wallet in your bag. 

“It’s fine, I’ll pay. Wait here.” His voice is cold and you watch him as he makes his way into the gas station. You sigh to yourself, annoyed that you lash out without thinking, when in fact, Seonghwa was just being nice. He was probably just worried about your foot like he had been ever since you fell. He has never shown this amount of worry for you, so it did surprise you when he took so much care of you and volunteered to drive with you to the city. 

You’re too focused on your thoughts to notice Seonghwa coming back, and entering the car. You look at him but are suddenly surprised when a small white bag is placed on your lap. He turns on the engine and drives away from the gas station. 

Curious and confused, you look in the bag, and you can’t believe what you see. It’s filled with Advils, chocolate bars, juice, water, pads, and a package of menstrual cramp relief heating pads. 

You have no idea how to react. Emotions everywhere, you almost want to cry, but you don’t. You just look at him and stare at his side profile as he focuses on driving your car.

“Thank you..” You say with a low voice.

“You’re welcome.”

Another silence.

“How did you know?” You ask.

“I’ve grown up with a mom and an older sister. I’m very much aware of periods and that people with periods go through pain.” His voice is turning softer as he speaks, not as cold as before. You look into the bag again and grab the heating pads, not sure how to use them.

You’ve used your heating pillow for ages, but of course, forgot to bring it on the trip.

“They heat up and relax the muscles in your lower abdomen so you’ll be in less pain,” Seonghwa explains like he knows how to read your mind. “I’ve heard. I haven’t tried it for myself, for obvious reasons, but my sister always uses these.” His gaze shifts between the heating pads in your hands and the road.

“Thank you..” You say once again. You feel like you’re thanking him a lot on this trip. “And I’m sorry.” You look at him, feeling bad for snapping at him when he just wanted to know if you were okay. His eyes meet yours, and after a few seconds, he sends you a smile.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” 

The annoying smile of his sends a feeling to your stomach again. The same warm, strange feeling you also felt earlier with him this week. Your breath hitches from the feeling, and you shake your head to yourself.

It’s nothing.

Don’t think about it.

***

The day after, you decided to take things a bit slow. You wanted to join the others on the slopes, but your body was simply too worn out. But that didn’t stop you from spending time at the café, located at the bottom of the slope. You decided to bring a book as you sat in the corner, watching people enter from being up on the slopes. They were all in their ski attire, ready to conquer the slopes after getting something to drink. 

The door to the cozy cafe opened and you'd recognize that helmet anywhere. Seonghwa entered by himself, taking the helmet off his head as he walked to the desk to order. You saw his eyes roaming the café, so you decided to focus on your book, deciding to look busy. You only read a few lines before a voice caught your attention.

“Hey, sunshine,” Seonghwa’s voice said, placing his helmet on the other bench at your table. “What are you doing here?”

“Got bored at the cottage.” You shrug.

He took off his big jacket and placed it on one of your seats as well. “Mind if I join you here?” Seonghwa asks as he basically has already taken over half the space at your table.

“No, go ahead.” You answer before he goes back to the desk to order. Your eyes are about to scan the book again when a new voice interrupts.

“Excuse me..” The voice says, and you look up to see a girl around the same age as you. She looks sweet and pretty, and very innocent. “Sorry, but are you dating him?” She asks shyly while pointing at Seonghwa. 

“Uhm, no.” You shake your head, slightly confused.

“Do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

“I don't think so.” You explain, telling her the truth. You have no idea what his dating life is like, but you don't think he is.

“Oh, okay.. I just didn’t want to shoot my shot if you were his girlfriend.” She smiles, before excusing herself again. Your eyes watch as she approaches Seonghwa, but you’re unable to hear what is being said between them. All you see is Seonghwa suddenly darting his eyes at you as the girl is speaking, and you look back into your book. You’re not getting further with your book, because Seonghwa comes back not long after.

“Here.” He says as he places a mug of hot cocoa in front of you. He puts one down for himself as well before sitting down at the table. You don’t recall asking him to get you this, but the fact that he did it was nice.. or whatever.

“Thank you,” Your eyes scan the cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. “So.. Did you get her number?” You ask, eying him carefully to hear his response.

“What?” He responded like he didn’t just talk to a girl who was clearly interested in him.

“That girl.. She came to me and asked if you were dating anyone and wanted to shoot your shot with you. So?”

He shook his head, grabbing a spoon to scoop some whipped cream from his drink. “I didn’t get her number. I thanked her for the opportunity, but I’m not interested.”

You don’t know why but this makes you slightly confused. Everyone could tell that Seonghwa was a beautiful human being, and it’s not the first time you've seen someone attempt to flirt with him. This makes you realize that you don’t know anything about his relationships, hookups, or people he has crushed on in the past. He had never brought anyone with him as his partner, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. You’ve just never heard about them.

“Why? You have someone waiting at home?” You ask, feeling weirdly comfortable having this conversation.

“I don’t know, do I?” A smirk tugs on his lips before he brings the spoon with whipped cream to his mouth. Your brows shoot together, feeling confused. 

“How should I know?” You ask as you grab a spoonful of whipped cream as well. 

“I don’t know. But to answer your question; I’m not interested in anyone. As I’ve said before, you’re the only one that can handle me.” The smirk only grows on his face, and you know what he’s doing. 

It wasn’t new for Seonghwa to throw these kinds of comments your way, especially with a smirk evident on his face. He knows sending flirty remarks your way would make you uncomfortable (in the beginning), but you’ve gotten so used to it that you can’t help but laugh. It’s obvious that he only does it to be annoying, but a sarcastic laugh still finds its way out of you.

“Right, could you imagine? Us dating?” You joke.

“Would it be terrible?” He asks, teeth showing from smiling.

“We would rip off each other's heads within a week.” You answer confidently. 

“What would you do if we got married?”

“Divorce you.”

This makes him laugh, a sound that is so incredibly addicting that it’s annoying. Yet you can't help but smile.

“See that’s what I mean. Only you would say that.” Seonghwa argues like he’s actually serious about this topic.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same.” You roll your eyes, scooping another spoonful of whipped cream. You knew that if you and Seonghwa were married, it would probably turn into a competition of who could sign the divorce papers first. Yes, you and Seonghwa have gotten closer on this trip, and you’ll admit; he has been doing some very nice things to you. But you’re convinced he would never actually consider taking this a step further. You’re not his type, you know that. 

Seonghwa leans forward towards you, speaking in a volume that makes this seem like an important topic.

“Be honest with me, you couldn’t ever see us dating?”

The fact that he’s still talking about this, is making you question everything.

“I don’t know, is it important?” You shrug.

“It’s a simple question.” He leans his head slightly to the side, questioning you. 

“Could you see us dating?” You ask back.

“I asked you first.”

He leans back in his seat, waiting for your answer. The answer is simple, right? Yet you don’t know why you’re not spitting out a hard “no”. Instead, you’re taking your time, reading his body language, trying to figure out how to answer this the best way.

“I mean.. There’s a lot of things to take into consideration when talking about topics like that- what?” You ask in the middle of your sentence when you see a smile growing on his face like he’s entertained.

“Just answer yes or no.” 

“Then… No.” You finally answer.

“Why not?” 

Growing tired of him questioning you about this like it’s actually important, you release a deep sigh and close your book. “Because you’re a menace 92% of the time.” 

The topic is making your hands sweaty and your mouth dry for some unknown reason. You grab your hot cocoa after eating most of the whipped cream on top, blowing on the drink so you won’t burn yourself. 

“And the remaining 8%?” He asks, also taking his hot cocoa in his hands.

You scan his face for a moment, trying to figure out the best answer without boosting his ego too much. “You’re bearable.”

“I can work with that.” He shrugs with a smirk before taking a sip of his drink.

***

Seonghwa decided to join you on your way back to the cottage after drinking the hot cocoa. You don’t mind it, now having a feeling that you can actually have a normal conversation with him.

It’s a Christmas miracle. 

“Have you ever watched the Gringe? You two are like the same person.” Seonghwa enters the living room and throws himself on the couch next to you.

Nevermind.

You roll your eyes, not sparing him a glance. "Funny." You say. 

You fix the heating pad on your stomach, feeling the pain slowly fading away. He notices your hands on your stomach and the crumbled chocolate wrap next to you.

“You know, there’s another way to get rid of period pain.” He says, and you feel his eyes on you. 

"I can’t believe that I’m asking you, out of all people, but what?” You turn your head to look at him, and a smirk suddenly makes its way to his lips.

“Orgasms.”

You throw your head back along with a deep sigh. “You just had to, didn’t you? You just had to make it sexual?” Your reaction makes him laugh, a sound you’ve gotten awfully used to the last few days. 

“I’m being deadly serious, though. It’s scientifically proven.” He sits up more straight and turns to look at you. “It obviously doesn’t have to be done by a partner, you can do it by yourself. I’m just saying..” He ends it with a shrug and holds his hands up in defense.

“Well thank you, but no thank you.”

“Just thought I’d share my knowledge with you.. Also to let you know that I completely understand if the pain gets too much and you need to.. you know.” The smirk is evident in his voice, but you just send him a glare.

“I repeat.. Thank you, but no thank you.”

“Alright..” He lies down on the couch again and a silence surrounds you. You turn your head to look at him but are met with a smirk and you don’t have to think twice to know what he’s thinking about. 

“Seonghwa, I will knock you on your fat ass if you even think about it.”

Another laugh escapes him, and you can’t help but smile at the sound. “Alright, alright.. Sorry.”

Before you actually knock him out, your parents enter the cottage along with Seonghwa’s dad. Not even a minute goes by before your mom is in the living room, a huge smile on her face and eyes on you.

“Honey! You never guess what happened!” Her excitement steals both your and Seonghwa’s attention. “We were at the ski resort, and we met the waiter from dinner the other night!” She’s practically jumping and clapping, overly excited about this.

“Oh, really?” You say, slightly confused. You haven’t thought much about the waiter since the dinner. He was really cute and seemed to give you a new form of attention, but for some reason, your mind has been a little.. occupied the last few days.

“Yes, and he immediately recognized us and he asked for your number!” Her words almost make your eyes pop out of your skull.

“My number?” 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, but I saw the way he looked at you at dinner,” She wiggled her eyebrows, acting like the ultimate wingwoman. “Instead I asked for his on your behalf, then you can text him if you’d like. He said he would like to take you to dinner before we leave.” She handed you a napkin with a number and his name on it, and you looked at it for a few seconds, contemplating how you should feel.

“Oh.. Cool, thanks.”

You were happy, of course you were. A guy who looks incredibly cute is requesting to take you out to dinner. What’s not to like?

But for some reason, a teeny tiny piece of you don’t want this. But a dinner with him won’t hurt anyone, right? 

***

It’s been a few days since you got the waiter’s phone number. You made the decision to text him later that night, thanking him for being such a good waiter on the first night. The conversation then escalated to him inviting you to dinner the day after tomorrow, on the 23rd. A lot of thoughts roamed your mind, wondering if you should do it or not. He was really nice, and seemed like a good guy, so why weren’t you ecstatic about this?

You ended up saying yes, throwing yourself out there. It’s just a date. Besides, he probably lives in the area and you live a few hours away. Most likely, this won’t even work out, but a fun night out could be needed.

You’ve also had a nice few days, feeling extremely happy. Your period is over, your ankle is feeling better and everyone seems to be in a good mood. The other day, your mom even commented on the fact that you and Seonghwa aren’t bickering as much as you used to. You didn’t know what to say about that, quickly changing the topic of conversation.

It’s not like you had an answer to that, anyway. 

You walk down the stairs, about to head to the kitchen when something catches your eye. You stop in your tracks and look into the living room. All by himself, Seonghwa is standing next to the Christmas tree, looking at one specific ornament. Slowly, you make your way towards him, watching as his fingers trace the ornament.

“Hi.” You say in a low volume, trying not to startle him. He looks back at you, putting on his best smile, but you can tell something is roaming his mind.

“Hey.” His gaze returns to the ornament, and you quickly realize it’s the one he chose for his mom when you and him were shopping for Christmas ornaments. It’s elegant, simple, and definitely her style.

“It’s pretty.” You say, keeping your eyes on the snowflake.

“Yeah.. I feel like she would have chosen this one.” Seonghwa’s eyes still don't leave it, and he’s watching it with so much love. Like he’s actually looking at his mom.

“She did. Through you.” You look away from the ornament and turn to look at him. Even more love shines through his eyes, and you can’t stop looking at him. You can tell he is thinking about his mom and all she did for him - which was a lot. She was a wonderful mom who did anything for her kids. When Seonghwa was a kid, she never missed a football game, she supported him and his sister with everything and kept a smile on her face during anything. 

“She loved Christmas,” Seonghwa says, clearly thinking of memories with his mom. “She loved coming here to the cottage, celebrating the holidays with you and your family. It was when she was the happiest.” His gaze finally leaves the snowflake decorating the tree, looking to meet your eyes.

You can’t help but think of the memories with her either. “She defined Christmas for me. I remember when we were visiting you guys in the summertime, she would make us look through the photo albums of earlier Christmases.” You find yourself laughing with Seonghwa at the memory, clearly remembering how much she loves Christmas.

“Yeah.. she was really into making memories. She loved it,” His smile froze before it slowly fell again, something clearly replacing the happy thoughts. “Ironic, how that’s the only thing I have of her now.” Sadness appears in his voice, as his eyes go back to the ornament. 

“That’s not true, Seonghwa,” You shake your head, suddenly getting the urge to grab his hand, but you don’t. “You have all the pictures, you wear her necklace, and you have us. And I know she’s here with us. Do you really think she wouldn’t be here with you for Christmas? She would never do that.” You have to fight yourself not to have tears in your eyes, but it gets even harder when Seonghwa looks at you with glistening eyes. 

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath of air and looks up at the ceiling. He blinks a few times like he’s trying his best not to cry in front of you, but you somehow wish he would. You want him to know that it’s okay. That it’s okay to cry and miss her. Because you do too, and you can’t even imagine how much pain he feels every day, not being able to touch her. Talk to her. Be with her.

He releases his breath of air and looks back down at you. “Thank you.”

His eyes are still glistening, but it feels nice talking to him about this. You’ve never talked much about his mother’s passing, not being good at expressing emotions to one another. But this trip has opened up something for both of you, allowing you to talk about your feelings. 

Feeling slightly restless, you send him one last smile, before turning around. 

“Wait..” Seonghwa stops you before you manage to walk away, and you turn around as you wait for him to say something. His eyes flicker for a moment as he tries to figure out how to word the thoughts in his head. “I’m sorry.”

The apology came out of nowhere, making your brows shoot together in question.

“For?”

He takes another moment to collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting the last few..” He looks up to think but scoffs at himself. “The last few years, at this point.” He looks deep into your eyes, wanting you to know that he’s not messing around right now. “I’ve said some mean things and I’ve been way over the line and you didn’t deserve that. I guess after my mom passed, I held so much anger inside of me because I regretted so many things when it came to her. So instead of dealing with it in a healthy way, I took it out on you. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, honestly. Maybe it was because you reminded me of her with your kind personality and everything, and so it just made me angry that she wasn’t here..” He looked down between you, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“Either way, it doesn’t make it okay, and I’m really sorry if I’ve said some things to upset you.. Which I know I have, but I can’t remember all of them.” Seonghwa tries to send you a smile, but it ends up looking a little awkward. 

You didn’t expect this at all. Your mouth feels dry from this big apology, not knowing what to say. A part of you always sensed that his mother’s passing triggered something in him to make him angry with you, but you didn’t know why. And it seemed like he didn’t either, but you could tell that he was genuinely sorry. 

You send him a smile, not wanting him to feel bad anymore. 

“Thank you. And I’m sorry too if I’ve ever said something back in rage.” You apologize, knowing for sure that you’ve said some things to him that weren't very nice either.

“You don’t have to apologize, I probably deserved it.” Seonghwa tries to joke, forcing a smile. “I just don’t want my mom to be disappointed with me.”

Once again, your heart breaks for him. You know how much she meant to him.

“Seonghwa, your mom was an amazing and beautiful woman. She raised you and your sister to be good people, and you are. The two of us have not always gotten along the best, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t even be able to stand up right now, hadn’t you taken so much care of my ankle. You bought me a bunch of stuff to help me get through my period. Or last year when I fell on my skis and I couldn’t walk, I know you were the one who bought me my favorite brownies because no one knows I love them but you. Or three years ago when my car crashed, you drove me to the mechanic and when I had to pay a week later, you had paid for it and asked them to lie and tell me I had won some stupid competition that made it free.”

“Why do you think I paid for it?”

“I knew something was up so I asked for the details and they couldn’t lie anymore. I saw the payment. P.S.H written with your bank account number.” You explained, making his eyes flicker.

“Well.. You didn’t have a job at the time.” He started excusing, but it only proved your point further.

“Exactly. And that’s what I mean, Seonghwa. Your mom could never be disappointed with you, because even though the two of us weren’t even friends, you still helped me, and you help everyone around you. Your mom loves you, and I know she’s watching over you with nothing but care. She would be really proud of you.” 

This is what pushes Seonghwa over the edge. He looks away from you and a sob escapes him. For the first time, you see Seonghwa cry. Not even right after his mom passed did you see him cry. But now, you see tears cover his cheeks, despite him desperately trying to hide his face with his hands. 

Doing something you’ve never done, you take a few steps closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist to hug him. This is not about the past, how much you used to fight, or if you’re even friends. Right now, he’s crying because of the loss of his mother, and you need to be there for him.

You feel Seonghwa wrap his arms around you too, fully accepting this as he tries to control his sobs. Your head is pressed against his chest, and you’re able to hear his heart pounding fast. It’s a sound so intimate and it only makes you want to be closer to him. To hear him talk for hours about what is roaming his mind, no matter how emotional it might get.

You don’t know how long you’re hugging him, but his sobs quietly die down, and his heart starts to beat at a normal pace. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles in your embrace, and you pull back to see his eyes slightly red and puffy. You’re not ready to leave him yet, not wanting him to be alone.

“Are you busy?” You suddenly ask. He seems a little taken aback by your sudden question but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Do you want to watch ‘Home Alone’ with me?” You point to the TV, thinking this would be a good way to end the day. A smile creeps up on his lips, and he nods.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Everyone has gone to bed, and after spending what feels like hours being nervous about your date in two days, you decide to head to bed. After changing into your oversized nightshirt, you carefully make your way to the bathroom. You make sure not to make too much noise so you won’t wake up the rest, and start getting ready to brush your teeth. 

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opens, and Seonghwa walks in, unaware that you’re here.

“Oh sorry, I thought you had gone to bed.” He excuses, stopping his tracks. You can’t help but notice how he’s only in his sweatpants, his bare chest visible. You have to fight everything in you not to look down at his naked torso, but it’s almost impossible. 

“I’m about to.” You say, holding the toothbrush in hand.

“Can I brush my teeth?” He asks, pointing at his toothbrush by the sink.

“Sure.” You answer, taking a step away to give him some space.. and not to be too close to him, because he looks better than you imagined, and you're not sure how to behave right now. 

He walks to the sink, and as you brush your teeth, you slowly find your eyes traveling to him. You’ve seen his chest before, but that was years ago when you went to the beach as teens. But now, seeing him as an adult, he’s completely changed. He’s slender with a thin waist, but still lean and muscles visible. His sweatpants are hanging low, making you able to see his entire abdomen and down to the top of his pelvis area through the mirror. 

Never have you seen him like this before, but it’s definitely doing something to you. You feel something in your stomach, the same thing you’ve felt before. And it’s making you want to go absolutely crazy.

But little do you know that Seonghwa is doing anything in his power not to look at you. When he walked out and saw you in your big oversized t-shirt, covering your entire upper body and stopping right at the thighs, he thought that would be the end of him. Your hair is in a messy bun and you look so cozy and comfortable in your shirt. He’s not sure if you’re wearing something underneath, but it doesn’t look like it, and that alone is making his mind go to places it shouldn’t. 

Does he feel your eyes on him? Of course, he does. 

And it’s making him go crazy.

But he can’t look at you or react, because he’s doing everything in his power to think of other things than you, or else a certain part of him would get very.. excited, and in these gray sweatpants, it will be more visible than normal. 

You finish brushing your teeth before him, and you take a step towards the sink. He’s giving you space by taking a step back, but he shouldn’t have done that. Now he has a complete view of you as you’re bending over to spit in the sink, and your shirt slightly raises, still not giving the impression that you’re wearing something underneath. 

He’s about to stop brushing his teeth so he can go back to his room, not being able to stay here a minute longer, but you’re meeting his eyes through the mirror and you send him a relaxed smile.

“Goodnight.” You say just above a whisper.

“Goodnight.” He replies, and you walk back to your room before he can leave. You didn’t get to do your skincare or brush your hair, you just had to get out of there. 

His body was looking amazing, and afraid of suddenly embarrassing yourself, you had to leave. 

After waiting for a few minutes in your room for him to leave, you finally got the chance to finish your night routine. When you opened your door, you found that the bathroom was unoccupied. So, you tiptoed your way back and completed your routine, brushing your hair, doing your nightly skincare routine, and ensuring that you are completely prepared before returning to your room.

Stepping back into the hallway, you walk past the closed door to Seonghwa’s room, but stop when you hear a certain sound. 

A soft grunt came from the other side of the door, only to be followed by a light moan. Your immediate thought is to walk away, but for some reason, you couldn’t get yourself to move. Seonghwa's voice released another moan, sounding so soft and somehow rough at the same time, and before you knew it, your thoughts were running wild. Without realizing it, you take a step closer to his door to get a better listen.

You shouldn't be doing this. But as another moan escapes from behind the door, your heart races. Seonghwa’s voice sounds so mild and soft as these moans continue on, making you picture what he looks like. 

His gray sweatpants pulled down slightly as he strokes himself. Bare chest and in his bed, eyes closed as he bites his lip to quiet down the sounds. His hair messy, possibly sweat starting to form on his forehead.

Moan.

Shivers all over your body from the picture your mind just created. You know he looks absolutely gorgeous because he always does. But this is making you go crazier than ever before, and a sudden need for him is taking over you.

A creaking from the floor underneath you woke you up from your daydreaming, and a longer pause from the moans filled the air. Panic rises inside of you, so you hurry back to your own room. Closing the door behind you, your heart beats fast against your chest. 

Not-so-innocent thoughts still roam your mind as you get under the sheets. Hopefully, he didn’t hear you outside. If he did, you’ll just say you went to the bathroom. 

But never has this happened before, making you wonder what would’ve happened if he caught you listening. 

Before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep, the last thing you think of is Seonghwa.

***

The texts between you and the waiter have been rather superficial so far, not exactly knowing what to talk about yet. Hopefully, the talk will be smooth when you’re on the actual date.

Another day has gone and you went to the city to spend some time and buy some last Christmas gifts. The entire day was spent walking, and you'll admit that your ankle was starting to hurt. You tried pushing away the pain but ended up driving home.

This resulted in you saying no to having dinner in the city. It was your dad's idea, but even the thought of walking anymore was already hurting your ankle, so you told the others to just enjoy a nice dinner in the city. 

Surprised, Seonghwa didn’t join the rest either. You only overheard him telling them to have a nice evening, and then your parents left, along with Seonghwa’s dad. You knew they’d have a great time, probably going out for drinks after dinner.