june writes 🐚🫧

"baby, you're never gonna pass your exam if you don't stop staring at me and start studying," jun giggles, pointing at your textbook from where he sits at the edge of your bed.

you pout and cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. you had been zoning out, watching jun play games on his phone while you're supposed to be studying. "it's not my fault you're prettier to look at."

he blushes and hides his face, leaning over your desk. "are you sure you wouldn't rather look at—" he pauses to read from your textbook, horribly mispronouncing the vocabulary, "—the sternohyoid muscle?”

"i give up," you say with a groan, leaning your head back against the chair. "it's so boring, i hate this class. why did i even take anatomy?"

he shrugs. "well, boring or not, you'll feel worse if you fail the class and have to retake credits.”

you turn to glare at him, but you know he's right. with a sigh you lean over your textbook, your head in your hands as you stare down at the words.

jun clears his throat, and you glance up at him to see what he wants now. "would it help you remember if you had… a real life example?" he says, almost shyly.

"and where exactly am i gonna find one?" you ask, cocking your eyebrow at him.

gently he takes your hand and brings it up to his neck, pressing your palm against his adam's apple. automatically you wrap your fingers around his neck, like you've done so many times before but never in this context. it catches you off-guard, your stomach beginning to warm at the feeling of his throat moving beneath your hand.

"does that feel better?" he asks, his voice suddenly a little more rough than it usually is.

you blink, trying to remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now. “better, as opposed to…?”

you can see the warmth creeping into his cheeks, but he doesn’t take back his offer. “is it helping you focus more, i mean?”

you pause, your eyes flitting over his face. exams are the absolute last thing on your mind right now. “yes—no. yes?”

he slides your textbook off the desk and onto his lap, never breaking eye contact until he looks down at the page. “submandibular triangle,” he reads.

“huh?”

he repeats the words, covering the diagram with his hand to block your view. “i’m quizzing you.”

“right.” your mind goes blank. “um… here.”

you reposition your hand, pressing your thumb gently underneath his chin. he lets out a quiet gasp, and your fingers tighten ever so slightly at the sound. 

“larynx?” you move your fingers lower, and he quickly glances down at the page again, picking out another. “external jugular vein.”

“you’re giving me easy ones,” you say, lowering your hand a few centimeters. you run your thumb along the side of his throat, gently tracing the vein that bulges out. “here.”

he doesn’t have another word prepared, so you take it upon yourself to shift your hand, putting pressure on a section of his neck with your fingers.

his eyes flutter shut with a soft sigh, and the sudden urge to bite him overtakes you. ever so slowly you lean closer, your lips hovering next to him. you can hear his breath catch in his throat, feel his pulse quickening under your fingertips.

“i thought you were helping me study,” you say in a low voice, almost a whisper. your warm breath so close against his neck makes his skin prickle as his face flushes a deep shade of red.

suddenly he opens his eyes, looking down at you through his lashes. “fine. soft palate.” there’s a hint of mischief in his gaze that you recognize far too well.

you narrow your eyes at him, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “i can’t reach that one, jun. it’s inside your mouth.”

“and?”

“and i don’t think shoving my fingers in your mouth is going to help me remember all these for my exam.”

he shrugs and you can feel the muscles in his neck move, your grip still tight around him. “i think it’s worth a try.”

“you’re being difficult, junnie.” your fingers tighten again, a barely audible whimper escaping from his throat.

“maybe that’s on purpose.”

“and why would you be doing that? seems like that would make you a bad study partner.”

“maybe because i want you to kiss me instead.”

you shift your hand, cupping his neck with your palm. “well, how do you expect me to do that if my fingers are in your mouth?”

he pushes your textbook off his lap and onto the floor, giggling like it's the stupidest question he's ever heard and the answer should be obvious. “take them out first.”

you groan and pull him closer to you by the neck, crashing your lips against his. you can feel him smiling against your mouth and you know he's pleased with himself for this, so you squeeze your fingers just a little bit more until he moans.

you pull away from his mouth and start kissing his throat instead, starting at his jaw just beneath his chin and moving your lips downward. he groans and you feel his pulse jump under your tongue as you reposition your hand to press your thumb against his adam's apple. 

your tongue swipes at the soft, pretty skin of his neck as you dig your fingers in and tilt his head to the side, giving you a better angle to begin sucking. he leans his head back, easily complying.

you shift from your chair and onto his lap, straddling him with your legs on either side of his thighs. you can feel his bulge pressing against your tummy as you sit down, and it gives your ego a boost knowing he's already rock hard.

the thought crosses your mind suddenly that it's a good thing you're wearing your thick fuzzy pajama pants instead of shorts like you normally do; otherwise he'd definitely be able to feel your pussy throbbing against his lap, and you're fighting not to give in to the desire so easily. you're practically dripping onto his lap, your panties sticking to you with wetness, but he doesn't need to know that just yet. right now, all you want him to focus on is how good your fingers feel on him and how much you're gonna make him regret teasing you.

his hands immediately grip your waist when you sit down, pulling you closer against his body. you start to suck harder on his neck, determined to make sure the marks you leave on him will stay for days afterwards. god, you better pass this fucking test. 

you bite down on a little patch of skin and he bucks his hips up into you, fingertips squeezing your hips until his knuckles turn white. he groans loudly, a stream of barely comprehensible words flowing from his lips.

“will you be quiet?” you say, a little exasperated, but really you like the way he can't control his mouth. “you're supposed to be helping me focus.”

“i am he—” he starts, but you cut him off by sticking two fingers in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

“now, shut up.”

he moans in surprise but quickly accepts the intrusion, and you feel the electricity in your fingertips as he purses his lips and swirls his tongue around them. you have to hold back a moan yourself at the feeling, his spit coating your fingers and his tongue tickling your skin.

you let out a short, breathy laugh at his eagerness, rewarding him with a grind of your hips against his bulge. “good boy.”

you can see the lust flashing across his eyes at your words and it only makes you want to mark him more, finally removing your hand from around his neck and moving your fingers up to tug on the hair at the base of his scalp.

you shift your head from the side of his neck to the front, kissing up and down the column of his throat and delighting in the way he whimpers so prettily at your touch.

your exam is at the furthest back of your mind by now, but still you can't help but recall the vocab words and diagrams as you grip him. each muscle that contracts when he tries to moan around your fingers, each bone in his throat that you run your hand over, trying to ingrain it in your memory.

finally you pull your fingers out from between his lips, and he lets out a choked exhale when you wipe the spit off on his cheek, running the back of your hand along his chin to brush away his drool. 

you pat his jaw gently, grinning at how out of breath he is. “you changed my mind. you're not a bad study partner, after all.”

and later that night he proves himself again, fucking you into your tiny twin mattress, his hand pressed against the back of your neck so you can feel the same pressure points as he did. and again the next morning before you leave, letting you kiss him until your mouth goes dry and trace every inch of him with your fingers.

after all that studying, needless to say, you ace your exam.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

“fuck,” jun moans breathlessly as he bucks his hips up into you, his fingers holding your waist in a death grip against his lap. “you know my stylist fucking hates you, right?”

“like i give a shit,” you scoff, grazing your teeth over his hard nipple. you can feel the noises he makes vibrating deep in his chest, a low grumble beneath your lips as you let your mouth wander across his skin. “they put you in an outfit like this and expect me to not want to fuck the life out of you?”

you’re sure somebody must be looking for him by now, and people are probably starting to get angry that he’s late for the next round of photoshoots, but when he’d pulled you into his dressing room to get your approval for his outfit, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to get your hands on him, not when he looks so good so exposed like this.

it won’t be the first time his makeup artists will have to cover the fading bruises you’ve left all over his body. but in this outfit that shows off his defined abs and leaves little to the imagination, this time there’s no fabric to hide your marks from the camera. though no one ever mentions it, you know everyone notices, and it gives you a selfish sense of pride knowing that you alone are the one responsible for them.

the exhilaration of having so little time together makes your heart race with a kind of desperation you’ve never felt before. you’ve had plenty of quickies in bathrooms and closets, backstage rooms and changing areas, but never like this. sitting in jun’s lap, fully clothed, both of you frantically grinding against each other as you make it your mission to put your mouth on every inch of him as fast as you possibly can.

jun nearly growls when you rake your nails down his torso, his hands quickly moving up your body to cup your chin and pull your face towards him to capture your lips.

you push your hands flat against his chest, feeling his firm muscle beneath your palms as you desperately work your mouth with his, the sounds of both your whines mixing with the sloppy noise from your kisses.

his hands tighten in your hair, pulling your head back quickly as you both gasp for air. “god, i wanna fuck you so bad right now, but there’s no time,” he murmurs, and you can feel the heat from his breath washing over your lips.

your hands fall to his hips, tracing the deep ridges of his v-line with your fingertips as he tosses his head back with a choked moan. you lean forward to smash your lips against his, and just as you’re about to follow the trail of hair on his stomach down lower, there’s a loud knock at the door and a voice calling jun’s name urgently.

“fuck— baby, i really gotta go,” he groans as he pulls away from you, your bottom lip caught between his teeth for a second before his mouth leaves yours. “you’re gonna make me cum in these pants, and then they’ll really be pissed.”

you whine in annoyance and your fingers grip onto the collar of his jacket trying to tug him back to you, but he grabs your waist to lift you off of his lap, and reluctantly you let him stand up. he curses under his breath as he grabs at his crotch with shaky hands, trying to adjust himself quickly so the tent in his pants isn’t quite so obvious.

he wraps his hands around your waist and drags you toward him, giving you another kiss. “be a good girl and i’ll let you ride my abs when we get home later, okay?” he says in a hoarse voice, his fingers trailing down your jaw. “i know how much you like that. and then after that maybe i’ll let you lick me clean, as a treat.”

“god, that sounds so good. please make this fast, jun, please,” you moan.

“my needy baby,” he chuckles, still a little out of breath. “i’ll try, but we’re already behind schedule, and you know how long these things take.”

“i can think of something else that’s long that i’d rather be taking right now,” you pout at him. you run your hands over his chest once more, and he laughs and pulls you back in for one last rough kiss before heading for the dressing room door.

“i promise i’ll be as fast as i can, and then you can have me all you want. i’ll see you after.” he winks, and a second later he’s gone.

the door slams shut and you fall back down onto the chair with a sigh, leaning your head back as your hand slips down between your legs. you’re impatient, and you’ve got nothing but time to kill waiting for jun to finish working. but the thoughts running through your head and the lingering feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips is more than enough to keep you occupied until he comes back.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @photographic-girl @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @skzzooyaaa @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are turned off to ensure i can tag you properly!

“Psst. Hey.”

You don’t hear her the first time. Hissing your name under her breath a second time, Jennie grabs your arm as you walk past with a fresh bucket of ice, pulling you towards the nearest side station.

“Hey! That guy's in your section again.”

You freeze and set the bucket down behind the counter, watching her tilt her head towards the back corner of the restaurant. It’s hard to resist the urge to turn around and stare, but you manage to look nonchalant as you glance over your shoulder, pretending to scan the room. Sure enough, there he is: menu sitting untouched beside his plate, hands folded atop the table, and staring right at you.

Feeling your cheeks begin to burn, you quickly turn back around and busy yourself fidgeting with a stack of rolled-up napkins. You haven’t even talked to him yet, and somehow he still manages to fluster you. Suddenly you’re grateful that your coworker intercepted you, relieved to have at least a few more seconds to pretend to be focused while you have a chance to collect yourself.

“Have you gotten his number yet, girl? Or at least his name? Because I don't think he's gonna stop coming until you do.”

“No,” you tell her sheepishly, risking a discreet glance over your shoulder at him. Still staring. “I could’ve looked at his card when he signed the check, I guess. But that feels kinda invasive. He didn’t offer, so I didn’t ask.” 

She narrows her eyes playfully at you in disapproval. “Oh, come on, he’s been making ‘fuck-me’ eyes at you for weeks. That counts as him offering!” She shifts her weight, her lips pursed into a thin line like she’s thinking hard. “If you don’t wanna ask, then just… write your phone number on the back of his receipt or something. That would be—”

“—Unprofessional,” you finish for her. With a rag you wipe the condensation from the ice bucket, throwing out a glare at her when she huffs at your refusal. “He probably just likes the booth seats. Some people are weird like that, I don't know. I don’t even know if he’s available, either. That’s the more important question here.”

She gives you a doubtful look. “He shows up alone, every Wednesday night, and asks to be seated at the same table. You’re telling me you seriously think it’s because he likes the furniture? Why do you really think that is?”

“Then it’s the privacy, probably.” You shrug and move past her, dumping out the bucket and refilling it with fresh ice. “It’s the farthest away from the bar. Maybe he doesn’t like the noise.”

“Noise?” She scoffs and puts her free hand on her hip, one eyebrow raised as she goes silent for a few seconds. Even at the peak hours of the night there’s little more than a light chatter in the air, mixing with quiet jazz music playing from the building’s speakers. It’s a bullshit reason and you know it. But you aren’t going to give in to her pestering, and she must be able to sense that because she finally sighs and wipes her hand on her waist apron. “Fine. Whatever. But you can’t avoid him forever. Clearly he’s gonna keep showing up to see you.”

You give her a scowl, but she’s right. You totally are avoiding him, but realistically, what does she expect you to do? Ask him to fuck you on the table in the middle of your shift?

She hands you a chilled bottle of champagne, wiping the neck before draping the hand towel over the side of your bucket. Even she’s started to recognize his routine, ready with the bottle of Dom Perignon that he always asks for ahead of his meal, before anyone’s even taken his order yet. “Quit stalling and go over there, before he leaves us a bad review. He could be an undercover food critic or something, and then Joshua would really kill us.”

The threat of your boss throwing a fit over negative publicity is too real, so you glare at her one last time before inhaling a deep breath. You smooth down your apron and grab a folding stand for his drink. When you turn to start toward his table he’s still staring, but he perks up ever so slightly when he recognizes you starting to head in his direction.

As usual, you greet him with a smile and begin setting up the bottle, slicing open the foil and twisting the cage at the top of the champagne bottle to loosen it. And as usual, he sits back and watches, quiet and observant to your every move in a way that makes you more anxious than any other customer you’ve served.

“Hi— er, good evening. I apologize for the wait. We’ve been a little… slammed tonight.”

It would be impossible for him not to notice the fact that half the tables are empty, but to your relief he doesn’t mention it. There’s only one other party in your section right now, and they’ve been chatting over post-dinner coffee for nearly an hour. Compared to the nights when Rêverie is fully booked, your shift has been practically dead.

“That’s alright.” His voice is smooth, a hint of a low drawl to it that always makes you think of syrup for some reason: sweet and thick, with just the right amount of warmth. This man has the kind of voice that people fall asleep to. “I’m a patient guy.”

You try your best to ignore the tension between you, but it continues to build as he orders: a Steak au Poivre with the salad of the day. Something about the way the French names roll easily from his lips just does it for you, apparently. It takes all your energy to focus on keeping a straight face and not doing something to embarrass yourself.

Just as you start to walk away to relay his order to the kitchen, you hear your name in that familiar voice and you freeze, whipping around to face him. He’s sitting up straighter, leaned over the table to get a better view. He gestures to the nametag on your apron, repeating it once more as you look down at it in confusion. “Am I saying that right?”

Warmth burns in the tips of your ears. Why are you suddenly so shy? But deep down you know exactly why, and it’s no use trying to pretend you don’t. It’s because your name sounds so good on his tongue, long and leisurely and sexy. It’s a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing him say again, and again and again and—

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Great. I’ve been here so many times, I figured I should at least know your name by now.” He smiles and gives a small nod, relaxing back into his seat. There’s a mischievous look in his eye, a mix of coy and confident. “I’m Jeonghan.”

For a moment you let his name roll around in your head, attaching itself to your memory. As much as you hate to admit that Jennie was right, it feels good to finally have a name to go with the face that’s been haunting your workplace for weeks.

For the rest of the evening, something in the air feels different. Your glances across the room at his table are met with self-satisfied grins from him, always catching your eye and holding contact for a few seconds longer than he should. You find any excuse to linger at his table, refilling his water glass or bringing him another basket of bread so you can talk with him a little more. You can almost hear your manager Joshua’s voice in your head, scolding you for spending so much time with a customer instead of leaving them alone to enjoy their meal, but Jeonghan clearly doesn’t seem to mind.

“Why don’t you sit and have some champagne? There’s still half a bottle left,” he asks you at one point, patting the booth next to him with a smirk. “Plenty of room here for two.”

You sigh, putting your hand on your hip with a teasing smile, though the idea doesn’t sound as terrible to you as it probably should. “I’m working, Jeonghan. They’d fire me.”

“Fine,” he pouts, though he doesn’t press any further. You’ve begun to notice that while he loves to joke around, there’s a fine line he won’t cross when it comes to being serious. He pushes your buttons, but never to do any actual harm. Still, he winks at you as you grab an empty plate from his table to make yourself look busy. “Next week, then? I might need your opinion on the menu.”

“I’ll still be working next week, too,” you say with a roll of your eyes, but even that doesn’t dissuade him.

“Perfect. Then I’ll see you next week, same time, same place.”

Jeonghan stays far later than he usually does, picking at his food so he has more excuses to talk to you whenever you make your rounds to check on your tables. After a while the late crowd begins to filter in, and reluctantly he takes the hint, signing the check and leaving a much larger tip than he should, nearly equal to the cost of his meal. 

As much as you’d like him to stay and chat all night, there’s other reservations and Joshua would definitely throw a fit if any customers were kept waiting. There are only a few upscale restaurants in town besides Rêverie, and its reputation makes it difficult to get in. Reservations are so sought-after that they have to be booked at least a month in advance. Which means that either Jeonghan has connections that are important enough to pull some strings and get him a table every week, or he’s been booking them himself all this time. Either way, you have to give him a little bit of credit; his dedication is impressive.

When he walks out the door, coat slung over one arm as he waves goodbye, there’s a little nagging feeling in your chest that starts to build. You push it away and try your best to refocus on work, but before you know it, once the emptiness has settled over the night as you finish out your shift, you realize what that feeling is. You miss him. And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

The following Wednesday passes with another fairly quiet shift, so tonight you’re standing at the side station watching as Jeonghan walks through the doors, sneaking glances at him as he follows the hostess to his regular seat. This time you don’t procrastinate, moving away from your spot to take out a chilled bottle of his usual champagne and a fresh bucket of ice.

You try not to stare as you work, quickly setting up everything you need for his evening, but it’s hard not to let your eyes wander in his direction. He’s in a different suit tonight, a three-piece with a sleek vest underneath that makes his dark colored tie stand out.

As soon as he sits down he pulls out his phone, typing quickly before setting it face-down on top of the table. Taking it as your cue, you grab everything and head over to the booth, surprising yourself with how eager you are. It’s been nice, having something at work to look forward to, now that you aren’t denying how fond you’ve grown of Jeonghan.

You unfold the stand and place the bucket on it, positioning a towel as you prepare to uncork it, but he quickly waves his hand in the air to stop you.

“Oh, not tonight. Sorry,” he says. You frown a little from being surprised, but it’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes people want to switch up their routines. But he goes on, shifting in his seat. “I’m expecting company. But you can put everything on my card like usual.”

You freeze, trying not to show how taken aback you are. Company? It’s been nearly two months of this, of him showing up like clockwork every week, but you can’t expect him to not have friends to go out with. Or maybe a business dinner for work. Your ego is a little wounded from not being able to anticipate the change in his habits, but there’s definitely an explanation. Don’t jump to conclusions, you tell yourself.

“Right. My apologies. I shouldn’t have…” You trail off, but quickly cover it with a cough and bring back the friendly smile on your face. “Would you like me to come back when you’re ready to order, then, or should I grab drinks for the table while you wait?”

“We’ll wait to order together,” Jeonghan says assuredly. His phone vibrates on the table, and he picks it up and types something out quickly, not looking up at you again.

You stand there awkwardly for another few seconds before you finally nod and fold the ice bucket stand back up. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll go grab another place setting for you.”

Feeling more reluctant than before, you take the bottle back to the counter, fumbling to quickly collect an extra set of napkins and silverware along with a second menu. You know you shouldn’t have assumed, even if the customer is a regular like Jeonghan, but you still can’t help feeling blindsided. He isn’t acting any different, but something about tonight still feels strangely off.

You’re even more sure of that when you turn around again to start making your way back to his table. A few steps ahead of you, there’s a woman striding towards him: tall, elegant, her hair pulled up into a loose bun with small black strands framing her face like waves. You can’t help but stare; it feels like everything’s happening in slow motion, shell-shocked as you watch her duck down close to him to say something in his ear before she takes her seat across from him. You stand still for a moment, unable to move as he flashes her a wide grin and leans back in his seat. His body language is much more open now, one arm laid over the back of the booth with his legs splayed beneath the table, wide and casual.

It shouldn’t hurt so much—it shouldn’t hurt you at all—but it does. Weeks of shameless flirting, and for what? Was he just staking out restaurants for good date night spots all this time, waiting to find the right place to take his partner? Does that count as cheating, and should you let her know the way he’s been eyeing you up and down for the past couple months has been anything but professional?

You hesitate for just a moment longer as they talk animatedly, and eventually you have to swallow your pride and go interrupt them with the list of tonight’s specials. “Good evening. We’re happy to have you at Rêverie tonight. Can I get you both started with some drinks?”

Your usual monologue comes out stilted and cold, the same way you’ve rehearsed for what feels like hundreds of times every shift. In your peripheral you almost think you see Jeonghan narrow his eyes in a frown, but you keep your gaze directed at his guest so it’s hard to tell for sure. It’s easier to focus on her than to try to meet his eyes, still feeling embarrassed.

If he does notice it, though, then his partner does not, because she replies quickly and easily, ordering plain sparkling water with a friendly smile. Jeonghan does the same, but unlike every other night he’s been here, his voice similarly comes out flatter than normal, using as few words as possible.

After taking their orders and sulking back to your station, you resolve to avoid that end of the restaurant for the rest of the night. You don’t want to risk overhearing their conversation and whatever romantic bullshit they’re probably talking about. You’ve served enough couples in your time working in fine dining to know that they’re the worst type of customers. People think no one notices what they’re getting up to, but the staff are always aware. Whether it’s a first date, an anniversary, a birthday, or some other stupid occasion, no one is ever discreet about what they’re doing.

To make it even worse, your favorite coworkers aren’t here tonight. God, you really wish Jennie was working. She wouldn’t mind running interference for you. She’d understand better than anyone, now that you have a real reason to pretend Jeonghan doesn’t exist.

By the time he and his “date” leave for the night, you’ve made up your mind. No matter how flirty he is, no matter how much chemistry you have with him, from now on you’re going to act like he means nothing to you. It’s for the best, honestly. You should have known better than to get involved with a customer, and this was the warning you needed to get your priorities straight. As nice as he was, whatever was going on between you and Jeonghan is over, starting now.

Most days you look forward to the weekend and the well-needed time off that it offers, but this time you spend most of it anxiously awaiting the coming days. It’s not like you’ve ever particularly loved coming to work, but there’s a newfound sense of dread now that you know you might have to talk to Jeonghan again. At one point in time, the idea of seeing him almost would have excited you, but not anymore. Not after last week’s embarrassment.

When you get to Rêverie on Wednesday for your shift, you try to get lost in your work, making way more trips back to the kitchen than necessary. You know you’re lingering too much and probably getting in the way of the chef team, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from watching the clock, counting down the hours.

Still, nothing you do stops Jeonghan from arriving at his usual time and requesting to be seated at his usual table. Across the room you can see him arguing with the maître d', a new hire that’s barely finished her training, who timidly tries to explain that she isn’t allowed to do that. You haven’t had very many conversations with Mina yet, but you’ve gotta hand it to her, she’s been dedicated to the house rules. It’s just too bad that there isn’t any rule against customers making requests, no matter how annoying they are.

Before you can do anything to help her out Jennie appears at her side, empty tray in hand, and whispers something in her ear before pointing to the booth in your section. She nods, bowing slightly to Jeonghan and reluctantly leading him to the back corner of the restaurant.

Damn. And you’d almost thought that you might get out of this unscathed after all.

He’s alone again, but it’s hard to tell just from a first glance whether he’s expecting company again or not. You’re tempted to feign sick and beg Jennie to take over your section for the rest of the night, but you couldn’t do that to her. She’s busy enough with the tables in her own section. And besides, she’d just end up convincing you to go talk to him anyway, and you’re not in the mood for another pep-talk.

Mentally preparing yourself, you leave the bottle behind this time as you make your best attempt to walk over to his table with your head held high. The rejection from last week still stings a little, and you’re not eager to repeat the encounter by bringing along something unwanted for a second time.

As usual he greets you with a smile, and as usual your stomach fills with butterflies, despite your best efforts to push them down. This little crush on him you’ve developed clearly isn’t going to lead anywhere, you remind yourself. After so many weeks of seeing each other it’s hard to ignore the instinct to crack jokes, flirting at every opportunity, but the air feels different now. You just need to accept that you read the situation wrong, you made a mistake, and it’s time to move on. It’s better to be professional, anyway. Flirting too much with a customer is dangerous in the long run. It’s not worth losing your job over him.

Before you can even think about starting your customer service script, Jeonghan speaks right away, leaving you no room to skirt around the issue. “Why are you ignoring me?”

His voice is smooth like you’re used to, that low sound from deep in his throat that always makes you feel special for some reason, like he’s talking to you and only you. Chewing on your lip, you have to remind yourself that that’s not true. It never was.

In a split second, you have to decide whether to play along with your faux-friendly waiter voice or confront him, but the importance of keeping your job prevents you from doing the latter. Making a scene in public is the last thing you need, on top of everything else. Instead, you internally give yourself permission to be as passive aggressive as you want to him. You’re fairly good at letting it roll right off your back, but working in this industry sometimes you need more than a friendly smile and a good attitude. No, this is the attitude you usually save for rude, entitled, spoiled, rich, bratty assho— well, er, difficult customers. Either way, right now Jeonghan is being one of those “difficult customers”.

So you plaster on an even brighter, even faker smile and stand up straight, your hands folded formally behind your back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. Shall we start with drinks, or are we still waiting for the rest of our party to arrive?” That last line is spiteful and comes out more snarky than you mean it to, but you can’t lie that it doesn’t feel good to say, not after the roller coaster of emotions he’s put you through.

“Right.” Jeonghan sighs and nods once, as if he finally understands. At least he has the decency to look a little wounded at your words, but you know by now that it’s an act. “I guess I deserved that.”

He pauses for a second like he’s debating his next words. “No,” he answers finally, tilting his head back to look up at you. God, those eyes. Your stomach flips at the sight of his bashful face, faintly hidden behind his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m here alone. Last week…” he lets out another long sigh as he pauses. Does he think it’s amusing to have to explain this to you? You want to slap him right across his gorgeous, perfect face.

“That was my boss. She’s retiring. Last week—Wednesday—was her last day, and I’m taking over her position at the company. So we had dinner to celebrate.” He glances down at the table, and if you didn’t know any better you might almost think he was being sheepish. “And she’s happily married, by the way. To her wife. Not me.”

“Oh.”

After a few seconds of silence you realize how dumb you sound, standing there taking in this news. Come on! All you have to say for yourself is ‘oh’? But his explanation actually makes sense, and his honesty catches you so off guard that you can’t think of any other reply.

If he’s humored by your reaction, he doesn’t show it. In fact, the next words out of his mouth are the last thing you’re expecting to hear. “Look, I get how it probably seemed, and that’s my fault. I wasn’t planning on taking her here, but she’d never been and she’d heard me rave about the food so many times before, so…” Jeonghan exhales, nostrils flaring a little bit as he trails off. “I’m sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t trying to give you the wrong impression.”

“And what impression is that?” FInally getting control of your tongue again, you fold your arms over your chest as you stare down at him. A small part of you is proud of yourself, for managing to recover and string together a coherent reply. But deep down, his apology is appreciated. It’s not every day that a man in your life accepts blame, especially when he’s the one who’s been leading you on.

“The impression that I’m not single. And not wondering if you are, too.”

You nearly choke, struggling to process what he’s just said. The worst part is the sincerity in his gaze as he looks at you, how he meets your eyes and doesn’t back down, as if challenging you to keep denying your feelings for him. It’s the most forward he’s ever been in all the times he’s come here, a buildup of weeks of flirtation and shy back-and-forth. The confidence with which he finally acknowledges it, out loud and explicit, gives you a rush you’ve never felt before.

He just continues to sit there staring up at you, waiting expectantly, and suddenly you realize you’ve been silent for way too long. What do you even say to follow up to that? 

Afraid of getting too far ahead of yourself, you shift your weight, arms still crossed defensively. “So then what’s the reason you keep coming here so often? The food, or me?”

“Both.” He smirks, pleased with his answer when you pretend to frown at him. “But mostly you. There’s any number of fancy places I could throw money away at in this city, but there’s only one that has you.”

And just like that, you feel yourself melting. It’s a cheesy, overused line, but somehow coming from his mouth it works. It should be studied, the way his voice makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What is it you want? Besides annoying me every Wednesday night.”

“Well, first of all, I’d like to order my dinner. Still a paying customer, after all.” There’s that grin again, the one that makes you want to strangle him to death and then kiss him afterward. “But I wanna see you after your shift tonight, if you’d let me. Maybe go somewhere. Dessert’s on me.”

You sigh, checking your wristwatch. “I don’t get off for another… three and a half hours. You aren’t really gonna wait here that long, are you?”

“I’d wait forever for you, beautiful. Told you I was a patient guy.”

You pretend to make a gagging sound, but he only grins at your reaction. You have to admit, he’s kind of endearing. “We have other customers, you know. You’re taking up space.”

“I’ll leave a nice tip, don’t worry,” he chuckles, not a bit offended. “Maybe I’ll demand to see the manager so I can tell them how good the service was. Do you think that’d win me some points?”

“Alright, alright! I’ll decide whether I’m feeling up to it or not once I get off. I’ve been here all day already. That’s all I’m gonna promise.”

Jeonghan flashes a smug smile as he crosses his arms, a casual gesture, but it emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders. “I’ll take what I can get.” He gestures with his head, nodding towards another party a few tables away who are making it extremely obvious that they’re looking for somebody to give them a drink refill. “Hey, go finish your shift. Just don’t forget about me.” 

You roll your eyes, but he shoots you a wink as you walk away. As you turn towards the next table, you prepare your customer-service voice once more, but inside you couldn’t be happier with the way things played out. Well, maybe if he had tried to make a move sooner then it would’ve saved you a weekend of heartbreak, but you have to admit that you’re partially at fault for not saying something earlier too.

As promised, three hours later Jeonghan remains glued to his seat, nursing a cup of coffee.

The rest of the evening seemed to fly by, without any problems — except for the strange looks from your coworkers, and the new maître d' who’d asked a couple times if you wanted her to find Joshua for help getting rid of the guy, thinking he was harassing you. It was a fair assumption, especially considering how many times he’d waved you over to his table to chat with him it might as well be harassment, but you assured her you didn’t need help.

Finally you finish checking out the last party in your section, and you’ve never been more grateful not to be closing tonight. If you had to do all your regular work on top of cleaning and sweeping and helping prep for tomorrow then there’d be no chance of you having enough energy to meet Jeonghan afterwards, but whoever had created the schedule this week must’ve been on your side. Jennie’s the one working the closing shift for tonight, so you make a mental note to text her later to fill her in.

Making eye contact with him from across the room, you look at your watch and then tip your head towards the exit, and he scrambles to stand up, shrugging on his coat. You disappear through the doors marked ‘employees only’ for a moment to grab your belongings, balling up your apron and throwing your purse over your shoulder. When you re-emerge you find him waiting at the entryway of the restaurant, resting his arm on the counter as he chats with Mina. You wave and give her a brief good night, and her eyes dart to Jeonghan for a second before returning the goodbye, a subtle pink creeping into her cheeks.

Though the restaurant is still open for a few more hours, the parking lot is sparse at this hour and it doesn’t take long to find your car. Jeonghan walks with you, standing beside your parking spot with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

“So were you thinking your place, or mine?”

You turn and scoff at him, raising an eyebrow as you begin to fish around in your purse for your keys. “I never agreed to that. I don’t sleep around on the first date.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Who says this is our first date? In fact, this is our…” He counts on his fingers one by one, tallying them off as he speaks. “… ninth. The first date I had pork belly, the second one I had the seafood platter, then the third one—”

You smack his arm. “You call that a date? I don’t think it counts as taking me out to dinner if I’m the one serving it to you.”

“Then let me serve you this time.” He grins mischievously, his eyes darkened with lust. “Is that fair enough?” His hands settle on your waist, and the weight of his touch makes you shiver.

“Only if you promise to take me on a real date next time.”

“I’ll take that deal.” He grins. “Actually, I was going to wait to ask you out until I’d tried the whole menu. Just to make sure I took you somewhere that was up to your standards. Since you’re the food expert here.”

You snort. “Well then, no wonder it took you three months to do something. We do have a pretty big menu.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth, making a thoughtful little sound. “You know, there’s still something I haven’t tried yet…”

His eyes remain fixed on you, but there’s something darker in his gaze as he stares deep into your eyes and slips his hand behind the base of your neck, intentionally slow to give you a chance to push him away. When you don’t move, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a satisfied smirk, and he finally closes the distance and presses his lips against yours. Reciprocating comes naturally to you, and you easily adapt to welcome his kiss, lips moving together in tandem with his.

You feel the pressure from his fingertips increase as he grips your head a little harder, guiding you against him and pulling you in closer. With a little gasp you finally wrap your arms around his body, and you feel him smile into the kiss at your touch. You can tell from the way he devours you how experienced he is and how cocky that makes him, and although the last thing you want to do is stroke his ego, he’s admittedly really good at it. The way he takes control is effortless, dominating the kiss and moving you in exactly the way that makes you feel good without even having to think about it yourself.

His hand on the back of your neck adjusts to explore your head, and you kiss him deeper as his fingers start to trail upwards to tangle in your hair. When his nails dig into your scalp and you let out a whimper into his mouth, he reluctantly pulls back to let you breathe for a second, but you quickly shake your head and try to chase his lips. “More—”

“More?” He quirks up an eyebrow tauntingly, and it’s so attractive it makes you want to smack him again. If this were anyone else you wouldn’t change your mind so quickly, but you’ve been holding back from him for so long that you don’t care even if it breaks your made-up dating rules. “Mm… I see. Well then, if that’s the case, are you really gonna make me ask again?” He pauses, watching the confusion register on your face as he looks on with raw, burning pleasure. “Don’t deny yourself. Answer me this time, darling. Your place or mine?”

“Whatever you want, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” You swallow thickly as you wipe at your bottom lip with your thumb, a futile attempt to fix your lipstick that you’re certain is now smudged beyond repair. Slowly your senses return to you, and you remember where you are: pressed against the side door of your car under a streetlamp. “Wait, but— my car…”

He points to the only other car nearby, a little black Corvette parked sitting quietly across the lot. You’d never thought to wonder what kind of car he drives, but somehow you aren’t surprised. The model seems to fit him. “We could take mine tonight. I’ll drive you back here to pick yours up tomorrow.”

You scoff, but it doesn’t have as much bite in it as it did before. “Tomorrow? You seem pretty confident that you’re getting laid.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a cocky little smile. “I don’t like to be indirect with what I want. Waste of time, in my opinion. You know what I’m asking. If you want to dance around it, I’m not going to force you.” Jeonghan takes a step back from your car, but there’s a hint of smugness in his expression that says he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. “You know what? I’m sure you’ve had a busy evening, working on your feet all night. You should go home. I won’t keep you.”

He takes another half step backwards, and before you can stop yourself a pathetic little whimper tears from your throat as you move to follow him. It instantly makes you cringe how needy you sound, but he seems to only take satisfaction from your reaction as your hand shoots out to grab his wrist. “No. Hold on. I…” 

You sigh, finally admitting defeat. Teasing and dropping subtle hints has always been your style, but he’s managed to break you down and have you begging for him in the span of a few hours. It frustrates you to no end, but it’s also kind of turning you on. This clingy, desperate feeling in your chest is new to you, almost queasy from how badly you want more of his attention. 

You’ve never felt this way with your past relationships, always coming to an end too soon because of how quickly your attachment faded. The red-flag alarm in your head should probably be screaming at you right now, but the nonchalant way he brushes you off and the simultaneous determination in his gaze only makes your heart flutter. He doesn’t hide that he wants you — the look in his eyes alone is enough to tell you that — but at the same time he acts like he couldn’t care less whether you reciprocate or not. And something about that works for you.

Something deep inside, something primal in you, wants him to care. You need him to crave you; you want to make him beg, too. You want to fluster him so bad that he caves, like you did, and just gives in and takes what he so clearly desires. The embarrassment from your own reaction has faded into something more passionate, a competitive yearning to make him feel this pathetic, depraved desperation the way you do. He may think he’s winning, but you’re not going to be satisfied until you’re not the only loser in this game.

His expression is still as smug as ever, but he stands there patient as promised, waiting with your fingers wrapped around his wrist. It’s a strange feeling to swallow your pride and go along with his games, but you’re sure that if you play your cards right this night will go the way you want.

You clear your throat and ease your hand away from his arm, though it pains you a little to let go of him. His skin is soft under your fingertips, with subtle hints of firm muscle hidden by his lanky frame, and you want to keep touching him. You need to keep touching him, to explore every inch of his body and find all of his pressure points, to discover every spot that makes him weak and—

“Did you want to say something?” Jeonghan coaxes, cutting off your rapidly derailing train of thought, and even though he pisses you off you’re grateful for the snap back to reality.

“Yeah,” you finally manage, and force your gaze upward to meet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes that you’ve found staring at you from across the restaurant, week after week. In public he was always subdued, a little flirtatious but always respectful, lingering only just long enough to make sure you noticed but never anything more. But the look in his eyes now is completely different, like he wants you to start tearing his clothes off right here in the parking lot. Pursing your lips, you give him a smirk of your own, and you relish in the way his gaze darkens in response.

“How close is your place?”

Before the door of his penthouse is even fully shut, you’re shoving Jeonghan backwards against his kitchen counter as your lips connect again, your moans mixing together and echoing off the walls throughout the wide open room.

“Oh, I like this.” He flashes a toothy grin before diving back in, equally as passionate. That smirk again; you swear, if he gives you that stupid cocky look one more time, you might slap him. But then his slender fingers cup your chin to draw you closer to his mouth, and the light pressure of his fingertips on your cheeks makes your head spin, making you forget all about how easily he manages to get under your skin. For a split second the thought occurs that those hands would probably look gorgeous wrapped around your throat, but your brain is moving about a million miles per minute and it isn’t long before another, hornier thought replaces it.

You barely even notice him leading you out of the kitchen, step by step pulling you with him into the living room, until you feel your calves hit the back of something firm. You break away just for a moment to look down at his couch, and he gently presses down on your shoulders to guide you to sit.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and you take the hint and quickly begin stripping off your own top as well. Once you’re seated on the couch he sinks to the carpet in front of you, nudging your legs apart to kneel between them and unbutton your pants. Again you’re transfixed by his fingers as he works: the bulging veins that trail across the back of his hand down toward his wrist, his neatly trimmed fingernails. You get so lost in watching the way his knuckles flex that you only belatedly realize what he’s doing once he shimmies your pants down your legs and adjusts his position to press his face between your legs.

“What are you…?”

“I said I was gonna serve you, didn’t I, darling?” Jeonghan finally shrugs his shirt all the way off, revealing an expanse of soft pale skin. But you don’t have time to focus on admiring his body before he leans in close to your inner thigh, his eyes taking in everything in sight with obvious delight.

He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clit through the fabric, and you feel a new wave of slick pooling in response. You don’t even need to see for yourself to know that you’re absolutely soaked. He trails his fingers up your slit, pressing against the fabric to feel your warmth. You’re positive that he can feel your cunt pulsing, leaving two fingers tauntingly between your legs to keep you on edge. When he finally pulls his hand away after teasing you for what feels like hours, the pads of his fingertips are already damp just from touching you through your panties.

Jeonghan hooks a finger around the waistband of your panties on each side of your hips and tugs them away. He moves unbearably slowly to the point where you’re nearly about to start crying and begging him to do something, anything, to you. 

But thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait much longer. Once your lower half is completely naked, he groans at the sight of you and leans in even closer. The tip of his nose brushes against your inner thigh, and his breath is burning hot against your skin as he whispers into you. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this? Dreaming about eating this perfect fucking pussy? How hungry I’ve been for you?”

You moan and let out a hiss, arching your back off the couch as he pushes your legs apart even more forcefully. He still hasn’t done anything yet, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

“Jeonghan!” you whine, scrunching your nose as you concentrate. “Please…”

That smirk returns once again, but it doesn’t linger like it usually does, quickly replaced with a look of desperate lust. “You sound so sexy when you say my name. So much better than I imagined.” He presses his face into your pussy with a pleased sigh, mumbling into your lips. “Wonder if you taste better than I imagined, too.”

And without another second of hesitation, he pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. Instinctively your legs tense and try to close around his head, but his hands are surprisingly strong as he keeps you held open for him to feast on. Jeonghan flattens his tongue against your pussy, curling it to scoop through your folds and collect as much of your slick as he can, then begins to flick it up and down across your clit. If you thought he was good at kissing, then holy fuck, he’s even better at this. Within mere seconds his tongue has you seeing stars, and it’s impossible to keep your mouth shut to stop the endless stream of pathetic noises leaving you.

His hair tickles the top of your stomach as he moves back and forth, and you reach down with one shaking hand to brush it back from his forehead, but it just flops right back down again. He dislodges his mouth from your pussy for long enough to croak out, “Please, baby. Pull my hair. Make me do whatever you want. Wanna make you feel good.”

It takes a minute for his words to register, because he says them in such a whiny, pleading voice that you don’t immediately recognize it as coming from him. You’re so used to the confident, suave voice he uses in public that the man currently devouring your pussy seems like a completely different person. 

You scramble to comply, threading your fingers through his hair and giving his scalp a gentle tug. Instantly his jaw goes slack against your core, letting out a frustrated but very pleased sounding groan. “Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he says, and it’s the last thing you hear before he goes back in for more.

You know you’re done for once he introduces his fingers into the mix. Keeping his lips pursed around your clit, he prods gently at your entrance with his middle and ring finger, shallowly thrusting up to his first knuckle. It takes a few seconds to adjust, but when he feels you relax and loosen up he pushes deeper, until both fingers are fully engulfed inside you. He continues slowly thrusting until he’s satisfied with the lack of resistance, then adds a curling motion each time he pulls his fingers out. If you were a religious woman, you’d swear you were about to meet God.

The stimulation is both too much and not enough at the same time, no matter how desperately you try to rock your hips in rhythm with his tongue. But you can feel it building, getting closer and closer to reaching a peak you can’t come back from, and you know it won’t take much more before you make a mess on his face. As if he knows your orgasms like a sixth sense, his motions become a tiny bit more intense, his tongue pointed more purposefully at your clit and his fingers thrusting just a tiny bit faster. And finally, like a dam breaking loose after a storm, you’re gone.

Your release is loud. Shaking, panting, sweating, and swearing, your hips move on their own to frantically grind against his face in a reckless haze, chasing the high that seems to stretch on and on and on. Jeonghan just sits there and takes it all, sopping up the flood of your slick with his tongue like a starved man as you yank on his hair even harder than before, desperate to keep his mouth in contact with your pussy through the duration of your orgasm. 

After what feels like a full minute of cumming, your clit is still throbbing like crazy, your thighs feel like Jell-O, and your toes are cramping a little, but you would be lying if you said that wasn’t the best head you’ve ever received in your entire life. Man, he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to serve, that’s for sure. It’s way too early to be catching feelings, but all of a sudden there’s a fervent, burning desire in your chest to not let him go. You’ve never admitted to being a jealous person, but the tiny inkling of possessiveness that you feel now mirrors how you’d felt when he showed up to the restaurant last week with someone else.

With legs still trembling you manage to stand up, pulling him up by his shirt collar and shoving him down onto the couch in the same spot you’d just been sitting. Your lower half feels like pure TV static, but you eventually get your knees onto the edge of the cushion and clamber onto the couch, sinking down to straddle your aching pussy over his lap. You slip your hand down between your bodies to palm his bulge, and he rewards you with a loud, choked moan.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you? You want my cock that badly, angel?” 

Jeonghan smirks, and you’re so wound up from the lingering effects of your orgasm that this time you actually do slap him, your hand darting out across his cheek out of instinct. Not hard or meant to hurt him, just a light playful smack, but it’s still enough to make a sound. Immediately your face falls in shock, and you open your mouth to start profusely apologizing for crossing a line. How could you get so caught up in the moment like that? But before you even have a chance to be embarrassed, he just smiles even wider.

He grabs your wrist, which still hovers awkwardly in the air between your bodies, and brings it to his lips to kiss your palm, moaning against your hand. “God, that was hot. Do that again once I’m inside you.” 

His gentle lips tickle your skin, and a shudder runs through your body as he bites playfully. He glances up at you through his lashes, an almost taunting look on his face, and it might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Keeping eye contact you slip your other hand back down to his crotch, fumbling with the button on his pants, and he lets go of your hand to let it join the other so you can undo it faster. All the while he just sits comfortably in his seat, letting you do all the work as he watches, enamored. His head rests against the back of the couch, his neck on full display, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he lets out a little chuckle of satisfaction. He doesn’t even say anything, but his reaction is enough praise to make your cunt pulse, a warm and pleased feeling erupting in your chest from the positive attention.

You finally manage to undo his pants, and wordlessly he lifts his hips to help you push them down past his knees, freeing his hard cock to rest lazily against his stomach. He spreads his legs wider beneath you, sinking deeper into the couch cushions as he slouches down to give you a better angle. The faint grooves of his abs make your mouth water, but as much as you’d like to spend hours running your tongue along every miniscule crevice of his body, there’s more important matters on your agenda right now. Pressing your hands against his chest instead, you rake your nails gently across his skin, and he shivers a little at the feeling as he begins to stroke his cock.

After a few seconds he lets out a shuddering sigh and releases his hand, and his cock stands at attention between your bodies, flushed and strained with need. He moves his hands to your waist, tapping his fingers against you to signal you to sit up. You lift up onto your knees above him and reach beneath you to wrap your hand around him, and he lets out an involuntary little whimper at the contact that makes you smirk. Giving him a couple strokes of your own, you guide the head of his cock between your folds before pushing him inside, both of you groaning in pleasure as you sink down onto his length.

Jeonghan allows you a few seconds to adjust, breathing heavily as that wonderful feeling of fullness washes over you. Without thinking you begin to rock your hips, not moving up and down but simply rolling them forward and backward, grinding against him with his cock buried firmly inside of you. You can feel the tip pressing a little bit deeper with each movement as you start to relax, your walls throbbing and fluttering around him.

For now he’s content to sit back and let you play with him however you want while he lies beneath you, enjoying the view. Each rotation of your hips pushes your chest closer to him, your hard nipples sitting tauntingly at his eye level. You lean forward to hold onto the couch behind him for leverage, pressing your breasts even further into his face, and he smirks up at you in response.

After a minute he lifts his hips a few inches off the couch, experimentally thrusting into you. It’s not much, but it’s still more than enough to take your breath away when you realize how deep he can hit. Your whimper makes him grin as he feels your walls clench around him like a vise, as if trying to pull him in even more.

“Sensitive, hmm?” he coos, though it comes off as more teasing than sincere. You purse your lips into a pout, nodding, but you don’t change your movement. “Still feels good though?”

Instead of replying you lean down and crash your mouth against his once more, starting to lift your hips in a shallow up-and-down motion to test the waters. His cock is still almost all the way buried inside you, only letting an inch slip out before pushing back in, just a hint of extra stimulation.

Your nose is pressed awkwardly into his cheek as you kiss him furiously, but it’s the last thing on your mind as his hands grip your waist more firmly, helping give you a little bit more leverage to continue the slow, rolling movements. His tongue nudges against yours, your lips opening to welcome him.

One thrust hits particularly deep in a particularly sensitive spot deep in your cunt, and you have to pull away quickly for a second to exhale a drawn-out moan before filling your lungs with fresh air. But in that moment, without warning Jeonghan pushes his hips up into the air, bouncing you on his lap, and the force of his thrust cuts off your sound, trailing off into a broken whimper mid-way through. His fingers squeeze your waist harder, digging into your muscles before sliding down to grip your ass for a better angle. It knocks the breath out of you, your core tightening around him.

The rhythm he sets is difficult to keep up with, but luckily for you it doesn’t seem like he expects much effort on your part. All you have to do is sit there on his lap, pliant and relaxed, and let him fuck into you as hard as he wants. His hands supporting your ass are firm, and you can see the strain flexing in his lean biceps as he holds you up. The angle still puts your tits directly in front of his face but he’s staring up into your eyes, his eye contact unflinching as he pants for breath with parted lips.

“Look at you,” he huffs, his voice thick and rough, just loud enough to be heard over the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “So tight. God, you’re so beautiful, riding me just like that. Wanna stay buried in this pussy forever.”

Despite the unfiltered praise he’s giving that makes your stomach twist with butterflies, there’s still that hint of teasing in his words: too genuine to be sarcastic, but at the same time too smug to be completely heartfelt and without ulterior motive. Either way, you can’t deny how good it feels to be worshipped so openly like this, especially by him.

The change in Jeonghan’s attitude doesn’t escape your notice; the way he’s gotten more and more dominant as the night goes on, but somehow at the same time less dominant too. It’s a refreshing change of pace, how naturally your dynamic shifts back and forth at will. His lack of expectations soothes something deep inside you that you weren’t aware needed to be soothed; his easy disposition that lets you take control when you want it and give it back when you don’t. Maybe it’s because he can read you so well, or maybe it’s because he can’t. Either way, his effortless ability to switch between roles is something you didn’t know you were missing in your life, and it makes his actions all the more intense and exciting and unpredictable.

Your throat tightens as you feel the early waves of another orgasm beginning to crash into you, but you can’t get the words out to warn him before one more well-timed thrust sends you hurtling over the edge. You fall forward, catching yourself on his shoulders and gripping him so hard it’s got to hurt, but he says nothing but praises as you cum with your thumbs digging into his collarbone.

“That’s a good girl, keep going. You feel so fucking good, angel. Let me have it, all of it. C’mon— yeah, right there, there you go.”

When the initial shock fades, the high from your second orgasm subsides even more slowly than the first time. You’re still struggling to deal with the effects yourself when Jeonghan frantically pulls you off of his lap, his cock haphazardly recoiling against your stomach as milky white spurts leak from his tip. His eyes are wrenched shut in bliss, his mouth hanging open and his hands squeezing your ass even harder.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of your memory, you make a note that Jeonghan whimpers when he cums. It’s such a beautiful, passionate, strangled sound, and you never want to forget it.

A few moments of silence pass, the room quiet except for the sound of you both heavily panting for breath. Jeonghan finally opens his eyes again, his gaze unfocused for a second before it lands on you, and he breaks out into a smile. A real one this time, not his usual arrogant smirk or teasing grin. He lets out a long, slow, pleased hum and releases his grip on you, sliding to rest on top of your thighs instead.

“Wanna take a shower with me?”

After an hour (maybe a lot longer than an hour…) you’re clean and comfortable and content, both of you lying naked in his bed together. It hadn’t been difficult for him to convince you to stay over for the night and let him spoil you a little more. You’d pretended to be on the fence about whether or not to stay, just to tease him, but his promise to make you breakfast is what had finally won you over.

A half-empty bottle of Dom Perignon rests on the bed between you both, wedged against a couple of pillows. With the sheets messily tossed over your lower half, you balance your glass on your lap as you sit leaned up against the headboard of his bed.

When you’d confessed earlier that you’d never actually tried his favorite brand yourself, despite how often you have to serve it at work, he’d immediately hopped out of the shower to bring you a bottle. His effort was admirable, making a whole show out of uncorking it and pretending to be your waiter, before subsequently spilling most of it on his bathroom floor.

Now, Jeonghan sits propped up on one elbow, holding his own glass of champagne in one hand while resting the other across your hip. You didn’t initially label him as being a touchy-feely kind of guy, but the way he hasn’t let you out of his sight all night has been kind of endearing. Maybe you’re both clingier than you thought.

You sigh, exhausted but relaxed, and take another sip from your flute. “I guess you’re right. This is totally better than the cheap stuff.”

He lets out a tipsy little giggle, grabbing the bottle and pouring the rest of it into your glass to top it off. “I told you, I know my wines. Only the best for you. That’s why I always ordered it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue with him. By now, you believe he really does mean all the cheesy crap he says. He did promise to actually take you on a real date next weekend, not a “stalking you at your workplace” kind of date. Maybe it’s just the champagne talking, but after tonight, his sincerity about has put a warm, fizzy feeling in your stomach. (But then again, that might be the champagne.)

Either way, you’re not denying your feelings anymore, and neither is he.

“Cheers,” he says after a minute of content silence, holding up his glass in front of him. The look in his eyes mirrors your own, something bright and soft and happy that makes your heart flutter.

“What are we cheers-ing to?” you laugh.

“Hm. Well…” He pauses and bites his lip.

It’s been too long since you last kissed him, you think to yourself as you wait for his answer, watching him absently pull his bottom lip between his teeth. You need to change that. 

“To good food and good sex. Both of which you can provide.”

You grin back at him and raise your glass to clink against his. “Sure. To the finer things in life.”

bonus:

© junkissed 2026. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

this is the first fic i've been able to finish after a long hiatus and i'm genuinely so proud of how it turned out, so i truly hope you enjoyed reading!! if you did please reblog with your thoughts, or leave a comment or send an ask! reblogs are legit what makes tumblr work: it shows me that people are interested in this content, and knowing people liked it makes me more inspired to write more! i put a TON of time, love, and effort into my fics, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the reblogs of this post!

“Psst. Hey.”

You don’t hear her the first time. Hissing your name under her breath a second time, Jennie grabs your arm as you walk past with a fresh bucket of ice, pulling you towards the nearest side station.

“Hey! That guy's in your section again.”

You freeze and set the bucket down behind the counter, watching her tilt her head towards the back corner of the restaurant. It’s hard to resist the urge to turn around and stare, but you manage to look nonchalant as you glance over your shoulder, pretending to scan the room. Sure enough, there he is: menu sitting untouched beside his plate, hands folded atop the table, and staring right at you.

Feeling your cheeks begin to burn, you quickly turn back around and busy yourself fidgeting with a stack of rolled-up napkins. You haven’t even talked to him yet, and somehow he still manages to fluster you. Suddenly you’re grateful that your coworker intercepted you, relieved to have at least a few more seconds to pretend to be focused while you have a chance to collect yourself.

“Have you gotten his number yet, girl? Or at least his name? Because I don't think he's gonna stop coming until you do.”

“No,” you tell her sheepishly, risking a discreet glance over your shoulder at him. Still staring. “I could’ve looked at his card when he signed the check, I guess. But that feels kinda invasive. He didn’t offer, so I didn’t ask.” 

She narrows her eyes playfully at you in disapproval. “Oh, come on, he’s been making ‘fuck-me’ eyes at you for weeks. That counts as him offering!” She shifts her weight, her lips pursed into a thin line like she’s thinking hard. “If you don’t wanna ask, then just… write your phone number on the back of his receipt or something. That would be—”

“—Unprofessional,” you finish for her. With a rag you wipe the condensation from the ice bucket, throwing out a glare at her when she huffs at your refusal. “He probably just likes the booth seats. Some people are weird like that, I don't know. I don’t even know if he’s available, either. That’s the more important question here.”

She gives you a doubtful look. “He shows up alone, every Wednesday night, and asks to be seated at the same table. You’re telling me you seriously think it’s because he likes the furniture? Why do you really think that is?”

“Then it’s the privacy, probably.” You shrug and move past her, dumping out the bucket and refilling it with fresh ice. “It’s the farthest away from the bar. Maybe he doesn’t like the noise.”

“Noise?” She scoffs and puts her free hand on her hip, one eyebrow raised as she goes silent for a few seconds. Even at the peak hours of the night there’s little more than a light chatter in the air, mixing with quiet jazz music playing from the building’s speakers. It’s a bullshit reason and you know it. But you aren’t going to give in to her pestering, and she must be able to sense that because she finally sighs and wipes her hand on her waist apron. “Fine. Whatever. But you can’t avoid him forever. Clearly he’s gonna keep showing up to see you.”

You give her a scowl, but she’s right. You totally are avoiding him, but realistically, what does she expect you to do? Ask him to fuck you on the table in the middle of your shift?

She hands you a chilled bottle of champagne, wiping the neck before draping the hand towel over the side of your bucket. Even she’s started to recognize his routine, ready with the bottle of Dom Perignon that he always asks for ahead of his meal, before anyone’s even taken his order yet. “Quit stalling and go over there, before he leaves us a bad review. He could be an undercover food critic or something, and then Joshua would really kill us.”

The threat of your boss throwing a fit over negative publicity is too real, so you glare at her one last time before inhaling a deep breath. You smooth down your apron and grab a folding stand for his drink. When you turn to start toward his table he’s still staring, but he perks up ever so slightly when he recognizes you starting to head in his direction.

As usual, you greet him with a smile and begin setting up the bottle, slicing open the foil and twisting the cage at the top of the champagne bottle to loosen it. And as usual, he sits back and watches, quiet and observant to your every move in a way that makes you more anxious than any other customer you’ve served.

“Hi— er, good evening. I apologize for the wait. We’ve been a little… slammed tonight.”

It would be impossible for him not to notice the fact that half the tables are empty, but to your relief he doesn’t mention it. There’s only one other party in your section right now, and they’ve been chatting over post-dinner coffee for nearly an hour. Compared to the nights when Rêverie is fully booked, your shift has been practically dead.

“That’s alright.” His voice is smooth, a hint of a low drawl to it that always makes you think of syrup for some reason: sweet and thick, with just the right amount of warmth. This man has the kind of voice that people fall asleep to. “I’m a patient guy.”

You try your best to ignore the tension between you, but it continues to build as he orders: a Steak au Poivre with the salad of the day. Something about the way the French names roll easily from his lips just does it for you, apparently. It takes all your energy to focus on keeping a straight face and not doing something to embarrass yourself.

Just as you start to walk away to relay his order to the kitchen, you hear your name in that familiar voice and you freeze, whipping around to face him. He’s sitting up straighter, leaned over the table to get a better view. He gestures to the nametag on your apron, repeating it once more as you look down at it in confusion. “Am I saying that right?”

Warmth burns in the tips of your ears. Why are you suddenly so shy? But deep down you know exactly why, and it’s no use trying to pretend you don’t. It’s because your name sounds so good on his tongue, long and leisurely and sexy. It’s a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing him say again, and again and again and—

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Great. I’ve been here so many times, I figured I should at least know your name by now.” He smiles and gives a small nod, relaxing back into his seat. There’s a mischievous look in his eye, a mix of coy and confident. “I’m Jeonghan.”

For a moment you let his name roll around in your head, attaching itself to your memory. As much as you hate to admit that Jennie was right, it feels good to finally have a name to go with the face that’s been haunting your workplace for weeks.

For the rest of the evening, something in the air feels different. Your glances across the room at his table are met with self-satisfied grins from him, always catching your eye and holding contact for a few seconds longer than he should. You find any excuse to linger at his table, refilling his water glass or bringing him another basket of bread so you can talk with him a little more. You can almost hear your manager Joshua’s voice in your head, scolding you for spending so much time with a customer instead of leaving them alone to enjoy their meal, but Jeonghan clearly doesn’t seem to mind.

“Why don’t you sit and have some champagne? There’s still half a bottle left,” he asks you at one point, patting the booth next to him with a smirk. “Plenty of room here for two.”

You sigh, putting your hand on your hip with a teasing smile, though the idea doesn’t sound as terrible to you as it probably should. “I’m working, Jeonghan. They’d fire me.”

“Fine,” he pouts, though he doesn’t press any further. You’ve begun to notice that while he loves to joke around, there’s a fine line he won’t cross when it comes to being serious. He pushes your buttons, but never to do any actual harm. Still, he winks at you as you grab an empty plate from his table to make yourself look busy. “Next week, then? I might need your opinion on the menu.”

“I’ll still be working next week, too,” you say with a roll of your eyes, but even that doesn’t dissuade him.

“Perfect. Then I’ll see you next week, same time, same place.”

Jeonghan stays far later than he usually does, picking at his food so he has more excuses to talk to you whenever you make your rounds to check on your tables. After a while the late crowd begins to filter in, and reluctantly he takes the hint, signing the check and leaving a much larger tip than he should, nearly equal to the cost of his meal. 

As much as you’d like him to stay and chat all night, there’s other reservations and Joshua would definitely throw a fit if any customers were kept waiting. There are only a few upscale restaurants in town besides Rêverie, and its reputation makes it difficult to get in. Reservations are so sought-after that they have to be booked at least a month in advance. Which means that either Jeonghan has connections that are important enough to pull some strings and get him a table every week, or he’s been booking them himself all this time. Either way, you have to give him a little bit of credit; his dedication is impressive.

When he walks out the door, coat slung over one arm as he waves goodbye, there’s a little nagging feeling in your chest that starts to build. You push it away and try your best to refocus on work, but before you know it, once the emptiness has settled over the night as you finish out your shift, you realize what that feeling is. You miss him. And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

The following Wednesday passes with another fairly quiet shift, so tonight you’re standing at the side station watching as Jeonghan walks through the doors, sneaking glances at him as he follows the hostess to his regular seat. This time you don’t procrastinate, moving away from your spot to take out a chilled bottle of his usual champagne and a fresh bucket of ice.

You try not to stare as you work, quickly setting up everything you need for his evening, but it’s hard not to let your eyes wander in his direction. He’s in a different suit tonight, a three-piece with a sleek vest underneath that makes his dark colored tie stand out.

As soon as he sits down he pulls out his phone, typing quickly before setting it face-down on top of the table. Taking it as your cue, you grab everything and head over to the booth, surprising yourself with how eager you are. It’s been nice, having something at work to look forward to, now that you aren’t denying how fond you’ve grown of Jeonghan.

You unfold the stand and place the bucket on it, positioning a towel as you prepare to uncork it, but he quickly waves his hand in the air to stop you.

“Oh, not tonight. Sorry,” he says. You frown a little from being surprised, but it’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes people want to switch up their routines. But he goes on, shifting in his seat. “I’m expecting company. But you can put everything on my card like usual.”

You freeze, trying not to show how taken aback you are. Company? It’s been nearly two months of this, of him showing up like clockwork every week, but you can’t expect him to not have friends to go out with. Or maybe a business dinner for work. Your ego is a little wounded from not being able to anticipate the change in his habits, but there’s definitely an explanation. Don’t jump to conclusions, you tell yourself.

“Right. My apologies. I shouldn’t have…” You trail off, but quickly cover it with a cough and bring back the friendly smile on your face. “Would you like me to come back when you’re ready to order, then, or should I grab drinks for the table while you wait?”

“We’ll wait to order together,” Jeonghan says assuredly. His phone vibrates on the table, and he picks it up and types something out quickly, not looking up at you again.

You stand there awkwardly for another few seconds before you finally nod and fold the ice bucket stand back up. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll go grab another place setting for you.”

Feeling more reluctant than before, you take the bottle back to the counter, fumbling to quickly collect an extra set of napkins and silverware along with a second menu. You know you shouldn’t have assumed, even if the customer is a regular like Jeonghan, but you still can’t help feeling blindsided. He isn’t acting any different, but something about tonight still feels strangely off.

You’re even more sure of that when you turn around again to start making your way back to his table. A few steps ahead of you, there’s a woman striding towards him: tall, elegant, her hair pulled up into a loose bun with small black strands framing her face like waves. You can’t help but stare; it feels like everything’s happening in slow motion, shell-shocked as you watch her duck down close to him to say something in his ear before she takes her seat across from him. You stand still for a moment, unable to move as he flashes her a wide grin and leans back in his seat. His body language is much more open now, one arm laid over the back of the booth with his legs splayed beneath the table, wide and casual.

It shouldn’t hurt so much—it shouldn’t hurt you at all—but it does. Weeks of shameless flirting, and for what? Was he just staking out restaurants for good date night spots all this time, waiting to find the right place to take his partner? Does that count as cheating, and should you let her know the way he’s been eyeing you up and down for the past couple months has been anything but professional?

You hesitate for just a moment longer as they talk animatedly, and eventually you have to swallow your pride and go interrupt them with the list of tonight’s specials. “Good evening. We’re happy to have you at Rêverie tonight. Can I get you both started with some drinks?”

Your usual monologue comes out stilted and cold, the same way you’ve rehearsed for what feels like hundreds of times every shift. In your peripheral you almost think you see Jeonghan narrow his eyes in a frown, but you keep your gaze directed at his guest so it’s hard to tell for sure. It’s easier to focus on her than to try to meet his eyes, still feeling embarrassed.

If he does notice it, though, then his partner does not, because she replies quickly and easily, ordering plain sparkling water with a friendly smile. Jeonghan does the same, but unlike every other night he’s been here, his voice similarly comes out flatter than normal, using as few words as possible.

After taking their orders and sulking back to your station, you resolve to avoid that end of the restaurant for the rest of the night. You don’t want to risk overhearing their conversation and whatever romantic bullshit they’re probably talking about. You’ve served enough couples in your time working in fine dining to know that they’re the worst type of customers. People think no one notices what they’re getting up to, but the staff are always aware. Whether it’s a first date, an anniversary, a birthday, or some other stupid occasion, no one is ever discreet about what they’re doing.

To make it even worse, your favorite coworkers aren’t here tonight. God, you really wish Jennie was working. She wouldn’t mind running interference for you. She’d understand better than anyone, now that you have a real reason to pretend Jeonghan doesn’t exist.

By the time he and his “date” leave for the night, you’ve made up your mind. No matter how flirty he is, no matter how much chemistry you have with him, from now on you’re going to act like he means nothing to you. It’s for the best, honestly. You should have known better than to get involved with a customer, and this was the warning you needed to get your priorities straight. As nice as he was, whatever was going on between you and Jeonghan is over, starting now.

Most days you look forward to the weekend and the well-needed time off that it offers, but this time you spend most of it anxiously awaiting the coming days. It’s not like you’ve ever particularly loved coming to work, but there’s a newfound sense of dread now that you know you might have to talk to Jeonghan again. At one point in time, the idea of seeing him almost would have excited you, but not anymore. Not after last week’s embarrassment.

When you get to Rêverie on Wednesday for your shift, you try to get lost in your work, making way more trips back to the kitchen than necessary. You know you’re lingering too much and probably getting in the way of the chef team, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from watching the clock, counting down the hours.

Still, nothing you do stops Jeonghan from arriving at his usual time and requesting to be seated at his usual table. Across the room you can see him arguing with the maître d', a new hire that’s barely finished her training, who timidly tries to explain that she isn’t allowed to do that. You haven’t had very many conversations with Mina yet, but you’ve gotta hand it to her, she’s been dedicated to the house rules. It’s just too bad that there isn’t any rule against customers making requests, no matter how annoying they are.

Before you can do anything to help her out Jennie appears at her side, empty tray in hand, and whispers something in her ear before pointing to the booth in your section. She nods, bowing slightly to Jeonghan and reluctantly leading him to the back corner of the restaurant.

Damn. And you’d almost thought that you might get out of this unscathed after all.

He’s alone again, but it’s hard to tell just from a first glance whether he’s expecting company again or not. You’re tempted to feign sick and beg Jennie to take over your section for the rest of the night, but you couldn’t do that to her. She’s busy enough with the tables in her own section. And besides, she’d just end up convincing you to go talk to him anyway, and you’re not in the mood for another pep-talk.

Mentally preparing yourself, you leave the bottle behind this time as you make your best attempt to walk over to his table with your head held high. The rejection from last week still stings a little, and you’re not eager to repeat the encounter by bringing along something unwanted for a second time.

As usual he greets you with a smile, and as usual your stomach fills with butterflies, despite your best efforts to push them down. This little crush on him you’ve developed clearly isn’t going to lead anywhere, you remind yourself. After so many weeks of seeing each other it’s hard to ignore the instinct to crack jokes, flirting at every opportunity, but the air feels different now. You just need to accept that you read the situation wrong, you made a mistake, and it’s time to move on. It’s better to be professional, anyway. Flirting too much with a customer is dangerous in the long run. It’s not worth losing your job over him.

Before you can even think about starting your customer service script, Jeonghan speaks right away, leaving you no room to skirt around the issue. “Why are you ignoring me?”

His voice is smooth like you’re used to, that low sound from deep in his throat that always makes you feel special for some reason, like he’s talking to you and only you. Chewing on your lip, you have to remind yourself that that’s not true. It never was.

In a split second, you have to decide whether to play along with your faux-friendly waiter voice or confront him, but the importance of keeping your job prevents you from doing the latter. Making a scene in public is the last thing you need, on top of everything else. Instead, you internally give yourself permission to be as passive aggressive as you want to him. You’re fairly good at letting it roll right off your back, but working in this industry sometimes you need more than a friendly smile and a good attitude. No, this is the attitude you usually save for rude, entitled, spoiled, rich, bratty assho— well, er, difficult customers. Either way, right now Jeonghan is being one of those “difficult customers”.

So you plaster on an even brighter, even faker smile and stand up straight, your hands folded formally behind your back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. Shall we start with drinks, or are we still waiting for the rest of our party to arrive?” That last line is spiteful and comes out more snarky than you mean it to, but you can’t lie that it doesn’t feel good to say, not after the roller coaster of emotions he’s put you through.

“Right.” Jeonghan sighs and nods once, as if he finally understands. At least he has the decency to look a little wounded at your words, but you know by now that it’s an act. “I guess I deserved that.”

He pauses for a second like he’s debating his next words. “No,” he answers finally, tilting his head back to look up at you. God, those eyes. Your stomach flips at the sight of his bashful face, faintly hidden behind his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m here alone. Last week…” he lets out another long sigh as he pauses. Does he think it’s amusing to have to explain this to you? You want to slap him right across his gorgeous, perfect face.

“That was my boss. She’s retiring. Last week—Wednesday—was her last day, and I’m taking over her position at the company. So we had dinner to celebrate.” He glances down at the table, and if you didn’t know any better you might almost think he was being sheepish. “And she’s happily married, by the way. To her wife. Not me.”

“Oh.”

After a few seconds of silence you realize how dumb you sound, standing there taking in this news. Come on! All you have to say for yourself is ‘oh’? But his explanation actually makes sense, and his honesty catches you so off guard that you can’t think of any other reply.

If he’s humored by your reaction, he doesn’t show it. In fact, the next words out of his mouth are the last thing you’re expecting to hear. “Look, I get how it probably seemed, and that’s my fault. I wasn’t planning on taking her here, but she’d never been and she’d heard me rave about the food so many times before, so…” Jeonghan exhales, nostrils flaring a little bit as he trails off. “I’m sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t trying to give you the wrong impression.”

“And what impression is that?” FInally getting control of your tongue again, you fold your arms over your chest as you stare down at him. A small part of you is proud of yourself, for managing to recover and string together a coherent reply. But deep down, his apology is appreciated. It’s not every day that a man in your life accepts blame, especially when he’s the one who’s been leading you on.

“The impression that I’m not single. And not wondering if you are, too.”

You nearly choke, struggling to process what he’s just said. The worst part is the sincerity in his gaze as he looks at you, how he meets your eyes and doesn’t back down, as if challenging you to keep denying your feelings for him. It’s the most forward he’s ever been in all the times he’s come here, a buildup of weeks of flirtation and shy back-and-forth. The confidence with which he finally acknowledges it, out loud and explicit, gives you a rush you’ve never felt before.

He just continues to sit there staring up at you, waiting expectantly, and suddenly you realize you’ve been silent for way too long. What do you even say to follow up to that? 

Afraid of getting too far ahead of yourself, you shift your weight, arms still crossed defensively. “So then what’s the reason you keep coming here so often? The food, or me?”

“Both.” He smirks, pleased with his answer when you pretend to frown at him. “But mostly you. There’s any number of fancy places I could throw money away at in this city, but there’s only one that has you.”

And just like that, you feel yourself melting. It’s a cheesy, overused line, but somehow coming from his mouth it works. It should be studied, the way his voice makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What is it you want? Besides annoying me every Wednesday night.”

“Well, first of all, I’d like to order my dinner. Still a paying customer, after all.” There’s that grin again, the one that makes you want to strangle him to death and then kiss him afterward. “But I wanna see you after your shift tonight, if you’d let me. Maybe go somewhere. Dessert’s on me.”

You sigh, checking your wristwatch. “I don’t get off for another… three and a half hours. You aren’t really gonna wait here that long, are you?”

“I’d wait forever for you, beautiful. Told you I was a patient guy.”

You pretend to make a gagging sound, but he only grins at your reaction. You have to admit, he’s kind of endearing. “We have other customers, you know. You’re taking up space.”

“I’ll leave a nice tip, don’t worry,” he chuckles, not a bit offended. “Maybe I’ll demand to see the manager so I can tell them how good the service was. Do you think that’d win me some points?”

“Alright, alright! I’ll decide whether I’m feeling up to it or not once I get off. I’ve been here all day already. That’s all I’m gonna promise.”

Jeonghan flashes a smug smile as he crosses his arms, a casual gesture, but it emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders. “I’ll take what I can get.” He gestures with his head, nodding towards another party a few tables away who are making it extremely obvious that they’re looking for somebody to give them a drink refill. “Hey, go finish your shift. Just don’t forget about me.” 

You roll your eyes, but he shoots you a wink as you walk away. As you turn towards the next table, you prepare your customer-service voice once more, but inside you couldn’t be happier with the way things played out. Well, maybe if he had tried to make a move sooner then it would’ve saved you a weekend of heartbreak, but you have to admit that you’re partially at fault for not saying something earlier too.

As promised, three hours later Jeonghan remains glued to his seat, nursing a cup of coffee.

The rest of the evening seemed to fly by, without any problems — except for the strange looks from your coworkers, and the new maître d' who’d asked a couple times if you wanted her to find Joshua for help getting rid of the guy, thinking he was harassing you. It was a fair assumption, especially considering how many times he’d waved you over to his table to chat with him it might as well be harassment, but you assured her you didn’t need help.

Finally you finish checking out the last party in your section, and you’ve never been more grateful not to be closing tonight. If you had to do all your regular work on top of cleaning and sweeping and helping prep for tomorrow then there’d be no chance of you having enough energy to meet Jeonghan afterwards, but whoever had created the schedule this week must’ve been on your side. Jennie’s the one working the closing shift for tonight, so you make a mental note to text her later to fill her in.

Making eye contact with him from across the room, you look at your watch and then tip your head towards the exit, and he scrambles to stand up, shrugging on his coat. You disappear through the doors marked ‘employees only’ for a moment to grab your belongings, balling up your apron and throwing your purse over your shoulder. When you re-emerge you find him waiting at the entryway of the restaurant, resting his arm on the counter as he chats with Mina. You wave and give her a brief good night, and her eyes dart to Jeonghan for a second before returning the goodbye, a subtle pink creeping into her cheeks.

Though the restaurant is still open for a few more hours, the parking lot is sparse at this hour and it doesn’t take long to find your car. Jeonghan walks with you, standing beside your parking spot with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

“So were you thinking your place, or mine?”

You turn and scoff at him, raising an eyebrow as you begin to fish around in your purse for your keys. “I never agreed to that. I don’t sleep around on the first date.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Who says this is our first date? In fact, this is our…” He counts on his fingers one by one, tallying them off as he speaks. “… ninth. The first date I had pork belly, the second one I had the seafood platter, then the third one—”

You smack his arm. “You call that a date? I don’t think it counts as taking me out to dinner if I’m the one serving it to you.”

“Then let me serve you this time.” He grins mischievously, his eyes darkened with lust. “Is that fair enough?” His hands settle on your waist, and the weight of his touch makes you shiver.

“Only if you promise to take me on a real date next time.”

“I’ll take that deal.” He grins. “Actually, I was going to wait to ask you out until I’d tried the whole menu. Just to make sure I took you somewhere that was up to your standards. Since you’re the food expert here.”

You snort. “Well then, no wonder it took you three months to do something. We do have a pretty big menu.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth, making a thoughtful little sound. “You know, there’s still something I haven’t tried yet…”

His eyes remain fixed on you, but there’s something darker in his gaze as he stares deep into your eyes and slips his hand behind the base of your neck, intentionally slow to give you a chance to push him away. When you don’t move, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a satisfied smirk, and he finally closes the distance and presses his lips against yours. Reciprocating comes naturally to you, and you easily adapt to welcome his kiss, lips moving together in tandem with his.

You feel the pressure from his fingertips increase as he grips your head a little harder, guiding you against him and pulling you in closer. With a little gasp you finally wrap your arms around his body, and you feel him smile into the kiss at your touch. You can tell from the way he devours you how experienced he is and how cocky that makes him, and although the last thing you want to do is stroke his ego, he’s admittedly really good at it. The way he takes control is effortless, dominating the kiss and moving you in exactly the way that makes you feel good without even having to think about it yourself.

His hand on the back of your neck adjusts to explore your head, and you kiss him deeper as his fingers start to trail upwards to tangle in your hair. When his nails dig into your scalp and you let out a whimper into his mouth, he reluctantly pulls back to let you breathe for a second, but you quickly shake your head and try to chase his lips. “More—”

“More?” He quirks up an eyebrow tauntingly, and it’s so attractive it makes you want to smack him again. If this were anyone else you wouldn’t change your mind so quickly, but you’ve been holding back from him for so long that you don’t care even if it breaks your made-up dating rules. “Mm… I see. Well then, if that’s the case, are you really gonna make me ask again?” He pauses, watching the confusion register on your face as he looks on with raw, burning pleasure. “Don’t deny yourself. Answer me this time, darling. Your place or mine?”

“Whatever you want, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” You swallow thickly as you wipe at your bottom lip with your thumb, a futile attempt to fix your lipstick that you’re certain is now smudged beyond repair. Slowly your senses return to you, and you remember where you are: pressed against the side door of your car under a streetlamp. “Wait, but— my car…”

He points to the only other car nearby, a little black Corvette parked sitting quietly across the lot. You’d never thought to wonder what kind of car he drives, but somehow you aren’t surprised. The model seems to fit him. “We could take mine tonight. I’ll drive you back here to pick yours up tomorrow.”

You scoff, but it doesn’t have as much bite in it as it did before. “Tomorrow? You seem pretty confident that you’re getting laid.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a cocky little smile. “I don’t like to be indirect with what I want. Waste of time, in my opinion. You know what I’m asking. If you want to dance around it, I’m not going to force you.” Jeonghan takes a step back from your car, but there’s a hint of smugness in his expression that says he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. “You know what? I’m sure you’ve had a busy evening, working on your feet all night. You should go home. I won’t keep you.”

He takes another half step backwards, and before you can stop yourself a pathetic little whimper tears from your throat as you move to follow him. It instantly makes you cringe how needy you sound, but he seems to only take satisfaction from your reaction as your hand shoots out to grab his wrist. “No. Hold on. I…” 

You sigh, finally admitting defeat. Teasing and dropping subtle hints has always been your style, but he’s managed to break you down and have you begging for him in the span of a few hours. It frustrates you to no end, but it’s also kind of turning you on. This clingy, desperate feeling in your chest is new to you, almost queasy from how badly you want more of his attention. 

You’ve never felt this way with your past relationships, always coming to an end too soon because of how quickly your attachment faded. The red-flag alarm in your head should probably be screaming at you right now, but the nonchalant way he brushes you off and the simultaneous determination in his gaze only makes your heart flutter. He doesn’t hide that he wants you — the look in his eyes alone is enough to tell you that — but at the same time he acts like he couldn’t care less whether you reciprocate or not. And something about that works for you.

Something deep inside, something primal in you, wants him to care. You need him to crave you; you want to make him beg, too. You want to fluster him so bad that he caves, like you did, and just gives in and takes what he so clearly desires. The embarrassment from your own reaction has faded into something more passionate, a competitive yearning to make him feel this pathetic, depraved desperation the way you do. He may think he’s winning, but you’re not going to be satisfied until you’re not the only loser in this game.

His expression is still as smug as ever, but he stands there patient as promised, waiting with your fingers wrapped around his wrist. It’s a strange feeling to swallow your pride and go along with his games, but you’re sure that if you play your cards right this night will go the way you want.

You clear your throat and ease your hand away from his arm, though it pains you a little to let go of him. His skin is soft under your fingertips, with subtle hints of firm muscle hidden by his lanky frame, and you want to keep touching him. You need to keep touching him, to explore every inch of his body and find all of his pressure points, to discover every spot that makes him weak and—

“Did you want to say something?” Jeonghan coaxes, cutting off your rapidly derailing train of thought, and even though he pisses you off you’re grateful for the snap back to reality.

“Yeah,” you finally manage, and force your gaze upward to meet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes that you’ve found staring at you from across the restaurant, week after week. In public he was always subdued, a little flirtatious but always respectful, lingering only just long enough to make sure you noticed but never anything more. But the look in his eyes now is completely different, like he wants you to start tearing his clothes off right here in the parking lot. Pursing your lips, you give him a smirk of your own, and you relish in the way his gaze darkens in response.

“How close is your place?”

Before the door of his penthouse is even fully shut, you’re shoving Jeonghan backwards against his kitchen counter as your lips connect again, your moans mixing together and echoing off the walls throughout the wide open room.

“Oh, I like this.” He flashes a toothy grin before diving back in, equally as passionate. That smirk again; you swear, if he gives you that stupid cocky look one more time, you might slap him. But then his slender fingers cup your chin to draw you closer to his mouth, and the light pressure of his fingertips on your cheeks makes your head spin, making you forget all about how easily he manages to get under your skin. For a split second the thought occurs that those hands would probably look gorgeous wrapped around your throat, but your brain is moving about a million miles per minute and it isn’t long before another, hornier thought replaces it.

You barely even notice him leading you out of the kitchen, step by step pulling you with him into the living room, until you feel your calves hit the back of something firm. You break away just for a moment to look down at his couch, and he gently presses down on your shoulders to guide you to sit.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and you take the hint and quickly begin stripping off your own top as well. Once you’re seated on the couch he sinks to the carpet in front of you, nudging your legs apart to kneel between them and unbutton your pants. Again you’re transfixed by his fingers as he works: the bulging veins that trail across the back of his hand down toward his wrist, his neatly trimmed fingernails. You get so lost in watching the way his knuckles flex that you only belatedly realize what he’s doing once he shimmies your pants down your legs and adjusts his position to press his face between your legs.

“What are you…?”

“I said I was gonna serve you, didn’t I, darling?” Jeonghan finally shrugs his shirt all the way off, revealing an expanse of soft pale skin. But you don’t have time to focus on admiring his body before he leans in close to your inner thigh, his eyes taking in everything in sight with obvious delight.

He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clit through the fabric, and you feel a new wave of slick pooling in response. You don’t even need to see for yourself to know that you’re absolutely soaked. He trails his fingers up your slit, pressing against the fabric to feel your warmth. You’re positive that he can feel your cunt pulsing, leaving two fingers tauntingly between your legs to keep you on edge. When he finally pulls his hand away after teasing you for what feels like hours, the pads of his fingertips are already damp just from touching you through your panties.

Jeonghan hooks a finger around the waistband of your panties on each side of your hips and tugs them away. He moves unbearably slowly to the point where you’re nearly about to start crying and begging him to do something, anything, to you. 

But thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait much longer. Once your lower half is completely naked, he groans at the sight of you and leans in even closer. The tip of his nose brushes against your inner thigh, and his breath is burning hot against your skin as he whispers into you. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this? Dreaming about eating this perfect fucking pussy? How hungry I’ve been for you?”

You moan and let out a hiss, arching your back off the couch as he pushes your legs apart even more forcefully. He still hasn’t done anything yet, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

“Jeonghan!” you whine, scrunching your nose as you concentrate. “Please…”

That smirk returns once again, but it doesn’t linger like it usually does, quickly replaced with a look of desperate lust. “You sound so sexy when you say my name. So much better than I imagined.” He presses his face into your pussy with a pleased sigh, mumbling into your lips. “Wonder if you taste better than I imagined, too.”

And without another second of hesitation, he pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. Instinctively your legs tense and try to close around his head, but his hands are surprisingly strong as he keeps you held open for him to feast on. Jeonghan flattens his tongue against your pussy, curling it to scoop through your folds and collect as much of your slick as he can, then begins to flick it up and down across your clit. If you thought he was good at kissing, then holy fuck, he’s even better at this. Within mere seconds his tongue has you seeing stars, and it’s impossible to keep your mouth shut to stop the endless stream of pathetic noises leaving you.

His hair tickles the top of your stomach as he moves back and forth, and you reach down with one shaking hand to brush it back from his forehead, but it just flops right back down again. He dislodges his mouth from your pussy for long enough to croak out, “Please, baby. Pull my hair. Make me do whatever you want. Wanna make you feel good.”

It takes a minute for his words to register, because he says them in such a whiny, pleading voice that you don’t immediately recognize it as coming from him. You’re so used to the confident, suave voice he uses in public that the man currently devouring your pussy seems like a completely different person. 

You scramble to comply, threading your fingers through his hair and giving his scalp a gentle tug. Instantly his jaw goes slack against your core, letting out a frustrated but very pleased sounding groan. “Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he says, and it’s the last thing you hear before he goes back in for more.

You know you’re done for once he introduces his fingers into the mix. Keeping his lips pursed around your clit, he prods gently at your entrance with his middle and ring finger, shallowly thrusting up to his first knuckle. It takes a few seconds to adjust, but when he feels you relax and loosen up he pushes deeper, until both fingers are fully engulfed inside you. He continues slowly thrusting until he’s satisfied with the lack of resistance, then adds a curling motion each time he pulls his fingers out. If you were a religious woman, you’d swear you were about to meet God.

The stimulation is both too much and not enough at the same time, no matter how desperately you try to rock your hips in rhythm with his tongue. But you can feel it building, getting closer and closer to reaching a peak you can’t come back from, and you know it won’t take much more before you make a mess on his face. As if he knows your orgasms like a sixth sense, his motions become a tiny bit more intense, his tongue pointed more purposefully at your clit and his fingers thrusting just a tiny bit faster. And finally, like a dam breaking loose after a storm, you’re gone.

Your release is loud. Shaking, panting, sweating, and swearing, your hips move on their own to frantically grind against his face in a reckless haze, chasing the high that seems to stretch on and on and on. Jeonghan just sits there and takes it all, sopping up the flood of your slick with his tongue like a starved man as you yank on his hair even harder than before, desperate to keep his mouth in contact with your pussy through the duration of your orgasm. 

After what feels like a full minute of cumming, your clit is still throbbing like crazy, your thighs feel like Jell-O, and your toes are cramping a little, but you would be lying if you said that wasn’t the best head you’ve ever received in your entire life. Man, he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to serve, that’s for sure. It’s way too early to be catching feelings, but all of a sudden there’s a fervent, burning desire in your chest to not let him go. You’ve never admitted to being a jealous person, but the tiny inkling of possessiveness that you feel now mirrors how you’d felt when he showed up to the restaurant last week with someone else.

With legs still trembling you manage to stand up, pulling him up by his shirt collar and shoving him down onto the couch in the same spot you’d just been sitting. Your lower half feels like pure TV static, but you eventually get your knees onto the edge of the cushion and clamber onto the couch, sinking down to straddle your aching pussy over his lap. You slip your hand down between your bodies to palm his bulge, and he rewards you with a loud, choked moan.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you? You want my cock that badly, angel?” 

Jeonghan smirks, and you’re so wound up from the lingering effects of your orgasm that this time you actually do slap him, your hand darting out across his cheek out of instinct. Not hard or meant to hurt him, just a light playful smack, but it’s still enough to make a sound. Immediately your face falls in shock, and you open your mouth to start profusely apologizing for crossing a line. How could you get so caught up in the moment like that? But before you even have a chance to be embarrassed, he just smiles even wider.

He grabs your wrist, which still hovers awkwardly in the air between your bodies, and brings it to his lips to kiss your palm, moaning against your hand. “God, that was hot. Do that again once I’m inside you.” 

His gentle lips tickle your skin, and a shudder runs through your body as he bites playfully. He glances up at you through his lashes, an almost taunting look on his face, and it might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Keeping eye contact you slip your other hand back down to his crotch, fumbling with the button on his pants, and he lets go of your hand to let it join the other so you can undo it faster. All the while he just sits comfortably in his seat, letting you do all the work as he watches, enamored. His head rests against the back of the couch, his neck on full display, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he lets out a little chuckle of satisfaction. He doesn’t even say anything, but his reaction is enough praise to make your cunt pulse, a warm and pleased feeling erupting in your chest from the positive attention.

You finally manage to undo his pants, and wordlessly he lifts his hips to help you push them down past his knees, freeing his hard cock to rest lazily against his stomach. He spreads his legs wider beneath you, sinking deeper into the couch cushions as he slouches down to give you a better angle. The faint grooves of his abs make your mouth water, but as much as you’d like to spend hours running your tongue along every miniscule crevice of his body, there’s more important matters on your agenda right now. Pressing your hands against his chest instead, you rake your nails gently across his skin, and he shivers a little at the feeling as he begins to stroke his cock.

After a few seconds he lets out a shuddering sigh and releases his hand, and his cock stands at attention between your bodies, flushed and strained with need. He moves his hands to your waist, tapping his fingers against you to signal you to sit up. You lift up onto your knees above him and reach beneath you to wrap your hand around him, and he lets out an involuntary little whimper at the contact that makes you smirk. Giving him a couple strokes of your own, you guide the head of his cock between your folds before pushing him inside, both of you groaning in pleasure as you sink down onto his length.

Jeonghan allows you a few seconds to adjust, breathing heavily as that wonderful feeling of fullness washes over you. Without thinking you begin to rock your hips, not moving up and down but simply rolling them forward and backward, grinding against him with his cock buried firmly inside of you. You can feel the tip pressing a little bit deeper with each movement as you start to relax, your walls throbbing and fluttering around him.

For now he’s content to sit back and let you play with him however you want while he lies beneath you, enjoying the view. Each rotation of your hips pushes your chest closer to him, your hard nipples sitting tauntingly at his eye level. You lean forward to hold onto the couch behind him for leverage, pressing your breasts even further into his face, and he smirks up at you in response.

After a minute he lifts his hips a few inches off the couch, experimentally thrusting into you. It’s not much, but it’s still more than enough to take your breath away when you realize how deep he can hit. Your whimper makes him grin as he feels your walls clench around him like a vise, as if trying to pull him in even more.

“Sensitive, hmm?” he coos, though it comes off as more teasing than sincere. You purse your lips into a pout, nodding, but you don’t change your movement. “Still feels good though?”

Instead of replying you lean down and crash your mouth against his once more, starting to lift your hips in a shallow up-and-down motion to test the waters. His cock is still almost all the way buried inside you, only letting an inch slip out before pushing back in, just a hint of extra stimulation.

Your nose is pressed awkwardly into his cheek as you kiss him furiously, but it’s the last thing on your mind as his hands grip your waist more firmly, helping give you a little bit more leverage to continue the slow, rolling movements. His tongue nudges against yours, your lips opening to welcome him.

One thrust hits particularly deep in a particularly sensitive spot deep in your cunt, and you have to pull away quickly for a second to exhale a drawn-out moan before filling your lungs with fresh air. But in that moment, without warning Jeonghan pushes his hips up into the air, bouncing you on his lap, and the force of his thrust cuts off your sound, trailing off into a broken whimper mid-way through. His fingers squeeze your waist harder, digging into your muscles before sliding down to grip your ass for a better angle. It knocks the breath out of you, your core tightening around him.

The rhythm he sets is difficult to keep up with, but luckily for you it doesn’t seem like he expects much effort on your part. All you have to do is sit there on his lap, pliant and relaxed, and let him fuck into you as hard as he wants. His hands supporting your ass are firm, and you can see the strain flexing in his lean biceps as he holds you up. The angle still puts your tits directly in front of his face but he’s staring up into your eyes, his eye contact unflinching as he pants for breath with parted lips.

“Look at you,” he huffs, his voice thick and rough, just loud enough to be heard over the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “So tight. God, you’re so beautiful, riding me just like that. Wanna stay buried in this pussy forever.”

Despite the unfiltered praise he’s giving that makes your stomach twist with butterflies, there’s still that hint of teasing in his words: too genuine to be sarcastic, but at the same time too smug to be completely heartfelt and without ulterior motive. Either way, you can’t deny how good it feels to be worshipped so openly like this, especially by him.

The change in Jeonghan’s attitude doesn’t escape your notice; the way he’s gotten more and more dominant as the night goes on, but somehow at the same time less dominant too. It’s a refreshing change of pace, how naturally your dynamic shifts back and forth at will. His lack of expectations soothes something deep inside you that you weren’t aware needed to be soothed; his easy disposition that lets you take control when you want it and give it back when you don’t. Maybe it’s because he can read you so well, or maybe it’s because he can’t. Either way, his effortless ability to switch between roles is something you didn’t know you were missing in your life, and it makes his actions all the more intense and exciting and unpredictable.

Your throat tightens as you feel the early waves of another orgasm beginning to crash into you, but you can’t get the words out to warn him before one more well-timed thrust sends you hurtling over the edge. You fall forward, catching yourself on his shoulders and gripping him so hard it’s got to hurt, but he says nothing but praises as you cum with your thumbs digging into his collarbone.

“That’s a good girl, keep going. You feel so fucking good, angel. Let me have it, all of it. C’mon— yeah, right there, there you go.”

When the initial shock fades, the high from your second orgasm subsides even more slowly than the first time. You’re still struggling to deal with the effects yourself when Jeonghan frantically pulls you off of his lap, his cock haphazardly recoiling against your stomach as milky white spurts leak from his tip. His eyes are wrenched shut in bliss, his mouth hanging open and his hands squeezing your ass even harder.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of your memory, you make a note that Jeonghan whimpers when he cums. It’s such a beautiful, passionate, strangled sound, and you never want to forget it.

A few moments of silence pass, the room quiet except for the sound of you both heavily panting for breath. Jeonghan finally opens his eyes again, his gaze unfocused for a second before it lands on you, and he breaks out into a smile. A real one this time, not his usual arrogant smirk or teasing grin. He lets out a long, slow, pleased hum and releases his grip on you, sliding to rest on top of your thighs instead.

“Wanna take a shower with me?”

After an hour (maybe a lot longer than an hour…) you’re clean and comfortable and content, both of you lying naked in his bed together. It hadn’t been difficult for him to convince you to stay over for the night and let him spoil you a little more. You’d pretended to be on the fence about whether or not to stay, just to tease him, but his promise to make you breakfast is what had finally won you over.

A half-empty bottle of Dom Perignon rests on the bed between you both, wedged against a couple of pillows. With the sheets messily tossed over your lower half, you balance your glass on your lap as you sit leaned up against the headboard of his bed.

When you’d confessed earlier that you’d never actually tried his favorite brand yourself, despite how often you have to serve it at work, he’d immediately hopped out of the shower to bring you a bottle. His effort was admirable, making a whole show out of uncorking it and pretending to be your waiter, before subsequently spilling most of it on his bathroom floor.

Now, Jeonghan sits propped up on one elbow, holding his own glass of champagne in one hand while resting the other across your hip. You didn’t initially label him as being a touchy-feely kind of guy, but the way he hasn’t let you out of his sight all night has been kind of endearing. Maybe you’re both clingier than you thought.

You sigh, exhausted but relaxed, and take another sip from your flute. “I guess you’re right. This is totally better than the cheap stuff.”

He lets out a tipsy little giggle, grabbing the bottle and pouring the rest of it into your glass to top it off. “I told you, I know my wines. Only the best for you. That’s why I always ordered it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue with him. By now, you believe he really does mean all the cheesy crap he says. He did promise to actually take you on a real date next weekend, not a “stalking you at your workplace” kind of date. Maybe it’s just the champagne talking, but after tonight, his sincerity about has put a warm, fizzy feeling in your stomach. (But then again, that might be the champagne.)

Either way, you’re not denying your feelings anymore, and neither is he.

“Cheers,” he says after a minute of content silence, holding up his glass in front of him. The look in his eyes mirrors your own, something bright and soft and happy that makes your heart flutter.

“What are we cheers-ing to?” you laugh.

“Hm. Well…” He pauses and bites his lip.

It’s been too long since you last kissed him, you think to yourself as you wait for his answer, watching him absently pull his bottom lip between his teeth. You need to change that. 

“To good food and good sex. Both of which you can provide.”

You grin back at him and raise your glass to clink against his. “Sure. To the finer things in life.”

bonus:

© junkissed 2026. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

this is the first fic i've been able to finish after a long hiatus and i'm genuinely so proud of how it turned out, so i truly hope you enjoyed reading!! if you did please reblog with your thoughts, or leave a comment or send an ask! reblogs are legit what makes tumblr work: it shows me that people are interested in this content, and knowing people liked it makes me more inspired to write more! i put a TON of time, love, and effort into my fics, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the reblogs of this post!

@noniestars @wonderfulshinee @onlymingyus @darlingvernon @wonuziex

@enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns

@uwuheeseungie @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @fairybinie @mingminghao

@ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha

@ronnie97b @miriamxsworld @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @cloecard

@valentxi @aaniag @k-drama-adict @crvs4vldtn @aaa-sia

@wondipity @isabellah29 @hanniebub @honglynights @sourkimchi

@kyeomiis @asyre @pan-de-seungcheol @k13endall @knomint

@iamawkwardandshy @sev7nn @todorokiskitten @luvseungcheol @i-like-to-read-at-4am

@lllucere @gyuhao365 @livelaughloveseventeen @hyerangii @smiileflower

“Psst. Hey.”

You don’t hear her the first time. Hissing your name under her breath a second time, Jennie grabs your arm as you walk past with a fresh bucket of ice, pulling you towards the nearest side station.

“Hey! That guy's in your section again.”

You freeze and set the bucket down behind the counter, watching her tilt her head towards the back corner of the restaurant. It’s hard to resist the urge to turn around and stare, but you manage to look nonchalant as you glance over your shoulder, pretending to scan the room. Sure enough, there he is: menu sitting untouched beside his plate, hands folded atop the table, and staring right at you.

Feeling your cheeks begin to burn, you quickly turn back around and busy yourself fidgeting with a stack of rolled-up napkins. You haven’t even talked to him yet, and somehow he still manages to fluster you. Suddenly you’re grateful that your coworker intercepted you, relieved to have at least a few more seconds to pretend to be focused while you have a chance to collect yourself.

“Have you gotten his number yet, girl? Or at least his name? Because I don't think he's gonna stop coming until you do.”

“No,” you tell her sheepishly, risking a discreet glance over your shoulder at him. Still staring. “I could’ve looked at his card when he signed the check, I guess. But that feels kinda invasive. He didn’t offer, so I didn’t ask.” 

She narrows her eyes playfully at you in disapproval. “Oh, come on, he’s been making ‘fuck-me’ eyes at you for weeks. That counts as him offering!” She shifts her weight, her lips pursed into a thin line like she’s thinking hard. “If you don’t wanna ask, then just… write your phone number on the back of his receipt or something. That would be—”

“—Unprofessional,” you finish for her. With a rag you wipe the condensation from the ice bucket, throwing out a glare at her when she huffs at your refusal. “He probably just likes the booth seats. Some people are weird like that, I don't know. I don’t even know if he’s available, either. That’s the more important question here.”

She gives you a doubtful look. “He shows up alone, every Wednesday night, and asks to be seated at the same table. You’re telling me you seriously think it’s because he likes the furniture? Why do you really think that is?”

“Then it’s the privacy, probably.” You shrug and move past her, dumping out the bucket and refilling it with fresh ice. “It’s the farthest away from the bar. Maybe he doesn’t like the noise.”

“Noise?” She scoffs and puts her free hand on her hip, one eyebrow raised as she goes silent for a few seconds. Even at the peak hours of the night there’s little more than a light chatter in the air, mixing with quiet jazz music playing from the building’s speakers. It’s a bullshit reason and you know it. But you aren’t going to give in to her pestering, and she must be able to sense that because she finally sighs and wipes her hand on her waist apron. “Fine. Whatever. But you can’t avoid him forever. Clearly he’s gonna keep showing up to see you.”

You give her a scowl, but she’s right. You totally are avoiding him, but realistically, what does she expect you to do? Ask him to fuck you on the table in the middle of your shift?

She hands you a chilled bottle of champagne, wiping the neck before draping the hand towel over the side of your bucket. Even she’s started to recognize his routine, ready with the bottle of Dom Perignon that he always asks for ahead of his meal, before anyone’s even taken his order yet. “Quit stalling and go over there, before he leaves us a bad review. He could be an undercover food critic or something, and then Joshua would really kill us.”

The threat of your boss throwing a fit over negative publicity is too real, so you glare at her one last time before inhaling a deep breath. You smooth down your apron and grab a folding stand for his drink. When you turn to start toward his table he’s still staring, but he perks up ever so slightly when he recognizes you starting to head in his direction.

As usual, you greet him with a smile and begin setting up the bottle, slicing open the foil and twisting the cage at the top of the champagne bottle to loosen it. And as usual, he sits back and watches, quiet and observant to your every move in a way that makes you more anxious than any other customer you’ve served.

“Hi— er, good evening. I apologize for the wait. We’ve been a little… slammed tonight.”

It would be impossible for him not to notice the fact that half the tables are empty, but to your relief he doesn’t mention it. There’s only one other party in your section right now, and they’ve been chatting over post-dinner coffee for nearly an hour. Compared to the nights when Rêverie is fully booked, your shift has been practically dead.

“That’s alright.” His voice is smooth, a hint of a low drawl to it that always makes you think of syrup for some reason: sweet and thick, with just the right amount of warmth. This man has the kind of voice that people fall asleep to. “I’m a patient guy.”

You try your best to ignore the tension between you, but it continues to build as he orders: a Steak au Poivre with the salad of the day. Something about the way the French names roll easily from his lips just does it for you, apparently. It takes all your energy to focus on keeping a straight face and not doing something to embarrass yourself.

Just as you start to walk away to relay his order to the kitchen, you hear your name in that familiar voice and you freeze, whipping around to face him. He’s sitting up straighter, leaned over the table to get a better view. He gestures to the nametag on your apron, repeating it once more as you look down at it in confusion. “Am I saying that right?”

Warmth burns in the tips of your ears. Why are you suddenly so shy? But deep down you know exactly why, and it’s no use trying to pretend you don’t. It’s because your name sounds so good on his tongue, long and leisurely and sexy. It’s a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing him say again, and again and again and—

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Great. I’ve been here so many times, I figured I should at least know your name by now.” He smiles and gives a small nod, relaxing back into his seat. There’s a mischievous look in his eye, a mix of coy and confident. “I’m Jeonghan.”

For a moment you let his name roll around in your head, attaching itself to your memory. As much as you hate to admit that Jennie was right, it feels good to finally have a name to go with the face that’s been haunting your workplace for weeks.

For the rest of the evening, something in the air feels different. Your glances across the room at his table are met with self-satisfied grins from him, always catching your eye and holding contact for a few seconds longer than he should. You find any excuse to linger at his table, refilling his water glass or bringing him another basket of bread so you can talk with him a little more. You can almost hear your manager Joshua’s voice in your head, scolding you for spending so much time with a customer instead of leaving them alone to enjoy their meal, but Jeonghan clearly doesn’t seem to mind.

“Why don’t you sit and have some champagne? There’s still half a bottle left,” he asks you at one point, patting the booth next to him with a smirk. “Plenty of room here for two.”

You sigh, putting your hand on your hip with a teasing smile, though the idea doesn’t sound as terrible to you as it probably should. “I’m working, Jeonghan. They’d fire me.”

“Fine,” he pouts, though he doesn’t press any further. You’ve begun to notice that while he loves to joke around, there’s a fine line he won’t cross when it comes to being serious. He pushes your buttons, but never to do any actual harm. Still, he winks at you as you grab an empty plate from his table to make yourself look busy. “Next week, then? I might need your opinion on the menu.”

“I’ll still be working next week, too,” you say with a roll of your eyes, but even that doesn’t dissuade him.

“Perfect. Then I’ll see you next week, same time, same place.”

Jeonghan stays far later than he usually does, picking at his food so he has more excuses to talk to you whenever you make your rounds to check on your tables. After a while the late crowd begins to filter in, and reluctantly he takes the hint, signing the check and leaving a much larger tip than he should, nearly equal to the cost of his meal. 

As much as you’d like him to stay and chat all night, there’s other reservations and Joshua would definitely throw a fit if any customers were kept waiting. There are only a few upscale restaurants in town besides Rêverie, and its reputation makes it difficult to get in. Reservations are so sought-after that they have to be booked at least a month in advance. Which means that either Jeonghan has connections that are important enough to pull some strings and get him a table every week, or he’s been booking them himself all this time. Either way, you have to give him a little bit of credit; his dedication is impressive.

When he walks out the door, coat slung over one arm as he waves goodbye, there’s a little nagging feeling in your chest that starts to build. You push it away and try your best to refocus on work, but before you know it, once the emptiness has settled over the night as you finish out your shift, you realize what that feeling is. You miss him. And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

The following Wednesday passes with another fairly quiet shift, so tonight you’re standing at the side station watching as Jeonghan walks through the doors, sneaking glances at him as he follows the hostess to his regular seat. This time you don’t procrastinate, moving away from your spot to take out a chilled bottle of his usual champagne and a fresh bucket of ice.

You try not to stare as you work, quickly setting up everything you need for his evening, but it’s hard not to let your eyes wander in his direction. He’s in a different suit tonight, a three-piece with a sleek vest underneath that makes his dark colored tie stand out.

As soon as he sits down he pulls out his phone, typing quickly before setting it face-down on top of the table. Taking it as your cue, you grab everything and head over to the booth, surprising yourself with how eager you are. It’s been nice, having something at work to look forward to, now that you aren’t denying how fond you’ve grown of Jeonghan.

You unfold the stand and place the bucket on it, positioning a towel as you prepare to uncork it, but he quickly waves his hand in the air to stop you.

“Oh, not tonight. Sorry,” he says. You frown a little from being surprised, but it’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes people want to switch up their routines. But he goes on, shifting in his seat. “I’m expecting company. But you can put everything on my card like usual.”

You freeze, trying not to show how taken aback you are. Company? It’s been nearly two months of this, of him showing up like clockwork every week, but you can’t expect him to not have friends to go out with. Or maybe a business dinner for work. Your ego is a little wounded from not being able to anticipate the change in his habits, but there’s definitely an explanation. Don’t jump to conclusions, you tell yourself.

“Right. My apologies. I shouldn’t have…” You trail off, but quickly cover it with a cough and bring back the friendly smile on your face. “Would you like me to come back when you’re ready to order, then, or should I grab drinks for the table while you wait?”

“We’ll wait to order together,” Jeonghan says assuredly. His phone vibrates on the table, and he picks it up and types something out quickly, not looking up at you again.

You stand there awkwardly for another few seconds before you finally nod and fold the ice bucket stand back up. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll go grab another place setting for you.”

Feeling more reluctant than before, you take the bottle back to the counter, fumbling to quickly collect an extra set of napkins and silverware along with a second menu. You know you shouldn’t have assumed, even if the customer is a regular like Jeonghan, but you still can’t help feeling blindsided. He isn’t acting any different, but something about tonight still feels strangely off.

You’re even more sure of that when you turn around again to start making your way back to his table. A few steps ahead of you, there’s a woman striding towards him: tall, elegant, her hair pulled up into a loose bun with small black strands framing her face like waves. You can’t help but stare; it feels like everything’s happening in slow motion, shell-shocked as you watch her duck down close to him to say something in his ear before she takes her seat across from him. You stand still for a moment, unable to move as he flashes her a wide grin and leans back in his seat. His body language is much more open now, one arm laid over the back of the booth with his legs splayed beneath the table, wide and casual.

It shouldn’t hurt so much—it shouldn’t hurt you at all—but it does. Weeks of shameless flirting, and for what? Was he just staking out restaurants for good date night spots all this time, waiting to find the right place to take his partner? Does that count as cheating, and should you let her know the way he’s been eyeing you up and down for the past couple months has been anything but professional?

You hesitate for just a moment longer as they talk animatedly, and eventually you have to swallow your pride and go interrupt them with the list of tonight’s specials. “Good evening. We’re happy to have you at Rêverie tonight. Can I get you both started with some drinks?”

Your usual monologue comes out stilted and cold, the same way you’ve rehearsed for what feels like hundreds of times every shift. In your peripheral you almost think you see Jeonghan narrow his eyes in a frown, but you keep your gaze directed at his guest so it’s hard to tell for sure. It’s easier to focus on her than to try to meet his eyes, still feeling embarrassed.

If he does notice it, though, then his partner does not, because she replies quickly and easily, ordering plain sparkling water with a friendly smile. Jeonghan does the same, but unlike every other night he’s been here, his voice similarly comes out flatter than normal, using as few words as possible.

After taking their orders and sulking back to your station, you resolve to avoid that end of the restaurant for the rest of the night. You don’t want to risk overhearing their conversation and whatever romantic bullshit they’re probably talking about. You’ve served enough couples in your time working in fine dining to know that they’re the worst type of customers. People think no one notices what they’re getting up to, but the staff are always aware. Whether it’s a first date, an anniversary, a birthday, or some other stupid occasion, no one is ever discreet about what they’re doing.

To make it even worse, your favorite coworkers aren’t here tonight. God, you really wish Jennie was working. She wouldn’t mind running interference for you. She’d understand better than anyone, now that you have a real reason to pretend Jeonghan doesn’t exist.

By the time he and his “date” leave for the night, you’ve made up your mind. No matter how flirty he is, no matter how much chemistry you have with him, from now on you’re going to act like he means nothing to you. It’s for the best, honestly. You should have known better than to get involved with a customer, and this was the warning you needed to get your priorities straight. As nice as he was, whatever was going on between you and Jeonghan is over, starting now.

Most days you look forward to the weekend and the well-needed time off that it offers, but this time you spend most of it anxiously awaiting the coming days. It’s not like you’ve ever particularly loved coming to work, but there’s a newfound sense of dread now that you know you might have to talk to Jeonghan again. At one point in time, the idea of seeing him almost would have excited you, but not anymore. Not after last week’s embarrassment.

When you get to Rêverie on Wednesday for your shift, you try to get lost in your work, making way more trips back to the kitchen than necessary. You know you’re lingering too much and probably getting in the way of the chef team, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from watching the clock, counting down the hours.

Still, nothing you do stops Jeonghan from arriving at his usual time and requesting to be seated at his usual table. Across the room you can see him arguing with the maître d', a new hire that’s barely finished her training, who timidly tries to explain that she isn’t allowed to do that. You haven’t had very many conversations with Mina yet, but you’ve gotta hand it to her, she’s been dedicated to the house rules. It’s just too bad that there isn’t any rule against customers making requests, no matter how annoying they are.

Before you can do anything to help her out Jennie appears at her side, empty tray in hand, and whispers something in her ear before pointing to the booth in your section. She nods, bowing slightly to Jeonghan and reluctantly leading him to the back corner of the restaurant.

Damn. And you’d almost thought that you might get out of this unscathed after all.

He’s alone again, but it’s hard to tell just from a first glance whether he’s expecting company again or not. You’re tempted to feign sick and beg Jennie to take over your section for the rest of the night, but you couldn’t do that to her. She’s busy enough with the tables in her own section. And besides, she’d just end up convincing you to go talk to him anyway, and you’re not in the mood for another pep-talk.

Mentally preparing yourself, you leave the bottle behind this time as you make your best attempt to walk over to his table with your head held high. The rejection from last week still stings a little, and you’re not eager to repeat the encounter by bringing along something unwanted for a second time.

As usual he greets you with a smile, and as usual your stomach fills with butterflies, despite your best efforts to push them down. This little crush on him you’ve developed clearly isn’t going to lead anywhere, you remind yourself. After so many weeks of seeing each other it’s hard to ignore the instinct to crack jokes, flirting at every opportunity, but the air feels different now. You just need to accept that you read the situation wrong, you made a mistake, and it’s time to move on. It’s better to be professional, anyway. Flirting too much with a customer is dangerous in the long run. It’s not worth losing your job over him.

Before you can even think about starting your customer service script, Jeonghan speaks right away, leaving you no room to skirt around the issue. “Why are you ignoring me?”

His voice is smooth like you’re used to, that low sound from deep in his throat that always makes you feel special for some reason, like he’s talking to you and only you. Chewing on your lip, you have to remind yourself that that’s not true. It never was.

In a split second, you have to decide whether to play along with your faux-friendly waiter voice or confront him, but the importance of keeping your job prevents you from doing the latter. Making a scene in public is the last thing you need, on top of everything else. Instead, you internally give yourself permission to be as passive aggressive as you want to him. You’re fairly good at letting it roll right off your back, but working in this industry sometimes you need more than a friendly smile and a good attitude. No, this is the attitude you usually save for rude, entitled, spoiled, rich, bratty assho— well, er, difficult customers. Either way, right now Jeonghan is being one of those “difficult customers”.

So you plaster on an even brighter, even faker smile and stand up straight, your hands folded formally behind your back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. Shall we start with drinks, or are we still waiting for the rest of our party to arrive?” That last line is spiteful and comes out more snarky than you mean it to, but you can’t lie that it doesn’t feel good to say, not after the roller coaster of emotions he’s put you through.

“Right.” Jeonghan sighs and nods once, as if he finally understands. At least he has the decency to look a little wounded at your words, but you know by now that it’s an act. “I guess I deserved that.”

He pauses for a second like he’s debating his next words. “No,” he answers finally, tilting his head back to look up at you. God, those eyes. Your stomach flips at the sight of his bashful face, faintly hidden behind his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m here alone. Last week…” he lets out another long sigh as he pauses. Does he think it’s amusing to have to explain this to you? You want to slap him right across his gorgeous, perfect face.

“That was my boss. She’s retiring. Last week—Wednesday—was her last day, and I’m taking over her position at the company. So we had dinner to celebrate.” He glances down at the table, and if you didn’t know any better you might almost think he was being sheepish. “And she’s happily married, by the way. To her wife. Not me.”

“Oh.”

After a few seconds of silence you realize how dumb you sound, standing there taking in this news. Come on! All you have to say for yourself is ‘oh’? But his explanation actually makes sense, and his honesty catches you so off guard that you can’t think of any other reply.

If he’s humored by your reaction, he doesn’t show it. In fact, the next words out of his mouth are the last thing you’re expecting to hear. “Look, I get how it probably seemed, and that’s my fault. I wasn’t planning on taking her here, but she’d never been and she’d heard me rave about the food so many times before, so…” Jeonghan exhales, nostrils flaring a little bit as he trails off. “I’m sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t trying to give you the wrong impression.”

“And what impression is that?” FInally getting control of your tongue again, you fold your arms over your chest as you stare down at him. A small part of you is proud of yourself, for managing to recover and string together a coherent reply. But deep down, his apology is appreciated. It’s not every day that a man in your life accepts blame, especially when he’s the one who’s been leading you on.

“The impression that I’m not single. And not wondering if you are, too.”

You nearly choke, struggling to process what he’s just said. The worst part is the sincerity in his gaze as he looks at you, how he meets your eyes and doesn’t back down, as if challenging you to keep denying your feelings for him. It’s the most forward he’s ever been in all the times he’s come here, a buildup of weeks of flirtation and shy back-and-forth. The confidence with which he finally acknowledges it, out loud and explicit, gives you a rush you’ve never felt before.

He just continues to sit there staring up at you, waiting expectantly, and suddenly you realize you’ve been silent for way too long. What do you even say to follow up to that? 

Afraid of getting too far ahead of yourself, you shift your weight, arms still crossed defensively. “So then what’s the reason you keep coming here so often? The food, or me?”

“Both.” He smirks, pleased with his answer when you pretend to frown at him. “But mostly you. There’s any number of fancy places I could throw money away at in this city, but there’s only one that has you.”

And just like that, you feel yourself melting. It’s a cheesy, overused line, but somehow coming from his mouth it works. It should be studied, the way his voice makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What is it you want? Besides annoying me every Wednesday night.”

“Well, first of all, I’d like to order my dinner. Still a paying customer, after all.” There’s that grin again, the one that makes you want to strangle him to death and then kiss him afterward. “But I wanna see you after your shift tonight, if you’d let me. Maybe go somewhere. Dessert’s on me.”

You sigh, checking your wristwatch. “I don’t get off for another… three and a half hours. You aren’t really gonna wait here that long, are you?”

“I’d wait forever for you, beautiful. Told you I was a patient guy.”

You pretend to make a gagging sound, but he only grins at your reaction. You have to admit, he’s kind of endearing. “We have other customers, you know. You’re taking up space.”

“I’ll leave a nice tip, don’t worry,” he chuckles, not a bit offended. “Maybe I’ll demand to see the manager so I can tell them how good the service was. Do you think that’d win me some points?”

“Alright, alright! I’ll decide whether I’m feeling up to it or not once I get off. I’ve been here all day already. That’s all I’m gonna promise.”

Jeonghan flashes a smug smile as he crosses his arms, a casual gesture, but it emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders. “I’ll take what I can get.” He gestures with his head, nodding towards another party a few tables away who are making it extremely obvious that they’re looking for somebody to give them a drink refill. “Hey, go finish your shift. Just don’t forget about me.” 

You roll your eyes, but he shoots you a wink as you walk away. As you turn towards the next table, you prepare your customer-service voice once more, but inside you couldn’t be happier with the way things played out. Well, maybe if he had tried to make a move sooner then it would’ve saved you a weekend of heartbreak, but you have to admit that you’re partially at fault for not saying something earlier too.

As promised, three hours later Jeonghan remains glued to his seat, nursing a cup of coffee.

The rest of the evening seemed to fly by, without any problems — except for the strange looks from your coworkers, and the new maître d' who’d asked a couple times if you wanted her to find Joshua for help getting rid of the guy, thinking he was harassing you. It was a fair assumption, especially considering how many times he’d waved you over to his table to chat with him it might as well be harassment, but you assured her you didn’t need help.

Finally you finish checking out the last party in your section, and you’ve never been more grateful not to be closing tonight. If you had to do all your regular work on top of cleaning and sweeping and helping prep for tomorrow then there’d be no chance of you having enough energy to meet Jeonghan afterwards, but whoever had created the schedule this week must’ve been on your side. Jennie’s the one working the closing shift for tonight, so you make a mental note to text her later to fill her in.

Making eye contact with him from across the room, you look at your watch and then tip your head towards the exit, and he scrambles to stand up, shrugging on his coat. You disappear through the doors marked ‘employees only’ for a moment to grab your belongings, balling up your apron and throwing your purse over your shoulder. When you re-emerge you find him waiting at the entryway of the restaurant, resting his arm on the counter as he chats with Mina. You wave and give her a brief good night, and her eyes dart to Jeonghan for a second before returning the goodbye, a subtle pink creeping into her cheeks.

Though the restaurant is still open for a few more hours, the parking lot is sparse at this hour and it doesn’t take long to find your car. Jeonghan walks with you, standing beside your parking spot with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

“So were you thinking your place, or mine?”

You turn and scoff at him, raising an eyebrow as you begin to fish around in your purse for your keys. “I never agreed to that. I don’t sleep around on the first date.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Who says this is our first date? In fact, this is our…” He counts on his fingers one by one, tallying them off as he speaks. “… ninth. The first date I had pork belly, the second one I had the seafood platter, then the third one—”

You smack his arm. “You call that a date? I don’t think it counts as taking me out to dinner if I’m the one serving it to you.”

“Then let me serve you this time.” He grins mischievously, his eyes darkened with lust. “Is that fair enough?” His hands settle on your waist, and the weight of his touch makes you shiver.

“Only if you promise to take me on a real date next time.”

“I’ll take that deal.” He grins. “Actually, I was going to wait to ask you out until I’d tried the whole menu. Just to make sure I took you somewhere that was up to your standards. Since you’re the food expert here.”

You snort. “Well then, no wonder it took you three months to do something. We do have a pretty big menu.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth, making a thoughtful little sound. “You know, there’s still something I haven’t tried yet…”

His eyes remain fixed on you, but there’s something darker in his gaze as he stares deep into your eyes and slips his hand behind the base of your neck, intentionally slow to give you a chance to push him away. When you don’t move, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a satisfied smirk, and he finally closes the distance and presses his lips against yours. Reciprocating comes naturally to you, and you easily adapt to welcome his kiss, lips moving together in tandem with his.

You feel the pressure from his fingertips increase as he grips your head a little harder, guiding you against him and pulling you in closer. With a little gasp you finally wrap your arms around his body, and you feel him smile into the kiss at your touch. You can tell from the way he devours you how experienced he is and how cocky that makes him, and although the last thing you want to do is stroke his ego, he’s admittedly really good at it. The way he takes control is effortless, dominating the kiss and moving you in exactly the way that makes you feel good without even having to think about it yourself.

His hand on the back of your neck adjusts to explore your head, and you kiss him deeper as his fingers start to trail upwards to tangle in your hair. When his nails dig into your scalp and you let out a whimper into his mouth, he reluctantly pulls back to let you breathe for a second, but you quickly shake your head and try to chase his lips. “More—”

“More?” He quirks up an eyebrow tauntingly, and it’s so attractive it makes you want to smack him again. If this were anyone else you wouldn’t change your mind so quickly, but you’ve been holding back from him for so long that you don’t care even if it breaks your made-up dating rules. “Mm… I see. Well then, if that’s the case, are you really gonna make me ask again?” He pauses, watching the confusion register on your face as he looks on with raw, burning pleasure. “Don’t deny yourself. Answer me this time, darling. Your place or mine?”

“Whatever you want, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” You swallow thickly as you wipe at your bottom lip with your thumb, a futile attempt to fix your lipstick that you’re certain is now smudged beyond repair. Slowly your senses return to you, and you remember where you are: pressed against the side door of your car under a streetlamp. “Wait, but— my car…”

He points to the only other car nearby, a little black Corvette parked sitting quietly across the lot. You’d never thought to wonder what kind of car he drives, but somehow you aren’t surprised. The model seems to fit him. “We could take mine tonight. I’ll drive you back here to pick yours up tomorrow.”

You scoff, but it doesn’t have as much bite in it as it did before. “Tomorrow? You seem pretty confident that you’re getting laid.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a cocky little smile. “I don’t like to be indirect with what I want. Waste of time, in my opinion. You know what I’m asking. If you want to dance around it, I’m not going to force you.” Jeonghan takes a step back from your car, but there’s a hint of smugness in his expression that says he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. “You know what? I’m sure you’ve had a busy evening, working on your feet all night. You should go home. I won’t keep you.”

He takes another half step backwards, and before you can stop yourself a pathetic little whimper tears from your throat as you move to follow him. It instantly makes you cringe how needy you sound, but he seems to only take satisfaction from your reaction as your hand shoots out to grab his wrist. “No. Hold on. I…” 

You sigh, finally admitting defeat. Teasing and dropping subtle hints has always been your style, but he’s managed to break you down and have you begging for him in the span of a few hours. It frustrates you to no end, but it’s also kind of turning you on. This clingy, desperate feeling in your chest is new to you, almost queasy from how badly you want more of his attention. 

You’ve never felt this way with your past relationships, always coming to an end too soon because of how quickly your attachment faded. The red-flag alarm in your head should probably be screaming at you right now, but the nonchalant way he brushes you off and the simultaneous determination in his gaze only makes your heart flutter. He doesn’t hide that he wants you — the look in his eyes alone is enough to tell you that — but at the same time he acts like he couldn’t care less whether you reciprocate or not. And something about that works for you.

Something deep inside, something primal in you, wants him to care. You need him to crave you; you want to make him beg, too. You want to fluster him so bad that he caves, like you did, and just gives in and takes what he so clearly desires. The embarrassment from your own reaction has faded into something more passionate, a competitive yearning to make him feel this pathetic, depraved desperation the way you do. He may think he’s winning, but you’re not going to be satisfied until you’re not the only loser in this game.

His expression is still as smug as ever, but he stands there patient as promised, waiting with your fingers wrapped around his wrist. It’s a strange feeling to swallow your pride and go along with his games, but you’re sure that if you play your cards right this night will go the way you want.

You clear your throat and ease your hand away from his arm, though it pains you a little to let go of him. His skin is soft under your fingertips, with subtle hints of firm muscle hidden by his lanky frame, and you want to keep touching him. You need to keep touching him, to explore every inch of his body and find all of his pressure points, to discover every spot that makes him weak and—

“Did you want to say something?” Jeonghan coaxes, cutting off your rapidly derailing train of thought, and even though he pisses you off you’re grateful for the snap back to reality.

“Yeah,” you finally manage, and force your gaze upward to meet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes that you’ve found staring at you from across the restaurant, week after week. In public he was always subdued, a little flirtatious but always respectful, lingering only just long enough to make sure you noticed but never anything more. But the look in his eyes now is completely different, like he wants you to start tearing his clothes off right here in the parking lot. Pursing your lips, you give him a smirk of your own, and you relish in the way his gaze darkens in response.

“How close is your place?”

Before the door of his penthouse is even fully shut, you’re shoving Jeonghan backwards against his kitchen counter as your lips connect again, your moans mixing together and echoing off the walls throughout the wide open room.

“Oh, I like this.” He flashes a toothy grin before diving back in, equally as passionate. That smirk again; you swear, if he gives you that stupid cocky look one more time, you might slap him. But then his slender fingers cup your chin to draw you closer to his mouth, and the light pressure of his fingertips on your cheeks makes your head spin, making you forget all about how easily he manages to get under your skin. For a split second the thought occurs that those hands would probably look gorgeous wrapped around your throat, but your brain is moving about a million miles per minute and it isn’t long before another, hornier thought replaces it.

You barely even notice him leading you out of the kitchen, step by step pulling you with him into the living room, until you feel your calves hit the back of something firm. You break away just for a moment to look down at his couch, and he gently presses down on your shoulders to guide you to sit.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and you take the hint and quickly begin stripping off your own top as well. Once you’re seated on the couch he sinks to the carpet in front of you, nudging your legs apart to kneel between them and unbutton your pants. Again you’re transfixed by his fingers as he works: the bulging veins that trail across the back of his hand down toward his wrist, his neatly trimmed fingernails. You get so lost in watching the way his knuckles flex that you only belatedly realize what he’s doing once he shimmies your pants down your legs and adjusts his position to press his face between your legs.

“What are you…?”

“I said I was gonna serve you, didn’t I, darling?” Jeonghan finally shrugs his shirt all the way off, revealing an expanse of soft pale skin. But you don’t have time to focus on admiring his body before he leans in close to your inner thigh, his eyes taking in everything in sight with obvious delight.

He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clit through the fabric, and you feel a new wave of slick pooling in response. You don’t even need to see for yourself to know that you’re absolutely soaked. He trails his fingers up your slit, pressing against the fabric to feel your warmth. You’re positive that he can feel your cunt pulsing, leaving two fingers tauntingly between your legs to keep you on edge. When he finally pulls his hand away after teasing you for what feels like hours, the pads of his fingertips are already damp just from touching you through your panties.

Jeonghan hooks a finger around the waistband of your panties on each side of your hips and tugs them away. He moves unbearably slowly to the point where you’re nearly about to start crying and begging him to do something, anything, to you. 

But thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait much longer. Once your lower half is completely naked, he groans at the sight of you and leans in even closer. The tip of his nose brushes against your inner thigh, and his breath is burning hot against your skin as he whispers into you. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this? Dreaming about eating this perfect fucking pussy? How hungry I’ve been for you?”

You moan and let out a hiss, arching your back off the couch as he pushes your legs apart even more forcefully. He still hasn’t done anything yet, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

“Jeonghan!” you whine, scrunching your nose as you concentrate. “Please…”

That smirk returns once again, but it doesn’t linger like it usually does, quickly replaced with a look of desperate lust. “You sound so sexy when you say my name. So much better than I imagined.” He presses his face into your pussy with a pleased sigh, mumbling into your lips. “Wonder if you taste better than I imagined, too.”

And without another second of hesitation, he pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. Instinctively your legs tense and try to close around his head, but his hands are surprisingly strong as he keeps you held open for him to feast on. Jeonghan flattens his tongue against your pussy, curling it to scoop through your folds and collect as much of your slick as he can, then begins to flick it up and down across your clit. If you thought he was good at kissing, then holy fuck, he’s even better at this. Within mere seconds his tongue has you seeing stars, and it’s impossible to keep your mouth shut to stop the endless stream of pathetic noises leaving you.

His hair tickles the top of your stomach as he moves back and forth, and you reach down with one shaking hand to brush it back from his forehead, but it just flops right back down again. He dislodges his mouth from your pussy for long enough to croak out, “Please, baby. Pull my hair. Make me do whatever you want. Wanna make you feel good.”

It takes a minute for his words to register, because he says them in such a whiny, pleading voice that you don’t immediately recognize it as coming from him. You’re so used to the confident, suave voice he uses in public that the man currently devouring your pussy seems like a completely different person. 

You scramble to comply, threading your fingers through his hair and giving his scalp a gentle tug. Instantly his jaw goes slack against your core, letting out a frustrated but very pleased sounding groan. “Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he says, and it’s the last thing you hear before he goes back in for more.

You know you’re done for once he introduces his fingers into the mix. Keeping his lips pursed around your clit, he prods gently at your entrance with his middle and ring finger, shallowly thrusting up to his first knuckle. It takes a few seconds to adjust, but when he feels you relax and loosen up he pushes deeper, until both fingers are fully engulfed inside you. He continues slowly thrusting until he’s satisfied with the lack of resistance, then adds a curling motion each time he pulls his fingers out. If you were a religious woman, you’d swear you were about to meet God.

The stimulation is both too much and not enough at the same time, no matter how desperately you try to rock your hips in rhythm with his tongue. But you can feel it building, getting closer and closer to reaching a peak you can’t come back from, and you know it won’t take much more before you make a mess on his face. As if he knows your orgasms like a sixth sense, his motions become a tiny bit more intense, his tongue pointed more purposefully at your clit and his fingers thrusting just a tiny bit faster. And finally, like a dam breaking loose after a storm, you’re gone.

Your release is loud. Shaking, panting, sweating, and swearing, your hips move on their own to frantically grind against his face in a reckless haze, chasing the high that seems to stretch on and on and on. Jeonghan just sits there and takes it all, sopping up the flood of your slick with his tongue like a starved man as you yank on his hair even harder than before, desperate to keep his mouth in contact with your pussy through the duration of your orgasm. 

After what feels like a full minute of cumming, your clit is still throbbing like crazy, your thighs feel like Jell-O, and your toes are cramping a little, but you would be lying if you said that wasn’t the best head you’ve ever received in your entire life. Man, he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to serve, that’s for sure. It’s way too early to be catching feelings, but all of a sudden there’s a fervent, burning desire in your chest to not let him go. You’ve never admitted to being a jealous person, but the tiny inkling of possessiveness that you feel now mirrors how you’d felt when he showed up to the restaurant last week with someone else.

With legs still trembling you manage to stand up, pulling him up by his shirt collar and shoving him down onto the couch in the same spot you’d just been sitting. Your lower half feels like pure TV static, but you eventually get your knees onto the edge of the cushion and clamber onto the couch, sinking down to straddle your aching pussy over his lap. You slip your hand down between your bodies to palm his bulge, and he rewards you with a loud, choked moan.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you? You want my cock that badly, angel?” 

Jeonghan smirks, and you’re so wound up from the lingering effects of your orgasm that this time you actually do slap him, your hand darting out across his cheek out of instinct. Not hard or meant to hurt him, just a light playful smack, but it’s still enough to make a sound. Immediately your face falls in shock, and you open your mouth to start profusely apologizing for crossing a line. How could you get so caught up in the moment like that? But before you even have a chance to be embarrassed, he just smiles even wider.

He grabs your wrist, which still hovers awkwardly in the air between your bodies, and brings it to his lips to kiss your palm, moaning against your hand. “God, that was hot. Do that again once I’m inside you.” 

His gentle lips tickle your skin, and a shudder runs through your body as he bites playfully. He glances up at you through his lashes, an almost taunting look on his face, and it might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Keeping eye contact you slip your other hand back down to his crotch, fumbling with the button on his pants, and he lets go of your hand to let it join the other so you can undo it faster. All the while he just sits comfortably in his seat, letting you do all the work as he watches, enamored. His head rests against the back of the couch, his neck on full display, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he lets out a little chuckle of satisfaction. He doesn’t even say anything, but his reaction is enough praise to make your cunt pulse, a warm and pleased feeling erupting in your chest from the positive attention.

You finally manage to undo his pants, and wordlessly he lifts his hips to help you push them down past his knees, freeing his hard cock to rest lazily against his stomach. He spreads his legs wider beneath you, sinking deeper into the couch cushions as he slouches down to give you a better angle. The faint grooves of his abs make your mouth water, but as much as you’d like to spend hours running your tongue along every miniscule crevice of his body, there’s more important matters on your agenda right now. Pressing your hands against his chest instead, you rake your nails gently across his skin, and he shivers a little at the feeling as he begins to stroke his cock.

After a few seconds he lets out a shuddering sigh and releases his hand, and his cock stands at attention between your bodies, flushed and strained with need. He moves his hands to your waist, tapping his fingers against you to signal you to sit up. You lift up onto your knees above him and reach beneath you to wrap your hand around him, and he lets out an involuntary little whimper at the contact that makes you smirk. Giving him a couple strokes of your own, you guide the head of his cock between your folds before pushing him inside, both of you groaning in pleasure as you sink down onto his length.

Jeonghan allows you a few seconds to adjust, breathing heavily as that wonderful feeling of fullness washes over you. Without thinking you begin to rock your hips, not moving up and down but simply rolling them forward and backward, grinding against him with his cock buried firmly inside of you. You can feel the tip pressing a little bit deeper with each movement as you start to relax, your walls throbbing and fluttering around him.

For now he’s content to sit back and let you play with him however you want while he lies beneath you, enjoying the view. Each rotation of your hips pushes your chest closer to him, your hard nipples sitting tauntingly at his eye level. You lean forward to hold onto the couch behind him for leverage, pressing your breasts even further into his face, and he smirks up at you in response.

After a minute he lifts his hips a few inches off the couch, experimentally thrusting into you. It’s not much, but it’s still more than enough to take your breath away when you realize how deep he can hit. Your whimper makes him grin as he feels your walls clench around him like a vise, as if trying to pull him in even more.

“Sensitive, hmm?” he coos, though it comes off as more teasing than sincere. You purse your lips into a pout, nodding, but you don’t change your movement. “Still feels good though?”

Instead of replying you lean down and crash your mouth against his once more, starting to lift your hips in a shallow up-and-down motion to test the waters. His cock is still almost all the way buried inside you, only letting an inch slip out before pushing back in, just a hint of extra stimulation.

Your nose is pressed awkwardly into his cheek as you kiss him furiously, but it’s the last thing on your mind as his hands grip your waist more firmly, helping give you a little bit more leverage to continue the slow, rolling movements. His tongue nudges against yours, your lips opening to welcome him.

One thrust hits particularly deep in a particularly sensitive spot deep in your cunt, and you have to pull away quickly for a second to exhale a drawn-out moan before filling your lungs with fresh air. But in that moment, without warning Jeonghan pushes his hips up into the air, bouncing you on his lap, and the force of his thrust cuts off your sound, trailing off into a broken whimper mid-way through. His fingers squeeze your waist harder, digging into your muscles before sliding down to grip your ass for a better angle. It knocks the breath out of you, your core tightening around him.

The rhythm he sets is difficult to keep up with, but luckily for you it doesn’t seem like he expects much effort on your part. All you have to do is sit there on his lap, pliant and relaxed, and let him fuck into you as hard as he wants. His hands supporting your ass are firm, and you can see the strain flexing in his lean biceps as he holds you up. The angle still puts your tits directly in front of his face but he’s staring up into your eyes, his eye contact unflinching as he pants for breath with parted lips.

“Look at you,” he huffs, his voice thick and rough, just loud enough to be heard over the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “So tight. God, you’re so beautiful, riding me just like that. Wanna stay buried in this pussy forever.”

Despite the unfiltered praise he’s giving that makes your stomach twist with butterflies, there’s still that hint of teasing in his words: too genuine to be sarcastic, but at the same time too smug to be completely heartfelt and without ulterior motive. Either way, you can’t deny how good it feels to be worshipped so openly like this, especially by him.

The change in Jeonghan’s attitude doesn’t escape your notice; the way he’s gotten more and more dominant as the night goes on, but somehow at the same time less dominant too. It’s a refreshing change of pace, how naturally your dynamic shifts back and forth at will. His lack of expectations soothes something deep inside you that you weren’t aware needed to be soothed; his easy disposition that lets you take control when you want it and give it back when you don’t. Maybe it’s because he can read you so well, or maybe it’s because he can’t. Either way, his effortless ability to switch between roles is something you didn’t know you were missing in your life, and it makes his actions all the more intense and exciting and unpredictable.

Your throat tightens as you feel the early waves of another orgasm beginning to crash into you, but you can’t get the words out to warn him before one more well-timed thrust sends you hurtling over the edge. You fall forward, catching yourself on his shoulders and gripping him so hard it’s got to hurt, but he says nothing but praises as you cum with your thumbs digging into his collarbone.

“That’s a good girl, keep going. You feel so fucking good, angel. Let me have it, all of it. C’mon— yeah, right there, there you go.”

When the initial shock fades, the high from your second orgasm subsides even more slowly than the first time. You’re still struggling to deal with the effects yourself when Jeonghan frantically pulls you off of his lap, his cock haphazardly recoiling against your stomach as milky white spurts leak from his tip. His eyes are wrenched shut in bliss, his mouth hanging open and his hands squeezing your ass even harder.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of your memory, you make a note that Jeonghan whimpers when he cums. It’s such a beautiful, passionate, strangled sound, and you never want to forget it.

A few moments of silence pass, the room quiet except for the sound of you both heavily panting for breath. Jeonghan finally opens his eyes again, his gaze unfocused for a second before it lands on you, and he breaks out into a smile. A real one this time, not his usual arrogant smirk or teasing grin. He lets out a long, slow, pleased hum and releases his grip on you, sliding to rest on top of your thighs instead.

“Wanna take a shower with me?”

After an hour (maybe a lot longer than an hour…) you’re clean and comfortable and content, both of you lying naked in his bed together. It hadn’t been difficult for him to convince you to stay over for the night and let him spoil you a little more. You’d pretended to be on the fence about whether or not to stay, just to tease him, but his promise to make you breakfast is what had finally won you over.

A half-empty bottle of Dom Perignon rests on the bed between you both, wedged against a couple of pillows. With the sheets messily tossed over your lower half, you balance your glass on your lap as you sit leaned up against the headboard of his bed.

When you’d confessed earlier that you’d never actually tried his favorite brand yourself, despite how often you have to serve it at work, he’d immediately hopped out of the shower to bring you a bottle. His effort was admirable, making a whole show out of uncorking it and pretending to be your waiter, before subsequently spilling most of it on his bathroom floor.

Now, Jeonghan sits propped up on one elbow, holding his own glass of champagne in one hand while resting the other across your hip. You didn’t initially label him as being a touchy-feely kind of guy, but the way he hasn’t let you out of his sight all night has been kind of endearing. Maybe you’re both clingier than you thought.

You sigh, exhausted but relaxed, and take another sip from your flute. “I guess you’re right. This is totally better than the cheap stuff.”

He lets out a tipsy little giggle, grabbing the bottle and pouring the rest of it into your glass to top it off. “I told you, I know my wines. Only the best for you. That’s why I always ordered it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue with him. By now, you believe he really does mean all the cheesy crap he says. He did promise to actually take you on a real date next weekend, not a “stalking you at your workplace” kind of date. Maybe it’s just the champagne talking, but after tonight, his sincerity about has put a warm, fizzy feeling in your stomach. (But then again, that might be the champagne.)

Either way, you’re not denying your feelings anymore, and neither is he.

“Cheers,” he says after a minute of content silence, holding up his glass in front of him. The look in his eyes mirrors your own, something bright and soft and happy that makes your heart flutter.

“What are we cheers-ing to?” you laugh.

“Hm. Well…” He pauses and bites his lip.

It’s been too long since you last kissed him, you think to yourself as you wait for his answer, watching him absently pull his bottom lip between his teeth. You need to change that. 

“To good food and good sex. Both of which you can provide.”

You grin back at him and raise your glass to clink against his. “Sure. To the finer things in life.”

bonus:

© junkissed 2026. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

this is the first fic i've been able to finish after a long hiatus and i'm genuinely so proud of how it turned out, so i truly hope you enjoyed reading!! if you did please reblog with your thoughts, or leave a comment or send an ask! reblogs are legit what makes tumblr work: it shows me that people are interested in this content, and knowing people liked it makes me more inspired to write more! i put a TON of time, love, and effort into my fics, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the reblogs of this post!

@noniestars @wonderfulshinee @onlymingyus @darlingvernon @wonuziex

@enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns

@uwuheeseungie @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @fairybinie @mingminghao

@ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha

@ronnie97b @miriamxsworld @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @cloecard

@valentxi @aaniag @k-drama-adict @crvs4vldtn @aaa-sia

@wondipity @isabellah29 @hanniebub @honglynights @sourkimchi

@kyeomiis @asyre @pan-de-seungcheol @k13endall @knomint

@iamawkwardandshy @sev7nn @todorokiskitten @luvseungcheol @i-like-to-read-at-4am

@lllucere @gyuhao365 @livelaughloveseventeen @hyerangii @smiileflower

a bell rings cheerily above your head as you walk into the store.

on the outside, it looks like any other toy store, but the second you open the door you know there’s something special about this place. stepping inside is like stepping into a whole new world. the walls are decorated in colorful murals, shelves, and artwork from kids.

“can i help you find something?” a voice asks.

you turn to see a man wearing an apron, holding a stack of board games under one arm.

“i’m jeonghan,” he smiles. “i own the store.”

you don’t know why, but for some reason you feel the need to introduce yourself. you’ve only just met this man, but you have a sense that he’s… important.

“nice to meet you,” he says, shaking your hand.

you look around. you’ve come in before your shift, so it’s still early; not many people around. “if you own the store… then, who’s angel?” you ask.

“hm? oh!” he laughs. “no, it’s not ‘angel’ like somebody’s name. it’s angel, like, actual angels.”

suddenly the crayon halos on the drawings by the register make a lot more sense. “that’s cute,” you smile. “must bring in a lot of people during christmastime, right?”

“it’s a magical time of year,” he agrees with a wink, “you never know what might happen. so what are you here for? what kind of magic can i get you?”

you pause. “well, i need to get something nice for the little girl i babysit. she’s, um… she’s just gotten out of the hospital,” you say, trying to find the right words to describe the situation. “she’s been through a lot this year.”

your friend’s daughter was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer a year ago, and after months of chemo and many surgeries, she’s finally cancer-free, just in time for the holidays. so of course, this christmas will be extra special, and you can’t disappoint her.

jeonghan nods, lost in thought. “you know, i think she would love this,” he says suddenly, turning down an aisle and waving for you to follow him. “it’s a new item, we haven’t put them out on display yet, but it’d be great for her!”

the way he talks as if he knows the little girl throws you off a little, but you brush it off as him just being passionate about his job.

he pulls out a kit from a large box, clearly waiting to be loaded onto the shelves. it’s a doll set themed like a doctor, complete with little bandages and a stethoscope and everything you could want if you were a child obsessed with

“it’d be perfect for her,” he beams, handing it to you. how he knows it’s perfect, you have no clue, but it does seem like just the thing for her.

“i’ll take it,” you smile, following him to the register.

the next day you’re picking up your morning latte from the coffee shop on your way to work when you spot a familiar head of blond hair waiting at a table near the entrance.

“hey! jeonghan, right?” you ask, and he lifts his head from his book.

his face brightens, and he greets you by your name. “hi, yeah! good morning!”

you motion to the empty seat across from him at the table. “are you waiting for someone?”

“not anymore,” he says, flashing a smile. he slides a colorful bookmark in between the pages of his book, and you notice the scribbled design, clearly made by a child. he sweeps his arm out, motioning for you to sit. “are you rushing off anywhere?”

you pull out the chair and set your bag by your feet. “kind of, but i can spare a few minutes,” you giggle.

you notice his outfit, much more professional than the last time you saw him at the store. “how about you? going somewhere fancy this morning?” you ask with a laugh. “a date, perhaps?”

he laughs. “no, no dates. just work.”

you frown in confusion. “do you– always wear a suit to sell toys? i mean, you look great, but i’m sure the kids don’t care what you wear–”

he laughs at your misunderstanding. “ah, not that work,” he says. “the shop is more of a… side project,” he explains with a chuckle. “the rest of the time i’m a pediatric oncologist. children’s cancer doctor.”

“oh, wow!” your eyes widen. there were a lot of assumptions you’d made about jeonghan in the short time you’d known him, but being a doctor was definitely not one of them. “that’s… wow, that’s impressive. and you run the toy store, too?”

he nods. “the toys in the gift shop at the hospital weren’t very… good for kids,” he says. “so i guess you could say it’s more like a charity thing. every month, i bring a bunch of toys from the store for some of the patients.”

you remember the conversation from yesterday about the gift for your friend’s daughter. you’d called them to make sure it was something she’d enjoy, and it turns out jeonghan couldn’t have been more correct: they said her current dream was to become a doctor, all she’d been doing the last week was scheduling check-ups for stuffed animals and giving flu shots to the family dog.

now, with this new information about the mysterious yet friendly man from the toy store, you can’t help but wonder if he knows your little girl, or maybe even treated her. you make a mental note to ask your friend for the name of their doctor when you see them next, to confirm a suspicion.

“sounds like you’re a busy guy,” you say with a smile.

he shrugs, stirring his latte with a wooden stirrer. “can be tiring sometimes, but it’s good work. i love it, and i love the kids.”

“so you’re a doctor, and you run a charity, and you like kids? what can’t you do?” you grin, taking a sip of your drink.

he laughs, holding up his paper cup. “make coffee.”

“i’m just surprised i haven’t seen you around more often,” you say. “it’s a fairly small town, yet it seems like all of a sudden i’m seeing you everywhere.”

the conversation fizzles out then, and you sit there, taking small sips of your drinks and pretending not to stare at him. he’s got this glow around him, like you can’t take your eyes off him.

you stand and start to turn to walk away, but an instinct makes you stop. like you’re being pulled back to him, like there’s still something you need to say.

you clear your throat. “i, um, i usually get coffee in the mornings before work here. maybe i’ll see you around?”

he looks up, meeting your eyes. “i’m sure i’ll see you again, very soon,” he says with a smile. “but just in case i don’t, here’s my card.”

he hands you a business card, and it seems to shimmer in the light. yoon jeonghan, head angel, it says on one side, with a list of numbers on the back.

he blushes and looks back down at his book, pretending to study the title. “call me if you ever need something. or, uh, just if you want to.”

you grin, shifting your bag higher onto your shoulder and slipping the card into your back pocket. “i’ll do that,” you say with a smile.

the third time you run into jeonghan is in a place you’d least expect an angel to be: the highway.

it’s been a week from hell (metaphorically) at work, and this morning you’d not only forgotten your phone at home, but then your car’s battery died on the way home from your closing shift. you’d just barely been able to make it to the side of the road before it died, forcing you to either wait in your car in the cold, or walk the half mile to the nearest exit to call a tow. you’d opted for the latter.

a shiny white car pulls up next to you, the driver’s side window rolling down to reveal a familiar face. “need some help?”

you look up in shock. “jeonghan? what are you doing here?”

“sweetheart, i should be asking you the same thing,” he laughs. “why are you walking along the highway at eleven o’clock at night?”

“car battery died,” you explain with a sigh.

“i figured,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “now, are you going to let me give you a ride, or not?”

you don’t have to be told twice. your fingers are beginning to freeze, and you would literally rather be anywhere right now than standing on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck.

the heater inside the car is wonderful, and you breathe a sigh of relief, pushing your hands against the vent to feel the warmth.

finally starting to warm up, you glance over at jeonghan, clearly on his way home from work, too. his white dress shirt is pushed up around his elbows, and the first three buttons are hanging undone, revealing pretty pale skin underneath. you have to drag your eyes away from him before you get caught staring at things you shouldn’t.

“doctor work or toy store work today?” you ask for the sake of conversation, even though you already know the answer.

“doctor work,” he confirms with a nod of his head.

“how was it? if-if i’m not prying.”

he pauses. “the usual, i suppose,” he sighs. “good news, bad news, hard decisions.”

he clears his throat. “so where am i dropping you off? house, apartment, boyfriend’s apartment?” he asks hesitantly. “or girlfriend? somebody?”

“just apartment,” you answer with a grin, telling him what you hope he wanted to hear with that question. “it’s just me.”

he looks over at you, his whole face lighting up. the moment is really nice, until you realize, his face is actually lighting up.

“jeonghan! your, um… why is your head glowing?”

his eyes flick back to the road for a second. “no– no reason,” he says, his cheeks turning pink under the light.

you stare at him, dumbfounded.

he sighs. “you don’t believe me.”

you watch his hands, holding tightly to the wheel.

“what’s going on? are you, like, a demon, or something?”

“ouch,” he cringes, glancing over at you. “no, i’m an angel, actually. the halo goes off sometimes when i’m… happy.”

you sit in silence, mouth hanging open as he continues to drive. “well, at least it makes sense now.”

he raises an eyebrow, but his gaze doesn’t move from the road. “so you do believe me.”

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask suddenly. there’s so much you’re dying to know, dying to ask him, dying to figure out what the hell is happening.

the car is dead silent for a few seconds, and you’re starting to think you’ve imagined this whole thing and you’re actually still back in your freezing car, dying of hypothermia. until jeonghan finally speaks, and you know you’re in for an interesting night.

“you like takeout?”

a pepperoni pizza, one bottle of wine, and many, many questions later, you’re laying on your couch, trying to process everything that just happened.

an actual, real-life angel is sitting on the floor of your living room, and not only is he a doctor, and he’s great with kids, but he’s also unfairly hot. and maybe it’s the wine talking and you’re more than a little tipsy, but all of a sudden you really, really want to kiss him.

“jeonghan?” you sit up, reaching out for his hand. “are you allowed to kiss me?” you whisper.

he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “if you want me to,” he whispers back.

“you won’t get in trouble with the angel people? or, like, god?”

he chuckles and stands up, moving closer to you. “i might. but it’d be worth it, for you.”

and then his hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you gently towards him, and suddenly you’re kissing him. his lips taste like clouds (what the hell do clouds even taste like?) and his touch is softer than anything you’ve ever felt, the tips of his fingers gently grasping onto your jaw and he leans into you.

you pull away after a while and sigh, the fog in your head beginning to clear.

he’s sitting next to you, watching you in what you can only describe as anxiousness.

“why me?” you ask quietly. “i know you did it on purpose, meeting me all those times. but why?”

he laughs softly and reaches out to touch your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “i don’t know why. but i’m drawn to you.” he tilts his head to look at you. “i think… i really like you.”

he pauses, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “i’ll take you on a real date, yeah?” he says. “somewhere nice.”

“it’s a miracle,” you nod, giggling. “i found an angel.”

taglist | @foxdaisy @tinkerbell460 @dokyeomblr @just-here-to-read-01 @ny0sang @noraehey @squiishymeow @pearlygraysky @baekhyunstruly @tenn87 @raevyng @aceofvernons @odetoyeonjun @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @matilde111

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!