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Just want to start by saying that I see all the love you guys have been showing my works and I do try to reply or like and I see the asks in my inbox and I really do appreciate each and every one of you guys. That being said as this is my last semester of grad school, your girl really needs to lock in so that she can pass her upcoming exams and graduate so Iâll be taking a small hiatus until exam season is over and I can breathe again. You guys can still send messages but my responses may be late.
Summary: You meet Felix when he fills in for your usual dealer, Jisung. One look at the pretty boy with blonde hair and a voice like sin and youâre gone. What starts as customer transactions turns into heated drops where Felix uses his deep voice and ringed fingers to tease you mercilessly.
Warnings: non-idol!au,kinda drug dealer/plug!felix x f!reader, romance, minor but not very detailed smut, MDNI!, acotar/tmi books mention, kinda slow burn,strangers-fwb-lovers, idiots to lovers,jealousy, possessive Felix, His Voiceâą, praise kink, mutual pining,drug dealer!hanji, Wooyoung cameo, rich kids!skz itâs not explicitly mentioned but thereâs signs, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 3.9k
A/N: this is the very first piece I ever wrote about Felix and itâs been sitting in my drafts for almost seven months so Iâm kinda nervous to post it. I hope you guys like it. Also I suck at summaries.
Lee Felix doesnât smoke often, but his friend Jisung doesâas religiously as he dealsâwhich is exactly how Felix ended up incorporating Jisungâs product into his baking. It started innocently enough; cookies, brownies, blondies. Then he moved on to infused butters and oils, experimenting with anything he could create in his kitchen. Pretty soon, word spread about the quality of his edibles, and Felix found himself splitting Jisungâs profits fifty-fifty. Not that either of them needed the moneyâit was more of a hobby than anything else, a side hustle that kept things interesting.
You met Felix on an ordinary Tuesday that becomes decidedly less ordinary the moment you slide into the black Jeep Jisung had sent you a picture of. Except itâs not Jisung waiting for you. The driverâs seat is occupied by possibly the prettiest person youâve ever seen in your life; long blonde hair cascading past his shoulders in waves so lustrous you briefly wonder if Jisung sent his girlfriend to do the drop. Heâs wearing a black and white striped sweater that somehow makes him look even more angelic and when he turns to look at you, youâre struck by delicate features that belong on a runway or in a K-drama, not in a dealerâs car.
âYou must beââ he starts and then he speaks, and you swear to God you feel your soul leave your body.
His voice is deep. Impossibly, unfairly deepâlike molten lava poured over gravel, like whiskey and honey and sin. It doesnât match that pretty face at all and the cognitive dissonance is so extreme that you just sit there, frozen, while he smiles knowingly and hands you a carefully packaged bag.
âFirst time meeting me?â Thereâs amusement in those dark eyes, like heâs used to this reaction.
You manage to nod, accept the package and somehow exit the vehicle without making a complete fool of yourself, though itâs a close thing. Youâre sureâabsolutely certainâthat you felt a heartbeat between your legs that had nothing to do with your actual pulse.
Your text to Jisung that night isnât even about the edibles.
You: who the FUCK was that
You: your pretty friend with the voice
You: does he have a girlfriend
Hanji đ: lmaooo you met Felix
Hanji đ: no gf
Hanji đ: but good luck heâs picky
You: the pretty one, right? blonde hair?
You have to be specific because youâve met Jisungâs friends Chan and Changbin before and theyâre both objectively hot but Felix is something else entirely.
Hanji đ: yeah, thatâs him
Hanji đ: why are you interested?
You: why do you THINK?
But that comes later, first, thereâs the slow burn.
Felix doesnât usually do drops, thatâs Jisungâs domain but ever since he met you, heâs been volunteering every single time an order comes through with your name attached. Jisung and the others tease him mercilessly about it.
âJust admit you like her,â Changbin says one night while theyâre playing video games at Chanâs apartment.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Felix replies, not looking up from his phone, where heâs absolutely checking to see if youâve texted.
âYou literally never did drops before,â Hyunjin points out. âNow youâre doing them weekly.â
Felix just shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. If you end up with extra goodies in your ordersâan additional brownie here, a free chocolate bar thereâthatâs nobodyâs business but his.
The first time you really flirt with himânot just awkward stammering but actual, intentional flirtingâhe shows up to the drop with his hair in braided twists. A few pieces have escaped to frame his face, but the rest is pulled up in a bun that shows off an undercut you didnât even know he had. Itâs unfairly attractive and you tell him so.
âYou look like youâre straight out of my favorite books,â you say, leaning against the Jeepâs door frame instead of immediately leaving like usual.
His eyebrows rise with interest. âYeah? Which book?â
âA court of thorns and roses or The Mortal Instruments,havenât decided,â you admit, then immediately feel your face heat because that sounds ridiculous out loud but Felix just grins, devastating and dangerous.
âShould I be flattered or concerned?â
âDepends. Have you read either?â
âNot yet,â he says, and thereâs a promise in those two words that makes your stomach flip.
Later, youâll learn that he downloaded all the books that very night. That he read ACOTAR in four days and that he has opinions about Rhysand and Cassian. He definitely thinks he could pull off that Jace Wayland character too.
After that, something shifts.
Felix starts showing up in rings, thick silver bands on his fingers that catch the light. Youâre pretty sure he caught you staring at his hands once and now heâs doing it on purpose. Heâll drum his fingers on the steering wheel while you count out cash or run a hand through his hair in a way that draws your attention exactly where he wants it.
He uses his voice like a weapon, dropping it even lower when he says your name, dragging out syllables until youâre practically squirming in the passenger seat.
âEnjoy these,â heâll say, handing over your order with a knowing smirk. âI made them extra strong.â
The flirting becomes a game. You show up in his favorite colorâyouâve done reconnaissanceâhe wears that cologne that makes you want to lean closer. You laugh at his jokes a little too enthusiastically, he lets his fingers brush yours when exchanging packages, contact lingering just a second too long.
Jisung finally gives you Felixâs number after weeks of this mutual torture.
Hanji đ: im sick of being the middleman
Hanji đ: just text him
Hanji đ: [Contact: Felix âïž]
You stare at the number for three days and donât text him. Itâs a power play, maybe, or self-preservation because texting him feels like admitting something, like crossing a line from customer-dealer into something far more complicated. Felix notices, of course he does and at the next drop, he calls you out on it.
âHan said he gave you my number,â he says casually, like heâs commenting on the weather.
âHe did.â
âBut you havenât used it.â
âNope.â
A pause. Then that devastating smile. âScared?â
âOf you? Please.â
âThen whatâs stopping you?â
You donât have a good answer for that, so you deflect. âMaybe I like the mystery. The anticipation.â
âThe anticipation,â he repeats slowly, and the way his voice wraps around those syllables should be illegal. âInteresting strategy.â
âIs it working?â
He laughs, low and rich and entirely unfair. âWhat do you think?â
Itâs another two weeks before things finally, finally come to a head. You run into him at a clubânot a planned drop, not a business transaction, just pure coincidence. Youâre with your friends, heâs with his and thereâs definitely enough alcohol in your system to make you brave.
You approach him at the bar.
âFelix.â
He turns, recognizes you immediately, and his whole face lights up in a way that makes your heart stutter. âHey.â
âFancy meeting you here.â
âCould say the same.â Heâs drinking something amber-colored and thereâs a slight flush to his cheeks that makes him look even more unfairly pretty. âHaving fun?â
âI am now.â
Itâs a terrible line but it works. Felixâs eyes darken with interest and he shifts closerâclose enough that you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off him.
âYouâre flirting with me,â he observes.
âIâve been flirting with you for weeks.â
âI know.â His smile is absolutely wicked. âIâve been waiting for you to do something about it.â
âLike what?â
He leans in, lips brushing your ear. âLike text me. Like ask me out. Like stop playing games and admit you want this.â
Your breath catches. âWant what?â
âMe.â He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes and the confidence thereâthe absolute certaintyâis intoxicating. âYou want me.â
Heâs not wrong.
âMaybe,â you breathe, and his laugh vibrates through your chest.
âLiar.â
And then he kisses youâor you kiss him, honestly, itâs hard to tell who moves firstâand itâs everything you imagined and nothing like you expected. He tastes like whiskey and something sweet, and he kisses like heâs trying to prove a point, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him.
When you finally break apart, youâre both breathing hard.
âSo,â Felix murmurs, thumb tracing your lower lip. âAbout that textâŠâ
You pull out your phone with him looking, open a new message to his number, and type: Hi
His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesnât check it, just grins. âHi yourself.â
âTake me home,â you say and itâs not a question.
âThought youâd never ask.â
The drive to his apartment is charged with tension. Felix keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles that make it very hard to think straight. Every time you hit a red light, he looks over at you with dark eyes and that small, knowing smile that promises everything.
His apartment is nicer than you expected; clean, modern, smelling faintly of whatever heâd been baking earlier. You barely get a chance to take it in before heâs on you, backing you against the door the moment it closes, mouth hot and insistent against yours.
âBeen thinking about this,â he murmurs against your lips, hands sliding under your shirt. âSince the first time you got in my car.â
âLiar,â you gasp as his mouth moves to your neck. âYou didnât even know me.â
âDidnât need to.â His teeth graze your pulse point and you actually whimper. âKnew I wanted you.â
He walks you backward toward his bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in your wake. By the time the back of your knees hit his bed, youâre down to your underwear and heâs shirtless, and the sight of himâall lean muscle and golden skinâmakes your mouth go dry.
âYou okay?â he asks, and thereâs genuine concern beneath the desire in his eyes.
âMore than okay,â you assure him, reaching up to pull him down to you.
What follows is honestly transcendent. Felix is attentive and thorough, learning exactly what makes you fall apart and then exploiting that knowledge ruthlessly. And that voice, God, that voice.
âThatâs it, baby,â he murmurs as you arch beneath him, his fingers working between your legs expertly. âLet me hear you. Let me hear how good Iâm making you feel.â
You canât help but obey, your sounds getting progressively louder as he builds you higher and higher.
âLook at you,â he continues, voice dropping even lower. âTaking my fingers so well. Gonna take something else for me soon?â
You nod frantically, beyond words at this point.
âUse your words. Need to hear you say it.â
âYes,â you gasp. âPlease, Lix, I needââ
âI know what you need.â He withdraws his fingers and you actually sob at the loss but then heâs positioning himself and slowly, torturously slowly, pushing inside. The stretch is perfect, overwhelming, and you grip his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
âBreathe,â he instructs, voice strained. âJust breathe, baby. Youâre doing so good for me. Taking me so well.â
He sets a rhythm that has you seeing stars, and he doesnât stop talkingâpraising you, telling you how incredible you feel, how perfect you are, asking what you need and then giving it to you before you can even answer.
âThere you go,â he says when you finally shatter, clenching around him. âThatâs my good girl. So beautiful when you come for me.â
The possessive tone in his voice combined with the praise sends aftershocks through you, and he follows shortly after with a broken groan that you file away in your memory to revisit later. After, he takes care of you; gentle and sweet, cleaning you up and pulling you against his chest. His fingers trace idle patterns on your skin.
âStay,â he says quietly. Itâs not really a question, but you answer anyway. âOkay.â
It becomes a regular thing. Not every night, but often enough that you start keeping a toothbrush at his place. Often enough that his friends start giving him knowing looks when you show up. Often enough that when you place an order through Jisung, Felix shows up with a separate bag.
âWhatâs this?â you ask, taking the unmarked package.
âYours,â he says simply. âMade you your own batch.â
You blink at him. âFelix, I havenât paid you forââ
âI know.â He cuts you off with a kiss. âYouâre not going to.â
âButââ
âNot up for debate.â
Later, when Jisung finds out, he corners Felix at Chanâs apartment.
âDude, you made her a separate batch? And youâre not charging her?â
âSo?â
âSo? So thatâs girlfriend privileges, boyfriend behavior, Felix.â
âSheâs not my girlfriend.â
âDoes she know that?â Changbin chimes in from the couch. âBecause you two are together, like, all the time.â
âWeâre just hooking up,â Felix insists, but even he can hear how weak it sounds.
âSure,â Hyunjin says, not looking up from his phone. âThatâs why you read an entire fantasy series because she mentioned it once. Very casual.â
Felix flips him off but doesnât deny it.
The thing is, heâs right, youâre not dating. Youâve never had the conversation, never put labels on whatever this is. You justâŠexist in each otherâs spaces. He comes to your place; you go to his. You meet up at parties and leave together. Your friends know him, his friends know you.
Everyone assumes youâre together. Youâre not.
Youâre also not seeing anyone else, and neither is he but thatâs semantics. It works, this arrangement. Itâs easy and comfortable and the intimacy is incredible. Felix knows your body like heâs studied itâknows that you like when he pins your wrists, when he uses that voice, when he takes his time working you up until youâre begging.
âPlease,â you whimper one night, writhing beneath him as he edges you for what feels like the hundredth time.
âPlease what?â His voice is velvet and sin. âUse your words, sunny.â
âPlease let me come. Iâve been so good, havenât I?â
âYou have,â he agrees, thumb circling but not quite hitting where you need it. âYouâve been such a good girl for me. Think youâve earned it?â
âYes, please, Lix, I needââ
âI know, baby, I know.â And then he finally, finally gives it to you, and you come so hard you see white.
After, while youâre both catching your breath, he pulls you against his chest and presses a kiss to your temple. Itâs intimate in a way that feels different from the sexâsofter, more tender.
âYouâre incredible,â he murmurs into your hair.
You want to ask what this is, what you are to each other, but you donât. The words stick in your throat, too heavy and too frightening.
So you just burrow closer and let it be.
Five Months In
The problem starts at a club on a Saturday night.
Youâre there with your friends, Felix is there with his, and everything is normal until you come back from the bathroom and see a girl practically draped over him at the bar. Sheâs gorgeousâmodel-tall with perfect hair and a dress that should be illegal and sheâs touching his arm, leaning close to say something that makes him laugh.
Your stomach drops.
You have no right to be jealous, youâre not together. Youâve never established exclusivity. For all you know, heâs been seeing other people this whole time; he hasnât. You know he hasnât because youâre together almost every night but logic has no place in the jealous spiral youâre currently experiencing.
One of your friends, Mina, follows your gaze and winces. âOh, babeâŠâ
âItâs fine,â you say, voice brittle. âWeâre not dating.â
âYouâre basically dating.â
âBasically, isnât the same as actually.â You turn away, ordering a shot you donât want and downing it anyway. Then another and another.
âMaybe you should talk to him,â your other friend suggests gently.
âAnd say what? âHey, I know we never discussed being exclusive, but Iâm irrationally jealous of that girl youâre talking toâ? Thatâs insane.â
âItâs not insane if you have feelings for him.â
You donât want to examine that too closely, so you do what any rational person would do, you head to the dance floor to forget about it. You lose yourself in the music, letting the bass drown out your thoughts. Youâre several songs deep when someone comes up behind you, hands settling on your waist.
âHey,â a voice saysânot Felixâs voice, but nice enough. âYouâre a great dancer.â
You turn to find a guy with sharp features and a playful smile. Heâs attractiveânot Felix-level attractive, but who is?âand more importantly, heâs interested in you and not draped over some other girl.
âThanks,â you say, matching his energy. âYouâre not bad yourself.â
His name is Wooyoung, you learn, and heâs funny and charming and keeps making you laugh. When he pulls you closer, you let him. When he suggests getting some air, you very much intend to say yes and maybe go home with him and forget all about pretty boys with deep voices and no-strings-attached arrangements.
Youâre just starting to say yes when a hand wraps around your wrist.
âSorry,â Felixâs voice cuts through the music and even though heâs addressing Wooyoung, his eyes are locked on you. âI need to borrow her.â
âDude, weâre kind of in the middle ofââ Wooyoung starts but Felix isnât listening. Heâs already pulling you away, threading through the crowd with single-minded determination. You stumble after him, anger starting to override the alcohol in your system.
âFelix, what the hellââ
He doesnât answer, just keeps walking until youâre outside, the cool night air a shock after the heat of the club. He leads you all the way to the back of the parking lot where his Jeep is parked, away from everyone else. Only then does he let go of your wrist.
You wrench your arm away. âWhat the fuck was that?â
âI could ask you the same thing.â His voice is level, but thereâs something dangerous underneath. âWho was that guy?â
âAre you serious right now?â You laugh, but thereâs no humor in it. âYouâre jealous?â
âYes,â he says bluntly. âIâm jealous. You were going to leave with him.â
âSo what if I was?â The words come out sharper than you intended, fueled by hurt and too much alcohol and three months of refusing to define whatever this is. âWeâre not together, right? You can talk to whoever you want. That girl at the bar seemed really interested.â
Understanding dawns in his eyes. âIs that what this is about? Yeji?â
âI donât know her nameââ
âSheâs Changbinâs cousin. She just moved here and wanted recommendations for apartments.â
Oh.
âYouâre an idiot,â he continues, stepping closer. âYou know that?â
âIâm an idiot? Who stands that close and touches on you to ask for apartment recs? Plus youâre the one who dragged me out of a clubââ
âBecause I couldnât stand watching some guy put his hands all over you.â Heâs right in front of you now, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. âBecause the thought of you going home with anyone else makes me want to break things.â
Your heart is pounding. âFelix,â
âI donât want this to be casual anymore,â he says, and the vulnerability in his voice cracks something open in your chest. âI donât want you seeing other people. I donât want to be just hooking up.â
âWhat are you saying?â
âIâm sayingâ He cups your face in both hands, those rings cool against your heated skin. âI want you to be my girlfriend. Iâve wanted that for a while now, but I was too chickenshit to say anything because I thought maybe you liked things the way they were.â
You let out a shaky breath. âYou really are an idiot.â
And then youâre kissing him, or heâs kissing you, and itâs different from every other kiss because this one comes with the promise of more. Of labels and commitment and feelings youâve both been too scared to name. When you finally break apart, youâre both breathing hard.
âSo?â he asks, forehead pressed against yours. âPut me out of my misery. What do you say?â
âI say youâre lucky youâre pretty,â you murmur and his laugh warms you from the inside out.
âIs that a yes?â
âYes, you idiot. Yes, Iâll be your girlfriend.â
His smile is blinding, boyish and sweet and so genuinely happy that you canât help but smile back.
âGood,â he says, and kisses you again. âBecause I really would have fought that guy.â
âWooyoung didnât deserve that. He was just dancing.â
âDonât care. Youâre mine now.â
The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the good kind.
âYours,â you agree and the word feels right in a way nothing else has.
He walks you backward until youâre pressed against the Jeep, his body bracketing yours as he kisses you thoroughly. His hands slide under your skirt, relearning territory they already know by heart but somehow feels different now, more significant.
âWe should go back inside,â you say without conviction as his mouth moves to your neck. âOur friends will wonder where we went.â
âLet them wonder.â He bites down hard and you gasp. âIâm not done with you yet.â
âWeâre in a parking lot, Felix.â
âMmm.â He doesnât stop his exploration. âWe could be in the Jeep. Backseatâs pretty spacious.â
You should say no. You should be responsible and go back to your friends and celebrate this new development in a mature, adult way.
Instead, you hear yourself say, âGet your keys.â
His laugh is pure delight as he pulls them from his pocket.
Laterâmuch laterâwhen youâre both thoroughly disheveled and satisfied, he leans his forehead against yours again.
âFor the record,â he says, voice rough, âitâs always been you. Since that first day. Thereâs never been anyone else.â
âGood,â you say, stealing another kiss. âBecause Iâm not sharing.â
âWouldnât dream of it, sunshine.â And when you finally do make it back inside, hand in hand, the knowing looks from both your friend groups are entirely worth it.
Because heâs yours nowâofficially, publicly, completely.
And pretty boy Lee Felix, who nobody would ever suspect is a dealer, who fucks you silly on the regular and talks you through it in that devastating voice of his?
Summary: Drunk you has no filter and your husband has always been a weak, weak man when it comes to you. He just didnât expect your family planning conversation to awaken the caveman part of his brain or a raging breeding kink in both of you.
Warnings: smut!MDNI, established relationship, trying to conceive, pregnancy, soft dom!cheol, domestic fluff, humor, healthy communication, breeding kink awakening, enthusiastic consent, multiple + creative locations and one very smug husband who knocked you up in paradise, married life, baby fever, hormone-induced chaos, obsessed husband!Cheol x obsessed wife!reader, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 18.1k
Sometimes being married to Choi Seungcheol felt like a fever dream as you often wondered how you managed to bag a man that ticked every box. He had his moments, his little beige flags as you liked to call them, but you knew that man loved you which is why youâre seeking him out as soon as you stumble through your front door. You had an itch only your husband could scratch and if you were right, he would still be holed up in the home office.
Seungcheol had been reading reports in his home office when he heard the front door slam. A quick look at his watch alerts him to the time, 1:47 AM.
His eyes narrowed. Why didnât you call him to come pick you up? He gets out of his chair when he hears the unmistakable sound of heels being kicked off carelessly and soft humming.
âMy husband!â your voice singsongs from the down the hall. âWhere are youuu?â
He barely has time to make it to the hallway before you stumble into the room seconds later, eyes glazed and clutching your purse like itâs plotting against you.
âBabyyyy,â you gasp, âThere you are.â
His brows draw together. âYouâre drunk.â
You blink at him, smile growing. âNuh-uh, just a tiny bit tipsy.â You measure with your fingers before breaking into a fit of giggles. Seungcheol can count on one hand how many times heâs seen you drunkâitâs still one handâas you can hold your liquor very well.
You walkâwell, swayâacross the room and launch yourself at him. He stumbles half a step back, catching you as your arms wrap tightly around his waist, face burying into his chest.
âYou smell expensive andâŠsexy,â you mumble.
âWhat happened?â he asks, voice low.
âWork has been shit,â you whisper. âNeeded aââ you hiccup, ââa break.â
He exhales slowly before his hand finds its way to your back. His grip tightens as he studies your lightly smudged eyeliner and flushed cheeks. The scent of your favorite wine lingers on your breath but beneath it lies your usual perfume, brown sugar, coconut, vanilla.
âYouâre a mess,â he murmurs, though thereâs no bite in his tone.
You giggle against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. âYou married this mess.â
A beat of silence passes before his lips twitch despite himself. âWhat am going to do with you, huh?â
The weight of you against him is familiar, grounding even, despite the alcohol-fueled abandon in your movements. Seungcheolâs hand moves in slow, deliberate circles against your back, a habit heâs developed over the years; one that always seems to settle you.
âDo with me?â you repeat, pulling back just enough to look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes are glassy but focused entirely on him, pupils blown wide. âI have some ideas.â
He catches the shift in your tone immediately, the way your fingers stop their aimless fidgeting and instead trace deliberate paths along his chest. His jaw tightens.
âYouâre drunk,â he repeats, firmer this time, even as his treacherous body responds to your proximity.
âIn loveeeeeeâ you respond as you attempt to sing lyrics from Drunk in Love.
âYouâre ridiculous,â he says, but his hands have already moved to steady you, one sliding to your hip while the other cups the back of your head.
âRidiculously in love with you,â you counter, poking his chest for emphasis. The motion throws off your already questionable balance, and you stumble forward again.
He catches you easily, muscle memory from years of being your safety net. âAlright, come on. Letâs get you to bed.â
âOoh, bed,â you waggle your eyebrows in a way that would be seductive if you werenât also hiccupping. âSee? You do have ideas.â
âTo sleep,â he clarifies, already guiding you toward the bedroom with his arm firmly around your waist. âWeâre going to bed to sleep. Youâre going to wake up tomorrow wondering why you thought drinking on a work night was a good idea.â
âTomorrow meâs problem,â you declare, then immediately contradict yourself by clinging tighter to him. âDonât you dare leave me alone tonight, Choi Seungcheol.â
Something in your voiceâbeneath the alcohol and the playfulnessâsounds small. Vulnerable.
His expression softens. âNever,â he promises quietly. âNow come on, letâs get you changed.â
âWould you still love me if I was a worm?â You stop and ask randomly as he sits you on the bathroom counter and tries to remove your makeup.
Seungcheol blinks. This was getting more surreal by the second. You were sitting before him, arms hanging off his shoulders with your head tilted with genuine curiosity and you wanted to know if heâd love youâŠas a worm? Heâs quiet for a moment. Then, his hands curve around your waist.
âA worm?â he repeats, deadpan. âSeriously?â
âYahhhh, you wouldnât?â You pout.
Seungcheol sighs, the kind of deep, put-upon sigh that somehow still sounds fond. He reaches for the micellar water and a cotton pad, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can start wiping away your makeup.
âHold still,â he murmurs, ignoring your question as he gently swipes at your eyeliner.
âYouâre avoiding the question!â you accuse, though you do hold still,mostly. âThat means you wouldnât love me. Youâd justâŠleave me in the dirt somewhere. Alone. A poor, lonely wormââ
âI would build you a terrarium,â he interrupts, deadpan, moving to your other eye. âWith the best soil money can buy. Organic, the expensive kind.â
You gasp, eyes flying open and nearly getting makeup remover in them. He gently presses them closed again with his thumb.
âI said hold still.â
âYouâd really build me a terrarium?â Your voice has gone soft, touched, as if heâs just promised you the moon.
âMhm.â Heâs focused on removing your mascara now, touch careful and practiced. âWith a heated lamp. Perfect pH balance in the soil. Iâd probably hire someone to monitor yourâŠworm health.â
âYouâre making fun of me.â
âIâm answering your question.â His lips twitch as he tosses the used cotton pad aside and reaches for another. âYouâd be the most spoiled worm in existence. Iâd make sure of it.â
Youâre quiet for a moment and when he glances at your face, youâre smiling at him with such open adoration it makes something in his chest squeeze tight.
âI love you,â you whisper.
His hand pauses mid-swipe. Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and lingering.
âI love you too,â he murmurs against your skin. âEven if you ask me stupid questions at two in the morning.â
âNot stupid,â you mumble but youâre already melting into him again, arms tightening around his shoulders. âImportant worm logistics.â
âRight. Very important.â He pulls back just enough to finish cleaning your face, his touch impossibly gentle. âNow letâs get you into pajamas before you ask me what Iâd do if you were a dolphin.â
âOoh, would youââ
âNo.â
You cup his cheeks in your hands squishing them together, looking at him with those eyes before you kiss him. âPlease, Cheollie? Want you?â
âNot tonight, princess.â Itâs utterly amazing, the way you switch from asking him unhinged shit to asking him to fuck you. It should give him whiplash but itâs not the first time itâs happened.
ââm not drunkâŠâ you pout. âCanât a girl just want her hot husband?â
Seungcheolâs jaw flexes under your palms, his eyes darkening despite his best efforts to maintain composure. He gently pulls your hands away from his face but doesnât let go, instead intertwining his fingers with yours.
âYou can,â he says, voice lower now, rougher around the edges. âAnd you will, tomorrow. When youâre sober and wonât regret it.â
âI would never regret you,â you protest, leaning forward until your forehead rests against his. âNot possible. Scientifically impossible.â
âScientifically impossible,â he repeats and thereâs amusement threading through the restraint in his tone. âIs that so?â
âMhm.â You nod seriously, the motion making you slightly dizzy. âDid research. Very thorough.â
His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand; that same grounding gesture, keeping himself anchored as much as you. âYour research involved how much wine exactly?â
âIrrelevant data,â you whisper, then press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. âThe conclusion is still valid.â
He inhales sharply and for a moment you think youâve won. His free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your bottom lip but then heâs pulling back, putting necessary distance between you even as everything in his expression says he doesnât want to.
âIâm not doing this while youâre drunk,â he says firmly. âI donât care how much you pout or how many times you tell me youâre fine. This is non-negotiable.â
You study him for a long moment, his set jaw, his dark eyes that are clearly affected despite his iron will, the way his hand trembles just slightly against yours.
âYou really wonât?â you ask, quieter now.
âI really wonât.â His expression softens. âAsk me tomorrow. When you can look me in the eye without the room spinning. When youâll actually remember every detail.â His voice drops to something almost possessive. âBecause when I do touch you, I want you to remember all of it.â
The promise in his words sends heat pooling low in your stomach despite your alcohol-hazed state. You bite your lip and his eyes track the movement with dangerous focus before he deliberately looks away.
âEvil man,â you mutter. âMaking me wait.â
âResponsible husband,â he corrects, then slides you off the counter and scoops you up bridal style in one smooth motion. âNow come on. Pajamas, water, bed, in that order.â
âFine,â you sigh dramatically, letting your head fall against his shoulder. âBut Iâm picking the pajamas.â
âAs long as you actually put them on instead of trying to seduce me again.â
âNo promises.â
He huffs what might be a laugh as he carries you toward the bedroom. âWhy am I not surprised?â
âYâknow everyone thinks I married you for your status and money.â You say switching the subject again as he starts unbuttoning your shirt.
âNo, you didnât. You had no idea who my family was when we met so I know itâs not that.â
âI married you for that fat ass.â you reply, hands drifting down and grabbing his ass. âdonât need your money.â You grin at the look on his face.
âGod, I forgot how handsy you get with alcohol in your system.â
âHorny too but I guess I donât do it for you causeâŠwhat kinda hisbââ you hiccup âhusband doesnât like his wife t-throwing herself at him? Is it Jeonghan? Is Hannie prettier than me?â
Seungcheol freezes mid-button, his eyes snapping to yours with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief.
âDid you justââ He stops, takes a breath, then continues with strained patience. âDid you seriously just ask me if I want Jeonghan?â
âWell, you donât want me,â you say, bottom lip trembling in a way that would be more effective if you werenât also still squeezing his ass. âHeâs got nice hair,â you say defensively, words slurring slightly. âAnd that wholeâŠpretty boy thing going on. Maybe you like that better thanââ
âJesus Christ woman,â Seungcheol mutters, catching your wandering hands and firmly moving them to your sides. âOkay, listen to me very carefully.â
He cups your face with both hands, forcing you to meet his eyes.
âFirst of all, Jeonghan is my best friend and I love him like a brother, which means the thought of anything else makes me want to bleach my brain.â His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he continues, voice firm but gentle. âSecond, I always want you. Every single day. Sometimes so much itâs inconvenient, like in the middle of board meetings when you text me something cute.â
âReally?â you sniffle.
âReally.â He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. âThe reason Iâm not touching you right now isnât because I donât want to. Itâs because I respect you too much to take advantage when youâre drunk. Do you understand the difference?â
Youâre quiet for a moment, processing. Then, âSo, you do think Iâm prettier than Hannie?â
A laugh bursts out of him, unexpected and genuine. âYouâre completely ridiculous, you know that?â
âBut am I prettier?â
âYouâre the most beautiful person Iâve ever seen,â he says and the sincerity in his voice cuts through your alcohol-fogged brain. âDrunk, sober, first thing in the morning, all dressed up, doesnât matter. Itâs always you. Only you.â
Your eyes well up. âCheollieâŠâ
âOh no.â He recognizes the signs immediately. âNo crying. Weâre not doing drunk crying tonight.â
âBut youâre so nice to me,â you warble, tears already spilling over. âAnd I love you so much and you built me a theoretical worm terrarium, and you think Iâm prettyââ
âI think we need to get you in pajamas right now,â he says, already reaching for the shirt buttons again with renewed determination, âbefore this spiral gets worse.â
ââm not spiraling,â you protest, even as another tear rolls down your cheek. âJust got a lot of feelings about my hot, respectful, worm-loving husband.â
âWorm-loving,â he repeats under his breath. âWhat is my life?â
âYour life is amazing,â you inform him, helpfully (unhelpfully) trying to unbutton your own shirt and just making the process more difficult. âYou have me. And my ass. Which is also amazing.â
âIâm aware,â he says dryly, gently batting your hands away so he can actually finish unbuttoning. âI married it, remember?â
You gasp, delighted. âYou do remember! See, weâre perfect for each other. You married my ass, I married your assââ
âThatâs not how marriage works.â
ââitâs likeâŠass-tronomy. No, wait. Ass-trology? Weâre ass-trologically compatible.â
Seungcheol pauses, shirt halfway off your shoulders, and just looks at you. âDid you justâyou canât just put âassâ in front of words and expect them to make sense.â
âAss-olutely can,â you say with complete conviction.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly praying for strength. âIâm going to pretend you didnât just say that.â
âYou love it,â you singsong, finally cooperating enough to let him pull your shirt off. âYou love meee and my drunk ass puns.â
âI love you despite your drunk ass puns,â he corrects, reaching for one of his old t-shirts from the drawer. âArms up.â
You obey, lifting your arms like a toddler as he slides the shirt over your head. Itâs enormous on you, falling nearly to your knees and smells like his cologne and laundry detergent. You immediately burrow into it with a happy sigh.
âNow pants,â he says, reaching for your waistband.
âOoh, taking my pants off. Scandalous.â
âWeâre literally married.â
âStill scandalous.â You boop his nose as he efficiently unbuttons your pants. âYouâre being very professional about this. Very doctor-y. Do you do this for all your patients?â
âYouâre my only patient and youâre testing my patience,â he mutters, helping you step out of your pants. âOther leg. Good.â
âSuch a good caretaker,â you coo, patting his head as he kneels in front of you. âGonna leave you five stars on MangoPlate. âHusband refused to have sex with drunk wife. Very responsible. Would recommend.ââ
He looks up at you with an expression of pure suffering. âPlease never write that review.â
ââAlso has a great ass,ââ you continue thoughtfully. ââAss-ceptional, even.ââ
âIâm begging you to stop.â
ââAss-tounding restraintâââ
He stands abruptly and just picks you up, cutting off your commentary as you squeal in surprise. âOkay. Thatâs enough. Water and bed. Now.â
âYou canât silence me!â you declare, even as you wrap your arms around his neck. âThe people deserve to know about your ass!â
âThe people know plenty,â he says, carrying you toward the bed with the long-suffering patience of a saint. âNow drink this.â
He somehow manages to grab the water bottle from the nightstand one-handed and present it to you. You take it obediently, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are.
âGood girl,â he murmurs and even in your drunk state, you donât miss the way his voice dips on those words.
You lower the water bottle, eyes narrowing. âYou canât just say things like that and then refuse toââ
âDrink,â he interrupts firmly, tipping the bottle back up toward your lips.
You drink, plotting your revenge but the cool water actually does help clear some of the fog. When youâve had enough, he sets the bottle aside and carefully deposits you onto your side of the bed.
âStay,â he commands, pointing at you like youâre a mischievous puppy.
âWoof,â you respond because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth has completely dissolved. He huffs what might be a laugh and disappears into the bathroom. You hear water running and then heâs back with a damp washcloth, sitting on the edge of the bed.
âCome here,â he says softly, and when you scoot closer, he gently wipes your face; getting the spots he missed earlier, cooling your flushed cheeks. Itâs tender and intimate in a way that makes your chest ache.
âCheol?â you whisper.
âMm?â
ââm really glad I married you. Not just for your ass.â
His lips twitch. âGood to know.â
âFor your heart too. And your face. And the way you take care of me even when Iâm being ridiculous. Oh, and that dick, canât forget about that.â
âWoman, I swear toââ
âJust lemme keep it warm, please?â Your hand moves to rest low on his stomach. There you go trying to get him to fuck you, again.
âBaby, no. We both know you wonât stop there.â
You open your mouth to protestâto make very compelling arguments about your self-control and how you would totally just keep things innocentâbut he cuts you off by pressing his thumb gently against your lips.
âDonât,â he warns, though thereâs affection in his eyes. âDonât make promises drunk-you canât keep. I know you.â
You deflate slightly because, fine, heâs right. Sober-you has minimal self-control around him. Drunk-you has absolutely none which is exactly why you keep asking.
âJust wanna feel you inside, promise Iâll behave.â
Seungcheolâs composure cracks visibly, his breath hitches, his grip on the washcloth tightening as his eyes darken with want. For a moment, you think youâve finally broken through his resolve.
Then he closes his eyes, jaw working and when he opens them again his expression is pained but firm.
âYouâre killing me,â he says roughly. âYou know that?â
âGood,â you mumble, though youâre already yawning. âSuffer with me.â You say pressing your lips to his.
âI shouldnât have to deal with my ovulation alone.â And suddenly the wheels are turning in Seungcheolâs head. He goes completely still against your lips, his brain clearly short-circuiting as he processes what you just said.
âYourâŠwhat?â He pulls back to look at you, eyes wide.
âOvulation,â you repeat matter-of-factly, like youâre discussing the weather. âWhy dâyou think Iâm so horny? Itâs science, Cheollie. Biology. Nature.â You wave your hand dramatically. âMy body wants a baby and itâs making me crazy and youâreâyouâre just sitting here looking all hot and responsible andââ
âOkay,â he interrupts, voice strangled. âOkay, weâre not, you canât just drop that information on me while youâre drunk and expect me toââ
âTo what?â You tilt your head, genuinely curious despite the alcohol. âFinally give your wife what she wants?â
His eyes flutter closed and he takes several deep breaths, clearly fighting an internal battle. When he opens them again, thereâs a new tension in his expression; want, restraint, and something darker all tangled together.
âThatâs not fair,â he says roughly. âYou canât use the ovulation card. Thatâs playing dirty.â
âEverythingâs fair in love and baby-making,â you counter, then giggle at your own modification of the phrase.
âWe are not having this conversation right now,â he says firmly, even as his hand unconsciously tightens on your hip. âWeâll talk about this tomorrow. When youâre sober, when we can have an actual discussion aboutâabout family planning andââ
âAlready know I want your babies,â you interrupt, cupping his face. âKnown that for years. Since likeâŠour third date probably.â
âThird date,â he repeats faintly.
âMhm. You were wearing that gray sweater and you laughed at my joke and I just thoughtââ you sigh dreamily, âââyeah, I want tiny humans with his laugh and dimples.ââ
Something shifts in his expression; it goes soft and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart squeeze even through the alcohol haze.
âYouâre not playing fair at all,â he whispers.
âDonât wanna play fair,â you whisper back. âWant you. Want your baby. Wantââ another yawn interrupts you, ââwant you to stop being so responsible and justâŠâ
But exhaustion is finally catching up with you, the alcohol and emotional rollercoaster of the evening taking their toll. Your eyes are getting heavier despite your best efforts.
Seungcheol notices immediately, his expression gentling. âThere we go,â he murmurs, carefully maneuvering you under the covers. âFinally.â
ââm not tired,â you protest weakly, even as you burrow into the pillow.
âSure youâre not.â He slides in next to you and immediately you roll toward him, seeking his warmth.
âCheol?â you mumble against his chest.
âYeah, baby?â
âTomorrowâŠwe can talk about it? The baby thing?â
His arm tightens around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. âTomorrow,â he promises. âWeâll talk about everything tomorrow.â
âAnd youâll actually consider it? Not justâŠsay weâll talk and then avoid it?â
Thereâs a pause, and then, âIâve been considering it for months,â he admits quietly. âI just wanted to wait for the right time. When we were both ready.â
You manage to pull back just enough to look at him, suddenly feeling more alert. âMonths?â
He smiles, a little embarrassed. âWhy do you think I cleared out the guest room last month? Iâve been planningâŠthinking about turning it into a nursery. Eventually.â
âYouââ your eyes well up again, ââyou sneaky, wonderful man.â
âDonât cry,â he says, but heâs smiling as he wipes away the tears with his thumb. âSave it for tomorrow when you can properly yell at me for not telling you sooner.â
âGonna yell and cry,â you inform him. âAnd then jump your bones.â
âLooking forward to it,â he says dryly. âNow sleep. Youâre going to feel terrible in the morning.â
âWorth it,â you mumble, already drifting. âGot you to admit you want babiesâŠâ
âI want your babies,â he corrects softly. âThereâs a difference.âÂ
But youâre already asleep, a small smile on your face, wrapped securely in your husbandâs arms. Seungcheol lies awake a little longer, looking down at you; his drunk, ridiculous, beautiful wife who just ambushed him with baby talk and ass puns in the same conversation.
âWhat am I going to do with you?â he whispers, echoing his earlier question.
But this time, heâs smiling as he says it. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow theyâll talkâreally talkâabout the future. About expanding their family. About all the things heâs been too cautious to bring up, worried about timing and readiness and a thousand other factors.
But tonight, youâre here, safe and warm and his, talking about wanting his babies since the third date.
Yeah. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.
He presses one more kiss to your forehead before settling in, keeping you close. His ovulating, drunk, perfect disaster of a wife. He wouldnât have it any other way.
The next morning, you wake up to three things; a pounding headache that feels like a marching band has taken up residence in your skull, blinding sunlight streaming through curtains you thought you closed and the smell of coffee and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.
You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. Your mouth tastes like something died in it and when you try to sit up, the room spins just enough to make you regret every life choice that led to this moment.
âOh god,â you mutter, flopping back down.
Fragments of last night start filtering back through the haze. Coming home late. Seungcheolâs concerned face. The bathroom counter. Worm terrarium? You definitely said something about worms. And thenâ
Your eyes fly open.
âOh no.â
The baby conversation. The ovulation announcement. Your very detailed commentary about your husbandâs ass. Theâyou bury your face in your handsâthe begging.
âKill me now,â you whisper to the empty room.
âCanât do that, Iâm afraid.â
You nearly jump out of your skin. Seungcheol is leaning against the doorframe, holding a mug of coffee and wearing an expression that can only be described as deeply amused.
Heâs already somewhat dressed for the day in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hair slightly damp from a shower, looking infuriatingly well-rested and attractive. Meanwhile, youâre pretty sure you look like a gremlin who lost a fight with a bottle of wine.
âHow long have you been standing there?â you croak.
âLong enough to hear you bargaining with God.â He pushes off the doorframe and walks over, setting the coffee on the nightstand. âHowâs the head?â
âLike I deserve it,â you admit, gratefully reaching for the mug. âHow much did Iââ you pause, coffee halfway to your lips, ââhow bad was it?â
His smile grows. âOn a scale of one to ten?â
âCheol.â
âYou asked if Iâd love you as a worm,â he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. âYou accused me of wanting Jeonghan. You made approximately ten puns involving the word âass.â Andââ his expression shifts to something more heated, ââyou made some very compelling arguments about baby-making.â
You choke on your coffee. âOh my god.â
âAlso, apparently you decided you married me for my âfat assâ and not my money or status, which is good to know.â
âI hate everything,â you moan, setting the coffee down so you can bury your face in your hands again. âIâm never drinking again. Iâm becoming a nun. Iâm moving to a remote island where I canât embarrass myselfââ
âHey.â His hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. His expression is soft now, affectionate. âYou were cute.â
âI was a disaster.â
âA cute disaster.â He coils a loose curl around his finger. âYou always are when you drink. Itâs part of your charm.â
âThereâs nothing charming about drunk me telling you I want toââ you canât even finish the sentence, heat flooding your face.
âKeep me warm?â he supplies helpfully. âJust want it inside you, youâd behave, you promised?â
âSeungcheol.â
Heâs grinning now, clearly enjoying your mortification. âOr was it the part where you said your ovulation shouldnât be a solo activity?â
You grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. He laughs, catching it easily and tossing it aside before catching both your wrists in his hands.
âIâm just saying,â he continues, eyes dancing with mischief, âyou were veryâŠarticulate about your needs.â
âIâm going back to sleep,â you announce, trying to pull away. âWake me in ten years when Iâve died of embarrassment.â
âCanât do that either.â He releases one wrist but keeps hold of the other, his thumb tracing circles on your pulse point. âWe have things to discuss. Remember?â
Your heart skips. The amusement in his expression hasnât faded, but thereâs something else there now; something serious and warm and a little nervous.
âTheâŠbaby thing?â you venture quietly.
âThe baby thing,â he confirms. âBut firstââ he reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves two pills and a glass of water you hadnât noticed, ââpain meds. Then breakfast. Then we talk.â
âCheol, Iâm sorry if I made you uncomfortable orââ
âYou didnât.â Heâs firm about that, waiting until you take the medication before continuing. âYou surprised me, yeah. But uncomfortable? No.â He pauses. âTurned on while trying desperately to maintain my morals? Absolutely, but not uncomfortable.â
Despite everything, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. âI really tried to break you, huh?â
âYou almost succeeded,â he admits. âThe ovulation thing was a low blow.â
âItâs true though,â you say, then immediately want to take it back becauseâŠ
âI know.â His voice drops, eyes darkening. âI checked the calendar while you were sleeping. Youâre right in the middle of your fertile window.â
The air between you shifts, charges. Youâre suddenly very aware that youâre in bed, wearing only his t-shirt and heâs looking at you like,
âBreakfast first,â he says firmly, standing up. âYou need food and hydration. Then weâll talk. Really talk. About timing, readiness and what we both want.â
âAnd if we decide we want the same thing?â you ask, unable to help yourself.
He leans down, bracing one hand on the mattress beside you, bringing his face close to yours. âThen I clear my schedule for the rest of the day,â he murmurs. âAnd give you exactly what you were begging for last night.â
Your breath catches.
âBut sober,â he adds, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before straightening. âAnd enthusiastically consenting to every single detail.â
âThatâsââ you have to clear your throat, ââvery responsible of you.â
âSomeone has to be.â He heads toward the door, then pauses. âOh, and baby? For the record?â He looks back with a devastating smile. âIâve been ready for months. I was just waiting for you to catch up.â
Then heâs gone, leaving you sitting in bed, headache temporarily forgotten, heart racing with possibilities. From the kitchen, you hear him call, âFrench toast or pancakes?â
âFrench toast!â you call back, already scrambling out of bed.
Suddenly, youâre feeling much better about facing this day and the conversation that could change everything.
You pad into the kitchen after finishing your morning routine. Heâs plating the last of breakfast before sitting down and as you go to take your place beside him, he pulls you onto his lap.
âCheol?â
âYou asked me to keep it warm last night,â he whispers. âThink you can do that while we sit and have breakfast, love? Bet Iâd be able to slide right in.â
You freeze, every nerve ending suddenly awake and hyper-aware. Your headache? Gone. The lingering nausea? Vanished. Thereâs only Seungcheol beneath you, solid and warm, his breath hot against your ear.
âIâŠwhat?â Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy.
His hands settle on your hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of his t-shirt youâre still wearing. âYou heard me.â His voice is low, rough in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. âYou wanted this last night. Said youâd behave. That you just wanted to feel full.â
âI was drunk,â you manage, even as your body is already responding, already leaning back against his chest.
âAnd now youâre sober.â His lips brush the shell of your ear. âSo, Iâm asking properly. Do you want this? Want to sit here, keeping me warm while we eat breakfast and talk about our future?â
Your breath hitches. This isâŠitâs obscene. Itâs intimate in a way that makes your head spin and you want it so badly you can barely think straight.
âWhat about the talking?â you whisper. âThe responsible conversation?â
âWe can still talk.â One hand slides up your spine, settling between your shoulder blades. âI can be very articulate, even when Iâm buried inside you. Question is, can you?â
Itâs a challenge. One youâve never backed down from.
You turn your head just enough to meet his eyes. Theyâre dark, intense but thereâs a question there too. Real consent. Making sure this is what you actually want and not just lingering drunk decisions.
âYes,â you breathe. âI want this.â
His grip tightens. âYeah?â
âYeah.â You shift in his lap, feeling him already half-hard beneath you. âWant you. Always want you.â
He makes a low sound in his throat. âLift up a little, baby.â
You obey, bracing your hands on his thighs as he shifts beneath you. You hear the rustle of fabric, feel him pushing his sweatpants down just enough, and then,
âNo underwear?â His voice is strained as his fingers trace up your bare thighs, discovering you came to the kitchen in just his shirt and nothing else.
âSeemed inefficient,â you manage, gasping when his fingers brush where you need him most.
âFuck,â he mutters, and you feel him stroke himself once, twice. âYouâre already so wet.â
âTold you,â you say breathlessly. âOvulation. Biology. Canât helpâohââ
Heâs guiding himself to your entrance, letting you feel the blunt pressure of him. âSlow,â he murmurs. âTake your time. Weâve got all morning.â
You lower yourself gradually, inch by torturous inch, feeling the stretch and burn and perfect fullness of him. His hands are steady on your hips, helping you and his breathing is harsh against your neck.
âThatâs it,â he encourages roughly. âJust like that, baby. So good for me.â
When youâre fully seated, both of you still for a moment. Youâre trembling slightly, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it; sitting in his lap in your bright kitchen, completely joined, the morning sun streaming through the windows.
âOkay?â he asks, voice strained.
âSo okay,â you breathe. âSoâŠCheol, you feelââ
âI know.â He presses a kiss to your shoulder. âI know, baby. Nowââ he reaches around you for the plates, sliding them closer, ââbreakfast.â
You laugh, slightly delirious. âYou canât be serious.â
âCompletely serious.â He picks up a fork, cutting a piece of French toast. âOpen.â
This is insane. Youâre sitting on your husbandâs lap in the kitchen, full of him, while he feeds you breakfast like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
You open your mouth and he slides the fork in. The French toast is perfect, crispy outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of cinnamon and syrup. You chew slowly, hyper-aware of every small movement, how even that makes you shift slightly on him.
His breath catches. âDonât,â he warns.
âDonât what?â You shift deliberately, just a little and feel him twitch inside you. âIâm just eating breakfast.â
âYouâre playing with fire,â he growls but heâs already cutting another piece. âNow, letâs talk about this baby thing.â
You nearly choke on nothing. âNow? You want to have this conversation now?â
âWhy not?â His free hand settles possessively on your lower belly, thumb stroking just above where youâre joined. âSeems like the perfect time. Canât run away. Canât deflect. Youâve got my undivided attention.â
His voice is teasing but thereâs an edge of seriousness underneath. He really does want to talk about this. Like this. Your utterly insane, wonderful husband.
âOkay,â you manage, reaching for your coffee with shaking hands. âOkay. Letâs talk.â
âSo,â Seungcheol says, his voice remarkably steady despite the situation, âyou said last night youâve wanted this since our third date.â
You take a sip of coffee, trying to focus on the conversation and not the fact that you can feel every minute shift of his body. âIâyeah. I mean, not immediately, obviously but I knew. Knew that I wanted a future with you. Kids. All of it.â
âWhy didnât you say anything?â His hand is still on your belly, thumb tracing idle patterns that are absolutely not helping your concentration.
âI donât know. Timing? We were building our careers, and I didnât want to pressure you, andââ you gasp softly as he shifts slightly beneath you, ââare you doing that on purpose?â
âNo,â he says but you can hear the smile in his voice. âJust getting comfortable. Keep talking.â
âYouâre evil.â
âYouâre stalling.â He offers you another bite of French toast. âCome on. I want to hear this.â You accept the bite, chewing while trying to organize your thoughts, which is nearly impossible when youâre so acutely aware of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely.
âI was scared,â you finally admit. âThat maybe you didnât want the same things. That Iâd bring it up and youâd feel trapped or obligated and then months kept passing and it felt like the moment never came up naturally andââ you laugh shakily, ââI guess drunk me decided to just rip the bandaid off.â
âDrunk you has terrible timing but good instincts.â His lips brush your shoulder. âIâve been wanting to have this conversation for months too.â
âReally?â
âReally.â He sets down the fork, both hands coming to rest on your hips now. âI meant what I said earlier. About clearing out the guest room. Iâve been thinking about it constantlyâŠwhat it would be like. You, pregnant. A baby. Our baby.â
Your heart stutters. âCheolâŠâ
âI think about you with a bump,â he continues, voice going rougher. âAbout feeling them kick. About watching you become a mother.â His hips shift up slightly, making you gasp. âAbout putting a baby in you.â
âThatâsâoh godâthatâs not fair,â you whimper, fingers digging into his thighs.
âWhatâs not fair?â
âSaying things like that when I canât move, canâtââ
âWho says you canât move?â His grip tightens on your hips. âI said sit still during breakfast. Weâre done eating now.â
Your breath catches. âAre we?â
âMhmm.â One hand slides up to cup your breast through the thin t-shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple. âI think itâs time for dessert. Donât you?â
âSeungcheolââ
âTell me what you want,â he demands, voice dropping to that commanding tone that never fails to undo you. âUse your words, baby. Sober words.â
Youâre trembling now, desperate. âWant you. Want this. Wantââ you break off as his other hand slides between your legs, finding where youâre joined.
âWant what?â he presses. âSay it.â
âWant you to fuck me,â you gasp out. âWant you to put a baby in me. WantâŠplease, Cheollie, pleaseââ
âThere she is,â he murmurs approvingly. Then his grip shifts, and heâs lifting you slightly before pulling you back down, finally, finally giving you the friction youâve been craving.
You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder as he sets a devastating rhythm. The breakfast dishes rattle on the table with each thrust and you distantly think you should care about the mess youâre probably making but then he angles his hips just right and all thoughts scatter.
âThatâs it,â he growls against your neck. âTake it. Take all of me.â
âYes, god, yesââ
His hand on your breast squeezes while the other works between your legs and the combination is overwhelming. Youâre already close, wound too tight from sitting still for so long, from the filthy intimacy of it all.
âGonna fill you up,â he pants. âGonna give you exactly what you want. What we both want. You want that, baby? Want me to get you pregnant?â
âYes,â you sob and youâre not even sure if itâs the hormones or the moment or the fact that this is your husband, your partner, your person and youâre finally talking about this, finally doing thisâŠ
âCome for me first,â he demands. âLet me feel it. Show me how much you want this.â
His fingers press harder and thatâs all it takes. You shatter, clenching around him, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you in waves.
âFuck, babyââ his rhythm falters, becomes erratic and then heâs following you over, groaning against your neck as he pulses inside you, holding you tight against him. For a long moment, neither of you move. Youâre both breathing hard, trembling, still joined together as aftershocks roll through you.
âSo,â Seungcheol finally says, voice rough and satisfied, âI think thatâs a yes? Weâre doing this?â
You laugh breathlessly, turning your head to kiss him. âYeah, weâre doing this.â
âGood.â He nuzzles into your neck. âBecause I meant every word. I want this. Want you. Want our family.â
âEven though I ambushed you while drunk?â
âEspecially because you ambushed me while drunk.â You can feel his smile against your skin. âShows you trust me. Even when youâre not in control.â
You shift slightly and he groans. âDonât move yet. JustâŠlet me hold you like this for a minute.â
So, you do, sitting in your dining room in the morning sunlight, still connected, still close, talking softly about the future youâre going to build together.
About nursery colors and baby names and how youâll tell your families and whether you want to know the gender or be surprised. About all the beautiful, terrifying, wonderful possibilities ahead and when he finally, reluctantly slips out of you, he immediately scoops you up and carries you back to the bedroom.
âAgain?â you ask, surprised but definitely not opposed.
âWeâre optimizing our chances,â he says seriously but his eyes are dancing. âItâs just good planning.â
âYouâre a fein.â
âYouâre ovulating,â he counters, laying you gently on the bed. âAnd I have months of baby-making fantasies to work through. So,â he crawls over you, settling between your thighs, âweâre going to be here a while.â
âWhat about our schedules?â you tease. âDonât you have meetings? I have work.â
âCancelled everything,â he says, leaning down to kiss you slowly, deeply. âTold them I have important business with my wife.â
âVery important business,â you agree, gasping as he enters you again.
âThe most important,â he murmurs against your lips. He flips you on your hands and knees first, arched just the way he wants you.
âStay just like that,â Seungcheol commands, his hands spreading across your lower back, pressing down slightly to deepen the arch. âPerfect. So, fucking perfect.â
Youâre trembling already, forehead pressed against the sheets, completely exposed to him. You feel vulnerable like this, open, but the way heâs looking at you; you can practically feel the heat of his gaze dragging over every inch of exposed skin.
âCheolââ you start but the word cuts off into a moan as he runs his hands up your sides, thumbs tracing your spine.
âShhh,â he soothes, though thereâs nothing gentle about the way heâs positioning you, adjusting your hips exactly where he wants them. âJust feel.â
One hand wraps around your hip while the other slides between your legs, finding you still wet, still sensitive from before. You jerk at the contact and his grip tightens, holding you steady.
âStill so ready for me,â he muses, almost conversational, like heâs not currently destroying your composure with just his fingers. âEven after I just filled you up. You really do want this, donât you?â
âYes,â you gasp into the sheets. âGod, yes, pleaseâŠâ
âPlease what?â Heâs teasing now, the head of his cock brushing against you but not entering, just barely there, making you crazy.
âPlease fuck me,â you whimper, trying to push back against him, but his hand on your hip keeps you in place. âPlease, I needââ
âNeed what, baby? Use your words.â
âNeed you inside me,â you practically sob. âNeed you toâŠto get me pregnant, need you toâoh fuckââ
He slides in with one smooth thrust, burying himself completely, and the angle is devastating. You can feel him so deep like this, stretching you, filling every inch.
âThis what you need?â His voice is strained now, control slipping. Both hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise and you hope they do, want to see the marks tomorrow, proof of this.
âYes, yes, donât stopââ
âNot stopping,â he growls, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. âNot until youâre dripping with me. Not until I know it took.â The pace he sets is brutal, desperate, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you crying out with each thrust. One hand leaves your hip to fist in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding you.
âGonna look so good pregnant,â he pants. âGonna love watching your belly grow. Knowing I did that. That youâre carrying my baby.â
âCheolââ youâre incoherent now, can only hold on as he takes you apart.
âSay it,â he demands. âTell me what you want.â
âWant your baby,â you gasp out. âWant you toâŠto come inside me, wantâgodâwant everyone to know Iâm yours.â
His rhythm stutters at that, becomes somehow even more intense. âMine,â he agrees roughly. âAlways mine. My wife. Mother of my children. Mine.â
The possessiveness in his voice, the certainty, sends you spiraling. Your second orgasm hits harder than the first, whiting out your vision and you feel yourself clench around him rhythmically.
âFuckâbabyââ he groans and then heâs there too, pressing as deep as he can go, holding you against him as he fills you again. This time when he pulls out, he immediately maneuvers you onto your back, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your hips before you can protest.
âElevate,â he explains breathlessly and you canât help but laugh.
âYou really did research.â
âTold you.â He collapses partially on top of you with his head resting on your chest. âMonths of thinking about this. Iâm prepared.â
Your fingers find his hair, feeling satisfied and tender and so completely loved. âHow long do I have to stay like this?â
âTwenty minutes at least.â His hand finds your belly again, splaying possessively across it. âMaybe thirty to be safe.â
âAnd what are we doing for the next twenty to thirty minutes?â
His eyes darken again and you feel him already starting to harden against your thigh. âWell,â he says thoughtfully, âI can think of a few ways to pass the time. After allââ he rolls you on your side carefully, mindful of the pillow, settling behind you and lifting your leg up and over his hip, ââwe should really make sure weâre being thorough.â
âThorough,â you repeat breathlessly.
âVery thorough,â he agrees, kissing down your neck. âItâs important to be thorough about these things.â
âYouâre insatiable.â
âYouâre irresistible.â He nips at your collarbone. âAnd ovulating. And my wife. Who Iâm trying to get pregnant. So yesââ he enters you again, slow and deep, making you both groan, ââinsatiable sounds about right.â
And as he begins to move again, slow and intimate and perfect, you think that maybe drunk you had the right idea after all.
Sometimes the best conversations happen in the most unexpected ways.
Seungcheol folds you with both legs to your chest and you know your body is going to complain about it later.
âWait, Cheolââ you gasp as he pushes your knees toward your chest, folding you in half.
âTrust me,â he murmurs, his hands hooking under your knees, spreading you open as he presses them down. âThis angleâfuck, baby, you have no ideaââ
And then heâs sliding back in, and ohâheâs right. The angle is incredible. Overwhelming. Heâs somehow even deeper like this, hitting spots that make stars explode behind your eyelids.
âOh my godââ you can barely breathe, pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy.
âThatâs it,â he groans, watching where youâre joined with dark, hungry eyes. âTake it. Take all of me.â
Your flexibility has never been your strong suit and you can already feel the strain in your hips, your thighs protesting the position but the pleasure overrides everything else; the way heâs grinding against you with each thrust, the delicious pressure, the intimacy of being folded completely under him.
âYouâre so deep,â you whimper, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his forearms. âI canâtâŠitâs too muchââ
âNot too much,â he counters, but thereâs a question in his eyes even as he maintains the brutal pace. âColor?â
âGreen,â you gasp immediately. âSo green, donât stop, please donâtâahââ
His thumb finds your clit, circling with perfect pressure, and you nearly scream. Everything is heightened like this, every nerve ending on fire, every thrust punching the air from your lungs.
âGonna keep you just like this,â he pants, sweat dripping down his temple. âGonna fill you up so deep it has to take. You want that?â
âYesâyesâCheol, Iâmââ
âI know, baby. I can feel it.â His movements become more purposeful, grinding deep rather than thrusting, the friction against your clit constant and maddening. âCome for me. Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you want my baby.â
The combination of his words, his thumb, the relentless pressure against that spot deep inside, itâs too much. You shatter with a cry thatâs probably too loud for the morning, clenching around him so hard you see white.
âFuck, just like thatââ Seungcheolâs rhythm falters, his hips jerking erratically as he follows you over the edge for the fourth time, groaning your name like a prayer as he empties himself inside you.
He stays buried deep for a long moment, both of you panting, trembling. Then carefullyâso carefullyâhe releases your legs, helping you straighten them out with gentle hands.
âOw,â you whimper immediately as your hips protest, muscles cramping.
âSorry, sorryââ heâs already massaging your thighs, pressing kisses to your knees. âI got carried away.â
âWorth it,â you manage, even as you wince. âBut Iâm definitely going to feel that tomorrow.â
âIâll give you a massage later,â he promises, still working the tension from your muscles. âA proper one. With oil and everything.â
âYou better.â You reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss. âIâm going to be walking funny for days.â
âGood,â he says against your lips, unrepentant. âLet everyone wonder why.â
âYouâre terrible.â
âYou love it.â He rolls to the side, immediately pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand finds your belly again; itâs apparently his new favorite spot. âThink it worked?â
âCheol, we canât possibly know that yetââ
âBut do you think it worked?â he insists, almost childlike in his eagerness.
You soften, covering his hand with yours. âI donât know, maybe. Weâll have to wait and see.â
âAnd if not?â
âThen we try again,â you say, smiling. âAnd again. As many times as it takes.â
His answering grin is devastating. âI love this plan. Best plan weâve ever had.â
âOf course you love it,â you tease. âYouâre getting sex on demand.â
âIâm getting to start a family with the love of my life,â he corrects, suddenly serious. âThe sex is just a bonus. A really, really good bonus, but still.â
Your throat tightens with emotion. âI love you.â
âI love you too.â He kisses your forehead. âNow, twenty more minutes with your hips elevated, and then Iâm running you a bath.â
âAnd then?â
âAnd then lunch. Hydration. Maybe a nap.â His smile turns wicked. âAnd then round whatever weâre on.â
âAgain?!â
âBaby,â he says solemnly, âweâre not leaving this bed until tomorrow. I told you, Iâm being thorough.â
You should protest. Should remind him you both have lives, responsibilities, that you canât spend an entire day having sex no matter how appealing that sounds but then his hand starts tracing patterns on your belly again and heâs looking at you with such love and want and hope that all protests die in your throat.
âThorough,â you agree weakly. âRight, very important.â
âThe most important,â he confirms and as he settles beside you, already planning the rest of your dayâwhich apparently consists entirely of various positions and strategic pillow placementâyou think that maybe, just maybe, drunk you deserves some credit.
After all, she got the conversation started, even if her methods wereâŠunconventional. Your husband certainly isnât complaining and neitherâdespite your aching hips and the knowledge that you wonât be able to walk straight tomorrowâare you.
The shower was supposed to be innocent, just washing off, getting clean, maybe some gentle aftercare. That lasted approximately three minutes before Seungcheolâs hands started wandering from âhelpfulâ to âdecidedly unhelpful.â
âChoi Seungcheol,â you warned but it came out breathless as his fingers traced your hip. âWeâre supposed to be cleaning up.â
âWe are cleaning up,â he murmured against your neck, pressing you forward until your palms hit the cool tile. âVery thoroughly.â
âThatâs notâohââ
His hand slid between your thighs from behind, finding you still sensitive, still wet with more than just water. âStill ready for me,â he observed, voice dropping an octave. âEven after all that.â
âItâs the hormones,â you managed, even as you arched back into his touch. âI told you, ovulation makes meâfuckââ
âMakes you what?â He was already lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. âInsatiable? Desperate? Willing to let me fuck you against the shower wall?â
âAll of the above,â you gasped as he pushed in, the slide easy despite how much youâd already taken him today.
This time was different, harder, more primal. The tile was cold against your breasts, your cheek, contrasting with the hot water and his body pressed against your back. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly, keeping you in place as he took you apart.
âThis is what you do to me,â he growled in your ear. âWalking around, talking about my baby, being so fucking perfectââ
âCheol, baby pleaseââ
âPlease what?â
âPlease donât stop,â you begged. âPlease, I needââ
âI know what you need.â His other hand found your clit, and you nearly sobbed. âNeed me to breed you. Need me to pump you so fullââ
You came with a sharp cry, clenching around him, and he followed immediately after, groaning against your shoulder as he held you pinned to the wall.
The water was starting to run cold by the time you both caught your breath.
You genuinely thought heâd be tired after the shower. Thought maybe youâd eat, cuddle, take that nap heâd mentioned.
You made it halfway through your sandwich.
âCome here,â Seungcheol said suddenly, pushing his chair back.
âIâm eatingââ
âYou can finish later.â There was something almost feral in his eyes as he stalked around the table toward you. âRight now, I need you bent over this table.â
âChoi Seungcheolââ but you were already standing, already letting him turn you around, already bracing your hands on the polished wood as he flipped up the oversized t-shirt youâd thrown on.
âNo panties again,â he noted with approval. âItâs like you want me to fuck you at every opportunity.â
âMaybe I do,â you shot back, then gasped as he entered you in one smooth thrust.
The angle was perfect, the table the ideal height and he took full advantage of it. His fingers dug into your hips as he set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin obscenely loud in your quiet dining room.
âLook at you,â he panted, gathering your hair in one fist. âTaking it so well. So eager for it. Bet youâd let me fuck you anywhere right now, wouldnât you?â
âYes, god, anywhereââ
âKitchen counter? Bedroom floor? Against the windows where the neighbors might see?â
The thought shouldnât be as hot as it is, but combined with his relentless pace, it pushes you over the edge. You came with a strangled moan, and he wasnât far behind, but he didnât give you time to recover. Just pulled out, ignored your whimper, and guided you to the couch.
âHands on the back,â he instructed. âAss up.â
You were shaking as you obeyed, gripping the back of the couch as he positioned himself behind you again. This angle was even deeper, and you could feel him in your belly with each thrust.
âToo much,â you whimpered, but you didnât use your safeword, didnât actually want him to stop.
âNot too much,â he countered, one hand sliding up your spine. âYou can take it. You can take everything I give you.â And you did, you took it until you were crying with pleasure, until your legs gave out, until he had to hold you up as he finished inside you for theâyouâd lost count at this point.
When he finally pulled out, your legs couldnât support you. You collapsed onto the plush living room carpet, and he followed you down, immediately positioning you on your hands and knees.
âOne more,â he said, voice rough. âJust one more, baby, and then weâll rest.â
âCanâtââ you protested weakly, but your body was already responding, already arching for him.
âYou can.â He slid in easily, and the stretch was almost too much on your oversensitized flesh. âYouâre doing so well. Taking me so perfectly. Gonna make such a good mother.â
The praise broke something in you. You dropped to your elbows, pressing your face into the carpet as he took you with long, deep strokes. There was something almost desperate about it now, like he couldnât get deep enough, close enough, like he was trying to merge you into one person.
âLove you,â he panted. âLove you so fucking much. Gonna give you everything. Everything you want. Everything you deserve.â
You were too far gone to respond with words, could only moan and take it and feel yourself building toward yet another impossible orgasm.
When it hit, it was almost painful in its intensity. You felt him swell inside you, felt the warmth as he came again, and then everything went soft and hazy.
You came back to yourself slowly, aware of gentle hands cleaning you with a warm cloth, of being lifted and carried, of soft sheets against your skin.
âDid I pass out?â you mumbled.
âJust for a minute.â Seungcheol sounded worried now, the feral intensity finally broken. âIâm sorry, I got carried awayââ
âDonât apologize.â You caught his hand, pressing it to your cheek. âThat wasâŠI didnât know you had that in you.â
He laughed shakily. âNeither did I. I justâwhen you said you wanted a baby, something in my brain justâŠshort-circuited.â
âClearly.â You shifted, wincing at the soreness. âIâm going to be feeling this for a week.â
âIâll take care of you,â he promised immediately. âBath, massage, whatever you need. Iâm sorryââ
âStop apologizing.â You pulled him down beside you. âI liked it. Loved it, actually. I justâŠdidnât expect the conversation about trying for a baby to turn my usually controlled husband intoâŠthat.â
âInto what?â
âInto someone who fucks me in every room of the house,â you say bluntly. âWho canât go an hour without being inside me. Who looks at me like he wants to devour me.â
He flushed. âThe ovulation thing wasnât helping. Knowing youâre fertile right now, that any of these times could be the oneââ he broke off, shaking his head. âIt did something to me.â
âI noticed.â You traced his jaw. âFor the record? Iâm not complaining. Iâm just surprised and very, very sore.â
âNap now,â he decided. âThen massage. Then dinner. And thenââ
âIf you say âand then round whatever number weâre on,â Iâm divorcing you.â
He grinned, unrepentant. âI was going to say âand then weâll see how you feel.ââ
âUh-huh. Sure you were.â
âBut if youâre feeling up to itâŠâ His hand slid to your belly again. âWe should probably maximize our chances.â
You stared at him. âYouâre actually insatiable.â
âOnly with you.â He kissed your forehead. âOnly ever with you.â
And despite the soreness, despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that youâd had more sex in one day than most couples have in a month, you found yourself smiling because this was your husband. Your partner. The father of your future children and if his method of âtrying for a babyâ involved fucking you in every room of the house until you couldnât walk straight?
Well.
Youâd had worse problems.
âFine,â you conceded. âBut after a nap and a massage, youâre carrying me everywhere for the next week.â
âDeal,â he agreed immediately, already pulling you closer.
Nothing came from that day of marathon sex but with how feral your husband had gotten that day you knew something had awakened in him that would be hard to reign in which is how you found yourself in your current position, bent over the balcony of your bedroom at the Airbnb that had been booked for his work trip to Hawaii which he insisted you come on. Something about a second honeymoon.
You should have known something was up when Seungcheol insisted you come on his work trip.
âItâs Hawaii,â heâd said, showing you the booking confirmation with an innocence that should have been your first warning. âWeâve never been. Plus, my meetings are only in the mornings. Weâd have the afternoons and evenings together.â
âA second honeymoon,â heâd called it with that devastating smile.
What heâd failed to mention was that the âtrying for a babyâ conversation had apparently permanently rewired something in his brain.
Youâd learned this over the past few weeks. The man who used to be controlled, measured, professional in every aspect of his life had developed a hair-trigger when it came to you. A lingering glance, your hand on his thigh at dinner, the way you bit your lip while concentratingâany of it could result in him finding the nearest private surface and bending you over it.
The office after hours? Check.
The car in the parking garage? Check.
The fitting room at the boutique where youâd been shopping for maternity clothes (optimistically)? Very much check.
But thisâthis was a new level, even for him.
âCheol,â you hissed, gripping the balcony railing as he pressed against your back, his hands already pushing up your sundress. âWeâre outside. Someone could seeââ
âThe nearest villa is hundreds of feet away,â he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. âNo one can see unless theyâre in a helicopter.â
âThatâs not the pointââ
âThe point,â he interrupted, one hand sliding between your thighs to find you already wetâbecause of course you wereâyour body had learned to anticipate him now, âis that youâve been walking around all day in this dress. This tiny, barely-there dress. Bending over to pick up seashells. Stretching in the sun. Driving me insane.â
âWe were on the beach,â you protested weakly, even as you arched back into him. âWhat was I supposed to wear?â
âNothing.â His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them aside. âPreferably nothing.â
You were about to respond when he pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, and all coherent thought fled. Your fingers tightened on the railing as he set a deep, rolling rhythm that had you biting your lip to keep quiet.
âThatâs it,â he encouraged, one hand gripping your hip while the other slid up to cup your breast through the fabric. âTake it. Take all of me.â
The view from the balcony was stunning; turquoise water stretching to the horizon, white sand beaches, palm trees swaying in the breeze. The sun was setting, painting everything gold and pink. It should be romantic.
It was romantic. Just also obscene.
âGod, you feel so good,â Seungcheol groaned, picking up his pace. âSo perfect. Made for me. Made to take my cock. Made to carry my baby.â
There it was, the thing that set him off every time. The baby talk. Ever since that day, since youâd opened that door, he couldnât seem to help himself. It was like the idea of getting you pregnant had become an obsession.
âCheolââ you gasped, trying to keep your voice down even as pleasure built in your core. âSomeone might hearââ
âLet them hear.â His hand slid from your breast to your throat, tilting your head back. âLet them hear how good I make you feel. How well you take me. How desperate you are for my baby.â
âYouâre insane,â you managed, but it came out more like a moan.
âYou made me this way.â His lips brushed your ear. âWalking around, talking about wanting my babies, being so fucking perfectâyou broke something in me, baby. Canât think straight anymore. Canât function unless Iâm inside you.â
His hand left your throat to slide down your body, finding your clit with practiced ease. The dual sensationâhim inside you, his fingers working you expertlyâwas too much.
âThatâs it,â he encouraged as you started to tremble. âCome for me. Come on my cock while I fill you up. Maybe this time itâll take. Maybe in nine months youâll be here with my baby in your belly.â
The image he paintedâyou pregnant, round with his childâcombined with his relentless pace pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry you couldnât quite muffle, clenching around him and felt him follow seconds later with a groan. He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, the sound of waves crashing below mixing with your racing heartbeats.
âWe need to talk about this,â you finally said, even as you melted back against his chest.
âAbout what?â He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, still not pulling out.
âAbout thisââ you gestured vaguely, ââthing thatâs happened to you. This breeding kink youâve developed.â
You felt him smile against your skin. âIs it a kink if weâre actively trying for a baby?â
âCheol, weâve had sex multiple times everyday in the last week. Everyday.â
âYouâre counting?â
âHard not to when I can barely walk straight.â You turned your head to look at him. âDonât get me wrong, Iâm not complaining about the sex. The sex is incredible but youâve beenâŠintense. Ever since that conversation.â
His expression shifted, becoming more serious. He finally pulled outâyou whimpered at the lossâand turned you around to face him, hands gentle on your waist.
âI know,â he admitted. âIâve beenâŠI donât know how to explain it. Itâs like something clicked that day, and I canât turn it off. Every time I look at you, I think about getting you pregnant. About you carrying our baby. About our family. And it justââ he broke off, looking almost embarrassed. âIt does something to me. Makes me crazy.â
âIâve noticed,â you said dryly.
âIs it too much?â There was genuine concern in his eyes now. âAm I being too much? Because if you need me to dial it backââ
âNo,â you interrupted quickly. âI mean, yes, itâs a lot but itâs alsoâŠkind of hot? Knowing you want me that badly. That youâre that desperate to start our family.â
His eyes darkened. âYou have no idea how badly I want you. How much I want this.â
âIâm getting a pretty clear picture,â you teased, feeling him already starting to harden against your thigh. âCase in point.â
He huffed a laugh. âCan you blame me? Youâre standing here, freshly fucked, my cum dripping down your thighs, the sunset making you glow and youâre surprised I want you again?â
âWe literally just finishedââ
âAnd Iâm already thinking about round two.â His hands slid down to cup your ass. âAnd three. And four. We have all night, baby. No work tomorrow. No interruptions. Just you and me and this view and a very comfortable bed inside.â
âYouâre impossible.â
âYou love it.â He kissed you, deep and slow. âNow, shower, dinner and then Iâm taking you apart in that massive bed. Sound good?â
It sounded perfect, actually. Even if your husband had apparently turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation. Especially because your husband had turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation.
âOne condition,â you said as he started leading you inside.
âAnything.â
âWhen we get home, weâre making a doctorâs appointment. To make sure weâre doing everything right. That Iâm healthy. All of it.â
His expression softened. âOf course. Whatever you need. Iâll set it up as soon as weâre back.â
âAnd maybeââ you bit your lip, ââmaybe we dial it back just a little? Donât get me wrong, I love the enthusiasm, but Iâd like to still be able to walk when we get home.â
He grinned. âNo promises but Iâll try.â
âThatâs all I ask.â
As he pulled you inside to the shower, his hands already wandering again, you thought about how much had changed in just a few weeks. Your controlled, measured husband had been replaced by someone who couldnât keep his hands off you. Who fucked you on balconies and whispered filthy promises about getting you pregnant. Who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
The test from last week had been negative. Youâd both been disappointed but not surprised, these things took time but watching Seungcheol now, the way he touched you with reverence even as his eyes promised wickedness, you knew something had fundamentally shifted between you.
This wasnât just about making a baby anymore. It was about the intensity of wanting something together. About the intimacy of trying. About how the goal had somehow made everythingâevery touch, every kiss, every time he was inside youâfeel weighted with meaning and possibility.
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asked, soaping your shoulders.
âAbout how that drunk conversation might have been the best terrible decision I ever made.â
He laughed. âOh, it was definitely terrible. But yeah,â he pulled you close, âalso the best.â
âEven though I asked if youâd love me as a worm?â
âEspecially because you asked if Iâd love you as a worm.â He kissed your forehead. âNow come on. We have dinner reservations in an hour and I plan on having you at least twice before then.â
âTwice?! Cheol, we justââ
But he was already lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and honestly? You werenât complaining, not even a little bit.
Your insatiable, baby-crazy, utterly perfect husband. You wouldnât change a thing.
You didnât make it to dinner.
Well, not the reservation anyway. By the time Seungcheol had finished with you in the shower and then carried you to the bed still dripping wet, you were both too boneless and satisfied to even consider getting dressed and going out. Instead, heâd ordered take outâan absurd amount of foodâand youâd eaten on the balcony wrapped in plush robes, watching the stars come out over the ocean.
âThis is nice,â you murmured, stealing a bite of his dessert. âRomantic. Almost makes me forget youâve turned into a caveman.â
He raised an eyebrow. âCaveman?â
âMhm.â You grinned. âMe want baby. Me fuck wife constantly. Me carry wife everywhere because wife canât walkââ
He silenced you with a kiss, tasting like chocolate and coconut. âI donât hear you complaining when Iâm making you come.â
âThatâs because my brain stops working when youâre making me come.â
âMission accomplished then.â His hand found yours on the table, fingers interlacing. âBut seriously, are we okay? This isnât too much?â
You squeezed his hand. âWeâre more than okay. I promise. Yes, youâve been insatiable. Yes, Iâm going to need a week to recover when we get home. But Cheol,â you met his eyes, âI love seeing you like this. Passionate. Uninhibited. Itâs like youâve finally let yourself want something without overthinking it.â
âI want you,â he said simply. âI want our family and yeah, maybe Iâve gone a little crazy about it, butâŠâ he shrugged, unapologetic, âIâm not sorry.â
âGood.â You stood, letting your robe slip off your shoulders. âBecause Iâm not done with you yet either.â
His eyes went dark, tracking the fall of fabric. âYeah?â
âYeah.â You moved to straddle his lap, the balmy night air warm on your skin. âWe have four more days in paradise. Might as well make the most of them.â
âFour more days,â he repeated, hands spanning your waist. âThink we can set a record?â
âFor what? Most times having sex in a single vacation?â
âI was thinking most creative locations, but that works too.â His thumbs traced circles on your hipbones. âThereâs the beach at night. The private pool. That hammock near theââ
âYouâve been planning this.â
âMaybe.â He pulled you down for a kiss. âCan you blame me? My beautiful wife, a tropical paradise, and no responsibilities for four whole days? Iâm going to worship you in every way possible.â
And he did.
You woke to his mouth between your thighs, the sunrise painting the room in shades of gold and pink. He brought you to orgasm twice before you were even fully awake and then pulled you into the shower where he took you against the tiles while water cascaded over you both.
Breakfast was served on the balcony, and you made it through most of your meal before he was pulling you onto his lap, pushing your sundress up, filling you while you clutched his shoulders and tried to keep quiet.
âLove you like this,â he murmured against your neck as you rode him slowly. âSun-kissed, desperate and so fucking wet for me.â
âAlways wet for you,â you gasped. âCanât help it.â
âGood.â His hands guided your hips, helping you find the perfect angle. âNever want you any other way.â
Later, he kept his promise about the hammock. Youâd been reading peacefully in the shade when he appeared with that look in his eyes and suddenly your book was forgotten as he stripped you down and arranged you across the swaying fabric.
âCheol, this is going to tipââ
âIâve got you,â he promised and he did, holding the hammock steady as he knelt between your legs and proved that his mouth was just as talented as the rest of him. By the time he finally entered you, you were already trembling, oversensitive, and the gentle sway of the hammock with each thrust was unlike anything youâd experienced.
âThis is insane,â you laughed breathlessly.
âThis is perfect,â he corrected and the way he looked at youâlike you were the only thing in his universeâmade your chest tight with emotion.
His morning meeting ran long and youâd gone down to the beach alone, content to swim and sunbathe and give your body a much-needed break. You should have known better. You were waist-deep in the crystal-clear water when you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
âMeeting over?â you asked, leaning back against his chest.
âCancelled the rest.â His lips found that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. âTold them it was a family emergency.â
âCheol! You canât justââ
âCanât just what? Choose my wife over a conference call about quarterly projections?â His hand slid down your stomach, disappearing beneath the water. âPretty sure I can since yâknow, Iâm the boss.â
âSomeone could seeââ
âNo oneâs around.â And he was rightâthe beach was completely empty, the nearest people just tiny dots in the distance. âAnd youâre wearing this bikini. This tiny, barely-there bikini. What did you expect?â
âI expected to swim peacefullyâohââ
His fingers had found their target, working you expertly while his other arm banded around your waist, holding you against him.
âCan you be quiet?â he murmured. âOr are you going to let the whole beach know how good I make you feel?â
You bit your lip, trying desperately to stay silent as he worked you closer to the edge. The water lapped around you, warm and gentle and the contrast between the peaceful setting and what he was doing to you was almost too much.
âThatâs it,â he encouraged. âCome for me, baby. Right here in the ocean where anyone could see how desperate you are for me.â
You came with a strangled gasp, your legs giving out and only his arm around your waist kept you upright.
âGood girl,â he praised, turning you around. âNow, think you can stay quiet while I fuck you?â
You couldnât, as it turned out but the beach stayed empty, and Seungcheol didnât seem to mind your breathless cries as he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he entered you in the warm, shallow water.
The private pool became his new favorite place. Youâd lost count of how many times heâd taken you there; bent over the edge, pressed against the infinity wall overlooking the ocean, on the submerged lounger, against the smooth rocks of the artificial waterfall.
âWeâre never leaving,â he declared as the sun set on your last full day. âIâm cancelling our flights. We live here now.â
âWe have jobs,â you reminded him, though you were currently in his lap in the pool, still joined, neither of you in any hurry to move.
âWeâll work remotely. Iâll buy this villa. Weâll raise our kids here.â
âKids, plural?â
âAt least three.â His hands slid over your belly, possessive and tender. âMaybe four.â
âLetâs start with one,â you laughed. âSee how we do.â
âWeâll do perfectly.â He kissed you slowly. âYouâre going to be an amazing mother.â
âAnd youâre going to be an amazing father.â You cupped his face. âEven if you are a sex-crazed maniac right now.â
âOnly for you,â he promised. âOnly ever for you.â
You woke early, bodies tangled together, the sound of waves your only alarm. Seungcheol was already awake, watching you with that soft expression that still made your heart skip.
âMorning,â you murmured.
âMorning.â He brushed hair from your face. âLast day.â
âDonât remind me.â You snuggled closer. âIâm not ready to go back to reality.â
âMe neither.â His hand found your belly again,it was becoming a habit. âBut weâll take this with us. This feeling. This certainty.â
âThe certainty that you canât keep your hands off me?â
âThe certainty that weâre ready for this. For our family. For our future.â He shifted, rolling you beneath him. âAnd yeah, also the certainty that Iâll never get enough of you.â
The morning light filtered through the curtains as he made love to you slowly, tenderly, so different from the frantic desperation of the past few days. This was soft and sweet and full of promise.
âI love you,â he whispered against your lips. âSo much. More than I can say.â
âI love you too,â you breathed. âEven when youâre being insane.â
âEspecially when Iâm being insane,â he corrected with a grin and as you lay together afterward, wrapped in each other and the morning warmth, you thought about the past few weeks. The conversation that started it all. The shift in your relationship. The intensity and passion and sheer want of it all.
You still didnât know if you were pregnant yet. Wouldnât know for another week at least but somehow, it didnât matter as much as you thought it would. Because you had this. Had him. Had the absolute certainty that whatever happened, you were in it together. Even if your husband had apparently developed a permanent breeding kink in the process. You could think of worse problems to have.
âRound two?â Seungcheol murmured hopefully against your neck.
You laughed. âWe have to pack. And check out. And catch a flight.â
âSo thatâs a yes to a quickie before all that?â
âYouâre impossible.â
âYou love it.â
And because he was rightâbecause you did love it, loved him, loved this new chapter you were writing togetherâyou pulled him down for a kiss.
âMake it quick,â you warned. âWe actually do need to pack.â
His answering grin was wicked. âOh baby, I havenât done anything quick with you since university.â
He was right about that too. You missed your flight but honestly?
Totally worth it.
The next few months go by in blur of your everyday life and the fact that you and your husband behaved like two virgins in a whorehouse at every given opportunity. He had somewhat simmered down, a work project keeping him busy and away from you for the past month.
You knew he was stressed so tonight you had planned to treat him, leaving work early to set up everything and it was well worth it when he comes through the door of your home calling out for you. He asks what smells so good before he stops when he takes in the way youâre dressed, in that cherry red dress he loves, and his mind starts wandering to important dates.
âDid I forget something?â
You turn from the stove, wooden spoon in hand and canât help but smile at the panic already creeping into his expression. Seungcheol stands frozen in the doorway, briefcase still in hand, tie loosened, eyes frantically scanning you for clues.
âDid I forgetââ he starts again, more urgently this time. âIs it our anniversary? Your birthday? Some other importantââ
âRelax,â you interrupt, setting down the spoon and crossing to him. âYou didnât forget anything.â
âThen why are you wearing that dress?â His eyes drag over you, taking in the cherry red fabric that hugs every curve, the neckline that shows just enough to be distracting. âYou only wear that dress for special occasions.â
âMaybe I just wanted to look nice for my husband,â you say innocently, reaching up to loosen his tie the rest of the way. âIs that a crime?â
His hands find your waist automatically, pulling you closer. âYouâre up to something.â
âMaybe.â You stretch up to kiss him softly. âOr maybe I just missed you. Youâve been working so much lately.â
Something in his expression shifts, guilt mixing with exhaustion. âI know. This project has been insane. Iâm sorry, baby. Iâve barely been home and when I am, Iâm usually passed out or distractedââ
âWhich is exactly why I wanted to do something nice tonight.â You smooth your hands over his chest. âSo,no work talk. No stress. Just dinner, wine, and your wife whoâs been very lonely without you.â
His eyes darken at that. âLonely?â
âMhmm.â You let your fingers trail down his abdomen. âVery lonely. Do you know how long itâs been since youâve touched me?â
âTwenty-two days,â he says immediately and you blink in surprise.
âYouâve been counting?â
âOf course Iâve been counting.â His grip tightens on your waist. âYou think I havenât noticed? That I havenât been dying every night, coming home to you already asleep, leaving before you wake up? Iâve been going insane.â
âHave you?â You press closer, feeling him already starting to respond. âBecause you seemed pretty absorbed in your work.â
âThe only reason Iâve been able to focus on work is because Iâve been channeling all my sexual frustration into spreadsheets and project timelines.â His forehead drops to yours. âIâve missed you so much. Missed this. Missed touching you.â
âWell,â you slide your hands up to his shoulders, âdinnerâs going to take another twenty minutes. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?â
âTwenty minutes?â Heâs already backing you toward the counter. âI can work with twenty minutes.â
âCheol,â you laugh as he lifts you onto the granite, âwe eat here.â
âWeâve done worse shit here.â Heâs already pushing your dress up your thighs, and his eyes go even darker when he discovers what youâre not wearing. âNo underwear. You really were planning this.â
âMaybe I was planning to torture you through dinner,â you tease. âMake you wait. Make you suffer.â
âFuck that.â He drops to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the counter. âIâve suffered enough. Now Iâm collecting.â
Your protest dies as his mouth finds you and suddenly the simmering pots on the stove are the last thing on your mind.
Dinner is slightly overcooked by the time you both make it to the tableâflushed, disheveled, and thoroughly satisfied. Seungcheol keeps apologizing for ruining your perfect meal but you just laugh and pour more wine.
âItâs fine,â you assure him, serving the pasta thatâs only a little too soft. âThis was kind of the plan anyway.â
âTo seduce me before dinner?â
âTo remind you that I still exist.â You raise your glass. âThat we exist. Outside of work and stress and trying to conceive and everything else.â
His expression softens. âI know we exist. I always know that.â
âBut youâve been distant,â you say gently. âAnd I get it, this project has been huge, and youâre under a lot of pressure but CheolâŠâ you reach across the table for his hand, âIâve missed my husband. Not just the sex, though yes, definitely that but you. Talking to you. Laughing with you. Just being with you.â
He squeezes your hand, looking guilty. âIâm sorry. I didnât realizeâI thought I was handling it okay, but I guess Iâve been shutting you out.â
âA little bit,â you admit. âAnd I know itâs not intentional. You get focused on work and everything else fades but we canât let that happen, especially not now when weâre trying to start a family.â
âYouâre right.â He stands, moving his chair closer to yours so he can pull you against his side. âIâm sorry. Really. The project wraps up next week, and then Iâm all yours. No more late nights. No more missing dinner. No moreââ
âNo more twenty-two day dry spells?â you supply with a grin.
âEspecially no more dry spells.â His hand slides up your thigh. âIn fact, I think I need to make up for lost time.â
âWe havenât even finished dinner.â
âWe can reheat it.â Heâs already pulling you into his lap. âRight now, I need to apologize properly to my wife for neglecting her.â
âHow do you plan to do that?â
His smile turns wicked. âI have some ideas.â
Youâre curled up on the couch together, plates pushed aside, wine glasses empty, and youâre finally feeling like you have your husband back.
âSo,â Seungcheol says, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder; your dress didnât survive the transition from dining room to living room, âI actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.â
âHmm?â Youâre pleasantly drowsy, content in a way you havenât been in weeks.
âAbout the baby thing.â
That gets your attention. You sit up a little, looking at him. âWhat about it?â
Heâs quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. âWeâve been trying for almost three months now. And I know thatâs not that long in the grand scheme of things, butâŠI donât know. I guess I thought it would happen faster.â
Your chest tightens. Youâve been thinking the same thing but havenât wanted to say it out loud. âYeah. Me too.â
âAnd I was thinkingâmaybe we should make that doctorâs appointment. Like you said. Just to make sure everythingâs okay. That weâre doing everything right.â
âOkay,â you agree softly. âYeah, we can do that.â
âIâm not worried,â he adds quickly. âI mean, I am a little worried, but mostly I just want to be proactive. Make sure weâre giving ourselves the best chance.â
You cup his face, making him look at you. âHey. Three months is nothing. The doctor will probably tell us to keep trying and come back in a year if nothing happens.â
âI know, butââ he breaks off, frustrated. âI just want this so badly. Want to give you this and every time another month goes by and the test is negative, I feel like Iâm failing somehow.â
âYouâre not failing,â you say firmly. âThis isnât something we can control. It happens when it happens.â
âI know that in my head. But in my heart,â his hand finds your belly, âIâm impatient.â
âIâve noticed,â you tease gently. âThe whole âacting like virgins in a whorehouseâ thing kind of gave it away.â
He huffs a laugh. âWas I that bad?â
âYou were that eager,â you correct. âWhich was actually pretty hot. Still is, when youâre not drowning in spreadsheets.â
âNo more spreadsheets,â he promises. âProjectâs almost done, and then Iâm taking some time off. Weâll go somewhere. Relax. Maybe not having so much stress will help.â
âMaybe.â You kiss him softly. âBut either way, weâre in this together, okay? Whether it happens next month or next year, weâll figure it out.â
âTogether,â he agrees, pulling you closer.
You settle back against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, and try to ignore the small kernel of worry thatâs been growing with each negative test.
Three months isnât that long but it feels longer when you want something so badly. When every month brings hope and then disappointment. When you see the look on your husbandâs face each time that single line appears instead of two.
âHey,â Seungcheol murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. âNo spiraling. Weâre okay.â
âWeâre okay,â you repeat.
And you are, you will be. Even if it takes longer than expected. Even if the road is harder than you hoped. You have him, and he has you, and thatâs what matters.
Everything else will come in time, you just have to keep believing that.
Seungcheol had accompanied you to your usual checkup with your doctor and youâre currently waiting for your results to come back. When she enters with your files thereâs a look on her face you canât really read.
âIs there something wrong?â Seungcheol asks, his hand squeezing yours tighter.
âWell, that depends Mr. Choi,â she says before turning to you. âThis happens quite often and I know it can be a shock, but I hope you both will make the decision that suits you best.â
The suspense is killing you and before you can ask what she means she says âMrs. Choi, did you know that youâre three months pregnant?â
âQue?â
You must be hearing things. You took tests, hell you had a period two weeks ago. The room tilts slightly, and youâre glad youâre already sitting down.
âIâmâwhat?â Your voice comes out strangled, disbelieving. âThatâs notâI canât be. Iâve been having my period.â
Dr. Kimâs expression softens with understanding. âWhat you experienced was likely implantation bleeding and spotting, which can be mistaken for a light period. Itâs more common than youâd think. Based on your blood work and the ultrasound we just did, youâre measuring at about twelve weeks.â
âTwelve weeks,â you repeat numbly. Your mind is racing, trying to do the math. Twelve weeks ago wasâŠ
âHawaii,â Seungcheol breathes beside you, and when you look at him, his face has gone pale. âThat was twelve weeks ago.â
Dr. Kim pulls up something on her computer screen, turning it so you can see and there it is. A tiny blob on the screen, barely distinguishable, but with a flickering white spot in the center.
âThatâs the heartbeat,â Dr. Kim says gently, pointing. âStrong and healthy.â
Your own heart seems to stop entirely.
âButââ youâre struggling to process this, ââIâve taken at least four pregnancy tests in the past two months. They were all negative.â
âHow early were you testing?â
âI donât knowâa few days before my period? And then after what I thought was my periodâŠâ
âThatâs likely why. Some women donât produce enough HCG hormone early on for home tests to detect. Itâs rare, but it happens.â Dr. Kimâs smile is warm, reassuring. âBut your levels now are exactly where they should be for twelve weeks. Youâre pregnant, Mrs. Choi. Congratulations.â
The word hangs in the air between you and Seungcheol.
Pregnant. Youâre pregnant. Youâve been pregnant for three months and didnât know.
âIââ your voice cracks, ââIâve been drinking coffee. And I had wine at dinner last week. And I, oh god, Iâve been taking ibuprofen for my headachesââ
âHey, hey,â Dr. Kim interrupts gently. âLetâs take a breath. Small amounts of caffeine are fine. One glass of wine before you knew wonât hurt anything. And occasional ibuprofen, while not ideal, isnât going to cause problems at this stage. Your baby looks perfectly healthy.â
Your baby.
âI canâtââ you turn to Seungcheol, and the expression on his face nearly breaks you. He looks stunned, overwhelmed, and like he might cry at any moment. âCheolââ
âWeâre having a baby,â he says, voice rough with emotion. âWeâre actuallyâŠholy shit, weâre having a baby.â And then he is crying, tears streaming down his face as he pulls you into a tight embrace.
âYou said there was a decision to make?â Seungcheol asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at Dr. Kim with concern. âIs something wrong? You saidââ
âOh, noâIâm sorry, I worded that poorly.â Dr. Kim looks apologetic. âI just meant that unexpected pregnancies can be a shock, and I wanted to make sure you knew you had options. But if this is welcome newsââ
âItâs welcome,â you say immediately, even as your hands are shaking. âVery welcome. Weâve been trying. We justâwe didnât know it had already worked.â
âWell thenâtruly, congratulations.â Dr. Kim starts printing out information. âIâm going to refer you to an OB for your ongoing care. Youâll want to schedule your first official prenatal appointment within the next week or two. Iâm printing out the ultrasound photo for you, and some information about what to expect in your first trimesterâthough youâre already almost through it.â
Almost through the first trimester. Youâre almost through the first trimester and you had no idea.
âCan youââ your voice is shaky, ââcan you print two copies of the ultrasound? Please?â
âOf course.â Dr. Kim smiles knowingly. âMost parents want several.â
Parents. Youâre going to be parents. The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Dr. Kim goes over nutrition, what to expect, warning signs to watch for, answering questions that Seungcheol asks because you seem to have lost the ability to form coherent sentences.
By the time you make it back to the car, youâre both silent, clutching the ultrasound photos like lifelines. Seungcheol doesnât start the car. Just sits there, staring at the grainy black and white image in his hands.
âWe made this,â he finally says, voice thick. âIn Hawaii. In that villa with the ocean view. We made our baby.â
âAll those times,â you whisper, then laugh slightly hysterically. âAll those months we kept trying, and it had already happened. We were already pregnant duringâoh my god, we were pregnant when you bent me over the dining room table last monthââ
âAnd in the shower last week,â he adds, then starts laughing too, slightly wild. âAnd on the counter. AndâJesus, weâve been having incredibly athletic sex while pregnant.â
âDr. Kim said itâs fineââ
âI know, I justââ he runs a hand through his hair, ââI canât believe we didnât know. How did we not know?â
âI donât know.â Youâre staring at your own copy of the ultrasound, at that tiny blob thatâs apparently your baby. Your baby whoâs been growing inside you for weeks while you had no idea. âI feel like I should have known. Like my body should have told me somehow.â
âHey.â Seungcheol reaches over, taking your hand. âThis is okay, right? This isâwe wanted this.â
âWe wanted this,â you confirm, squeezing back. âIâm justâŠIâm in shock. Are you in shock?â
âCompletely.â He brings your hand to his lips. âBut also, baby, weâre having a baby. Weâre actually having a baby.â
The reality of it starts to sink in, and suddenly youâre crying too. Happy tears, overwhelmed tears, scared tears, all mixed together.
âWeâre having a baby,â you repeat, and it feels more real each time you say it. âInâoh god, when? When am I due?â
Seungcheol scrambles for the paperwork Dr. Kim gave you. âIt saysâŠJune. June tenth. Holy shit, thatâs only six months away.â
âSix months.â You press a hand to your stomach, which still looks completely normal. âThereâs a baby in there. Right now. With a heartbeat.â
âThe fastest heartbeat in the world,â Seungcheol says, smiling through his tears. âDid you hear how fast it was going? Like theyâre already excited to meet us.â
âThey.â The pronoun makes it more real somehow. âWeâre going to have a tiny human. Who depends on us for everything. Who weâre responsible for.â
âAre you freaking out?â he asks gently.
âLittle bit. You?â
âCompletely.â But heâs smiling, radiant, more happy than youâve ever seen him. âBut also,Iâve never been more excited about anything in my life.â You lean over the center console to kiss him, tasting salt from both your tears and his.
âWeâre going to be parents,â you whisper against his lips.
âBest parents ever,â he promises. âThis kid is going to be so loved.â
âSo spoiled.â
âThat too.â He pulls back just enough to cup your face. âThank you.â
âFor what?â
âFor this. For giving me this. Forââ his voice breaks, ââfor making me a father.â
âCheolââ now youâre really crying, ââyou did half the work.â
âYeah, but youâre the one growing them. Carrying them. Creating an entire human being inside you.â His hand moves to your stomach, reverent. âYouâre incredible.â
âAsk me again in four months when Iâm huge and miserable and demanding pickles at 3 AM.â
âStill incredible.â He kisses you again. âNow, we need to celebrate. And tell people. Andâoh god, my mom is going to lose her mind. Your mom is going to cry. Jeonghan is going to make fun of me for crying earlierââ
âWe donât have to tell anyone right away,â you interrupt. âIâm only twelve weeks. A lot can stillââ you canât finish the sentence, but he understands.
âYouâre right. Weâll wait. Just, maybe a little longer? Until weâre into the second trimester?â
âWhich is only a few more weeks now,â you realize. âWeâre already almost there.â
âWeâre already almost there,â he repeats wonderingly. Then, more firmly, âOkay, new plan. We go home. We process this. We maybe have a minor freak out and then we start planning.â
âPlanning what?â
âEverything.â His smile is infectious. âNursery. Names. Parenting books. Baby-proofing. Everything we need to do in the next six months to get ready for this tiny human whoâs apparently already been along for the ride.â
You look down at the ultrasound again, at that flickering heartbeat frozen in time. Your baby. Made in paradise, growing in secret, already loved beyond measure.
âLetâs go home,â you say softly.
Seungcheol finally starts the car, but before he pulls out, he looks at you one more time.
âI love you,â he says. âYou and our little blob.â
âI love you too.â You press your hand over his on your stomach. âAll three of us.â And as he drives home, both of you stealing glances at the ultrasound photos, you think about how everything has changed in the span of one appointment.
All those months of trying.
All that hoping and waiting and disappointment and it had already worked.
Your baby had been there all along, growing quietly, waiting to surprise you. Just like everything else with Seungcheolâunexpected, intense, and absolutely perfect.
Even if you had been doing very athletic things while pregnant without knowing it.
Youâd probably need to apologize to your baby for that eventually but for now, you just hold the ultrasound close and let yourself feel it.
Pure, overwhelming joy.
Youâre going to be a mom and Seungcheol is going to be a dad. In six months, your family of two is going to become three.
Best surprise ever.
You both still havenât told anyone and itâs been two months since you found out. Your body hasnât changed much but your need for your husband has which has made Seungcheol work from home twice now and this morning is no different when he wakes up with your mouth on him.
Seungcheol wakes slowly, consciousness returning in gradual waves. Thereâs warmth, wetness, and a familiar pressure that has him groaning before heâs even fully awake.
âFuck, babyââ His hand instinctively goes to your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. Youâre under the covers, between his legs and the sight when he lifts the duvet nearly finishes him right thereâyour eyes meeting his as you take him deeper.
âWhat are youâoh godâwhat time is it?â
You pull off with an obscene pop, your hand replacing your mouth as you stroke him slowly. âAbout six thirty. You have a meeting at nine.â
âThen why are youââ his words cut off as you lick a stripe up his length, ââtrying to kill me?â
âBecause,â you pause to take him in your mouth again, working him in that way that makes his brain short-circuit, before pulling back, â I need youâŠagain.â
âAgain?â His laugh is strained. âBaby, love we went three rounds last night. How are youââ
âPregnant,â you finish, crawling up his body. Youâre wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else and when you straddle him, he can feel how wet you already are. âIâm pregnant and my hormones are insane and I canât stop thinking about you inside me.â
âNot complaining,â he manages, hands gripping your hips as you position yourself above him. âJust concerned about your poorâJesusââ
You sink down on him in one smooth motion and his concern evaporates. Youâre so wet, so ready, that he slides in effortlessly despite no preparation.
âFuck, you feel good,â you moan, starting to move. âSo good. Why do you always feel so good?â
Seungcheol canât answer because his brain has officially stopped working. Youâre riding him in the early morning light, his t-shirt riding up to reveal the slight swell of your stomach, barely visible but there. Evidence of your baby growing inside you.
His baby. The thought still makes him feral.
âThatâs it,â he encourages, helping you find your rhythm. âTake what you need. Use me.â
And you do, you ride him with an urgency thatâs become familiar over the past two months. Dr. Kim had warned you that increased libido was common in the second trimester, but this was beyond anything either of you expected. Not that Seungcheol is complaining.
âCheol,â youâre already close, he can tell by the way youâre clenching around him, âtouch me, please.â
His thumb finds your clit, circling with practiced pressure and you come apart with a cry that could wake the neighbors. He follows seconds later, pulling you down onto him as he empties inside you. You collapse on his chest, both of you breathing hard.
âIâm calling in sick,â he announces.
âYou canât. You have that important meetingââ
âThen youâre coming to the home office with me,â he decides, rolling you both over so heâs hovering above you. âBecause if the past two months have taught me anything, itâs that youâre going to need me again in approximatelyââ he checks his watch, ââtwo hours and Iâd rather be here than trying to take a âlunch breakâ or hoping my camera stays off.â
You laugh, remembering last week when heâd had to abruptly mute himself because youâd walked into his office wearing nothing but a smile.
âThat was your fault for working from home in grey sweatpants,â you point out.
âEverything is apparently my fault now.â But heâs smiling as he says it, pressing kisses down your neck. âYou needed water at 3 AM? My fault for getting you pregnant. Your jeans donât fit? My fault. You cried at that commercial with the puppy? Definitely my fault.â
âIt was a very sad commercial,â you defend, even as youâre arching into his kisses. âAnd yes, this is literally all your fault. You and yourââ you gesture vaguely at him, ââyour everything.â
âMy everything?â Heâs laughing now, working his way down your body.
âYour face. Your body. YourâCheol, what are you doing?â
âWellââ he settles between your thighs, ââif Iâm working from home anyway, might as well make sure youâre thoroughly satisfied before my first meeting.â
âYou justâŠwe literally justââ
âAnd youâre going to need me again soon anyway,â he points out reasonably. âMight as well get ahead of it.â His mouth finds you and your protests dissolve into moans.
Seungcheol is forty-five minutes into his video call when you appear in the doorway of his office. He sees you in his peripheral vision and tries to focus on the presentation his colleague is giving but youâre wearing that look. That needy, desperate, âI need you right nowâ look.
He mutes himself and mouths, After this meeting.
You pout. Actually pout. Then you do something that nearly makes him fall out of his chair; you pull up your dress to show him your stomach, running your hand over the small bump. Itâs not fair. Itâs biological warfare. You know exactly what seeing you like that does to him.
He unmutes. âActually, I need to step away for a moment. Personal emergency. Give me ten minutes?â
His colleagues agreeâthey know heâs been working from home more latelyâand he kills his camera and mic before youâve even crossed the room.
âTen minutes,â he warns as you climb into his lap. âThatâs all we have.â
âThen you better make it count,â you challenge, already undoing his belt.
He does.
âWe need to tell people,â Seungcheol says over lunch. Youâre both in the kitchen, youâre eating pickles and bacon cream cheese spreadâa combination that horrifies him but apparently makes perfect sense to your pregnant brainâand heâs trying not to watch in fascinated disgust.
âI know,â you agree around a mouthful of your horrible creation. âWe said weâd wait until after the first trimester, and weâre atâwhat? Fifteen weeks now?â
âSixteen tomorrow,â he corrects. Heâs been tracking it religiously, has an app on his phone that tells him how big the baby is each week. Currently, the size of an avocado.
âSixteen weeks,â you repeat. âAnd Iâm starting to show. Like, actually show. I canât hide it in loose clothes forever.â
âYou look beautiful,â he says immediately.
âI look pregnant.â
âBeautiful and pregnant.â He comes around the island to wrap his arms around you from behind, his hands spanning your small bump. âBest combination ever.â
You lean back into him. âYour mom is going to cry.â
âMy mom is going to plan the entire babyâs life before theyâre even born,â he corrects. âYour mom is going to cry.â
âBoth our moms are going to lose their minds,â you decide. âAnd then theyâre going to become best friends over baby shopping.â
âJeonghan is going to make fun of me.â
âHannieâs going to be the uncle who teaches our kid bad habits.â
Seungcheol groans. âI hadnât thought of that. Maybe we donât tell anyone. Just let them figure it out when you go into labor.â
âCheol.â
âFine.â He kisses your temple. âThis weekend? Weâll have both families over. Tell them together?â
âTogether,â you agree. Then, after a pause, âAre you scared?â
âTerrified,â he admits. âBut also, this is real now. Weâre really doing this. In four and a half months, weâre going to have a baby. Our baby and I want to share that with people. Want everyone to know how happy I am.â
You turn in his arms, looking up at him. âEven though I keep attacking you at inappropriate times?â
âEspecially because you keep attacking me at inappropriate times.â He grins. âThough maybe we should warn the doctor at your next appointment. Make sure this isâŠyou know. Normal.â
âI already asked,â you admit, blushing. âLast appointment while you were filling out paperwork. She said itâs completely normal and actually healthy.â
âHealthy,â he repeats, smirking. âSo really, weâre just being responsible parents-to-be.â
âExactly, very responsible.â
âSpeaking of responsibleââ his hands slide down to cup your ass, ââI think I have another meeting in an hour. Which means we have timeââ
âOn the counter?â you ask hopefully.
âWherever you want,â he promises, already lifting you.
The pickles and cream cheese are forgotten as he makes good on his promise and laterâmuch laterâwhen heâs finally back at his computer for his afternoon meetings, you curl up on the couch in his office with a blanket and one of your pregnancy books.
This has become your routine over the past two months. Him working, you nearby and periodic breaks for the insatiable need thatâs apparently a hallmark of your second trimester. Itâs chaotic and wonderful and occasionally makes him miss important conference calls but he wouldnât change a thing.
This is his life now. His pregnant wife who canât keep her hands off him. His baby growing bigger every day. His future taking shape in ways he couldnât have imagined a year ago. All because of one drunk conversation about worms and ovulation and wanting his babies.
Best conversation ever. Even if it did result in him having to work from home regularly because his wife has turned into an insatiable pregnant goddess. He glances over at you, at the small bump visible even under the blanket and feels that now-familiar surge of overwhelming love.
Four and a half months until they meet their baby but first, telling their families this weekend and surviving whatever chaos that brings.
Summary: Jungkook has new piercing,one that heâs very excited to put to use except that he may have forgotten to think about the timeframe for the healing process before he got it done. Now itâs his birthday and he canât participate in his favorite pastime but that doesnât mean that you canât have your funâŠfor now because where anne hathawill, anne hathaway and Jeon Jungkook will find a way to put his mouth on you,piercing pain be damned.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, JKâs labret piercing, oral (f&m.rec),handjob,tit play?, oc! got her titties pierced while they were apart and didnât tell him, jk is a simp and a munch and will die on the hill of it being his favorite pastime. jk calls her noona but itâs mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but itâs not explicitly mentioned,light mentions of bunnies and mating, kinda domesticated, lots of playful teasing/silliness and banter/dialogue because I like it. As always, I might be missing some stuff.
W.C: 8.4k
You hadnât seen Jungkook since you came back from the U.S. Your schedule had pulled you into sessions with your boss and longtime friend Christian and even when you got back to Korea you hadnât been able to see him but you were determined to.It was his birthday in a few minutes and you refused to let your schedule keep you from him.
When you entered the house, it was quiet except for the soft hum of a lofi sound filtering through from one of the upper floors. You take the elevator up to where you assume he is, his head popping up as he hears the ding.
Before you can even open your mouth or step fully into view you catch his eyes and the subtle look he gives to his iPad in front of him before he casually pulls out his phone prompting you to take yours out as well.
Munch đ°
On live, theyâll see you if you step in further
He texts referring to the mirrored reflection behind and to the side.
Simp đș
đ„ș fine I guess birthday kisses and wishes can wait until after.
Came straight from the studio so Iâm gonna go shower đ
You send the text and look up at him only for a glint of what looks like a new piercing to hit your eyes. You point to the spot on your face and the little shit has the audacity to smirk at you.
No fucking way did he get a labret piercing and didnât tell you.You mouth a silent oh my god at him, your hand still hovering near your own chin as you give him the most incredulous look. Jungkookâs smirk deepens, teeth sinking into his lip just enough to make you want to strangle him or kiss him senseless. Probably both.
His eyes flick back to his iPad, voice light and sweet for the fans as if he hadnât just sucker-punched you with a brand-new piece of metal through his face. âYeah, Iâve been working on some demosâŠjust messing around with sounds lately since I got back.â
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts, typing furiously on your phone.
Simp đș
So you just werenât gonna tell me? Like at all??
His phone buzzes on the couch beside him, and without missing a beat in his live, he glances at the screen. A low chuckle slips out before he reaches for it.
Munch đ°
Wanted to surprise you. Guess it worked đ
Your jaw drops. The audacity. The absolute nerve. You type back instantly, thumbs flying.
Simp đș
Surprise?? Jungkook, itâs your BIRTHDAY not mine. Why am I the one getting attacked??
He reads it, lips twitching, and then looks upâright at youâbefore covering it with a stretch, hiding his grin behind his arm. To anyone watching, he just looks like heâs adjusting in his seat but you know, oh, you know. When you turn to leave, determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching you melt, your phone buzzes again.
Munch đ°
Donât shower too fast. I want my present after đ
You stop in your tracks at the doorway, whipping your head back to glare at him. His eyes are still glued to his screen, pretending to scroll, but the smirk tugging at his mouth is unmistakable. You send one last text before disappearing down the hall.
Simp đș
Careful, birthday boy. You might not survive it.
You turn his live on while youâre in the shower, amused by the fact that almost 11million people are up watching your boyfriend at this hour. Your mind returns to his piercing that seems very fresh, it hadnât been there when you watched his last live not even two days ago so it was definitely fresh.
You chuckle wondering if your boyfriend had even realized the hell he had just unintentionally put himself in. You had your fair share of piercings so you knew for a fact that that specific one despite not having it would take at least two months to heal which subsequently meant Jungkookâs munch tendencies would be limited.
By the time you finish your shower and pad back into the living room, oversized shirt clinging to your shoulders, Jungkookâs still on live and from what you see on your phone screen heâs moved to the bar/movie room and you werenât in the mood to go down there. There wouldnât be anywhere for you to remain out of frame and you like the quiet world your relationship exists in at the moment. You pad back to his bedroom and get comfortable in his bed and switch to Coupang eats when he starts grumbling about being hungry.
He couldnât have anything crunchy or spicy so you settle for something that wonât irritate the piercing or his gum when you hear him mention cleaning up and it not long after that that he ends the live. It takes a few more minutes before you hear him coming down the hall humming to himself until he spots you all soft and comfortable in his bed and his tshirt.
The moment Jungkook sees you sprawled across his bed in his shirt, curls fanned out on his pillow, he stops dead in the doorway. He leans against the frame, arms folded, piercing catching the low light of his bedroom as he smirks. âYou really out here making yourself at home, huh?â
You donât even look up from your phone, scrolling through Coupang Eats. âItâs not my fault your bedâs more comfortable than mine. Donât act brand new.â
He chuckles, low and warm, padding closer until heâs towering over the bed. âMy girl, stealing my shirts, hijacking my bedâŠâ He clicks his tongue, feigning disapproval. âWhatâs mine is really yours, huh?â
You finally glance up at him, eyes narrowing on the glint in his lip. âDonât try to distract me. You got a labret piercing and didnât tell me?â
Jungkook grins, biting his lip to better show the jewelry. âSurprise.â
âSurprise, my ass,â you mutter, setting your phone aside. âDo you even realize what youâve done?â
He tilts his head, pretending to be confused. âGot hotter overnight?â
âYou basically just put yourself on a munch ban for two months.â
The smirk slips right off his face. âWait. What?â
You fold your arms, savoring the moment. âHealing time, birthday boy. You canât have anything pulling or irritating the area. Which means no spicy food, no rough kissing, and definitely noââ you wave your hand vaguely toward your lap, ââmunching.â
His jaw drops, scandalized. âNoona, youâre lying.â
You give him a pitying little shrug. âGoogle it if you donât believe me.â
He immediately grabs his phone from his pocket, typing furiously. A beat later, his shoulders slump. âTwo to three months?!â He looks back at you, betrayed. âBaby, thatâs my thing!â
You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. âYou really didnât think this through at all, did you?â
He groans, flopping dramatically onto the bed beside you, face buried in your stomach. His voice comes out muffled. âWorst. Birthday. Ever.â
You card your fingers through his hair, still grinning. âYouâll live. Besides, Iâm sure we can find other ways to celebrate.â
He peeks up at you with wide, puppy eyes, his new piercing glinting under the lamp. ââŠLike what?â
You lean down, brushing your lips over his; gentle, careful. âGuess youâll just have to survive long enough to find out.â
He groans again, rolling onto his back like the worldâs most dramatic man. âI shouldâve gotten another tattoo instead.â
You snort, settling into his side. âYou probably wouldâve run out of skin eventually anyway.â
âNot before I run out of ideas,â he mutters, already pulling you into his chest, sulking but clingy and despite his whining, you can feel his smile pressing into your hair.
âJust because you canât munch doesnât mean I canât have my fun.â You tease him.
You feel him freeze next to you and mumble something you donât quite catch.
âWhat was that?â
His head dips lower, hair falling into his face as if it might hide him from you. His voice is quieter this time, rougher, like heâs embarrassed to even say it again.
âI saidâŠitâs torture.â
You blink, caught between laughing and shoving him off the bed. âTorture?â
His eyes flick up at you, wide and unguarded, before narrowing with the faintest pout. âYeah. Youâre over here looking like thatââ his hand waves vaguely at your oversized shirt, your damp hair, your bare legs tucked under the blanketâ âand I canât do anything. Not properly.â
The grin creeps across your face before you can stop it. âOh, so you admit it. Munch privileges revoked.â
âYah,â he groans, throwing himself back dramatically against the pillows, one arm slung over his eyes. âThis is the worst birthday ever.â
You snort, climbing over him until youâre straddling his hips, the blanket pooling around you both. His arm slips from his face, his gaze locking onto you instantly, dark and sharp despite the playful pout still tugging at his mouth.
âDonât worry, birthday boy,â you murmur, leaning close enough for your breath to brush his lips, âIâll make sure you forget all about the torture part.â
His throat bobs as he swallows, fingers already finding your hips like he canât help himself. âYou better,â he whispers, and this time youâre the one smirking.
His grip on your hips tightens just enough to let you feel the heat of it, but not enough to hold you down. Youâre still in chargeâhe lets you be, especially on nights like this.
âI canât believe 11 million people saw this before me.â you tease, brushing your nose against his.âShouldnât I have girlfriend privileges?â
His laugh is low, breathy, more nerves than humor. âBabyâŠâ His voice dips into that dangerous whine you know too well. âDonât tease me.â
âOh, but itâs your birthday,â you murmur, rocking your hips just slightly against him, enough to make his jaw clench. âIsnât that what Iâm supposed to do?â
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a plea, his head tipping back against the pillows. âGod, youâre evil.â
âEvil?â you echo, feigning innocence as you let your lips trail along his throat, slow and deliberate, stopping just below his ear. âI thought you liked me like this?â
His fingers flex against your skin like heâs trying so hard not to flip the whole script on you. âMore than I care to admit,â he admits, voice breaking just a little. âDoesnât mean youâre not evil.
You laugh softly, biting his earlobe just enough to make him jerk. âBest of both worlds, huh?â
âBest,â he says without hesitation, breathless and wrecked already; and you havenât even given him his gift yet. His eyes snap back to yours, dark and glassy, like heâs trying to memorize the way you look right nowâsmug, dangerous, so completely in control of him itâs unfair. His chest rises fast under you, every exhale brushing warm against your lips when you lean close again.
âYou really want your gift?â you ask, voice a teasing whisper, even though you already know the answer.
âYes.â Itâs desperate, immediate, and so unlike his usual composure that it makes your smirk widen.
âThen be patient,â you murmur, dragging your nails lightly down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the shiver that ripples through him. âGood boys wait.â
He groans, throwing his head back, but his hips twitch up against yours anyway betraying him.
âNot fair,â he mutters, half whine, half growl.
You tilt your head, lips brushing just barely over his jawline. âSince when has fair ever been part of the deal?â
His hands finally tighten properly on your hips, like heâs two seconds from losing the restraint heâs been clinging to. His voice drops, ragged and low.
âLove, if this is how youâre giving me my birthday present, I donât think Iâm gonna survive it.â
The wicked grin that spreads across your face tells him heâs right and he wouldnât want it any other way. Just to tease him a bit more you get off of him and make your way over to your bag and pull out the jewelry box that had been hidden inside before making your way back to him.
Jungkook didnât wear much jewelry regularly apart from his piercings but heâd worn that necklace youâd gotten him three birthdays ago until it got stolen or lost, you canât really remember but you do remember him being all pouty about it so you had gotten him an upgrade this year with a bracelet to match.
He whines when you take too long to come back to him. You pause just a second longer than necessary, enjoying the way his eyes follow every move you make, his pout growing more dramatic the closer you get to the bed.
âPatience, Jungkookie,â you hum, dangling the small box just out of his reach as you climb back onto the mattress.
He shifts, trying to grab for it, and you pull it away with a sly grin. âNuh-uh. Gifts are for good boys.â
His cheeks flush, and you can see the way he clenches his jaw, equal parts turned on and frustrated. âYouâre cruel,â he mutters, voice pitched low but threaded with a whine.
âYouâll live,â you tease, finally flicking open the box to reveal the sleek necklace and bracelet gleaming against the velvet. His breath actually catches, the irritation melting instantly into wide-eyed surprise.
âBabyâŠâ His voice cracks, soft and reverent now as he looks up at you instead of the jewelry. âYou didnât have toââ
âI wanted to,â you interrupt, settling between his legs again, holding the bracelet out toward him. âNow, do I get to put it on you or are you still being bratty?â
That earns you a small laugh, sheepish and warm, and he finally holds out his wrist, eyes shining. And just as you lean in to clasp it, he grumbles under his breath, barely audibleâ
âStill evil though.â
You glance up at him through your lashes, lips twitching. âWhat was that?â
âNothing,â he says too quickly, biting the inside of his cheek like he can swallow the words back down but the faint pink staining his ears gives him away.
âOh, no, no,â you murmur, fastening the bracelet snugly around his wrist. âI heard you.â You hold his hand up, admiring how the metal gleams against his skin. âEvil and thoughtful. You really do have the best of both worlds.â
He ducks his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. His thumb brushes lightly over the chain, and you catch the way his chest tightens like heâs fighting not to get emotional.
âLooks good on you,â you say softly, your teasing tone mellowing just for a moment. âBetter than I even pictured.â
His gaze lifts, warm and intent, all traces of his earlier pout fading into something that makes your stomach flip. âYou know Iâm never taking this off, right?â
You grin, leaning in close until your nose brushes his. âGood. That was the point.â
And just when heâs about to kiss youâwhen you can feel the heat rolling off him in wavesâyou pull back with a mischievous smirk. âNow, about that necklaceâŠâ
His groan is instant and theatrical, head falling back against the pillows. âNoona, youâre actually trying to kill me.â
âNot kill,â you correct, fingers toying with the chain. âJustâŠruin a little.â
You slip the chain from the box, holding it just above his collarbones, watching the way his throat bobs as he swallows. âAnd no mouth kissing, remember?â you remind him sweetly, tone light but edged with mischief.
He groans, covering his face with one hand like he regrets ever agreeing to your rule for the night. âYouâre killing me.â
You laugh softly, brushing his hair back as you clasp the necklace behind his neck, letting your fingers linger against his skin. âRelax, Kookie. I never said anything about other kinds of kissing.â
That makes him peek at you through his fingers, eyes going dark with both suspicion and anticipation. âYouâre dangerous.â
âYou love it,â you say with a grin, leaning down just enough to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the hollow of his throat. âWeâve established this already.â
His breath hitches so sharply you feel it against your lips, his hand dropping from his face to clutch at your waist like he needs something to anchor him. The little pulse beneath your mouth stutters, and the sound he makesâhalf groan, half pleaâshoots straight through you.
âFuck, babyâŠâ His voice is rough now, shaky, and it only eggs you on.
You drag your lips lazily across his skin, leaving featherlight kisses up the column of his throat, pausing at the spot just under his jaw where you know heâs sensitive. You donât bite, donât markâjust let your mouth linger, warm and slow, until heâs trembling under you.
When you finally pull back to look at him, his pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling like heâs been running. The new necklace glints at his collarbone, framed perfectly by the trail of your affection.
âSee?â you whisper, smirking as you smooth your thumb over his jaw. âRules can be fun if you let me play with them a little.â
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like heâs gathering himself, then opens them againâglassier now, hungrier. âYouâre not gonna let me survive the night, are you?â
You laugh, leaning in to brush your lips just shy of his ear. âDependsâŠare you gonna be a good boy for me?â
âWhen arenât I?â
You raise an eyebrow at him before telling him to get comfortable while you shuffle down between his legs.
His smirk lingers as he leans back against the pillows, arms spread out like heâs trying to play it cool but the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast gives him away. His eyes track you the whole time, sharp and dark, but thereâs a flicker of nervous excitement in them that makes your lips twitch.
âYou talk big, Kookie,â you murmur, settling between his thighs, hands gliding up the insides just to watch him shiver. âGuess Iâll see if you can back it up.â
He swallows hard, Adamâs apple bobbing, and tips his head back against the headboard. âYouâre gonna kill me tonight,â he says, but thereâs a tremor in his voice that betrays just how much heâs looking forward to it.
Your eyebrow arches again, playful. âThat a complaint?â
His gaze snaps back to you, intense now, no hesitation. âNever.â
Your palms smooth along his thighs, deliberate and slow, until your nails dig just enough to make his muscles twitch under your touch. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, head falling back, throat bared for you like he knows exactly what game youâre playing.
âComfortable?â you ask, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
He huffs out a laugh that dissolves into a groan when you press a kiss just above his waistband. âYou know Iâm not,â he rasps, hips jerking despite himself.
âGood,â you murmur against his skin, hands curling around his thighs to hold him steady as your mouth trails lower, teasing, never giving him enough. His fingers twitch against the sheets, then ball into fists when you deliberately skip over where he wants you most.
âPlease,â he finally breathes out, broken and needy, the word torn from him like it costs him everything to say it.
You lift your head just enough to meet his eyes, wide and dark and desperate. A wicked smile curves your lips as you ask, âPlease what, birthday boy?â
The way his jaw works, like heâs fighting pride and surrender at the same time, has your pulse racing.
Jungkook couldnât decide if it was better or worse that you told him to âget comfortable.â Because he wasnât. At all. His back sank into the pillows, hands flexing uselessly at his sides as you slid down between his legs, and every muscle in his body felt strung too tight.
His chest rose and fell too fast. The new chain sat cool against his collarbones, a sharp contrast to the heat crawling down his skin where your mouth had just been. He swore he could feel the press of your lips there even now, taunting him, making him want more.
When your fingers brushed along the waistband of his sweats, his hips jumped before he could stop them. âNoonaâŠâ he groaned, hating how desperate it sounded, hating how badly he wanted to beg when heâd promised himself he wouldnât.
The truth was, you had him undone already. No kissing on the mouth, that stupid rule was unraveling him worse than anything else, because it meant he couldnât ground himself in you. He had to take everything you gave, every kiss lower than his lips, every brush of your hand, and it left him aching, twitching under your control.
And then you tugged his sweats down just enough, and Jungkook swore his vision blurred. His cock slapped up against his stomach, heavy, flushed, and so hard it hurt.
âFuck,â he whispered, dragging a hand over his face. He could feel his own pulse in it, leaking already, shameless. And you hadnât even touched him yet.
When you finally leaned down, your breath ghosting over the tip, his whole body jerked. âBaby, pleaseââ The plea broke out before he could choke it back, raw and unguarded. His fingers fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, every nerve screaming for relief.
And when your lips wrapped around himâslow, deliberate, like you had all the time in the worldâJungkookâs head fell back against the pillows with a strangled cry.
God, he thought, sheâs really going to kill me tonight.
The first drag of your mouth down his cock nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Heat, wet, suctionâheâd had it a thousand times, but never like this, never when he wasnât allowed to kiss you back, wasnât allowed to ground himself in your mouth in the way he craved most.
âF-fuck,â he stuttered, hips twitching up before he forced them down again, digging his heels into the mattress so he wouldnât lose it too fast. He needed to last. He needed you to take your time, even if it killed him.
Your tongue curled around the head, flicking at the slit, lapping up the precum spilling freely now. Every touch made his cock throb violently, his stomach tightening like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter. When you slid down farther, hollowing your cheeks, he groaned so loud he swore his neighbors mustâve heard.
His hand shot down, instinctive, tangling in your hair but he didnât push. He couldnât. He wasnât sure if it was because he respected your pace or because he was terrified heâd shove too hard, spill down your throat too fast, and ruin it before you decided he deserved to come.
âShit,baby,â he rasped, head lolling back against the pillow. His chest heaved, sweat beading at his temples. You were taking him so deep, his tip brushing the back of your throat, and the gag of it made his cock twitch violently. He was seconds from losing it. âI-I canâtââ
But then you pulled back with a slick pop, smirking up at him with his cock glistening, spit shining along your chin.
He thought he might actually cry.
âYouâreâŠyouâre evil,â he panted, voice breaking. His thighs were trembling, his cock leaking all over his abs now, untouched for the moment and aching so bad it almost hurt.
When your hand wrapped around the base and started stroking slow, twisting, pumping him while your mouth sank back down over the headâJungkookâs vision went white at the edges. His toes curled, his abs clenched, his whole body bowed up off the bed.
âNoona, please,â he begged shamelessly now, any last shred of control ripped away. âPlease, let meâfuckkkk, let me come. Please.â
The steady twist of your wrist paired with the wet slide of your mouth was too much,his body was wound so tight it felt like every nerve ending was wired to your tongue. Jungkookâs moans had gone ragged, each one higher, sharper, closer to a cry. His thighs shook uncontrollably, muscles straining as if he could hold back the inevitable, but his body betrayed him.
âF-fuck! oh my god, noonaââ His head thrashed against the pillow, black hair sticking to his forehead, chest slick with sweat. His cock throbbed violently in your hand, every vein rigid, his balls drawn tight. He could feel it coming, deep in his spine, rushing forward like a wave too powerful to fight.
âGonnaâfuck, Iâm gonna comeâŠplease,â he gasped, hips jerking despite himself, driving deeper into your throat. The sight of you taking it, the sound of you gagging just slightly and humming around him, it broke him.
With a hoarse, choked cry, he came. Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled down your throat, his entire body arching up as though he could disappear inside you. His stomach clenched, muscles spasming with every pulse of release, cock twitching helplessly as you swallowed around him.
It went on and onâlonger than he thought he could even lastâuntil he collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving, body boneless. His hand was still tangled in your hair, trembling as he stroked weakly through it, pulling you gently off him when the oversensitivity made him flinch.
âFuck,â he whispered, voice wrecked, almost broken. His throat was raw from moaning, from begging. He looked down at you with glassy eyes, lips parted, completely undone.
And when you licked your lips, his cum shining on them, then leaned up to kiss his jawâcarefully avoiding his mouth, still obeying the ruleâhe thought he might die on the spot.
âYouâreâŠinsane,â he breathed, smiling weakly, dazed. âAnd perfect. God, babyâŠI donât even have words.â
âI do and theyâre youâre not done yet.â You whisper in his ear.
His whole body stiffens at your words, the heat of your breath against his ear sending another shiver racing down his spine. Heâs still trembling from the orgasm, muscles weak, but the second your whisper lands, his cock twitches against his stomach, already starting to stir back to life.
Jungkook turns his head, eyes blown wide and dark, disbelieving and needy all at once. âNoonaâŠâ His voice cracks, half-plea, half-worship, like heâs not sure if heâs begging you to stop or to ruin him even more.
You nip at the shell of his ear, slow and deliberate. âBirthday boy doesnât get to tap out after one.â
His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, chest heaving like he canât get enough air. âYouâreâfuck, youâre serious?â
You smile against his skin, your hand sliding down his stomach, deliberately brushing the base of his cock thatâs already starting to harden again. His hips jerk helplessly.
âDead serious,â you murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. âAnd this timeâŠno hands on me. You just lie there and take it.â
The broken sound that leaves him is pure desperation, his head falling back into the pillows. âYouâre gonna kill me,â he gasps, though the way his body arches into your touch betrays how badly he wants it.
You donât move right away after whispering in his ear. Instead, you let the words hang there, your breath hot against his skin. His chest rises and falls rapidly, still trying to calm from the first round, and you relish the way heâs already trembling under you.
âNot done yet,â you murmur again, dragging your mouth along the line of his jaw, careful to keep away from his lips. Your tongue flicks against his earlobe before you bite down gently. He shivers.
âBabyâŠâ Itâs half a whine, half a plea. His hands twitch at your sides like he wants to grab, wants to pull you down, but he doesnâtânot after last timeânot when he knows better now.
You smirk and slide lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his chest, pausing to suck lightly on one nipple until he groans, then moving to the other, fingers dancing across the taut muscles of his stomach. Every brush of your mouth is too light to satisfy him, and the way his abs clench beneath you makes you slow down even more.
When you finally settle between his thighs, heâs already half-hard again, sensitive and aching. You drag your nails gently up the inside of his leg, stopping just shy of where he wants you. His hips buck involuntarily, but you press his thighs down with your palms, keeping him pinned.
âPatience, Jungkookie,â you hum, echoing your earlier tease.
He curses under his breath, head thrown back against the pillow, one arm covering his eyes like he canât stand to watch you torture him this way.
You wrap one hand loosely around him, not moving yet, just holding, letting him throb against your palm. Then you lean down, tongue darting out to tease the underside of his length, a single stripe from base to tip. He gasps, thighs trembling, but when you pull back again without taking more, he growls in frustration.
âCruel,â he mutters, echoing himself from earlier, voice ragged.
âYouâll live,â you purr, before taking him slowly into your mouth.
The sound he makes is wrecked, desperate. His fingers clutch at the sheets as you sink down inch by inch, stopping to hollow your cheeks, to swirl your tongue around the tip, to pull back almost entirely before sliding down again. You donât give him rhythmâjust waves of sensation, unpredictable, dragging him higher only to ease off and start again.
By the time you let him hit the back of your throat, heâs shaking, sweat dampening his hair, moaning without shame. âFuckâŠbaby, pleaseââ
You pull off with a wet pop, stroking him lazily while you lick your lips, eyes locked on his. âWhatâs that? Please what?â
His voice cracks when he answers. âPlease let meâŠlet me come.â
You tilt your head, pretending to think. âHmm. Not yet.â
He actually whimpers, biting down on his fist. You laugh softly, leaning forward to kiss just above his navel before swallowing him down again, faster this time, deeper, until his thighs are trembling and his hand flies to your hair before jerking back like he remembers heâs not allowed.
Only when heâs right on the edge again, toes curling, voice breaking around your name, do you finally let him go, your hand working him in fast, tight strokes while you keep your mouth on him, sucking him through until he unravels hard, spilling with a broken cry.
You donât pull away until heâs twitching, oversensitive and whining, his hips trying weakly to get away from your mouth. When you finally let up, you kiss his thigh sweetly, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.
âYou lasted,â you tease, voice low. âGood boy.â
His chest is heaving, face flushed, eyes dazed and shining as he stares at you like youâve just undone him completely. âYouâre evil,â he pants, but the way his lips curl into a lazy grin gives him away.
âAnd you,â you murmur, climbing back up his body to settle against him, âlove it.â
He doesnât give you a chance to bask in the aftermath of wrecking him. The second you settle against his chest, smug and satisfied, Jungkook rolls, flipping your positions so youâre on your back beneath him, breath catching at the sudden shift.
âThink youâre the only one who can drag things out?â he smirks, voice still hoarse but thick with determination. His mouth dips to your throat before you can answer, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin there. He lingers at your collarbone, sucking just enough to leave you tingling, before dragging his lips lower.
You know his piercing means he has to be careful, that he canât risk irritation with too much direct mouth-to-mouth, but Jungkook makes up for it by kissing everywhere elseâyour jaw, your throat, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts. Each press of his lips is careful but searing, like heâs staking a claim on every inch of skin.
When his hands slip under your shirt and push it up, his mouth follows the reveal, inch by inch, until the fabric bunches beneath your arms. Then he freezes.
The soft intake of breath tells you heâs just noticedâthe glint of metal where your nipples are pierced, barbells catching the low light. His eyes darken instantly, pupils blown wide as he stares like heâs never wanted anything more.
âYou didnât tell me about these,â he murmurs, voice low and reverent. His thumb brushes across one barbell, sending a sharp jolt of sensation through you. You shiver, biting back a moan.
âSurprise,â you whisper, teasing, but your voice is already shaky.
His grin is wicked. âSurprise indeed and given that they look all nice and healed, you been hiding them for awhile.â
Before you can retort, his mouth is on youâhot, wet, careful but relentless. He doesnât suck hard at first, mindful of the piercings, but he drags his tongue slowly around one nipple, deliberately catching the barbell just enough to make you gasp. Then he does the same to the other, alternating back and forth until youâre writhing under him, hands clutching his hair.
Every graze of his teeth, every flick of his tongue around the metal, sends sparks through youâsharper, more intense than you expected, amplified by the piercings youâd almost forgotten to warn him about.
âFuck, Jungkookââ
âThatâs it,â he murmurs against your skin, voice muffled but smug. âLet me hear it.â
And when he finally closes his lips around one nipple and sucks properly, the pressure tugging against the piercing, your back arches off the bed, a broken cry spilling out before you can stop it. He hums in approval, the vibration making it worseâbetterâuntil youâre clawing at his shoulders, begging without words.
When he pulls back, lips slick and eyes blazing, he looks like he could devour you whole. âYouâre so fucking sexy,â he says simply, before ducking back down to claim the other breast with equal intensity, determined to make you fall apart the way you just did to him.
He drags his hand down your stomach, slow enough to make you whimper, before slipping into your waistband. He doesnât rushâfingers teasing along the edges, grazing you just enough to make your hips lift off the bed in frustration.
âYou want it?â he asks, hovering cruelly close.
âYes. fuck, yes, please,â you pant.
Thatâs all he needs. His fingers slide through your wetness, parting you, circling your clit with maddening precision. His mouth returns to your chest, tongue flicking and teeth grazing carefully around the metal as his hand works between your thighs. The double assault is devastating,every nerve lit, every drag of his fingers sending you higher.
He slips one finger inside, then two, curling them just right, his palm grinding against your clit in steady rhythm. Your cries fill the room, back arching, legs trembling.
âLook at you,â he murmurs against your skin, relentless. âSo fucking gorgeous when you break for me.â
Youâre gone, chasing the edge with every stroke, every graze of his teeth and tongue against your piercings. When he finally presses harder, faster, curling his fingers deep inside, your orgasm slams into youâsharp, consuming, leaving you clawing at him and sobbing his name.
But Jungkook doesnât stop. He draws it out, fingers still working, pace unyielding even as you shudder and beg for mercy. âNot done yet,â he whispers, voice rough and intent. âIâm gonna take you againâŠand againâŠuntil you canât think of anything but me.â
His fingers finally slow, sliding out of you with a wet sound that makes your cheeks burn, but he doesnât give you time to recover. He licks them cleanâslow, deliberate, like heâs savoring youâbefore hooking his hands under your thighs and dragging you down the bed until your hips are flush with his.
âRound two,â he says, voice low and rough, like gravel and honey all at once. âAnd this time I set the pace.â
You barely manage a nod before heâs tugging your shorts down and off, tossing them aside. He pushes your legs open, wide enough that the stretch burns, then settles between them with his cock hard and heavy against your slick entrance. He doesnât thrust in right awayâhe grinds slow, deliberate, smearing himself through your folds, letting the head of his cock nudge against your clit until youâre trembling.
âJungkookâplease,â you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
He smirks, leaning down to kiss you deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he finally pushes forward. The stretch steals your breath, hot and overwhelming, and you feel every inch as he sinks into you with a groan that vibrates in your chest.
âFuck,â he growls against your lips. âTight,so fucking tight even after all the times Iâve been here.â
He gives you a second to adjust, chest pressed to yours brushing your nipple as he shifts. Then he pulls back slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in hard enough to make the headboard crack against the wall. You cry out, body arching into him, and he sets a rhythmâslow, punishing thrusts that drag out every nerve-ending scream of pleasure.
âYou think you can handle me dragging it out?â His words are broken by his own groans, hips snapping into you harder. âYouâre gonna take every second of this, baby. Every. Fucking. Inch.â
He braces one hand beside your head, the other sliding down to hook under your knee and press it up, opening you even wider. The new angle makes you choke on a moan as he hits deeper, relentless, each thrust grazing that spot that makes your vision blur.
Your nails rake down his back, your body caught between begging for mercy and begging for more. Jungkook doesnât let upâhis mouth is everywhere,sucking your neck, dragging his tongue across your piercings again, biting your shoulder when you clench too hard around him.
âLook at you,â he pants, eyes locked on yours as sweat drips down his temple. âAlready falling apart, and weâre not even close to done.â
The pressure builds fast, unbearable, your body tightening around him. Youâre babbling his name, incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as he pistons into you harder, faster, his grunts turning ragged.
And when you finally break, the orgasm rips through you violent and sharp, your body convulsing beneath him. Jungkook doesnât stopâhe fucks you through it, dragging out every spasm, every desperate cry, until youâre shaking, clawing at him like youâll fall apart without him holding you together.
Only then does he finally let himself go, thrusting deep one last time as he groans your name, his release spilling hot inside you. He stays there, buried deep, chest heaving against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking together as if he canât bear to pull away.
When he finally lifts his head, his grin is wicked, satisfied. âRound two,â he says, voice wrecked. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, still lingering. âAnd weâre still not done.â
You donât get to say or do anything before his phone rings. He groans loudly before reaching over to the bedside table to grab it before he answers. Your fingers rake through his hair while he talks before he hangs up and looks at you.
âYou ordered food?â
âOh, yeah. Forgot about that.â You laugh lightly.âYou kept grumbling about being hungry while you were live and then you came in here and distracted me.â
Jungkook tosses his phone back on the nightstand with a groan, then drops his forehead against your chest. âYouâre lucky Iâm starving or Iâd keep you pinned here until morning.â
You laugh, threading your fingers through his damp hair. âPlease, youâd pass out before I did.â
He lifts his head just enough to give you that incredulous look, like youâve just challenged him to the most important competition of his life. âYou wanna test that theory later?â
The ring of the doorbell cuts through the room, sharp and intrusive. Jungkook groans like itâs a personal attack, reluctantly pulling out of you and grabbing a pair of sweats from the floor.
âDonât move,â he mutters, pointing at you like youâre a flight risk, though his grin ruins the stern act.
You tug the blanket over yourself, giggling as you watch him pad barefoot out the bedroom door, hair damp with sweat, skin still flushed. The delivery guy doesnât even blinkâjust hands him the bags and bows before disappearing down the hall. Jungkook shuts the door with his hip, muttering, âSaved by food. Youâre lucky.â
He sets everything on the coffee table, then comes back to drag you out of bed despite your protests. âCome on. Movie. Food. ThenâŠâ His smirk is wicked, but his hands are gentle as he wraps you in his tshirt before steering you out of the bedroom to the couch where he was live just an hour ago.
The two of you settle in, legs tangled together, cartons of food spread out in front of you. He insists on feeding you the first bite, holding the chopsticks to your lips with that boyish grin that always makes your chest ache. You feed him back, and the banter is easyâcomplaints about how hungry you are, him teasing that you moaned louder for him than you ever would for food.
A movie plays in the background, neither of you paying it much attention except for the occasional comment. His arm rests around your shoulders, thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, and between bites he presses soft kisses against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Itâs quiet, warm, the kind of intimacy that doesnât demand anything but presence.
By the time the food is gone, your stomach is full but your heart feels fuller. Jungkook shifts down on the couch, head pillowed in your lap as he watches the screen with heavy-lidded eyes. His hand rests over your thigh, fingers twitching like he canât not touch you.
âDonât get too comfortable,â you tease, running your fingers through his damp hair.
His lips curl into a sleepy smile. âToo late. Youâre stuck with me like this.â And for a while, you are; just the two of you, the remnants of food on the table, the low hum of the movie filling the space.
Jungkookâs lashes flutter once, twice, before his breathing steadies, the weight of his head warm and heavy against your thigh. You pause, fingers tangled in his hair, and just watch him. The curve of his nose, the soft part of his mouth, the way his chest rises and falls. He looks younger like this, vulnerable in a way you donât often get to see. The world knows him as untouchable, magnetic, but here heâs just your boyâsweat-damp hair and a faint soy sauce stain on the corner of his lip.
You brush it away with your thumb, and he makes a little noise in his sleep, lips parting just slightly. Your heart squeezes at the sound. You think, not for the first time, that you could live in this moment forever; just him, heavy and warm, trusting you enough to let his guard down completely.
But then his hand twitches against your thigh, fingers flexing higher, until his thumb brushes the hem of the shirt he made you wear. His lashes lift, and when his eyes meet yours, theyâre no longer hazy with sleep. Theyâre sharp, dark, mischievous.
âWere you watching me sleep?â he murmurs, voice low and raspy, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âMaybe,â you admit, tugging lightly at his hair. âYou looked cute.â
He hums, a sound that sends a shiver straight through you. âCute, huh?â He shifts suddenly, rolling so heâs half on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. âGuess I should fix that.â
The movie continues to play, forgotten, as his mouth drags lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, down the neckline of his own shirt youâre drowning in. His grin is wicked against your skin. âRound three,â he whispers, already working his way lower.
Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, light and teasing. âYou really behave like a bunny, yâknow.â
Jungkook pauses just long enough to lift his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. His smirk deepens, slow and dangerous. âA bunny, huh?â He noses at your jaw, voice muffled and low. âCute on the outsideâŠbut youâve seen how rabbits really are.â
The way he says it makes your stomach flip, a promise disguised as a joke. His teeth graze your throat, playful but edging on hungry, and the warmth of his hands slides higher beneath the shirt youâre wearing, his shirt.
âJungkook,â your voice catches when his thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts, teasing at the piercings like he canât resist.
He hums like heâs heard exactly what he wanted, the sound reverberating through your chest. âYou shouldnât have said that, noona. Now Iâve got an excuse.â
The movie hums on in the background, forgotten. Your fingers curl in his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin just enough to sting. He chuckles against you, wicked satisfaction laced in the sound.
âYou started it,â he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone. âNow youâve gotta take responsibility.â
His hand drags slowly down your stomach, deliberate, until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt and pins your hips with his free hand, smirk lazy and sharp.
âYouâre mine for the rest of the night,â he says simply, voice hoarse but steady. âAnd Iâm not letting you sleep until Iâve proven it.â
âRound three,â he whispers against your lips, thrusts deep and deliberate, âand youâre still gonna beg me for more.â
you believe him.
Jungkookâs mouth is everywhere, slow but insistent, as if heâs determined to taste every inch of you under the dim flicker of the forgotten movie. His teeth graze the swell of your breast, his tongue circling your piercing just enough to make your toes curl. Youâre already slick again, the ache between your thighs building with every drag of his mouth, every careful press of his fingers.
âStill calling me a bunny?â he asks against your skin, voice low and dangerous. His hand slips lower, sliding between your legs, fingers finding you already wet. He groans softly, almost reverent. âFuckâŠlook at you. So ready. I donât even need to prep you, do I?â
You shake your head, biting your lip. âNoâŠjustâjust fuck me, Kook.â
Thatâs all the permission he needs. He hooks your thighs over his shoulders, dragging you down the couch until your hips are at the edge, legs spread wide. You gasp as he presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that never go all the way in.
âBeg for it,â he whispers, eyes locked on yours, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. âIf Iâm a bunny, then youâre my mate and mates beg.â
Your face burns, but the need outweighs your pride. âPlease,baby. Please fuck me.â
His answering groan is guttural, torn from deep in his chest. He pushes in slow, inch by inch, stretching you until youâre gasping, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. He doesnât stop until heâs buried to the hilt, hips flush with yours, his jaw clenched tight as he fights for control.
âGod,â he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. âSo fucking perfect. Every time.â
He starts to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot, deep enough that you swear you can feel him in your throat. Itâs not the punishing pace from before. This is different,intimate. He wants you to feel every inch, every stroke, every second of being filled by him.
Your nails rake down his back, your moans spilling free as he rolls his hips, grinding against your clit with every thrust. He kisses youâsoft, careful not to brush your mouth too much because of his piercing, but he makes up for it with kisses everywhere else. Your neck. Your jaw. The shell of your ear. Each one grounding you even as he fucks you higher and higher.
âLook at you,â he pants, voice breaking as your walls tighten around him. âTaking me so good. Fuck, youâre mine.â
âYours,â you gasp, arching into him, legs trembling where they rest on his shoulders. âAlways yours.â
Thatâs all it takes. His rhythm sharpens, hips snapping harder, faster, chasing both your release and his. The wet slap of skin fills the room, mixing with your cries and his groans, the movie long forgotten.
Your orgasm slams into you like a wave, stealing your breath as your whole body seizes around him. You cry out his name, vision blurring, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Jungkook fucks you through it, relentless, until heâs shaking above you, spilling hot and deep inside as he groans your name like a prayer.
For a long moment, neither of you move. He stays buried in you, chest pressed tight to yours, his sweat-slick skin sticking to you like he never wants to let go. His breathing evens out slowly, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh.
When he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin is soft, boyish, so different from the wrecked intensity of just a moment ago. âRound three,â he whispers, kissing your temple gently. âBut I thinkâŠâ He trails off with a chuckle. âIâve got at least one more in me.â
You laugh weakly, pushing at his chest. âYouâre insane.â
âMaybe,â he admits, settling against you again, his cock still heavy and warm inside you. âBut Iâm yours though so youâre stuck with me.â
And in that moment, with his heartbeat thudding against yours and the quiet hum of the TV filling the room, you wouldnât want it any other way.
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Summary: After returning from Japan, youâre greeted by Jungkook whoâs waiting for youâjust as promisedâbut safely in his car, away from prying eyes. exhaustion quickly turns to intimacy, with slow mornings and teasing, domestic moments that highlight your deep connection. Jungkookâs playful, insatiable nature keeps you both on edge, yet the warmth, care, and desire between you is undeniable. Between stolen kisses, breakfast, and flirty texts, your bond is messy, passionate, and unashamedly yours even as life and schedules threaten to pull you apart.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, oral (f.rec),mentions of road head, jk is a simp and a munch with no shame about it, jk calls her noona but itâs mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but itâs not explicitly mentioned, kinda domesticated, lots of silliness and banter through text dialogue. Thereâs some song lyrics in there, overall they just both two little tsundere simps đ€·đœââïž, As usual I might be missing something. This picks up where the first part left off but I think it can be read as a stand alone.
W.C: 13.5k not including the song lyrics I used. Would be less if I had just used a text app đ
Happy Kookie Day to my fellow Virgo!
AG1
Just as he said he would Jungkookâs waiting in his car when you land. Heâd wanted to be at the gate but you had managed to get him to stay in the car. You were pretty sure that even if he was covered from head to toe he would still get recognized and you wanted to enjoy your relationship before you got outed to the world.
The moment you step out of the arrivals gate and into the humid buzz of Incheonâs summer night, your phone lights up with a text:
Munch đ°
Black Benz, lane 3. Donât keep me waiting, noona đ
You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself as you adjust the strap of your carry-on and head toward the curb. There he is, exactly where he said heâd be parked in lane 3, engine running, windows tinted so dark no one can see a thing, but youâd recognize that car anywhere. You climb in fast after putting your luggage in the trunk and shut the door behind you with a quiet thunk. The moment youâre inside, your mask is off, his hat pushed back, and heâs grinning at you like youâre the sunrise itself.
âHey, stranger,â he murmurs, reaching across the console to twist a loose curl around his finger. âMiss me?â
You snort, tossing your bag into the back. âYou called me every night and fell asleep on FaceTime. Be serious.â
âDoesnât mean I didnât miss you,â he shrugs, leaning over to press a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. âMissed this. Missed you in my car, smelling like me.â
You roll your eyes again, but your heart flutters at the softness in his tone.
âMissed you too,â you say, and itâs quieter than you meant it to be.
He hums, eyes scanning your face like heâs making sure youâre really here, really okay. âYou tired?â
You nod. âExhausted.â
âHungry?â
You pause, considering. âI could eat.â
Jungkook grins. âGood, I stocked the fridge. Got your milk tea and that stupidly expensive snack mix you like.â
Your chest tightens. âYou remembered that?â
He shrugs, starting the car like itâs no big deal. âI remember everything.â
The ride is quiet at first, comfortable. His hand finds yours on the console halfway through, fingers lacing like itâs second nature, thumb tracing circles on your knuckles.
âYour place or mine?â he asks at a red light.
âYours,â you say automatically, head already lolling to the side as the exhaustion starts to drag you down. âYours is closer and has better pillows.â
He chuckles, squeezing your hand. âAnd you.â
By the time you pull into his garage, youâre dozing in the passenger seat. He doesnât wake you up, just sits there for a moment, watching you with that soft look he only ever wears when youâre too tired to catch it before he gets out of the car.
Then, as gentle as ever, he unbuckles you, lifts you into his arms, and carries you inside knowing youâd give him an earful about lifting you if you were awake. Thereâs no cameras, no flashing lights. Just you, and him, and the quiet little world youâve built in the shadows. And if he falls asleep with you still wrapped in his arms that night, your airport-scented hair in his face and a smile on his lips?
Thatâs between you, him, and the sheets he definitely wonât be changing anytime soon.
You wake the next morning to warm light filtering in through Jungkookâs blackout curtainsâhe never fully shuts them, claiming he likes the way the sun finds its way in anyway. But really, you suspect itâs because he likes seeing you in soft morning light, likes pretending the day can start slow, even when his schedule never does.
Youâre still tucked against him, your face pressed into the curve of his neck, your legs tangled together like theyâve always belonged there and his arm tightens around you the second you shift. âMmm. No running away,â he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, words barely formed.
You smile against his throat. âI wasnât.â
âYou were wiggling.â
âI was breathing.â
âSuspicious.â
You laugh quietly, brushing your nose against his collarbone. âI have to pee, you menace.â
He sighs dramatically but lets go. âFine but you better come back.â
You slide out of bed on shaky legs, still sore in all the right places from before your flight, and pad into the bathroom. When you come back out, Jungkookâs half-asleep again, shirtless, hair a beautiful mess against his pillow, one hand resting on your empty side like heâs waiting for you to fill it. You slip back in without a word, curling into him again, and his arm immediately wraps around your waist.
Thereâs a beat of silence before he speaks again.
âYou sure you donât wanna just move in?â
You blink. âWhat?â
He keeps his eyes closed, but you can hear the smile in his voice. âYouâre always here. My house smells like your lotion and your favorite coffee.My laundry has your socks. My fridge has that elderberry juice you likeâŠjust move in.â
You snort. âIs this your version of a proposal?â
âDepends. Is it working?â
You lean back to look at him, brows raised. âAre you being serious?â
He opens his eyes then, and theyâre clear, warm and honest in the soft morning light.
âI want you here,â he says simply. âMore than just sleepovers and sneaking around. I want to wake up like this all the time. With you in my bed, hogging my pillows, leaving your earrings on every surface.â
You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. âJungkookâŠâ
âYou donât have to say yes right now,â he adds quickly, brushing your cheek. âI know this isnât simple but Iâm serious about you, about us and I donât want to pretend like this is temporary anymore.â
Your heart thuds loud in your chest, but not from fear, from something much softer, deeper.
You trace your fingers over the line of his jaw. âLet me think about it?
He nods, but heâs smiling. âTake all the time you need.â
You kiss him then, slow and full of things youâre not ready to say out loud yet but he hears them anyway. And maybe you wonât say yes today but the extra toothbrush in his bathroom, the robe hanging on the back of his door, the fact that he always buys two of everythingâthat says plenty.
âBaby?â
âHmm?â He hums, voice still full of sleep.
âIâm hungry.â You say just as your stomach grumbles.
Jungkook cracks one eye open, his lips twitching in amusement as your stomach makes a second, louder protest.
âYou sure that wasnât an earthquake?â he teases, voice gravelly and way too attractive for someone whoâs barely awake.
You nudge his chest with a half-hearted glare. âDonât bully me.â
âIâm notâ he says with a grin, dragging you closer again like youâre not already tucked beneath him.
You rest your chin on his chest, giving him your best wide-eyed pout. âYou definitely are.â
He groans, clearly weak for the expression. âDonât do that. You know Iâm helpless when you look at me like that.â
âThen feed me,â you say sweetly, punctuating it with a kiss to the center of his chest.
Jungkook laughs, running a hand through his messy hair. âAlright, alright. I did say I stocked up.â
You roll out of bed again, this time a little less wobbly, stealing one of his oversized shirts from the floor as you go. He watches you pull it on, biting back a smile when it swallows you whole despite your full figure.
âGod, you look too good like that,â he mutters, finally dragging himself upright.
You smirk over your shoulder. âDonât get distracted, chef. I want food, not your morning wood.â
He grabs a pair of sweats and follows you down the hall anyway. âWe can multitask.â
âJeon Jungkook.â
âYes, noona?â he singsongs, opening the fridge and pulling out your favorite milk tea with a wink.
You catch it mid-air when he tosses it to you. âMenace.â
âYours.â
You settle onto one of the kitchen stools, watching him move around like he owns the spaceâwell, he does, but something about seeing him like this, shirtless, domestic, half-awake and still trying to impress you, makes your heart swell.
âWhat do you want?â he asks, rummaging in the freezer. âEggs? Toast? That overpriced cereal you made me buy?â
You shrug. âSurprise me.â
Jungkook grins over his shoulder. âDangerous game, baby.â
âYeah, well,â you sip your tea, legs swinging lazily under the counter. âYouâre the only kind of danger I donât mind running toward.â
And just like that, heâs blushing again, just a little but you see it and you love it.
God help you, youâre so in love with this man.
Jungkook doesnât answer right away not with words, at least. Instead, he turns back to the stove, shaking his head with a crooked grin like youâve just said something utterly ridiculous and utterly you. You catch the way his ears turn pink, the way his shoulders relax just a little more. Thatâs the thing about Jungkook, heâs good at taking care of people, but heâs not always used to being taken care of back and he definitely isnât used to being told heâs the kind of danger someone would run toward.
âStop staring,â he mutters under his breath, cracking eggs into a hot pan before popping bread into the toaster.
âIâm not,â you lie, chin propped in your palm as you keep watching him anyway. âIâm admiring, totally different.â
He side-eyes you, but thereâs no heat in it. âYouâre gonna make me burn your eggs.â
You hum. âWorth it.â
He snorts, flipping the eggs effortlessly with one hand and reaching for bacon with the other. âOne of these days Iâm gonna stop letting you be cute and get away with it.â
âYou love when I get away with it.â
He doesnât deny it, just slides the finished eggs and bacon onto a plate, adds buttered toast, and sprinkles something on top that youâre pretty sure is from the tiny jar of fancy sea salt he once insisted he didnât need and now swears by.
He sets the plate in front of you with a little flourish, then leans over the counter, arms folded, watching for your reaction like heâs Gordon Ramsay and youâre the only critic he cares about.
You take one biteâperfectly seasoned, eggs just the right amount of softâand moan dramatically. âOh my god. Jeon Gordon-Ramsay.â
He grins, all dimples and messy hair, leaning in a little closer. âYeah?â
You nod, mouth full. âMarry me.â
Jungkook blinks.
You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth.
ââŠToo much?â you ask, cheeks heating up instantly, thankful for your darker complexion so he couldnât have more ammo to tease you.
He doesnât say anythingâjust reaches over, gently takes the fork from your hand, and replaces it with his fingers laced through yours. His voice is low, warm, impossibly sincere, âAsk me again when youâre not chewing.â
You stare at him, heart thudding stupidly loud in your chest.
ââŠOkay,â you whisper, smiling slowly. âDeal.â
And just like that, your dangerous boyâbarefoot, sleep-mussed, feeding you eggs and calling you noona like itâs sacredâis suddenly everything you never saw coming and everything you never want to lose.
âYouâre staringâ you mumble as you bite into some bacon.
Jungkook doesnât even pretend to look away.He just leans on the counter across from you, chin resting in one hand, eyes glued to your face like youâre the only thing in the room worth noticing.
âYeah,â he says easily, like itâs the most natural thing in the world. âI am.â
You chew a little slower, narrowing your eyes at him as you reach for your milk tea. âYouâre making it weird.â
âYouâre weird,â he counters, voice teasing but still soft, like the quiet morningâs left a haze he doesnât want to break. âYou come back from Japan looking like that, wearing my shirt, stealing my bacon, and then act surprised when I stare?â
You snort into your drink. âYou made the bacon for me, Jeon.â
âAnd now I regret it,â he says, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.
You hum around another bite. âNo, you donât.â
âNo,â he admits, eyes dropping to the way you lick a bit of grease from your thumb. âI really, really donât.â
You glance up at him, catching that lookâthat soft, hungry, slightly-lovesick lookâand raise a brow. âDo you want more bacon, or do you want me?â
He shrugs one shoulder, playing it cool, but his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his fingers twitch against the counter like theyâre itching to touch you again. âWhy not both?â
You laugh, low and warm, setting your fork down and leaning closer. âYouâre hopeless.â
âIâm yours,â he says, without hesitation, voice quiet and deadly sincere.
The moment hangs there for a beatâlong enough for your breath to catch, long enough to feel the weight of it settle between your ribsâand then he grins, reaching over to steal a piece of bacon off your plate. âAnd I still want your bacon.â
You smack his hand half-heartedly, but your smile is already giving you away. He makes his way over to where youâre sitting and spins the stool youâre on.
âYah, I wasnât finished eating.â You playfully complain.
âAnd, I havenât eaten yet.â He retorts and before you can tell him to get himself some food he drops to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitches before you can even form a response, your fingers frozen around your fork as Jungkook settles between your legs like he belongs thereâhe absolutely doesâbut not while youâre still chewing on bacon.
âJungkook,â you warn, though thereâs little heat behind it, more disbelief than anything else. âI swear to Godââ
âIâm hungry,â he says, voice all faux innocence, lips already brushing against the inside of your thigh as he tugs the oversized shirtâhis shirtâup just enough to bare more skin. âAnd you said surprise you, right?â
You blink. âThat was about breakfast, food breakfast.â
He grins up at you, and itâs the kind of grin thatâs equal parts holy and devastating. âAnd Iâm full of surprises.â
You open your mouth to protestâtry to protestâbut his hands are warm on your thighs, and his eyes are anything but playful now. Focused. Intense. Like heâs already committed to ruining you all over again before the sunâs even fully up.
âYouâre insatiable,â you whisper, breath catching as his fingers trail just under the hem of your shorts.
He hums, mouth ghosting along your skin. âOnly for you.â
And then his lips partâpressing slow, teasing kisses up your inner thighâand your hands fly back to grip the edge of the counter behind you like itâs the only thing keeping you upright.
âYouâre actually a insane,â you gasp, legs instinctively widening when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.
He just chuckles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes and chaos in his smile. âNoona,â he murmurs, voice thick and dripping with intent, âlet me have my breakfast.â And as your head falls back, the half-eaten bacon forgotten on the plate behind you, you realize two very important things:
One, youâre probably not making it to lunch with your friends.
And two, Jungkookâs mouth? Definitely still your favorite kind of danger.
âYouâre so fucking spoiled and a munch.â Jungkook grins against your skin, completely unbothered by the accusation, thriving on it, if anything.
âYou say that like itâs a bad thing,â he murmurs, voice low and sinful as he presses another kiss higher up your thigh. âI am spoiled but whose fault is that, huh?â
Your breath stutters as he drags his lips slowly along your skin, eyes flicking up to meet yoursâsmug, dark, and stupidly pretty even on his knees.
âYou let me ruin you every time,â he says, nipping at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. âYou wear my clothes. You sit in my kitchen all pretty and soft, begging to be tasted without saying a damn word.â
âI didnât sayââ you start, only for your words to dissolve into a gasp as his hands tug your shorts down in one smooth motion.
âYou didnât have to,â he grins, tossing them aside. âYour thighs were already open for me. Youâre the spoiled one, baby. Iâm just playing my role.â
You groan, head falling back as he kisses the crease where your leg meets your hip, warm breath fanning over your already-sensitive skin. âYouâre insufferable.â
âAnd hungry,â he counters, licking a slow stripe up your center before groaning like itâs the first real meal heâs had in weeks. âFuck, I missed this.â
You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as your legs threaten to close around his head. âYouâre such a munch.â
He laughsâmoans, reallyâand presses a kiss right where it makes you twitch.
âSay it again,â he murmurs, tongue teasing, voice wrecked. âSay it while I make you scream.â
The worst part? You do scream because he is your spoiled, insatiable, annoyingly good with his mouth munch and you wouldnât trade him for the world.
âYouâre a munchâŠâ you moan as he grips your thighs and holds them over his shoulders.
Jungkook groans at your words, like being called out only spurs him on more, like he lives for the title.
âDamn right I am,â he growls against you, voice muffled by the way his mouth is already back on you, eating you like heâs been starving for days. âI could live here.â
His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging in just enough to ground you as he pushes them further apart over his shoulders, anchoring you to him like you might float away otherwise. His tongue works you over with practiced, almost worshipful precision, and every time you twitch, he just moans against you like itâs a reward.
âYou taste so fucking good,â he mumbles, barely breaking contact. âYou say it like an insult, but you donât want me to stop.â
Your head falls back as another wave rolls through you, your fingers tangled in his hair now, tugging without mercy. âKook, fuck, Iââ
He hums low, the vibration sending shockwaves up your spine. âSay it again.â
You barely manage it, voice catching in your throat. âYouâre such a fucking munch, babyâfuckââ
He smirks into you, and you feel it. âI know,â he breathes, eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and desperate and so gone in the act of devouring you. âAnd Iâm not stopping till you come all over my face.â
With the way heâs working youâpossessive and greedy and utterly in love with your pleasureâyou know heâs not bluffing. He never is when it comes to you.
âI need to be able to use my legs youâŠoh fuck!â
Jungkook laughsâlow, wrecked, and absolutely feralâright against your core, the sound vibrating through you as he locks his arms tighter around your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
âYou were saying?â he murmurs, lips brushing your slick skin like heâs kissing reverence into every inch of you.
âI need toâfuck, JungkookâI have things to do today,â you gasp, voice already breaking as your fingers curl helplessly in his hair. âYouâre gonna make me forget how to walk.â
âThatâs the plan, baby,â he says, and thereâs zero remorse in his tone. âYou think I waited four days while you were in Japan just to behave when I got you back in my bed?â
âThis isnât your bedâo meu deusâthis is the kitchen!â
âAnd itâll be the living room next if you keep whining,â he growls, tongue flicking against your clit just right as his grip shifts, one hand sliding up to palm your breast through the shirt you stole. âYouâre wearing my shirt, sitting half-naked at my kitchen counter, moaning my name and you expect me to act civilized?â
Your breath stutters, another moan spilling from your lips as your hips buck against his face, instinctive and desperate. He groans like itâs the best thing heâs ever tasted, like he wants you to lose control, like your unraveling is his personal mission from the heavens.
âYouâre shaking,â he murmurs, lapping you up like itâs the last meal heâll ever get. âCâmon, baby. Give it to me. Let me make those pretty legs useless for a little while.â
You try to respondâreally tryâbut the words melt into nothing as the pressure coiling in your gut snaps all at once, your whole body trembling as you cry out his name. Through it all, Jungkook doesnât let upânot until youâre twitching, breathless, and clinging to the counter like itâs the only thing holding you to earth. When he finally pulls back, lips shiny, hair a mess from your hands, he smirks up at you with the most insufferably smug expression youâve ever seen.
âTold you I was hungry.â
Honestly? You might hate him a little but you love him even more.
âFuck, no more you brat.â You moan trying to close your legs but he uses his shoulders to keep them apart.
â âm not done yet, still hungry.â Jungkook lets out a low, obscene moan at your wordsâhalf turned on, half thrilled by your attempt to resist him.
âOh, baby,â he breathes against your overstimulated core, lips brushing sensitive skin as he pushes your thighs open wider with his shoulders, locking you in place like you belong there. âYou donât get to call me a brat and think Iâm gonna stop.â
You try to squirm, your whole body twitching with every flick of his tongue, but heâs relentlessâhands gripping your hips, holding you steady while his mouth drives you right back over the edge.
âI justâfuckâI just came,â you gasp, thighs trembling on either side of his face.
He hums, completely unbothered. âI know and youâre gonna come again.â You whimper, hips jerking up helplessly, but he flattens his tongue against your clit and sucks slow and purposeful until your fingers are digging into the edge of the counter and your vision goes blurry.
âYou said I was a munch,â he pants between kisses, voice wrecked and soaked in heat. âSo let me eat, baby.â
âJungkookâŠfuck, Iââ
He grins up at you, lips slick, pupils blown wide. âYou can cry later. Right now, be a good girl and come in my mouth again.â
And with the way his tongue movesâdevoted, greedy, absolutely shamelessâyou know thereâs no stopping it.Heâs got you, and youâre not walking anywhere today.Not until heâs satisfied and definitely not until heâs had his fill.
You had no idea when you passed out but the next time your eyes open youâre back in his bed with him fast asleep between your legs. You peep the time on his bedside table and realize that you have just under two hours until you have to meet your friends for lunch before heading to the studio to meet Dabin.
Your body aches in that delicious, heavy way that only Jungkook can leave you withâthighs sore, lips kiss-swollen, skin still tingling from being worshipped like a five-course meal. You shift slightly, and he makes a soft sound in his sleep, nuzzling deeper into the inside of your thigh like itâs his personal pillow.
âUnreal,â you whisper, brushing your fingers through his hair gently.
Youâre not even mad, not really, just⊠wrecked and dangerously close to letting him keep you here for the rest of the day. The clock however, glares at you, reminding you that in under two hours, youâre supposed to be at table surrounded by your girls before going in a sound booth and pretending like your legs arenât jelly and your voice isnât hoarse from moaning his name.
You sigh and glance down at him again. âKook,â you whisper softly, nudging his shoulder.He hums in protest, brows scrunching, face still buried between your legs.
âJeon Jungkook,â you try again, firmer this time, tapping his arm.
âMm-mm.â He shakes his head lazily. âWarm. Comfortable. Mine.â
Your heart flips even as your eyes roll. âYou are clingy in the mornings.â
He peeks one eye open at you, lashes fluttering. âOnly when I fall asleep between heavenâs thighs.â
You groan, pushing at his forehead. âYouâre impossible.â
âYouâre delicious,â he counters with a sleepy grin, voice low and gravelly, like sin in audio form. âI regret nothing.â
âWell, Iâm gonna regret it when I show up to the studio sounding like I gargled gravel and walking like I rode a horse bareback.â
He chuckles, finally sitting up, hair a mess, lips kiss-bruised, and looking far too proud of himself. âYou say that like itâs my fault.â
âIt is your fault,â you shoot back, dragging the covers up to your chest.
He just grins, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to your cheek. âNeed help getting ready?â
âI need an IV drip and a wheelchair,â you mumble, already trying to plan how to disguise the limp youâre definitely going to have. Jungkook only laughs harder, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
âFine. Iâll get you coffee and one of those chocolate covered croissants you pretend to hate but secretly like when I pick you up from lunch.â
You eye him suspiciously. âAnd whatâs the catch?â
âNo catch,â he shrugs. âI just really, really like seeing you fucked out and fed.â
You toss a pillow at his head which he catches one-handed, still grinning. You love this menace even if heâs going to be the very reason you have to warm up your vocals for an extra thirty minutes today.
A reply comes back almost immediatelyâbecause of course it does.
Munchđ°
Youâre welcome đđ
You groan aloud, flopping onto your studio couch and resisting the urge to scream into the throw pillow beside you.Before you can fire off a snarky comeback, your phone buzzes again.
Munchđ°
Need me to kiss them better? Both of them? Real slow? With tongue? đ
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts.
Simpđș
Youâre not even sorry.
Munchđ°
Not even a little. In fact, Iâd like to formally apologize to your legs later⊠preferably while theyâre over my shoulders again đ
You stifle a laugh, glancing around the studio to make sure no one can see the absolute problem that is Jeon Jungkook lighting up your phone.
Simpđș
Youâre a menace and Iâm not letting you near me again unless Iâve cleared 48 hours of recovery time first.
Munchđ°
So Friday night then? đ Iâll bring electrolytes this time and a neck pillow. Iâm thoughtful like that.
You sigh, fighting the stupid smile on your face.Heâs impossible and insufferable but heâs yours and youâd let him ruin your legs all over again.
Simpđș
Nope, not happening. Sending you to Namjoon.
Jungkookâs typing bubble appears immediately.
Munchđ°
You think Namjoon can handle me? đ Mans gets stressed if his protein powder runs low.
Also?? Youâd really just give me away like that? After all weâve been through? After I folded you like laundry last night and this morning?? đ
You snort, covering your mouth as your manager walks by the studio door. No way youâre getting caught smiling at your phone like an idiot.
Simp đș
Exactly BECAUSE you folded me like laundry.
My hamstrings need a break, you Olympic-level menace.
Munchđ°
Yâknow what they say, an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.
Just so yk Iâm offended. You wouldnât survive a day without me.
I make sure youâre hydrated, fed, stretched out in all the right waysâŠ
Simpđș
Thatâs not a flex, itâs a threat to my wellbeingđ
Munchđ°
Then consider me your favorite threat đ
Thereâs a beat before another message comes through, and this one makes your heart stutter.
Munchđ°
For real though⊠take it easy today, okay? Studio can wait. You canât, Iâll bring dinner soon.
And just like that, you melt a little. Again.
Simpđș
Fine but only if itâs real food and not another box of chocolate Peppero and a banana.
Munchđ°
It was a balanced meal!!
Simpđș
Jungkook.
Munch đ°
Okay okay đ Youâll get proper food and maybe⊠a massage.
You roll your eyes but the warmth blooming in your chest is impossible to ignore.Youâre in too deep but you wouldnât have it any other way.
Simpđș
I want meat (not yours đ)
Jungkookâs typing bubble pops up so fast you know he was waiting for you to say something like that.
Munchđ°
đ€ Rude.
Mineâs organic, always available, and high in protein but fine. Meat thatâs not mine, I guess.
Fried chicken? Galbi? Or should I bring you bossam so you donât have to move your sore little legs?
You can practically hear the smug smirk in his voice through the screen.
Simpđș
Bossam sounds good but make sure you get that special spicy sauce from the restaurant. My pride hurts more than my legs rn.
Munchđ°
Spicy bossam. Got it.
And maybe something sweet to remind you whoâs really in charge đ€
You take a breath and stare at your phone, willing yourself not to text something reckless. You fail.
Simpđș
Iâm in charge of who gets to sleep between my thighs tonight, remember that.
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear.
Munchđ°
đł
You win.
Iâll be there at 7 with bossam, drinks, and a sincere apology to your lower body.
You smirk.
Simpđș
You can start by kissing my calves.
Munchđ°
Iâm bringing whipped cream.
Simpđș
No youâre not. You are not defiling my studio
Munchđ°
I didnât say Iâd use it in the studio but now that youâve brought it up⊠đ
You groan, already regretting your life choices.
Simpđș
You are not turning my soundproof booth into your personal sex dungeon.
Munchđ°
Not my fault itâs already the perfect size for bending you over a mixing desk.
Simpđș
Jungkook.
Munchđ°
Iâll bring snacks and behave.
Scoutâs honor.
Okay, I was never a scout but my tongue deserves a badge at this point.
You cover your face with your hands, torn between texting back and launching your phone into the nearest trash can.
Simpđș
If you even look at the booth funny, Iâm calling Yoongi to come supervise dinner.
Munchđ°
Okay okay đ Iâll behave.âŠuntil dessert.
You sigh, heart fluttering in that infuriating way it always does with him.
Simpđș
Dinner. Bossam. 7 PM. Not a minute later and donât you dare show up with that whipped cream.
Munchđ°
You act like I donât have a can stashed at your place already đ
You stare at the message. Then at the ceiling. Then at the imaginary camera like youâre on an episode of The Office. Youâre in so much trouble and you just let it happen.
Simpđș
I want a refund. What did they do to you in the military?
Jungkookâs typing bubble pops up instantly.
Munchđ°
Lmao NO REFUNDS đ
This version is upgraded. New stamina. Enhanced precision. Government-issued disciplineâŠstill a munch đ
You groan, thumbs flying over the screen before you can stop yourself.
Simpđș
Enhanced stamina my ass, I canât feel my legs and Iâm walking like a baby deer in front of producers.
Munchđ°
Sounds like a you problem. Maybe next time you wonât call me a brat mid-ride đ€
Simpđș
You are a brat. An elite-trained, sleep-deprived, walking thirst trap of a brat.
Munchđ°
And youâre the reason I almost missed my morning workout cause I was still recovering from round three.
Simpđș
Oh please. You chose round three. I begged for mercy.
Munchđ°
You begged for more. Donât lie.
You pauseâŠYou did beg for more.
Simpđș
Still want that refund tho
Munchđ°
Denied.
You re-enlisted the second you let me back between your legs.
You choke on your iced coffee.
Munchđ°
I have your food,be there soon.
Try not to act like the simp you are
You fling your phone onto the couch.You hate him (you donât).You hate how good he is at this and that heâs right about you being a simp for him. And you especially hate that your legs are already twitching at the sound of the door buzzer.
No refund, no escape. Just Jeon Jungkook and every sinful thing he learned while serving his country.
You donât move to open the door because you know he knows how to get in but youâre also feeling a bit mean. You settle back onto the couch, legs tucked under you, sipping the rest of your iced coffee like youâre not actively plotting war crimes. The buzzer goes off again, persistent but not impatient. You glance at the door, then at the clock and then back at the door again.
He has the code. He always had the code but youâre feeling a little spiteful. A little sore and a little too aware of the fact that you canât bend over without whimpering like you just ran a triathlon in heels so you text him instead.
Simpđș
Figure it out, soldier. Iâm on R&R.
A second passes.
Munchđ°
wowâŠnot the military lingo đ
Another pause before the lock beeps and the door creaks open slowly.Thereâs silence for a beat too long before he speaks.
ââŠYou left me in the hallway. With bossam. Like a peasant.â
You hum. âI was emotionally recovering from your mouth, Jeon. I needed time.â
He shuts the door and toes off his shoes. âEmotionally recovering or plotting revenge?â
âA little column A, a little column B.â
Jungkook appears in your peripheral vision, two plastic bags in one hand and that infuriating smirk on his face. âSo this is what betrayal feels like.â
âYouâll live,â you say dryly. âYou have the stamina of a demonic golden retriever. Youâll survive a little door delay.â
He drops the bags on the little coffee table, walks over to you, and leans down until his face is barely an inch from yours. âI should leave with the food and eat it in my car.â
You blink up at him innocently. âBut then who would I let kiss my sore thighs later?â His jaw clenches. You see itâŠfeel the air between you shift.
âYouâre evil,â he whispers.
âAnd youâre addicted,â you whisper back.
He straightens up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he triesâand failsânot to grin. âI hate how much I like you like this.â
You shrug. âThen feed me, soldier. Maybe Iâll forgive you.â
He heads back to unpack the food, muttering something about whipped cream and karma under his breath. You smile to yourself.
Checkmate.
âI still want my kiss or youâre not eating.â He mumbles as he unpacks the food on your little studio coffee table. You arch a brow, watching him from your perch on the couch like heâs a particularly bratty raccoon rifling through your snack stash.
âYouâre the one who brought the food,â you point out, folding your arms. âSeems like Iâve already won here.â
Jungkook doesnât even look up as he carefully peels the lid off the bossam container, steam rising into the air. âYou havenât won anything until I decide you can have rice.â
You narrow your eyes. âYou wouldnât dare.â
âOh, I would.â He glances up then, smug and unbothered, chopsticks in hand. âNo kiss, no kimchi. Itâs simple math.â
âYouâre seriously holding my meal hostage for a kiss?â
âA kiss,â he says, placing extra emphasis on the a. âNot a wild request considering I let you suffocate me with your thighs less than twenty-four hours ago.â
You throw a crumpled napkin at him. He dodges it easily, grinning like the absolute menace he is.
You groan, dragging yourself off the couch with the kind of dramatics reserved for musical theater majors and overworked idols. You step around the table, lean down slowly, dramatically, until your face is just inches from his.
âFine,â you mutter, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
But Jungkook? Jungkook doesnât do quick.
Before you can pull away, his hand comes up to the back of your neck, guiding you in as he turns his head and kisses you properlyâdeep and slow and way too intimate for someone whoâs threatening your dinner.
You pull back with a breathless laugh. âThat was not part of the agreement.â
âSure it was,â he says, licking his lips and handing you a lettuce wrap like itâs a peace offering. âFine print: one kiss. My terms.â
You flop back onto the couch, grabbing the wrap from his hand.
âYouâre exhausting.â
âYou love it.â
ââŠUnfortunately.â
He grins like heâs just won a trophy, popping a piece of bossam into his own mouth. âThatâs what I thought.â
And just like that, the tension melts awayâreplaced by warm food, low laughter, and the soft shuffle of feet brushing under the table like youâre two kids playing house.
Except this?
This is very, very real and so is the grin he gives you between bitesâlike youâre the best thing heâs ever tasted.
âJoon said that you guys are going to America soon to work on the next album.â
Jungkook hums, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. âYeah, probably end of next month. Nothingâs set in stone yet, but thatâs the plan.â
You nod, fingers idly tearing a piece of lettuce before wrapping another bite. âYou excited?â
He glances over at you, eyes softening. âYeah⊠I mean, itâs always fun working out there. New energy, new sound. ButâŠâ He trails off, biting his lip.
You raise an eyebrow. âBut?â
He shrugs, suddenly a little more focused on rearranging the food on his plate than looking at you. âJust sucks, yâknow. Every time we go, it feels longer and I just got you back.â
You pause mid-bite, heart thudding a little harder in your chest. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but loaded. He finally looks up at you, eyes steady.
âDonât like the idea of being that far from you again.â
You chew slowly, then swallow. âItâs not forever, Koo.â
âI know.â He leans back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. âBut after being gone so long for enlistment, and then finally getting here with youâitâs different now. I donât want distance between us unless itâs your turn to go do something amazing.â
You smile, lips quirking. âSo no long-distance clause in our fake NDA?â
âNope,â he says, popping the p and pointing at your mouth. âAnd especially not if youâre gonna be pouting into your bossam like that while Iâm a few time zones away.â
You roll your eyes. âI do not pout.â
âYou do,â he says seriously. âItâs adorable and totally weaponized. Iâm afraid of it.â
You throw a piece of radish at him. He dodges it with a grin.
âBut hey,â he continues, voice softer now, âif I go⊠will you come visit?â
You blink. âLike, in America?â
âYeah,â he says, almost shy. âI mean, if your schedule allows. Weâll have a rental house, maybe near a beach. I can cook for you, and we can just beâŠyou and me.â
Your chest tightens again. Stupidly. Warmly.
âYeah,â you say, quieter than before. âIâd like that.â
He grins, and this time itâs softer, sweeter. Like you just promised him the whole damn world.
âThen itâs a date,â he says.
And just like thatâagainâyouâre reminded that no matter where the two of you are in the worldâŠ
Youâre still in the same orbit.
Jungkook nudges your knee with his. âDonât make that face.â
You blink. âWhat face?â
âThat âIâm pretending this isnât making me feel fifty different things at onceâ face.â
You scoff, even as your lips twitch with the truth. âIâm literally just eating bossam.â
He grins. âYouâre emotionally eating bossam. Different.â
You glance at himâreally glanceâand suddenly itâs all hitting a little harder than it should. The domesticity of this moment. His sock covered feet tucked under him. The crease between his brows that only appears when heâs holding back something sincere. The fact that he just casually offered a beach house getaway like it wasnât the most romantic thing youâve heard in months.
You clear your throat. âWhat if I canât come? What if I get swamped with work or the timing doesnât line up?â
He shrugs, but itâs not careless. âThen weâll figure it out. Iâll fly you out. Iâll fly back. Weâll schedule sleepovers over FaceTime like teenagers. I donât care how we do it. I just care that we keep choosing to.â
Your mouth goes dry at that because itâs not just what heâs sayingâitâs how heâs saying it. No dramatics. No grand declarations.
Just simple, steady devotion. Like itâs the most natural thing in the world to work around time zones and security risks and industry pressureâbecause the alternative is not having each other, and thatâs not even on the table.
You whisper, âYouâre really not scared of this, huh?â
Jungkookâs quiet for a second and then he reaches for your hand.
âI was,â he admits. âBefore. When I didnât know what I wanted. When I thought maybe we were just some blurred line I didnât know how to define.â
He laces his fingers through yours.
âBut now? No. I know what I want. And itâs this. Even if itâs messy. Even if itâs complicated. Even if Iâve gotta bribe your manager with concert tickets to steal you away for a weekend.â
You laugh softly, trying not to let your eyes sting.
âAnd besides,â he says, grinning again, âwho else is gonna use the microwave or match my socks for me?â
You smirk, squeezing his hand. âYouâd be lost without me.â
âExactly,â he says without hesitation. âSo donât go getting any ideas about returning me for that refund, okay?â
You nudge his leg. âFine. Iâll keep you.â
He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple. âGood. Because Iâm not going anywhere.â
And for the first time in a long time, you believe him. Completely but you still tease him anyways.
âI mean technically, you are.â
Jungkook pauses mid-sip of his drink, eyes lifting to meet yours with a playful squint.
âWow,â he says slowly. âWay to ruin a moment.â
You grin, shrugging as you pop another piece of bossam into your mouth. âJust saying. You are going somewhere. Like⊠across the globe. Again.â
He sets his cup down with exaggerated care, like heâs offended on behalf of every dramatic K-drama monologue ever uttered. âI bare my soul to you, give you soft domestic vibes, offer you a beach houseâand you hit me with technically?â
You laugh, unapologetic. âTechnically keeps us grounded, Kook. Someoneâs gotta remind you of the realities.â
âOh, Iâm very aware of the realities,â he says, sliding a little closer. âIâm very aware that Iâve got a limited number of nights left to spend with you before Iâm stuck in a rental house full of loud men who eat my snacks and donât look nearly as good in my clothes.â
You roll your eyes, though your smile betrays you. âPlease. Tae definitely looks good in your hoodie.â
âOkay, rude.â He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear now. âBut not as good as you.â
You shiver, rolling your eyes harder, even as your face flushes. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd youâre mine,â he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. âEven if I am technically going halfway across the world.â
You glance at him, warmth blooming again in your chest. âYeah?â
âYeah.â He nods, firm and certain. âYouâll be here. Iâll be there. But weâll still be us. Thatâs not changing.â
You stare at him for a beat, then slowly hold out your pinky.
âNo refunds,â you say softly. âEven if you forget the timezone difference and call me at 3 a.m.â
Jungkook links his pinky with yours, smile turning gentle. âEven if you send me passive-aggressive selfies from my empty bedâŠstill no refunds.â He kisses your knuckle. âYouâre stuck with me.â
Youâre okay with that.
Technically, emotionally, completelyâyouâre okay with that.
âCan I at least keep Bam in the event of divorce?â
Jungkook gaspsâactually gaspsâlike you just suggested kicking his drum set off a cliff.
He clutches his chest dramatically. âDivorce? Weâre not even fake-married yet and youâre already planning the custody battle?â
You snort, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. âItâs called being proactive, Jeon. Iâm just saying, if things go southâhypotheticallyâI want partial custody of Bam.â
âYou want custody of my dog?â
âOur emotional support dog,â you correct, stabbing a piece of meat with your chopsticks. âLetâs not pretend he didnât choose me that one time I was crying over your dumb ass.â
âThat was one time!â
âAnd it was pivotal. We bonded.â
Jungkook narrows his eyes, leaning forward until youâre nose to nose. âYou canât just use a single moment of canine weakness to claim my son.â
âYour son?â you scoff. âI raised him while you were off in the army, soldier boy.â
âHe stayed with my parents!â
âEmotionally, I raised him,â you say with a smirk, and Jungkook groans like youâve just sucker-punched him with facts.
He slumps back against the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes. âThis is betrayal. Full betrayal. This is how it starts. First the bossam, then Bam, then Iâm kicked out of my own apartment with nothing but a pair of mismatched socks and a toothbrush.â
You pat his knee sympathetically. âYou can keep the socks. Iâm not heartless.â
He peeks out from under his arm, grinning now despite himself. âYouâre lucky youâre hot.â
âAnd youâre lucky I havenât drawn up the prenup.â
âObviously,â you say, like it was never a question. âWeâll alternate weekends and holidays. Bam deserves stability.â
Jungkook just shakes his head, laughter bubbling up as he pulls you into his side. âGod, I hate how much sense that makes.â
âGuess you better keep me, then.â
He kisses your forehead, warm and lingering. âWasnât planning on letting go anyway.â
âOkay, now back to work I go, thanks for the food Bun,â you press a kiss to his lips and move to get up.
Jungkook catches your wrist before you can fully stand, fingers gentle but firm.
âWait,â he says, tugging you back just enough to make you stumble into his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder with the weight of someone who really doesnât want to let go. âFive more minutes.â
You laugh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. âKook, if I give you five, youâll ask for ten. Then twenty. Then suddenly Iâve missed my studio session and youâve convinced me to take a nap I didnât plan for.â
He hums, completely unashamed. âI love when you nap here. You look peaceful⊠and I get to hold you.â
âYou do know how dangerous it is when you say stuff like that right before I need to be productive?â you mumble, already melting a little in his arms.
âDangerâs my middle name, noona,â he teases, placing a kiss just under your jaw. âYou knew that when you signed the fake contract.â
You grin. âIs that what weâre calling this now? A legally binding emotional entanglement?â
âWith addendums,â he says, kissing your shoulder. âNo long-distance. No refunds. Full joint custody of Bam. Unlimited kisses before studio time.â
You tilt your head to look at him, arching a brow. âAnd what do I get in return?â
âMy eternal devotion,â he says dramatically, then drops his voice to a whisper. âAlso back rubs. Food deliveries. And⊠Iâll stop teasing you about that weird thing you do when you eat pineapple.â
You gasp. âYou promised never to bring that up again!â
âI lied,â he says sweetly, smiling into your skin.
You groan, pushing at his face. âOkay, now Iâm leaving.â
âFine,â he sighs, releasing you with great ceremony after stealing a few more kisses. âGo make magic, superstar.â
You get to your feetânot without him swatting your ass firstâand ruffle his hair as you pass, heading toward your desk. âYou gonna behave while I work?â
âNo,â he says simply, sprawling out across the couch like heâs got all the time in the world. âBut Iâll be quiet while I misbehave.â
You turn around just long enough to shoot him a warning look. âDefine quiet, Jeon.â
He smirks, one arm tucked behind his head, the other reaching lazily for the last piece of kimchi. âNo loud slurping. No aggressive pouting. Only subtle distractions.â
You narrow your eyes. âKookââ
âIâll only stretch a little too dramatically,â he continues with a glint in his eye. âMaybe yawn and accidentally flash some abs. Completely innocent.â
You blink at him. âYou are such a menace.â
âAnd yet,â he says, mouth full of rice now, âyou love me.â
You point a chopstick at him like a sword. âThis love is conditional.â
âSure it is,â he mumbles, already scrolling through his phone like he didnât just derail your entire concentration. âConditional on whether or not I buy you black sugar boba tea after your session.â
You pause.
ââŠYou remembered?â
âOf course I did.â He looks up, eyes soft and sure. âI remember everything about you.â
Your heart stutters in your chest, just for a moment.
And then, in your most even tone, âYouâre still not getting a kiss if you distract me.â
He grins. âThatâs what you think.â
You glare.
He winks.
You sigh, turning back to your desk with all the willpower of someone pretending their insides arenât melting.
Behind you, the soft tap of his phone keys and the hum of a lo-fi playlist fill the room.And despite his earlier declarationâŠ
Heâs quiet.
He behaves.
Sort of.
But you still catch him stealing glances when he thinks youâre too focused to notice.
And somehow, knowing heâs thereâlounging in your studio, half-watching you work, half-daydreaming about breakfast tomorrowâfeels like the safest kind of chaos.
The kind youâd never trade for anything.
âKoo?â
Jungkook looks up immediately, eyes alert and soft all at once, like heâs been waiting for you to say his name.
âYeah, baby?â
You hesitate, pen still in your hand, screen still glowing in front of you, but your thoughts have drifted somewhere he canât quite see.
He sits up straighter, resting his forearms on his knees now. âWhatâs up?â
âCan you run your vocals on this for me please? Tryna see something.â
His eyebrows lift slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it melts into something warmerâsomething proud.
âYeah?â he asks, already rising from the couch. âYou want me to lay something down?â
You nod, twirling the pen between your fingers. âJust temp vocals. I want to hear how it sounds with a male voice. I feel like itâs not meant to be a solo.â
He crosses the room in three strides, already scanning the open session on your screen. âYou couldâve asked me earlier, yâknow. Wouldâve skipped the flirting and fed you straight from the mic.â
You snort. âThatâs a lie. Youâd still flirt, probably into the mic.â
âCanât help that Iâm multitalented,â he says with a wink, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your head before settling at your recording setup.
He slips the headphones on, adjusts the mic slightly, and gives you a small nod to cue him in before focusing on the lyric sheet in front of him.
You press play. The instrumental kicks in, your layered harmonies floating under the bridgeâdelicate, but a little too clean. And then Jungkook starts to sing.
Lately, I have tears clouding up my eyes
Comes out of nowhere, middle of a conversation
Rain pouring out of clear skies (clear skies)
I'm underwater
Wonder if it's all because of you
Are you close to giving up?
Somehow, it's all because of you
It's funny when it comes to us, oh
Whenever you're cold, I'm shivering
Whenever you're stoned,I'm hovering
It's like, whenever you're gone, I'm losing it
Like, baby, I go where you go
Whenever you fall, I fall behind
Oh, whenever you're stuck, I see red lights
It's like, whenever you're gone, I'm not alright'
Cause, baby, I go where you go (I go where you go)
He asks for your input on pronunciation but Jungkook sings it like it was written for him and lowkeyâŠit pisses you off a little. Not in a bad way,more like in the âhow dare he casually rip my heart out and serve it back with reverb and perfect pitchâ kind of way.
Because this was your song, your draft, your melody.Yet somehow, the moment his voice slips into itâvelvety, raw, textured in all the places youâd only imaginedâit becomes something else entirely.
You blink at the playback monitor, arms folded over your chest like that might somehow protect you from the sudden emotional whiplash. âKook.â
He glances at you from behind the mic, brows raised, lips curved in the ghost of a smile. âToo much?â
You shake your head slowly. âToo perfect.â
He grins now, pulling off the headphones and walking back toward you, his tone casual, but his eyes burning with a kind of quiet satisfaction. âSo Iâm hired?â
âYou werenât even auditioning,â you mutter, leaning back in your chair to hide the way your heartâs doing somersaults. âBut yeahâŠthe trackâs yours.â
Jungkook pauses at that, just for a second and then âFeels kinda like you just asked me to be your musical soulmate.â
You give him a look. âDonât ruin the moment.â
âIâm serious.â He leans down until his face is level with yours, voice dipping into something softer. âYou write lyrics like youâre bleeding them. Letting me sing them feels likeâlike youâre letting me carry some of it.â
You blink.
He shrugs. âJust donât want to take it lightly. I know what this means to you.â
You look at him for a moment, stunned silent by how effortlessly he always sees youâeven in the things you donât say.
Then, finally, with a small smile: âI didnât ask you to carry it. I asked you to sing it.â
âSame thing,â he whispers, and you hateâhateâhow your throat tightens at that.
He reaches down and laces your fingers with his. âYou sure you want me on the record?â
You nod.
Because yes,this is your song but, his voice?
His voice made it feel like your story became a story you both lived through and somehow, thatâs even better.
âOkay,â he says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. âLetâs make something unforgettable, yeah?â
And just like that, youâre back at your deskâheadphones on, session armed, trying not to fall even more in love with the boy who just made your song sound like home.
âYour turn,â
âWhat? No, I already recorded the whole thing. Iâll just edit and mix both.â
âCâmon, please?â
Jungkook gives you that lookâwide-eyed, bottom lip poked out just enough to be lethal. âCâmon, please?â he repeats, voice soft and way too dangerous for this tiny-ass studio space.
You narrow your eyes. âDonât weaponize the bunny face.â
âIâm not,â he lies, sitting back in the chair like a puppy who definitely knocked over the trash can and still wants a treat. âI just wanna hear what it sounds like when we sing it together. Just once.â
You sigh, setting your tablet down with the weight of someone about to cave completely. âYou know youâre insufferable, right?â
He beams. âAnd yet, youâre still in love with me.â
âThatâs debatable.â
âThen prove it,â he says, dragging another mic into place. âSing with me.â
You huff dramatically, but youâre already moving. Adjusting the levels, setting up your headphones, pulling the lyrics back up even though you wrote the damn thing.
âI swear, if you start harmonizing with me mid-line just to flexââ
âNo promises,â he grins.
The track starts. The intro filters in, you take a breath and you sing.
At first itâs hesitant,light and measured but then he joins you, slipping under your vocals like a second skin, smooth and steady, and just like thatâŠ
You remember why you write songs at all.
Not for the charts.
Not for the producers.
Not even for the fans.
But for moments like thisâwhere your voice and someone elseâs meet in the middle and make something that feels like the truth.You pick up where he left off.
I can't get out of bed in the morning
Now if you don't (ah-ah), mmm
I can't smile, I don't see no more good in me now if you don't
'Cause lately, I have tears clouding up my eyes
Comes out of nowhere, middle of a conversation
Rain pouring out of clear skies (clear skies)
I'm underwater
Then he falls back in with you.
Whenever you're cold, I'm shivering
Whenever you're stoned, I'm hovering (yeah, yeah)
It's like, whenever you're gone, I'm losing it
Like, baby, I go where you go
Whenever you fall, I fall behind
Whenever you're stuck, I see red lights (middle of a conversation)
Whenever you're gone, I'm not alright (whenever you're gone)
'Cause, baby, I go where you go (wherever you go, you go)
Now, baby, I'll go where you go
Now, baby, I'll go where you go
Now, I'll go where you go
Now baby, I'll go where you go (ooh, whoa)
Now, baby, I'll go where you go
Now, baby, I'll go where you go, mmm
And I go where you go (go where you go)now, baby, I go where you go
Now, baby, I'll go where you go, mmm
The last line fades outâââNow,baby, I go where you goââand the silence that follows is deafening. You pull off your headphones slowly, heart pounding a little too fast.
Jungkook doesnât say anything at first.He just sits there across from you, headphones half-off, chest rising a little quicker than normal as if heâs trying to process it all the same way you are. Like the air in the studioâs gotten too heavy, too real.
Then he exhalesâlong and lowâand his voice comes out quiet, a little raw.
ââŠDamn.â
You blink, still not looking at him, eyes focused somewhere around the waveform slowly fading on the screen. âYeah.â
Another second passes, maybe two and then you hear him speak. âThat didnât sound like a demo,â he says, almost stunned.
You finally look at him but heâs watching you like you just cracked open the sky.
âThat sounded likeââ he swallows, ââus.â
The words hit a little too deep.
You shift in your seat, tugging the headphones completely off and dropping them on the desk. âYouâre gonna make me cry and I donât have time to be emotional.â
Jungkook laughs, but itâs soft and full of something achingly tender. âYouâre seriously unbelievable.â
âSo are you,â you say before you can stop yourself, and it comes out more vulnerable than intended.
He doesnât joke this time. Doesnât flirt.He just looks at you like heâs seeing the whole universe in your expression.
âYou know this is gonna be big, right?â he says. âThe song. Us.â
You bite your lip, not answering because you do know.This isnât just a track anymore, not just a collab and definitely not just a love song with clean harmonies and emotional lyrics.
Itâs a timestamp.A snapshot of you and him in the middle of becoming something real.
ââŠWe should finish it,â you say, barely above a whisper.
Jungkook smiles, slow and soft. âWe just did.â
You breathe out a quiet laugh, hand reaching toward the mouse to save the session.
âYou want to name it now or later?â
He grins. ââWhere You Go.â Feels right.â
You nod. âYeah⊠it really does.â
And as he leans over to press a kiss to your templeâgentle, reverent, sureâyou realize something else,
You didnât just find your voice in that recording.
You found your person, too.
âI never intended to keep it⊠but now,â you murmur, turning slightly in your chair to face Jungkook, your lips curling into the faintest of smirks, âI might be convinced.â
His brow arches, amused. âConvinced to keep the song?â
You hum noncommittally, eyes flicking to the waveform still glowing on the screen. âThe songâŠthe moment⊠maybe even the man behind the bunny pout.â
Jungkookâs grin turns boyish and a little smug as he leans in, arms braced on either side of your chair, caging you in without touching. âOh? That sounds dangerously close to commitment.â
You pretend to consider. âWell, you did feed me, sing with me, and offer me full custody of Bam in the event of a breakup.â
âJoint custody,â he corrects with a grin. âAnd that was before you admitted you maybe love me.â
You scoff. âYouâre never letting that go, are you?â
âNope,â he says, popping the p with glee. âBecause you love me, and now youâre keeping our song.â
You roll your eyes, but thereâs no heat in it. Just warmth, familiarity and that steady, annoying, addictive feeling that comes with him.
ââŠmaybe Iâll keep both.â
He blinks, caught off guard for a second. Then the smile that spreads across his face is pure sunshine. âYou better.â
And when he kisses you, soft and slow and so full of certainty, you realize you were never just keeping the song.
You were always keeping him.
âAnother one for the folder of personals that wonât be released,â you sigh, dragging the project file into your aptly named âEmotional Baggage / Private Collectionâ folder.
Jungkook, still close, still watching you with that frustratingly observant gaze, tilts his head. âBaby⊠why do you hide your voice?â
You pause, hand hovering over the trackpad.
He doesnât sound accusing. JustâŠcurious. Quiet. Almost careful, like heâs asking about something fragile.
You stare at the screen a moment longer before answering. âBecause sometimes it feels too real when I hear it.â
Jungkookâs brow furrows gently, but he doesnât interrupt.
âItâs likeâŠâ You wet your lips, searching for the right words. âSingingâs always been the safest place for me to put feelings I didnât know how to say out loud. Once itâs a song, I donât have to explain itâŠI just let it go and let the artist make it theirs. But hearing my own voice say those things out loud?â You shake your head slowly. âThatâs different. Thatâs⊠exposing.â
Heâs quiet for a beat. âYou feel like itâs telling on you.â
You look up, startled by how easily he named it.
âYeah,â you whisper. âExactly.â
Jungkook walks over to your side of the desk and crouches beside your chair, resting his arm on your knee like heâs grounding you.
âI think your voice is the most honest thing in the room,â he says, soft but sure. âEven when youâre scared, even when youâre angry, even when you donât want anyone to know what youâre feeling⊠it comes through anyway. And itâs beautiful.â
You smile, tired and touched. âYouâre biased.â
âObviously,â he grins, squeezing your leg. âBut Iâm also right.â
You roll your eyes but donât pull away. âThat doesnât mean I want to release songs that sound like diary entries.â
âThatâs fine,â he says. âYou donât have to but I hope you never stop recording them. Even if they stay in this folder forever.â
You glance at the screen again. At the waveform still pulsing with the echo of your voice and his.
âWhy?â you ask, genuinely.
âBecause,â he says, eyes on yours. âEven if the world never hears them, I want you to have a place where your heartâs allowed to speak.â
And damn him for always saying the exact thing that makes you want to keep him a little longer.
So you nod, just once, then whisper, âWanna do another take with me?â
He smiles like you just said I love you again.
âYeah. Always.â
Youâre running adlibs when you feel Jungkookâs hands on your waist.
âBun, you said youâd behave.â
He hums against your neck, completely unapologetic as his fingers splay over your waist. âI am behaving,â he says, voice low and laced with amusement. âJust⊠multitasking.â
You donât even turn around, still focused on the mic and the playback in your headphones, but your voice comes out half-laugh, half-sigh. âYou have a very loose definition of behaving.â
His thumbs rub slow, deliberate circles into your sides. âYou sound so good,â he murmurs, leaning in a little closer, lips just brushing your ear now. âKinda hard to sit still when youâre out here singing like that.â
âYou said you were gonna be quiet,â you point out, trying to ignore the way goosebumps bloom along your skin.
âI lied,â he says, grinning. âYouâre used to that by now.â
You finally turn, one brow raised in mock disapproval. âYouâre playing a dangerous game, Jeon.â
He lifts both hands like heâs surrendering but heâs smiling that smug, Iâd-risk-it-all-again smile. âJust appreciating the view.â
âAppreciate from over there,â you say, gesturing toward the couch with your pen.
He doesnât move.
In fact, he steps closer.
âCanât,â Jungkook says, voice dropping half an octave as his fingers dip just under the hem of your top.âAppreciation requires proximity.â
You narrow your eyes. âSo does getting dropkicked.â
He laughs, low and delighted, like you just flirted back instead of threatened bodily harm. âSee? This is why I missed you. Always threatening me while looking like the cutest problem Iâve ever had.â
âYouâre unbelievable,â you mutter, turning back to your mic and tryingânot very successfullyâto ignore the way your heart stutters when he presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder.
âAnd youâre irresistible,â he fires back easily, lips dragging along your top collar before he pulls away just enough to let you breathe again.
âOkay,â you say, clearing your throat and hitting record like you havenât just been manhandled into a flustered puddle. âAdlibs. Weâre focusing. No distractions.â
âYes maâam,â Jungkook says behind you, finally retreating to the couch like a good boy with zero good intentions.
And just as youâre halfway through your first run, you hear it, soft and smug through your headphones, âStill sound like sex.â
You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.
âOut. Out.â
Heâs already laughing, kicking his feet up, arms folded behind his head like heâs never been more pleased with himself.
âIâll be quiet now,â he promises.
You glare. âThatâs what you said last time.â
And stillâstillâyouâre smiling.
âIf you promise to be quiet and let me finish thisâŠroad head.â
Jungkook freezes mid-laugh, eyes snapping to yours with a look thatâs half-shocked, half-starved.
ââŠWhat?â
You tilt your head innocently, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your grin in check. âYou heard me.â
He blinks. âRoad head? Like⊠in exchange for silence?â
You nod. âFinish the adlibs, finish the mix, and if you sit there like a good boy for the next twenty minutes without interrupting me onceââ you pause, letting your voice dip just a touch, ââyou get a reward.â
Thereâs a beat of loaded silence before he drags a hand down his face, muttering something in that sounds suspiciously like a prayer and a curse all at once.
âYouâre evil,â he finally says, looking at you like you just offered him the keys to heaven and hell.
You shrug, deadpan. âMotivation works better than threats.â
âDo not test me right now,â he growls, flopping backward onto the couch like heâs already being tortured. âTwenty minutes. I can do twenty minutes.â
âWithout touching me.â
He whines. âYouâre literally wearing my shirt.â
âAnd if you behave,â you say sweetly, already turning back to your work, âyou can wear me instead.â
A strangled sound escapes him.
And for the next twenty minutes, Jungkook is the quietest heâs ever beenâeyes glued to the timer on your screen, lips pressed together like if he so much as breathes wrong, youâll take it all back.
You donât even need to check to know that he moment you hit save on the final mix, heâs already reaching for the car keys.
âTime to pay up.â He mumbles grabbing your bag.
âYahh, lemme at least shut the equipment down.â You complain when he swivels your chair around.
Jungkookâs eyes are practically glowing with anticipation, his grip on your studio chair firm as he grins down at youâsmug, boyish, and completely unhinged.
âYouâll live,â he says, snatching your headphones off gently and tossing them onto the desk like your whole studio setup isnât worth more than his car. âPriorities, noona.â
âMy priorities,â you huff, reaching behind you for the mouse, âinvolve not accidentally frying a five million won interface.â
But itâs too late, heâs already pulling you to your feet and grabbing your bag with one hand while the other tugs you toward the door like a man possessed.
âMultitask later,â he mumbles, swinging the strap of your bag over his shoulder. âYou gave your word and you know what that means.â
You narrow your eyes. âI gave you a conditional deal. The agreement was no interruptions, andââ
âAnd I didnât say a single word after that last warning,â he cuts in smugly. âNot one. I even muted my phone. You donât know how hard it was not to breathe too loud.â
You squint at him. âYou also stared at me like I was a snack for twenty straight minutes.â
âThat wasnât in the terms,â he shrugs, lips twitching. âBesides, you didnât say I couldnât be turned on.â
You groan, letting your head fall back as he opens the studio door and gently herds you out into the hallway.
âI hate you.â
âNo, you donât.â
You glare. âI should.â
He stops in front of the elevator, turns to face you, and leans in until his nose is brushing yours, voice soft but full of mischief. âBut youâre gonna give me road head anyway.â
You open your mouth to argueâbut the elevator dings, and the second the doors open, he ushers you in like a man on a mission.
âCarâs already running,â he adds as you both step inside, grinning like the devil himself. âSeat reclined. Playlist set. Tinted windows. Letâs ride.â
You donât know whether to slap him or climb into his lap right there in the elevator.
Either way, this man? Will certainly be the death of you.
Credits to the rightful owner of the pictures used above @jung-koook, I hope I have it correct.
Summary: The last thing you expected after coming back from Brazil was finding Jungkook in your kitchen like nothing had ever happened. Fresh out of the military, heâs determined to prove heâs changed and that he wants more than a situationship this time. You swore you wouldnât let him back in after the silence he left you with, but when he asks for a second chance, the walls around your heart start to crack.Heâs doing everything to win you over again, and youâre starting to realize resisting himâespecially when he smiles and looks at you like thatâmight be impossible.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, oral (f.rec), unprotected sex, jk is a simp and a munch with no shame about it, jk calls her noona but itâs mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but itâs not explicitly mentioned, aftercare, more to come in the other parts but let me know if I missed anything.
W.C: 11.6k
The last thing you expected to see when you returned home from your trip to Brazil was your ex-situationship in your kitchen like it was a normal thing. Jungkook had been discharged from the military almost a month ago and one of the first persons he wanted to see was you. Youâd gone silent on him and he understood why but he needed you to know that you were both on the same track. He just lagged a bit and it gave you the wrong impression.
âYahh, Jeon Jungkook!! What the fuck are you doing?â
Jungkook doesnât even flinch at your outburst. He turns from where heâs comfortably leaned against your kitchen counter, a glass of iced water in his hand like he owns the place or like he used to.
âNice to see you too,â he says with a casual smile, like your heart hadnât once split open over the silence he left you in.
You drop your duffel a little too hard on the floor, the thud echoing in the apartment. âHow the hell did you get in here?â
âI still had the code,â he says simply, lifting his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. âYou never changed it.â
You blink, stunned. The audacity of this man. âSo you thought that was an invitation? Jungkook, are you insane?â
Jungkook shrugs, setting the glass down like this is a conversation heâs had a hundred times in his head and always won. âNo. I thought it meant there was still a chance.â
His voice is soft, but firm. Honest in that maddening, Jungkook way that used to make you feel like the whole world stopped when he looked at you like that. Like this.
You cross your arms, jaw clenched so tight itâs a miracle your teeth havenât cracked. âYou ghosted me, Jungkook. You disappeared without a word after everything weââ
âI didnât ghost you.â He steps closer, cautiously, like youâre a frightened animal he doesnât want to spook. âIâll admit I lagged a bit and freaked out but ghosting wasnât my intention.â
âSame difference whether it was intentional or not.â
That shuts him up.
For a moment, the silence is heavier than your suitcase. He stares at you, something flickering in his eyes guilt, maybe, or regret. Maybe even love, but youâre not stupid enough to let that sway you. Not again.
âI didnât know how to say what I wanted without screwing everything up,â he finally says. âBut I see now that going quiet just did that anyway.â
You scoff. âTook you two months and a break in to figure that out?â
âI didnât break in,â he mutters, almost pouting. âAnd I called and texted you multiple times before and once I got discharged. You just never answered.â
Your heart lurches because you did get the calls and the texts and you never responded because you were hurt.
You hadnât known what to do with them. Didnât want to know if they were full of promises or apologies or some convoluted explanation that would only reopen wounds youâd spent the past two months learning how to live with.
âWhy are you really here?â you ask, quieter now. âWhat do you want from me?â
He looks at you then, not past you, not through you, but at you. Like youâre still the person he used to call at 2 a.m. just to hear your voice. Like he still knows you.
âI want a second chance,â Jungkook says. âNo situationship, let me be your boyfriend.â
You stare at him like heâd grown another head because that isnât what you expected to hear.
You laugh sharp and disbelieving. âBoyfriend? Now you want to be my boyfriend?â
Jungkook doesnât flinch. âYes.â
âAfter two months of silence and one rogue visit to my apartment?â You shake your head, pressing your palms into your temples. âYou seriously think thatâs how this works?â
âNo,â he says quietly. âBut Iâm hoping youâll let me try anyway.â
The room is still. The air feels heavier now, the kind of weight thatâs not just emotional but lived-inâlike the ghost of your shared past decided to sit on your couch and watch this all play out. You look at him again, really look at him, and itâs both painfully familiar and impossibly foreign.
His hair is a little longer than before. Heâs filled out a little, posture more grounded, more deliberate. But itâs his eyesâstill soft, still maddeningly earnestâthat threaten to undo the carefully stacked bricks youâve built around your heart.
âYou donât get to just show up here like no time has passed and pick up where we left off.â
âI know,â he nods, stepping closer again, slow enough to let you stop him if you want. âAnd Iâm not asking you to forget what happened. Iâm asking you to give me a chance to show you that I mean it this time.â
You fold your arms tighter around yourself. âAnd what exactly changed that makes this time different?â
âI did,â he says. âThe military gave me a lot of time to think and for the first time in my life, I stopped running from things that scared me.â
âAnd I was one of those things?â you ask, voice low.
âYou were everything,â he says simply. âAnd that terrified me.â
The silence stretches again, this time not sharp, but uncertain.
You should kick him out. You want to kick him out. But instead, you say, âYouâve got five minutes to explain everything. No bullshit. No vague excuses.â
Jungkook straightens, hopeful, like five minutes is more time than he thought heâd get. âDeal.â
And for some reason, despite every hurt, despite the voice in your head screaming at you to shut the door on him and never look backâyou sit down. Not because he deserves it yet but because maybe, just maybe,you want to believe he could.
âYou better not make me regret this Jeon.â
âI wonât, promise.â He says as you leave your bags in the hallway and move towards your living room.
âFirst things first, howâd you know to be here at this exact time?â You question.
âGyu told me you were coming back today and I calculated everything else on my own.â
âYouâre actually insane.â
âYou wouldnât answer my calls or texts, I got desperate okay?!â
âI tell you I like you and you ghost meâŠâyou pause for a moment.ââŠthen you break into my apartment like weâre in some shitty romcom,â you finish with a bitter laugh, collapsing onto the edge of your couch.
Jungkook follows, hovering by the armrest like heâs not sure if heâs allowed to sit yet. âI didnât break in,â he says again, more sheepishly this time. âAnd itâs not like I forgot what you said.â
âYou sure about that?â you snap. âBecause the night I told you how I felt, you looked me in the eyes, kissed me like it meant something and then disappeared.â
He winces. âI know. I know how bad that was.â
âDo you?â You glare at him. âBecause while you were off in the mountains or wherever, trying to âfind yourself,â I was here thinking Iâd made everything up in my head. That Iâd read too much into it. That I scared you off.â
âYou didnât scare me,â he says softly, finally sitting down. âYou made me realize how real it all was and yeah, maybe that did freak me out. But not because I didnât want it.â
âThen why leave me hanging?â
âBecause I didnât know how to handle someone who actually saw me. Who wanted me. Not just Jungkook the idol, not the guy everyone thinks they know. Me.â He swallows, looking down at his hands. âYou were the first person who made me feel like I could be that version of myself and still be loved.â
The room quiets again. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears.
He glances at you then, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. âI wasnât ready before. But I am now. And if you still want meââ
âYouâre lucky I even let you talk,â you interrupt, but your voice has lost its bite. âOne more vanishing act and I will change the code. And possibly throw a something at your head.â
âThatâs fair,â he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. âI deserve that.â
âYou deserve worse,â you mutter, and then softer, âbut maybeâŠwe can start over.â
His eyes brighten, like that one line is the sun cracking through storm clouds. âStart over,â he repeats, nodding. âI can work with that.â
You sigh, rubbing your temples again. âGod, I must be out of my damn mind.â
Jungkook grins. âBut you missed me.â
âShut up and get me a drink before I change my mind.â
âYes, maâam.â Heâs already up and heading to the kitchen.
And just like that, the door youâd sworn to keep closed,cracks open, just a little.
That was three weeks ago and now itâs like that two month period of silence between you had never really happened. Jungkook had been doing everything he could to make it up to you and youâd be lying if you said it wasnât working or that you werenât developing even bigger heart eyes for him than you already have, which brings you to now.
Youâd seen Jungkook shirtless numerous times throughout the years youâve known each other but itâs the first time youâre seeing it since his discharge and you wonder if heâs trying to send you crazy.
He called you over earlier insisting on a movie night, he ordered all the food and bought snacks and was fresh out of the shower when you arrived. What you didnât expect was the new ink that spanned almost across his chest from the previous one or the new ink on his once bare left arm.
Youâre staring as you sit on the edge of his bed and if he notices then he says nothing, at least, not at first.
Jungkook hums to himself as he rifles through his drawers for a shirt, towel slung low around his hips, completely unbothered by the fact that he looks like a walking thirst trap. Your eyes flick from the still-damp curls clinging to his forehead to the ink blooming across his chest, bold and black and unfairly sexy, and then lowerâto the newer piece coiled along his left arm, delicate lines and sharp edges, intricate enough to make you forget how to breathe for a second.
You donât realize how long youâve been staring until he turns around, shirt finally in hand, and catches your expression.
His lips twitch. âYou good over there?â
You blink, looking up like youâd been snapped out of a tranceâwhich, in a way, you had.
âUhâŠyeah. Yeah, Iâm fine,â you say, voice a little higher than usual. You clear your throat and try again. âYou got more tattoos.â
He grins then, cocky and sweet, tossing the shirt on the bed beside you instead of putting it on. âNoticed, huh?â
âKind of hard not to when youâre standing there like a Calvin Klein ad.â
He laughs, and god, you really wish heâd stop doing that because now youâre not just thinking about the tattoos.Youâre thinking about tracing them, about how warm he probably still is from the shower, about how close he is and how unfair it is that he looks this good and knows what to do with it.
âCome closer if you want a better look,â he says, teasing, like he hadnât just weaponized his body against your willpower.
You roll your eyes, but your legs move before your pride can stop them. You stand, stepping into his space slowly, gaze trailing over the ink as if it might tell you something he hasnât said yet.
âThis oneâs new,â you murmur, lightly brushing your fingers near the chest pieceânear, not on, because youâre not sure youâd recover if you actually touched him right now.
âFinished it last week,â he says, voice softer now. âDidnât want to show you until it healed properly.â
You glance up at him then, eyes meeting his, and for a second the air feels thick between you. Not tense,just charged.
âLooks good on you,â you say, because itâs the truth. âYou always pull them off.â
âI was hoping youâd like it,â he replies, gaze dropping to your mouth for the briefest second.
You should move. Say something smart. Tease him, maybe but all you manage is a quiet, âI do.â
Neither of you move away and then Jungkook speaks again, lower this time. âYou know⊠movie night can start a little late.â
And if you lean in after that, itâs definitely not just because of the tattoos. His towel hits the floor as both his hands find your waist walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed and heâs pushing you down onto it immediately crowding your space.
âMissed you,â he whispers against your lips, hands gripping your thighs and wrapping them around his hips as he presses closer.
You gasp against his mouth, fingers curling into his damp hair as he settles between your legs like he belongs there, because he does or at least, thatâs what it feels like in this moment; when every part of him is pressed to you like heâs trying to make up for every second he spent away.
âJungkookâŠâ you breathe, and itâs not a protest,it never was. Itâs a warning, maybe a plea or just the only thing you can manage to say with your heart thudding against your ribs like itâs trying to catch up to his.
âI know,â he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, the soft spot below your ear. âI know, baby. Iâll go slow.â
And he does, despite the urgency in the way his hands moveâpalming your waist, mapping your skin like heâs memorizing you all over again. His kisses trail down your throat and linger there, like heâs trying to make you feel safe and wanted in the same breath.
Your hips roll up instinctively, seeking more, and he groans low in his chest like the sound is pulled straight from the pit of his stomach. One of his hands grips your thigh tighter, the other slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing over the bare skin of your stomach.
âYou drive me crazy, you know that?â he mutters against your collarbone. âThree weeks of pretending I wasnât dying to touch you like this,longer than that, really.â
You tangle your fingers into the back of his neck, dragging him back up to kiss you again, slower and deeper this time. He hums into it, hips grinding down once, and you both break the kiss with matching, shaky breaths.
âTell me if you want to stop,â he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.
âI donât,â you whisper back, and thatâs all he needs because this time, when he kisses you, itâs not just want but a promise.One that says heâs here now and that he plans to stay.
He grips the hem of your t-shirt and you lift your arms for him to pull it up and over your head, you think heâs going for your bra next but his eyes are locked on your right shoulder.
âKook, whatâre youââ
âThatâs newâŠâ he mumbles and youâre about to ask what heâs talking about when you remember the branch of sakura blossoms youâd gotten done the second week after you hadnât heard from him.
Your breath catches, and not just because heâs half-naked and straddling you, but because of the way his fingers reach outâslow, reverentâand lightly trace over the ink on your shoulder like itâs sacred.
He doesnât say anything for a beat, just follows the curve of the branch, the blossoms that trail over your skin. His thumb brushes the edge of one petal, and itâs so gentle it nearly makes you shiver.
âYou got this while I was gone,â he says quietly, not a question but like he already knows.
You swallow, heart suddenly louder than it was a minute ago. âSecond week after you stopped calling.â
His eyes flick to yours, guilt heavy in his expression, but also something elseâcuriosity, awe, maybe a bit of sadness.
âWhy sakura?â he asks, voice low.
You shrug a little, feeling strangely vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. âTheyâre short-lived. Beautiful, but fleeting.â
Something flashes across his face then, like your answer stung a little, like it cut deeper than you intended as his hand cups your shoulder, thumb still brushing over the blossoms.
âI hate that I gave you a reason to pick that,â he murmurs.
You look up at him, chest tight. âI didnât do it to spite you, Jungkook. I did it because I needed to remember that something beautiful could still come out of something that hurt.â
He nods slowly, lips pressed together like heâs chewing on every word.
âI want to be something that lasts,â he says suddenly, and itâs so earnest you nearly forget how to breathe.
You search his face, your voice softer now. âThat why you didnât put the shirt on? Wanted me to see your ink and think the same thing?â
He smirks, a little bashful now. âMaybe. Figured if weâre starting over, you should see whatâs changed.â
You smile then, brushing a thumb over the new lines on his arm. âGuess we both changed.â
His gaze lingers on yours. âYeah. But Iâm still yours, if you want me.â
Your heart does that stupid flutter thing again, but this time you let it. Because the sakura on your shoulder mightâve been born from pain but right now, with his hands on your skin and that look in his eyes, you feel something blooming again.
âYâknow they also mean new beginnings right? They bloom in the spring when life is being given to the earth again.â
Jungkookâs eyes soften as he takes that in, thumb still grazing the edge of one blossom like it means something sacred. Maybe it does now.
âYeah?â he says quietly, gaze flicking from your shoulder to your face. âI didnât know that.â
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. âIt felt fitting. I was trying to remind myself that something good could still come out of everythingâeven if it looked different than what I imagined.â
He leans in then, pressing a kiss to your shoulder just beneath the flowers, lingering there like heâs trying to apologize through touch alone.
âI want to be part of that new beginning,â he murmurs against your skin. âIf youâll let me.â
You tilt his chin up, looking him dead in the eye. âThat depends.â
âOn what?â
âIf youâre gonna disappear again the second things get scary.â
He doesnât even hesitate. âI wonât. Iâve already been through losing you once,donât need a second reminder.â
His fingers slide up your ribs, warm and grounding. You sigh, leaning into him, the weight of everything that came before slowly peeling off in layers.
âOkay,â you whisper. âNew beginning.â
A grin spreads across his face, soft and just a little smug. âNew beginning,â he echoes, pressing his forehead to yours. âAnd this time, Iâm not going anywhere.â
Outside, the wind rattles the window just enough to remind you itâs still summer but on your shoulder, springâs already started again.
âIs it weird that it doesnât feel like weâve been apart?â You ask, heâs still between your legs, lips trailing kisses across the ink and up the side of your neck
âI donât think so, weâve always been in sync since we met. I donât think any amount of time apart can undo that, at least for me anyways.â
His voice is warm against your skin, roughened slightly from emotion and the low, lazy rhythm of his kisses. You shiver as his lips reach the space just beneath your ear again, that spot he always seemed to remember without being told.
You smile, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. âI thought I imagined that,â you murmur. âLike maybe it was just one-sided. I felt everything too much and you didnât feel it at all.â
Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes searching your face like heâs trying to memorize every piece of it. âNo,â he says, firmly. âYou didnât imagine a damn thing.â
Your breath hitches.
âI felt it from the beginning,â he continues, voice quieter now, almost like a confession. âI just⊠just didnât know how to handle it. You werenât something casual for me. Never were.â
You study him, the vulnerability in his expression, the way heâs holding you like heâs afraid if he lets go, youâll vanish. And maybe itâs a little crazy how easily things have fallen back into place, how his touch still feels like a home you never stopped missing but itâs not scary. Not anymore.
âYouâre still a dumbass for leaving without saying anything,â you say, though thereâs no heat in your voice.
He nods, solemn. âBiggest mistake of my life.â
âAnd showing up in my apartment like that?â
âNow that, I donât regret.â
You laugh softly, shaking your head. âIdiot.â
âYour idiot,â he says with a smirk, leaning down to kiss you again and this time, itâs unhurried, full of something deep and certain.
You let yourself melt into it, arms around his shoulders, legs still curled around his hips. It doesnât feel like starting over, not really. It feels like picking up a book you loved and finding you still remember all the words by heart.
And if your tattoo means new beginnings, maybe this oneâthis version of you and himâis finally the one that sticks.
âYou knew what you were doing coming over here in this skirtâ he mumbles.
âYou told me not to go home after I met with the girls. Itâs not like you gave me a choice to go home and shower.â
Jungkook chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as his fingers skim the hem of your skirt, bunching it slightly. âYou say that like Iâm complaining.â
You arch a brow at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. âYou kind of are, accusing me of seduction when I was just following orders.â
He leans in, lips brushing your jawline. âDonât play innocent. You knew what that skirt would do to me.â
You laugh, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear again. âItâs not my fault youâve developed a thing for short skirts and oversized shirts.â
âOh no, thatâs your fault entirely,â he groans, sliding a hand beneath the fabric now, palm warm against your thigh. âYou wore this knowing damn well I havenât seen you since Monday.â
âAnd you couldâve waited until after the movie,â you say, voice thinner now, more breath than words.
âWhy would I do that,â he murmurs, âwhen you walked in smelling like warm vanilla and trouble, legs out like you wanted me to lose my mind?â
You gasp as his hand grazes higher. âKookâŠâ
He kisses you again, hot and full of intent. âYou came over here like a walking fantasy and expected me to behave? Thatâs cute.â
You grin against his mouth. âI am cute.â
âYouâre unfair,â he counters, finally lifting your skirt all the way and settling back between your legs like heâs found his favorite place in the world. âAnd mine.â
You donât argue because you know heâs right and you want to be his problem. Again and again.
Your back arches slightly as his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider with an ease that sends a pulse straight through your core. Thereâs something in the way he looks at youâlike heâs starving, like youâre the only thing heâs ever really wantedâand youâd be lying if you said it didnât make you ache.
âYou keep looking at me like that,â you murmur, fingers threading into the strands of his hair, âand weâre not making it through even ten minutes of this so-called movie night.â
Jungkook laughs softly against your skin, but itâs low and rough, like his restraint is hanging by a thread. âSweetheart, the second you walked through that door, movie night was already canceled.â
His lips find yours again, this time more desperate, more demanding. Like heâs making up for every single day he had to pretend he was okay not touching you like this. You match his pace, hands roaming his back, nails grazing skin and muscle like muscle memory and in a way, it is.
Itâs familiar and electric all at once.
You break the kiss just enough to whisper, breathless, âYou always this greedy when you miss me?â
He grins, pupils blown wide. âOnly when you show up in my bed like a dream Iâm scared Iâm about to wake up from.â
You reach up, thumb tracing his bottom lip. âThen you better hold on, Jeon.â
His grin fades into something more serious thenâsomething full of want and reverence and a little bit of awe.
âAlready am,â he says, and when he kisses you this time, itâs deeper. Slower. Like heâs not just trying to have you but like heâs trying to keep you.
He presses down on you, his hard length pressing against the shorts you wore under your skirt to avoid flashing anyone in public and you moan into his mouth.
âTease,â you mumble.
Jungkook chuckles against your lips, the sound rich and smug, like heâs thriving off the way your body reacts to hisâoff the way your thighs tighten around his waist, the way your hands clutch at his back like you need something to ground you.
âMe?â he breathes, nipping gently at your bottom lip. âYouâre the one who showed up in a skirt that short and booty shorts this tight acting like I wasnât gonna lose my mind.â
You huff a laugh, gasping again when he rolls his hips, grinding into the pressure point he knows drives you crazy. âI wore them so I wouldnât flash strangers, not to make you feral.â
âWell,â he grins, dragging his mouth down to your neck again, âyou accomplished both.â
You arch into him, toes curling as his hand sneaks under the band of your shorts, fingers skimming along skin thatâs suddenly way too hot. âYou really have no self-control, huh?â
âNot when it comes to you,â he murmurs, kissing just beneath your jaw, voice rough with want. âNot when youâre laid out under me like this,already moaning, already mine.â
Your breath hitches at that, the heat in your belly twisting tighter. âYou keep saying that.â
He lifts his head, eyes dark and focused entirely on you. âBecause itâs true.â
And when he kisses you again, slow but devastating, you realize you donât want him to stop saying it.
Because with the way youâre wrapped around himâhow your body fits against his like it was made for thisâyouâre his and heâs very much yours.
âTake it off,â you say as you reach behind you and easily unhook your bra and toss it somewhere on his bed.
Now, Jungkook would usually consider himself an ass man but when it came to you he suddenly became an everything man and your boobs were his favorite pillows and stress balls of all time.
Jungkook lets out a low, reverent groan the second your bra hits the bed, his eyes dropping like gravityâs got a hold on him and all he can do is follow.
âFuck,â he mutters, almost to himself, palms immediately finding their way to your chest like muscle memory. He squeezes gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and the smirk that curls onto his face is downright sinful when he hears the way you gasp.
âYou do this on purpose,â he says, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses across the tops of your breasts. âWear this little outfit⊠toss that bra like youâre not trying to kill me.â
âI was just trying to get comfortable,â you lie, breathless, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh against your skin.
âComfortable?â He closes his mouth around one nipple, sucking just hard enough to pull another moan from you. âBaby, this is the opposite of comfort. This is suffering. Beautiful, slow, brain-melting suffering.â
Your back arches into his touch, hands threading back into his hair again as his mouth works you over like heâs found religion in the curve of your body.
âNot my fault your self-controlâs hanging by a thread,â you murmur, but your voice is uneven now, every word laced with the kind of heat that matches the way heâs touching you like he canât decide between worship and ruin.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips slick and eyes wild.
âOh, it snapped the second you walked in,â he says, voice low and wrecked. âand youâre gonna pay for that.â
You grin, breathless and drunk on the way heâs looking at you. âThen shut up and collect your debt, Jeon.â
His mouth crashes into yours again, hot and greedy.And this time? Thereâs no teasing left,only intent.
Your shorts and underwear disappear next but he leaves your skirt on as he pushes you further up the bed and settles on his stomach. He wraps both of his arms around your waist and pulls you down until your exposed heat is right in front of his face.
Both of your legs are tossed over each of his shoulders as his head disappears beneath the pleats of your skirt.His breath fans hot against your center before he even touches you, and the anticipation alone has you clenching around nothing, your fingers twisting into the sheets above your head.
âFuckâŠâ he groans, more to himself than to you, like heâs witnessing something divine.
Your skirt drapes over his head like a veil, and for a moment itâs almost comicalâalmostâuntil his tongue makes its first slow, deliberate pass through your folds and you forget how to breathe.
Your hips jerk, a whimper escaping your lips, and Jungkook just tightens his grip around your waist, locking you in place like he knew youâd try to run.
âStay still,â he mumbles under your skirt, voice muffled and wrecked with want. âLemme taste you properly.â
And taste you he does.
Heâs relentless, tongue lapping at you with a hunger that borders on obsessive like heâs been dreaming about this every night since the last time and now heâs making up for lost time. The soft drag of his tongue, the way he teases your clit with slow, purposeful flicks before switching to the kind of pressure that makes your back arch off the bed tells you that he knows exactly what heâs doing.
Your thighs tremble on either side of his head, the grip you have on the sheets now white-knuckled, and all you can do is moan his name over and over like a prayer.
âGod, Jungkookââ
He hums, clearly pleased, the vibration shooting straight through you.
You swear he smiles before he dives in deeper, tongue fucking you with such focus and ferocity itâs criminal. Every stroke, every soundâyour skirt still hiding the sight of him but somehow making it worseâhas you spiraling fast.
âYouâre-fuck-youâre obsessed,â you gasp, legs shaking.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, his voice low and wrecked. âWith this? With you? Baby, Iâve been starving.â
He buries himself in you again, and this time, he doesnât stop. Not until youâre crying out his name, body shaking, pleasure crashing over you in wave after relentless wave.
Jungkook doesnât come up for air until youâre completely undone.
âFuck, KooâŠbaby I canât. N-no moreâ you whine thighs shaking and threatening to close around his head.
âOne more baby, just one more and Iâll fuck you. Promise.â
He groans like the sound of your voice alone could get him off, his grip around your waist tightening as he drags you impossibly closer, locking you in place like you belong to himâwhich, in this moment, you absolutely do.
âYou can,â Jungkook says when you repeat that you canât, voice thick with lust and unrelenting focus. âYouâre doing so fucking good for me, just give me one more. Just one.â
Youâre not sure if itâs the way he praises youâlow and sweet and filthy all at onceâor the way his tongue swirls over your clit like heâs got something to prove, but your body doesnât listen to your mouth.
Your thighs tremble around his head as another whimper slips from your lips, your fingers tangled in the bedsheets like youâre holding on for dear life. âKook-fuck, I-!â
He hums, lips closing around your clit and sucking gentlyâjust enough to tip you over the edge again.
Your body convulses as you squirt,the orgasm ripping through you so fast and intense it leaves you gasping, eyes squeezed shut as your hips buck up against his face on pure instinct.
Jungkook holds you steady through it, eating you through your high like a man possessed, like he needs it, needs you, more than air.
Only once your body finally slumps into the bedâwrecked and twitching and breathlessâdoes he emerge from beneath your skirt, lips shiny, face and chest dripping in you; eyes blown wide, pupils dark with something primal.
âFuck, look at you,â he murmurs, crawling up over you, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your chest like heâs trying to soothe the very fire he started. âYouâre unreal.â
You blink up at him, lips parted, chest heaving, voice a broken whisper. âYou said youâd fuck me after thatâŠâ
He smirks,dark, slow, and unbearably smug. âAnd I always keep my promises, baby.â
Then heâs reaching for your skirt, and you already know that youâre not making it through the night in one piece.
Jungkook tosses the skirt somewhere behind him without looking, too focused on you, on the way your body is still trembling beneath him, on the way your chest rises and falls like youâve just been through something life-altering. And in a way, you have.
He leans down and kisses you, slower this timeâsweet and reverent, like heâs trying to let you catch your breath before he takes it again.
âStill with me?â he murmurs against your lips, his voice all husk and honey.
You nod, dazed, fingers reaching up to frame his face, brushing damp strands of hair off his forehead. âBarely.â
His grin is pure trouble. âGood. I want you like this. Wrecked and soft and only thinking about me.â
You roll your eyes, weakly. âCocky much?â
âConfident,â he corrects, reaching down between your bodies. And then finally, you feel the thick press of him against your slick folds, and your eyes flutter closed, a soft gasp escaping you.
âGod, finally,â you breathe.
Jungkook groans, eyes locked on you like youâre the only thing that exists. âYouâre still so fucking wet,â he says, almost in awe. âGonna slide right in, baby. Gonna fuck you slow.â
He pushes in, inch by inch, and you swear you feel every second of itâyour body stretching to accommodate him, still pulsing from your last orgasm. Heâs big, he always is, but right now he feels like too much and just right all at once.
Your legs wrap around his waist, locking him in, and the moan that slips from your lips is more of a cry than anything else. âKoo-fuckkk-you feelâŠâ
He kisses your neck, your cheek, your temple, anchoring you to the bed as he starts to move, slow and deep, hips rolling like heâs savoring every thrust. âI know, baby. I know. Just let go, I got you.â
And you do,you let yourself feel it all, the burn, the stretch, the ache and the bliss. The way his body fits against yours, inside yours, like he was made to be here.
Jungkook moans into your neck, pace picking up just slightly, voice low and desperate. âYou donât even know what you do to me. I missed this. Missed you.â
You hold him tighter, fingernails digging into his back, voice breaking as your pleasure builds again, unbelievably fast.
âThen donât let go,â you whisper, kissing him like itâs a promise.
He doesnât plan to. Not that night or ever again.
âMoreâŠplease baby. Harder.â you whine as he lifts your legs higher on his hips as he drives into you. This feeling was something you couldnât recreate with your vibrator or other toys no matter how many nights you tried. Jungkook had completely rearranged your system to his liking and god did you miss it.
Jungkook groansâdeep and raggedâat the sound of your voice, at the way you beg for him like heâs the only thing that can make you feel this good. And honestly? He is,he knows it and so do you.
âYeah?â he pants, tightening his grip beneath your knees as he shifts forward, hitting deeper, harder just like you asked. âThat what you need, baby? Me splitting you open like this?â
You cry out, back arching as he pistons into you with a new, ruthless rhythm, the bed creaking beneath the force of it. âYes, JungkookâŠfuck, yes,just like that!â
Heâs wrecked, sweat dripping down his temples, jaw clenched as he watches your face contort in pleasure with every thrust. âYou tried to replace me, didnât you?â he mutters, voice low and breathless. âThought your little toys could do what I do?â
You whimper, too far gone to deny it.
âBe honest,â he growls, fucking into you harder, now leaning over you so youâre folded beneath him, your thighs pushed back near your chest. âDid they make you feel like this?â
You shake your head desperately, nails clawing down his back. âNoâŠnever,fuckâŠthey neverââ
âThatâs right.â His voice is pure grit, satisfaction and possession curling around every word. âBecause this pussy knows who it belongs to.â
You moan louder, words crumbling as your body trembles beneath him, every nerve ending lit on fire. The sounds are messy nowâyouâre messy now, reduced to nothing but sensation and need and the maddening rhythm of his body claiming yours.
âMissed this,â Jungkook grits out, eyes locked on the place where your bodies meet, where he disappears inside you over and over. âMissed the way you take me. Like you were fucking made for me.â
And maybe you wereâbecause no one else ever felt like this, no one else ever ruined you this sweetly.
You canât even form a warning before your climax crashes through youâhard and unforgivingâyour entire body seizing around him.
Jungkook groans loud and deep, barely holding himself together. âThatâs it, baby-fuck, I got you.â
He doesnât slow down. He chases his own high through your trembling, overstimulated bodyâlike youâre his favorite drug and heâs too far gone to stop now.
Because this isnât just sex, not with Jungkook. Itâs addiction, itâs ownership but most of all itâs home.
âWant it, baby, please.â he knows what youâre asking for and he knows heâll give it to you but not without teasing you a bit first.
Jungkook smirks through his labored breaths, hips still rolling deep and slow, like he hadnât just fucked you into oblivion. His eyes darken as he leans in, mouth brushing your ear.
âWant what, baby?â he murmurs, all sin and silk. âGotta be specific.â
You whine, back arching beneath him, trying to rock your hips up to meet his, but his grip on your thighs keeps you pinned. âYou know what I mean,â you gasp, voice wrecked. âDonât make me say it.â
He chuckles darkly, kissing your temple, then your cheek, lips trailing lower until they hover just above your mouth. âOh no, sweetheart,â he whispers, âyou donât get to beg like that and then get shy on me now.â
His next thrust is sharper, making your eyes roll back as another moan rips out of you. âSay it,â he growls. âTell me what you want.â
Your prideâs long gone, scattered somewhere between your second orgasm and the moment he told you this pussy was his, so you give him what he wants.
âWant you to come inside me,â you breathe, clutching at his back. âWant to feel it. Please, Jungkook, need it.â
He groans loud, like the words just short-circuited every nerve in his body.
âYou drive me crazy, you know that?â he growls, dropping his forehead to yours as his thrusts pick up again, fast and brutal now. âFuck, youâre gonna make me come so deepâŠâ
You tighten around him at the promise, moaning his name, and he damn near loses it on the spot.
âGod, yes, baby. fuckâŠtake it, take all of it,â he gasps, hips slamming into you with wild, desperate precision.
It only takes a few more thrusts before heâs spilling into you with a groan that sounds like your name broken apart, hips twitching as he rides it out, pressing as deep as he can go.
You feel everythingâevery pulse, every dropâand it sends aftershocks rolling through your body, making you gasp, legs still locked tight around him.He stays there for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, lips pressing soft, almost apologetic kisses to your collarbone, your jaw, your lips.
When he finally pulls back enough to look at you, his expression is soft, eyes dark but tender.
âFeel better now?â he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
You smile, completely wrecked, thoroughly claimed, and still somehow ready for more. âI told you I missed you.â
Jungkook grins, kissing you again. âBaby⊠youâre never going that long without me again.â
âYeah?â you ask. Smile on your face as you tighten your legs around him and use his distractedness to flip you both over.
Jungkook grunts in surprise, eyes going wide as his back hits the mattress and you settle on top of him, legs straddling his hips, looking like the prettiest mess heâs ever seen.
âFuck,â he breathes, hands instinctively flying to your thighs, gripping them like heâs afraid youâll disappear. His eyes rake over you, flushed, glowing, glistening with sweat and his release. âYeah⊠definitely missed this.â
You smirk, leaning down to brush your nose against his. âWant more,â you murmur, voice dripping with sugar and sin.
Jungkook groans, head falling back against the pillow as his fingers flex on your skin. âYouâre gonna kill me.â
âMaybe,â you whisper against his neck, kissing along the pulse hammering beneath his skin, âbut what a way to go.â
You rock your hips slowly, letting the full sensitivity of him still inside you hit both of you at once and his strangled moan tells you everything you need to know.
âYouâre so tight,â he hisses, fingers digging into your hips now, âstill gripping me like your pussy knows Iâm home.â
You hum, starting to ride him slow, deepâdeliberate. âYou said you wanted to stay inside me,â you whisper in his ear. âSo Iâm not letting you go yet.â
His whole body twitches beneath you, equal parts wrecked and obsessed. âYouâre gonna make me come again,â he warns, voice breaking. âYouâre insane.â
You tilt your head with a grin. âYou love it.â
âI do,â he admits, hips bucking up into you, chasing the rhythm youâve set. âGod, I do.â
âYeah?â you whisper, brushing your lips against his.
âYeah,â he breathes, kissing you like he means it. âand Iâm never letting you go again.â
You press your forehead to his, still moving on top of him, still trembling from the overstimulation and the heat between you.
âGood,â you whisper. ââŠcause Iâm not done with you yet.â
âFuck! Turn around for me baby,â
Jungkookâs voice is ragged, hoarse with desperation, dripping with the kind of hunger that makes your thighs tighten around him reflexively. His grip on your hips is vice-like now, holding you in place even as you try to grind down harder.
âTurn around for me,â he repeats, eyes locked on yours, nearly begging this time. âWanna see that ass bounce, baby. Wanna watch you fuckinâ take me.â
Your smirk is slow and wicked, and it only gets deeper when you lean in and murmur right into his ear, âDidnât even last five minutes on bottom.â
He groansâa beautiful, wrecked soundâas you pull back and slowly rise off of him, both of you gasping as you separate, just for a moment.
âShit,â he hisses, watching you like a man possessed as you turn around, hands braced on his thighs as you slowly sink back down on his length, facing away from him now.
âOh my god,â Jungkook chokes out, his hands immediately flying to your waist again, thumbs digging into the curves of your hips as he watches you take every inch.
âYou like that, baby?â you tease, rolling your hips with intention, slow and deep, milking every sound from him.
âI love it,â he moans, thrusting up into you now, meeting your movements with an intensity that makes you cry out. âYou feel fucking unreal.â
The sound of skin against skin fills the room now, lewd and loud, your breathless moans layered with his deep groans as your rhythm grows frantic.
âLook at you,â he pants, one hand sliding from your waist to your ass, gripping, guiding, loving every bounce. âThis pussy was made to ride me like this.â
Youâre trembling, both from overstimulation and the obscene stretch of him pounding into you from below, hitting every sweet spot like heâs got your entire body mapped out.
âIâmâŠfuck, Iâm close again,â you gasp, barely able to hold yourself up as your thighs start to shake.
Jungkook thrusts up even harder, his pace feral now, hands pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips. âThen come on, baby,â he growls. âGive it to me. Wanna feel you fall apart again.â
You do, with a cry so loud and raw it leaves you both breathless. Your body seizes, clenching down around him so hard he curses violently and spills into you again, gripping you like heâs drowning in you.
And maybe he is because when your bodies finally collapse into each other, panting, spent, still trembling with aftershocks, Jungkook presses his lips to your spine and whispersâŠ
âStill not done.â
He pulls you up onto your hands and knees pressing your back down to arch just the way he likes it and even though youâre tired you still find it in you to tease him by shaking your ass in his face. You both know whatâs coming once he has you in this position and those dancer hips of his goes to work.
Jungkook groans the second you give that little shake, hands flying to your hips like instinctâownershipâas he stares down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark with something primal.
âYouâre really gonna tease me right now?â he mutters, voice low and dangerous behind you. âAfter everything I just gave you?â
You laugh breathlessly, barely able to hold your weight on shaky arms, but the look you toss over your shoulder is pure sin. âThought you said you missed this.â
He growlsâactually growlsâand the next second heâs pressing a firm hand between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest into the mattress until your back arches deep, presenting him with his favorite view. The sight of you like thisâass up, legs trembling, slick and swollen and still dripping from everything heâs already doneânearly sends him over the edge again.
âStay just like that,â he grits out. âYou wanna act like a brat? Youâre gonna take all of it.â
And then heâs sliding back into you in one smooth, devastating thrust.
You cry out into the sheets, back arching even more as his hips slam into yours, that dancer rhythm kicking in immediately, precise, brutal, relentless.
Every stroke is deep, intentional, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls like an applause. Your nails claw at the sheets, your body rocking forward with each thrust, completely at his mercy.
âFuck, JungkookâŠbaby,youâre soââ
âLoud,â he pants, smirking even through his own wrecked moans. âYouâre so loud, baby. You want the whole building to know whoâs fucking you like this?â
You whimper, voice raw and ragged. âY-Yesâyes, let them hear it. I donât care.â
He groans at that, snapping his hips faster, one hand reaching around to toy with your clit while the other keeps your hips locked against him. âThatâs right,â he growls, breathing harsh against your spine. âLet them hear how good I make you feel. Let them know youâre mine.â
The pleasure is overwhelmingâwhite-hot and consumingâand youâre coming again before you can even warn him, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as your entire body clenches around him like a vice.
He stutters in his rhythm, cursing, and buries himself deep one last time, spilling inside you for the third time with a loud, broken moan of your name.
You both collapse, tangled and shaking, breathless and coated in sweat, your body molded into the sheets, his weight heavy on your back.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your shared breathingâuneven, wrecked.
And then Jungkook kisses the back of your neck and whispers with a hoarse little laugh, âStill not doneâŠâ
âI have a studio session tomorrow, you menace.â you laugh trying to pull away from him. You had already lost count of how many times he made you come for the night and you knew if he continued you wouldnât be sitting or walking right for the next few days.
Jungkook laughs against your shoulder, breath still hot on your skin, arms tightening around your waist as he keeps you locked beneath him. âAnd? Youâll sound better relaxed,â he mumbles, trailing kisses down your spine like heâs not the reason your legs feel like jelly.
You squirm weakly in his hold, whimpering when he grinds against your still-sensitive core, making your whole body twitch. âKooâŠplease,â you gasp, laughing through the overstimulation. âYouâre actually insane.â
He grins against your skin, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. âInsane for you. You started this, showing up looking like a walking wet dream.â
âYou told me not to go home first!â
âAnd you listened,â he chuckles darkly. âThatâs on you, baby.â
You try again to wiggle free, but heâs already rolling you onto your side, pulling you flush against him like you belong there, wrapped up in his arms, bare and exhausted, skin warm and sticky from every way heâs touched you.
âYouâre evil,â you murmur, eyes fluttering shut.
He kisses your temple, soft now. âYeah, but I make you come like no one else.â
You groan and shove at his chest with the strength of a wet noodle. âIf I show up to the studio tomorrow and canât hit a single note without thinking about your damn tongueââ
âThen Iâve done my job,â he says proudly, hugging you closer. âAnd youâll be thinking about me every time you sit down, too.â
You laugh, face buried in his chest now. âI hate you.â
âNah,â he says, voice low, hand stroking your back as your breathing starts to slow. âYou love me. Admit it.â
You pause, letting the silence stretch between you.
Then, just loud enough for him to hear,
ââŠMaybe.â
He grins like you just handed him the world. âThatâs all I needed.â
And as sleep starts to pull you underâsore, satisfied, and wrapped in his warmthâyou feel him pulling out of you and you groan clenching around him.
âShh, lemme clean you up baby. Maybe we should shower again and I need to change the sheets.â
You whimper at the sudden emptiness, your body twitching instinctively, oversensitive and greedy even after everything heâs given you tonight. âGod, youâre gonna be the death of me,â you mumble into his chest, clenching involuntarily around him.
Jungkook groans at the feeling, forehead dropping to your shoulder. âDonât do that,â he warns, voice hoarse. âYouâre already trying to suck me back in.â
You grin weakly. âMaybe I am evil.â
âYeah?â he mutters, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder blade. âThen we deserve each other.â
He sits up with a sigh, rubbing at his face before reaching for the towel he tossed earlier. You hear the rustle of fabric, the soft shuffle of him moving around the bed, and then his gentle hands parting your thighs as he crouches between them with that same care he didnât show while ruining you earlier.
âHold still, baby,â he murmurs, voice tender now. âJust cleaning you up.â
You flinch slightly at the first contact, hissing through your teeth. âStill so sensitiveâŠâ
âI know.â His tone is all softness now, soothing, the towel warm and damp as he carefully wipes you down. âYou took me so well tonight. So fucking good for me.â
Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, your heart blooming even as your body shudders through the afterglow.
He tosses the towel aside and leans over to kiss your belly, your hip, your thighâlittle tokens of apology and affectionâbefore crawling off the bed entirely.
âCâmon,â he says, voice playful but affectionate. âLetâs shower before I throw us both into clean sheets and ruin them all over again.â
You groan. âI wonât survive another round.â
âWeâll make it quick,â he smirks, reaching out to pull you up by the wrists, your limbs heavy and limp. âFive minutes.â
âYouâre a liar.â
âA hopeful liar,â he corrects with a wink.
Still, you let him guide you off the bed, legs wobbling just like he knew they would. He catches you with a proud little sound, arms wrapping around your waist like muscle memory.
You glance back at the bed, sheets tangled and ruined, evidence of every round and every promise kept.
âTomorrow,â you warn him as you stumble into the bathroom. âNo touching.â
âWeâll see,â he grins, turning the water on. âDepends on how cute you look when youâre singing off-key thinking about my tongue.â
You donât respond, not because you donât have a comeback, but because your knees almost buckle again.
He sees it, of course he does and he grins like heâs already won.
âFucking menace.â you mumble as he sits you on the toilet seat to handle your business and turns the water on for the tub instead of the shower.
âYou hate baths.â
Jungkook glances over his shoulder with a lazy, smug grin as he tests the water temperature with his hand. âYeah, I do,â he says, twisting the tap to the perfect warmth, steam already beginning to rise, âbut you love them. And you can barely stand right now, so guess what? Weâre compromising.â
You narrow your eyes at him, cheeks still flushed, legs still trembling from everything he put you through. âThatâs not a compromise. Thatâs you getting what you want while pretending itâs for me.â
He raises a brow, stepping closer and leaning down to rest his hands on either side of your thighs, trapping you there. âBaby,â he murmurs, eyes dark and sticky-sweet, âI already got what I want.â His fingers brush the inside of your knee, thumb teasing gently over the bruises blooming on your skin. âNow Iâm making sure you feel good. You deserve that too.â
Your sass falters for just a beat as warmth curls low in your stomach againâa different kind of warmth now, softer, more vulnerable than lust.
âDonât get all sweet on me now,â you grumble, but your voice has lost its bite.
He smirks, brushing his nose against yours before pulling away. âToo late.â
He checks the water again, then plugs the tub and starts gathering your favorite bath productsâthe ones he pretends not to care about but somehow knows the exact scents of. Vanilla, soft musk, a hint of rose. He even grabs that overpriced foaming oil you only splurge on when youâre feeling emotionally wrecked.
âYouâre a menace and a simp,â you say, watching him with a half-hearted pout as he pours the oil under the water.
He shrugs. âOnly for you.â
When the tub is full and the scent of warm vanilla fills the air, he turns to you, arms open. âCome here.â
You groan, muscles aching, but let him scoop you up anyway like itâs the easiest thing in the world. He eases you into the tub with a gentleness that contrasts wildly with how he had you earlier, and when he climbs in behind you and pulls you back against his chest, you melt.
âThis is illegal,â you mumble, sinking into the heat of the water, his arms wrapping around you, palms flat on your stomach.
âWhat is?â
âBeing good at sex and aftercare. Pick a struggle.â
Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. âNah. Iâm greedy. I want all your stars, not just one.â
You hum, eyelids heavy, body warm and floating. âYou already have âem.â
And the way his arms tighten around you, holding you just a little closer?
Yeah. He knows.
âYou coming to Jin-hyungâs concert this weekend?â He asks after a moment of silence.
âCanât, I leave for Japan on Saturday morning.â
Jungkook stills behind you for a moment, his arms pausing in their gentle strokes across your stomach.
âYou didnât tell me that,â he says softly, not accusing, just surprised, a slight shift in his voice that only someone who knows him would catch.
You tilt your head slightly, letting it rest back against his shoulder. âDidnât really come up, what with all theâŠwell,â you gesture vaguely to the war zone that is your shared exhaustion and the bath youâre currently soaking in.
He huffs a quiet laugh, but itâs tinged with something thoughtful. âWork trip?â
âMmhm,â you nod. âCouple meetings, studio sessions and an interview before I fly back.â
He presses a soft kiss to your temple. âWhen?â
âIâll be back Tuesday night.â
Another pause.
âYou want me to pick you up from the airport?â
Your chest warms. âYou donât have to, Kook.You get caught picking me up at the airport and both our asses are in deep shit. You donât need to be getting dragged on the internet for being seen with a girl much less me.â
You knew how people would spin it especially the media, given that you werenât full blooded Korean.
Jungkook exhales slowly, like heâs weighing his words before letting them go. His fingers trail lightly over your skin again, thoughtful, grounding. âFirst of all,â he says quietly, âIf itâs about you being a little bit older than me or not fully Korean,I donât give a shit. None of that mean anything to me, and it never did.â
You open your mouth to respond, but he keeps going.
âAnd secondâŠâ he pauses, then dips his head to kiss the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, lingering. âLet them talk. Let them spin it. Theyâve got no idea what this actually is. They donât see you taking care of me when Iâm burnt out. Or how you tell me the truth when everyone else just tells me what I want to hear.â
You go still at that, lips parting.
âThey donât see what I see,â he murmurs, voice low, tender, and just a little raw. âThey never will. And honestly? Iâm kind of done pretending that matters.â
Your chest tightens, throat catching on something you canât name.
âKookâŠâ
âIâm serious,â he says, shifting just enough so you can see the edge of his expression. His eyes are darker now, not with lust, but with clarity. âIâm not trying to plaster us across tabloids or post some grand reveal on Weverse. But I am saying I donât want to keep treating you like some secret I have to hide in dark rooms and back entrances.â
Your heart thuds loud in your chest.
âI want to pick you up from the airport,â he says simply, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âNot as Jungkook from BTS, but just as yourâŠyour man. If thatâs okay with you.â
You turn your head then, looking up at him. His cheeks are a little flushed, his jaw tense. But his eyes?
Completely open. No mask, no hesitation.
âIâd like that,â you whisper, voice smaller than usual.
He grins softly, a little relieved, a little smug. âYeah?â
You smile. âYeah.â
His arms wrap around you a little tighter, pulling you close again until thereâs no space left between your bodies, water sloshing gently around you.
âGood,â he whispers, nose nudging your hair. âBecause I wasnât asking.â
And just like thatâwrapped in warm water, tangled in each other, tangled in something so realâyou stop worrying about who might see.
Because between you and him,you know that the love is genuine.
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Had a dream I swapped bodies with Mingi on some freaky Friday type shit and dude didnât pick up my calls for a week because
1. he didnât know his own number by heart
2. âfirst time being a girl,kinda nervousâ lemme enjoy this
Yall I am unable to can because wtf was that shit đ I canât remember much else but good lord I just know that man was causing chaos and being a menace in my body like he didnât even question it just went with the flow
Summary: Itâs Hyunjinâs birthday but youâre stuck in Busan for your department seminar but where Anne hath a will,Anne Hathaway and Hyunjin will spend his birthday with his muse because whoâs gonna stop him?
Warnings:Certified loverboy/Munch!Hyunjin, uni student!hyunjin x TA grad student!f.reader, curve/plus size reader, Hyunjin still has some morally grey traits that you overlook because you lowkey love that shit and youâre just as much as a simp for him, thereâs some plot/fluff in there somewhere, smut! MDNI! ,you both are down horrendous and canât keep your hands off each other,may or may not be the honeymoon phase,birthday sex, Multiple sex scenes/rounds, unprotected sex, oral (m.&f.rec), Hyunjinâs back because yes, mirror sex but itâs on the ceiling and they didnât notice it the night before, unprotected sex, long-haired Hyunjin, Hyunjinâs visual waiting for her are the headers, nicknames: Hyune, baby,Simp(his), Muse(this is cannon), baby (hers), lots of text dialogue cause i can and i like it, as usual I might have missed something.
W.C: 11.5k
A/N: Part 2 to Pussy Fairy, Iâd recommend reading that first to understand Hyunjinâs morally gray behavior and their relationship but it can be read as a standalone. I know itâs a late post but school has started back and Iâve got so much going on this semester that I fell behind on the editing and posting. Happy belated birthday to the man that loves love. edited this running on fumes so if you see mistakes,forgive me.
The restaurant is too loud, too crowded, and youâve been nursing the same drink for the past hour trying to look engaged while your department head drones on about teaching methodologies. Your phone buzzes in your lap for the third time in ten minutes, and you risk a glance down.
Hyuneđ„đ„° : miss you đ
Hyune đ„đ„°: the bed is too big without youđ„șđ„ș
Hyune đ„đ„°: and cold. very cold. might die of hypothermia actually
Despite your exhaustion, you canât help but smile. You type back quickly under the table.
You: dramatic. itâs march, not december
Hyune đ„đ„°: irrelevant. i require your warmth for survival
Hyune đ„đ„°: it's a medical necessity
You: you survived 25 years without me
Hyune đ„đ„°: that was before i knew what i was missing
Hyune đ„đ„°: now I'm spoiled. ruined. a shell of my former self
Youâre trying very hard not to laugh out loud when Professor Kim calls for another round of soju. You suppress a groan. Itâs nearly 10 PM, youâve been at this seminar since 8 AM, and all you want is to get back to your hotel room, take a scalding shower, and video call your boyfriend. But the senior professors are still here, still drinking, and leaving before them would be a massive breach of department etiquette. So you paste on a smile and accept another glass, texting Hyunjin one-handed under the table.
You: still at dinner. prof kim just ordered another round
Hyune đ„đ„°: another one??? how are you still conscious
You: barely. running on fumes and spite at this point
Hyune đ„đ„°: my poor baby. wish i could rescue you
You: me too. i miss youđ„șđ
You: I'm sorry I'm not there for tomorrow
Thereâs a longer pause before his response comes through.
Hyune đ„đ„°: don't apologize. it's not your fault
Hyune đ„đ„°: besides Iâll be 26 whether youâre here or not. we can celebrate when you get back
You: still feels shitty. it's your first birthday as my boyfriend and I'm stuck in busan
Hyune đ„đ„°: first of many though right?
Your chest does something complicated at that. First of many. Like heâs already planning a future, already certain youâll be there for the next one, and the one after that.
You: right. first of many.
Hyune đ„đ„°: then don't worry about it. tell me about the seminar. learn anything interesting?
So you do, typing out summaries between shots of soju and forced laughter at your colleaguesâ jokes. You tell him about the morning panel on contemporary pedagogy, about how Professor Lee nearly started a fight over grading methodologies, about the terrible coffee at the conference center.
He responds to everything, asking questions, making jokes, keeping you entertained even though you know heâs probably bored out of his mind but thatâs Hyunjin; he always makes you feel like whatever youâre saying is the most interesting thing in the world.
You: okay prof kim is definitely drunk now. heâs singing.
Hyune đ„đ„°: SINGING???
Hyune đ„đ„°: please tell me youâre recording this
You: absolutely not. i value my assistantship
Hyune đ„đ„°: coward
You: practical
Hyune đ„đ„°: tomato tomahto
Another round of food appearsâthis time itâs grilled fish and more banchan than your table has room for. You take a picture and send it to him.
You: at this rate im going to roll back to seoul
Hyune đ„đ„°: good. more of you to hold
Hyune đ„đ„°: more of you to worship
Hyune đ„đ„°: speaking of whichâŠwhat are you wearing? đđđ«Š
You: hyunjin.
Hyune đ„đ„°: what? Iâm just asking
Hyune đ„đ„°: for academic purposes
You: academic purposes???
Hyune đ„đ„°: iâm conducting research on what i want to take off you when you get home
You nearly choke on your drink. Your face heats up as you glance around to make sure no oneâs looking at your phone.
You: youâre terrible
Hyune đ„đ„°: you love it
Hyune đ„đ„°: but seriously. black dress? the one with the buttons that you sent me this morning?
You:âŠyes
Hyune đ„đ„°: fuck. Thatâs my favorite.
Hyune đ„đ„°: been thinking about it all day actually. about unbuttoning it slowly. kissing every inch of skin i reveal.
You: hyunjin we are in PUBLIC
Hyune đ„đ„°: youâre in public. Iâm alone in bed. wishing you were here.
Hyune đ„đ„°: wishing i could put my hands on you. my mouth on you.
Hyune đ„đ„°: been two days and i already miss how you taste
Your thighs press together involuntarily. You take a long sip of water, trying to cool down.
You: youâre not playing fair
Hyune đ„đ„°: allâs fair in love and sexting
Hyune đ„đ„°: besides you started it by sending me that photo this morning
You: that was just my outfit!
Hyune đ„đ„°: yeah, and you looked hot as fuck in it
Hyune đ„đ„°: do you know how hard it was to not immediately book a train ticket to busan?
You: itâs a 3-hour train ride
Hyune đ„đ„°: exactly. showed incredible restraint.
Hyune đ„đ„°: felix said i should be proud
You: you told felix?
Hyune đ„đ„°: i tell felix everything
Hyune đ„đ„°: heâs deeply invested in our relationship
Hyune đ„đ„°: also slightly concerned about my mental health
You: why?
Hyune đ„đ„°: because i might have walked past your apartment building three times today
You: HYUNJIN
Hyune đ„đ„°: WHAT
Hyune đ„đ„°: i missed you!
Hyune đ„đ„°: sue me for being in love!
You smile despite yourself, warmth flooding your chest. Two months in and he still makes you feel like a teenager with a crush.
You: i really do miss you
Hyune đ„đ„°: miss you too baby
Hyune đ„đ„°: two more days though and then youâre all mine
You: all yours
Hyune đ„đ„°: damn right
Hyune đ„đ„°: gonna spend the whole week in bed with you
Hyune đ„đ„°: well. in bed. on the couch. against the wall. in the shower.
Hyune đ„đ„°: basically, anywhere i can get my hands on you
You: insatiable
Hyune đ„đ„°: only for you
Professor Kim stands up suddenly, declaring that they should move to another restaurant for round two. You suppress a groan. Itâs already past 11:00, and round two could easily stretch past midnight.
You: theyâre talking about a second location
Hyune đ„đ„°: nooooo
Hyune đ„đ„°: tell them you have explosive diarrhea
You: HYUNJIN
Hyune đ„đ„°: what? its foolproof. no one questions explosive diarrhea
You: I'm not telling my professors i have explosive diarrhea
Hyune đ„đ„°: your loss. it's a great excuse
Thankfully, some of the junior professors manage to convince Professor Kim that they should call it a night. You could kiss them. The group starts to disperse, people calling taxis and saying their goodbyes. You gather your things, pulling on your coat and checking your phone.
You: finally freed. heading back to hotel
Hyune đ„đ„°: thank god. thought iâd have to actually take the ktx down there and rescue you
You: my hero
Hyune đ„đ„°: always
Hyune đ„đ„°: text me when you get back safe okay?
You: will do. love you
Hyune đ„đ„°: love you more
You step out into the cool March night, pulling your coat tighter. The restaurant is in a busy area, full of other groups spilling out of bars and restaurants, couples walking hand in hand. The sight makes you ache for Hyunjin; for his hand in yours, his arm around your shoulders, his warmth against your side. A few of your colleagues are lingering outside, smoking and chatting. You bow politely, making small talk about tomorrowâs schedule while checking your phone to call a taxi.
âAnd here I thought youâd spot me as soon as you stepped outside,â
The voiceâhis voiceâmakes you freeze. You look up so fast you nearly drop your phone. Hyunjin is leaning against a car parked just a bit away from where youâre standing, hands in his pockets, wearing that leather jacket you love and a grin that makes your heart skip. His hair is wind-tousled, longer than it was two months ago because youâd mentioned you liked it that way and heâd immediately stopped cutting it.
Even in the dim streetlight you can see the way his eyes light up when they meet yours, like youâre the only person on the entire street. For a second, you just stare. Your brain struggles to process what youâre seeing; your boyfriend, who should be in Seoul, standing on a street in Busan at nearly 11:30PM the night before his birthday.
âYah, whatâre you doing here?â you manage, legs carrying you toward him automatically. Your colleagues have gone quiet behind you, probably confused but you canât bring yourself to care. He pushes off the car and meets you halfway, immediately taking your handbag from your shoulder like he always does; like the weight of it personally offends him, like carrying your things is his sacred duty. His free hand finds your waist, pulling you close, and the familiar warmth of him, the solid reality of him actually being here, makes your throat tight.
âDid you really think Iâd spend my birthday without you?â he asks softly, tucking a loose curl behind your ear with such tenderness it makes your chest ache.
âWhat about the boys? Thought you guys had plans?â Your hands have found his jacket, clutching the leather like you need to hold on to prove heâs real.
âDid them yesterday,â he says easily, like itâs the most natural thing in the world to rearrange his entire birthday celebration. âFigured Iâd rather spend it with you instead of getting drunk with the guys. I think Busan makes for a good birthday getaway, no?â
âYouââ Youâre struggling to find words, emotion clogging your throat. âYou came all the way to Busan for your birthday, instead of celebrating in Seoul?â
âI came to Busan for you,â he corrects gently, and the way heâs looking at youâsoft and fond and completely certain, like youâre the answer to every question heâs ever hadâmakes your chest feel too tight. His thumb traces your cheekbone, catching on the curve of your face like heâs memorizing it all over again even though itâs only been two days. âThree hours on the KTX is nothing. Iâd have taken a train twice as long. Would have walked here if I had to.â
âHyunjinâŠâ Tears are pricking at your eyes and you donât even know why. Maybe itâs the exhaustion, maybe itâs the alcohol, or maybe itâs just the overwhelming realization that this boyâthis beautifully, ridiculous boyâtook the train to Busan on the night before his birthday just to be with you.
âHey, no crying,â he says, thumbs coming up to brush at your cheeks even though you havenât actually cried yet. âYouâre supposed to be happy Iâm here.â
âI am happy,â you insist, voice thick. âIâm so happy. I justâŠyou didnât have toââ
âI wanted to,â he interrupts. âI needed to. Do you have any idea how long two days felt? I walked past your apartment building so many times like a fucking creep because I missed you so much. Felix said I was being pathetic and you know what? I didnât even care, because I am pathetic when it comes to you.â
You let out a watery laugh. âYou really walked past my building?â
âMultiple times,â he admits, shameless. âWas gonna let myself in but then I thought, fuck it, why am I walking past her empty apartment when I could just get on a train and go where she actually is?â His hands cup your face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. âI donât want to spend my birthday without you, Muse. Donât want to spend any day without you if I can help it.â
You pull him into a kiss right there on the street, not caring that your colleagues are definitely watching, not caring about anything except the fact that heâs here, he took a train to be here, he rearranged his entire birthday because he wanted to be with you.
His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he kisses you back like heâs been starving for it. Like two days apart was two days too long. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, can feel the way his hand trembles slightly as it cradles the back of your head and you realize he was probably nervousâtaking the train all this way, not knowing if youâd be happy or overwhelmed or upset.
When you finally pull apart, heâs grinning. âMiss me?â
âSo much,â you admit, fingers tangling in his hair. Itâs gotten so long, falling into his eyes and you love it. Love that he grew it out just because you mentioned liking it once. âTwo days felt like forever.â
âI know. I was going crazy.â His thumb traces your cheekbone again, like he canât stop touching you now that youâre here. âCouldnât focus on anything. Failed a quiz because I kept thinking about you. Felix literally had to confiscate my phone at one point because I wouldnât stop checking to see if youâd texted.â
âYou failed a quiz?â
âNot an actual quiz,â he says immediately. âBut I would fail a hundred quizzes for you. Would fail the entire semester. Would drop out of school entirely.â
âPlease donât drop out of school or fail your classes.â
âOkay, but only because you asked nicely.â He grins, pressing his forehead to yours. âGod, I missed your face. Missed everything about you. The way you smell, the way you feel, the way you look at me like Iâm not completely insane for taking the KTX to Busan on a Thursday night.â
âYou are completely insane,â you point out, but youâre smiling.
âOnly for you,â he says and kisses you again.
Someone clears their throat behind you. You pull away to find Professor Kim watching with raised eyebrows, several of your colleagues poorly hiding smiles.
âAh, Professor Kim,â you say, bowing awkwardly while still in Hyunjinâs arms because he refuses to let you go. âThis isâthis is Hyunjin. My boyfriend.â
âI gathered,â Professor Kim says dryly but his eyes are kind. âTook the train all the way from Seoul?â
âYes, sir,â Hyunjin says politely, bowing as much as he can while keeping one arm firmly around your waist. âCouldnât miss the chance to spend my birthday with her.â
âYour birthday?â Professor Kimâs expression softens. âWell then. Happy birthday, young man. And take care of our teaching assistant, she works very hard.â
âI know, sir. I will.â Hyunjinâs arm tightens around you. âI promise.â
Professor Kim nods approvingly and heads to his taxi. Your other colleagues offer congratulations and birthday wishes before dispersing, leaving you alone with Hyunjin on the street.
âThey seem nice,â Hyunjin says.
âTheyâre drunk,â you counter. âWait until tomorrow when they remember their teaching assistantâs boyfriend crashed a department dinner.â
âDonât care.â He opens the door of the car heâd been waiting beside. âLet them remember. Let them know youâre taken.â
As you slide into the car, you just watch him, still half-convinced youâre hallucinating from exhaustion. He settles in the drivers seat, immediately lacing his fingers with yours.
âWhat do you wanna do first?â You ask.
âFirst we need to stop at your hotel,â Hyunjin says, asking for the address. âSo you can grab your things, then weâre going toââ he rattles off another address.
âWait, my hotel?â you ask. âI thoughtââ
âYouâre not staying in a room with your colleagues when Iâm here,â he says simply. âI booked us a place. Nice one, on the beach. Figured we could have a proper birthday celebration.â
âHyunjin, you canâtâthatâs too expensiveââ
âItâs my birthday,â he interrupts, locking his fingers with yours and bringing it to his lips. âIâll spend it how I want. And I want to spend it with you, in a nice hotel room, with a view of the ocean and a bed big enough for all the things Iâve been dying to do to you for the past two days.â
Your face heats.
âPlus,â Hyunjin continues, lowering his voice, âIâm staying the whole weekend. Booked a return ticket for Sunday. Figured we could explore Busan together before heading back to Seoul.â
âThe whole weekend?â Your heart stutters. âButââ
âObviously.â He looks at you like youâre being silly. âDid you think Iâd come all this way just to turn around and leave? No way. Iâm getting every possible second with you.â
The car pulls up to your hotelâa modest place near the conference centerâand Hyunjin insists on coming up with you. Your room is on the third floor, shared with two other junior professors who thankfully arenât there yet.
âThis is depressing,â Hyunjin says, looking around the cramped room with its twin beds and dated furniture.
âItâs fine for a work trip,â you defend, pulling out your bag.
âWell, youâre not staying here anymore.â He starts helping you pack, folding your clothes with surprising care. âNot when I got us a room with an actual view and a bathroom that doesnât look like itâs from 1995.â
âThe bathroom is not that oldââ
âMuse. Thereâs floral wallpaper.â
ââŠokay, fair.â
You pack quickly, leaving a note for your roommates and twenty minutes later, youâre back in the car. The hotel Hyunjin booked is beautiful; right on Haeundae Beach, modern and sleek, the kind of place youâd never book for yourself. The lobby is all marble and soft lighting and when you get to the room, you actually gasp.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the ocean, the city lights reflecting on the dark water. The bed is massive, covered in crisp white linens. Thereâs a sitting area with a plush couch, a desk and,
âIs that a balcony?â you ask, spotting the glass doors.
âPrivate balcony,â Hyunjin confirms, setting down your bags. âThought we could have breakfast out there tomorrow. Watch the sunrise if you want, though Iâm planning on keeping you in bed for as long as possible.â
He comes up behind you as you stare out at the view, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
âThis is too much,â you say softly, but youâre leaning back into him.
âNothingâs too much for you,â he says simply. âBesides, I wanted it to be special. Itâs not every day I turn 26 with the love of my life.â
You turn in his arms to stare at him. âLove of your life?â
He has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck. âIs thatâŠis that too much? Sorry, I canââ
âNo,â you interrupt, hands finding his face, making him look at you. âNo, itâs not too much. You just surprised me.â
âGood surprised or bad surprised?â
âGood,â you assure him. âReally good âcause youâre the love of my life too.â His expression transforms, surprise giving way to joy giving way to something tender and overwhelming. He kisses you like heâs trying to say everything he canât put into words, backing you toward that massive bed.
âWait,â you mumble against his lips. âI really do need a shower. Iâve been in these clothes all day and I probably smell like soju and cigarette smoke.â
âDonât care,â he says but his hands are already working at the buttons of your dress. âCould not possibly care less. You could smell like a dumpster, and Iâd still want to get my hands on you.â
âThatâs disgusting.â
âThatâs love, baby.â He gets the first button undone and presses a kiss to the newly revealed skin. âBut fine. Shower, Iâm joining you.â
âI was hoping you would,â you admit, pulling him toward the bathroom.
The bathroom is as impressive as the rest of the room; huge glass shower, separate soaking tub, heated floors and fluffy white towels that probably cost more than your monthly rent and you briefly wonder just how much money he makes for his commissioned works because he pays for almost everything. Hyunjinâs hands are gentle as he helps you out of your dress and your thoughts, reverent as he traces the lines of your body like heâs relearning geography heâs afraid of forgetting.
âMissed this,â he murmurs, palms sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. âMissed touching you. Missed being near you. Two days is too long.â
âAgreed,â you breathe, reaching for his shirt.
He helps you pull it off, then his jeans, until youâre both bare and stepping under the warm spray. For a moment you just stand there, holding each other, letting the water cascade over you both.
âThis is nice,â you mumble against his chest. âJust this.â
âYeah,â he agrees, hands stroking up and down your back. âJust this is perfect.â
But then his hands start to wanderânot urgently, just exploring. Reacquainting themselves with your body, mapping the curves and dips like heâs got all the time in the world.
âI really did miss you,â he says, fingers tracing your spine. âMissed how soft you are. How perfectly you fit against me.â His hands slide lower, cupping your ass, pulling you closer. âMissed this. All of this.â
âHyune,â you sigh, tilting your head back as his lips find your neck.
âWant to take care of you.â He whispers against your skin.
You let him, closing your eyes as his fingers work your body. Itâs intimate in a way that has nothing to do with sexâthis gentle care, this tenderness.
âWe should wash,â he murmurs but makes no move to actually do so.
âWe should,â you agree, but your hands are sliding down his chest, tracing the lines of his stomach.
His eyes open, dark and wanting. âMuseâŠâ
âWhat? Iâm just washing you,â you say innocently, hands dipping lower.
âThat is not washing,â he says, breath catching as your hand wraps around his cock.
âNo?â You stroke him slowly, watching his face. âMy mistake.â
âYouâre evil,â he groans, hips rocking into your touch. âBeautiful and perfect and evil.â
âYou love it,â you counter and then youâre sinking to your knees.
âFuck, baby, you donât have toââ But his hands are already in your hair and when you look up at him through wet lashes, his protest dies in his throat.
âI want to,â you say simply. âItâs your birthday. Let me make you feel good.â
âYou always make me feel good,â he says, but then youâre taking him in your mouth and he stops talking entirely, just moans your name like a prayer.
You take your time, using everything youâve learned about what he likes. The way he loves when you swirl your tongue just under the head, how he shudders when you take him deep, the sounds he makes when you hum around him.
âFuck, Muse, your mouth,â he gasps, fingers tightening in your hair. âSo good, baby, so fucking goodââ
You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and his hips stutter forward before he catches himself.
âSorry, sorry,â he pants. âJustâŠfuck, you feel so goodââ
You pull off with a wet sound. âDonât apologize. I like it when you lose control.â
âYeah?â His voice is wrecked. âLike when I fuck your mouth?â
âLove it,â you confirm and take him back in, giving him permission.
He groans, both hands in your hair now and starts to move. Slow at first, careful, but when you moan encouragement he loses itâfucking into your mouth with abandon while praising you constantly.
âSo good for me, so perfect, taking me so well,â His rhythm is getting erratic and you know heâs close. âGonna come, baby, fuck, gonnaââ
You double your efforts, wanting it, wanting him to fall apart for you, and he does; coming with a shout of your name, hips jerking as he spills down your throat. You swallow it all, working him through it until heâs trembling and oversensitive, then pull off and look up at him. Heâs looking down at you like you hung the moon.
âCome here,â he says roughly, pulling you up and into a kiss. He doesnât care that he can taste himself on your tongue, just kisses you like youâre everything. âYouâre too good to me.â
âImpossible,â you say against his lips. âYou took a three-hour train ride to see me.â
âAnd Iâd do it again,â he says immediately. âEvery day if you wanted me to.â He actually washes you then, gentle hands soaping your body, careful and thorough. Then you do the same for him, taking care with every inch of him and by the time youâre both clean youâre both aroused again.
âBed,â he says, turning off the water. âNeed you in that big bed.â
He wraps you in a plush hotel robe, ties it carefully, then puts on his own. Orders room serviceâall your favorite foods because of course he doesâand you eat while sitting on the bed, the ocean view spread out before you.
âI actually got you a present,â you admit, curling into his side. âItâs back in Seoul though. I was going to send you to my place to get it, but you decided to take a train ride to Busan.â
âDonât care. This is better.â He pulls you on top of him, hands sliding under your robe to find bare skin. His palms spread across your stomach, your hips, holding you like youâre precious. âHaving you here. Getting to touch you. Thatâs all I need.â
âStill,â you say, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. âYou deserve to be celebrated properly.â
âOh, I intend to be celebrated very thoroughly,â he says, grin wicked. His hands slide higher, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples. âStarting right now.â
He rolls you beneath him, settling between your thighs, and for a moment just looks at youâsprawled beneath him in the lamplight, hair still damp, lips swollen from kissing. âYouâre so fucking beautiful,â he says, voice rough with emotion. âSometimes I still canât believe youâre mine.â
âIâm yours,â you confirm, reaching up to cup his face. âAll yours, Hyune.â
âMine,â he repeats and then heâs kissing you, deep and slow, like heâs got all the time in the world and he does, you both do. The whole night stretched out ahead of you.
His mouth trails down your neck, your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. He pushes the robe aside, revealing your body to his gaze, and the way he looks at youâlike youâre art, like youâre everythingâmakes your breath catch.
âIâve been dying to get my hands on you,â he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your chest. âDying to taste you again.â
His mouth finds your breast, tongue circling your nipple before taking it between his teeth. You arch into him with a gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. âThatâs it,â he encourages, switching to the other breast. âLet me hear you, baby. No one here but us.â
His hand slides down your stomachâthat soft, gorgeous stomach he dreams about kissing, about resting his head onâand between your thighs. He groans when he finds you already wet. âFuck, youâre soaked. This all for me?â
âAlways for you,â you gasp as his fingers circle your clit.
âGood,â he says, and then heâs moving down your body, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Your ribs, your stomach, your hips. He spreads your thighs, settling between them, and just looks for a moment. âIâve been thinking about this for two days,â he says, breath hot against your inner thigh. âAbout loving on you. About getting my mouth on you again. About making you come on my tongue until you canât remember your own name.â
âHyune, please,â
âI know, baby. Iâve got you.â then his mouth is on you, and you forget how to think. He eats you out like a man starved, like two days without this was two days too long. His tongue is everywhere, circling your clit, dipping inside you, lapping at you like youâre the best thing heâs ever tasted.
âSo good,â he mumbles against you. âTaste so fucking good. Could spend hours between your thighs, you know that? Would live here if youâd let me.â
Youâre already embarrassingly close, two days of built-up tension and the reality of having him here, having his mouth on you, overwhelming your senses. âThatâs it,â he encourages, reading your body like a book. âCome for me, Muse. Want to taste it.â
He slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and you shatter, crying out his name, thighs trembling around his head. He works you through it, tongue gentle now, until youâre pushing at his head from oversensitivity. He kisses his way back up your body, and when he reaches your mouth, you can taste yourself on his tongue.
âNeed you,â you gasp, pulling at his robe. âNeed you inside me.â
âIâve got you,â he promises, shedding the robe. He lines himself up, and when he pushes insideâslow and deep and perfectâyou both moan. âMissed this,â he breathes, dropping his forehead to yours. âMissed you. Missed how perfect you feel around me.â
He starts to move, slow, deep thrusts that have you gasping. One hand laces with yours, pressing it into the pillow beside your head, while the other grips your hip, thumb stroking the soft skin there.
âI love you,â he says, punctuating each word with a thrust. âLove you so fucking much. Love everything about you. Gonna marry the fuck outta you someday.â
âLove you too,â you gasp lost in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist. âSo much, baby, so muchââ
He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in, and his rhythm picks upâstill deep but faster now, chasing pleasure for both of you. âTouch yourself,â he says against your skin. âWant to feel you come around me.â
You slide your hand between your bodies, finding your clit and the dual sensation has you climbing fast. âThatâs it,â he encourages. âSo good, baby, youâre so good,â
You come with his name on your lips, clenching around him and he follows seconds afterâhips stuttering as he spills inside you, groaning your name like a prayer. For a long moment you just lie there, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync. His weight is comforting, grounding, and you run your fingers through his hair as you both come down.
âBest birthday ever,â he mumbles against your neck.
You laugh softly. âItâs only been an hour.â
âDonât care. Already the best.â He lifts his head to look at you, eyes soft and warm. âGot everything I need right here.â
âSimp,â you accuse fondly.
âYours and donât you forget it,â he says before he kisses you slowly, thoroughly, like heâs trying to memorize the taste of you. He pulls out carefully, both of you wincing at the sensitivity, then collapses beside you and immediately pulls you against him. His hand resumes its place on your stomach, fingers tracing idle patterns, and you realize this is his favorite place to touch you; this soft part of you that youâve always been self-conscious about, but he treats like itâs precious.
âI love this,â he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. His palm presses flat against your stomach, warm and possessive. âLove how soft you are here. Love putting my head right here when we watch movies. Love kissing here.â He demonstrates, pressing his lips to your shoulder. âLove how you feel under my hands.â
âHyune,â you say, throat tight.
âI know you donât always believe me,â he continues quietly. âI know you still get in your head about your body sometimes but baby, Iâm obsessed with you. All of you. Every curve, every stretch mark, every inch of you. The way your thighs feel around my head. The way your hips fit in my hands. The way you feel pressed against me.â
He rolls you onto your back so he can look at you properly, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand traces the lines of your bodyâyour collarbone, the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip.
âThis body?â he says seriously. âThis perfect, gorgeous body that you try to hide sometimes? Itâs everything to me. Youâre everything to me.â
âYou make me feel beautiful,â you admit quietly. âEven when I donât feel it myself, you make me believe it.â
âGood.â He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, then rests his head there, looking up at you. âBecause you are. Youâre so fucking beautiful it makes me stupid. Makes me take three-hour train rides on Thursday nights. Makes me fail quizzes because I canât stop thinking about you. Makes me walk past your apartment building like a creep.â
You laugh, fingers automatically threading through his hair. âStill canât believe you did that.â
âIâd do worse,â he says easily. âIâd do anything for you, Muse. Anything at all.â
âI know,â you say softly. âYouâve been proving it.â
âAnd Iâll do it again tomorrow.â He presses another kiss to your stomach, then one to your hip. âWill do it every day. Would rearrange my entire life around you if thatâs what it took.â
âThatâs a lot of pressure,â you point out, but youâre smiling.
âNah.â He grins up at you. âItâs easy when itâs you. Everythingâs easy when itâs you.â He crawls back up your body, settling beside you again, and you curl into him naturally. The ocean sounds drift through the windows, mixing with his breathing and you feel more relaxed than you have in days.
âThank you,â you murmur against his chest. âFor coming, for being here. For making this long week better.â
âAlways,â he says simply, pressing a kiss to your hair. âThereâs nowhere else Iâd rather be than wherever you are.â
You lie there together, talking quietly about nothing and everything. He tells you about the celebration with the boys on Wednesday; how theyâd gone to his favorite restaurant and Felix had gotten drunk and tried to serenade him, how Han had gotten him a nice watch that heâs definitely wearing right now, how theyâd all teased him mercilessly about being whipped for you.
âWhich I am,â he admits cheerfully. âCompletely pussy-whipped and not even ashamed of it.â
âHyunjin!â you laugh, smacking his chest.
âWhat? Itâs true!â He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. âIâm obsessed. Canât stop thinking about you. Canât function without you. Pretty sure Iâve become That Guy in our friend group.â
âWhat guy?â
âThe one who never shuts up about his girlfriend. The one who checks his phone constantly. The one who bails on plans because heâd rather be with his girl.â He grins, unrepentant. âFelix said Iâve been insufferable since New Yearâs. Han said I need to âget a grip.â I told them they just donât understand true love.â
âOh, good lord.â
âI also showed them like fifty pictures of you,â he continues. âWhich they said was âconcerningâ but I think theyâre just jealous because their girlfriends arenât as pretty as mine.â
âYou did not show them fifty pictures.â
âI absolutely did. Had a whole slideshow prepared. They made me stop at thirty, but I could have kept going.â He pulls out his phone. âWant to see? I have them organized into foldersââMuse being cute,â âMuse laughing,â âMuse concentrating,â âMuse sleepingâââ
âYou have pictures of me sleeping?â
âJust a few!â Heâs grinning now, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. âLike maybeâŠtwenty?â
âTwenty? Hwang Hyunjin!â
âYou look really peaceful when you sleep! Itâs cute!â Heâs laughing now, pulling you closer when you try to squirm away. âI canât help it! Youâre beautiful all the time and I have no self-control when it comes to you!â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âYou love it,â he counters, and kisses you until youâre laughing against his mouth. The conversation drifts to your plans; what you want to do with your research, his post-graduation job prospects, the possibility of moving in together when his lease is up in June.
âWeâve only been dating for two months,â you point out.
âSo? Iâve been in love with you for almost a year and I already spend most nights at your place anyway. Might as well make it official.â He nuzzles into your neck. âBesides, think of all the time weâd save if we didnât have to go back and forth. More time for important things.â
âLike?â
âLike this.â He rolls on top of you, settling between your thighs. âLike getting to wake up with you every day. Like coming home to you. Like never having to sleep alone in a bed thatâs too big and too cold because youâre not in it.â
âYou really missed me, huh?â
âSoooooo fucking much,â he admits. âTwo days felt like two years. I donât ever want to do that again.â
âWell, Iâm here now,â you say softly, pulling him down into a kiss. âAnd Iâm not going anywhere.â
âPromise?â
âPromise.â
He makes love to you again; slower this time, sweeter, like heâs savoring every moment and when youâre both sated and drowsy, tangled together in the expensive sheets with the sound of the ocean in the background, you think that maybe this is what happiness feels like.
âHappy birthday, Hyune,â you whisper, pressing a kiss to his chest.
âBest birthday ever,â he mumbles back, already half-asleep. âLove you so much, Muse.â
âLove you too.â
You drift off like that, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and when you wake a few hours later to the early dawn light filtering through the windows, you find him already awakeâjust watching you with that soft expression that makes your heart squeeze.
âMorning,â he says quietly, brushing hair from your face. âSorry, didnât mean to wake you.â
âYou didnât. What time is it?â
âAlmost six.â He presses a kiss to your forehead. âSunâs coming up. Want to watch it with me?â
You nod and he pulls you up, wrapping the hotel robe around you before leading you to the windows. You settle on the small couch there, you between his legs with your back to his chest and watch as the sun slowly rises over the ocean, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks.
âThis is perfect,â you murmur.
âYeah,â he agrees, arms tightening around you. âIt really is.â
You sit there in comfortable silence, watching the sunrise, and you think about how much has changed in two months. How this boy who youâd tried to keep at armâs length has become your entire world. How his obsession with you isnât overwhelming but comforting, a constant reminder that youâre wanted, chosen, loved.
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asks, chin resting on your shoulder.
âYou,â you admit. âUs. How happy I am.â
âYeah?â His smile is audible in his voice.
âYeah. Even though youâre clingy and obsessive and took a train to Busan on a Thursday night.â
âBecause of all that,â he corrects. âNot âeven though.ââ
You laugh. âOkay, because of all that. Because youâre you and Iâm stupidly in love with you.â
He turns your face so he can kiss you properly. âNot stupid. Smart. Iâm a great boyfriend.â
âThe best,â you agree, and mean it.
The sun continues to rise, the sky getting brighter and you know youâll have to shower and get ready for the seminar soon,but for now, you just sit here with him, soaking in this momentâthis perfect birthday morning with the love of your life.
âHey Muse?â he says after a while.
âMmmh?â
âI know I said it drunk on birthday sex last night, butââ He takes a breath. âI really do want to marry you someday. Like, for real. Not just because I was inside you and I wasnât thinking straight, but because I canât imagine my life without you in it. Because I want thisâyou and meâforever.â
Your heart stops. âHyunjinââ
âI know itâs fast,â he continues. âI know weâve only been officially together for two months, but Iâve been in love with you for way longer than that, and Iâm not going to change my mind. So justâwhen youâre ready, when it doesnât feel too fast anymoreâknow that Iâll be ready. That Iâm already sure.â
You turn in his arms to face him properly, and the vulnerability in his eyes, the absolute certainty mixed with the fear that heâs said too muchâit breaks something open in your chest.
âAsk me again in a year,â you say softly, cupping his face. âWhen weâve lived together and youâve seen me at my worst and you still want this. Ask me then.â
His smile is brilliant. âThatâs not a no.â
âThatâs definitely not a no,â you confirm, and kiss him.
âOne year,â he says against your lips. âI can do one year but Iâm warning you now, Iâm going to be thinking about it constantly. Planning it. Iâm going to be the most annoying boyfriend ever about it.â
âYouâre already the most annoying boyfriend ever,â you point out. âMight as well commit to it.â
âDeal.â He grins, then glances at the clock. âYouâve got about two hours before you need to leave for the seminar.â
âTwo hours, huh?â You straddle his lap, arms looping around his neck. âWhatever will we do with all that time?â
His hands find your hips, grin turning wicked. âI have a few ideas. After all, it is my birthday and I still havenât gotten my present from you yet.â
âNo?â You roll your hips, gratified by his sharp intake of breath. âWhat did you have in mind?â
âWell,â he says, hands sliding under your robe to grip your ass, âI was thinking about waking up to you riding me but we can save that for when weâre back in Seoul.â
âOh?â Youâre already working his robe open. âWhat about today then?â
âToday,â he says, lifting you slightly so he can line himself up, âI want you just like this. Want to watch your face while you take me. Want to see every expression, every reaction. Want to memorize how you look when you come because Iâm going to be thinking about it until I see you again.â
âThatâs only a few hours,â you point out, but youâre already sinking down onto him, both of you groaning.
âHours too long,â he gasps, hands guiding your hips. âTwo hours too long. Two minutes too long. Any time without you is too long.â
As the sun continues to rise outside, you make love slowly, savoring every moment, every touch because in two hours youâll have to leave, and then you wonât see each other until the seminar ends. But for now, you have this; this perfect morning, this beautiful man who took a train to spend his birthday with you, this overwhelming love that neither of you quite knows how to contain.
âHappy birthday,â you gasp as you move together, as pleasure builds between you.
âBest birthday ever,â he agrees, and pulls you into a kiss. Later, after youâve both come undone in each otherâs arms, after youâve showered together again and heâs helped you get dress for the seminar, he kisses you goodbye with a promise to be waiting when youâre done.
The morning session drags. Your presentation goes wellâProfessor Kim even compliments your researchâbut youâre distracted, checking your phone between panels, counting down the minutes as you sit in the back of the conference room, barely listening to the presentations, thinking about the man waiting for you back at the hotel.
The man who has a folder of restaurant recommendations, who walked past your apartment because he missed you, who took a three-hour train ride on a Thursday night just to spend his birthday with you. The man who wants to marry you someday and you realize you want that too.
Hyune đ„đ„°: hows it going?
You: good. presentation went well
Hyune đ„đ„°: of course it did. you're brilliant
Hyune đ„đ„°: anyway I'm in the pool
Hyune đ„đ„°: its really nice
Hyune đ„đ„°: wish you were here
Hyune đ„đ„°: the view is incredible
A minute later, a video comes through. You open it and nearly drop your phone.
Itâs Hyunjin in the poolâand by âin the poolâ you mean heâs rising out of the water in one smooth motion, water cascading down his body. The video is shot from his phone propped somewhere, probably on a lounge chair, giving you a perfect view of his chest and back as he emerges from the pool.
His back.
Those shoulders, broad and defined. The line of his spine, water droplets tracing down the valley of muscle. The way his swim trunks sit low on his hips, the dimples at the base of his spine just barely visible. The flex of his arms and shoulders as he moves, every muscle defined and glistening.
Holy fuck.
You watch it again. And again.
Hyune đ„đ„°: told you the view was incredible
You: hyunjinâŠ
Hyune đ„đ„°: what? just showing you the pool
You: i hate you
Hyune đ„đ„°: no you don't
Hyune đ„đ„°: whats wrong? you sound upset and why do you have memes of Felix?
You look around the conference roomâProfessor Lee is still talking, everyoneâs attention on the front. Youâre in the back corner, phone hidden on your laptop keyboard.
Fuck it.
You: thatâs not important rn, I'm trying to pay attention to this panel and you send me THAT???????
Hyune đ„đ„°: what? its just me in the pool?
You: you KNOW what you did, what youâre doing
You: your back should be illegal
Hyune đ„đ„°: my back??? Where are you getting these memes? Did Han send them to you????
You: irrelevant and yes your back
You: your shoulders. your spine. those fucking dimples.
Hyune đ„đ„°: đđ
Hyune đ„đ„°: muse are you turned on by my back?
You: I'm turned on by ALL of you but yes especially your back right now
You: been thinking about it for the past 10 minutes
You: thinking about dragging my nails down it. biting your shoulder. watching the muscles flex when youâre inside me.
Hyune đ„đ„°: oh my god
Hyune đ„đ„°: youâre going to kill me
Hyune đ„đ„°: I'm in PUBLIC
You: payback for yesterdayâs sexting
You: how does it feel?
Hyune đ„đ„°: RUDE
Hyune đ„đ„°: also extremely hot
Hyune đ„đ„°: also I'm hard now so thanks for that
You: youâre welcome
You: what are you going to do about it?
Hyune đ„đ„°: well i WAS going to swim some more laps
Hyune đ„đ„°: but NOW I'm thinking about your hands on my back
Hyune đ„đ„°: your mouth on my skin
Hyune đ„đ„°: you riding me while I watch your face in the mirror
Wait.
You: what mirror?
Hyune đ„đ„°: the one on the ceiling
You: WHAT??
Hyune đ„đ„°: you didn't notice?
Hyune đ„đ„°: thereâs a huge mirror on the ceiling above the bed Hyune đ„đ„°: noticed it this morning when i woke up
Hyune đ„đ„°: been thinking about it ever since
You: thinking about what exactly????
Hyune đ„đ„°: about you on your back
Hyune đ„đ„°: watching me fuck you from above
Hyune đ„đ„°: watching my back while i make you fall apart
Hyune đ„đ„°: seeing everything from a completely different angle
Hyune đ„đ„°: have you ever done that before?
You: noâŠ
Hyune đ„đ„°: good
Hyune đ„đ„°: want to be your first
Hyune đ„đ„°: want to watch you see yourself the way i see you
Hyune đ„đ„°: want to see my back the way you want to see it
Hyune đ„đ„°: while I'm buried inside you
Your breathing has gone shallow. Professor Leeâs voice fades into background noise. All you can think about is getting back to that hotel room..
You: closing remarks start at noon
Hyune đ„đ„°: how long do they usually last
You: too fucking long
Hyune đ„đ„°: can you leave early?
You: i should stay for lunch. networking and all that.
Hyune đ„đ„°: or
Hyune đ„đ„°: you could come back here
Hyune đ„đ„°: and i could put my mouth on you
Hyune đ„đ„°: make you come while you watch in the mirror
Hyune đ„đ„°: then fuck you exactly how youâve been thinking about
Hyune đ„đ„°: with you on your back and your hands in my hair
Hyune đ„đ„°: and we can both watch my back while i make you fall apart
Fuck networking. Fuck lunch.
You: leaving as soon as this panel ends
Hyune đ„đ„°: good
Hyune đ„đ„°: iâll be waiting
Hyune đ„đ„°: naked
You: HYUNJIN
Hyune đ„đ„°: what? it's my birthday
Hyune đ„đ„°: i can be naked in my hotel room if i want
You: our hotel room
Hyune đ„đ„°: even better
Hyune đ„đ„°: hurry back baby. got a whole afternoon planned for us
You: just the afternoon?
Hyune đ„đ„°: afternoon. evening. night. tomorrow.
Hyune đ„đ„°: basically until we check out sunday
You: insatiable
Hyune đ„đ„°: you started it with the back thing
Hyune đ„đ„°: now youâre gonna have to finish it
The panel finally, mercifully, ends at 11:58. You sit through two minutes of closing remarks before slipping out the back, texting Hyunjin that youâre on your way.
The taxi ride back to the hotel feels like it takes forever. Youâre vibrating with anticipation, replaying that video in your mind, thinking about whatâs waiting for you.
When you finally get to the room and slide your keycard in, you find exactly what Hyunjin promised; heâs on the bed, gloriously naked, still damp from the pool with his hair towel-dried and messy. Heâs propped up against the headboard, and when he sees you, his smile is pure sin.
âWelcome back,â he says. âHow was the seminar?â
You drop your bag, eyes tracking over him. âEducational.â
âLearn anything interesting?â
âYeah.â You start unbuttoning your blouse, never breaking eye contact. âLearned that my boyfriendâs back should come with a warning label.â
His laugh is delighted. âDid you really get turned on by a video of me getting out of a pool?â
âYou know I did.â The blouse hits the floor, followed by your skirt. âYou sent it on purpose.â
âMaybe,â he admits, eyes tracking your movements hungrily. âWanted to give you something to think about during your boring panels.â
âIt worked.â Youâre in just your underwear now, standing at the foot of the bed. âCouldnât focus on anything else.â
âGood.â He crooks a finger at you. âCome here, baby. Let me show you what Iâve been thinking about all morning.â
You climb onto the bed and thatâs when you see it, the mirror on the ceiling. Large and perfectly positioned above the bed, reflecting both of you back in perfect clarity.
âOh,â you breathe.
âYeah,â Hyunjin says, hands sliding up your thighs. âPretty sure this hotel caters to a specific clientele.â
âAnd you booked it anyway?â
âI booked it for the ocean view,â he says, grinning. âThis is just a bonus. A good bonus.â
He pulls you down into a kiss, one hand resting on your throat while the other palms your ass through your underwear. You want to see all of it in the mirrorâhis hands on you, the arch of your back, the way your bodies fit together.
âLook up,â he murmurs against your lips. âWatch.â So you do and fuck, he was right.
Seeing it from this angleâseeing yourself through his eyes, seeing how your body curves against his, seeing his hands claim youâitâs overwhelming and arousing and you suddenly understand why heâs been thinking about this all morning.
âBeautiful,â he breathes, and you can see his face in the mirror too, see the way heâs looking at you like youâre everything. âSo fucking beautiful, Muse. Do you see it? See what I see every time I look at you?â
âIâm starting to,â you admit, and he grins.
âGood. Now let me really show you.â
He sits up, bringing you with him, and reaches for your hair. Youâd put it up in a bun this morning for the seminar, and his fingers find the tie, pulling it free. Your hair tumbles down around your shoulders and he makes this satisfied sound low in his throat.
âThere,â he says, fingers immediately threading through the curls. âThatâs better. Love your hair down. Love getting my fingers tangled in it.â
He demonstrates, fisting his hand in your hair and tugging gently, making you gasp and arch. You can see it in the mirror, the way your head tilts back exposing your throat, the way his hand looks buried in your hair.
âFuck, yes,â he breathes. âJust like that. So perfect.â His other hand slides down to your hips, working your underwear down your legs. When youâre completely bare, he wastes no time, one hand sliding between your thighs while the other stays tangled in your hair.
âLook at you,â he murmurs, fingers finding you already wet. âLook at how ready you are for me. Look at how your body wants me.â
You watch in the mirror as his hand works between your legs, as your thighs tremble, as you rock into his touch. The visual combined with the sensation is overwhelming.
âWant to see your back,â you gasp. âWant to watch you fuck me like in the video.â
His groan is absolutely wrecked. âYeah? Want to be on your back while I fuck you? Want to watch my back in the mirror?â
âPlease,â you whimper. âNeed it. Need you.â
âOkay, baby, okay.â Heâs already moving, positioning you on your back on the bed. âGonna give you everything you want. But firstââ he settles between your thighs, ââfirst I need to taste you.â
âHyune, please, I need youââ
âAnd youâll have me,â he promises. âBut I need this first. Need to get my mouth on you.â
He doesnât give you a chance to argue before his tongue is on you, and you cry out, hands flying to his hairâthat long, beautiful hair you can actually grip now. He moans against you, the vibration making you shudder.
âLook up,â he commands between licks. âWatch yourself.â Seeing yourself like this, spread out beneath him, his head between your thighs, his hands gripping your hipsâitâs obscene and beautiful and overwhelming.
âThatâs it,â he encourages and you can see his eyes in the mirror, watching you watch yourself. âSee how fucking beautiful you are? See what I get to taste, what I get to worship?â
His tongue circles your clit, then heâs sliding two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly. The combination is devastating and you canât look away from the mirror as you watch your chest heave, your back arch, your hands fisting in his hair.
âHyune, baby Iâm gonnaââ
âCome for me,â he demands. âWant to taste it. Want to feel you come on my tongue.â
He seals his lips around your clit and sucks, fingers hitting that spot inside you, and you shatterâcrying out his name, thighs trembling around his head. He works you through it, tongue gentling as you come down.
When he finally pulls away, his face is wet with you and heâs grinning like heâs won the lottery. âNever getting tired of that. Could spend hours between your thighs.â
âLater,â you gasp. âRight now, I needâI need to see your back. Need you inside me.â
âSo demanding,â he teases, but heâs already moving, positioning himself above you. âLike this? Want to watch me fuck you?â
âYes,â you breathe, because you can see him in the mirror now, see the broad expanse of his back, those shoulders, the way his muscles shift as he moves. âOh fuck, yes.â
He lines himself up, and when he pushes insideâslow and deep and perfectâyou both moan. The angle is incredible and you can see everything in the mirror above.
âLook at you,â he breathes, starting to move. âLook at us. Look at how perfectly you take me.â Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching his back flex with each thrust, watching the play of muscles beneath his skin, watching those dimples at the base of his spine appear and disappear as he moves.
âYour back,â you gasp, hands sliding up to grip his shoulders. âFuck, Hyune, youâre so beautifulââ
He groans, hips snapping harder. âKeep talking. Tell me what you see.â
âI seeââ youâre panting now, watching him in the mirror, ââsee how your shoulders move, how your back flexes, those fucking dimplesâŠâ You drag your nails down his back and he shudders. âWant to mark you up. Want everyone to see.â
âDo it,â he growls. âMark me. Make me yours.â
Your nails drag down his back with more pressure, leaving angry red lines in their wake. He moans, fucking into you harder and you watch the marks appear in the mirror.
âFuck, Muse, you feel so good,â he pants. âSo perfect, so tightââ One of his hands tangles in your hair, tugging, angling your head so you have to keep watching the mirror. âDonât look away. Want you to see this. Want you to see us.â
The combination of sensationsâthe fullness of him inside you, the pull of his hand in your hair, the visual of his back flexing above youâis overwhelming. You can feel another orgasm building, faster this time.
âTouch yourself,â he demands. âWant to feel you come around me.â You slide one hand between your bodies, finding your clit, and the added stimulation makes you gasp. You can see it all in the mirrorâhis back, your hand working, the way your bodies move together.
âThatâs it, baby,â he encourages. âLet me feel it. Come for me.â But then he shifts the angle slightly and hits something deep inside you, and suddenly youâre coming harder than you ever have; body seizing, a gush of wetness and youâre distantly aware of Hyunjin making this absolutely feral sound.
âFuck, fuck, did you justââ He pulls back to look at you, eyes wild. âMuse, did you just squirt?â
Youâre too overwhelmed to respond, still trembling through aftershocks and he looks down at the wet sheets, at the evidence of what just happened, and something in him snaps.
âOh fuck,â he growls, and suddenly heâs flipping you over, manhandling you onto your hands and knees so fast you barely process it. âGonna make you do that again. Gonna make you fall apart for me.â
âHyune, I canât, I justââ
âYou can,â he insists, sliding back inside you from behind. This angle is even deeper, and you cry out. âYouâre gonna come for me again, baby. Gonna watch yourself in the mirror while I fuck you, gonna see how fucking gorgeous you are when you let go.â
You turn your head and look up at the mirror, and the sight makes you moan; you can see yourself now, see your face, your body, see him behind you with his hands gripping your hips. His back is on display, covered in the red marks you left, and the visual is obscene.
âLook at you,â he breathes, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair again, tugging your head back so you have to keep watching. âLook at how well you take me. Look at how perfect you are.â
He starts to move, and itâs harder than before, more desperate. His free hand slides around to find your clit, and youâre already so sensitive that you nearly sob at the contact.
âToo muchââ
âNot too much,â he counters. âNever too much. You can take it, baby. You can give me one more.â
Heâs relentless, fucking into you while his fingers work your clit, his other hand pulling your hair just enough to keep you watching the mirror. You can see everythingâthe way your body moves with each thrust, the way his back flexes, the absolutely feral expression on his face.
âSo good,â heâs panting. âSo fucking perfect. Love you so much, love this, love making you fall apartââ
You can feel it building again impossibly fast, the pressure overwhelming. âHyune, IâmâIâm gonnaââ
âDo it,â he demands. âCome for me again. Want to feel it, want to see itââ
And you do, screaming his name as you come again, body shaking so hard he has to hold you up. You feel that gush again, feel yourself absolutely drench him, and his groan is absolutely wrecked.
âFuck yes, thatâs it, thatâs so fucking hotââ His rhythm falters, hips stuttering. âGonna come, baby, gonnaâfuckââ
He buries himself deep with a shout of your name, and you can see it in the mirrorâthe way his back arches, the way his whole body tenses, the absolute bliss on his face. For a moment you both just stay frozen like that; him still inside you, both of you trembling and gasping, then heâs carefully pulling out, helping you collapse onto the bed before collapsing beside you.
âHoly fuck,â he breathes.
âYeah,â you agree, because you canât form more complex sentences yet.
âYou squirted.â He sounds awed. âTwice. I made you squirt twice.â
âDonât be smug about it.â
âIâm absolutely being smug about it,â he says, grinning like a maniac. âThat was the hottest thing Iâve ever seen in my life. Weâre definitely doing that again.â
âI canât move.â
âDonât need to move. Just need to lay here and let me worship you.â He pulls you against him, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. âYouâre fucking incredible, you know that? Perfect. Mine.â
âYours,â you agree, still dazed.
âAnd we have a mirror kink now.â
âWe absolutely have a mirror kink now,â you admit.
His laugh is delighted. âBest discovery ever. Well, second best. First best was you, obviously.â
âSimp.â
âProudly,â he grins, and even exhausted and wrung out, you smile. After a few minutes of recovery, he insists on cleaning you upâgentle hands with a warm washcloth, tender care that makes your chest tight. The sheets are definitely ruined, and he laughs as he strips them off.
âWorth it,â he declares. âTotally worth it. Hotelâs probably used to it anyway, given the whole mirror situation.â
âOh my god, donâtâI canât think about that.â
âWhy not? Weâre consenting adults who just had amazing sex in a hotel designed for it. Nothing to be embarrassed about.â He tosses the sheets aside and pulls you back into bedâthe mattress is fine, and there are extra blankets in the closet. âBesides, I plan on doing it again. Multiple times. We have until Sunday.â
âYouâre insatiable.â
âOnly for you,â he says, and pulls you close. âBut first, food. Iâm starving. You worked me hard.â
âI worked you hard?â
âYou squirted on me twice,â he points out. âThat takes effort. Team effort. We both deserve a medal and also several thousand calories.â
You canât help but laugh, and he grins, looking pleased with himself.
âRoom service?â he suggests.
âRoom service,â you agree. âAnd then maybe a nap.â
âAnd then round two,â he adds.
âHyunjinââ
âWhat? I have plans for that mirror. Weâve barely scratched the surface of possibilities.â You cover his face with a pillow, laughing despite your embarrassment, and heâs laughing too, pulling you on top of him.
âI love you,â he says, grinning up at you. âEven when you try to suffocate me.â
âLove you too,â you say. âEven when youâre a menace.â
âEspecially when Iâm a menace,â he corrects. âAdmit it, you love it.â
You do. You really, really do.
The rest of Friday afternoon is spent exactly as Hyunjin promised; room serviceâwhich gets cold again because you canât keep your hands off each otherâ a napâthat turns into lazy, sleepy sexâand then more exploration of the mirrorâs possibilities.
Saturday morning, you wake up to Hyunjin already awake, propped up on one elbow, just watching you.
âCreep,â you mumble sleepily.
âYour creep,â he corrects, leaning down to kiss you. âHappy Saturday. Ready to explore Busan with me?â
After another round in the showerâbecause Hyunjin has no self-control and youâre not complainingâyou finally get dressed and leave the hotel.
Busan in March is beautifulâthe air is crisp but not cold, the sky clear, the ocean a brilliant blue. Hyunjin holds your hand as you walk along Haeundae Beach, occasionally stopping to take photos.
âYou have enough pictures of me,â you protest.
âImpossible. Thereâs no such thing as enough pictures of you.â He snaps several anyway, then pulls you close for a selfie. âThere. Perfect.â
The cafe Jeongin recommended is small and cozy, tucked away on a side street. The coffee is incredible, and Hyunjin orders you both pastries despite your protests.
âItâs my birthday weekend,â he argues.
âYour birthday was yesterday.â
âBirthday weekend is a thing. Iâm making it a thing.â He steals a kiss. âLet me spoil you, Muse.â
You spend the afternoon exploring; Gamcheon Culture Village with its colorful houses and street art, small shops, too many photos. Hyunjin buys you a small ceramic piece from a local artist despite your protests, insisting itâll look perfect in your apartment.
âOur apartment,â he corrects. âWhen we move in together in June.â
âWe havenât decided that yetââ
âWe have though,â he says simply. âYou just havenât admitted it but we both know youâre going to say yes.â
Heâs probably right.
As the sun sets, you find yourselves back at the beach. Hyunjin pulls you down to sit in the sand, your back against his chest, his arms around your waist.
âThank you,â he says quietly.
âFor what?â
âFor being here. For giving me this. For giving us a chance.â He presses a kiss to your shoulder. âYouâre everything to me, Muse.â
You turn in his arms to face him properly. âYouâre everything to me too, Hyune.â He kisses you as the sun sets over the ocean, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks.
âCome on,â he says eventually, pulling you to your feet. âLetâs get dinner, then go back to the hotel.â
âMore mirror activities?â
âOh, definitely,â he grins. âIâve been thinking about all the different positions we could try but I also just want to lay up with you.â
Saturday night is full of cuddles and making full use of the mirror one last time. Hyunjin maps every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, making you watch, making you see yourself the way he sees youâbeautiful, wanted, loved.
âIâm going to miss this mirror,â he admits later, both of you sweaty and sated and tangled together.
âWe could get one for our apartment,â you suggest, and his eyes light up.
âOur apartment?â
You realize what youâve said. âIâI meanââ
âNo takebacks,â he says, grinning brilliantly. âYou said our apartment. Thatâs legally binding.â
âThatâs not how that worksââ
âToo late. Already planning the furniture arrangement. The mirrorâs going above the bed, obviouslyââ
âHyunjin!â
You kiss him to shut him up, and he kisses back, still smiling.
âOur apartment,â he says against your lips.
âOur apartment,â you agree, and his joy is palpable.
Sunday morning, you check out of the hotel with reluctanceâleaving behind the mirror, the ocean view, the bubble of this perfect weekend but Hyunjin is grinning as he holds your bags, talking about all the places in Seoul he wants to take you, the furniture shopping youâll do together, the life youâre building.
The train ride back is comfortable and easy. Youâre in first classâHyunjinâs treatâand you spend the journey curled against his side, his arm around you, both of you alternating between dozing and talking and stealing kisses.
âBest birthday ever,â he says for probably the hundredth time.
âYou keep saying that.â
âBecause itâs true.â He presses a kiss to your hair. âGot to spend it with you. Got to discover our mirror kink. Got you to admit weâre moving in together. Iâd call that a successful birthday.â
You hide your face in his chest, embarrassed, and feel him laugh. When the train pulls into Seoul Station, youâre both reluctant to separate but Hyunjin insists on coming to your place.
âWeâll order food, watch something, justâŠstay together a little longer,â he says.
âBesides,â you add, âyou should start getting used to it. Since weâre apparently moving in together in June.â
âWe are,â he confirms, grabbing both your bags. âyou agreed to it.â
As you head home togetherâto your apartment that will soon be both of yoursâyou think about how much has changed in two months. How this boy who youâd tried to keep at armâs length has become your entire world.
âI love you,â you say as youâre leaving the station, hand in his.
âI love you too,â he says. âSo fucking much, Muse. Thanks for the best birthday ever.â
âThanks for coming to Busan.â
âAlways,â he says simply. âWherever you are, thatâs where I want to be.â
And as you head home together, you realize that maybe this is what happiness looks like. A ridiculous, obsessive boyfriend who takes trains to Busan on Thursday nights.
A mirror on a hotel ceiling and a love thatâs big enough to handle both.
You close the door to Kyungminâs room quietly, hearing the soft noise of the latch clicking into place, face scrunching together, silently praying that you donât hear his small voice call you back inside.Â
At the same time, Wooyoungâs key turns in your front door, heavy, deep brown wood groaning open. On silent feet he ushers himself inside, closing the door quietly behind him, lips tucked between his teeth to enforce the silence.Â
From the top of the staircase, you see him dressed in oversized charcoal at the bottom, kicking his sneakers off his feet while throwing his phone, wallet and keys on the entryway table. Skipping down the stairs, you forgo greeting him, whispering, âBe quiet, he just went down.âÂ
âHeâs eight,â Wooyoung whispers back, âyou still tuck him in?âÂ
âHe begs me to,â your brows knit together, âhe doesnât beg you?âÂ
âNo,â his lips spread in a grin, âheâs a big boy at my house.âÂ
You scoff, âShut up, heâll always be my baby.â Leading him into the living room, you keep your voice low, louder than a whisper, âWe have to be quiet.âÂ
âYou have to be quiet,â he corrects you, tone teasing, smirking as you lay back on the couch. The TV is on but muted, the lamp in the corner coating the living area in dusky orange even if the sun had gone to sleep hours ago.Â
âI am quiet,â you pout as he crawls over you, wasting no time, crouching between your parted legs, a hand falling to the back of the couch for purchase as he pecks a short kiss to your lips.Â
âDonât tease tonight,â you grab hold of his hoodie, pulling him close enough for your lips to touch, âI donât have it in me to fight for it.âÂ
He smiles, kissing you again, parting your lips with his own, hands moving to the armrest to keep him steady as he lowers his hips into you. You gasp into his mouth at the friction, your tiny shorts doing nothing to shield you from his weight.Â
âThen donât fight,â he moves to kiss your jaw, your head tilts to let him in, his breath is hot against your skin, âlay there and behave for once.âÂ
Your hands find his neck, his cheeks, pulling him back up to kiss you deeper, head lifting off the pillow, calves hooking over the back of his thighs. He makes a grumbled noise, tongue licking into your mouth like he was searching for something, one hand falling from the armrest to tug at the hem of your hoodie, pushing it upward.Â
âOff.âÂ
One word, a singular order, you sink further down the couch after pulling it off your body in a rush, throwing the pillow beneath your head to the floor, giving him space to plant his elbows above your shoulders.Â
âDonât wait,â you murmur into his mouth, âI can take it.âÂ
He hums, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before he answers, âYou donât know how to take it.â
âThen Iâll fucking learn,â your feet tug at his sweatpants, spine bending toward him, âget inside me.â
âAntsy,â he sits back on his knees, pushing his sweatpants and his briefs down in one quick motion. âLike I havenât been fucking you right or something.â
âYou havenât been here in a week,â you argue, pushing your shorts down to your ankles, kicking them on the floor, âyou havenât been fucking me at all.â
âI had our kid for four of those days,â he pulls your thighs over his, sliding his cock through your folds, âI didnât see you at my door after he went to bed. On his own, might I add.â
You loose a shaky breath as his tip collides with your clit, hips bucking up towards him, âShit, I was busy, Wooyoung. What about those three days then?â
He pauses, glancing up at you, âYou serious?â
âYes?â You blink, âWhat were you doing? You had Friday, Saturday and Sunday.â
He laughs, lining himself up, holding his breath as he pushes inside. Your lips part in a silent scream, head tilting backwards to dig into the couch cushions, hands clawing at your own thighs for something. He stills once heâs fully seated, chest heaving, veiny forearms reaching for your ankles.Â
âSo fuckinâ tight,â he grinds out, voice tight with restrain, pushing your knees up to your chest. âCareful what you say, wifey. Might think you want me for real.â
âRegretting,â you squeak, eyes screwed shut tight, âsâbig.â
Heâd laugh again if your pussy didnât look so pretty trying to keep him in. Walls fluttering around the base of him, your clit pulsed, begging for attention already, he started a slow, deep grind of his hips, making sure he filled you up all the way with each one.Â
âSo wet for me, mommy. Didnât even have to touch you,â he keeps his palms splayed on your thighs, bearing his weight as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the arch of your foot that dangles in the air.Â
You whimper, face scrunching in pleasure, core clenching around him, he kisses up to your ankle, grazing his teeth against your skin, your hands shoot for his wrists, his forearms, just to hold them. Forcing words out, you say, âBeen waiting for this, for you.â
âA whole week,â he picks up the pace, voice leaning into condescending, âmust have been so hard.â
Your breath catches, eyes rolling back, a soft moan tumbling off your tongue, âFuck, ât was. It was.â
âQuiet,â he reminds you, âor Iâll stop.â
âYou wonât stop,â you mutter, fingers tightening over his wrists, a challenge.Â
At that he stills, sitting back on his calves, leaving just the tip inside. âI wonât what?â
Jaw clenching, your hips follow him, he lays his palms over bone to keep you still. You stay like that for a moment, a game of chicken, eyes locked on his that stare at you expectantly. Obedience, silence, submission, he loves you bratty, heâs a brat himself, but when it comes to fucking you open on your couch just past nine at night, he expects you to listen.Â
âFine,â you shift against the cushions, âfine, you win.â
He pulls you onto his cock by your hips without a word and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to force yourself silent. The angle, the ease in which he mounted you onto him, your eyes slammed shut, gasping out a broken sound into your palm, he fills you up perfectly, carving into you like you were built to take him and him only, itâs war to not cry out in pleasure.
âFuck,â under his breath, low, he tells you how good you feel in one blurted word. You roll your hips against him, meeting his thrusts, curved cock dragging along the front of your walls with each grind.Â
âMore,â you plead, grabbing for him, âkiss me.â
He crawls over you, elbows beside your ears again, pressing his lips to yours with a softness reserved for you. His hips slow, your ankles crossing over his back, pushing his hoodie up with your heels just to feel more of his skin against you.Â
âYes,â you whisper, breathing the same air, bodies moving together now, âjust like that, daddy.â
His forehead meets yours, a quiet noise of pleasure rumbling from his chest, ââm not gonna last.â
You kiss him again, tongue slotting between his lips, hands tugging at his roots, body moving in the shape of his, the only thing you can hear is your breath singing in harmony and the slick sound of your bodies conjoining.Â
Six weeks of Wooyoung breaking you down on your couch, your kitchen counter, your living room floor, once against the wall just outside of your hallway bathroom. You donât know what it is, you havenât spoken any more of what it means, what comes next, the only thing you know is that you canât stop.Â
âWant me to fill you up? Fuck you full?â
Youâre nodding, tongue catching on his lips, delirious with pleasure, your body ached for him. Burned for him. Only him. Always himâ till death do you part.
âYes, daddy,â you whisper, voice pitched and whiny.Â
His hips stutter, he tucks his head into your neck to muffle his groan, fingers tightening in your hair thatâs sprawled out around your head like a blanket. Losing his rhythm, his slow deep strokes turning shallow, quickâ chasing a high he found so easily with you.Â
Your toes curl over his back, chin tipping up when you feel the warmth spread, the heaviness, the feeling was indescribable. Claimed, owned, like he was marking his territory, it made your stomach swirl with affection, enough to pick his head up by his hair and kiss him again.Â
Your hips rock, he whimpers. âT-too much, jagi, no.â
So warm, you glide against him, too slippery for there to be any resistance. The sound you make is small but it says everything you canât, that you need more, you arenât done.Â
âDâyou wanna sit on my face?" You hold his flushed cheeks instead, doe eyes staring up into his dilated pupils, begging. He shakes his head, âCanât fuck you again, canât.â
âPussy,â you smack your teeth, âare you serious?â
âIâll make you cum in under three,â he feeds you a peck of his lips, âpromise.â
âMommy?â
Both of your heads turn toward the staircase, the small voice that couldnât see you from the platform at the top. It takes all of a millisecond for you to push Wooyoung away from you and jump off the couch.
âComing!â You call, grabbing your shorts from the floor. Pulling them up your thighs, clenching hard to keep Wooyoung inside, you hiss at your ex, âDonât fucking leave, you owe me.â
âYes, mommy,â he nods, grin amused and lazy, âduty calls.â
You run up the stairs to find your brown-haired boy standing at the top, one of his fists rubbing at his eye, his favorite Frozen pajamas already pulled up and twisted at each and every hem. Before you have a chance to speak, he asks, âWhoâs here?â
âNo one,â you speak quietly, softly, turning him around by his shoulders, guiding him back into his bedroom. âCome on, baby, bed time.â
Five minutes of staring at the ceiling feels like a fucking lifetime until his tiny breaths turn slower, deeper. Creeping out of his bedroom once more, closing his door even softer than you did the first time, you nearly sprint down the steps to find Wooyoung still half-clothed.
âNow what if I brought him down here?â You stand before the couch, hands on your hips.Â
âWhy the hell would you do that?â He quips, leaning forward to grab you by the hips, pulling you back down to him. âHeâs asleep?â
âOut like a light,â you throw your arms over his shoulders, taking your spot in his lap. âYou promised me something.â
âIs that all Iâm good for?â His brows raise and the question takes you by surprise.
Wiping the smirk off your lips, your arms lower a little, disarmed. âSex?â
âYeah,â he sits up a little, shifting where you sat on his lap. âWeâve been sneaking around for over a month, I havenât pressed the date thing because youâve never been one to break your promises andââ
âYou were serious?â You push your brows up to your hairline, cutting him off. To make it clear, you repeat, âYou seriously want to take me on a date.â
His head cocks to the side, âYou didnât think I was serious? Of course I want to take you out.â
âWeâre divorced,â you argue, leaning back, adding space between you.
âIâm aware,â he says, as if he really means no shit. âYouâre on my lap right now, Iâm still dripping out of you, are you planning on fucking me after the sun goes down for the rest of our lives?â
âNot for the rest of our lives,â you shake your head a little, brows knitted together, confused.
âOh, then until youâre over it?â He blows amusement through his nose. âWe made a tiny human whoâs upstairs right now and Iâm suddenly disposable?â
âThatâs not what I meant,â you rub your palms over your face, sucking in a deep breath. âI just thought this was, like, an agreement. I didnât think either of us wanted anything more, Iâm sorry if I misread the situation.â
âWeâd have a chance to talk about it if you didnât kick me out as soon as you came.â
âWooyoung,â you gasp sharply, offended, âI do not do that.â
His brows raise, forgoing a verbal response. You think back on the past six weeks, remembering each and every night youâve shoved him out of your front door as soon as he pulled his pants up, the memories flash through your mind like a medley. Your lips flatten, cheeks heating, guilt and shame forming in the pit of your belly.Â
âIâm sorry,â you say quietly, just above a whisper.Â
âYou really donât want anything more?âÂ
He sounds wounded and your heart cracks beneath your ribs. His brows are upturned, mismatched eyes rounded out, pink lips still swollen from earlier almost pouting. You swallow, taking a second to be honest with yourself and your feelings⊠This works. The last six weeks have worked so effortlessly, so easily, youâve been spending your days bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so fulfilled you havenât even considered what comes next. If anything comes next.Â
âI havenât been this happy in awhile,â you reply honestly, âI think I donât want to fuck anything up, our sex life wasnât this consistent when we were still married, itâs nice.â
His fingers squeeze your hips, pulling you closer to him, a small smile forming on his full lips. âAll I want to do is take you out one time, jagi. We donât have to put any pressure on it, letâs just go out for dinner, have a few drinks and talk. Itâs been a long time since weâve just talked.â
It puts a smile on your face, too. You run a hand through his hair, locks of coal soft between your fingers, âOkay, letâs go this weekend.â
His face lights up, âReally?â
You snort, âYes, really. Iâll get a babysitter for Saturday andââ
âIâll bring him to Yunhoâs,â his hands slide up to your waist, under the hem of your tank, leaning forward until his chest brushes against you. âHe hasnât seen Aden in awhile, maybe they can have a sleepover.â
Your hands find the base of his neck, pulling him flush to you, âA sleepover?â
Wooyoungâs lips find yours, a small kiss, his hands traveling upward, cupping your breasts beneath your tank, âMaybe we can have a sleepover of our own.â
You gasp into his touch, brows furrowing in pleasure, âPlease.â
âYou can have me all night,â he reaches for the hem of your tank, pulling it swiftly over your head before his hands go right back to toying with your chest, pressing his thumbs over your nipples as he says, âWe can fuck in our big, comfortable bed, all night if you want to. Just like old times.â
You moan softly, quietly, head going fuzzy like heâd cast a spell on you, âLetâs go up there now.â
He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans forward, tongue poking out to circle over your nipple before his lips wrap around it, sucking harshly. You suck in a sharp gasp, face twisting in pleasure, hips grinding into him beneath you, âFuck, Wooyoung.â
âSaturday,â his voice is low, gravelly, it sends a shiver up your spine. âTonight you get to ride my face.â
You canât argue. Not when he brushes his nose over your spit-soaked nipple, giving you a perfect view of the curve of cartilage, already imagining bucking your hips against it.Â
Immediately youâre climbing off of his lap, pointing to the rug beneath your feet, âOn the floor.â
âWhatever you want, mommy.â
âDamn.â
Itâs loud enough for the neighbors to hear. On your porch, fist over his lips, his brows are scrunched like he canât believe his eyes, he looks you up and down three times before he whistles.Â
You snort, rolling your eyes, pulling your front door closed behind you. âShut up, Wooyoung.â
He steps backwards, down one of your cement stairs, watching as you bend over slightly to lock your front door. Voice amused, he continues, âAll dressed up for lilâ ole me? The dreaded ex?â
You turn around with a smile, âIâm keeping my word.â
His hand goes over his heart, frowning, âThat hurt.â
âShut up,â you shake your head, fighting your amusement as you move to step down, following him, he keeps his feet planted where he stands, an unmovable force.
Then he cracks a grin. âWhat, youâre not even gonna kiss me hello?â
You cross your arms over the front of your dress, sleek and red and hugging every inch of your body you want to be hugged. You got it on sale, an outfit youâve been saving for the right occasion, you canât believe tonight, of all nights, is the night you took it off the hanger.Â
You canât believe you pulled it out for Wooyoung.Â
âGood things come to those who wait,â you sing, âif youâre on your best behavior maybe youâll get a kiss goodnight.â
He groans, head tipping backward, eyes squeezing shut, âYouâre gonna make me hard.â
âI hate you,â you laugh, pushing on his chest, making him tumble backward a step. You follow him down the staircase, towards his still-running SUV in your driveway, âWhere are we going?â
He said to dress nice, two days ago in a short text-exchange that started off with you asking if he forgot to drop off Kyungminâs backpack, which you found in the corner of your living room approximately nine seconds later. Two texts back and forth before he reminded you of your date tonight, that heâd already made the plans with Yunho and Aurora, Kyungmin would stay over at their house tonight to have a sleepover with their son, Aden.
Yunho was Wooyoungâs friend from college, living only fifteen minutes from where you lived on the outskirts of the city, suburbia with a good school district, which is where Kyungmin had met their son, Aden, the second of four. You wondered how they did it, you had your hands tied with only one.Â
âItâs a surprise,â he walks to the passenger side, opening the door for you.Â
âWow,â you raise your brows, âsuch a gentleman. Who even are you anymore?â
He holds an arm out for you to grab as you climb in, âIâm just a husband taking his sexy ass wife out to dinner, thatâs all.â
âEx-husband,â you correct, âex-wife.âÂ
He leans against the door with a smile, âWhatever you say.âÂ
He looks good. Dress pants on his legs, tailored, all his dress pants are. A button-up, rolled up on his veiny forearms, showcasing his tattoo, the top two buttons undone. Dressed in all black so his golden skin gleams in each pocket where it shows, fuck he knows how to dress himself and God it pisses you off. His hair is styled, down, tucked behind his ears, it frames his face effortlessly, beautifully, part of you wants to ask if you can make a pit-stop in the backseat.
Itâs a thirty minute drive, filled with the same soft rock playing from his speakers, he talks over it the whole time. From Kyungmin to work to his apartment, which he nags at you that you still havenât seen the inside of, the conversation is as easy as it always is. Bickering, of course, but youâve been bickering since you were twenty-two. Fifteen years of partnership, of friendship, of learning each other down to particles and atoms, awkward silence has never existed between you.Â
A fancy restaurant, one that just opened in the city, dim lighting and red velvet and black leather, you couldnât tell if you were supposed to eat dinner or each other. Side-eyeing Wooyoung as the hostess brought you to your table, the moment she left you quirked a brow, âIs this foreplay?â
He grabs the drink menu, âIt can be if you want it to be.â
So shameless it makes your lips part. âAre we in a restaurant or a sex club?â
âIâm pretty sure itâs a restaurant,â he doesnât look up over the menu, âbut we could make it a sex club if you want to make it a sex club.â You snort, reaching over to steal the drink menu from his hands. He scoffs, âNo way youâre reading that as if you arenât gonna nurse one margarita until itâs tequila-water.â
âShut up,â you grumble, âmaybe Iâm in the mood for something different.â
You quickly scan the specials, the list of bottles they carry, different brands of wine they have. Pursing your lips, you quickly realize youâre not in the mood for something different.Â
Shoving the menu back into his hands, you mumble, âFine.â
He laughs, a high, amused giggle, âYouâre so predictable.â
âYou just know me,â you huff, ânot predictable.â
When the waiter comes by, Wooyoung not only orders his beer, but he orders your margarita, too. Casamigos, salt on the rim, you donât correct him because youâre as predictable as they come. Your cheeks heat up anyway, you might be predictable but he remembers and it sends a streak of heat up your spine. Whatever.Â
Youâre reading the menu, or trying to with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, seeing words but not ingesting any of them. Maybe you should just let him order your meal for you, too.
âWhatâs bothering you?â He asks, and you glance upward like heâs ripped you out of a trance.
You purse your lips, shaking your head a little, defensive. âNothing.â
âIâve known you for over a decade,â his lips curl at the corner, âIâve lived with you, Iâve loved you, youâre the mother of my son. Is it so crazy that I know you? One year spent apart out of fifteen is nothing.â
You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, you forgot he knows you down to your thoughts, too. A small sigh escapes you, âDo you wanna start now? Before thereâs even any food on the table?â
He leans forward, smile mischievous, âHey, thereâs bread.â
You push air out of your nose, amused as you sit back in the upholstered chair. âItâs just stupid. Weâve only been divorced for a year, and look at us. Weâre in a sex club that has a kitchen.â
His lips thin before he answers. âDid you really think weâd stay separated?"
âYes?â Your head tilts with the question. âDid you not?â
âNo,â he answers honestly, âIâve been working on myself a lot this past year. All the time spent away from you, Kyungie, itâs given me space that I never wanted. Space Iâve filled with things to better myself, for him, for you.â
âWhat, did you get a promotion or something?â You quirk a brow, âWork stuff?â
He smacks his teeth, âI went to therapy.â
âYou went to therapy?â Your brows meet your hairline, âLike, the couch and everything?â
âNo, she made me sit on the floor,â he muses. âShe actually has a brown, leather chair. She helped me figure a lot of my shit out, that way when it was time for me to propose the idea of us seeing each other again, itâd be different. Iâd be different.â
âWoo, I had no idea,â your heart picks up speed in your chest. âI didnât even know that you were this⊠bothered about us separating, to be honest.âÂ
His face scrunches up in disbelief, âThatâs bullshit.â
âIâm serious!â You argue, âThe divorce process was so smooth, I guess over time I got it in my head that it was smooth because it was mutual.â
âIt was never, not even for a second, mutual.â
âYou made it easy,â you shrug, picking up your margarita, taking a sip. âYou never told me the details, I only knew what I found out from your mother. She never mentioned therapy.â
âYou knew what I wanted you to know,â he sets his menu down in front of him. âItâs not like we were exactly on speaking terms, you didnât give me the opportunity to fix anything while we were still together, either.â
Your stomach churns. âI gave you a lot of chances, Wooyoung.â
âNot enough,â he argues, not sternly, earnestly. He picks up his beer. âYou gave up on me.â
âI gave up on being a single mother in my own marriage,â your voice is low, quiet. Your throat feels tight.Â
The waiter comes, Wooyoung orders for the both of you, something you wouldâve chosen for yourself. Your thoughts are too loud for you to pay it any mind.Â
âIâll have to live with the fact that I made you feel that way until the day I die,â his face is solemn, his words so honest your heart feels like stone in your chest. âBut I thought I was doing the right thing, setting us up for our future, setting our son up for his future. For a long time I couldnât understand why that wasnât enough for you.â
âBut you understand now?â
He nods, âStrangely enough, you making that deal with me at the conference, about having San speak, it mightâve been the final piece that put everything together. I feel like I can see it clearly now, and it feels so fucking stupid looking back.â
âYeah?â Your lips curve at the corners, âDid your therapist enjoy my ultimatum?â
âI think she thinks weâre childish,â he laughs a little, âshe doesnât say that, but I can kinda feel it. Like weâre still kids playing at being adults.â
âWe are,â your smile widens, âbut now I keep wipes and snacks in my purse instead of lipgloss and condoms that we never used.â
âDonât talk mommy to me right now,â his face scrunches together like you pressed your foot against his crotch. âWeâre still in public.â
You stare at him over the salt on the rim of your glass, taking a sip of your margarita before you mumble, âI donât think anyone here would be bothered.â
âI want to try again,â he wipes the smile off his face, voice a little louder, stronger. âJust to lay everything on the table, Iâve been wanting to try again and if a hookup at a work conference is the start of it unfolding, then so be it.â
You take a second before responding. âDo you really feel like I gave up on you?â
âYes,â thereâs no room for uncertainty, the agreement is crystal clear. âBut I know I pushed you to that point, and I know in the end it was my fault. I should have been around more to help you. Just to have been there.â
Your bottom lip quivers, he catches it as soon as the first twitch tugs at your mouth.
âNo, no crying,â he reaches his hand across the table, searching for yours. You tangle your fingers with his, his palm warm, fingers encasing your hand within his own perfectly like you were made for each other. âIf youâre open to trying again, to giving me another chance, itâll be different this time. Iâm different, but I still love you, I still want to be beside you.â
You wipe at your eyes before tears fall past your waterline, âI love you too, but I did my makeup for this.â
âAnd it looks beautiful,â his lips curve, âbut itâs just gonna get ruined later, anyway.â
âWhy would itââ You meet his eye, the mischievous glint. âOh, fuck you.â
âHopefully Iâm lucky and you will fuck me.â
âIs sex all you think about?â You laugh, then tease him, âIs that all Iâm good for?â
He glares across the table, âToo soon.â
âYouâre the one who said we were gonna roll around in my bed all night.â
âOnce upon a time, it was our bed,â he releases your fingers to point at you, âand I know itâs lonely in that big ass bed without me.â
âWhoâs to say Iâm lonely?â You taunt, âMaybe thereâs been plenty of men warming my bed since we separated.â
âYou,â he says it like itâs obvious, âat the conference you said there was no one else, so unless you lied, youâve spent over a year alone, in that bed, playing with yourself and wishing it was me.â
You think everyone in the restaurant could hear the gasp that erupted from your chest. Wooyoungâs head tips back in laughter and you curse under your breath, whisper-shouting, âWeâre in public, Jung Wooyoung.â
âThe mom-voice makes it funnier,â heâs still laughing, a hand over his mouth, âscolding me like Iâm five. Fuck, do you remember when Kyungmin drew all over the wall in the living room? With fucking Sharpies?â
You groan, digging your head into your palms, elbows propped up on the table. âStill to this day I fucking hate the feeling of Magic Erasers.â
âYou sounded just like that,â he takes a deep breath to control his laughter, then puts on his best you-voice to mock you. âJung Kyungmin, we color in coloring books, not on the walls.âÂ
The memory makes you smile, even laugh a bit under your breath, âItâs only funny now because I got the Sharpie off the wall.â
âIt was funny then, too, trust me.âÂ
The food comes hot and perfect, neither of you speak for the first few bites, until Wooyoung catches you staring at his plate, at his food. Mid-bite he pauses, popping a brow, âWant to try?â
You smile, and he smiles back, reaching over, fork in hand. The sound that leaves you is almost fitting for the restaurant youâre in. âI like yours,â you mumble, putting on your best doe-eyed look, making him snort.Â
âIâd be mad, but Iâm too nostalgic,â he hums, satisfied with a smile on his cheeks he reaches over to grab your plate, switching it with his own. âCan I pretend I ordered mine for the sole intent of giving it to you?â
âNo,â you hum happily, âitâs better that you gave yours to me. More romantic that way.â
He shakes his head, âFirst day back and youâre already spoiled.â
âTechnically I still havenât agreed,â you shrug, eyes on your food, about to take another bite before you realized Wooyoung had paused entirely. Looking over the table, you giggle at his deadpanned face, brows flat, lips flat, his entire face flat.Â
âNot funny.â He tightens his lips again. âAre you agreeing? Do you want to give me another chance?â
âIs this an immediate answer kind of thing?â You ask, food still halfway to your mouth, âOr can I get back to you on it?â
He purses his lips like heâs deciding the answer for himself before he gives you one. Eventually, when your bite is swallowed, he answers. âI guess you can think about it.â
âYou guess?â Facing your plate, your eyes flicker across the table.Â
âDo you understand how long Iâve been waiting?â He doesnât sound aggressive or forceful, or like heâs urging you towards an answer. âI had you for fifteen years and I just spent over an entire year without you.â
âYou say that like I didnât spend a year without you, too,â you argue, âyou arenât alone in that feeling, Wooyoung.â
âI just want my life back,â his voice settles into something just above a whisper, too raw for the crowded restaurant. âI want you, I want Kyungminnie, I want to come home.â
You swear you can see an entire year of pain in his eyes. Chocolate thatâs usually melted, milky sweet, a delicacy, is deepened into something dark; hardened with time spent apart, changed with a life lesson that needed to be felt in order to be learned. Heâs the same but heâs different, you can feel it, you know it.Â
All you can do is pray he doesnât disappoint you again.
He keeps his hand on your thigh the entire drive home.
Quiet for once, the calm before the storm, you use the silence to think about your time spent apart, how it affected you. He was right, alone in your king-sized bed, but more than that youâve learned so much about yourself in the year spent away from him. Kids fresh out of college, thrown into the workforce, pregnant before your first paycheck, court-signed documents without a big party to follow, your adult life has been spent entirely by his side.Â
Youâve learned strength. Youâve learned to trust yourself. Youâve come to fall in love with yourself, by yourself, the you that wasnât half-Jung. Despite the tears, the nights drowning in self-doubt, of not knowing what the next day would look like, you did it.Â
And now heâs back, and he promised that he changed.Â
You donât know whether or not to trust the tiny voice in the back of your mind, you donât know if itâs nerves or a gut-feeling. But when you turn your head to the side, to the man youâve spent fifteen years loving, adoring, his chiseled jaw and his curved nose and the veiny, tattooed forearm thatâs attached to the steering wheel, itâs easy to admit that you want him to come home, too.Â
You missed him. You miss him, and heâs beside you.Â
You miss him making the bed in the morning, having coffee on the pot downstairs, already prepped for you. You miss him shoveling the driveway in the winter, mowing the lawn in the summer. You miss him taking out the trash. You miss him fixing a toy when Kyungmin breaks it. You miss him doing your fucking taxes. You miss him doing the dishes after you cooked dinner, you miss him stealing the dishes out of your hands when he cooked dinner.
You miss the mundane things.Â
You miss the way he kisses you goodmorning, when he gets home from work, before bed, randomly, mid-day on a Saturday. You miss him making Kyungmin laugh. You miss the way his skin feels on yours, the way he finishes your thought before youâve finished it, the way he makes it so easy to believe that itâs possible to love another human so much.Â
You miss him present most of all.
âIf I agree,â you speak into the silence, his fingers add the slightest pressure onto your thigh. âYou swear youâll be around?â
âYes.â The word is final. âIâve made the changes already. Youâre my priority.â
You donât answer, you let the words sink in. Itâll take time, learning to believe him, learning to trust his words again, but something settles in your chest, in your gut, something calm. It reminds you that you can still be yourself, you can still be strong, you can still trust yourself, you can still be in love with yourselfâ but heâs here to love you, to trust you, to lean on you for strength, too. Thereâs something about it thatâs comforting, thatâs right.
The house is dark when you walk through your front door. You forgot to leave the lights on, the lamp in the corner of the living room, the one above the kitchen sink. So scatterbrained about being out with Wooyoung, about your kid sleeping at someone elseâs house, you huff a curse as soon as the darkness welcomes you home.Â
While you turn the lamp on, without a word heâs in the kitchen, turning on the other above the sink.Â
And for some reason thatâs enough.Â
Maybe itâs how he looks, doused in twilight, standing in the kitchen he designed. Shadows finding home in the structure of his face, the tattoo on his forearm, the veins that swirled around it, blending into the vines, rippling each thorn of the rose. Maybe it was just the fact that after all this time, seeing him here, in your kitchen that you left exactly how it was the day you kicked him out, reminded you just how deeply you love him. That even though youâve spent a year apart and youâve learned to love so much about yourself, the part of you that you love most, is the half of you thatâs him.Â
You hope he feels it as you kiss him, standing in the space between the two counters, the long, skinny walkway between the sink and the island. Your arms around his shoulders, his find your waist, sliding down to your hips, then behind you, taking two fistfuls of your ass.Â
You squeak into the kiss and he turns you, scooping under your thighs to lift you, placing your ass on the kitchen counter. You donât break the kiss, feet hooking around his back, fingers curling into his roots, tongue sliding between his lips like you were the one coming home.Â
He hikes your dress up, warm palms searing the skin beneath fabric, slipping under the hem just to rest there like he couldnât deny himself feeling you any longer. Youâre panting into his mouth, sizzling under his touch, you whisper, âI need you.â
He pulls away, putting an inch between your faces, âHere?â
âI donât care where,â your hands find his cheeks, holding him close, âI need you, Jung Wooyoung.â
His eyes flicker over your features like heâs reading your thoughts and it takes him all of a second for his fingers to dart to the hem of your dress. You lift yourself so it pools around your hips, reaching forward for his button-up, getting only three unbuttoned while his fingers work the button and zipper of his pants. Both of you panting, heartbeats uneven, your feet stretch to reach the opposite counter, palms planted on the one you sat on, shifting yourself to the edge as Wooyoung frees himself from his briefs.
Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips, tasting remnants of your lipstick and his saliva on your tongue. The lack of a rebuttal from him, of snarky, taunting commentsâ this was different than him filling you silently on your living room couch. One hand moves your thin, lace thong to the side as the other grips his length, prodding at your entrance, making you gasp.Â
He fills you quickly, slipping inside with barely any resistance, the two of you moaning out in relief and pleasure. He grumbles out a curse, reaching the hilt, hands finding your hips, fingers bruising into your skin.
âJagi,â he whispers. âWanna give you a baby.â
Your eyes meet his and heâs looking at you like youâre the only person in the world. Like nothing else matters except you and him, like the outside world melted away, like you havenât built and ruined a life between you. Like it was fifteen years ago and youâd just opened the first page of your love story.Â
âDo it, then,â you whisper back, eyes glossy, throat tight. âGive me one.â
âCan I?â He asks, face stone, as if you couldnât feel his cock twitch inside you. He wasnât asking permission, he was questioning the possibility.
Counting in your head, you wait a moment to reply, âYes. Slim, but yes.â
He grins ear to ear, that same shit-eating grin he wears when he gets what he wants whether he fights for it or not. Then he moves, a shallow, promising thrust, grinding into the deepest spot inside you, making you hiss out a curse.Â
âHave to fill you,â his eyes find your meeting, watching himself as he barely thrusts, keeping himself buried. âNice nâ deep. Make sure it takes.â
Your head dips backward, arching into him, skin catching on the glossiness of the counter youâd wiped down before you left the house. âPlease.â
He grunts, fingers searing your skin, picking up his pace. âFuck, need to see you pregnant. Belly full of my fuckinâ kid.â
âWooyoung,â your voice is breathy, shaky, full of arousal as you moan his name, it makes him grunt out a curse, hips slapping against yours, reverberating through the room, bouncing off the stainless steel appliances.Â
His hands on your hips use the strength of his arms to lift you, pulling you off the counter with too much fucking ease. He slips out of you before your feet hit the floor, but heâs back inside you as soon as your back presses against the cool wood of the kitchen floor, freshly mopped this morning, knowing heâd be here tonight.Â
His lips are on yours, your legs hooked over his back, panties thrown somewhere you didnât care to see. His shirt is open, still over his shoulders, trapping you between the open panels like it was shading you from something, anything that wasnât him.Â
His hair feels silken between your fingers as you tug at his roots, keeping him as close as possible, never close enough. Murmuring words into each otherâs lips, the sound of his skin hitting yours muted it, like the two of you were stuck in a time-warp, a lovesick bubble you entered fifteen years ago.Â
Pressure builds with each thrust, your moans growing in pitch, and Wooyoung keeps his eyes on yours, his bottom lip touching yours, assessing, watching, feeling, waiting for you to crest your peak without any stimulation to your clit. His eyes flare when your breathing catches, keeping his rhythm unfaltering, his angle locked, muttering yes, yes as you approach the high only he can give you.Â
He groans when he feels the pressure blow, as you clench around him, the heels of your feet digging into his back, he catches your lips between his own to feel everything, all of it, all of you.Â
The silence says everything. Youâre stuck in euphoria as his cock drags over that same spot inside you, his head dropped down to your shoulder, your nails clawing at his back as he takes you for everything youâre worth. Every drop of pleasure, every emotion, you handed everything over to him, put it in his palms, let him cradle itâ had you ever even taken it back for yourself?
âGonna give you a baby,â he mutters into your skin, voice jagged like the edge of a blade, a man slicing a promise into your skin. âGonna give you a girl this time. Pretty like her mama.â
âYes,â itâs a whimper, a plea. âI love you, pleaseâ I love you.â
He grunts, heavy and rough, hips smacking yours with fervor, picking up his pace, weighting his thrusts. He picks up his head, palms finding your cheeks, holding your scrunched up face between them before he presses his mouth to yours, and you can taste the I love you too on his tongue.
Into his mouth, weak, soft, you utter, âI missed you.â
And why the admittance brought tears to your eyes, you arenât sure. But they fell to his thumbs and he seemed to understand even if you didnât, kissing you deeper, tongue slotting into your mouth as if he was soothing your scars.Â
He finished inside you with a low grunt that vibrated through you and into the hardwood beneath, cock hilted, buried so deep you werenât sure where you ended and he began. You wanted to stay there, full of him, in the bubble youâd fucking missed being in, but his phone ringing on top of the counter had you both moving before you could breathe.Â
âYunho,â is all he said before he pressed the phone up to his ear, still panting, brows furrowed. You stood up, dress falling over your hips, thighs wet and legs jelly, you leaned an arm over the counter for stability, silent enough to hear Yunho on the line.
Yeah, he threw up⊠Asking for you⊠Rory took his temp, he has a fever⊠Heâs on the couch now⊠Okay, see you soonâŠ
Wooyoung hung up with a sigh, âRain check for rolling around in our bed?â
You cracked a smile, âWhatâs your schedule looking like on Monday?â
Wooyoung snorts as he tucks himself into his slacks, fingers working his buttons, âIâll drive.â
Aurora had the door open before youâd made it up the steps of their front porch. âSorry for cutting the date night short.âÂ
Her sad smile was full of apology, she had one arm on the door as she held it open for the two of you. Pajama pants on her legs, slippers on her feet, her oversized tee that said Nasara University had one shoulder cut off. Hair tied in a bun on top of her head, bare-faced, so effortlessly gorgeous you felt self-conscious even if you were still in your red dress.
âThanks for taking care of him, Ro,â Wooyoung replies. âYunho said heâs on the couch?â
Ro. A nickname you havenât heard before. Storing the info for later, you followed Wooyoung inside, taking note that their house was full of everything warm and cozy. Toys littered the floor, picture frames on the walls, nothing was tidy or put together. Not dirty, but⊠Lived in. Like six people lived here and not one of them was hiding the fact. The TV on and playing an old cartoon from when you were all kids, three out of Yunho and Auroraâs four sat on the living room floor just before Kyungmin who was curled up on the couch, blanket covering his body.Â
You stayed back while Wooyoung crossed the room, saying hi to the kiddos before scooping Kyungmin up in his arms. Aurora spoke while you watched him, âYunhoâs upstairs with the baby, she woke up when the kids started screaming about throw up.â
âSorry,â you scratched the back of your head, cheeks flaring heat. You hoped you didnât smell like sex. You also hoped she wasnât thinking about the fact that you and Wooyoung are divorced and together right now.Â
But she just waved her hand, âPlease, donât be. Sheâs a terrible sleeper anyways, and all four of them were playing dress up in Juneâs room. She was bound to wake up sooner or later.â
âDress up?â You cracked a smile.Â
âJune has the time of her life dressing up her siblings,â she smiled with you, âand I think Aden enjoys it more than she does. They call it Fashion Runway, and Kyungmin was the star tonight, just so you know. June and Aden said heâs their new muse.â
You snort, not a lick of surprise on your face, âI need to see this.â
âYou guys should come over more,â she offers, looking at Wooyoung as he returns with your gray-faced sonâs head on his shoulder. âWe should do the things the cool families do, hangout while the kids hangout, conjoined vacations and shit. We live so close and we never do anything.â
You look at Wooyoung who nods like he was brushing her off. âYeah, sure. Donât you wanna wait tilâ Sunnie gets a little older?â
Her brows furrow, âNo?â
âSunnieâs a cute name,â you turn to her. âI didnât know that was her name. How old is she?â
âHer first birthday is next month, I invited you guys, he didnât tell you?â Her brows furrow further as you shake your head. Her eyes thin as she glances at Wooyoung, âSunnieâs short for Woosun. Named after her godfather who apparently doesnât want to come to her first birthday party.â
You will your face into staying neutral, like you knew Wooyoung was Auroraâs daughterâs godfather. âWoosunâs a gorgeous name.â
âYunho came up with it,â her smile is proud, and if she could see yours, the one youâre hiding behind your stone features, you think she might be terrified of you. Your eyes find Wooyoungâs and he looks as gray as Kyungmin, face dropped, fear rippling in his chocolate brown eyes.Â
âThanks again for taking care of him, Aurora.â You barely hear her response as she gives you a side-hug. She smells clean, like grapefruit and vanilla, a hint of baby formula like sheâd just finished feeding Woosun. Woosun.Â
You donât speak until after Wooyoung buckles in Kyungmin, your son still somehow knocked out in the backseat, head lolled to the side. Wooyoung tugged on the seatbelt twice, making sure it was locked, keeping him in place. You see the glitter on him then, on his eyelids, his cheeks, his hair, heâs in clothes that arenât is. God, did he throw up on his own clothes? You didnât even notice, nor did you ask for his clothes back. Youâd have Wooyoung text her tomorrow.
Seated in the driverâs, he flips the engine, eerily quiet. Waiting for you. So you start.Â
âI thought Yunho was your friend from college.â
He takes a steadying breath before he speaks, âHe was, is. But Iâve always been friendlier with Ro.â
âRo,â you repeat, lips scrunching together. Your head shakes slowly, âDefine friendlier.â
âBaby, we went to college togetherââ
âDonât baby me,â you snap, keeping your voice quiet to not wake up your son, âyou just tried to give me a daughter and then I find out youâre the godfather of someone elseâs?â
âI was going toââ
âYou were going to tell me nothing,â you snap again, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. âYou used to fuck her, then? In college? Is that why weâve never hung out with them?â
âIt was more than that,â his voice is defensive, curt. Your lips snap shut, eyes widening a fraction. âWe were together for a while, but it was⊠complicated. Everything about that time was complicated.â
âShe named her fucking kid after you,â your voice is quiet but not any less venomous. âYou know everything about me. Everything. And after fifteen years, Iâd expect to know everything about you. Why keep it a secret?â
He keeps his eyes on the road, even if they blaze with emotion; fear, guilt, shame, remorse. âI donât know if I can even explain it, sheâsâ sheâs special. Different from a girlfriend or a hookup, we went through a lot of tough shit together.â
Eyes widening further, throat tightening, you can taste the salt lining your eyes. Your voice comes out hoarse, âSheâs so special that you couldnât tell your wife about her?â
âThereâs nothing I could say that wouldnât make you feel like this. Sheâs married, happily, with four kids. If you knew our history you wouldnât want me around her.â
âAnd thatâs more important? Being around her? Than me knowing the truth?â
âNo,â he shakes his head tight. âNo, itâs not. I spent a lot of time at their house while we were separated, and the three of us got really close againââ
âSo thatâs why she said we should all hangout,â you laugh a little, itâs dry, lacking amusement. âShe wants to know what the wicked ex-wife that divorced you is like.â
âNo,â he counters, voice raising, exasperated. âI never said anything bad about you, fuck. After the conference I talked to them, and she needs a girlfriend. I basically pimped you out to her, to be her friend.â
âPimped me out to a girl you used to date. Fuck. Go through tough shit with.â
âWe werenât close during our marriage,â he argues, eyes flickering up to check on the still-sleeping Kyungmin through the rear-view mirror. âI sought them out after you divorced me, I needed a friend, and I knew Kyungmin and Aden were in the same class, Iâ they helped me.â
âYour ex-girlfriend and her husband helped you. Did they invite you into their bed? Help take your mind off your sad, divorced heart?â
âIâm not going to talk until you stop seeing red. Calm down and then speak to me like an adult.â
Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the window, and let the tears fall.Â
Kyungmin lay on the couch, asleep again after another round of emptying the contents of his stomach into the same stained bowl you use for popcorn on movie nights. You and Wooyoung sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, staring at him. So small, his face looks so peaceful, in a deep, hopefully dreamless sleep. He changed your lives eight years ago. Forced you into an adulthood you werenât prepared for, the greatest blessing you didnât ask for. A gift.Â
âThink he has the flu?â Wooyoung asks after too long of staring at the boy you created in silence. His hands stretched behind him, legs in front of him, body sagged with exhaustion. Itâs been a long day.
âMaybe a stomach bug,â you reply through a sigh, sitting with your arms curled around your knees. âTime will tell. If his feverâs still up tomorrow, Iâll take him to the doctor.â
âIâll come with you.â
âYou donât need to.â
âIâm his father, I want to.â
You swear, itâs grumbled, irritated. You can still feel the stickiness between your thighs, almost like itâs taunting you now. Telling you good job, you get to have another baby with a liar!
 âI didnât mean for this to happen.â Wooyoungâs voice is grave. âAurora is harmless. I donât love her, Iâm not into her, thereâs nothing left between us but friendship.â
âYouâre missing the point, Wooyoung. Itâs not about her, itâs about the fact that you kept it from me for fifteen years.â
âIt wasnât relevant for fifteen years. But itâs relevant now, and Iâm telling you.â
âBecause you were put in a situation where you had to tell me,â your head snaps to the side, glaring at him. âYou should have told me when we had the whole exes conversation over a decade ago, or maybe when you found out Aden was in the same class as Kyung, or when she named her daughter after you, or when she made you the fucking godfather. You had a million-and-one chances to tell me.â
Wooyoung sighs, âIt was a wound I didnât want to reopen back then, but I should have. Iâm sorry.â
âIt feels wrong,â you look back at Kyungmin, a frown on your lips. âKnowing you had a relationship with these people deep enough for them to name their child after you, and I donât know any of it. It makes me feel like I donât know you, like thereâs a side of you that youâve kept from me all these years.â
âDo you want to know the full story?â He glances sideways, and the look you give him is an obvious yes. He sighs, âFuck. Alright.âÂ
And you sit there, for an entire hour as he reveals a side of himself that youâve never gotten a glimpse of. Partying, threesomes, Aurora, menâ so many men, and even though that part didnât take you by surprise, it did make you wonder. The tough shit was about her, Yunho surprisingly, her father, her own personal issues that Wooyoung had adopted like his own and helped her through. Living with his cousin, switching his major, supporting his mother, all the fucked up people who went to his university that married each other. You wondered how well they turned out.Â
âHer and Yunho, made for each other. Their kids were a blessing, and they started younger than we did. Then kept fucking going.â
It made you laugh a little, and as the sound hit his ears, he finally cracked a small smile. Glancing at you, he muttered, âI did love her, I loved everything about her. But our relationship, me in her life, it was for a purpose, yâknow? And when it was fulfilled, after Iâd done what I was⊠destined to do or whatever, her life got a lot better. She got better. Everything got better, actually.â
âYou were all too young for all of that shit.â Itâs all you could say. All you could muster up seeing Wooyoungâs life twenty years ago pass through his eyes, listening to him describe it like it happened yesterday.Â
âI know,â he heaved a sigh, laying back on his elbows. âBut then I met you and I thought it was my turn to be happy. To feel like I had it all figured out.â
âThen I got pregnant.â
He laughed, a rich, light sound. âThen you got pregnant.â He sat in silence for a moment, glancing at your son on the couch, before he bit his lip in contemplation. âI have something else to tell you. Since weâre being honest.â
Your heart dropped, skin feeling icy-hot. Nervously glancing at him, your voice comes out shaky as you ask, âWhat?â
âWeâre still married.âÂ
You blinked. âNo weâre not.â
âYes we are.â
Fingers meeting the floor on either side of you, you shook your head, warning, âWooyoung.â
âThatâs why the divorce process was so easy,â he isnât looking at you, his eyes stay on Kyungmin, unblinking. âBecause I never filed for it.â
âI filed for it,â you counter.
âWith my lawyer,â his eyes meet yours. âWho I paid generously not to file.â
âWhat? Iââ
The walls felt like they were closing in. He continued, âI thought it was hasty. That you would regret it, or that you didnât mean it, or that Iâd fix it, I donât know. I couldnât stomach the idea of us not being together, so I faked it.â
âYou pay me child-support, Wooyoung.â
âI know,â he shrugs, lips thin. âI just⊠I donât know. I didnât think weâd stay apart forever.â
You stare at him for a moment, a thunderstorm brewing beneath your skin. âGet out.â
His head snaps to the side, eyes wide, âWhat?â
âGet out,â you repeat, firmer. âGet the fuck out.â
âWaitâ Let me explain, Iââ
âJung Wooyoung get the fuck out of my house.â
âI love you,â he argues, voice strained, turning his entire body to face you as you start standing up. âWith my entire heart and soul. I canât live without you any longer, without him, please talk to meâ please talk this out, pleaseââ
âIâm filing first thing tomorrow morning,â you bite, voice so fucking harsh and venemous you canât believe it came from your lips. âWith a different lawyer, my own fucking lawyer. You better hope and pray that Iâm not fucking pregnant.â
Just so you know @minkieater I will be forwarding my therapy bill đđïżŒI love how you linked the stories cause the way my jaw dropped when I saw Nasara University, I was like ainât no way this the same Rory đđđ
Summary: Hwang Hyunjin didnât do seconds or thirds after a hookup which is why you thought fucking him once would get him to leave you alone. You were wrong, he came back twice during the summer after that one time during the spring semester and now youâve got a Hwang Hyunjin stuck on you like a lost, lovesick puppy. Hyunjinâs on a mission to sabotage every date you go on until you admit that you two are perfect for each other. You tell him heâs being a stalker, he says heâs being persistent and dedicated and youâre just being dramatic.
Warnings: Certified loverboy/Munch!Hyunjin, uni student!hyunjin x TA grad student!f.reader, implied curve/plus size reader, Hyunjin has some morally grey traits that you overlook because you lowkey like that shit and you just as much as a simp for him, smut! MDNI! Multiple sex scenes/rounds, unprotected sex, oral (m.&f.rec), slight exihibitionism, car sex,public sex, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub/switch dynamics, Hyunjin was a kiwi when they first hooked up, nicknames: Hyune, baby,Simp/munch(his), Muse(this is cannon atp), pussy-fairy, baby etc (hers), as usual I might have missed something.
W.C: 17.7k
You had thought fucking Hyunjin would get him to leave you alone. He never went back for seconds from what you had heard around campus and the kidâs been nagging youânot really because you do enjoy his company sometimesâsince you TAâd one of his English Foundation classes last fall.
You figured he just wanted to try sex with a big girl given what you knew his usual hookups looked like.So, after one particularly shitty presentationâwith a lecturer that you were sure hated youâyou invited him over.
What you hadnât planned on was having Hwang Hyunjin stuck on you like a lost puppy after one fuck; okay, maybe twoâŠthree times. Once in late spring, twice over the summer when he somehow kept showing up at places you frequented and now itâs the fall semester again and Hyunjin has found every opportunity to be in your bubble even befriending your friends Minho, Chan and Changbin.
âYahhh! Hwang Hyunjin, you canât keep doing this to me.â You groan as you push open your apartment door with him hot on your trail. This is the third date since the semester started that heâs run off.
âI donât see why you need to be going on dates when Iâm literally right here, ready and willing to do all that Muse.â
âThatâs not the point Hyune.â
âItâs not? Iâm hot, youâre hot. The sex is an incredibly hot bonus but at least you know it wonât be subpar and Iâll actually get you off. All you gotta do is say yes, Iâm very persistent.â He smiles.
You drop your bag on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary, the thud punctuating your frustration. Hyunjin closes the door behind himâof course he follows you insideâand leans against it with that infuriating confidence that probably works on everyone else.
âPersistent is one word for it,â you mutter, yanking open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Anything to avoid looking at him right now, at the way his hair falls perfectly even after heâs been trailing you across campus, at how his shirt rides up slightly when he crosses his arms. âStalker is another.â
âDramatic.â He pushes off the door and you can hear the smile in his voice as he moves closer. âI prefer âdedicated.ââ
You spin around, pointing the water bottle at him like a weapon. âYou literally interrupted my date at the restaurant, Hyunjin. You sat down at our table and ordered food.â
âThe guy was boring you to tears. I could see it from across the room.â
âYou were across the room watching me? Do you hear yourself right now?â
ââand I saw you doing that thing you do when youâre trying to be polite but youâd rather be anywhere else.â He tilts his head, studying you with those dark eyes that got you into this mess in the first place. âThat little fake laugh, the way you keep checking your phone under the table. You did it in Professor Kimâs lecture last spring too, remember?â
âThat doesnât give you the right to crash my dates, Hyune. We hooked up. Past tense. Thatâs it.â
âSee, you keep saying that.â He leans forward, elbows on his knees and the air between you shifts into something heavier. âBut your body language says something different. The way you let me walk you home. How you havenât kicked me out yet. How youâve already called me âHyuneâ twice in the last five minutes.â
Fuck. You hadnât even noticed.
âIââ You falter, gripping the water bottle tighter. âThatâs just habit.â
âIs it?â He slides off the counter, moving into your space slowly, giving you every chance to step back. You donât. âBecause I think you like having me around. I think you keep going on these shitty dates hoping one of them will make you stop thinking about me, about us.â
âThere is no us.â
âThere could be.â His voice drops lower, softer, and suddenly youâre very aware of how close he is, how warm your apartment feels. âJust say yes, Muse. One real date. Let me take you somewhere, treat you right, show you Iâm not just some college kid looking for a hookup.â
âYou ran off three of my dates, Hyunjin.â
âBecause they werenât good enough for you.â No hesitation, no shame. âAnd I am. Let me prove it.â
Your heart hammers against your ribs, treacherous thing that it is. You should say no. Should maintain the boundaries you set months ago when you decided sleeping with him was a lapse in judgment.
But god, the way heâs looking at you right nowâlike youâre the only thing in the world worth his attentionâmakes it really hard to remember why those boundaries existed in the first place.
âOne date,â you hear yourself say, and his face lights up like youâve given him the moon. âBut if you fuck this upââ
âI wonât.â Heâs grinning now, that devastating smile that should come with a warning label. âYou wonât regret this.â
âI already do,â you lie but youâre smiling too and from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, he knows it.
You turn your back to him as you head towards your bedroom to change out of your clothes. You know heâs going to follow you and follow he does, making himself comfortable at the foot of your bed leaning back on his arms in that lazy confident way he has while you strip out of the layers of clothes youâd been wearing.
âYouâre staring, Hwang.â
âCan you blame me?â
âAnnoying fucker.â
âYeah, but you like me though.â and you donât even have to look at him to know heâs grinning or smirking. âCâmere, muse.â
âDonât use that tone of voice,â
âWhy? Does it make you wet?â
You pause mid-motion, your shirt halfway over your head, heat crawling up your neck that has nothing to do with the layers youâre peeling off. âHyunjinââ
âThatâs not an answer.â His voice is lower now, teasing but edged with something darker that makes your stomach flip.
You yank the shirt off completely and toss it at him. He catches it easily, bringing it to his face with an exaggerated inhale that makes you roll your eyes even as your pulse quickens.
âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd youâre avoiding the question.â The bed shifts as he adjusts his position before he speaks again. âCome here, Muse.â
There it is againâthat voice, the one thatâs all command wrapped in honey, the one that got you into trouble the first time. You should tell him to back off, remind him that one date doesnât mean he gets to waltz back into your bed like nothingâs changed.
But your body has other ideas, already responding to his proximity, to the memory of his hands on your skin.
âThis wasnât part of the deal,â you say but your voice comes out breathier than intended as you turn to face him.
Heâs still on your bed, leaning back with that infuriating smirk playing at his lips, eyes tracking every inch of you like heâs memorizing the view. âWhat deal? I just want you closer. We can just talk.â
âYou donât want to talk.â
âMaybe not.â He reaches out, fingers ghosting over your wrist. âBut Iâll take whatever youâre willing to give me. Even if thatâs just you sitting here, telling me about your terrible date while I try very hard to behave myself.â
You snort despite yourself. âYou? Behave?â
âI can be good when properly motivated.â His thumb traces circles on your inner wrist and goddamn if that simple touch doesnât make you want to forget every reason this is a bad idea. âSo, whatâs it gonna be? You gonna keep pretending you donât want this, or are you gonna stop overthinking for once and let yourself have something good?â
You donât know what possesses you to do it but you wrap your hands around his throat and tilt his head back just a little so heâs looking up at you. What you donât expect is the moan that slips out of his mouth along with the way his grip tightens on both of your ass cheeks.
âYouâre playing with fire, Muse.â
His pupils are blown wide, dark and wanting, and the way his breath hitches under your palms sends a thrill straight through you. You tighten your grip just slightlyânot enough to hurtâjust enough to feel his pulse jumping against your fingers.
âMaybe I want to get burned,â you murmur, watching the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
âFuck,â he breathes and his hands slide higher, pulling you closer until youâre standing between his spread thighs. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, gripping like he canât get enough and thereâs something about the way he touches youâlike every curve is exactly what he wantsâthat makes your breath catch. âYou canât justâŠMuse, if you keep touching me like that, Iâm not gonna be able to keep my promise about behaving.â
âDid I ask you to behave?â
Something shifts in his expression; surprise giving way to hunger, that cocky facade cracking just enough to show you the desperate want underneath. Itâs intoxicating, this power you have over him, the way someone so confident turns pliant under your touch.
âYouâre killing me,â he groans but heâs tilting his head back further, offering himself up. âMonths. Months of you ignoring me, going on dates with other people, pretending those nights didnât change everythingââ
âIt was just three nights,â you say, squeezing just a little harder and his moan is obscene.
âThree perfect nights that I canât stop thinking about.â His hands slide from your ass to your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. âThe way you look on top of me, the sounds you make, how your thighs feel wrapped around my headââ He cuts himself off with a shudder as your thumb traces along his jawline. âPlease, Muse. Put me out of my misery. Tell me Iâm not crazy, that you feel this too.â
You could still walk away. Should walk away. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid; getting tangled up with Hwang Hyunjin and his persistent attention, his ability to make you forget every logical reason this is complicated.
But God, the way heâs looking at you right now, like youâre everything he wantsâŠ
âYouâre not crazy,â you admit quietly and watch his face transform with relief and triumph and raw need. âBut youâre still annoying.â
âYeah?â His hands slide under the waistband of your pants, palms hot against bare skin. âWanna shut me up about it?â
Your fingers flex on his throat and before you know it the world tilts and suddenly your back hits the mattress, the air rushing from your lungs. The switch happens so fast your head spins or maybe thatâs just the way heâs looking down at you under him with his hand around your throat; eyes dark with promise and that damn smirk that makes your thighs clench.
âKnow you missed your favorite necklace.â He says with a grin and a flex of his fingers.
His hand spans your throat perfectly, thumb resting against your pulse point like heâs counting each racing beat. The weight of it, the controlled pressure, sends liquid heat pooling low in your belly.
âThere she is,â he murmurs, leaning down until his lips brush your ear. âBeen wondering how long youâd make me wait to see you like this again.â
You should probably say something cutting, remind him heâs getting ahead of himself, that agreeing to one date doesnât meanâ
But then his fingers flex, just enough pressure to make your breath catch and coherent thought becomes a distant memory. Your hands fly up to grip his wrist, not to push away but to anchor yourself as your body arches involuntarily beneath him.
âFuck, I missed this,â he breathes against your neck, his free hand sliding down your side, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip. âMissed the way you melt for me the second I get my hands on you. All that attitude justâŠgone.â
âHyunjinââ His name comes out strangled, needy, and you hate how desperate you sound. Hate more that heâs right about all of it.
âYeah, baby?â Another flex of his fingers, his thigh pressing between yours. âStill think those other guys could give you what I can? Still think you need anyone else when youâve got me?â
Your nails dig into his wrist and he groans, low and dirty. âThatâs my girl. Mark me up, Muse. Want everyone to know exactly who I belong to.â
âPossessive bastard,â you gasp out but your hips are already rolling against his thigh, seeking friction.
âOnly for you.â His mouth finds that spot below your ear that makes you whimper. âSay youâre mine. Say those dates were bullshit and you want me.â
âYouâreâahâso fucking cockyââ
âBecause Iâm right.â His hand tightens fractionally, and stars burst behind your eyelids. âNow answer the question, or I stop.â
âStop and Iâll never give you head again. Know you like that thing I do with my tongue before I take it all the way in.â You grin.
He freezes above you and you feel the full-body shudder that runs through him at the memory. His hand loosens just slightly on your throat as he pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.
âThatâs playing dirty, Muse.â
âYou started it,â you shoot back, running your tongue along your bottom lip deliberately. His gaze tracks the movement like a starving man watching food. âWhat was it you said last time? That no oneâs everââ
âDonât.â His voice comes out strangled, hips pressing harder against you. âFuck, you canât justâthat thing you do, that fucking swirling before youâJesus Christ.â
The power shift is delicious. For all his cockiness, all his control, you know exactly how to unravel him. Youâve done it before, watched him fall apart with his hands fisted in your hair, saying your name like a prayer, telling you how good you look on your knees with your mouth stretched around him.
âSo maybe,â you say, walking your fingers up his chest, âyou should reconsider your ultimatums. Because I can be just as stubborn as you, Hwang Hyunjin, and I know all your weaknesses now.â
He drops his forehead to yours with a breathless laugh. âYouâre evil. Absolutely fucking evil.â
âYou like it.â
âI love it,â he corrects and something in his voice makes your heart stutter. Too honest, too raw. He catches it immediately, tries to cover with that cocky grin. âLove how you think youâre in control right now when we both know how this ends.â
âOh? Howâs that?â
His hand slides from your throat to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your lips. âWith you saying my name so loud your neighbors complain. Again.â He punctuates it with a roll of his hips that has you gasping. âBut first, youâre gonna answer my question. Those datesââ
âWere boring,â you admit, because fuck it, heâs not going to let this go. âHappy?â
âGetting there.â His smile is pure sin. âNow tell me youâre mine.â
âMake me.â
The words are barely out of your mouth before his eyes go molten, that pretty face transforming into something predatory and hungry. His hand slides back to your throat, not squeezing, just possessive.
âOh, Muse,â he says, voice dropping an octave that goes straight between your thighs. âYou really shouldnât have said that.â
Before you can respond with something appropriately bratty, he captures your mouth in a kiss thatâs all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up frustration. Itâs not gentleâHyunjinâs never been gentle when heâs like this, wound up and desperateâand you wouldnât want it any other way.
âMonths,â he growls against your lips, kissing down your jaw. âMonths of watching you pretend you donât think about this.â His teeth graze your pulse point and you gasp. âWatching you go on dates with guys who couldnât possibly know what you need.â
His free hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing at the waistband of your pants. He doesnât move to remove them yet, just traces patterns that make your hips lift involuntarily.
âHyuneââ
âShh,â he soothes, but thereâs nothing gentle about the way heâs looking at you. âYou wanted me to make you admit it, right? Thatâs what this is?â He pops the button of your pants with practiced ease. âLet me remind you exactly what youâve been missing.â
âYouâre such an asshole,â you manage but it comes out breathless.
âMaybe.â He drags the zipper down slowly, torturously. âBut you like it. Like when I call you out on your bullshit.â His fingers slip just beneath the waistband of your underwear, not touching where you need him yet, just teasing. âLike when I donât let you hide.â
You dig your nails into his shoulders through his shirt, trying to pull him closer but he resists. That damn smirk is back.
âPatience, pretty baby. Weâve got all night and Iâm gonna take my time reminding you exactly why you canât stop thinking about me.â
âCockyââ The word cuts off in a moan as his hand finally, finally slides lower, cupping you through the thin fabric. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit and your vision goes hazy.
âWhat was that?â He does it again, watching your face. âCouldnât quite hear you over all those pretty sounds youâre making.â
âI said youâreâfuckââ He adds pressure and your argument dissolves entirely.
âThatâs what I thought.â His mouth finds that spot below your ear. âYou can act tough all you want, Muse, but your body tells me everything I need to know.â
He hooks his fingers in your waistband but doesnât pull down yet. Just waits, making you squirm.
âTell me you want this,â he murmurs against your neck. âTell me those dates were bullshit attempts to forget about us.â
âThere is no usââ
He pulls his hand away entirely and you actually whimper at the loss. His answering laugh is dark and knowing.
âNo? Then I guess you donât need me toââ
âDonât you dare.â You grab his wrist, pulling his hand back and his eyes light up with victory.
âThen say it.â He starts pulling your pants down, slowly, watching you the whole time. âSay you thought about me while you were out with them. Say you compared them to me and they didnât measure up.â
The worst part is heâs right. Every single date, youâd found yourself thinking about Hyunjin; the way he laughs at your terrible jokes, how he brings you coffee during your TA sessions without being asked, the way he looks at you like youâre the most fascinating thing in the world.
And yeah, the sex. Definitely the sex.
âThey were boring,â you finally admit, lifting your hips so he can slide your pants and underwear down your legs. The cool air makes you shiver, or maybe thatâs just the way heâs looking at you, like he wants to devour you whole.
âBoring,â he repeats, tossing your clothes somewhere behind him. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping the soft flesh there, spreading you wider. âJust boring?â
âHyunjin, pleaseââ
âPlease what?â He settles between your legs but doesnât touch you yet. Just looks, and the hunger in his eyes makes you clench around nothing. âI want to hear you say it, Muse. Want to hear you admit that thisââ he finally drags one finger through your wetness, and you gasp, ââis all for me.â
âYouâre the worst,â you breathe but your hips chase his touch.
âYeah?â He circles your clit once, twice, before pulling away again. âThe worst, but youâre soaking for me anyway. Been like this all night, havenât you? Sitting across from that guy, being polite, while thinking about what I could do to you instead.â
You want to deny it, but he chooses that moment to slide two fingers inside you, curling them exactly right and the truth spills out in a broken moan.
âThere she is.â His voice is reverent now, awed. âFuck, I missed this. Missed watching you fall apart for me.â He sets a rhythm that has your back arching, your hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets. âMissed the way you get so wet, so ready. Like your body knows exactly who it belongs to even when youâre being stubborn about it.â
âNotâahâyours,â you try, but itâs weak even to your own ears.
His thumb finds your clit and you nearly sob. âNo? Then why are you grinding on my hand like youâre desperate for it? Whyâd you let me follow you home, let me in your apartment, your bedroom?â He leans down, breath hot against your ear. âWhy havenât you kicked me out yet, baby?â
Because you canât. Because despite every logical reason for why this is a bad idea, you want him. Have wanted him since that first night when heâd looked at you like you were everything, touched you like you were precious, fucked you like you were the only thing that mattered.
âSay it,â he demands, adding a third finger that has you seeing stars. âSay youâre mine and Iâll give you everything you need. Make you come so hard you forget every other guyâs name.â
âFuckâHyunjinâI canâtââ
âYou can.â His fingers speed up, hitting that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake. âCome on, Muse. Stop being stubborn and just admit it. Admit you want this, want me, want us.â
Heâs relentless and you can feel your orgasm building, pressure coiling tight in your belly. Your hands find his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan.
âThatâs it,â he encourages, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit. âTake what you need, baby. Show me how good I make you feel.â
Youâre so close, teetering on the edge and he knows it. Can probably feel it in the way youâre clenching around his fingers, the way your breathing has gone ragged.
âJust say it,â he coaxes, softer now but no less demanding. âThree little words and Iâll make you come. Thatâs all, Muse. Just tell me the truth.â
Pride wars with desperation but your body makes the decision for you; arching into his touch, chasing the release only he seems capable of giving you.
âYours,â you finally gasp out. âIâm yours, okay? Happy now?â
His smile is blinding, triumphant, before his mouth crashes into yours. âSo fucking happy,â he murmurs against your lips and then his fingers curl just right and youâre gone, falling apart in his arms while he swallows your moans and tells you how perfect you are, how good, how his.
Youâre still trembling through the aftershocks when he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with an obscene moan that makes heat coil in your belly all over again despite having just come.
âMissed that too,â he says with a little pat to your sensitive cunt, eyes dark as he watches you try to catch your breath. âThe way you taste. Been thinking about it for months.â
âYouâre such a fucking munch,â you manage but thereâs no heat behind it. Canât be, not when youâre boneless and satisfied and heâs looking at you like that.
âWonder whose fault that is?â Heâs already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing all that lean muscle youâve tried very hard not to think about. âAnd weâre not done. Not even close.â
Your eyes track the movement of his hands as he works his belt loose, the clink of metal loud in your quiet bedroom. âConfident.â
âRealistic,â he corrects, shoving his jeans down. âYou think one orgasm is enough to make up for months? Iâve got a lot of lost time to account for, Muse.â
Heâs not wrong. Even now, barely recovered, you want him. Want his weight on you, in you, surrounding you. Itâs infuriating how easily he gets under your skin.
âCome here,â you say, reaching for him and he goes willingly, settling between your thighs like he belongs there.
His cock presses against you, hard and hot, and you both groan at the contact. He rocks against you slowly, coating himself in your wetness, the head catching on your clit with each deliberate thrust.
âHyuneââ Your nails rake down his back and he hisses.
âWhat, baby? Use your words.â Heâs teasing, the bastard, dragging this out when you both know what you want.
âStop teasing.â
âBut youâre so pretty when youâre desperate.â He does it again, that maddening slide thatâs almost enough but not quite. âFlushed and needy and all mine.â
You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to angle him where you need him, but he doesnât budge just holds himself just out of reach with that infuriating smirk.
âAsk nicely.â
âIâm going to kill you,â you threaten but it comes out more pleading than murderous.
âYou love me,â he says, and then seems to realize what heâs said. For a moment, the cocky mask slips and you see something vulnerable underneath, hope and fear and want all tangled together.
The moment stretches between you, weighted with things neither of you are ready to name.
âHyunjin,â you say softly, cupping his face. âFuck me. Please.â
Itâs enough. He reaches between you, lining himself up, and then heâs pushing inside with one slow, devastating thrust that has you both gasping. The stretch is perfect, familiar, like your body remembered exactly how he feels.
âFuck,â he breathes, dropping his forehead to yours. âFuck, Muse, you feelââ He canât finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, and something about seeing him undone like this makes your chest tight.
âMove,â you urge, rolling your hips. âBaby, please move.â
He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. Sets a rhythm thatâs punishing and perfect, each thrust hitting so deep you see stars.
âThis,â he grits out, punctuating the word with a particularly hard thrust. âThis is what youâve been missing. What those other guys could never give you.â His hand finds your throat again, not squeezing, just holding. âTell me. Tell me they didnât fuck you like this.â
âThey didnâtââ You gasp as he changes angles, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. âDidnât evenâfuckâdidnât even have a chanceââ
âBecause they donât know you.â His thumb traces your racing pulse. His other hand grips your thigh to hook your leg over his shoulder, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and pulling you tighter against him. âDonât know that you like it rough. Like when I hold you down and take whatâs mine.â
He proves his point by pinning your wrists above your head with his free hand, holding you completely at his mercy. The position makes your breasts press up and he takes advantage, ducking his head to drag his teeth across one nipple.
âDonât know how fucking perfect you are when you let go and just feel.â
You should probably protest at the possessive way heâs talking, the assumption that he knows you better than you know yourself. But he does know you, knows exactly how to make you fall apart, how to push you right to the edge and keep you there.
âHarder,â you demand because if youâre doing this, if youâre giving in, you might as well get everything you want.
His answering laugh is strained. âGreedy girl.â But he complies, fucking into you with enough force that your headboard starts hitting the wall. âThat what you need? Need me to ruin you so you canât even think about anyone else?â
âYesâfuck yesââ
âGood.â He releases your wrists to hitch your other leg higher over his hip, the new angle making you cry out. âBecause thatâs exactly what Iâm gonna do.â
His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and the dual sensation is almost too much. You can feel another orgasm building, faster this time, pulled tight like a wire about to snap.
âHyune, Iâm closeââ
âI know, baby, I can feel it.â His rhythm is getting erratic, chasing his own release. âCome for me. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, wanna watch you fall apart.â
âCome with me,â you gasp, pulling him down into a kiss thatâs more breathing into each otherâs mouths than anything else. âWant to feel youââ
âFuckâŠMuseââ The nickname becomes a chant as his hips stutter and the desperation in his voice is what tips you over. Your second orgasm hits harder than the first, pleasure white-hot and all-consuming, and you feel him follow seconds later with a groan that you swallow down.
He collapses on top of you, both of you sweaty and spent and trembling. For a long moment, thereâs nothing but heavy breathing and the occasional aftershock, his cock still buried inside you like he canât bear to separate yet.
âSo,â he finally says, voice muffled against your neck. âStill think those dates were a good idea?â
You smack his shoulder weakly. âCĂĄlla.â
âMake me.â But thereâs no heat behind it, just lazy satisfaction.
You wrap your legs tight around him and roll him onto his back as you settle on top of him. The ride you start is slow and torturous, hands on his chest as you lift until only the tip is inside before you drop all the way back down.
His eyes go wide when you flip him, a startled laugh escaping before it melts into a groan as you sink back down onto him. Heâs still sensitive from coming, you can tell by the way his abs clench, the way his hands fly to your hips with a grip thatâs going to leave bruises.
His fingers span your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft give of your stomach and thereâs something almost reverent in the way heâs looking up at you, like he canât quite believe youâre real.
âFuck, baby, what are youââ
âTeaching you a lesson,â you murmur, rising up slowly, torturously slow, until just his tip is inside. His fingers dig into your flesh, trying to pull you back down but you resist. âAbout running your mouth.â
You drop down hard and he chokes on whatever he was going to say, head falling back against the pillows. The oversensitivity makes him twitch inside you, makes his thighs tense beneath you.
âBaby, I justâah fuckââ
You do it again. And again. Setting a pace thatâs designed to drive him insane, that has him writhing beneath you and trying to thrust up to meet you. But you keep the control, keep him exactly where you want him.
âWhatâs wrong?â You drag your nails down his chest, watching red lines bloom in their wake. âThought you liked being in charge. Liked making me beg.â
âI doâfuck, I doâbut youâre gonna kill meââ His feet plant on the mattress, trying to get leverage, trying to fuck up into you harder.
Thatâs when your hand wraps around his throat again.
The effect is immediate and devastating. His whole body goes taut, cock throbbing inside you and the moan that tears from him is absolutely wrecked.
âStay still,â you command, squeezing just enough to make his breath catch. âYouâre going to take what I give you, understand?â
âFuck,yes, yesââ His eyes are glazed, pupils blown so wide thereâs barely any iris left. His hands fall away from your hips, surrendering, and the sight of Hwang Hyunjinâcocky, confident, always-in-control Hyunjinâcompletely at your mercy sends a rush of power through you.
You start riding him in earnest now, the way you know drives him crazy. Rolling your hips on the downstroke, clenching around him deliberately, using him for your own pleasure while your hand stays firm on his throat.
âOh godâŠoh fuck, Museââ Heâs babbling now, coherence lost. His hands scrabble at the sheets, his back arching. âPlease,please, I canâtââ
âCanât what?â You lean down, maintaining the pressure on his throat as you change the angle. âCanât handle what youâve been begging for? Canât take being fucked the way you fuck me?â
âNoâŠyes, fuckââ Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes from the intensity. âDonât stopâplease donât stopââ
You werenât planning to. Not when he looks like this; absolutely destroyed, that pretty face twisted in almost painful pleasure, completely yours. Your free hand slides up to pinch his nipple and he nearly sobs.
âYouâre so good like this,â you tell him and mean it. âSo perfect when you let go. When you stop trying to control everything and just feel.â
âFor youââ he gasps out. âOnly for youââ
Your rhythm is relentless now, chasing your third orgasm of the night while he falls apart beneath you. You can feel him getting close again despite having just come, his cock swelling impossibly harder inside you.
âGonna come again already?â You tighten your grip on his throat fractionally and he keens. âGreedy boy. So desperate for it.â
âPleaseââ Itâs barely a whisper. âPlease, Muse, I needââ
âI know what you need.â You lean down to bite at his jaw, his neck, marking him the way he marked you. âNeed to come inside me again. Need to fill me up until itâs dripping down my thighs.â
âYes! fuck yes,please let meââ
âThen come,â you order, releasing his throat and clenching around him as hard as you can. âCome for me, Hyunjin.â
He does, with a shout thatâs definitely going to have your neighbors complaining, his whole body seizing as he spills inside you. The feeling of it, the heat and the way he pulses, triggers your own orgasm; smaller than the first two but no less intense for it.
You collapse onto his chest, both of you gasping for air. His arms come around you immediately, holding you close despite the way youâre both trembling.
âJesus Christ,â he finally manages, voice absolutely wrecked. âYouâre trying to kill me.â
âPayback,â you mumble against his skin, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your cheek.
âWorth it.â His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. âSo fucking worth it.â
You can feel him softening inside you, the mess of both of you starting to leak out, but neither of you move. Just lie there tangled together, his thumb stroking lazy circles against your scalp.
âSo,â he says after a while, and you can hear the smile in his voice. âAbout that dateâŠâ
You bite his shoulder hard enough to make him yelp. âOne thing at a time, Hwang.â
His laugh rumbles through his chest. âYes maâam.â
You shift to look up at him, finding him watching you with an expression so soft it makes your breath catch. His free hand comes up to trace the curve of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
âLemme stay,â he says quietly. âTonight. Donât kick me out this time.â
âI never kicked you outââ
âYou very politely suggested that I had to go.â His lips quirk. âThree times. Spring semester, twice over summer. Same thing.â
You study his face; the vulnerability lurking beneath the teasing, the hope heâs trying to hide. âYouâre clingy when youâre fucked out.â
âMhmm,â he admits, no shame in it. âSo is that a yes?â
You could say no. Should probably establish some boundaries, maintain some distance. But youâre warm and sated and heâs looking at you like that, andâ
âFine,â you relent. âBut youâre the big spoon because Iâm not sleeping on my back all night.â
His grin is blinding. âDeal.â
He finally pulls out, both of you wincing at the sensitivity, and disappears to your bathroom. Returns with a warm washcloth and cleans you up with a gentleness that feels at odds with how youâd just fucked each other into the mattress.
âSuch a gentleman,â you tease as he tosses the cloth aside and climbs back into bed.
âOnly for you,â he says again, pulling you against his chest and draping himself around you. His hand splays across your stomach, thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin. âSee? Perfect big spoon.â
You hum in agreement, already feeling sleep pulling at you. His warmth surrounds you, solid and safe, and you find yourself relaxing into it despite your better judgment.
âMuse?â His voice is soft, almost hesitant.
âMm?â
âI meant what I said. About wanting this to be real. Aboutââ He pauses and you feel him press a kiss to your shoulder. âAbout all of it.â
Your heart does something complicated in your chest. âI know.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â You lace your fingers with his where they rest on your stomach. âNow shut up and let me sleep.â
His quiet laugh stirs your hair. âOkay, baby.â
And wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat steady against your back, you let yourself drift off with a small smile on your face.
You wake up to a wet, heated sensation between your legs and when you look down, Hyunjinâs looking up at you from between your thighs, morning light filtering through your curtains and painting his skin gold.
âAbout time you woke up. Been down here for half an hour, baby.â
âHyune,â you breathe, still half-asleep, and your hand automatically goes to his hair.
âLove it when you call me that.â He mumbles against your inner thigh, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. You can already see the marks blooming there, evidence of his dedication. âEspecially all sleepy like this.â
Your brain is still foggy with sleep, trying to catch up, but your body already knows; hips lifting into his mouth, thighs spreading wider to give him better access.
âHalf an hour?â you manage, voice rough. âWhy didnât youâahâwake me?â
He pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, lips glistening. âWanted to see how long it would take. How deep I could get you before you woke up.â His tongue drags slowly through your folds and your grip tightens in his hair. âYou were making the prettiest sounds in your sleep, Muse. Kept saying my name.â
âI did notââ
âYou did.â He punctuates it with a kiss to your inner thigh, sucking another mark. âKept squirming too, pressing that perfect ass back against me. Think you were dreaming about me?â
You were, actually. Hazy images of last night and the early hours of the morning bleeding into new scenarios, his hands and mouth everywhere. But youâre not about to admit that.
âYouâre imagining things,â you say, trying for dismissive but it comes out breathy when he sucks a mark higher on your thigh.
âAm I?â His hands slide up to grip your hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, to his mouth. âThen why are you so wet already? Been like this since I started, baby. So ready for me.â
His mouth returns to where you need it, tongue circling your clit with maddening precision. Heâs not rushing, not trying to make you come quickly; just exploring, savoring, taking his time like he has all day.
âHyunjinââ Your head falls back against the pillow as he slides two fingers inside, curling them just right. âFuckââ
âLove the way you say my name,â he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. âEspecially first thing in the morning, all sleepy and needy.â He adds a third finger and you arch off the bed. âMissed waking up with you. Missed getting to do this.â
You want to tell him heâs only been in your bed three times beforeâspring semester, twice over summerâand each time youâd basically kicked him out the morning after. That this isnât some regular thing. But then he swirls his tongue over your clit before sucking making your thighs shake, and all coherent thought evaporates.
âThatâs it,â he encourages, feeling you clench around his fingers. âLet me take care of you, Muse. Let me make you feel good.â
His free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, palming your breast. His thumb brushes over your nipple and the dual sensation has you arching into his touch. Heâs everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you, and itâs overwhelming in the best way.
âClose already?â Thereâs satisfaction in his voice as your hips start rolling against his face. âThatâs my girl. So responsive for me.â
âDonâtâah,donât stopââ
âWouldnât dream of it.â He seals his lips around your clit and sucks, fingers pumping faster, and you squirt with a cry that echoes off the bedroom walls as you make a mess of his face and your sheets.
He works you through it, gentling his touches as you come down, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your hip bones, your stomach. When he finally crawls back up your body, his face is wet with you and heâs grinning like heâs won the lottery.
âGood morning,â he says, entirely too pleased with himself.
Youâre still trying to remember how to breathe. âYouâre insane.â
âCrazy about you,â he corrects, dropping a kiss to your shoulder. Then another to your collarbone. âCouldnât help myself. You looked so pretty sleeping, and Iâve been thinking about doing that since you kicked me out last time.â
âI didnât kick you outââ
âYou strongly suggested I should leave because you had shit to do,â he reminds you, nipping at your jaw. âWouldnât even let me stay for breakfast. Three different times.â
âBecause it was supposed to be a one-time thing.â
âThree-time thing,â he corrects. âAnd clearly not a one-time anything because here we are again and youâre not exactly complaining.â
Heâs not wrong. You should be kicking him out right now, reestablishing boundaries, reminding him that one date doesnât mean he gets toâ
âStop thinking so loud,â he murmurs, kissing your temple. âI can literally hear you overthinking from here.â
âIâm notââ
âYou are.â He shifts, settling beside you so he can look at you properly. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen, and thereâs something soft in his eyes that makes your chest tight. âLook, I know this is complicated. I know youâve got reasons for keeping me at armâs length. But MuseâŠâ His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. âI meant what I said last night. I want this. Want you. Not just the sexâthough fuck, the sex is incredibleâbut all of it.â
âHyunjinâŠâ
âIâm not asking you to marry me,â he says quickly. âJustâŠgive me a real chance. Let me take you on that date. Let me prove that youâre more than a hookup.â
The earnestness in his voice, in his expression, makes something in your chest crack open. Because the truth is, you want it too. Want him. Have wanted him since that first night when he stayed after, ordering takeout and arguing with you about the themes in the book you were teaching, making you laugh until your sides hurt before he rearranged your guts again.
âLike I said, one date,â you hear yourself say, and his face lights up. âBut if you screw this upââ
âI wonât.â Heâs kissing you before you can finish the threat, enthusiastic and clumsy and perfect. âI promise, Muse. Iâm gonna make you so happy you agreed to this.â
âYouâre still in my bed naked,â you point out. âShouldnât you go home and shower or something?â
His grin turns wicked. âActually, I was thinking we could shower together. Save water. Be environmentally conscious.â
âThat is notââ
But heâs already pulling you up, laughing at your protests, and somehow you end up in the shower with him anyway. His hands are gentle as he washes your hair, his kisses slow and sweet under the spray, and you let yourself have thisâhave himâwithout overthinking it for once.
When you finally emerge, clean and wrapped in towels, he immediately starts raiding your closet.
âWhat are you doing?â
âFinding clothes,â he says, pulling out one of your hoodies. âThisâll work.â
âThatâs mine.â
âItâs ours now.â He pulls it on and itâs slightly too small on him, riding up to show a strip of his stomach, but he looks entirely too pleased with himself. âPerfect.â
âYou should go home and get your own clothes.â
âWhy?â He asks pulling the sheet off of your bed looking at you expectantly as you pass him a fresh set which he puts on before he sprawls on it like he owns it. âItâs Saturday. Neither of us has anywhere to be.â
âDonât you haveâI donât know, plans? Things to do?â
âMy only plan was you,â he says, patting the space next to him. âAnd Iâm exactly where I want to be.â
You should insist. Should maintain some boundaries, not let him get too comfortable. But heâs looking at you with those warm eyes, your too-small hoodie riding up to show that strip of stomach, and you find yourself giving in.
âFine,â you relent, settling next to him on the bed. âBut youâre buying or making food as long as youâre here.â
âDeal.â He immediately pulls you against him, arranging you so your back is against his chest, his arms wrapped around your middle. âWhat do you want to do today?â
âI was going to catch up on that show I mentioned.â
âThe murder mystery one?â
You twist to look at him, surprised. âHow did you know?â
He shrugs, but thereâs something vulnerable in his expression. âYou mentioned it. Three weeks ago, after your TA session. You said it looked interesting but you hadnât had time.â
Your chest does something complicated. âYou remember that?â
âI remember everything you tell me,â he says simply.
âYouâre such a simp.â
âOnly for you,â he says, and presses a kiss to your temple. âNow come on, letâs go watch your show. But Iâm warning you, itâs always the butler.â
âHow do you know?â
âItâs always the butler.â He sounds entirely too confident.
You twist to look at him. âWhat are the stakes?â
His grin is wicked. âIf Iâm right, you come to my friendsâ New Yearâs party with me.â
âAnd if youâre wrong?â
âThen Iâll stop interrupting your dates.â
You snort. âYouâre that confident?â
âIn my detective skills? Absolutely.â He pauses. âAlso I may have already watched the first episode when you mentioned it.â
âHwang Hyunjin!â
Heâs laughing now, trying to fend off your playful smacks. âWhat! I wanted to be able to talk to you about it! Thatâs romantic!â
âThatâs cheating!â
âOkay, okayââ He catches your wrists, still grinning. âNew bet. Come to the party with me anyway, and if the butler isnât the killer, Iâll make you that pasta dish you said looked good on Instagram.â
âYou follow my Instagram?â
âHave for months,â he admits, shameless. âYou post the best food pics. Also that selfie you posted last week? In the library? Saved it.â
You donât know whether to be flattered or concerned. âYouâre obsessed.â
âCompletely,â he agrees easily. âSo? Deal?â
You should say no. Should not agree to go to a party with his friends, to blur these lines even further. But heâs looking at you hopefully, andâ
âFine. But the pasta better be amazing if youâre wrong.â
âIt will be,â he promises, and seals it with a kiss.
You end up on the couch, you settled between his legs with your back against his chest, starting the show. He was right, the butler did do it, which heâs entirely too smug about. But you find you donât really mind, especially when he keeps pressing random kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, clearly only half-paying attention to the show.
âHyune,â you murmur during the second episode. âYouâre missing it.â
âDonât care,â he says against your skin. âThis is better.â
âThe whole point of watching togetherââ
âIs spending time with you. Which Iâm doing.â He nips at your earlobe. âThe murder mystery is just a bonus.â
You roll your eyes but canât help smiling. âYouâre impossible.â
âYou like it,â he counters, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
Halfway through the fifth episode, your stomach growls loudly. Hyunjin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest into your back.
âLunch?â he suggests.
âItâs almost two. More like late lunch.â
âEven better.â But he doesnât let go of you, just tightens his arms. âIn a minute.â
âHyunjin, Iâm hungry.â
âJustââ He buries his face in your neck. âOne more minute like this.â
Something warm and dangerous blooms in your chest. âOkay. One more minute.â
You give him five before standing up and pulling him with you toward the kitchen. âCome on. If youâre staying, youâre helping.â
âWhat are we making?â
âI was thinking cheesy kimchi fried rice? Nothing fancy, butââ
âPerfect,â he interrupts, already moving toward your fridge. âComfort food. I can work with that.â
You expect him to be useless in the kitchenâhe gives off those vibesâbut he surprises you. He moves around your space with ease, finding things without asking.
âYou can actually cook,â you observe, surprised.
âMy mom made sure I all knew the basics,â he says, focused on cutting sausages and spam.
âAnd?â
âIâm no chef but I can handle myself fairly well in the kitchen,â he says. âItâs not really different from painting or drawing once you get used to it.â
âBig talk.â
âYouâll see.â
You work together comfortably; you handle the side dishes while he fries the rice. He keeps stealing touches; a hand on your waist as he moves past you, fingers brushing yours when you hand him the cheese, a kiss pressed to your shoulder when youâre stirring the adding radish to a bowl.
âYouâre very touchy today,â you comment, not exactly complaining.
âMaking up for lost time,â he says simply. âPlus you keep trying to kick me out in the mornings. Gotta get my fill while I can.â
âI donâtââ You pause. âOkay, maybe I do.â
âYou do.â He flips the sandwich expertly. âSpring semester, you basically pushed me out the door. Said you had to work on your thesis.â
âI did have to work on my thesis.â
âAt 7 AM on a Sunday?â
ââŠYes?â
He gives you a look that says he doesnât believe you for a second. âAnd the first time in summer, you had that âemergency meetingâ with your advisor.â
âThat was real!â
âMhm. And the second time, you suddenly remembered you had plans with your friends.â
Youâre quiet, because okay, heâs got you there. Each time youâd basically panicked the morning after, overwhelmed by how comfortable it felt having him in your space, how much you didnât want him to leave. So youâd created excuses, put up walls, tried to maintain distance.
âIâm sorry,â you say finally. âThat was shitty of me.â
âHey.â He turns and faces you properly, hands on your hips. âI get it. Iâm younger, still in undergrad, not exactly what you probably pictured for yourself. And I came on really strong that first time. I get why you freaked out.â
âItâs notââ You struggle with the words. âItâs not about your age, really. Itâs justâŠcomplicated.â
âIt doesnât have to be,â he says softly. âWe can justâŠbe. No pressure, no expectations. Just us figuring this out together.â
âYou make it sound simple.â
âBecause it is.â He cups your face in his hands looking at you. âI like you. You like me. Everything else is just noise.â
You want to argue, to point out all the ways itâs not that simple. But heâs looking at you with such earnest honesty that you find yourself nodding instead.
âOkay,â you say. âWe can try.â
His smile is brilliant. âYeah?â
âYeah. But Hyunjin?â You poke his chest. âNo more interrupting my dates.â
âDeal. Mainly because you wonât be going on them anymore.â
âCocky.â
âConfident,â he corrects, and kisses you until the rice is in danger of burning.
You eat lunch curled up on the couch, his arm around your shoulders, arguing about the show and laughing at his terrible theories about whoâs going to die next. Itâs easy, comfortable, like youâve been doing this for years instead of dancing around each other for months.
âSo this party,â you say eventually. âYour friendsâ New Yearâs thing.â
âYou donât have to come if you donât want to,â he says quickly. âI know I kind of blackmailed you into agreeingââ
âIâll come,â you interrupt. âMight be nice.â
His face lights up. âReally?â
âReally. But Hyunjin?â You level him with a look. âThis counts as our first date, right? The party?â
âWhat? No!â He sits up, looking genuinely distressed. âNo, Iâm taking you on a proper date first. Dinner, the whole thing. The party is justâŠthe party.â
âYou donât have toââ
âI want to,â he insists. âI want to do this right, Muse. Take you somewhere nice, show you off, prove Iâm not justââ He gestures vaguely. âI want to date you. Properly.â
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tight. âOkay. When?â
âMonday?â he suggests. âI know this place downtown, really good food, and itâs quiet enough that we can actually talk.â
âMonday works,â you agree, smiling at his enthusiasm.
âPerfect.â He pulls you back against him, clearly pleased with himself. âItâs a date.â
âItâs a date,â you confirm, and let him hold you as you finish lunch, the show playing forgotten in the background.
He doesnât leave until nearly evening, and even then itâs reluctantly, with promises to text you when he gets home and reminders about Monday. When the door finally closes behind him, your apartment feels too quiet, too empty.
Youâre in so much trouble.
MondayâThe Date
Hyunjin shows up at your door an hour early, flowers in hand and wearing a sleek all-black ensemble that makes him look unfairly good while youâre still getting ready.
âYou look beautiful,â he says, and the way heâs looking at youâlike youâre the only thing in the world worth seeingâmakes you believe him despite your half-dressed state and bare feet.
âYouâre early.â
âI missed you.â
You hum, stepping aside to let him in but your eyes are still dragging over him from head to toe. That deep-cut silk shirt is doing traitorous things to your lower regions, the fabric clinging to his frame in ways that should be illegal. The top three buttons are undone, exposing his collarbones and a hint of his chest, and the way the material catches the light makes your mouth go dry.
âThese are gorgeous, thank you.â You take the flowers from himâred and white roses, your favorites, which means he rememberedâwith a kiss to his cheek and move to the kitchen to place them in a vase with water. Your hands are steadier than you feel as you arrange them, hyperaware of his presence behind you, the weight of his gaze.
âNot as gorgeous as you,â he murmurs against your temple.
You roll your eyes but canât suppress your smile as you continue to arrange the flowers carefully before placing them on the counter where you can see them.
When you turn back, heâs still watching you with that look that makes your stomach flip.
âCome on,â you say, gesturing toward your bedroom. âI still need to finish getting ready.â
He follows, settling onto your bed in that way he does; legs spread just enough to be distracting, one arm propped behind him, looking like he belongs there. Like heâs always belonged there.
You move back to your vanity, trying to focus on putting in your second earring, but you can feel his eyes on you in the mirror. Tracking every movement.
âYouâre staring,â you say without looking at him directly.
âCan you blame me?â
Your eyes find his in the mirror, and something about the way heâs looking at youâhungry but patient, like heâs content to just watch you existâmakes heat pool low in your belly. Your mouth speaks before you can stop yourself.
âUnbuckle your belt and unzip your pants.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â You turn on your heels, the satin of your dress whispering against your skin as you face him fully. âOr are you going to pretend like you didnât know exactly what you were doing, showing up an hour early and dressed like lust incarnate?â
You walk toward him slowly, deliberately, watching the way his throat works as he swallows. The deep-cut back of your dress matches his aesthetic perfectlyâthe two of you look like vampire royalty, all dark elegance and barely restrained hunger.
He smirks, but his hands donât move. âWhat are you planning?â
âTo suck your cock.â
The bluntness of it makes his eyes darken further, his pupils blown wide. You stop in front of him, leaning forward with your hands on his thighs, giving him a perfect view down the front of your dress. No braâjust you and the slippery satin and the promise of whatâs underneath.
âUnless youâd rather just sit there looking pretty?â you murmur, your voice dropping to something darker, more teasing.
âWe have reservations,â he says, but his voice is rough, strained.
âIn an hour.â Your hands slide higher, fingertips grazing the buckle of his belt. âPlenty of time.â
âFuck,â he breathes, and then his hands are moving, unbuckling, unzipping, giving you what you want because he always does. Always will. The metallic clink as he unbuckles it sends a thrill through you. He unzips his pants, lifting his hips just enough to push them down slightly, and the sight of himâalready half-hard and straining against his boxer briefsâmakes your mouth water.
You sink to your knees between his legs, and the look on his faceâreverent and wrecked and completely gone for youâmakes every second worth it.
âSomeoneâs eager,â you observe, trailing one finger along the outline of him through the fabric.
His hips jerk involuntarily. âYou canât say shit like that and expect me not to be.â
You smile, slow and satisfied, the carpet is soft beneath you, and the way heâs looking down at youâpupils blown wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling a little too fastâmakes you feel powerful.
âWeâre going to be late,â he manages, even as his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with surprising tenderness.
âThen weâll be late.â You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down just enough to free him. âBesides, you showed up early. This is on you.â
Whatever response he has dies on his lips the moment yours wrap around him.
The restaurant heâs chosen is intimate and upscale, the kind of place with candlelight and wine lists that read like novels. Youâre grateful you touched up your makeup in the car, though Hyunjin had watched you do it with a satisfied smirk that suggested he wasnât sorry at all for the delay.
âStop looking so smug,â you tell him as the host leads you to your table.
âIâm not smug. Iâm content. Thereâs a difference.â
âMmhm.â But youâre smiling too as he pulls out your chair for you, ever the gentleman despite what happened less than an hour ago.
Dinner is perfect. Heâs charming and attentive, asking about your research with genuine interest, actually listening to your answers instead of just waiting for his turn to talk. He asks follow-up questions, remembers details you mentioned weeks ago, makes connections you hadnât even considered.
He tells you about his classes; about the choreography project thatâs been consuming him, the way movement can tell stories that words canât. He talks about his friends with obvious affection, about his plans after graduation (vague and artistic and somehow perfectly him), about the contemporary dance company heâs been considering auditioning for.
The conversation flows easily, punctuated by his terrible jokes that still somehow make you laugh, by the way he reaches across the table to steal bites from your plate, by the comfortable silences that donât feel awkward at all.
âThis is nice,â you say over dessert, watching him fight with a particularly stubborn piece of chocolate cake after finishing your tiramisu.
âYeah?â He grins, victorious as he finally gets the fork to cooperate. âTold you I could do dates.â
âDonât get too cocky.â
âToo late,â he says, but his eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners with genuine happiness. âBesides, you like it.â
You do. God help you, you really do. You like his confidence, his humor, the way he looks at you like youâre something precious. You like how he makes you feelâdesired and seen and worth the effort. You like how he remembers small details youâve mentioned in passing, how he laughs at your sarcasm instead of being put off by it.
âMaybe,â you concede, stealing his hard-won bite of cake just to watch him protest.
He gasps in mock outrage. âBetrayal! Treachery!â
âShouldâve eaten faster.â
âYouâre terrible,â he says, but heâs laughing, flagging down the waiter to order a second dessert, and when it arrives, he makes a big show of guarding it from you.
The drive home is quieter, softer. His hand finds yours on the center console, fingers intertwining, and you let yourself enjoy the simple intimacy of it. The city lights blur past the windows, painting streaks of gold and red across the darkness, and you feel oddly at peace.
When he drops you home that night, he walks you to your door like a perfect gentleman. Kisses you with a sweetness that makes your chest ache, all soft lips and gentle hands framing your face. He pulls back before it can turn into more, before either of you can get swept away, and the restraint in his eyes tells you how much it costs him.
âNew Yearâs Eve,â he reminds you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. âIâll pick you up at nine?â
âIâll be ready.â
He kisses you once more, quick and sweet, before stepping back. âWear something eye catching. My friends are going to love you but I want them to be a little jealous too.â
You laugh, shaking your head. âGoodnight, Hyunjin.â
âGoodnight, beautiful.â
And as you watch him walk away, hands in his pockets, turning back once to flash you that devastating smile, you realize youâre actually looking forward to it; to meeting his friends, to being by his side, to whatever this thing between you is becoming.
Youâre definitely in trouble.
But maybe, just maybe, thatâs okay.
Inside, you lean against the door, fingers touching your lips where you can still feel the ghost of his kiss. The flowers he brought sit on your counter, beautiful and bright, and your phone buzzes with a text.
Hyuneđ„đ„°: Already missing you
You: You just left
Hyuneđ„đ„°: Doesnât change anything
Hyuneđ„đ„°: Dream about me
You smile, biting your lip, and type back:
You: Bold of you to assume I donât already
Your phone rings immediately, his name flashing on the screen and when you answer you can hear the grin in his voice.
âNow whoâs being cocky?â
âLearned from the best,â you counter, moving through your apartment, already starting your nighttime routine.
âI really did have a good time tonight,â he says, and the softness in his voice catches you off guard.
âMe too.â
âEven the part where you made us late?â
âEspecially that part.â
His laugh is warm and rich through the phone. âI should let you sleep. But Iâm serious about New Yearâs. Youâre going to have fun, I promise.â
âI believe you.â
âGood.â A pause. âSweet dreams.â
âYou too.â
After you hang up, you go through the motions of getting ready for bed, but your mind keeps drifting back to himâthe way he looked at you, the way he listened, the way he kissed you goodbye like it hurt to leave.
Yeah. Youâre definitely in trouble.
But as you slip between your sheets, your phone on the nightstand still warm from talking to him, you canât bring yourself to mind.
New Yearâs Eve
Hyunjin is nervous.
This is stupidâheâs not a nervous person. Heâs confident, self-assured, usually has no problem with social situations. But tonight feels important in a way he canât quite articulate.
Heâs bringing his pussy fairy to meet his friends.
He really needs to stop calling you that, even in his head. But the nickname stuck after that first night back in spring, when heâd gone to your apartment thinking it would be like every other hookup; good sex, pleasant enough conversation, then heâd bounce and never think about it again.
Except he couldnât stop thinking about it. About you.
The way youâd looked at him like he was more than just a pretty face. The way youâd argued with him about symbolism in The Great Gatsby while you ate shitty takeout at 2 AM, actually engaging with his points instead of just agreeing or trying to move things along to more sex. The way your thighs had felt wrapped around his head, soft and perfect, the way youâd tastedâ
Yeah. Heâd been fucked from the start.
Heâd convinced himself it was just the sex. Just really, really good sex. Thatâs all. He wasnât that gone after one night.
So heâd shown up again in early summer, making up some excuse about being in the neighborhood. Went there specifically to prove to himself that it wasnât as good as he remembered, that heâd built it up in his head. That the way you tasted, the sounds you made, the soft give of your thighs under his handsâheâd exaggerated all of it in his memory.
Except it was better. So much better. Heâd spent hours between your legs that night, worshipping at the altar of your body, drunk on the taste of you, the way you pulled his hairâthat had started growing outâand gasped his name. And when youâd kicked him out the next morning with some excuse about work, heâd gone home and immediately started planning how to see you again.
The third time, late summer, heâd finally admitted to himself that he was completely fucked.
Because it wasnât just about the sexâthough christ, the sex was incredible. It was everything. The way you challenged him intellectually, never letting him coast by on his looks or charm. The way you laughed at his stupid jokes, this surprised little giggle like you didnât expect to find him funny. The way you fit against him afterward, soft and warm and perfect, even as you were already planning how to politely kick him out.
Each time youâd basically ushered him out the door the next morning with some variation of âDonât you have class?â or âIâve got work to do,â and each time it had stung more. Like you were trying to keep him at armâs length, to pretend it meant nothing.
But he knew better. Had felt the way you held onto him, the way youâd whispered his name like a prayer when you came.
After that third time, heâd tried to move on. Went on a few dates, let people buy him drinks at parties, even made out with someone in a club bathroom before his brain conjured images of youâthe soft curves of your body, those gorgeous thighs, the breathy way you said his nameâand he had to stop.
Not even his own hand worked anymore. Heâd lie in bed trying to jerk off to porn, to memories of past hookups, anything but his brain would just slide right back to you. The way your stomach felt under his palm, soft and warm. The way youâd bite your lip when you were close. The taste of you on his tongue, better than anything heâd ever had, addictive in a way that terrified him.
Heâd become obsessed. Started following your Instagram, saving your photos. That selfie in the library? Heâd stared at it for twenty minutes, memorizing the curve of your smile, the way your hair fell. Started âcoincidentallyâ showing up at places you frequented. The coffee shop where you did your grading. The restaurant near your apartment.
And yeah, heâd started sabotaging your dates. Heâs not proud of it, but he also wasnât about to let some undeserving asshole sweep in when he knewâknew with absolute certaintyâthat he could make you happy. That he could worship you the way you deserved, spend hours learning every curve and dip of your body, make you understand that every inch of you was exactly what he wanted.
Because it was. God, it was.
He knows youâre insecure about your size. Heâs seen the way you try to hide sometimes, turning off lights or angling your body. Like he isnât completely obsessed with your softness, with the way your thighs bracket his head perfectly, with how his hands look against the curve of your hips. Like he doesnât dream about those thighs, about burying his face between them and staying there for hours, sipping the ambrosia you provide like a man dying of thirst.
If worshipping your body means getting on his knees and begging for the privilege of tasting youâwell, thatâs nobodyâs business but his.
His friends called it unhinged. He preferred âstrategic dedication.â
But it had worked. Youâd finally agreed to a real date and it had been perfectâyouâd been perfect, laughing at his jokes and engaging with his questions and looking at him like he matteredâand now he gets to bring you to this party and show you off to his friends and maybe, just maybe, wake up with you tomorrow without getting kicked out.
He checks his phone: 8:47 PM. Heâs early. Again.
chill, Felix texts him. she already said yes. stop spiraling
Hyunjin: Â Iâm not spiraling
Felix: youâve texted me 6 times in the past hour asking if your outfit looks okay
Hyunjin:âŠfair
Felix: just be yourself. she clearly likes you
Hyunjin hopes thatâs true. He takes a deep breath and heads to your door.
When you opens it, he forgets how to breathe for a second. Youâre wearing this skirtâblack and pleated that hugs every single one of your curves before it flares outâand your hair is down and youâre smiling at him, actually smiling, and fuck, heâs so gone for this you.
âHey,â you says. âYouâre early...again.â
âCouldnât wait,â he admits, offering his arm. His eyes trace over you appreciatively, cataloging every curve highlighted by that outfit. âYou look incredible. Likeâfuck, I donât even have words. Youâre perfect.â
You take his arm and he tries not to think about how right it feels, how natural. How much he wants this all the time; picking you up, taking you places, having you by his side.
The party is already in full swing when yâall arrive. Music thumping, people everywhere, the chaotic energy of New Yearâs Eve in full effect. Hyunjin keeps you close, hand on your lower back as he navigates through the crowd. Possessive, protective, mine.
âYou okay?â he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the noise.
âIâm good,â you say, and squeeze his hand.
His heart does something complicated in his chest.
His friends are gathered in the living roomâFelix, Seungmin, Han, a few others. They look up when Hyunjin approaches and he sees the moment they clock who heâs brought. Felixâs eyes go wide, Han grins knowingly, and Hyunjin feels his ears go hot.
âYo!â Felix stands, grinning. âFinally! We were starting to think you ditched.â
âI told you weâd be here,â Hyunjin says, pulling you closer. His hand slides from your lower back to your hip, thumb tracing absent circles. Mine. âEveryone, this isââ
âWe know who she is,â Han interrupts, amused. âYou literally havenât shut up about her for months.â
Hyunjin feels his ears go red. âI havenât been that bad.â
âYou literally have a whole folder of restaurant recommendations saved specifically for taking her on dates,â Seungmin points out. âAnd youâve been planning this party outfit for a week.â
âYou also practiced your introduction in the mirror,â Han adds helpfully.
âTraitors,â Hyunjin mutters, but thereâs no real heat behind it. âAll of you.â
Youâre laughing though, that surprised giggle he loves, and it makes the embarrassment worth it. Watching you smile, hearing you laughâheâd endure far worse for that.
âItâs nice to meet you all properly,â you say, and Hyunjin watches his friends immediately warm to you. Felix offers you a drink, Han makes room on the couch, and just like that youâre folded into the group like you belong there.
Like you belong with him.
Hyunjin doesnât even think about it before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. You make a small noise of protest, and he already knows whatâs coming.
âHyunjin, Iâm heavyââ
âYouâre perfect,â he interrupts, arms wrapping around your waist. His hand splays across your stomachâthat soft, gorgeous stomach he dreams about kissing, about resting his head onâand something possessive and warm spreads through his chest. He loves this. The weight of you, the softness, how perfectly you fit against him. âDonât start that shit. Not with me.â
He feels you relax incrementally, settling against him, and satisfaction curls through him. Good. He wants you comfortable. Wants you to understand that every single inch of you is exactly what he wants, what he craves, what he worships.
Because he does worship you. Has since that first night when heâd put his mouth on you and thought heâd found religion. The taste of you, the sounds you made, the way your thighs had trembled around his headâheâd been addicted instantly. Had gone back specifically to prove it was a fluke, that heâd built it up in his head, that no pussy could actually be that good.
But it was. You were. Is.
He dreams about it constantly. Dreams about lazy Sunday mornings spent between your thighs, about making you come so many times you forget your own name, about the weight of your thighs around his head and the taste of you on his tongue. Dreams about worshipping every curve, every soft inch of your body until you understand how fucking perfect you are.
If that makes him pussy-whipped, so be it. Heâll wear that label proudly.
The party flows around them. His friends chat and laugh, occasionally pulling them into conversation. Hyunjin keeps you close the entire time, unconsciously possessive, one hand always on you; your hip, your thigh, your waist. Under your skirt, his fingers trace patterns on your thigh, nothing obvious to anyone watching, just maintaining contact. Touching you. Claiming you.
He canât help it. After months of wanting, of strategic âcoincidencesâ and interrupted dates, of lying in bed alone wishing youâd let him stay; he finally has you here, on his lap, in front of his friends. He wants to touch you constantly, to remind himself this is real.
âSo howâd you two actually get together?â Felix asks at one point. âBecause Hyunjinâs been pining for months but heâs been real vague on details.â
âHe stalked me,â you say, completely deadpan.
âI did notââ
âYou interrupted three of my dates.â
âStrategically intervened,â Hyunjin corrects, fingers tightening on your thigh. âThereâs a difference.â
âHe also followed me on Instagram and started emailing me when I wouldnât respond to his texts.â
Han chokes on his drink. âPlease tell me youâre joking.â
âIâm not,â both of you say at the same time.
âYouâre insane,â Seungmin tells him.
âIâm dedicated,â Hyunjin corrects, completely shameless. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, breathing in your scent. âAnd it worked, didnât it?â
âDebatable,â you say, but youâre smiling.
âYouâre here,â he points out. âOn my lap. At a party with my friends on New Yearâs Eve. Iâd say I won.â
His hand slides a bit higher on your thigh, still hidden by your skirt, and he feels your breath catch. He knows what heâs doingâteasing you, working you up slowly. He wants you desperate for him, wants you to feel even a fraction of what heâs felt for months.
The conversation moves on, but Hyunjin only half-pays attention. Heâs too focused on youâthe weight of you against him, the subtle shifts as you get more comfortable, the way you laugh at Felixâs jokes and engages with Seungminâs questions about your research. The way his hands look against your skirt, spanning your waist, claiming you.
This could be his life. You on his lap at parties, meeting his friends, being part of his world. Mornings waking up between your thighs, lazy afternoons watching shows together, nights spent exploring every inch of your body. Showing you exactly how much he wants you, needs you, worships you.
He wants it so badly it physically hurts.
âYou know,â Han says during a lull in conversation, grin wicked, âIâve never seen Hyunjin like this with anyone.â
âLike what?â You ask, and Hyunjin can hear the curiosity in your voice.
âWhipped,â Felix supplies helpfully. âAbsolutely pussy-whipped.â
Hyunjin doesnât even try to deny it. His hand slides higher on your thigh, possessive. âAnd? Your point?â
âNo point,â Seungmin says, amused. âItâs just nice to see you actually care about someone.â
And he does. So fucking much it scares him sometimes.
His hand continues its path up your thigh, fingers now tracing the edge of your underwear, and he feels you tense slightly. He leans in, lips brushing your ear.
âRelax,â he murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear. âNo one can see. Just want to touch you.â
âHyunjinââ your voice is strained.
âYouâre so soft here,â he continues, fingers dancing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He loves thisâthe give of your flesh under his fingers, the warmth of your skin. âLove how you feel under my hands. Love that I get to touch you like this.â
âWeâre in the middle ofââ
âI know where we are.â His other hand splays across your stomach possessively. He can feel the soft curve of it, wants to kiss it, worship it. âJust reminding you that youâre mine. That all these curves, this perfect body, itâs mine to worship. Mine to taste. Mine to make come until youâre begging me to stop.â
He feels your breathing go shallow, feels the way you press back against him slightly.
âYouâre thinking about it now, arenât you?â he whispers. âThinking about the last time I had my face between these thighs. How I made you come three times before you finally pulled me up. How you tasted on my tongue.â Like heaven. Like home. Like everything heâs ever wanted.
âHyunjin, I swearââ
âI could spend hours between your legs,â he continues, barely audible. âHave spent hours there. Would spend every day there if youâd let me. Tasting you, worshipping you, making you understand how fucking perfect you are.â
âLater,â he promises. âLater Iâm going to take you home and remind you exactly why you agreed to give me a chance. Gonna spend hours between your legs until you forget your own name. Until the only thing you can say is mine.â
You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes, and the heat there nearly undoes him.
âWe either need to leave or find a room,â you mumble in his ear.
His brain short-circuits for a second. Then, âWhat?â
âYouâve been touching me for the past hour,â you say quietly. âAnd Iâm pretty sure Iâve soaked through my underwear. So, unless you want me to sit on it right here and keep it warmâŠâ
Oh fuck.
His cock, which has been half-hard for the past thirty minutes, goes fully hard in an instant. The mental image of you sitting on his lap, full of him, with all his friends aroundâ
âRight here?â The words come out strangled.
You shift on his lap slightly, and it takes everything in him not to groan. âYou can just slip it in. Iâll keep it nice and warm.â
Hyunjin goes completely still beneath you, his hands tightening on your thighs hard enough to bruise. He can feel his cock pressing insistently against your ass and the mental image you just painted has him seeing stars.
This is insane. Youâre in the middle of a party. His friends are right here. Anyone could notice.
But God, he wants to. Wants it so badly he can barely think. Wants to be inside you, connected to you, claiming you in the most primal way possible while surrounded by people who have no idea.
âFuck,â he breathes. âYouâre going to kill me.â
âIs that a no?â
His pussy fairyâhis perfect, gorgeous womanâis suggesting they fuck right here, right now, with all his friends around.
The same woman who kicks him out every morning, whoâs been holding him at armâs length for months, who finally agreed to give him a real chanceâis offering him this.
He should say no. Should take you somewhere private, do this properly. Prove heâs not just about the sex, even though his dick is currently screaming at him to take you up on the offer.
But the temptation is overwhelming. The thought of being inside you, of feeling you around him while he sits here pretending everything is normalâ
âHanâs room,â he manages, voice wrecked. âSecond floor, last door on the right. Go up there and wait for me. Five minutes.â
âWhy canât weââ
âBecause if I stand up right now, everyoneâs gonna see exactly how hard youâve got me.â His teeth catch her earlobe. âAnd because I need a minute to figure out if I can actually do what youâre suggesting without losing my mind and fucking you in front of everyone.â
Heat floods through him at his own words. He wants to do this right, wants to prove heâs serious about you. But he also wants you so badly he can barely see straight. Wants to worship your body the way it deserves, wants to bury himself inside you and never leave.
âFive minutes,â you agree, and slide off his lap.
The loss of your weight, your warmth, is almost painful. He watches you excuse yourselfâsomething about needing the bathroomâand tracks your movement across the room and up the stairs. His eyes follow the sway of your hips, the curve of your body in that outfit, and his mouth goes dry.
Felix leans over. âYou good, man? You look like youâre dying.â
âIâm fine,â Hyunjin lies, discreetly adjusting himself. His cock is so hard it hurts, and all he can think about is you. âJustâŠneed a minute.â
âUh huh.â Felixâs grin is knowing. âSure you do.â
Hyunjin counts downâfour minutes, because he literally cannot wait the full fiveâbefore standing. âBe right back.â
He doesnât wait for responses, just heads upstairs. His heart is pounding, blood rushing south, and he canât believe this is happening. Canât believe you suggested it, that you want him enough to risk this.
He finds Hanâs room easily, slips inside, locks the door. Youâre perched on the edge of the bed, and the sight of you sitting there waiting for him makes his mouth go dry.
His pussy fairy. His muse. His everything.
âYouâre early,â you say, lips curving.
âCouldnât wait.â He crosses the room in three long strides. âYouâre really trying to ruin me, arenât you? Sitting there looking innocent while suggesting the filthiest things.â
âIs that a complaint?â
âFuck no.â Heâs on you immediately, capturing your mouth in a kiss thatâs all desperation. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt up. âBeen thinking about you all night. About getting my mouth on you again, tasting you, making you fall apart on my tongue.â
He wants to drop to his knees right now. Wants to bury his face between your thighs and drink until youâre begging. Wants to worship you the way you deserve, show you exactly how obsessed he is with every inch of your body.
But thereâs no time, and the promise of what you suggestedâ
He hooks his fingers in your underwear and, yeah, you werenât exaggerating. Theyâre soaked through and the evidence of your arousal makes him groan.
âFuck, baby,â he breathes, pulling them down your legs. He brings them to his face for a second, inhaling your scent, before pocketing them. âYou werenât kidding. Youâre dripping for me.â
âYour fault,â you reply breathlessly.
âMine,â he agrees, already working his belt loose. âAll mine. This perfect pussy, these gorgeous thighs, all mine to worship.â
He lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance and he pauses to look at you.
âYou really want to?â he asks. âWant to go back down there and keep me inside you?â
âYes, pleaseââ
He pushes in slowly, both of you groaning. Once heâs fully seated, he pauses, forehead pressed to yours. Taking a moment to just feel you; the heat of your cunt, the tight grip of your walls around him, the way you fit him so perfectly.
His pussy fairy. His muse. His everything.
âOkay,â he breathes. âOkay, hereâs what weâre going to do.â
He explains his plan; in ten minutes you both go back downstairs, you sit on his lap, keeping him warm while yâall chat with his friends like nothingâs happening. Your eyes go wide, dark with lust, and he knows heâs got you.
âYouâre insane,â you say with a laugh.
âCrazy about you,â he corrects. âSo what do you say? Think you can keep quiet?â
âCan you?â
Fair question. Heâs not sure he can. The thought of sitting there, buried inside of you, surrounded by his friends while they have no idea; feeling your walls around him, warm and perfect, while he pretends to care about anything except how good you feelâ
âGuess weâll find out,â he says as he captures your mouth in a kiss.
This is insane. Unhinged. Absolutely fucking perfect.
And as he holds you close, feeling your warmth around him, Hyunjin knows with absolute certainty that heâs completely, irrevocably down horrendous for you.
Best decision he ever made.
âItâs been ten minutes,â you mumble against his neck when he still hasnât moved.
âYou feel good,â he whispers back. So good. Perfect. Like you were made for him. He never wants to leave this feelingâburied inside you, connected to you in the most intimate way possible.
âWhat happened to going back downstairs and having me sit on it? Donât want your boys to know that youâre a simp?â
He pulls back to look at you, something fierce and possessive flaring in his chest. âSimp? Baby, Iâve been pussy-whipped since the first time I tasted you. They already know.â
âThen why are we still up here?â
âBecauseââ He rolls his hips experimentally and they both groan. âFuck, because Iâm trying really hard to behave and you feel so goddamn good that Iâm about two seconds from saying fuck it and just pounding you into Hanâs bed.â
âHe would kill you.â
âWorth it,â he mutters but heâs already pulling out slowly, making them both whimper at the loss. He tucks himself back into his jeans, adjusting until you canât really tell, then pulls your skirt back down. âOkay. Okay, we can do this. Weâre adults. We have self-control.â
âDo we though?â
âNo,â he admits with a slightly hysterical laugh. âNo, we absolutely donât. But weâre going to try anyway because I want to see if you can actually do it. Want to see you squirm on my lap trying to keep quiet while Iâm buried inside you.â
He pulls you up, steadying you when your legs shake slightly. His hands smooth down your skirt, then slide around to cup your ass.
âNo underwear,â he reminds you, voice rough. The thought of itâyou walking back down there with nothing beneath your skirt except his cum when this is all overâmakes him dizzy. âLots of people down there and youâve got nothing under this tiny fucking skirt except me when you sit back down.â
âWhose fault is that? Youâre the one who took them.â
âAnd Iâm keeping them,â he says smugly, patting his pocket. Another trophy. Another piece of evidence that youâre his. âNow come on, before someone comes looking for us.â
He leads you back downstairs, hand possessively on your lower back. A few people glance your way, but no one seems suspicious; just friends returning from wherever.
His spot on the couch is still empty, his friends still talking and laughing. The room is dimly lit, most of the light coming from colored LEDs and the occasional phone screen, the rest of the party having migrated to other areas of the house. Perfect. Dark enough for what youâre about to do.
Han looks up when they approach, grinning. âThere you are! Thought you got lost.â
âBathroom line,â you say smoothly and Hyunjin loves how easily the little white lie spills from your lips. How readily youâre going along with your insane suggestion and his plan.
He sits down first in the corner of the couch where itâs darkest, pulling you immediately onto his lap. You settle against him and he can feel your slight nervousness, your anticipation. His hands slide to your hips, adjusting your position, and then he shifts beneath you.
âWhat are youââ you start to whisper, but then heâs worked his cock free under you, hidden by the darkness and your skirt and then heâs guiding you back onto him with careful, subtle movements.
âShh,â he breathes against your ear. âJust relax. Let meââ
The angle is different like this, and it takes a moment of careful adjustment; him lifting his hips slightly, you shifting your weight, both moving in tiny increments that look like normal fidgeting to anyone watching. The roomâs darkness helps, shadows concealing the way his hand disappears under your skirt to line himself up properly.
Then heâs pushing inside, inch by torturous inch, and you have to turn your face into his neck to muffle the whimper that threatens to escape. He bites down on his own lip hard enough to taste copper, fighting the urge to groan at how fucking perfect you feel.
It feels like forever, this careful invasion, until finally heâs fully seated and youâre both trying to breathe normally. His hands settle on your waist, holding you still and he takes a moment to just revel in it; the heat of you, the tight grip of you around him, the knowledge that youâre doing this right here, right now, with everyone around you completely oblivious.
âGood girl,â he breathes directly into your ear, quiet enough that only you can hear. His hand splays across your stomach, feeling the soft curve there, grounding himself. âNow sit pretty and donât move.â
He can feel your heart racing; can feel the way youâre trembling slightly. From arousal or nerves or both, heâs not sure but you settle against him, and fuck, you feel so good. So warm and tight and perfect around him.
This is insane. This is the craziest thing heâs ever done. And heâs never been more turned on in his life.
âI hate you,â you whisper back but it comes out shaky.
âNo you donât.â His lips brush your shoulder, innocent to anyone watching. âYou love this. Love knowing that Iâm inside you right now and nobody knows. That youâre completely filled with me while youâre making small talk with my friends.â
Felix is asking you something about your major and you have to focus, have to form coherent words while Hyunjin is thick, hard and long inside you, while every tiny shift makes you want to grind down.
âEnglish Literature and Language Education,â you manage. âIâmâahââ Hyunjin shifts slightly and you have to cover it with a cough. âIâm doing my Masterâs.â
âThatâs cool,â Felix says, oblivious. âMust be how you met Hyunjin then?â
âYeah,â Hyunjin answers for you, and you can hear the smile in his voice. âShe was the teaching assistant for my class. Couldnât take my eyes off her.â
His hand slides up under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, fingers splayed possessively. To anyone watching it just looks like heâs holding you, being affectionate. They canât see the way his thumb is tracing patterns on your skin, the way every small movement makes him shift inside you.
âYou okay?â Han asks, looking at you with slight concern. âYou seem flushed.â
âJust warm,â you say quickly. âLots of people.â
âWant me to grab you some water?â he offers, starting to stand.
âNo!â You say it too quickly, too desperately, because if Han leaves that means attention on you and youâre not sure you can handle that right now. âNo, Iâm fine. Really.â
Hyunjinâs quiet laugh vibrates through you. His lips find your ear again. âCareful, Muse. Donât want to seem too eager. They might figure out what weâre doing.â
âThis was your idea,â you hiss back.
âAnd you suggested it first before I agreed to it,â he counters. âSo now youâre going to sit here, full of my cock and be a good girl while I decide when Iâm ready to take you home and fuck you properly.â
Youâre going to die. Youâre actually going to die right here on Hwang Hyunjinâs lap while his friends talk about nothing and he stays buried inside you like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
âBreathe,â he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach even though his cock is literally throbbing inside you. âYouâre doing so good, baby. So perfect for me.â
Another ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Conversation flows around you and somehow you participate, laugh at jokes, respond to questions, all while fighting the desperate need to move, to grind down, to get any kind of friction.
Hyunjin is iron control beneath you, not moving except for the occasional adjustment that makes you dig your nails into his thigh. His breathing is measured, his voice steady when he talks, giving absolutely nothing away.
âYouâre evil,â you finally whisper when thereâs a lull in conversation.
âYou love it,â he whispers back. Then, louder, to his friends: âActually, I think weâre gonna head out. Itâs getting late.â
âItâs barely midnight,â Seungmin protests.
âYeah, but weâve gotââ Hyunjin seems to search for an excuse, ââplans tomorrow. Early plans.â
âPlans. Right. Sure,â Hanâs grin is absolutely knowing.
âShut up,â Hyunjin mutters. He shifts you forward carefully, and you feel him slip out as you stand, biting back a whimper at the loss. Heâs quick to adjust himself while you smooth down your skirt, both of you trying to look casual.
âThanks for coming,â Felix says, and you manage a smile.
âThanks for having me. Happy New Year.â
âAnytime!â Han calls as Hyunjin grabs both your coat and his jacket before he practically drags you toward the door. âNice meeting you officially and Happy New Year too.â
The second youâre outside, Hyunjin has you pressed against his car, kissing you breathless.
âHome,â he growls against your mouth. âNow. Because Iâm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.â
âPromise?â you ask breathlessly.
His answering smile is absolutely feral. âOh, baby. Thatâs a guarantee.â
He fumbles with his keys, gets the car unlocked but the second youâre both inside heâs on you again. Kissing you desperately, hands everywhere and youâre crawling into his lap in the driverâs seat like you canât bear even the distance between the front seats.
âWe shouldââ you gasp between kisses, ââshould driveââ
âCanât,â he groans, already pushing your coat and skirt up. âNeed you right now. Need to be inside you right fucking now.â
âHyunjin, weâre in a parking lotââ
âDonât care.â His hands find your ass, gripping hard, grinding you down against the obvious bulge in his jeans. âNeed you too much. Been sitting there with you on my cock and I canât, I needââ
Youâre already reaching for his belt, as desperate as he is. âBackseat. At least the backseat.â
He practically shoves you off him, both of you scrambling into the back in a tangle of limbs that would be funny if you werenât so desperate. The space is cramped but you make it work, Hyunjin pulling you back onto his lap as soon as heâs seated.
âSomeone could seeââ you start but heâs already pushing his jeans down, freeing himself.
âTinted windows,â he says, pulling you up to position you over him. âAnd I parked in the back. No oneâs gonnaâfuckââ
You sink down onto him in one smooth motion and you both groan, loud and unrestrained now that youâre alone. The angle is deeper like this, the space forcing you close together and itâs perfect.
âMove,â he demands, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. His fingers dig into the flesh there, anchoring you. âFuck, Muse, moveâŠpleaseââ
You do, riding him hard and fast, chasing the release youâve both been desperate for. The car rocks with your movements, windows already starting to fog and neither of you care. His mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, marking you up while you bounce on his cock like your life depends on it.
âThatâs it,â he groans, one hand sliding between you to find your clit. âTake what you need, baby. Use me. Fuck, youâre so perfect like this, so desperate for itââ
âYour fault,â you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. âYour fault forâahâfor making me sit thereââ
âWorth it,â he pants, his other hand gripping your ass, helping you move, guiding you down harder onto him. âSo fucking worth it to feel you like this now. So wet, so tightâbeen thinking about this the whole timeââ
Your thighs are burning but you donât stop, canât stop, chasing the orgasm thatâs been building since you first sat on his lap inside. His fingers on your clit are relentless, his cock hitting deep with every bounce, and youâre so closeâ
âCome for me,â he demands, voice strained. âCome on my cock, Muse. Let me feel it.â
You do, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you, clenching around him so hard he follows immediately with a string of curses and your name, spilling inside you while you both shake apart.
You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweaty and satisfied and completely wrecked. The windows are completely fogged now, the car still rocking slightly with the aftermath.
âWeâre never doing that again,â you mumble against his neck.
âLiar,â he says, but he sounds just as destroyed. âYou loved every second of it.â
And God help you but heâs right. The thrill of it, the risk, the way heâd looked at you all night like he was barely holding himself back; it was intoxicating.
âWe should probably get out of here before someone actually does see us,â you point out, still not moving.
âIn a minute.â His arms tighten around you, holding you close. One hand strokes up and down your back, the other still resting on your hip. âJustâŠgive me a minute.â
You let him have it, both of you catching your breath in the cramped backseat of his car. His touch is soothing now rather than demanding, and you feel yourself relaxing despite everything.
âThat was insane,â you finally say.
âThat was hot as fuck,â he corrects. âYou, sitting on my lap with my cock inside you while my friends had no idea? Thatâs going in the spank bank for the rest of my life.â
You smack his chest but youâre laughing. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âYou like it.â He pauses, and thereâs that vulnerability again, peeking through. âYou like me.â
âYeah,â you admit, because fuck it, youâre already in this deep. âI do.â
His smile is brilliant even in the dim light filtering through the fogged windows. âGood. Because Iâm definitely not letting you go now.â
âPossessive bastard.â
âYour possessive bastard,â he corrects and kisses you soft and sweet, so different from the desperate claiming just minutes ago.
Eventually you do have to move, have to untangle yourselves and make yourselves presentable enough to drive. Hyunjin insists on taking you back to his place this time.
âMine or yours?â he asks as he drives, one hand on your thigh. âEither way I want to wake up with you tomorrow. Actually wake up with you, not you kicking me out before Iâm barely awake.â
âYours.â You reply knowing heâs never going to let you live that down so you donât argue, just let him drive you to his apartment. Itâs small but clean, surprisingly organized for a college guy. He leads you straight to his bedroom and youâre barely through the door before heâs on you again.
This time is different. Slower. He undresses you carefully, reverently, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he reveals. Maps your body with his hands and mouth like heâs trying to memorize it.
âSo beautiful,â he murmurs against your stomach, your hip, your thigh. âCanât believe I get to have you like this.â
When he finally pushes inside you again, itâs slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours. One hand laces with yours above your head, the other cupping your face as he moves.
âWanted this for so long,â he breathes, and thereâs something raw in his voice that makes your chest tight. âWanted you.â
You pull him down into a kiss, pouring everything you canât say into it. He makes love to you like thatâslow and thorough and achingly tenderâuntil youâre both falling apart again, quieter this time but no less intense.
After, he cleans you up and pulls you into his arms, your back to his chest, his face buried in your hair.
âStay,â he says quietly. âNot just tonight. Stay tomorrow too. Let me make you breakfast, take you on another date. Let me have you for the whole weekend and after that.â
You should say no. Should maintain some boundaries, some sense of self-preservation.
âOkay,â you say instead.
His arms tighten around you, and you feel him smile against your neck. âYeah?â
âYeah. But youâre actually making me breakfast this time. None of this ordering in bullshit.â
His laugh is warm and fond. âDeal. I make a mean omelette.â
âWeâll see about that.â
âSo competitive,â he teases, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. âItâs hot.â
âEverything is hot to you.â
âWhen it involves you? Yeah.â No shame, no hesitation. Just honesty. âYou make me crazy, Muse.â
âThe feelingâs mutual,â you admit quietly.
He shifts, turning you in his arms so he can look at you. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.
âI know youâre scared,â he says softly. âI know this is complicated and Iâm younger than you and people are going to have opinions. But I donât care about any of that. I just care about you.â
Your throat feels tight. âHyunjinââ
âYou donât have to say anything,â he interrupts gently. âJustâŠgive me this weekend. Let me show you how good this could be. And if at the end of it you still want to keep me at armâs length, Iâll respect that. I wonât like it, but Iâll respect it.â
You study his face; the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability heâs showing you. This boy who could have anyone, whoâs choosing you.
âThis weekend,â you agree. âBut Hyunjin? Iâm already in deeper than I meant to be.â
His smile is soft, understanding. âGood. Because so am I, probably been this way since before we hooked up if Iâm being honest.
âThat was almost a year ago.â
âI know.â He presses his forehead to yours. âTook me months to work up the courage to even talk to you outside of class. A couple more to convince you to give me a chance. Iâm playing the long game here, Muse.â
Something warm and terrifying blooms in your chest. âYouâre really serious about this.â
âDead serious.â He kisses you softly. âNow sleep. Weâve got a whole weekend ahead of us, and I plan to make the most of every minute.â
You let him pull you close, let yourself relax into his warmth. And for the first time in months, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.
âHyunjin?â you murmur, already half-asleep.
âMm?â
âYou better not fuck this up.â
His laugh rumbles through his chest. âI wonât. Promise.Happy New Year,Muse.â
You whisper it back to him, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, as you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.
Maybe Hwang Hyunjin being pussy-whipped isnât such a bad thing after all.
3 weeks into the semester and I wonder if it's too late to contemplate other methods but then I remember that God would probably use me as an example so I'm pushing through. Anyways I have something for Hyuneâs bday which I'll try to post after classes tomorrow night.
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Summary: What starts as a game becomes a night of stolen kisses, ending with Chan asking for your number and promising he wants more of whatever started building between you two. Carefully orchestrated dates where Chan exercises deliberate, maddening restraint, kissing you thoroughly at every doorway before pulling back and saying goodnight. Each date builds tension as he makes it clear heâs savoring the buildup, taking his time because he wants you to know this matters. As the dates go by, his composed patience and the accumulated wanting has you both unraveling at the edges.
Warnings: non-idol!au, bang chan x f.reader, smut but itâs not graphic still MDNI!, oral(m&f.rec),lots of kisses,slowish burn, week/months of buildup as foreplay, they say hi to each other a lot because I think itâs cute and itâs also just them checking in with each other through the entire thing, multiple rounds on every possible surface in his apartment(he has a thought out list),mentions of 97line friendship, itâs not explicitly mentioned but theyâve known each other for a while so itâs not some love at first sight kinda thing, Twiceâs Jihyo as your bestie, lowkey glucose guardian Chris, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 12.8k
A/N: This was a requested piece from an anonymous ask.
It was definitely BamBamâs idea.
Youâd clocked that the moment Jaehyun had stood up with that particular grin on his face, the one that meant someone had fed him the dare in advance. The room had erupted and youâd sat very still in your corner of the couch thinking about how Jihyo owed you something significant for this, dinner, at minimum. A full apology, maybe both.
Now youâre here, cross-legged on Chanâs bedroom floor while the party carries on without you through the wall and Chan is sitting across from you close enough that you can see the small details of him you donât usually get at a distance. The way his hair falls slightly across his forehead. The particular set of his mouth when he isnât performing for anyone. Heâs watching you. Not nervously, exactly, but with a kind of attentiveness that makes the air in the room feel different.
âWe donât have to do anything if you donât wanna,â he says.
His voice is different in here. Lower. Like heâd adjusted the register of it to match the room. You donât say anything. There are several things happening in your chest simultaneously and you havenât sorted them out yet. He leans in, not aggressively; just closing the distance by a few inches, enough that youâd have to deliberately look away to avoid his eyes. He smells good. Warm. Something with a little smoke and cedar in it.
âDo you want me to kiss you?â
Not can I. Not the performative version thatâs really just waiting for the yes. A genuine question, delivered quietly, with his eyes on yours and absolutely nowhere else. The honest answer surfaces before you can overthink it.
âYes,â you say.
Something in his expression settles. Like heâd been holding something carefully and could finally set it down. He doesnât rush it. Thatâs the first thing you notice, he doesnât treat the yes as a signal to close the remaining distance as fast as possible. He reaches out first, slow enough that you see it coming, watching you while he does it, watching the way you let him, then his hand curves around the back of your neck and he brings his mouth to yours.
The kiss is unhurried in a way that feels almost indulgent.
He kisses like he has nowhere to be. Like the seven minutes on BamBamâs phone is a concept that applies to other people. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of easy confidenceânot hurried, not searching, just certain, like he already knew exactly how he wanted this to go and had decided he was going to take his time getting there. You feel yourself lean into it before you consciously decide to.
His other hand finds your knee. Rests there, warm and still.
When he tilts his head and deepens it you make a small sound you werenât planning on and he catches it like heâd been waiting for it, one hand tightening slightly at your nape, and the kiss goes slower and more deliberate in a way that does something deeply unfair to your ability to think clearly. He pulls back just barelyânot to stop, just to change the angleâand when he comes back his bottom lip drags against yours in a way that makes your fingers curl against his shirt. He notices. Of course he notices. His hand moves from your knee to your hip, unhurried, and he kisses you again like the movement of his hand and the movement of his mouth are one continuous thought.
Time stops doing anything useful.
BamBamâs knock is obnoxious, as promised.
âSeven minuteeeeesââ
Chan pulls back slowly, breathing slightly uneven. His thumb traces a short line along your jaw before his hand drops and he looks at you with an expression you donât have an immediate word for; not smug, not the grin he usually wears. Something quieter and more interested.
âYeah?â he says. Soft. Like heâs checking.
âYeah,â you say.
The door swings open and BamBam reads the room with approximately zero subtlety. âOh, interesting,â he says to no one and everyone. Chan stands, easy, unhurried, you follow and Sora says something pointed to her friends that you decide not to hear.
The game moves on without you the way these things do. Someone gets dared to text their situationship. Jaehyun ends up with a dare involving ice that he refuses to explain after the fact. The room rearranges itself and you find a spot near the edge of the living room where the energy is slightly less loud. Youâre standing there, drink in hand, half-listening to a conversation nearby, when you feel warmth at your back.
Chan doesnât say anything at first. He just steps up behind you, close enough that youâre aware of him the way youâd be aware of a fire nearby, heat and presence, not quite touching. Then his hand finds the small of your back and he leans down so his mouth is at your ear.
âHi,â he says.
Thatâs it. Just hi. But his lips brush your ear when he says it and his hand presses slightly at your back and you feel it everywhere.
âHi,â you manage.
He turns you gently by the hipâsubtle enough that no oneâs watching, or maybe he doesnât care whoâs watchingâand walks you backward two steps until your back meets the wall of the hallway just off the living room. He looks at you in the low light with that same considering expression and then he dips down and kisses you slow and deep against the wall, one forearm braced above your head, his other hand settled at your waist with his thumb tracing a slow path just beneath the hem of your shirt against your skin. You grab the front of his shirt and he smiles against your mouth before he pulls back.
âThere you are,â he says quietly, like heâd been looking for something and found it.
An hour later you step out onto the balcony because the apartment had gotten loud, warm and you needed two minutes of cold air and the wide quiet of the city at night. Youâre leaning on the railing, eyes closed, when you hear the glass door slide open. You donât need to turn around. His arms come around you from behind, chin dropping to your shoulder and he stays there for a moment just breathing.
âHiding?â he asks.
âGetting air.â
âSure.â
His mouth finds the curve of your neck, and you exhale shakily. He presses a slow kiss thereâopen-mouthed, unhurried, and then his teeth graze the skin just beneath your jaw with enough intention that you grip the railing.
âChanââ
âMmmh.â He doesnât stop. He kisses up the side of your neck, his hands sliding from your waist to your stomach, pulling you back against him, you can feel how interested he is in the situation and it makes thinking substantially harder. He mouths at the spot just below your ear until you turn in his arms because you need to kiss him properly and he meets you immediately, one hand coming up to grip your jaw with a kind of deliberate possession that pulls a sound from you that youâll be embarrassed about later.
The kiss is less slow now. Still deep but hungrier, his body pressing yours back against the balcony railing, his hand sliding to your nape and tilting your head exactly where he wants it. You get your hands under his jacket, and he makes a low sound against your mouth that you feel more than hear. When he pulls back, he looks at the mark heâs left on the side of your neck with open satisfaction.
âThatâs going to be visible,â you say.
âGood,â he says simply, and kisses you again before you can respond to that.
By the time people start leaving in earnest youâve lost count. A kiss stolen while you stood in the kitchen doorway. His mouth at your temple, brief and warm, while Jihyo was distracted on her phone. A longer, slower one in the dim hallway when the crowd had thinned enough to make it almost private, his hands on your ass, yours draped over his shoulders, both of you slightly breathless when youâd finally surfaced. He walks you to the door when Jihyo announces sheâs called the car. His hand finds yours and he keeps it loosely as the group clusters at the entrance exchanging goodnights. Jihyo gives you a look of supreme, detailed significance. You ignore it completely. At the door he steps close one last time.
âI want your number,â he says. Not asking, exactly. More like stating something heâs already decided.
âThat so?âyou tease as you take his phone from his hand and put your number in.
âIâm going to find more reasons to do that,â he says, and the directness of itâno deflection, no performanceâcatches you somewhere low in your chest. His hand comes up and his thumb brushes over the mark on your neck, lightly, and his eyes find yours. âIf you want.â
The car is outside. Jihyo is very pointedly already halfway out the door. You lean up and kiss him once more, slow and brief with enough intent to make the point, and you feel his hand catch your waist for just a second before you pull back.
âText me,â you say.
The look on his face when you walk awayâwarm, unhurried, certainâstays with you the whole ride home.
The first date is dinner.
Not a casual, letâs-grab-food-somewhere kind of dinner. A reservation. A place with low lighting and a wine list and a host who leads you to a corner table that feels deliberately chosen. Chan is already there when you arrive, standing when he sees you and the way his eyes move over you when you approach is slow enough to make your face warm before youâve even sat down.
âYou look good,â he says. Simple, like a fact.
âYou clean up well yourself,â you say, because he does; dark shirt, collar open just enough and he smells the way he had on the balcony that night, warm and faintly woody, and your memory does something unhelpful with that information immediately.
Dinner is easy in a way you hadnât fully anticipated. Chan is good at conversation in the way that some people are naturally good at itâhe listens like he means it, follows threads, asks questions that show heâd actually retained the last thing you said. You talk about your work; he talks about his and somewhere in the middle of the second glass of wine you realize youâve been leaning toward him across the table for the better part of an hour.
âGoodnight,â he says again, with the edge of a smile, and kisses your forehead once before he steps back.
You stand at your door and watch him go and feel the specific frustration of someone who has just been handled with great expertise.
The second date is a movie at his place.
Youâd thoughtâreasonablyâthat come over and watch something was a particular kind of invitation. Youâd shown up in something casual that was also not entirely accidental. Youâd been prepared. What you had not been prepared for was Chan, who makes popcorn with real butter and argues earnestly about film scores and pulls you into his side on the couch so naturally that youâre tucked against him with his arm around you before youâve registered the transition. He smells good. Heâs warm. His thumb traces absent patterns on your shoulder throughout the movie and every time you shift slightly, he tightens his arm around you in a way that suggests heâs paying some attention to you in addition to the screen.
Halfway through he tips his head down and presses a kiss to your temple. Then your cheekbone. Then he turns you gently by the chin and kisses your mouth, slow and soft and unhurried, tasting faintly of salt, and you get your hand in his hair, and he makes a low, quiet sound against you and then he pulls back. Settles you back against his side. Returns his attention to the movie with an expression of perfect composure. You stare at the screen unseeing for several minutes.
At the door again, at the end of the night, the kiss is longer. His hands at your hips, yours gripping his jacket, his mouth moving against yours with intent and patience in equal measure. You press closer and he lets you, hands tightening, and just when youâve decided something is finally going to give, he pulls back and looks at you with dark, steady eyes.
âIâll call you,â he says. He does the next morning.
The third date he takes you to a gallery, which you hadnât expected, and he stands close behind you in front of each piece with his chin nearly at your shoulder, speaking quietly about what he sees in it, what it reminds him of. His hand finds the small of your back and stays there the entire afternoonânot pulling, not directing, just present, warm and consistent, and you are aware of it with a focus that has very little to do with the art.
In a quieter corridor near the back, while two other visitors murmur on the far end, he turns you toward him and kisses you unhurriedly against the wall. Deep and slow. His hands bracketing your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, like he has all the time in the world and has decided to spend it here specifically. You make a small, frustrated sound against his mouth and his chest shakes with something low and quiet, not quite a laugh. More like satisfaction.
âChris,â you say against him.
âHmmm?â
âYouâre doing this on purpose.â
He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are darker than usual and the composure he wears is slightly less airtight than it was twenty minutes ago, which is at least something.
âDoing what?â he asks, with innocence that fools neither of you.
You give him a look. He gives you a small, unhurried smile, and kisses you once moreâsoft and brief and devastating in its restraintâbefore taking your hand and steering you back toward the main galleries like nothing happened.
The fourth date is dinner again, different restaurant, closer to your place this time. Easier commute, heâd said on the phone. Practical. Itâs not practical. You both know it isnât practical. Heâs better at keeping his composure than youâve given him credit for, thatâs the thing. He watches you across the table with those steady, attentive eyes and finds every opportunity to touch youâyour hand when heâs making a point, your knee briefly beneath the table, his fingers at your wrist when youâre both reaching for the wineâand every contact is casual enough to read as unconscious and deliberate enough that you know it absolutely isnât.
You lean forward at one point, elbows on the table, and say, âYou know what youâre doing.â
He tilts his head slightly. âWhat am I doing?â
âDrawing it out.â
Heâs quiet for a moment. Takes a slow sip of his wine. His eyes donât leave yours.
âI like the buildup,â he says simply.
âChris...â
âI like knowing exactly how much you want it before we get there.â He sets his glass down. Calm, unhurried. âDonât you?â
The honest answer, which you resent slightly, is yes. Youâve been thinking about him with an intensity and frequency that would be embarrassing to quantify. Every slow kiss at every door has left you with the specific, accumulated frustration of someone who keeps getting handed the first chapter of something and being told the rest is coming. And he knows that. Heâs been watching you figure it out for weeks.
âYouâre insufferable,â you say.
âYou keep showing up,â he points out.
Correct. Accurate. Fully damning.
At your door at the end of the fourth date, he kisses you the way he sometimes does when his composure slips slightly; deeper, both hands in your hair, your back against the doorframe and his body warm and close and there. You get your hands under his jacket, and he exhales against your mouth, and for a long moment the careful, practiced restraint heâs been maintaining feels genuinely fragile.
He pulls back. Breathing slightly uneven this time. Thatâs new.
He presses his mouth to your jaw. Your neck. Lingers at the spot below your ear that heâd already catalogued as effective on the balcony that first night, and you feel your fingers tighten in his shirt.
âBaby,â you say, and it comes out less steady than you intend.
He lifts his head and looks at you. Something in his expression is quieter than usual. More open. âSoon,â he says. Low. Like a promise with a specific weight to it.
Not eventually. Not someday. Soon.
He kisses your forehead and steps back and you watch him go for the fifth time at this same door and the wanting follows you all the way inside and doesnât really go anywhere after that.
You are, you think, extraordinarily in trouble.
Youâd cleaned your apartment twice.
Not because it was dirtyâit wasnât, particularlyâbut because Chan was coming over for the first time and thereâs a difference between knowing someone and letting them into the specific, curated intimacy of your living space. The books youâd left on the coffee table. The throw blanket on the couch that had seen better days but that you couldnât bring yourself to replace. The small, accumulated details of a life that hadnât been arranged for anyone elseâs benefit.
He shows up with two pizza boxes and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm, and when you open the door he looks at you firstâjust for a moment, the same way he always does, like heâs taking inventoryâbefore his eyes move past you into the apartment.
âNice,â he says and he means it. He steps inside and takes it in properly, setting the boxes down on your kitchen counter and looking around with genuine interest. Picks up a small ceramic thing on your shelf, examines it, sets it back exactly where it was. Reads the spines of your books. Pauses on a framed photo.
âThis you?â he asks.
âObviously.â
âYou still have a baby face.â He says it like itâs a thing heâd been curious about. He looks around for another moment and then at you, and thereâs something settled in his expression. Comfortable. Like heâd walked into a room and found it matched what heâd imagined. âI like it.â
You pour the wine while he opens the boxes and you eat on the couch the way youâd both independently imagined this night going; pizza balanced on the coffee table, some movie neither of you will fully follow playing on the TV, the easy quiet of two people whoâve gotten past the performing stage of things. Heâs mid-bite when he says it.
âBe my girlfriend.â
Not will you or I was thinking maybe. Just that. Like heâs stating something that already exists and simply needs your confirmation. He doesnât look at you when he says it, eyes still on the screen, jaw working through his pizza, utterly and almost infuriatingly casual. Then he reaches into the front pocket of his jacketâdraped over the arm of your couchâand sets something on the coffee table between the pizza boxes.
An open jewelry box. Chrome Hearts, the hardware unmistakable, the gold matching the silver Tiny E Choke chain sitting at his collarbone that youâd clocked the first time youâd seen him in a v-neck and filed away without meaning to.
You look at it. Then at him. He finally glances over. Waiting.
âYou bought this before asking me,â you say.
âI was confident,â he says.
âThatâsââ
âArrogant, probably.â The corner of his mouth moves. âYou gonna say yes or are you gonna keep stating facts?â
You pick up the necklace. The weight of it is immediately apparentâcool and solid in your palm, the kind of quality you feel before you fully register it. You look at the one at his throat.
âPut it on me,â you say.
Something in his expression shifts. Still composed, but warmer underneath it. He takes it from your palm, you turn lifting your hair, and his hands are steady and unhurried at the back of your neck. When the clasp catches, he doesnât move away immediately. His hands rest lightly on your shoulders, and his mouth brushes the back of your neckâsoft, briefâbefore you turn back around. The necklace settles at your collarbone. His eyes drop to it for a moment.
âYeah,â he says quietly. âThere.â
The movie plays. You finish the pizza. The wine gets poured a second time.
At some point the space between you closes the way it always doesâgradually, without announcement, until youâre fitted against his side with his arm around you and his hand making those absent, familiar patterns on your arm. The lamp in the corner is low. The city outside your window is a quiet hum. The necklace sits cool against your skin and every time youâre aware of it something in your chest does something inconvenient.
You turn your head and look at him.
Heâs watching the screen. The line of his jaw in the low light. The chain at his throat. The particular quality of stillness he has when heâs relaxed, unhurried, his guard fully down in a way youâve only started to see recently. Youâve been on the receiving end of this for weeks. The slow kisses at doorways. The careful, deliberate buildup. His hands and his mouth and his composure, all deployed with a patience that has had you losing your mind incrementally since that first night on the balcony.
Youâre done waiting for it to come to you.
You turn into him and kiss his jaw. His hand stills on your arm.
You kiss it again, slower, closer to the corner of his mouth, and then you move downâhis jaw, the hinge of it, the side of his neckâand you feel his breath change. The hand on your arm doesnât pull you back. Doesnât redirect. His head tilts slightly, just slightly, giving you room.
So you take it.
You mouth at the curve of his neck with intentionânot gentle, not passing. You find the spot below his jaw and you stay there, sucking a slow mark into his skin, and his hand grips your arm.
âHey,â he says. Low. Not a protest.
âHi,â you say against his neck.
You feel his chest move. Something between a breath and a laugh, quietly undone. You press another open kiss lower, at the side of his throat and the hand on your arm loosens and slides to your waist and you take that as the information it is.
You shift. Swing a leg over and settle into his lap properly, knees bracketing his thighs, and his hands move to your hips with the immediacy of someone whoâs been waiting for somewhere to put them. The chrome hearts chain swings slightly forward as you look down at him. His composure is doing something interesting. Still presentâstill Chan, still steadyâbut the edges of it are softer. His eyes are dark and his hands at your hips are warm and certain and when you roll forward, just slightly, testing, his fingers dig in and a low sound leaves his throat that does something catastrophic to your ability to think in straight lines.
âYouâve been doing this to me for weeks,â you say. Close to his ear, voice low. You feel the way he responds to itâhands tightening, the subtle shift of his breathing. âEvery time at the door. Every time you pulled back.â
âI know,â he says. Rough at the edges.
âWas that fun for you?â
âYeah.â An exhale. âA little bit.â
You bite his earlobe and he grips your hips hard enough to bruise, and you smile against his skin. You move back to his neck. Find a spot lower this time, where his collar sits, and you work another mark into his skin slowly and with great attention while his hands guide your hips in a rhythm thatâs barely-there and devastating. His head falls back against the couch. His throat works. You pull back to look at what youâve left thereâtwo marks, both visible, both unmistakableâand something deeply satisfied moves through you.
âFairâs fair,â you say.
He looks at you with dark, blown eyes and the loosened composure of someone whose careful strategy has successfully backfired on him, and underneath that, something that looks very much like admiration. Your lips brush the hinge of his jaw again. Travel deliberately back to his ear.
âCan I taste you?â you ask. Quiet. Direct.
His hands still on your hips. Not pulling back. Not redirecting. JustâŠstill, for a held moment, like heâs making sure heâs heard you correctly. Then one hand slides up your back and into your hair and he tilts your head back enough to look at you properly. His eyes search yours. Dark and steady and certain.
âYeah,â Chan says. Voice low and unhurried and entirely unwound. The composure thatâs survived five dates and every deliberate, practiced act of restraint now thoroughly, quietly dismantled. âYeah. Go ahead.â
You hold his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, just to watch him wait for it. His jaw tightens slightly. His hands are warm and still in your hair and at your hip and heâs looking at you the way he had across every dinner tableâsteady, patientâexcept the patience now has a frayed edge to it that you find enormously satisfying.
âYouâre doing it again,â he says.
âDoing what?â
âLooking at me like that.â
âLike what?â you ask, and kiss his jaw so softly it barely counts. His grip tightens. You smile.
You take your time getting there.
Thatâs the first thing. Youâd decided somewhere around the second dateâwatching him pull back with that composed, deliberate expression while you stood at your door trying to remember how breathing workedâthat if you ever got here first, you were going to take your time. You start at his mouth. Kiss him slow and deep until his hands are restless in your hair, until heâs kissing back with an urgency thatâs a little more honest than his usual careful control. Then you pull away from his mouth and he followsâcatches himselfâand you feel more than hear the low, frustrated exhale that escapes him.
âEasy,â you say softly.
âDonât,â he says, âtell me to be easy right now.â
You kiss his cheek. His jaw. The corner of his mouth when he turns toward you instinctively, and you pull back just in time so he catches nothing.
âHeyââ
âShh.â You press your lips to the hinge of his jaw and he goes still underneath you with great visible effort. âIâve got you.â
You feel him exhale through his nose. Feel the deliberate way he loosens his hands in your hair. Choosing to let you lead, which from Chan is somethingâyou understand that. You press a kiss to the soft skin just below his ear in acknowledgment and he shivers, which you file away immediately. Down the side of his neck. You take your time here because youâve thought about this specifically, about getting his collar out of the way and having access to all of it. You push it aside and drag your mouth slow across his collarbone and his head tips back against the couch cushion and he says your name once, low, like it left without permission.
You look up at him from there.
He looks wrecked already. Hair slightly disheveled from your hands, throat marked from earlier, chest rising and falling with a breathing pattern that has abandoned its usual steadiness. He looks down at you with dark, blown eyes and the particular expression of a man who has been extremely patient for a very long time and is now experiencing the consequences of all of it arriving at once.
âHi,â you say.
âYou think this is funny,â he says. His voice has dropped to something rough and low that moves through you like a current.
âI think itâs fair,â you say, and press another open, slow kiss to his collarbone. âYou left me at my door five times, Chan.â
âI know.â His hand slides through your hair. Not directing, just feeling. âI know I did.â
âOn purpose.â
âYes.â
âDid you think about this?â you ask. Mouth moving lower. You work at the buttons of his shirt, one at a time, unhurried. âWhen you were being so patient. Did you think about what would happen when I finally got here?â
A beat of silence.
âYeah,â he says. Rough. âA lot.â
His shirt falls open and you take a moment to just look, which you can tell costs him something in the way his hands go still and careful like heâs trying very hard not to rush you. You spread your palms flat against his stomach and feel the muscle jump beneath your hands. Drag them slowly up his chest and watch his throat move as he swallows.
âYouâre doing this intentionally,â he says.
âMmmhm.â You lean down and press your mouth to the center of his chest. Feel his heartbeat against your lips, quicker than heâd ever let you hear in it his voice. âHow does that feel?â
He makes a sound thatâs not quite a word.
âI couldnât hear you,â you say pleasantly, kissing across his chest to his ribs.
âI willââ he starts.
âYouâll what?â
He tips his head back and says nothing, jaw tight, and you smile against his skin and continue.
You move slowly off his lap, trailing your mouth down the center of his stomach, and his hands follow youâsmoothing down your shoulders, the sides of your neck, tangling in your hair againâmaintaining contact because apparently he needs to be touching you right now, which you understand. You feel the same pull toward him constantly, have since the first night, and thereâs something quietly leveling about watching it operate on him now.
You settle between his knees and look up at him.
His eyes are very dark and very focused. The composed, careful Chan of five dinners and doorstep kisses is largely gone; whatâs left is warmer, more open, the version of him youâve been catching glimpses of and wanting the rest of. You hold his gaze and slowly, deliberately, work open his belt. He watches. Jaw set. Hands in your hair going still. You take your time. Of course you do. You get his belt open and his button undone and you press a slow kiss just below his navel and feel his stomach contract sharply under your mouth.
âYouâre going to kill me,â he says.
âYouâre fine,â you say.
âIâm not fine.â
âYouâve been doing this to me for weeks,â you remind him gently, and mouth along the skin just above his waistband. âEvery time you pulled back at the door. Every time you kissed me exactly long enough and then stopped.â You look up at him. âRemember that?â
His eyes close briefly. âYes.â
âGood,â you say, and finally, finally give him what youâd promised.
Heâs quiet at firstâcontained, in the way that he is, processing it with that same deliberate controlâbut youâre patient now that youâve started, you know exactly what youâre doing and within a few minutes the control starts to slip in small, telling ways. His hand tightens in your hair. His breathing goes ragged at the edges, the careful evenness of it entirely abandoned. He says your name once and then again, lower, and when you take your time with a specific swirl of your tongue, he groans, low and genuine, from somewhere deep in his chest, and you feel it everywhere.
You draw it out. Sweetly, deliberately, pulling back when heâs close enough that his hips shift forward involuntarily, looking up at him with an expression of perfect attentiveness.
âDonât,â he says roughly.
âDonât what?â
âDonât stop and look at me right now, Iâm begging youââ
âYou said you liked the buildup,â you say.
He looks at the ceiling. âIâm going to lose my mind.â
âHow does that feel?â you ask, because youâd genuinely like him to sit with that for a second.
âTerrible,â he says, and you can hear the fractured quality underneath it, the genuine unraveling, and you take pity on himâmostlyâand go back, this time you donât stop.
His hand in your hair. Your name in his mouth, wrecked and low and entirely unwound. His other hand gripping the couch cushion and then letting go, dropping to your jaw, cradling it carefully even now and you feel that, the tenderness of it even here, even like this; when he finally goes over the edge itâs with your name and his head tipped back and his whole body going momentarily, completely still.
The room resettles. The movie has long since ended on its own. The lamp in the corner is still low. The city outside is its quiet, distant hum. You move back up to sit beside him, and he pulls you in immediately; arm around you, your head against his chest, his mouth pressing slow to the top of your head. His heart is still working its way back to a normal pace and you can feel it under your cheek. His hand moves through your hair.
âHi,â he says eventually. Still rough.
âHi,â you say.
A long, comfortable quiet. âCome here,â he says, and tips your chin up and kisses you slow and deep and with the particular quality of someone whoâs just had everything rearranged and is taking a moment to be grateful about it. His hand curves around your face and he kisses you like he has nowhere to be, like the night is long and he intends to stay in it.
When he pulls back, he looks at you. The necklace sitting at your collarbone. The marks on his own neck that youâd put there. Something in his expression is open in a way you hadnât seen before; the last of the careful distance heâd maintained across five dates, five doorways, finally and completely dissolved.
âIâve been thinking about this since the balcony,â he says.
âI know,â you say. âSo have I.â
His thumb traces your lower lip. Eyes following it.
âItâs my turn,â he says quietly.
The words sit in the air between you. Chan looks at you with dark, unhurried eyes and the particular quality of patience that you now understand is not passivityânever has been. Itâs intention. Itâs someone who has thought carefully about what they want and decided to take their time getting it exactly right.
âMy turn,â he confirms.
âWeâre keeping score now?â you ask.
âWeâve been keeping score,â he says. âYou know that.â
You do know that. Youâve known it since the second date when heâd kissed you on his couch and pulled back with that composed expression while youâd sat there completely unraveled. The score has been running the whole time, quiet and patient, and youâd just spent the last hour settling a significant portion of it and you knowâlooking at him now, at the steadiness in his eyes and the warmth underneath itâthat heâs been waiting his turn with the same specific, detailed attention he brings to everything.
âOkay,â you say.
The corner of his mouth moves. Just slightly.
âOkay,â he says.
He starts at your mouth. Of course he does. He cups your face in both hands the way he had at every door across every date and kisses you slowly, thoroughly, taking the time to relearn it now that thereâs nowhere else to be and no reason to stop. His thumbs trace your cheekbones, and you feel the familiar pull of himâthat particular gravityâand lean into it the way you always do.
Then his mouth moves. Your jaw. The soft skin beneath it. He finds your pulse point with unerring accuracy and presses his lips there, open and warm, and you feel your head tip back without your permission.
âChrisââ
âShh,â he says against your neck. âIâve got you.â
Your own words. Delivered back to you with a composure you know is at least partly performance, and youâd find it infuriating if his mouth wasnât currently doing something to your throat that makes thinking feel like a distant, theoretical activity. He kisses down the side of your neck slowly, cataloguing. Learning which spots make your breath catch, which ones pull sounds from you that you donât entirely chooseâand he remembers all of it, you can tell. Files it away with the same attentiveness heâd brought to every conversation across every dinner table.
He finds a spot at the curve of your neck and shoulder and stays there. Works at it with his mouth until you grip his hair and he hums against your skin, satisfied.
âFairâs fair,â he says, quietly.
He moves you, not hurriedâeverything he does is unhurriedâbut deliberate. His hands find your waist and shift you until your back meets the couch cushions and heâs leaning over you, one arm braced, and he looks at you for a moment before continuing like he wants to see your face. The lamp catches the necklace at your collarbone and his eyes drop to it for just a second. He lowers his head and presses his mouth to the necklace. The skin beneath it. Drags his lips slow across your collarbone and you feel the goosebumps chase his mouth across your skin.
âBeen thinking about this,â he says, against your collarbone. âSpecifically.â
âYou mentioned that.â
âI have a good memory.â He kisses your shoulder. The strap of your top gets nudged aside and he follows the newly exposed skin without any hurry. âI remember the first time I kissed your neck on the balcony. What sounds you made.â He mouths at the curve of your shoulder and you exhale sharply. âI thought about it a lot after that.â
âHow much is a lot,â you manage.
âDistracting amount,â he says. His mouth moves back up to your jaw. âEnded up being a pretty good motivator to see you again.â
âAnd here I thought it was my personality.â
âIt was your personality,â he says, pulling back to look at you, and heâs completely serious when he says it which does something to you that has nothing to do with what his hands are doing. âAnd this.â His thumb traces your jaw. âBoth at the same time.â
He kisses you again before you can respond to that.
His hands are different from his mouth; where his mouth takes its time, his hands are warm and certain, moving across you with the confidence of someone whoâs been patient long enough and knows exactly where heâs going. Your waist, the curve of your hip, sliding beneath the hem of your top to find your skin and spread his palm flat against it. You pull him closer by the nape of his neck. He comes willingly, mouth back at your throat, and his hand travels with slow, deliberate intention. Up your side, your ribcage, his thumb tracing each curve with focus. His mouth finds a new spot at the base of your throat and stays there working at it with patience and specificity until you make a sound that breaks in the middle and his chest moves against yours with something low and warm.
âThere,â he says quietly.
âDonât be smug,â you say.
âIâm not smug.â He lifts his head to look at you. Eyes dark, mouth curved. âIâm thorough.â He dips back down before you can answer.
He maps you.
Thatâs the only word for it. Methodically, unhurriedly, like heâd planned the route in advance and intends to follow it exactly. His mouth leaves marks at your throat, your collarbone, the soft skin of your inner thighs; none of them accidental, all of them placed with intention, and when he surfaces to look at his work he does so with an expression of open, unashamed satisfaction.
âYouâre doing this on purpose,â you say. An echo.
He looks up at you from where his mouth is at your hip. âWhen do I do anything that isnât on purpose?â
Correct. Fully accurate. You pull him up by the jaw and kiss him deep and slightly desperate and he meets itâfinally drops some of the careful patience, kisses you back with enough heat that the room feels ten degrees warmer and your hands find his open shirt and pull him closer. His hand finds the curve of your waist and grips. Slides lower. Over the line of your hip, the curve of your thigh, and you shift against him and he groans quietly into your mouthâthe same low, undone sound youâd had from him earlierâand his hand tightens on your thigh and stays there.
He drags his mouth from yours to your jaw, your neck, finds one of the marks heâd made earlier and mouths over it gently, and the contrastâthe careful tenderness of it following everything elseâmakes something in your chest pull tight.
âChris,â you say. Quiet. Not frustrated this time. Just his name. He hears the difference. Lifts his head and looks at you. His hair is completely undone now. His shirt still open. The marks from your mouth dark at his throat, his jaw slightly flushed, and heâs looking at you with an expression that has nothing left hidden in itâno careful distance, no composure serving as buffer. Just him, warm and present and genuinely, entirely here. His thumb traces the line of your jaw.
âHi,â he says softly.
âHi,â you say back.
He kisses you again but slowly this time, differently; less fire and more warmth, his hand cradling the side of your face, his body settling against yours with a kind of ease that feels like something being decided. Something being named without words. When he pulls back his forehead drops to yours.
âCan I?â he asks. Not an assumption. Not casual. Just a quiet ask, offered the same direct way heâd placed the necklace on your coffee table between pizza boxes like it was already a fact. You look at him. The chain at his throat. The marks at his neck that mirror yours.
âYeah,â you say. âOkay.â
His exhale is slow and warm against your mouth.
He kisses your forehead. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth.
âGood,â Chan says simply before he shifts to his knees using his shoulders to spread your legs as his hands travel up under your dress again.
Two months after that night, youâve learned the geography of Chanâs apartment the way you learn a second languageâthrough immersion and repetition. The way the morning light comes through his bedroom window at a specific angle that means youâve slept past eight. The particular creak of the floorboard between the kitchen and the living room. Which drawer holds the good coffee mugs and which one is full of takeout chopsticks heâs been meaning to organize for months.
Youâve learned him, too. The things that donât make it into dates and doorway kisses. That heâs quiet in the mornings until heâs had his morning smoothie, that he runs warm at night and kicks the covers off around three AM, that he keeps his space cleaner than youâd expected but thereâs always one chair that becomes a catchall for clothes that arenât dirty enough for the hamper but arenât clean enough to go back in the drawer.
Itâs Saturday. Late afternoon, the kind where the day has gone soft and golden at the edges and neither of you has changed out of comfortable clothes or done anything more ambitious than order food and exist in the same space. Youâre on his couch, legs stretched across his lap, reading something on your phone while his hand absently traces patterns on your ankle. The TV is on but neither of you is watching it. This is what you do now, coexist. Comfortably. Like youâve been doing it for years instead of weeks.
âIâm thinking about dinner,â he says.
âWe just ate.â
âIâm thinking ahead.â
âRevolutionary,â you say, not looking up.
His hand slides up from your ankle to your calf, warm and present, and you feel the shift in his attention even before you glance over. Heâs watching you with that particular expression; the one that means heâs been thinking about something for a while and has just decided to act on it.
âCome here,â he says.
âIâm already here.â
âCloser.â
You set your phone down and let him pull you across the couch until youâre settled in his lap, knees bracketing his thighs in the position thatâs become familiar over the past two months. His hands find your hips immediately. The necklaceâwhich youâve worn every day since he put it on youâswings forward slightly and his eyes drop to it for just a moment before coming back to your face.
âHi,â you say.
âHi.â He leans up and kisses you, slow and easy, the kind of kiss that doesnât have anywhere to go. Just existing for its own sake. His hands are warm through your shirt and when you settle your weight more fully against him, he makes a quiet sound of contentment and deepens it slightly. This is what you do now, too. Kiss on his couch or yours without the weight of a timer or a goodbye waiting at the end of it. Itâs been two months of thisâthis careful, deliberate building of something. He still kisses you like he has all the time in the world, still touches you like heâs cataloguing, but thereâs an ease to it now. A settled quality. Like youâve both stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop and started justâŠbeing.
You pull back and look at him. The late afternoon light catches in his hair, turning it warm. His hands are steady at your waist and heâs looking at you with an expression thatâs become familiarâinterested, attentive, present.
âWhat?â he asks.
âNothing,â you say. âJust looking.â
âYeah?â His thumb traces a slow line just under the hem of your shirt. âWhat do you see?â
You lean down and kiss him instead of answering, and he lets you redirect, his mouth curving slightly against yours like he knows exactly what youâre doing. His hands slide up your back under your shirt, palms flat and warm against your skin, and you feel the shift in his breathing when you roll your hips forward slightly.
âHey,â he says quietly, pulling back just enough to look at you.
âHi.â
âWe should talk about something,â he says.
âWe should?â
âWe should.â But heâs still looking at you like heâs thinking about not talking at all, and his hands are still moving slow up and down your back, and youâre fairly certain this conversation is going to get derailed before it starts.
âOkay,â you say. âTalk.â
He looks at you for a long moment. Something in his expression shiftsâsettles, like heâs made a decision.âI want you,â he says. Simple. Direct. âIâve wanted you. Iâve been taking my time becauseââ He pauses, and one hand comes up to cup your face. âBecause I wanted to do this right. I wanted you to know it wasnât just about getting here.â His thumb brushes your cheekbone. âBut I think you know that now.â
Your heart does something complicated in your chest.
âI know thatâ you say quietly.
âGood.â He kisses you again, softer this time. âSo Iâm sayingâif you want toâwe donât have to stop anymore.â
The thing is, youâd known this was coming. Have felt it building for weeks in the way his hands have lingered longer, the way the kisses have gotten deeper, the way he looks at you sometimes like heâs exercising active restraint. Youâve felt it in yourself too; the wanting has gone from a spark to a constant low heat, banked but present, waiting.
âI want to,â you say.
Something in his expression clears. Warms. âYeah?â
âYeah.â
He kisses you again and this time itâs differentâstill slow, still Chan, but thereâs an intent under it now. A promise. His hands slide back under your shirt, higher this time, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs, and when you shift in his lap you feel that heâs already interested in where this is going.
âHere?â you ask against his mouth.
âHere,â he confirms. âAnd probably other places. Iâve thought about it a lot.â
âHave you.â
âMmhm.â His mouth moves to your jaw. âI have a whole list.â
âA list.â
âIâm thorough,â he says, which is what he always says. Youâd laugh except his teeth graze the spot below your ear that he knows about and has been systematically destroying you with for two months, and instead you make a sound thatâs not quite words and feel him smile against your skin.
âStarting here though,â he says. His hands slide to the hem of your shirt and pause. Waiting for permission even now, which does something to you. You lift your arms and he pulls it off in one smooth motion and then just looks at you for a moment, sitting in his lap in the golden late-afternoon light, and something in his expression makes your breath catch.
âYouâre soââ he starts and doesnât finish. Just shakes his head slightly and leans in and kisses your collarbone, your shoulder, the skin above the necklace that matches his. His hands are warm and certain on your waist, and you thread your fingers through his hair and just feel it; the wanting, the patience finally reaching its conclusion, the months of careful building coming to whatever this is now. His mouth travels lower and his hands move with it, tracing the lines of you like heâs still cataloguing, still learning. When he reaches the center of your chest he pauses and looks up at you with dark eyes.
âOkay?â he asks.
âYes,â you say. âChan, yes.â
He takes his time.
Of course he does. Youâd known he wouldâheâs taken his time with everything, every kiss and touch weighted with intentionâbut itâs different now. Now thereâs no timer, no stopping point, just the long stretch of the evening and his apartment and his hands learning you the way heâs been wanting to.
He maps you there on the couch with his mouth and hands until youâre squirming in his lap and saying his name in a way that makes his grip tighten on your hips. Until you pull at his shirt and he leans back just long enough to let you take it off, and then youâre skin to skin and you can feel his heart racing under your palm and it settles something in you to know youâre not alone in this wanting.
âBedroom,â he says eventually, voice rough. Not a question.
âBedroom,â you confirm.
He stands with you wrapped around him like itâs nothingâlike heâs thought about this too, the logistics of itâand carries you down the hallway to his room. The one youâve slept in a dozen times now but never like this. Never with this intent. He sets you down at the edge of his bed and just looks at you for a moment, standing between your knees, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. The late light is softer in here, filtered through curtains, and his hair is a mess from your hands and there are marks blooming on his neck that you put there on the couch and he looksâŠ
âWhat?â he asks, echoing his question from earlier. âWhat do you see?â
You reach up and trace the chain at his throat down to the marks on his collarbone. The line of his stomach where it disappears into his waistband.
âYou,â you say simply.
His eyes darken and he leans down and kisses you, deep and thorough, until youâre lying back on his bed and heâs following you down, settling his weight against you in a way that makes your breath catch. ThisâŠthis is new. The full length of him against you, warm and solid and here. His mouth finds your neck and stays there while his hands work at the rest of your clothes with patient efficiency, and when youâre finally bare beneath him, he pulls back and justâlooks. Studies you the way heâs been studying everything about you for months, committing it to memory.
âBaby,â you say, and thereâs something in your voice that makes him look up.
âIâm here,â he says quietly. âIâve got you.â
âI know,â you say, and you do. Youâve known it since the first night, really. Since seven minutes in this very bedroom when heâd asked permission before kissing you. Since every door and every goodbye and every time heâd pulled back when he could have pushed forward.
You reach for him and he comes, mouth finding yours again, and his hands are everywhere nowâyour waist, your ribs, the curve of your hipâmapping and cataloguing and learning, and you do the same, finally getting full access to all of him. The muscles of his back under your palms. The way he shivers when you drag your nails lightly down his spine. The particular sound he makes when you roll your hips against him just right.
âWait,â he says, pulling back. âI needâhang on.â He reaches over to his nightstand and you watch him, your chest rising and falling, as he takes care of the practicalities with the same unhurried focus he brings to everything. When he comes back to you his eyes are dark and warm and certain.
âPretty baby,â he says.
âHi,â you say with a soft smile and pull him back down.
He goes slow. Achingly, deliberately slow, watching your face the entire time, one hand cupped against your cheek while the other grips your hip.
âOkay?â he asks, voice strained, holding himself so still you can feel the tension in his shoulders under your hands.
âYes,â you manage. âmove, pleaseââ He does. Finally. And the feeling of it wipes out every coherent thought youâd had. He moves like he kissesâunhurried, thorough, paying attention to every response, every sound, adjusting and learning. His forehead drops to yours and his breath is ragged and youâve never felt so completely present in your body, so entirely here with someone.
âYou feelâŠâ he starts, voice broken at the edges. âGod, fuck, you feelââ
You pull him into a kiss instead of making him finish that sentence, he groans into your mouth and the pace shifts, just slightly, enough that youâre both chasing something now, building toward it together. His hand slides between you and finds where you need him and you arch into it, into him, his name leaving your mouth without your permission.
âThere,â he says quietly, watching your face. âYeah. There.â
Heâs relentless now in that patient way of his; not rushing, not frantic, just absolutely focused on taking you apart piece by piece. His hand between you, his mouth on your neck, on your chest, the slow steady rhythm thatâs pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
âChris,â you say, and it comes out desperate. âIâmââ
âI know, babyâ he says. âI can feel it. LemmeâŠjust let meââ
And when you finally go over itâs with moans of his name, your hands fisted in his hair and your whole body pulling tight and then releasing, waves of it rolling through you while he keeps moving, keeps his hand exactly where you need it, drawing it out until youâre shaking underneath him.
âThatâs it,â he says quietly, and thereâs something wrecked in his voice. âCome for me, love.â
You pull him down into a kiss and roll your hips and he makes a sound thatâs punched out of him, raw and genuine, his control finally fracturing. His rhythm stutters and his hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, when he finishes itâs with his face buried in your neck, your name on his lips and his whole body trembling against you.
The room settles back into itself slowly.
Youâre both breathing hard, hearts racing, skin damp with sweat. Chanâs weight is warm and heavy on top of you and youâre stroking your hands through his hair, down his back, gentling him through the aftershocks the same way heâd done for you. Eventually he stirs, presses a kiss to your shoulder.
âI need toâhang on,â he says, and carefully extracts himself, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before coming back with a warm washcloth. He cleans you up with the same careful attention he brings to everything, his touches gentle, and when heâs satisfied, he tosses the cloth toward the bathroom and collapses back onto the bed beside you.
âCome here,â he says, already reaching for you, and you go willingly, tucking yourself against his side with your head on his chest. His arm comes around you immediately and his other hand finds yours, threading your fingers together.
The light outside has gone deep gold, nearly orange. The city sounds drift in through the window. His heart is still working its way back to normal under your ear.
âThat wasâŠâ you start.
âYeah,â he says.
A long, comfortable quiet.
âI thought about that a lot,â he says eventually. âIn case that wasnât obvious.â
âIt was fairly obvious,â you grin.
His chest shakes with quiet laughter. His hand tightens on yours.
âWas itâŠâ he pauses. âWas it what you wanted?â
You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him. Heâs watching you with an expression thatâs more open than youâve ever seenâvulnerable in a way that makes something in your chest pull tight.
âYes,â you say simply. âIt was exactly what I wanted.â
Something in his expression settles. He pulls you back down and kisses the top of your head.
âGood,â he says quietly. You lie there together as the light shifts from gold to amber to the soft gray of early evening. His hand traces absent patterns on your arm. Your fingers trace the chain at his collar. The comfortable silence stretches, easy and unhurried.
âHey,â you say eventually.
âHmmm?â
âYou said you had a list.â
His hand stills on your arm. Then starts moving again, slower. âI did say that,â he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
âWhat else was on it?â
Heâs quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice has dropped to something lower, warmer.âYou really want to know?â
âI really want to know.â
He shifts, moving to sit up against his headboard pulling you onto his lap. His eyes are dark again and thereâs something in his expression that makes your breath catch.
âI thought about having you in the kitchen,â he says quietly. His hand traces down your neck, over your chest to your stomach and lower. âOn the counter. Against it, bent over it. I thought about it a lot, actually. Every time youâve been in there making coffee in the morning.â
Your breath catches.
âI thought about the shower,â he continues, his hand still moving, slow and deliberate. âHow the water would feel. The sounds youâd make, would they echo...â
âChrisââ
âI thought about my couch.â His eyes follow his hand as it traces back up your ribs. âWhich we started on, but I thought about finishing there too. Thought about what youâd look like in the light from that window.â
His hand slides higher.
âBasically,â he says, leaning down so his mouth is near your ear, âIâve thought about having you in every room of this apartment. Multiple times. Multiple ways.â He pulls back to look at you. âSo, if youâre asking what else is on the listââ
âShow me,â you say.
The smile that crosses his face is slow and warm and edged with something that makes heat pool low in your stomach.
âYeah?â he asks.
âYeah,â you say. âShow me the whole list.â
The kitchen happens before youâve even fully decided to leave the bedroom. Youâd gotten upâboth of youâsome vague idea about food or water or rejoining the living, youâre in one of his shirts and nothing else, heâs in his boxers and you make it as far as the kitchen before heâs turning you around and lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion.
âThis,â he says, stepping between your knees. His hands are on your thighs and his eyes are dark and focused. âThis is what I thought about.â
âWe shouldââ you start, but heâs kissing you and his hands are sliding up under the shirt youâre wearing and whatever you were going to say dissolves entirely.
Heâs less patient this time. Or maybe just more urgent, the careful control he usually maintains loosened by what happened in the bedroom, by having finally gotten what heâs wanted. His mouth is demanding on yours and his hands are everywhere, when he pulls you to the edge of the counter you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer.
âYeah,â he says roughly. âThis. Exactly this.â
He doesnât even take the shirt off you; just pushes it up and out of his way, his mouth following his hands, and when heâs ready, he pulls you onto him in one motion that has you gasping against his shoulder. The angle is different here. Deeper. More intense. Your back arches and he catches you, one arm around your waist and the other braced on the counter beside you, and the leverage lets him move in a way that has you seeing stars.
âBabyâŠnhng, fuckâoh godââ
âIâve got you,â he says roughly. âIâve got you, justâso fuckinâ tightââ He shifts the angle slightly and hits something that makes you cry out and his grip tightens and he does it again, and again, relentless and focused and watching your face the entire time with that same dark attention.
âThere?â he asks, voice strained.
âThere,â you confirm, barely coherent. âDonât stop, donâtââ
âIâm not stopping.â His voice has gone rough and low and determined. âNot until youâŠI want to feel you,â
And when you go over this time itâs harder, sharper, your body clenching around him and your nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down his back with his name torn from your throat. He follows almost immediately, the feeling of you pushing him over, and he buries his face in your neck and holds you through it while you both shake apart together.
The shower happens an hour later. Youâre both sticky and spent and when he suggests it you agree immediately, following him into his bathroom on unsteady legs. He gets the water running and you step in together and for a few minutes itâs actually just a showerâthe water hot and good, washing away the evidence of the evening so far. But then his hands are on you again, soapy and slick, heâs washing you with that same careful attention, and when his hands linger between your legs you lean back against his chest and let him.
âAgain?â you ask, breathless.
âI told you I had a list,â he says against your ear. His fingers are skilled and patient and youâre already sensitive from earlier, so it doesnât take long before youâre shaking against him, his arm around your waist holding you up while his other hand takes you apart.
âI wantââ you start, when youâve caught your breath.
âWhat do you want?â
You turn in his arms and kiss him. âMore. You.â
âYou have me,â he says.
âChris,â you say, and drop to your knees.
His eyes go wide and dark and his hand comes up to brace against the shower wall.
âYou donât have toââ he starts.
âI want to,â you say, looking up at him through the water. âPlease?â
And who is he to deny you? Taking your time the way he always does, paying attention to what you learnt makes his breath catch and his hand tighten in your hair, and when he finally finishes itâs with his head tipped back and your name echoing off the bathroom tiles and his whole body trembling.
The couch happens last, deep into the night when you both shouldâve been exhausted but somehow arenât. Youâd made it back there after the shower, skin still damp, wearing clean clothes that lasted approximately ten minutes before he was pulling them off again. The lamp in the corner is the only light now, warm and low, and youâre in his lap again where this whole thing started hours ago.
âHi,â he says, smiling up at you.
âHi,â you say back.
This time is different from the others. Slower. Not because heâs being careful but because youâre both exhausted and wrung out and this is less about chasing something and more about just being close. Being together. He moves under you with easy, rolling motions and you move with him, hands braced on his shoulders, and itâs intimate in a way that makes your chest tight. His hands are gentle on your hips and his eyes donât leave yours and somewhere in the middle of it you feel something shift.
âChan,â you say quietly.
âIâm here,â he says. âIâm right here, baby.â
âI thinkââ you start and stop but his eyes are steady on yours and you can see your own feelings reflected there and suddenly it doesnât feel scary to say it. âI think Iâm in love with you.â
His hands still on your hips. His eyes search yours.
âYeah?â he asks, voice soft.
âYeah,â you say.
He pulls you down into a kiss that tastes like relief and something deeper, something unnamed but present. When he pulls back his forehead rests against yours.
âIâm in love with you too,â he says quietly. âIâve been in love with you. I thinkâI think since the balcony, maybe. Or the first date. Orââ He pauses. âI donât know when exactly. But I am.â
You kiss him again and this time when you move together itâs different; not desperate or urgent or playful but something else entirely. Something that feels like a promise. His hands are gentle and his mouth is soft and when you finally finish together itâs quiet and mutual and perfect.
Laterâmuch laterâyouâre back in his bed. Actually in it this time, under the covers, your legs tangled with his and your head on his chest. The city has gone quiet outside, and the apartment is dark except for the ambient light coming through the windows. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your back. Your finger traces the chain at his throat.
âSo,â you say eventually. âThat was your list.â
âThat was the list,â he confirms.
âThorough.â
âI told you I was.â You can hear the smile in his voice.
âYou did warn me,â you say.
A comfortable quiet settles over you. His hand continues its slow path up and down your back. Youâre both exhausted nowâtruly, finally exhaustedâbut neither of you seems ready to let go of being awake yet. Of this.
âHey,â he says quietly.
âHmm?â
âI meant it,â he says. âEarlier. I love you.â
You tilt your head up to look at him. Heâs watching you with soft eyes and an expression thatâs completely unguarded.
âI know,â you say. âI meant it too. I love you.â
He kisses your forehead. Pulls you closer. âGood,â he says simply.
And finally, hours after the sun went down on this lazy Saturday, you let yourself drift off in his arms, the necklace cool against your skin, his heartbeat steady under your ear, and the certain knowledge that thisâthis careful thing youâve been building for monthsâis exactly what you both needed it to be.
Summary: At a frat party, youâre kissed by one of the Jung twins; notorious for using their identicalness to throw people off. You however, can tell them apart; itâs Youngwoo, not Wooyoung the brother youâve been secretly hooking up with for three weeks. When both twins discover you want them both and can actually distinguish between themâsomething no one else can doâthey proposition you together. What follows is a night of intensity, vulnerability, and the twins learning to share someone they both have genuine feelings for. By the end of the night, the three of you agree to figure out what it means to date both of them. After all, they share everythingâŠwhy not you?
Warnings: university!au, twin!wooyoung x f.reader, fwb(woo&reader) to lovers,smut! MDNI!, kissing, threesome, poly, teasing, Oreo Woo,pillow talk, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 6.7k
A/N: After a year,this is finally seeing the light. This all started when I found out that Aaron and Shawn Ashmore were not the same person like Iâd thought the entire time I spent watching Smallville and X-men as a kid. For plot sake, sheâs the only one that can tell them apart.
The bass thrummed through your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter, red solo cup warming in your hand. The frat house was packed, bodies moving in the low light and somewhere in this chaos were Jung Wooyoung and Jung Youngwoo, the twins whoâd found joy in confusing everyone on campus. Their latest stunt? Growing their hair out to identical lengths and dyeing it in stark black and blonde sections like an Oreo cookie.
You were five drinks inâthat dangerous sweet spot where everything felt good but your judgment got a little fuzzy around the edgesâwhen a hand slipped into yours.
âDance with me.â
You looked up at Oreo hair, that devastating smile, those sharp eyes that could belong to either twin. Usually you could tell. Wooyoung had a certain softness in his gaze, a way of looking at you like he was always one second away from saying something devastating. Youngwoo was sharper, more direct and challenged you with every look.
But in this light? After these drinks?
You let yourself be pulled onto the makeshift dance floor, bodies pressing close in the crowd. His hands found your waist, confident and warm and you moved together to the heavy beat. He leaned in close, breath hot against your ear and you still werenât sure, until he kissed you. The kiss was eager, almost aggressive. Tongue immediately seeking entrance, hands gripping tighter. You kissed back on instinct, your body responding before your brain caught up but as his tongue swept into your mouth again, insistent and rushed, you knew.
You pulled back just enough to press your lips to his ear, a teasing smile playing on your mouth.
âWhy are you kissing me, Jung Youngwoo?â
He froze, completely still for a heartbeat, two, three. Then his hand wrapped around your wrist and he was pulling you through the crowd, away from the dance floor, down a hallway, into a corner by the bathroom where the music was muffled and you could actually hear each other.
âHowâdââ
âToo much tongue, too early,â you interrupted, leaning back against the wall with a knowing smirk. âWooâs a yearner. He likes slow, nasty kisses that build. You could work on that technique.â
Youngwooâs eyes widened, then narrowed. His jaw tightened in that way that meant he was pissed but also thinking too hard. âYouâve been kissing my brother and neither of you cared to personally inform me?â
The accusation in his voice made you laugh,actually laugh. âDidnât think I had to. Donât you both tell and share everything with each other?â
He stared at you and you could see the exact moment several things clicked into place in his mind. His hand was still around your wrist, thumb pressed against your pulse point.
âHow long?â
âHow long what?â
âHow long have you been hooking up with Wooyoung?â
You tilted your head, considering him. His hair fell across his forehead, black and white strands mixing together. âWhy does it matter?â
âBecauseâŠ.â He stopped, running his free hand through his hair in frustration. âBecause I thoughtâŠwhen you kept looking at meâat usâI thoughtâŠâ
âYou thought I was looking at you,â you finished softly. âMaybe I was or maybe I was looking at him. Maybe I was looking at both of you.â
Youngwooâs breath hitched. His grip on your wrist loosened but he didnât let go. âBoth?â
The music swelled in the other room, someoneâs drunken laugh cutting through the bass. You reached up and tucked a white strand of hair behind his ear.
âYouâre the ones who decided to look identical,â you said. âMaybe you should have considered the consequences.â
âYouâre insane,â he breathed but he was leaning closer.
âProbably,â you agreed. âBut you still havenât let go of me.â
The air between you felt electric, charged with something dangerous and thrilling. Youngwooâs eyes searched yours, that sharp intelligence youâd always been drawn to working overtime behind his gaze.
âDoes he know?â His voice was lower now, rough. âThat you can tell us apart?â
You considered lying, dragging this out, but the alcohol made you honest. âI donât know. We havenât exactly been doing much talking.â
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His thumb traced a slow circle against your pulse point and you knew he could feel how fast your heart was racing.
âAnd what are we doing right now?â he asked. âTalking orâŠ?â
âThatâs up to you.â You kept your voice steady even as his other hand came up to brace against the wall beside your head, caging you in. âYou could go find your brother. Tell him hisâŠwhatever I am⊠just outed our situation in the most awkward way possible.â
âOr?â
âOr you could kiss me again.â You met his gaze directly, refusing to look away. âWith less tongue this time.â
The corner of his mouth twitched,not quite a smile but close. âYouâre trouble.â
âSays the twin who spent half his life pretending to be someone else.â
âWe donât pretendââ
âDonât you?â You tilted your head, studying him in the dim hallway light. âEvery time someone calls you by your brotherâs name and you donât correct them? Every time you let people think youâre interchangeable?â
Something flickered across his face; vulnerability maybe, or recognition. âWeâre not interchangeable.â
âI know,â you said softly. âThatâs why I could tell.â
For a moment, neither of you moved. The bass thrummed through the walls, muffled voices and laughter creating a cocoon of sound around you. Youngwooâs eyes dropped to your mouth and you could see the war playing out behind his expression; want versus loyalty, desire versus whatever complicated twin code he and Wooyoung lived by.
âThis is so fucked up,â he muttered.
âProbably,â you agreed. âAre you going to do something about it or just keep holding my wrist?â
He laughedâsharp and surprisedâand then he was kissing you again. Different this time. Slower, more controlled, like he was trying to prove something. His lips moved against yours with careful precision and when his tongue traced your bottom lip it was a question, not a demand.
You opened for him and the kiss deepened into something that made your knees weak. He kissed like he was mapping you, learning you, comparing notes against something only he knew. One hand stayed braced on the wall but the other slid from your wrist to your hip, fingers pressing firm through the fabric of your jeans.
When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard.
âBetter?â he asked, voice rough.
âMuch.â Your hands had somehow ended up fisted in his shirt. âSee? You can learn.â
He shook his head, but he was almost smiling. âYouâre actually insane. You know thatâs insane, right? Making out with bothââ
âYoungwoo.â
Both of you froze.
The voice came from down the hall and you didnât need to look to know who it belonged to. Your stomach dropped even as something hot and reckless flared in your chest.
Wooyoung stood at the end of the hallway, matching Oreo hair and dark eyes with an expression you couldnât quite read. He looked between you and Youngwoo who still had you caged against the wall, whose hand was still on your hip.
âHey, hyung,â Youngwoo said and his voice was carefully neutral in a way that made your pulse spike.
Wooyoung walked toward you slowly, each step deliberate. When he reached you, he looked at his brother first, then at you and his smile was as sharp as broken glass.
âSo,â he said conversationally. âWere you going to tell me youâve been kissing my twin too,or?â
You opened your mouth but no good answer existed. Youngwooâs hand tensed on your hip but he didnât move away.
âIn my defense,â you tried, âyou both have the same face.â
Wooyoung laughed, bright and dangerous. âOh, this is going to be fun.â
âFor who?â
Wooyoungâs smile widened and there was something predatory in it that made heat pool low in your stomach. âFor all of us, I think.â
He stepped closer and suddenly you were bracketed between them; Youngwoo still against your side, hand on your hip, and Wooyoung directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. The same cologne Youngwoo wore. Of course.
âSee, hereâs what Iâm thinking,â Wooyoung said, reaching up to trace a finger along your jaw. His touch was lighter than his brotherâs, more teasing. âYouâve been playing with both of us. Whether you meant to or not.â
âI wasnâtââ
âShh.â He pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, and your breath caught. âMy turn to talk. Youâve been hooking up with me for whatâŠthree weeks now?â
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
âAnd tonight, you let my brother kiss you. Kissed him back, even.â His eyes were dark, unreadable. âKnowing it wasnât me.â
âI didnât know at firstââ
âBut you figured it out.â Wooyoung glanced at his twin. âHowâd she know?â
Youngwooâs jaw tightened. âApparently I use too much tongue.â
âYou do,â Wooyoung agreed easily, turning back to you. âAlways have. Too eager, not enough finesse.â His thumb dragged across your lip again, slower this time. âIâve been telling him that for years.â
The casual intimacy of itâof them discussing kissing techniques, of Wooyoung not seeming angry so much as intriguedâmade your head spin. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Or maybe it was being pressed between two identical sets of sharp eyes and dangerous smiles.
âSo what happens now?â you managed to ask.
Wooyoung and Youngwoo exchanged a look over your head; one of those twin telepathy moments that everyone always joked about but youâd never quite believed in until now. Something passed between them, silent and electric.
âNow,â Wooyoung said slowly, âwe figure out what you want.â
âWhat I want?â
âYou can tell us apart.â Youngwooâs voice was quiet against your ear, and you shivered. âFew people can tell us apart.â
âOur parents still mix us up to this day,â Wooyoung added. His hand slid from your jaw to your neck, thumb resting against your pulse point, mirroring exactly where Youngwoo had held your wrist minutes ago. âBut you knew after one kiss.â
âSo either youâre more observant than literally everyone in our lives,â Youngwoo continued, âorâŠâ
âOr youâve been paying very close attention,â Wooyoung finished. âTo both of us.â
Your heart was hammering so hard you were sure they could both feel it. The hallway felt smaller, hotter, the muffled bass from the party creating a rhythm that matched your pulse.
âMaybe I have been,â you admitted. âPaying attention.â
âTo?â Wooyoung prompted.
You looked between them; identical faces, identical hair, identical sharp grins that said they already knew the answer and just wanted to hear you say it.
âBoth of you,â you breathed.
Youngwooâs grip on your hip tightened. Wooyoungâs smile turned absolutely wicked.
âSee?â Wooyoung said to his brother. âI told you.â
âTold him what?â
âThat you wanted both of us.â Wooyoung leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. âWeâve been watching you too, you know. The way you look at us. Like you canât decide.â
âOr like you donât want to decide,â Youngwoo added.
Your mouth was dry. âThis is insane.â
âYou said that already,â Youngwoo murmured.
âItâs true.â
âProbably,â Wooyoung agreed. âBut youâre still here between us and youâre not pulling away.â
He was right. You werenât pulling away. If anything, you were leaning into itâinto themâinto whatever dangerous game this was becoming.
âSo Iâll ask again,â Wooyoung said, his voice dropping lower. âWhat do you want?â
âIf I say I want my back blown out, is it going to make our friendship weird?â
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the muffled bass from the party seemed to fade as both twins processed what youâd just said.
Then Youngwoo choked on a laugh, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his whole body shook. âJesus Christ.â
Wooyoungâs eyes went wide before his expression shifted into something between shocked and deeply amused. âOur friendship. Youâre worried about our friendship being weird. Right now, in this situation?â
âIâm drunk,â you defended but you were smiling despite the heat flooding your face. âIâm allowed to be concerned about the social ramifications ofââ
âThe social ramifications,â Youngwoo repeated against your shoulder, still laughing. âOh my god.â
âOf propositioning twins,â Wooyoung finished, shaking his head in disbelief but his hand hadnât moved from your neck and his thumb was tracing absent patterns against your skin that made it hard to think. âAt a frat party. After making out with both of them.â
âWhen you say it like that, it sounds badââ
âIt sounds fucking insane,â Youngwoo said, finally lifting his head. His eyes were bright with laughter but there was something darker underneath; want, raw and undisguised. âWhich is apparently exactly your speed.â
âTo answer your question,â Wooyoung said, his voice dropping back into that dangerous register, âyes. Itâs going to make our friendship weird.â
Your stomach dropped.
âBut we stopped being just friends the first time I kissed you three weeks ago,â he continued, leaning in until his lips brushed your ear. âSo I think weâre past worrying about weird.â
âWay past,â Youngwoo agreed. His hand slid from your hip to your lower back, pulling you slightly away from the wall and closer to him. âThe real question isâŠâ
âAre you serious?â Wooyoung finished. Another one of those twin telepathy moments, finishing each otherâs sentences. âBecause we donât do anything halfway.â
Your breath caught. They were both looking at you now with identical expressions of dark promise and somewhere in your alcoholâfuzzy brain you recognized this as a pivot pointâthe kind of moment where you could laugh it off, play it as a joke, keep things in the realm of plausible deniability.
But you were five drinks in and pressed between two beautiful, dangerous boys who apparently wanted you as much as you wanted them and youâd never been good at playing it safe.
âIâm serious,â you said. âAre you?â
Another one of those loaded glances between them.
âWe should probably go somewhere thatâs not a frat party hallway to have this conversation,â Youngwoo said practically, but his hand was still on your back, fingers pressing into your spine.
âOur place is two blocks away,â Wooyoung offered. His thumb pressed against your pulse point. âSober up a little. Talk aboutâŠlogistics.â
âLogistics,â you repeated.
âBoundaries. Expectations.â His smile was sharp. âWhat exactly you mean by âback blown out.ââ
Heat flooded through you. âI think thatâs pretty self-explanatory.â
âHumor us,â Youngwoo said, his breath hot against your neck. âWe like details.â
Someone stumbled past you in the hallway, drunk and laughing, shattering the bubble of tension. The three of you shifted automatically, creating space, and reality crashed back inâthe party, the people, the fact that you were having this conversation where anyone could overhear.
Wooyoung stepped back first, his hand sliding from your neck but he caught your hand instead, fingers lacing through yours. âCome on. Letâs get out of here.â
âBoth of us,â Youngwoo added, like you might have somehow misunderstood. His hand found your other hand. âTogether.â
You looked between themâidentical faces, identical intent, identical matching grips on your handsâand thought distantly that you should probably think about this more carefully. Should probably consider the consequences, the complications, the absolute insanity of going home with twins who shared everything.
But then Wooyoung tugged you forward and Youngwooâs thumb traced circles on your palm, and thinking seemed highly overrated.
âOkay,â you breathed. âLetâs go.â
âLast chance to back out,â Wooyoung said as you arrived outside their apartment complex.
âNo pressure, we can watch movies or something if you change your mind.â
âYouâll end up watching that movie alone if your brother has anything to do with it,â you laughed, given that most of the proposed movie nights with Wooyoung ever made it past the opening credits.
Wooyoung grinned, shameless. âIn my defense, youâre very distracting.â
âI literally just sit thereââ
âExactly.â He squeezed your hand. âJust sitting there, looking like that. What am I supposed to do, actually pay attention to the plot?â
Youngwoo made a disgusted noise. âOh my god, youâre worse than I thought.â
âYou were literally dry humping her against a wall twenty minutes agoââ
âThatâs differentââ
âHow is that different?â
You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet street. The walk had helped clear your head a little,the cool night air cutting through the alcohol buzz, leaving you floating in that space between tipsy and sober where everything felt possible but you could still think straight. Mostly.
âYou two bicker like this a lot?â you asked.
âConstantly,â they said in unison, then glared at each other.
âItâs endearing,kinda cute.â you offered.
âItâs annoying,â Youngwoo corrected but he was almost smiling. Heâd kept hold of your hand the entire walk, his grip steady and warm. âHeâs annoying.â
âYouâre annoying,â Wooyoung shot back. Then, softer, he looked at you. âBut seriously. No pressure. We can justâŠhang out. Talk. Whatever you want.â
There was something vulnerable in his expression that made your chest ache. For all the sharp smiles and dangerous energy, this mattered to him, to both of them.
You stepped closer, rising on your toes to press a soft kiss to his mouth. Sweet, chaste, nothing like the kisses youâd shared before. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide.
âIâm not going to change my mind,â you said quietly. Then you turned to Youngwoo, giving him the same soft kiss. His breath hitched against your lips. âEither of you want to back out?â
âFuck no,â Youngwoo breathed.
âNot a chance,â Wooyoung agreed.
âThen stop stalling and take me upstairs.â
Wooyoung fumbled with the code to get in the buildingâactually fumbled, which was gratifyingâwhile Youngwoo kept his hand on your lower back, steady and grounding. The apartment building was nicer than you expected, the kind of place that suggested their parents had money they didnât talk about.
The elevator ride up was thick with tension. You had caught your reflection in the mirrored walls, flanked by identical twins with identical hungry eyes, all three of you flushed and breathing too fast. It looked like the start of something either really good or catastrophically messy.
Probably both.
âHouse rules,â Youngwoo said suddenly. âBefore we go in.â
âThere are rules?â
âWeâre making them up right now,â Wooyoung admitted. âBut yes. Rule one: you use your words. Something feels wrong, uncomfortable, anything,you say so immediately.â
âRule two,â Youngwoo continued. âThis doesnât leave the three of us. Weâre not advertising this to the entire campus.â
âRule three,â Wooyoung said, his voice softer. âWeâre doing this together. Not me and you with him watching, or him and you with me watching. All three of us, or nothing.â
The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. None of you moved.
âThose are good rules,â you said finally. âI have one too.â
âYeah?â
âYou also have to use your words. This goes both ways. If either of you gets weird about sharing orââ
âWe share everything,â they said in unison again.
You shook your head, laughing helplessly. âThatâs still crazy, you know that?â
âSo you keep saying,â Wooyoung said, tugging you out of the elevator. âAnd yet here you are.â
Their apartment was surprisingly cleanâminimalist furniture, gaming setup in the living room, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. Wooyoung locked the door behind you with a soft click that sounded impossibly loud.
For a moment, the three of you just stood there, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you like a physical thing.
Then Youngwoo said, âDo you want water? You should probablyââ
âIâm fine,â you interrupted. âIâm sober enough, I promise.â
âYou sure?â Wooyoung asked. âBecause we can waitââ
You crossed to him, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss that was anything but soft. He made a surprised noise that melted into a groan as you licked into his mouth, reminding him exactly how you liked to be kissed; slow, deep, building.
When you pulled back, his eyes were glazed. âOkay, yeah. Youâre sure.â
âVery sure.â You turned to Youngwoo, crooking a finger. âCome here.â
He came, obedient in a way that made heat pool low in your belly and you kissed him too; different than Wooyoung, teaching him the rhythm, the pace, until he got it right and kissed back with devastating precision.
âBetter,â you murmured against his lips.
âGood student,â Wooyoung said, his voice rough. He was watching you kiss his brother with dark, hungry eyes.
You pulled back, looking between them. âSo. Someone want to take me to the bedroom?â
âMy bedâs bigger,â Youngwoo said with a grin.
âOf course it is,â Wooyoung muttered. âYou had to get the king size,â
âAnd now youâre grateful,â Youngwoo shot back, already tugging you down the hallway. âYouâre welcome.â
Their apartment had two bedrooms on opposite ends of a hallway, and Youngwooâs was exactly what youâd expect; neat but lived-in, textbooks stacked on a desk, laptop open with what looked like code on the screen. The bed was indeed massive, covered in dark gray sheets that looked expensive.
Wooyoung followed you in and immediately went to the nightstand, pulling outâŠ
âAre you seriously checking the condom supply right now?â you asked, laughing.
âIâm being responsible,â he defended, but his ears were red. âWe have plenty. And lube. Youngwooâs weirdly well-stocked for someone whoââ
âDonât finish that sentence,â Youngwoo warned.
You sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at both of them. They stood there, identical and nervous in a way that was oddly endearing, like theyâd just now realized this was actually happening.
âCome here,â you said softly.
They moved in tandem, Wooyoung sitting on your left and Youngwoo on your right, close enough that your thighs pressed together. The bed dipped under the weight of all three of you.
âSo,â Youngwoo started.
âHow do weâŠâ Wooyoung trailed off.
You couldnât help it, you laughed. âYou two have never actually done this before, have you?â
âShared someone?â Youngwoo shook his head. âNo. Weâve talked about it butââ
âYouâve talked about it?â That caught your attention.
âHypothetically,â Wooyoung said quickly. âWeâre twins. We share everything. Itâs come up in conversationââ
âMany conversations,â Youngwoo admitted. âBut weâve never actuallyâŠâ
âFound someone you both wanted?â you guessed.
They exchanged another one of those loaded glances.
âFound someone who wanted both of us,â Wooyoung corrected quietly. âOur personalities are similar and it can be a lot sometimes and yeah, weâve never really liked the same person before or had someone who could tell us apart.â
The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tight. You reached for his hand, then Youngwooâs, lacing your fingers through both of theirs.
âI want both of you,â you said clearly. âAnd I can definitely tell you apart.â
âProve it,â Youngwoo challenged, but his voice was soft. âRight now. Eyes closed.â
You closed your eyes, feeling the bed shift as they moved. Then lips on yours, a kiss that started gentle and built into something deeper, tongue sliding against yours with careful precision, one hand cupping your jaw with just the right pressure.
âYoungwoo,â you murmured against his mouth. âGood job on the improvement.â
He laughed, breathless and then pulled back. A moment later, different lips; these ones teasing at first, nipping at your bottom lip before licking into your mouth slow and dirty, making you chase the sensation. A hand sliding into your hair, gripping just hard enough to make you gasp.
âWooyoung,â you said when he finally let you breathe.
âFuck,â someone whispered but you werenât sure which one. You opened your eyes to find them both staring at you with identical expressions of want and wonder.
âConvinced?â you asked.
âVery,â Wooyoung breathed. Then, to his brother, âOkay, this is happening.â
âThis is happening,â Youngwoo agreed.
They moved at the same time, Wooyoungâs hands finding your waist while Youngwooâs fingers tilted your chin up for another kiss. It should have been awkwardâthree people trying to navigate the same spaceâbut somehow it wasnât. Wooyoung kissed your neck while Youngwoo kissed your mouth and when they switched it felt natural, easy, like theyâd choreographed it.
Maybe they had. They did share everything, after all.
âShirt off,â Wooyoung murmured against your collarbone and you lifted your arms obligingly. The cool air hit your skin, followed immediately by warm hands, four hands, mapping your body with synchronized curiosity.
âYouâre both still dressed,â you pointed out breathlessly.
âProblem?â Youngwoo asked but he was already pulling his shirt over his head. Wooyoung followed suit and you were faced with two identical expanses of lean muscle and smooth skin.
âNo problem,â you managed. âDefinitely no problem.â
âGood,â Wooyoung said, pressing you back against the pillows. He hovered over you, Youngwoo settling beside you and the weight of both their gazes made you shiver. âBecause weâre just getting started.â
Wooyoungâs mouth found yours again, different nowâmore possessive, more intent. His lips moved against yours with the confidence of someone whoâd kissed you dozens of times before, who knew exactly how to make you melt. You felt Youngwooâs hand slide up your side, fingers tracing the curve of your ribs, and you arched into the touch.
âIâve been thinking about this,â Wooyoung admitted against your lips, his voice rough with honesty. âEvery time I kissed you. Wondering if youâd want him too. If youâd let usââ
âI want you both,â you interrupted, because it was true and they needed to hear it. âIâve wanted you both for longer than I should probably admit.â
Youngwoo made a sound low in his throat and then his mouth was on your neck, finding that spot just below your ear that made you gasp. âHow long?â
âSinceâahââ Your words stuttered as Wooyoungâs thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. âSince you both showed up to class with that stupid hair, maybe beforeâŠâ
They laughed in unison, the sound vibrating against your skin.
âThe Oreo?â Wooyoung grinned against your collarbone. âThatâs what did it?â
âMade it impossible to pretend I wasnât staring,â you admitted. Youngwooâs teeth grazed your pulse point and you shuddered. âMade it impossible to pretend I didnât wantâthisââ
âThis,â Youngwoo repeated, his hand sliding lower, fingers finding the button of your jeans. âWhat exactly is this?â
You looked at him, then at Wooyoung, both of them watching you with identical dark eyes. âBoth of you. At the same time. Exactly what I asked for.â
âGreedy,â Wooyoung teased, but his breathing was uneven. His fingers worked at the clasp of your bra while Youngwoo slowlyâtorturously slowlyâworked your jeans down your hips.
âOnce again, youâre the ones who decided to look identical,â you shot back. âThis is your fault.â
âOur fault,â Youngwoo agreed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your hip bone. âWe take full responsibility.â
The bra came off and suddenly you were exposed to both of them, their identical gazes raking over you with undisguised want. For a moment they just looked, and the attention made you squirm.
âDonât hide,â Wooyoung said softly, catching your hand before you could cover yourself. âWeâve been dying to see you like this.â
âBoth of us,â Youngwoo added. His hands were on your thighs now, spreading them gently. âDo you know how many times Iâve jerked off thinking about you? Knowing my brother was doing the same thing?â
Heat flooded through you at the confession. âThatâsââ
âHot,â Wooyoung finished. âItâs hot. Knowing we both want you this badly.â He lowered his mouth to your breast, tongue circling your nipple before sucking gently. The sensation made you arch, a moan escaping before you could stop it.
Youngwoo took the opportunity to slide your underwear down and off, leaving you completely bare between them. âFuck,â he breathed, his hands on your inner thighs. âYouâre already so wet.â
âBeen thinking about this all night,â you admitted, the words coming easier now, inhibitions dissolving under their attention. âSince the first kiss. Since I figured out it was you.â
âYeah?â Youngwooâs fingers traced up your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him but not quite touching. âTell us what you were thinking.â
âIââ The words died as Wooyoung bit down gently on your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through you. âI was thinking about how different youâd feel. How youâd bothâoh godââ
Youngwooâs fingers had finally reached where you needed them, sliding through your wetness with a groan. âSo fucking wet,â he muttered, more to himself than to you. âAll this for us?â
âYes,â you gasped as one finger pushed inside, then another. âBoth of you. Always bothââ
Wooyoung kissed you then, swallowing your moan as his brother worked you open with careful, deliberate strokes. His tongue moved against yours in that slow, building rhythm youâd taught him to love and the dual sensations had you trembling.
âSheâs close already,â Youngwoo observed and you could hear the satisfaction in his voice. âCan feel it. Sheâs squeezing my fingers so tight.â
âDonât stop,â you begged against Wooyoungâs mouth. âPlease donâtââ
âWe wonât,â Wooyoung promised. His hand slid down to join his brotherâs, and suddenly there were four hands on youâtouching, teasing, learning every response. âWant to feel you come. Want to know what thatâs like.â
âWant to know if you say our names,â Youngwoo added, his thumb finding your clit with devastating precision. âWhich one youâll say first.â
The combination of their touches, their words, the overwhelming reality of having both of them focused entirely on your pleasureâit was too much. You came with a broken sound, their names tumbling from your lips in a jumbled mess of syllables, unable to distinguish where one ended and the other began.
âBeautiful,â Wooyoung breathed, watching you come apart. âFuck, youâre so beautiful.â
âOur turn,â Youngwoo said and there was a possessive edge to his voice that made heat curl low in your belly despite having just come. âGet the rest of your clothes off, hyung.â
They moved apart, stripping efficiently and you took the moment to catch your breath and watch them. Identical bodies, identically hard, identically desperate. When they came back to the bed, you reached for them both, needing to touch, to ground yourself in the reality of this.
âHow do you want us?â Wooyoung asked and the question was genuine, they were leaving this up to you.
You looked between them, considering. âYoungwoo first,â you decided. âSince you interrupted us earlier. Wooyoung, I want you hereââ You gestured to your mouth and his eyes went dark.
âYeah?â His voice was strained. âYou want both of us at once?â
âI said I wanted you to blow my back out,â you reminded him. âI meant it.â
They moved into positionâYoungwoo reaching for a condom with shaking hands, Wooyoung settling near your head with a reverence that made your chest tight. This mattered to them. You mattered to them.
âReady?â Youngwoo asked, positioned between your thighs, the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance.
âSo ready,â you confirmed, reaching for Wooyoung with one hand while the other gripped the sheets.
Youngwoo pushed in slowly and the stretch was perfect, overwhelming, exactly what you needed. You moaned around Wooyoung, taking him into your mouth at the same rhythm and the synchronization of it made all three of you groan.
âFuck,â Youngwoo gasped, bottoming out and staying still for a moment. âYou feelâthis isââ
âI know,â Wooyoung panted, his hand gentle in your hair. âI know exactly how good she feels.â
Then Youngwoo started moving and thinking became impossible. He set a rhythm that had you rocking into him, taking Wooyoung deeper with each thrust. Theââââââââââââââââsounds you were makingâbroken, desperateâvibrated around Wooyoung, and his hips stuttered, fighting for control.
âEasy,â he breathed, but his fingers tightened in your hair. âGod, your mouthâIâm not gonna last if youââ
Youngwooâs hands gripped your hips, angling you just right, and suddenly he was hitting something deep inside that made your vision blur. You moaned around Wooyoung and he cursed, the sound ragged and broken.
âThere,â Youngwoo groaned, watching your reaction. âThatâs the spot. You should see your face right nowâfuck, youâre so perfectââ
The praise washed over you, mixed with the overwhelming fullness, the weight of Wooyoung in your mouth, the way they both touched you like you were something precious and devastating all at once. Your free hand found Youngwooâs arm, nails digging in, trying to anchor yourself.
âClose,â you managed to gasp when you pulled off Wooyoung for a breath. âIâm so closeââ
âLet me see,â Wooyoung said, shifting to lean over you, his hand replacing yours on his cock as he stroked himself. âWant to watch you come on his cock. Want to see what we do to you.â
His words, combined with Youngwooâs increasingly desperate thrusts, pushed you right to the edge. When Youngwooâs thumb found your clit again, circling with perfect pressure, you shattered, clenching around him so hard he shouted your name.
âFuck, fuck, fuckââ Youngwooâs rhythm faltered, became erratic. âCanâtâyouâre too tight, Iâm gonnaââ
âCome for me,â you urged, voice wrecked. âWant to feel it.â
He did, his whole body going rigid as he spilled into the condom, your name on his lips mixed with a string of curses. The sight of him losing control, the feel of him pulsing inside you, sent another aftershock through your body.
Wooyoung watched it all with blown pupils and a hand working frantically over himself. When Youngwoo finally pulled out, breathing hard, Wooyoung immediately took his place.
âMy turn,â he said, and there was something possessive in his voice, something that said heâd been waiting for this, fantasizing about this. âBeen dying to feel you again. But this timeââ He glanced at his brother. âThis time he gets to watch what I do to you.â
Youngwoo settled beside you, still catching his breath, but his hand found yours. The intimacy of itâbeing held by one while being taken by the otherâmade your heart clench.
Wooyoung pushed inside in one smooth thrust, and the feeling was different; familiar but new, because this time Youngwoo was here, watching, his fingers laced through yours.
âGod, youâre still so tight,â Wooyoung groaned, starting to move immediately. His rhythm was different than his brotherâs; less controlled, more desperate, like heâd been holding back for weeks and finally didnât have to. âEvery time Iâve had you, Iâve thought about this. Wondered if youâd ever want him too. If youâd let us share you.â
âYes,â you gasped, meeting his thrusts. âAlways yes, I wantedâboth of youââ
Youngwooâs free hand slid over your body, touching wherever he could reach, and the dual sensationâbeing filled by one while being caressed by the otherâwas almost too much.
âYouâre perfect,â Youngwoo murmured against your ear. âTaking him so well. You look so good like this.â
âTell her,â Wooyoung panted, his pace increasing. âTell her what you told me. About watching us.â
Youngwooâs breath hitched. âI used to imagine it,â he admitted, his voice low and rough with arousal despite having just come. âHearing you two through the wall. Knowing what he was doing to you. Wishing I could see.â
The confession sent heat flooding through you. âYou heard us?â
âEvery time,â he confirmed. âAnd Iâd touch myself, imagining what you looked like, how you sounded. This is so much better than I imagined.â
Wooyoungâs hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit and you cried out at the added stimulation. âThatâs it,â he encouraged. âWant to feel you come on my cock too. Want you to know exactly how good we both make you feel.â
âWonât be able to walk tomorrow,â you gasped, sensation building impossibly higher.
âGood,â they said in unison and the synchronization of it, the shared possessiveness, pushed you over the edge again.
This orgasm was different; deeper, more intense, lasting longer as Wooyoung fucked you through it, chasing his own release. When he finally came, he collapsed forward, catching himself on his forearms, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.
âHoly shit,â he breathed eventually. âThat wasââ
âYeah,â you agreed, boneless and satisfied and completely wrecked.
They helped you to the bathroom, both of them, and the care they tookâthe gentle hands and soft touchesâmade something warm bloom in your chest that had nothing to do with sex. When you were cleaned up and back in bed between them, the reality of what youâd done started to settle in.
âSo,â Youngwoo said eventually, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. âThis is definitely happening again, right?â
You laughed, exhausted and euphoric. âYou two are insatiable.â
âFor you?â Wooyoung pressed a kiss to your shoulder. âYeah. We are.â
âBut seriously,â Youngwoo continued, his voice softer now. âWe should probably talk about what this means. For all of us.â
You turned to look at him, then at Wooyoung. âWhat do you want it to mean?â
They exchanged another one of those loaded glances.
âWe want you,â Wooyoung said simply. âBoth of us. Together. Not just for sex, though that wasââ
âIncredible,â Youngwoo supplied.
âRight. But we wantâŠmore. If you do.â
Your heart stuttered. âMore as inâŠ?â
âAs in dating you,â Youngwoo clarified. âBoth of us. However that works.â
âWe know itâs unconventional,â Wooyoung added quickly. âAnd we can figure out the details, but weâve been talking about itâbefore tonight evenâand we both have feelings for you. Real ones.â
The vulnerability in their voices made your chest tight. You reached for both their hands, squeezing gently.
âI have feelings for both of you too,â you admitted. âHave for a while. I just didnât think this was possible.â
âIt is if you want it to be,â Youngwoo said.
âWeâre good at sharing,â Wooyoung added with a grin. âHad a lot of practice.â
âThough I draw the line at sharing clothes,â Youngwoo said. âHe stretches out my hoodies.â
âYou literally canât tell them apartââ
âI can tellââ
You kissed them both into silence, laughing against their mouths. âYes,â you said when you pulled back. âI want this. Whatever this is. With both of you.â
Their smiles were identical, brilliant, devastating.
âGood,â Wooyoung said, pulling you closer. âBecause weâre not letting you go.â
âEither of us,â Youngwoo agreed, his arm draping over both of you.
You settled between them, warm and safe and completely satisfied, thinking that maybe the Oreo incident was the best thing that had ever happened to you.
âThough we are definitely talking about logistics tomorrow,â you mumbled, already half-asleep. âLike who gets which nights andââ
âWe both get every night,â they said in unison.
âThatâs not howââ
âIt is now,â Wooyoung said firmly.
âYou wanted both of us,â Youngwoo reminded you. âYou got us. Package deal.â
You were too tired to argue, and honestly, you didnât want to. Falling asleep between Jung Wooyoung and Jung Youngwoo, their identical breathing evening out as they drifted off on either side of you, felt impossibly right.
Tomorrow youâd figure out how to explain this to your friends. Tomorrow youâd establish actual boundaries and schedules and all the complicated things that came with dating twins.But tonight? Tonight you just let yourself have this; them, together, exactly what youâd wanted even when you hadnât let yourself admit it.
âHey,â Wooyoung mumbled, already half-asleep. âFor the record? You were right about the kissing thing.â
âIâm always right about the kissing thing,â you murmured back.
âCocky,â Youngwoo said, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
âYou love it.â
âYeah,â they said together, and it sounded like a promise. âWe really do.â
âBy the way, I could tell you both apart before either of you kissed me.â
âWhat?!?â They say simultaneously.
âItâs your eyes,â you mumble sleepily. âYou both have one double and one monolid, Wooyoungâs mono is on the left, yours is on the right,â you continue softly as you trace under Youngwooâs monolid. âwhen Woo stands on your left side, I see Youngwoo. When you stand on his left thatâs Wooyoung, if that makes sense. Youâre both equal halves of each other on your own but standing next to each other youâre whole.â
Both of them look at you slightly awed because you saw them in a way they didnât even see themselves. You donât hear their response as you fall asleep smiling, wrapped in identical arms, thinking that life had a funny way of giving you exactly what you needed; even when it came in matching sets with matching Oreo hair and matching devastating smiles.
