jo's archive

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try. You did everything humanly possible to turn your grades around. Studying to all hours of the night. Going to the tutors on campus for help — all of which ran for the hills when they saw you coming. Even asking your bestie, Doyoung, for help. Knowing full well what a pickle you were in he volunteered as well. However, when he saw how truly helpless you were he forfeited and told you to change career paths.

Currently in your second year at Neo University, you were acing every class except one. One single class in which you were warned about. No one passed with flying colors, even Doyoung struggled. Doyoung, the Valedictorian when the two of you were in High School — excelling in his classes with flying colors in Elemntary and Middle school, but when it came to this class — barely passing with a D+. This class was a different beast all together. Some girls in your dormitory actually cried when their final grades came in. Only sending shivers down your spine for the following semester where you too would find yourself in tears time and time again. 

Sadly, all of your feeble attempts only resounded in a giant letter in blood red ink, F. Again! This has been your fifth F of the semester. Thankfully completing all of the homework assignments, even the extra problems was keeping your head above water. But still, an F was not what you wanted to see. Not only that, your teacher decided to emphasize the triumph with a thick red circle. And to top it off, scribbled underneath, ‘stay after class,’ written in beautiful cursive handwriting. This was it. The talk. You were dreading this moment. Every year, every teacher from primary school to secondary has given you the talk. 

‘What is wrong?’ ‘What aren’t you understanding?’ ‘If you were struggling this much you should have asked for help!’ ‘Have you tried a private tutor?’ Groaning you let your head fall flat onto your desk. Mr. Jeong wasn’t going to be any different. He was going to say the same things you’ve heard all your life. 

At this point you were sure that Math was just a big douche who loved to shit on you time and time again. Your personal kryptonite in the world. All of the functions, equations, a million fucking ways to do one single problem because some sick twisted asshole came around and said ‘hey, I’ve discovered a new method,’ only adding to everyone’s frustrations! Yeah, Math hated you and you hated it. Case closed.

When the bell rang and everyone scattered out of the classroom all to eager to leave, you stayed back, as instructed. Raising his arm and slicking back his dark brown hair — a habit Mr. Jeong had that made all the girls swoon, yourself included, he made his approach. Eyes dead set on you. Lips in a hard line, he pulled out the chair in front and turned it to face your desk before sitting down. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’ve asked you to stay back,” he starts a long tired sigh leaving him.

“I swear I’m trying!” You rush to get everything out before he even has a chance to ask you the same questions every other teacher has asked you. “I went down to the tutoring classroom. They all have decided I’m a lost cause. I even asked my friend who took your class last semester! He only looked at me like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid by the way,” you hiss surprising Mr. Jeong. A tiny smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve struggled with Math my whole life. No matter how hard I try to study I just can’t seem to grasp any of the concepts. At this point I’m pretty sure it’s my arch nemesis!”

“Why didn’t you seek my help from the very beginning?” He asks calmly.

“I don’t want to look like an idiot right off the bat! I hate being peoples’ ‘little project.’” You roll your eyes at the label you’ve been placed with since childhood.

Turning his head away Mr. Jeong covers his growing smile with the back of his hand disguising it as a cough. “Well, I for one don’t think you’re stupid.” 

“Really?!” 

If this were some kind of anime you know you’d be looking at him with shaky watery eyes, grateful that someone finally sees you — not as an idiot but as someone who has the capability to accomplish their hearts desires! But since is reality you settle for a stunned expression, your mouth hanging open.

“I just think you need some guidance. May I see your test?” Nodding you grab the paper from your folder sliding it to him. “Right here, you used the right equation, but made the tiniest error here,” he points with a blue pen circling the area of your mistake. Thank heavens it wasn’t a red pen. By the end of college you’ll never want to see the color red again.

Looking up at Mr. Jeong stunned you shake your head in disbelief. “S-So I just goofed?”

“Well, yes and no. Do you go over your work and double, triple check your answers?”

“I never know if I’m right or wrong and I get freaked out and second guess myself. So I just think it is what it is and hand in my paper. I promise I’ll triple, no! Quadruple check my work next time!”

“Checking your work is only half the problem. You still aren’t understanding all the equations.” He points to a few problems on the second page. “The equations are all wrong. You mixed the second page equation setup with the third page. So, ultimately, all of the answers are wrong.”

Groaning you slam your head on your desk. Mr. Jeong moving his hands away just in time before you made another blunder and crushed his fingers. “Maybe I am stupid. I’m sorry, Mr. Jeong.” 

“You’re not stupid. Please don’t call yourself that and please don’t slam your head down that hard. You’ll hurt yourself. Now, sadly, I myself am booked up solid with tutoring some of my other students. But, I do have a friend who I know can help you.”

“Really?!” You practically spring up from your seat.

“Y-Yes,” he moves away from you eyeing you suspiciously. “His name is Johnny Suh. He teaches Mathematics at a high school not far from here. If you don’t mind I can give him a call and see if he’s available to help you.”

“Yes! Please, Mr. Jeong! My mom is going to kill me if my grades don’t start taking a turn for the better.”

And with that you stand outside of Mr. Suh’s house, or mansion. Your head tilts to the side wondering how in the hell a high school teacher is able to live in a home that can be used in itself as a small school for children. Checking down at the address Mr. Jeong gave you, you check to make sure you were in the right spot. 7716 Zennie Drive. 

Shrugging you ring the doorbell and place a gentle knock on the door. After your talk with Mr. Jeong, the following day when you had his class he pulled you to the side as you walked in. Stating he talked to Mr. Suh, and he was more than willing to be your tutor. 

Apparently the two went way back to their early high school days as best friends. You were told you’d be taken care of but the only time Mr. Suh’s schedule was free was Wednesday, Friday and Saturday from 4PM to 7PM. Thankfully, you scheduled all your classes in the morning hours — your last class ending at 12PM, giving you ample time to eat and rest up before heading over to whom you hope is your saving grace. 

But the door has remained closed. No movement. No sounds coming from inside. Checking your phone you made sure that today was in fact, Wednesday. Yep. And it was 4:14PM. Having trouble locating the home at first put you behind schedule. Yet, you’re still standing outside the massive door and no one appears to be home. 

“Mr. Suh!” You knock on the door. 

Stepping back you wait. Shuffling back and forth you try to focus on any signs of life coming from behind the door when a blood curdling scream comes from the other side of the house.

Jumping at the sound your hand goes to your heart. “What the —” Looking around hoping you weren’t the only one who heard the scream you find yourself alone. Great…

Reaching into your pocket you grab your keys which hold not only a whistle, but a fresh new canister of pepper spray. Gripping the spray tightly in your hand you slowly make your way around the side of the house. 

“M-Mr. Suh…” you whisper. No answer. Sticking yourself to the wall of the home you make your way around the first corner only to see something you didn’t expect.

“No!” Another high-pitched scream pierces your ears.

“I’m going to get you!” An older gentleman chases after a small girl in a tutu around a massive backyard.

“No! The evil troll king!” The little girl wails. 

“Get back here with my gold!”

Blinking a few times you hope your mind is making up the scene in front of you. This is Mr. Suh?! The man in front of you appears to be around the same age as Mr. Jeong, but he is much more…he lets out such a light hearted laugh that you step back from him, handsome!!!

“Lord help me…” you whisper to yourself.

Mr. Jeong was already the hottest teacher on campus. Granted, not exactly your type. He held some kind of mystery behind his eyes that unsettled you the numerous times you made eye contact with him. Perhaps it was a look of pity he had knowing you were bombing his class, but there was something darker and mysterious. Something that made your stomach twist and turn. 

Many girls would gawk and stare when he’d walk across campus after his classes ended before his break. Admittedly so have you. Every time he walked it seemed as if there was a red carpet or some type of runway he was strutting down. The man was a living breathing luxury brand model! Definitely up there with the Versace or Prada models. 

Mr. Suh, gulping the saliva that was threatening to pour from your parted lips — he was a different type of handsome, and absolutely your type. Short jet black hair sticks to his forehead the longer he plays with the little girl. A loose fitted white button down shirt, with three buttons undone revealing a glimpse of his chest. A broad ches, and just the thought of what he looks like shirtless has your heart beating faster. You were entering dangerous waters with your gawking but you continued. Loose fitted trousers that didn’t give way to the shape of his legs but with the overall size of Mr. Suh, he absolutely has muscular legs. He just screamed toned.

“U-Uh,” you try to find your voice holding up your hand. “E-Excuse me,” you manage to squeak out.

Freezing, the little girl and who you assume is Mr. Suh turn in your direction. 

“Daddy!” The little girl cries out before running behind him. Her tiny hands clenching onto his pants — eyes peeking around him to look at you, before hiding once more.

Daddy? You stare wide-eyed. He’s a father, already?!

“I’m sorry,” you start to back away. “I don’t mean to intrude. I heard a scream and —”

“It’s fine,” a chuckle comes from the man. “You’re the student Jaehyun sent over, right?”

“Jaehyun?” Your head tilts. “M-Mr. Jeong?” 

Nodding, Mr. Suh walks forward, his daughter still clinging to him for dear life. “Sorry, yes. Mr. Jeong,” Johnny towers over you. “I’m Johnny Suh, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reaches out his hand.

Saying your name quickly, you enclose your hand around his only to gasp at the size difference. “N-Nice to meet you too…” you say in awe.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long. I lost track of time. This is my daughter, Lily.” He gestures to the girl glaring at you from behind him.

Bending down to her level you try to give her your sweetest smile. “Hi, Lily. It’s nice to meet you.”

“No!” She shouts at you and runs away from you and into the house.

“U-Uhhh…” a sliver of sweat rolls down the side of your face. 

“Lily!” Mr. Suh shouts. “I’m sorry, for her behavior. I think she’s a little shy.” He brushes his hair out of his face. “Please, come inside. So, Jaehyun told me you’re having trouble in his class,” he starts off the conversation.

“Y-Yes,” you quickly follow behind him. “No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to understand a single thing he’s teaching. I’ve tried asking for help on campus but no one seems to want to deal with me. It’s sad to say that you too may fall prey to my idiocy and drop me as well.”

Chuckling Mr. Suh slides open the glass door leading straight into the kitchen. “I’m sure we can figure out what the problem is.”

“I hope so. My mom’s going to kill me if my grades don’t improve soon.”

Taking off your shoes at the door you’re led to a small table in front of a window. “Please, have a seat and I’ll be right back. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

“A glass of water would be lovely.”

Heading over to his cupboard he grabs down a glass, goes to the fridge and pours you some water. Thinking he would do what your father always does when you ask for a glass of water and get it from the tap — this was definitely an act of kindness. 

“I’m just going to go check on Lily, then I’ll be right back.”

“I can leave and come back some other time if this is an inconvenience for you. I don’t want to take your time away from your daughter.”

“Nonsense. She’s just a little crabby today,” he rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you get your book out and start on your assignment and I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod and scramble to take out your book and binder.

When Mr. Suh was out of earshot you exhale a long deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. This is terrible. Absolutely terrible! Taking out your phone you shoot a quick message to your best friend Jennifer.

I’m in deep shit!  My tutor is soooo hot! Like fucking hot!  And he’s sooo tall! What do I do Jen?!!!!

Hiding your phone under your leg you wait for her reply. Having seen the time, she should be getting out of soccer practice soon and heading for the lockers. Twiddling your pencil in your hand you try to focus on the problem staring back at you.

This was going to be grueling. How is it that for the last year and a half you haven’t stepped foot in front of a man you thought was handsome — but when you need help because you’re a dumbass, the Universe places a walking Greek God before you? 

Then again, you scoff. “He’s married, you idiot.” You whisper. “And he’s a dad! Focus!!”

Finding a smidge of peace from your rampant thoughts you get to work. The homework seemed easy when Mr. Jeong was explaining it. All you had to do was follow the equation that you just learned. Simple enough.

Or so you thought... An eon went by and you were still staring at the first problem. Pencil snagged between your teeth, bite marks up and down the piece of wood. A personal habit you picked up specifically from Mr. Jeong’s class.

“You use this, to solve this.” You start talking to yourself quietly. “Then why is it so damn hard to solve this problem?!” 

“Stuck already?” A voice whispers next to your ear.

Jumping back, your phone crashing to the floor and you stare wide-eyed at Mr. Suh. With a small cat-like grin he takes a seat next to you, picking up your phone in the process.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. You were just hyper focused and I couldn’t resist.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you reach for your phone only for it to slip out of your hands. “Shit,” you curse.

“About the language,” Mr. Suh clears his throat.

“Oh no!” You pop your head up from under the table. “Yes. No. I’m sorry. I know you have a child. I’m just nervous I guess. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

Nodding he leans back in his chair. “Why are you nervous? Is Jaehyun stressing you out with all the work?”

“No!” You shout. “I mean,” you try to speak calmly. “I’m just nervous that you’ll find out I’m unteachable.”

“No one is unteachable. I’m sure Jaehyun will tell you the same thing. He’s given me a heads up on what you’re having trouble with, but if you don’t mind me asking, may I see your tests?”

Horror befalls you. He can’t be serious. He doesn’t actually want to see that travesty. Surely Mr. Jeong told him how much of a dumbass you were. He has to know that you are in desperate need of help.

“My-My tests?” 

“Yes. I want to see exactly where you’re struggling. This tutoring is going to be in regards to your Final. For the next two and a half months I’m going to try my best to bring your grade up so you can pass and put this class and Jaehyun behind you. In order to do that, I need to see everything that you’re struggling with.”

“Fine…” Opening your binder you fish out all of your tests and quizzes. Every proof of your failure. “I’ll understand if you want to quit while you’re ahead.” You squint your eyes tightly as you slide the papers over to him.

“Oh stop it can’t be —” he pauses mid-sentence his mouth falling open. “Oh, wow…” he mumbles.

“Yep. Told you. I’m stupid. Still want to take on this walking nightmare?”

“I mean he told me you were really struggling but I didn’t think this badly.” He glances up at you for a second to see the pout on your lips and in your eyes. “I’m not going to run away. I’m just shocked he waited until you were this deep in the hole to do something.” 

“Maybe he thought I would magically get better.”

“He said his schedule is booked solid with tutoring other students?” 

“Yep.”

“He’s so blind,” Mr. Suh shakes his head. “Okay, how about today I help you with your homework for Monday, and by tomorrow I’ll have a study plan and a guide all made up for you!” 

“Eh?! You still want to help me? Are you sure? I won’t be upset if you say no. Even my best friend abandoned me.”

Laughing he waves a dismissive hand. “Believe it or not, Jaehyun wasn’t the Math genius he is today. Even when he was back in college he struggled a little. We all need help every now and then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Suh! I won’t let you down!”

Just like he promised, he helped you with your homework. Shockingly only looking at you incredulously a few times when he needed to dumb everything down for you to the point his daughter would be able to understand. Feeling a little better after your first tutoring session, you head back to your dorm with your head held high. Maybe this was going to be your second wind. A power up to keep you in the game.

You were sure of one thing. You would not let Mr. Suh down. 

When you got to your dorm room your best friend, Jennifer was waiting impatiently outside the door. Her fingers being gnawed by her teeth. “Where the hell have you been? I was worried about you. I tried calling and texting back.”

“Eh?” You grab your phone. “My phone was on the whole —” you press the home button but it doesn’t turn on. “This can’t be. I charged it before I left. I had a full battery.”

Pressing the small button on the side you find your phone had been turned off completely. A cold shiver rakes over you. Did Mr. Suh turn off your phone when he picked it up? Your Lock Screen appearing, a text from your friend the only thing displayed.

A hot tutor?! How hot is he? A scale of 0-10? Take a picture I want to see!

Gulping you show her your phone. “I-I think Mr. Suh turned off my phone. Jen! What do I do? What if he saw your message?! How can I show my face around him again? He probably thinks I’m disgusting! He’s a married man with a child! What do I do?!” You stomp around like a child as you open your door.

“Don’t freak out. Maybe he just turned it off. He could have a no phone policy.”

“You think?”

Nodding she ushers you to your bed where she plops down beside you. “So, tell me everything! Seriously! How hot is he?”

Giving his daughter one last kiss, Johnny wishes her a goodnight and sweet dreams. Today was a day like no other. Little did he know when he decided to take on this job of being a tutor would he find out that his student needed a savior imstead. Sighing he reaches into his pocket for his phone. 

Jaehyun had a lot of explaining to do. Why he didn’t tell him you were so far behind in your studies? When he said one of his students needs help and he’s booked solid he assumed it was just a normal case of an over achieving student. Seeing your grades brought on a whole other problem. You would need to get at least a B+ on your final to even have a passing grade. Why would he let you get so far behind, and how does Jaehyun expect you to get your grades up in such a short period of time?

It just didn’t make sense. Jaehyun has always been active in the Math Lab, as well as private tutoring jobs on the weekends. During his breaks he helps any student who can’t meet up with him after his usual working hours. Something had to be up. There is no way he would let you slip through the cracks like this.

Holding the phone to his ear, Johnny steps away from his daughters room.

“Hey!” Jaehyun says on the other end. “How did it go?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Johnny hisses quietly. “Why did you let her get to this point? When I saw her grades I thought I was seeing things! Seriously, Jaehyun…what the hell is going on?”

“I didn’t intend for this to happen.” Jaehyun snaps defensively. “I’ve been booked solid since the semester started. She was doing poor in the beginning but so were a lot of other students. This course is one of the hardest courses to teach and learn. I figured if she was really having trouble she would ask me for help or go to the Math Lab.”

“She’s in deep trouble, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Which is why I sent her to you. Plus,” Jaehyun pauses alarming Johnny. “I wouldn’t have been a good tutor for her anyway.”

“Why not? You’re her teacher! You know all the answers! How would you not be a good tutor?” Johnny heads for his study.

Mumbling into the phone Jaehyun confesses. “A conflict of interest.”

Stopping dead in his tracks Johnny stares out into the empty hallway. Jaehyun had to be kidding. He couldn’t have possibly — “For fuck’s sake, man…”

“I know. I didn’t intend for this to happen. I don’t even know when it happened. But it did. That’s why I sent her to you. You are the only person who can help her. I talked to those in the Math Lab and they can barely help the students who understand the basic concepts of what I’m teaching. She was never going to get help from them. I would help her but I can’t.” 

“No shit!” Johnny rubs his forehead feeling a migraine slowly creeping up. “I’ll handle things here. She seems to need a lot of one-on-one guidance. What you’re teaching her isn’t hard but at the same time it is. Exactly what major is she in?”

“Well, this class is for those who are education majors. Primarily those who want to teach either Elementary or Middle School. Sorry for all this. I really wish I could help.”

“Yeah, I know. I may need to push some things around,” Johnny opens the door to his study. Off to the side a liquor cabinet rests with his favorite brands of wine, brandy and vodka. Putting his phone on speaker he pours himself a glass of vodka. The tension already leaving his body. “If I’m to help her get a B, she’ll need help everyday.” He chugs down the hard liquor wincing as it burns the back of his throat.

“What about Lily?”

Laughing, Johnny plops down into his chair. Your face when Lily ran away from you resurfacing. “Lily got scared of her and ran away. She asked me who she was and then asked if she would be around a lot more,” he smiles gently. “She had such a sour face it was hilarious.”

“So, Lily’s staying strong?” Jaehyun asks gently. 

Swirling the small amount of liquid left in his glass Johnny exhales. “As good as can be expected. She still doesn’t understand what’s going on. Hell, neither do I.”

“Have you heard from —”

Johnny quickly stops him. “No! And I don’t want to talk about her,” he glares at the snug silver ring wrapped around his finger. A daily reminder of the love of his life’s betrayal. “I’m done with her.” He touches the ring, fiddling with it. “I’ve given up. It’s been two years. I need to focus on Lily.” He slides the ring up his finger but pushes it back down. 

“I really am sorry man. I thought she was the one.”

“Me too…”

Looking at the problems you do exactly what Mr. Suh told you to do. Breathe. Take your time. Go through each step slowly. There is no need to rush when it comes to homework. It’s all about understanding the basic fundamentals and building confidence. Solve the problem and get an answer. Check so that you don’t miss anything and especially check to see if you made a mistake and got the answer wrong. Everything seemed to be going great. For once your confidence seemed like it was soaring. Then again…

“Only three right?!” You slam your pencil down onto your small desk in your room. This was useless. For the past two hours you worked hard to try to figure out the problems. Doing exactly as instructed only to end up with three out of seven answers right!

The worst part is that you don’t understand where you got the problems wrong. Which part did you have a hiccup and why you didn’t see it and how you can avoid it for next time. You did everything right. Triple checked to see if you missed a step or did something wrong and yet, the same thing happens. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Closing your book for the night you trudge to your bed plopping down. Tomorrow you’ll ask Mr. Suh where you made a mistake and hopefully he can help you.

Mr. Suh, you try to hold back the smile creeping on your face. After having talked with Jennifer you were for sure going to love and dread spending time with him. Love, getting help and finally seeing your grades turn around for the better — at least that’s what you’re hoping, but also for the eye candy factor. His whole presence just made you feel weak in the knees. The dreadful part, actually having to learn all this bullshit your University was calling Math and the fact that Mr. Suh is a married man. 

“His wife,” you whisper. “Why wasn’t she home too?”

Shrugging, you tear your thoughts away from her unknown whereabouts. Whoever she is she’s most likely beautiful. To find a man as handsome as Mr. Suh, and have a cute daughter like Lily, she’s bound to be a gorgeous woman. Someone who works to help others just like Mr. Suh being a teacher and willing to help you. A power couple and their precious angel.

Rolling over onto your back aggressively, you kick your legs like a child. If only you could find your one true love too. To have what Mr. Suh has. Actually, first, you need to get through Mr. Jeong’s class, then find yourself a job, and then you can worry about finding a man. Just as your eyes start to close your phone dings startling you. An unknown number and a message sits on your Lock Screen, making you spring up.

Next time the cellphone gets turned off when the lesson begins. No distractions while you’re under my tutelage. You can swing by tomorrow around 1PM. We’ll have more time to work. Sleep well. You’ll need it. J.Suh

And boy was he serious when he said you would need sleep. Actually, for the past three weeks he’s been working you like a dog. Having put together and entire binder of what to expect on the Final. What you didn’t understand from all of your quizzes, tests, and the Midterm. A Bible of information completely personalized to suit your needs. Every day you went over to Mr. Suh’s house to get help. When you showed up on Saturday after your first study session, he stated he thinks you should come by every day. Monday through Friday your lessons were from 3PM- 7PM. On Saturday’s, secretly the worst day out of the week, you spent six grueling hours being tutored. Sunday your only saving grace.

Honestly, how a man who teaches all day can have the energy to help your dumbass self is beyond you. But, there was a silver lining. At the end of each day, Mr. Suh would create a tiny three question pop quiz talking about the main concepts he helped you with. And after the first week — a complete travesty, you actually started to grow in confidence. The problems were making sense and with this last pop quiz, you got all the answers right! 

His method of madness was actually working. He taught you something! After that small victory you were positive you could end up learning what Mr. Jeong was teaching and you would find a way to turn your grades around. On the topic of grades, that is one thing Mr. Suh never talked to you about. On three separate occasions you asked him what grade you needed to get on your final in order to pass. He would brush the question off by saying,

‘The final is a long ways from now. Let’s focus on your upcoming test.’ 

However, today is the day you’re getting back your first test since you started getting tutored by Mr. Suh. When you were taking it, you heart started to beat quickly. The numbers and questions becoming blurred and spiraling out of control but thinking about everything you’ve learned you took a deep breath and focused. The whole class was empty by the time you finished. Mr. Jeong waiting patiently as you took up until the bell to complete it. 

Now, you’ll see whether or not your efforts were in vain — that is as soon as Mr. Jeong shuts up and hands you back your damn test! 

“Okay, you can start packing up,” Mr. Jeong places the whiteboard marker down onto his desk. “I’ll be handing back your tests from last week. Please if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask me.”

Your leg starts to shake. Your pencil rammed into your mouth. This is it. He makes his way across the first row. One by one you see your classmates expressions. Some surprised, some angry, some…well, you know that look all to well. Defeated. As you stare at each of your classmates your nerves start to take over you. Your whole body tingling with anticipation. Mr. Suh would be in the middle of teaching his second class by now and told you to send him a message about how you did around lunchtime. 

Mr. Jeong stops in front of you. His eyes unreadable. Lips in a hard line. He grabs the corner of your paper flipping it over onto the back before moving onto the next student. Saying a quick prayer you turn the paper over. 

Your whole body becomes numb. A cold sweat spreading over your skin like wildfire. This can’t be happening. Flipping through the pages of your test you go over everything with a fine tooth comb. But it was happening. In very bold and almost threatening letters, ‘stay after,’ was bleeding through the first page onto the second. 

The bell rings and everyone leaves except for you. Again. Not even bothering to pack up your belongings until after Mr. Jeong had a word with you, you wait until the last student leaves his classroom. He wishes them well and closes the door. Gulping you sit up straight. 

“I think we should talk about your test,” Mr. Jeong starts.

“Y-Yes, sir…”

He saunters up to you, once again seeming like the ground is his runway — pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down. Combing his fingers through his hair he shows you something you never expected to see. A huge smile with his dimples on display. 

“Congrats!” He leans back into the chair. “You did a wonderful job!”

“Wonderful?!” You scoff. “I got a C- practically a D! How is that wonderful?!” You point to the paper. “After all this work I thought I would for sure get an A this time.”

Laughing, Mr. Jeong turns his face to hide his rather beautiful smile. Something else you would have never expected to see from him. 

“Trust me. You did a wonderful job. You can’t expect in such a short time to see massive results. You should feel proud of yourself.” He rests his hands on your desk. “Seriously, this is making me feel that you won’t have to take this course again next semester.”

“That would be a gift from God himself,” you mumble only to realize what you said. “Ah! S-Sorry Mr. Jeong, it’s just —”

“I understand. When I had to learn how to teach this course I wanted to run away myself. It’s not easy and I know it’s hard to learn. I’m just glad you’re doing better.”

“Well, it’s thanks to you and Mr. Suh. I owe everything to the two of you.”

“Speaking of Mr. Suh, how is everything?”

“Great!” You beam at him. “Mr. Suh went through all of my old tests and quizzes and pointed out where I made mistakes. How to solve the problems and how to find my errors,” you bring out the binder he created for you. “He’s gone above and beyond anything I’ve ever experienced and I’m so grateful for that.” 

Mr. Jeong takes a look at the binder his eyes widening. You were right. This was going above and beyond the call of duty. Scanning over the little quizzes he’s even given you, Mr. Jeong’s happy demeanor starts to fade. He was happy you were doing better, but at the same time he knows full well he would have never thought of doing this for you or any of his students. 

“Impressive,” he clears his throat. “I’ll have to treat Johnny to a beer or two for his help.” He hands you back the binder. “So, everything is okay? He’s treating you nicely?”

“Oh, yes! He’s very nice! I’m truly grateful for all the help he’s given me.”

Nodding, Mr. Jeong leans forward. “I’m happy for you. I do want to apologize for not trying to do something to help you sooner.”

“No. It’s totally fine. It was my fault. I should have asked for help, or asked questions in class — something so that my grades didn’t fall to this point. Oh! Mr. Jeong, I’ve been wondering, exactly what grade do I need to get on my final in order to pass your class? Mr. Suh keeps avoiding the question which is making me a little nervous.”

“Oh, uh,” Mr. Jeong turns from you his eyes trembling. “I think if Mr. Suh wants you to focus on your studies that’s what you need to worry about. The final is still some time away.”

Pouting you glare at him. “It’s going to be impossible for me to pass this class isn’t it?”

“No, it’s just going to take a lot of work,” he rubs the back of his neck. “If you want, we can get a better look at your grades and what you need to do in order to pass this class.”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, I’m free for this break period. Unless you have a class.”

“Nope. My next class doesn’t start until 11.” 

“Great, follow me then.”

Quickly you pack up your belongings into your backpack and follow Jaehyun through the hallway where people were coming and going to their classes. As you make your way through the halls you notice that people are staring your way with strange gazes. They weren’t shocked, or angry, more like perplexed with a dash of spite. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. 

Jeong Jaehyun, Mr. Jeong, the campus hottie. The Professor every girl and woman wishes to have but only those in the Education department ever get. Joy and rapture. Walking beside him you glance up to see his side profile. He is very handsome. Eyes laser focused on the path he’s walking. Shoulders straight, broad, with a natural sway that shows nothing but confidence. Even his strides excude confidence. Upon further inspection he dresses nicely as well. 

On most occasions he wears a button down white shirt, black slacks, with black shoes and a gold watch. Very simple yet on him, luxurious. The only person you think that can compete with such a simple style is Mr. Suh. Laughing to yourself you see how they became friends. They have a similar aura about them but Mr. Suh is a lot easier to be around. Then again, it’s probably because he’s not your Professor and you’re not terrified of failing his class.

“Exactly how long are you going to stare at me?” Mr. Jeong asks you a playful tone in his voice. 

“E-Eh?! Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” 

Keeping your eyes down at your feet you walk a few steps behind him ashamed of your ogling. It wasn’t like you to stare at someone so shamelessly. Then to be caught red handed, the embarrassment sweeping over you is all consuming. 

“I don’t mind the staring,” Mr. Jeong continues. “I get stared at all the time.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I really didn’t mean to stare.”

“Please, class is over. You can call me Jaehyun.”

Stopping dead in your tracks you stare at your Professor. There is no way in hell you can call him, Jaehyun. You are his student and he the teacher. It would be improper. 

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle nervously.

“When you’re with Johnny, what do you call him?”

“Mr. Suh.”

“All the time?”

Nodding you smile. “He is my tutor after all. He’s there to help me. Not to be my friend. Plus, he’s already taking a good chunk of his time to help me instead of spending it with his wife and daughter.”

“His wife?” Mr. Jeong walks up to you. “What do you mean his wife?” He grabs you by your shoulders.

“U-Uh, well I haven’t seen her at all, but he has a wedding band.”

Sighing in relief Mr. Jeong releases your shoulders. “Oh, okay. Sorry about that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Has Johnny talked to you about his wife?”

“No, she never comes up in conversation. Actually, nothing personal has come up at all. It’s strictly school work and studying.”

Nodding Mr. Jeong starts walking again, heading down the stairs. The light atmosphere surrounding the two of you long gone the moment you mentioned Mr. Suh’s wife. Was she a sensitive topic? For the last three weeks you’ve wondered why each night you never saw her. By the time your tutoring sessions ended it was 7PM, she would have at least come home by then. 

A thought strikes across your mind. What if she’s sick? What if she can’t get out of bed and that’s the reason you’ve never seen her. Slowly your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. Mr. Suh’s wife lying in bed ill. Not able to play with her precious daughter, or spend time with her husband in their beautiful home — at least what you’ve seen of it. Smiling brightly you plan out something just for her. A gift that will hopefully brighten her day. 

Holding open the door to the side of the building, Mr. Jeong allows you to walk outside first. “Mr. Jeong,” you keep up with his pace. “What type of woman is Mr. Suh’s wife?”

“She, uh,” he starts fumbling over his words. A strange sight for the suave Professor everyone adores. “Wh-Why do you want to know?”

“I want to get her something. I can only assume that since I’ve never seen her she must be sick, right? I can’t imagine what Mr. Suh must be going through. Juggling work, his daughter, his wife, and now me. He truly is a saint.”

“No. You’ve got it all wrong,” he grabs your wrist stopping you. “Johnny, his wife, she’s not sick.”

Your heart that was wading in the dark depths of your stomach instantly bounces back to its proper place. “Well that’s wonderful news! I still want to thank her for sharing her husband. I know all this tutoring must be an inconvenience for her. I was thinking of getting her chocolates and flowers. Does that sound like a good idea?”

Shaking his head Mr. Jeong runs a stressful hand through his hair. “No. It doesn’t. She won’t get them.”

“Why won’t she?”

“She left. She’s gone. Don’t ever bring her up in front of Johnny or Lily.”

Gasping you cover your mouth with your hands. “Sh-She died?!”

Sighing, Mr. Jeong grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours he leads you straight to the student center. The stares that you receive inside the Mathematics building has now tripled. Mr. Jeong’s eyes glaring ahead making everyone part way as if he were Moses and they the Red Sea. Looking down at your hands intertwined with his, your heart skips a beat. This was inappropriate, especially on campus. If someone saw you and asked you what the hell was with the hand holding how would you explain it?

Trying to tug your hand away from his he holds onto you tighter. Glancing back at you for a second, brows furrowed and his lips in the tightest line they all but disappeared. He was in no mood for you to try to escape. Letting go of the possibility of walking next to him you get tugged along like an insolent child. 

Straight into the Student Center you’re taken into the elevator where he keeps a firm hold of your hand. Only when the elevator reaches the third floor does he let go — his peers and other campus staff becoming visible. Greeting everyone whom he sees cheerfully he takes you back to his office. Opening the door he tells you to have a seat at the available chair in front of his desk. Quickly sitting you hold your backpack against your chest terrified of what he’s going to say to you. He takes a seat exhaling deeply, eyes and face looking exhausted. 

“You don’t have to look so scared.” He slides into his desk facing you.

“You looked like you were going to yell at me any second while you dragged me across campus.”

“I’m sorry about that. I just needed to get you to a quiet secluded place before I continued our conversation.”

“Why did it need to be quiet and secluded?”

“The whole campus doesn’t need to know about my best friend’s problems. Plus, you know people around here. Whether they have the whole story or not what they hear they talk about. Now, what I’m going to tell you needs to stay between the two of us. I will know if you tell anyone because no one and I repeat no one knows Johnny, and no one knows what is going on in his life. So if I hear his name or his daughter’s name and what is going on I will fail you!”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” You tilt your head. “Also, I’m pretty sure you can’t fail me without a legitimate reason.” Mr. Jeong stares at you blankly. He really wasn’t in the mood for lighthearted jokes. “I’m sorry. I understand.”

“Johnny and Lily were left behind by his wife and her mother. One night while he was in his study she packed a bag and left without telling him where she would was going and for how long. It was right after Lily’s third birthday. She’s now five. They haven’t heard a word from her for over two years. He’s sensitive when it comes to her. 

“If you think he’s married it means he still has his wedding band on. For the last year he’s told me he’s done with her. He’s done waiting and that he doesn’t want to see or hear from her ever again, but if you saw that he still has his ring on — that means he’s still holding onto the hope that she’ll come back. Lily doesn’t remember her mom that much, but she does ask about her. If she asks you don’t tell her anything. Johnny’s told her that she is sick and in a special hospital.”

“Why doesn’t he tell her the truth?”

“She’s five. She wouldn’t understand.”

“Still, when she gets older and the ‘mom is sick and in the hospital’ story stops working what will he do then? Tell his daughter that her father is a liar. So not only did her mother ditch her but now her father is a liar.”

He shakes his head sighing. “You’re young, you don’t understand.”

“Mr. Jeong, I may be young, but I’m not stupid. My father has kept me a secret from his entire family. Apparently their super religious who at the time that he ran away were two seconds from joining a cult. He told me right away when I was old enough to understand why I couldn’t see his family. I’ve only grown up with my mom’s side. 

“For years they had to repeat the story until it sunk in, but they were honest. If I had questions they let me ask them no matter how many times they had to answer the same questions. Lily is young now, but she is five years old. What will Mr. Suh do when she realizes that her father can’t keep telling her that mommy is in the hospital and him not taking her to see her once. She’s going to realize that.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your family,” Mr. Jeong looks at you bewildered. “I understand your point, but she’s his daughter.”

Mr. Jeong was right. Neither he or you or anyone else had the right to tell Mr. Suh how to raise his own child. He knows what’s best for her. If he thinks she’s still too young to understand it is in her best interest to keep things a secret. Plus, his wife may one day come back into her life. It probably is better for her to be left in the dark for now.

“Do you believe she’ll ever come back?”

“I hope she doesn’t. He’s my best friend. I watched a man who was living out his dream life with the woman he loves come crashing down to earth without a parachute. All because of her selfishness. So, no. I don’t want her back. She’ll only hurt him and leave him again when things get tough.”

“Being a wife and mother was too much for her?”

“No one knows. She never talked to anyone at all about what she was going through. Not even Johnny.” 

“Do you think Lily would like some flowers and chocolates then?” A smile comes to your face. “I have been borrowing her dad for the past three weeks. I feel terrible for taking up so much of his time.”

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Jeong smiles sweetly. Dimples on full view, eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite pinpoint. “I think she would love that.”

“Okay. I’ll be sure to head out and get some goodies for her before I go over to his house today. Now, about my grades…”

When lunch came around you sent a photo of your grade with a text saying that Mr. Jeong was very proud of you. Putting your phone up to charge you head off to take a small nap before you go out and look for some flowers and chocolates for Lily, and even something for Mr. Suh to show your appreciation.

Now knowing why you haven’t seen his wife you can’t help but wonder why she left in the first place. Their home is beautiful, Lily from the small glances you’ve seen of her before she scurries away — apparently still cautious of you, is a lovely child and she’s cute as a button! Mr. Suh is, well, delectable, so why did she leave?

Trying not to dwell too much on Mrs. Suh’s absence, you head off to dreamland hoping to get some rest before another grueling day of studying. But, instead of getting a decent rest, your brain apparently concocted a very intense and wet dream. Starring none other than Mr. Suh.

It started out like a normal tutoring session. You were trying your best to solve a problem, but kept messing up. Mr. Suh in his usual lounge wear, a loose fitted shirt — exposing just enough of his chest to have you drooling, leans over to you giving you a chance to be wrapped in the heavenly aroma of his cologne. As he helps you to solve the problem you can feel his breath tickling your neck. His lips feel so close that you swear he presses them against your skin, but he never laid a hand on you. 

Once he was finished explaining he waited patiently until you finished. Eyes watching you carefully, roaming up and down your face when you meet his gaze. His irises seemed darker, pupils dilated, and mouth ajar as he bit his pen gently between his beautiful white teeth. 

Feeling shy you get back to your work when a hand on your thigh makes you look up, only to meet Mr. Suh’s lips. A whimper escapes you. His large strong hands cupping your face keeping you close to him. Lips smacking against each other’s, you melted into the kiss and his touch. One hand traveling down your body until it reaches your waist. Gripping you tightly he pulls you over to him. Half your body dangling over his lap. 

“Sit on my lap.” He tells you between kisses. “I want to feel you on top of me.”

As you clammer to your feet going to straddle him your alarm blared loudly before you had a chance to finish the dream. Sitting up in your bed, body sticky with sweat, you opt to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes. A nice cold shower should get your mind out of the gutter. 

Once fully dried and and no longer thinking of fucking your tutor, you change into a pair of distressed blue denim jeans and a loose gray hoodie before grabbing your phone, keys, purse, and backpack to head out and get Lily and Mr. Suh something special. On your way out your door you hear a ding from your phone. 

Great job! 

I’m so proud of you and I hope you’re proud of yourself too! I’m thinking something special should be done to commemorate this momentous occasion.  We’ll need to think of something together. See you later. J. Suh

You can’t help the bright smile spreading across your face as you merrily skip down the hallway to the staircase. Feeling like you just won the lottery you truly feel proud of yourself. Both Mr. Suh and Mr. Jeong, praising you for your efforts. There was no doubt in your mind. You have to find something nice to thank Mr. Suh for everything that he’s done.

Thanks to Mr. Jeong you knew which kind of chocolates to get Lily and what kind of flowers were her favorite. The Best Uncle of the Year, his words exactly, coming in handy with loads of information. It didn’t take long to shop around for Lily, but what the Best Friend of the Year, another term he boldly stated, didn’t do was help you with Mr. Suh. Stating clearly, ‘he’ll be appreciative of anything you get him.’ 

So, you decided to get him some flowers too, a small assortment, and some chocolates of his very own. Fancier chocolates that your parents love to nibble on every now and then. Men like chocolate too, you assert in your mind. 

Driving over to Mr. Suh’s you can’t help but feel antsy. Feeling nervous about interacting with Lily makes your stomach churn painfully. She’s made sure to keep her distance from you. Eyeing you skeptically whenever she does grace you with her presence. Time and time again, Mr. Suh tries to get her to say hi to you properly but to no avail.

This doesn’t help solidify your dream job of being an Elementary teacher. Especially when an Elementary school aged child wants nothing to do with you. 

Pulling up to Mr. Suh’s house you see his car in the driveway. Your heart starts beating faster as you gather everything — putting your purse safely in the trunk since you won’t be needing it inside his house. Trying your best to hold the two small bouquets, you duck walk up to the front door. Before you can even ring the bell, Mr. Suh opens it with a bright smile on his face.

“Welcom—” he stops staring at you. “What in the world…”

“Uh, I uh,” you fiddangle the bouquets holding the one out for him. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. Without your help I would never have gotten that C and I would probably be swimming in a sea of failure rethinking my life choices and career right now. So, I uh, just got these to say thank you. Ummm.. th-thank you!” 

Blinking, he bounces from your face then to the flowers. Not making any attempt at reaching for them. Just like on the first day, a single strand of sweat trickles down the side of your face. This was a terrible idea. A card would have sufficed. A thank you for tolerating my dumbass for the past three weeks card and maybe a gift card to a restaurant. But no, you didn’t think of that. 

Lowering the bouquet you turn in the direction of the trash can that was sitting out by the curb for tomorrow. “Th-This was stupid, huh?” Your face starts burning up. “I-I’ll just dispose of these.” 

Turning around you head down the two steps to the pathway leading down to the driveway. Halfway down the path you're whipped around and wrapped in a tight hug. The flowers becoming squished in the process. Looking up at the person engulfing you in a constrictor hug you find Mr. Suh. Becoming stiff as a statue you glance around wondering if this is your mind playing tricks on you or if it is indeed real. After that dream you had this surely couldn’t be real. 

“Don’t throw them out,” he whispers, holding you even tighter. 

“O-Okay,” you murmur, body starting to relax. “S-So you like them?”

Chuckling he pulls away from you enough to look down into your eyes. “I love them. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Managing to shove them higher you put on a bright smile. “Well, then these are for you Mr. Suh! I also bought you some chocolates. My mom and dad like these. I always get it for them for their anni —” you stop yourself. “Sp-Special occasions. Or when I want something from them.” You turn your almost blunder into a joke. “I also have some flowers and chocolates for Lily. Mr. Jeong told me what her favorites are.”

Again you’re wrapped into a tight embrace. Mr. Suh’s body hunching over until his face is buried in your neck. “Thank you,” he pulls you close to him. “Thank you.”

Proud of yourself for the second time today you wrap your arms around your tutor. How long has it been since someone other than family or Mr. Jeong showed him kindness? How long has it been since they thought to do something for him and his daughter? Hearing a sniff your ears perk up. 

“Mr. Suh?”

Stepping away from you he quickly wipes his eyes. “Ahh, that’s embarrassing,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. It’s just been a while.”

“Daddy?” A small voice comes from the door. “Daddy!”

“What is it sweetheart?” He quickly leaves your side rushing over to Lily. 

Taking in a huge breath holding it in as you make your approach to the Princess of the mansion. You get down on your haunches and show her the bouquet of flowers.

“Hi Lily, we haven’t really met each other yet.” She goes behind Mr. Suh looking around his legs at you. Introducing yourself, you reach out the flowers towards her. “A little birdie told me that your favorite flowers are Tiger Lilies. Is this true?”

The moment she looks down at the flowers her little eyes light up. Slowly letting go of Mr. Suh’s legs, she comes in front of you. Looking up at her dad he laughs happily.

“They’re for you, sweetheart,” he pats her head.

Reaching out she takes the bouquet smelling each flower her tiny nose can reach. “I love these,” she wraps her arms around the flowers.

“I also heard you like Snickers,” you pull out some candy for her. 

Again her eyes light up. “I love them too!!” She squeals while taking the chocolate. “Daddy look!”

“I see. Now what do we say when we receive a gift?”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Go on inside and we’ll put these flowers in some water,” he shoos Lily inside. 

“Okay!”

Running off she leaves the two of you alone. Standing back up, you can’t help but smile lovingly at the little girl. She really is cute. 

“Thank you for this,” Mr. Suh calls you to attention. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. It really means a lot to me.”

“Well, I just figured I should surprise her and give her something because I am borrowing her dad. I know you’d rather spend your time with your daughter and relaxing after work, but because of me you can’t do that for a while.” 

“It’s not all bad,” he walks into his home and you follow. “Having you around these last three weeks has been fun.”

“Liar.” 

Mr. Suh lets out a hardy laugh while you both head into the kitchen. Sitting your bag down at the table like usual you watch him and his daughter put the flowers you gave them in some water. Then, Mr. Suh giving Lily some of her candy you brought her. But what shocked you is when she came running up to you with her arms open wide.

“I love my presents! Thank you!” She hugs you. Stunned you barely have time to hug her back before she lets you go running off to play. 

“Wow…” you look back at Mr. Suh. “I thought she hated me.”

“No way! She’s been curious about you. She asks me questions most nights before she goes to sleep.”

“She does?” Shocked, you stare in the direction she left in.

“Yes,” Mr. Suh sits down with a cup of coffee and he ever so politely brings you one as well. “She’s very cautious. We don’t have many visitors. Most of the family is a good distance away from us.” He takes a sip, his body relaxing. “The only time we see them is during the holiday’s. Shame really. She has cousins around her age but she barely gets to spend time with them.”

“Have you ever thought of moving?”

What the hell are you saying?! You curse yourself. 

“I have but this is the only home she knows. Plus,” he fiddles with his wedding band. “I’m still holding out for something.”

Staring down at his ringed finger fire burns inside of you. How can a woman be so selfish to leave the man she loved hanging by a thread? If she wanted to leave, okay. But you just don’t up and leave and never come back and don’t officially break things off! That is cowardly and selfish! 

“Anytime Lily wants to hang out, I’m available,” you try to bring the subject back to something lighter. “I think as long as I give her candy I’ll be on her good side, right?” 

“Bribery, already?” He looks stunned. “You’re not even a teacher yet and you’re resorting to such tactics.”

Stunned, you stare at him with wide eyes. “A-A teacher? How did you know?”

“Jaehyun. The course he’s teaching is for Education majors, is it not?”

“Right,” you scratch the back of your neck. “Forgot about that. Oh! Mr. Jeong said he may owe you one or two beers for helping me. Make sure he keeps that promise!”

Pulling out your holy binder of math, you get things ready for today's lesson.

“Actually,” Mr. Suh places his hand on top of yours. “Why don’t we skip today’s lesson? We should celebrate your accomplishment.”

“Accomplishment? I got a C-, that means ‘C better luck next time.’”

Laughing, Mr. Suh shakes his head. “Well I see it as ‘C, she can be taught.’ So, listen to your tutor. We’re taking a break today.”

“A break...” You nod sitting back in the chair. “O-Oh! A break! I’m sorry! You probably have something planned for Lily!” Quickly you start packing your backpack. “I’m sorry, I should have read between the lines. I’ll hurry up so you two can spend the evening together.”

“Stop!” Mr. Suh’s voice booms in your ears, startling you. “Like I said earlier, we need to celebrate your accomplishment.” Standing up, he starts to walk away. “Come, follow me.” 

Gulping, your palms turning sweaty you ring them on your jeans before standing up. Mr. Suh leads you back into the living room and this time you have a chance to really look around. Everything was immaculate. White carpet with white furniture. A black stoned fireplace. A large flat screen tv sitting above it. A few plants in the corners of the room and a couple on the coffee table and end tables. Something you would see out of a magazine. Not really a homey touch. Something that seems to fit his style more so than a style that suits a home with a little girl. 

Leaving the living room you’re taken down a corridor to a room where he opens the door with a key. Placing the key back into his pocket your heart starts to beat faster. What in the world could he be hiding? A room that needs to be locked! Thinking back on the movie Fifty Shades of Grey you slowly start to back away. Afraid that Mr. Suh has some weird fetish that he’s about to unleash on you — however, you’re taken aback when the room turns out to be a normal study. 

Slumping forward your heart slows down. Thank goodness…

“It’ll just be a small glass,” he holds the door open for you. “I thought we could celebrate with some wine. You’re old enough to drink, right?”

Glaring you turn to his direction. “I’ve been able to drink for a while now, Mr. Suh. Do I really look that young?”

Chuckling he goes into a cabinet taking out two wine glasses. “You do actually. You still have that ‘the world is my oyster’ glow about you. Go on, pick one.”

“I don’t know wines. I know beer but not wine.”

Snorting he shakes his head. “College days,” he grabs a bottle of red wine pouring you a smaller glass than himself. “You’ll learn when you’re older.”

“You’re not that much older, Mr. Suh. And yet you speak like you’re well into your forties.”

Sitting down on the couch in his study he lets out a huge tired sigh. “Some days it feels like I’m pushing fifty.”

Joining him at the opposite end making sure you don’t intrude on his space you take a small sip. The taste making you cringe slightly but it was smoothe going down. The last wine you had was like drinking tanbark — woody with a dryness of a desert. This held a tinge of sweetness.

“What’s it like to be a dad?” 

“Pardon?” He looks at you surprised. 

“Sorry for the sudden question,” you giggle realizing it was really an out of the blue question. “I just mean, Lily is awfully cute. I don’t have any friends who are already parents. I know personally I want three kids one day. A boy, a girl, and then to adopt or foster a child. That’s been my goal since I was a kid. Perhaps I should have asked, what’s it like to be a parent?”

“Hard.” He stirs the liquid in his glass. “People who don’t have children see the good and bad moments. When the child is well behaved or is so cute you can’t help but fall in love. You want a child right then and there. Vow to the world and everyone around you that you want a houseful of them. 

“Then, there are times when no matter what, you can’t get your kid to stop crying. Or, they misbehave and you don’t know what to do and how to correct the behavior. They scream and throw things and have tantrums in public and it’s embarrassing. People blame the parents right away saying they need to do better. That’s the hard part. People assume you’re not doing a good job but you’re doing the best you can. What works with one child doesn’t work with the other. You can’t use blueprints for a museum to build a shed. 

“So you need to rethink your game plan and just when you think you have everything figured out, BOOM!” He shouts startling you. “Your kid changes the game. But I wouldn’t want to think of a world where Lily isn’t in it. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. She’ll always be the best thing that’s happened to me. She’s taught me how to love someone unconditionally. To know that if she is in trouble I will willingly throw my life away to protect her. The moment I held her in my arms for the first time was the moment I knew I would and will die for her.”

“Wow…that was…beautiful.” 

Mr. Suh turns to you to see you looking at him in awe. Snickering he takes a sip of his wine, a light flush coming to his cheeks. “You’ll know how it feels when you become a mother.”

“I hope I will. And what about being a teacher?”

Smirking, he slides down on the couch. “The first year is hard. The second year is still hard but you sort of know what to expect. By your third year you’ll be a pro. It’s a job that not everyone can do but those who do it know how amazing it truly is. Oh, a piece of advice — keep your lesson plans for five years at a time. That’s what one of my professors told me. After five years redo them. That way it’s one less thing you have to worry about. Creating lesson plans is a pain, so anyway you can relieve that will always be beneficial for you.” Nodding you keep this tidbit of advice locked in your memory. “Pray tell, why did you choose the teaching profession?”

Shrugging you take a sip of your wine. “I’ve always loved school. I like being in school and learning. I would help out any chance I could get. I was even able to leave and help out the other school staff since I got done with my work quickly. When I was in High School a couple teachers said I’d make the perfect teacher so I listened to them and here I am. Failing miserably…”

“You’re not failing miserably. You’re just failing right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Geez…thanks, Mr. Suh.”

Laughing he places his glass on the end table closest to him before shifting closer to you. “From now on you can call me Johnny.”

“You too? Man you and Mr. Jeong really are cut from the same cloth.”

“What about Jaehyun?”

“He wanted me to call him by his first name too. I mean yeah I’ve spoken to him a few times because of this whole tutoring thing but not enough to feel comfortable calling him by his first name. Plus, it would cross the lines of the student teacher dynamic.”

“Maybe he wants you to feel comfortable around him.” Mr. Suh peers down at you. 

Snorting, you take another small sip of your wine. “If he wants me to feel comfortable he needs to stop making everywhere he goes look like he’s on a runway.”

Cracking up Mr. Suh places a hand on your knee to hold himself up. The small gesture making your body numb with hope that he won’t remove his hand too soon. Visions of your dream springing to life in your mind. How he wanted you to sit on his lap. How you were seconds from kissing him. Gulping you see him wiping his eyes. 

“So he still hasn’t broken that habit?”

“Habit?”

“Back when we were in college, Jaehyun was the ‘it boy,’ on campus. All the girls wanted him. It was crazy. He never paid them any mind but he was aware of the magnetism he held. He started running a hand through his hair and would hear girls screaming their heads off. He’d bite his lip, smirk, and show his dimples — all to give them just a taste of attention, but he would never go further than that.”

Leaning closer to Mr. Suh you ask him a question you never thought you’d ask. “Is Mr. Jeong…you know…into guys?”

Staring flabbergasted, Mr. Suh pushes your forehead back with his index finger. “I would never bring up men around Jaehyun again. No. Believe me. He has no interest in men.” Mr. Suh looks you up and down for a second before chugging the rest of his wine. “Trust me.”

“Sorry if I was offensive. It’s just the way you were talking made it seem like he was teasing people because he knew they would never have his heart.”

“That’s exactly what he did. But not because he’s gay. Jaehyun,” he sighs. “He’s a strange man. One second he seems head over heels for someone, the next, he’s flirting with someone else. I think the prospect of settling down with someone scares him. So he gives them an inch and hopes they don’t take a mile. But they always do and he leaves them.”

“So, Mr. Jeong is scared to be in a relationship?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Wow, I feel bad for him.”

Chuckling, Mr. Suh sits back intrigued. “Since we’re talking openly for once. What about you, my dear student? Any boys you’re interested in? Or should I ask about girls too?” He winks.

“Guys. That’s it for me.” Your face starts to warm. “There is one person…” you fiddle with your fingers. “They’re super smart, handsome, kind, and I don’t know…I just love being around them. I still have a lot to learn but I’m hoping one day I’ll be given the chance to get to know them better.”

“Anyone I know?” He nudges you, winking.

“E-Eh?!” 

Fear quickens your heartbeat. You tried to be as vague as humanly possible. There is no way that he can tell you’re talking about him. Handsome, smart, kind — qualities that can describe half of the world! No way in hell could he narrow it down to himself. 

“Come now, you can tell me. It’s Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

“Wh-What?!” You squeak.

“Everyone falls for him. It’s a natural thing. No need to be shy about it.”

“Mr. Suh, really I —”

“Johnny.” He corrects.

“J-John…Mr. Suh!”

“Come on, it’s not that hard. John…ny…” he says his name slowly.

“I’m not an imbecile!” You put down your glass. “And I don’t have feelings for Mr. Jeong! The person I was talking about was you —” freezing you try to come up with a different response. “You…you’ll never know! A woman’s heart is a land of mystery. It’s a secret!”

Mr. Suh stares at you. Eyes scanning over your features. Hoping that your trembling body won’t catch his attention. How could you have been so stupid? You are an imbecile! You almost let it slip that you have feelings for your tutor! Hell you don’t even know what kind of feelings you have for him. Lust? Hell yeah. Infatuation? Definitely! Pity? Only for Lily. Like? S-Sure... 

Turning away from his gaze you wipe your hands on your jeans. “I’m sorry for shouting. You’ve been kind to me this entire time. I owe everything to you. I just got…defensive…”

“No. I should apologize. I didn’t intend to press you to that point. But I have to ask,” he moves closer to you, his hand gently resting under your chin. Turning your head to face him he stares deep into your eyes. “Is this secret person…me?”

Sitting in the passenger seat you stare out the window. Mr. Suh sent you a message on Friday that stated Lily was sick and he needed to take care of her so tutoring was off, but to come on Saturday, today, which you’re not particularly excited for. The unbeknownst blessing of not having lessons yesterday was that your car was in the shop and there was no one to take you to your lesson. 

Granted, the garage still hasn't looked at your car yet, promising to have it done by tomorrow around lunch — Doyoung has offered to drive you to Mr. Suh’s since Jen has practice. Sighing, you rest your head against the window.

“What’s up with you? Thought this tutor of yours was helping you.”

“He is. I actually got a passing grade last time.” 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you ever met someone that you’ve instantly liked? You may not know them but there is this undying attraction to them?”

“He’s hot isn't he?” Doyoung snickers. 

“Yes. Like just my type. He’s tall, muscular but not overly buff, he has the cutest lips. Like they remind me of a cat and he’s gentle and sweet. You should see him with his daughter and —”

“Hold up!” Doyoung slows down at the red light before glancing your way. “He’s a dad?”

“Yeah. His daughter's name is Lily and she’s so cute!”

“No.”

“No?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

“What if I’m not thinking about anything?”

“I’ve known you our whole lives. You don’t just randomly bring up the topic of liking someone without reason. If he has a child he isn’t someone you need to worry about.”

“Why not?”

“He needs to focus on raising his kid, not getting his dick wet.” He says bluntly. 

Turning to him, shocked by his choice of words Doyoung just shrugs as he proceeds forward. “Did you have to say that?!”

“You’re blushing aren’t you? How many dreams have you had about fucking him?”

“None!” You shriek but then start mumbling. “I always wake up before the good stuff.”

“Why would you put yourself through this? He’s a father. He’s your tutor. Once the semester is done and over with you won’t see him again. He’s older and you’re still in college. Why?”

“Because…because…” you sigh, turning back to the window. “I don’t know.”

“Does he know?”

Groaning, you bang your head against the window, “yeah...”

“How did he find out?”

Staring out into the traffic you drift back to that evening in Mr. Suh’s study…

‘Turning your head to face him he stares deep into your eyes. “Is this secret person…me?’

“Wh-What?! Mr. Suh…” you turn from him, your face growing warmer. “Wh-What makes you ask that kind of question? You’re my tutor…”

“Because on the first day you clearly told someone you thought I was hot.” He says matter of factly. 

“Eh?! S-S-So you did look at my phone!”

“I had to look at it to turn it off. And yes, the message in very large print clearly stated that your friend wanted a picture.”

“Sh-She was just joking! I swear! She’s very blunt.”

“So the message you sent was in regards to me being hot?” He quirks a brow. 

“No! I mean…yes…I mean…”

Moving away from you Mr. Suh runs a hand through his hair. “It’s best for you not to like me.”

Feeling a sharp pain hit your heart you look at him as if someone told you your dog passed away. Bewildered. Heartbroken. “Wh-Why?” You attempt to ask firmly but the quivering in your jaw prevents you. 

Chuckling he crosses his long legs. Arms settling across his chest. “I’m married.” He holds up his ring finger. “No point in crushing on a married man. Plus, I have a child. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with a small infatuation.”

A small infatuation?! Glaring at him he looks completely disinterested in your unwilling confession. What you feel is not a small infatuation! It’s not puppy love or displaced affection! And for him to sit here nonchalantly like your presence annoys him…you could just…just…

Pushing yourself to your feet you march in front of him. He’s married? Ha! If only he knew that you knew his wife left not only him but his daughter. Over her, he’s still holding onto some kind of hope! Why would he do that?! She left him! She’s gone, most likely never to come back! Holding on to hope will only hurt him in the end and Lily! And his daughter…so what?! All of this is a means of deflecting!

“It’s not a small infatuation. I’m not a teenager. I know what and how I am feeling. Yes, I sent a text message to my friend saying that you were hot. If you haven’t noticed at all, you’re incredibly hot! The hottest man I’ve ever seen! Not once did I feel any amount of attraction to anyone I’ve been in school with, that is until you came along! Do you think I wanted to have a crush on my tutor? Do you know how hard it is to focus sometimes?

“Also, I clearly noted the wedding ring on your finger. But I’m also aware that —” you pause. “I’m…” Calm down…breathe… Taking a huge inhale you let the air fill your lungs. Simmering down the anger that was building up inside you. “I’m also aware that just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for someone else. Sadly we’re not a species that has only one love for the rest of our life. I believe only a couple of species on the planet are like that.”

“So what do you suggest?” Mr. Suh reaches up grabbing your wrists. “You want me to cheat on my wife?” He yanks you down. Your body falling on top of his. “Is that what you want me to do?” He grabs your legs and easily moves you so you’re straddling his lap. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” You try to move away from him but he holds you firmly in his arms. 

Pressing his lips against your ear — unfortunately sending shivers down your spine and a spark of fire to your core he firmly states, “answer the question.”

“N-No…”

“No, you don’t want to answer the question or no, you don’t want me to cheat?”

“Both!”

Arms falling to the couch he allows you to crawl off of him. Moving as far away from him as possible you wait until your heart calms down. The moment you waited for. The moment you’ve fantasized about did not pan out how you truly wanted it to. You were mere seconds from telling him you knew about his wife. The only way you could have known is from Mr. Jeong, and by no means we’re you going to get him in trouble.

“I think I should go.” You get up heading for the door. “Forget I even mentioned anything.”

“Wait!” Stopping as your feet barely cross over the threshold you glance over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Mr. Suh apologizes with his head low to his chest. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“Wh-What?” You turn completely to look at him. Hands interlaced together tightly. Knuckles turning white as snow. His hair hanging over his eyes making him look more apologetic. More ashamed… “M-Mr. Suh?” You call gently. 

His hands unclasp, one reaching up to wipe his eyes. Without thinking you spring over to him. Startling him as you push his shoulders back until they’re resting on the back of the couch — eyes red and tear stained. Straddling his lap you plant a gentle kiss on his lips. His body freezes beneath you but you pay it no mind. This is what you’ve wanted. To feel what it would be like to kiss him. To feel his body pressed against yours. 

Leaving soft comforting kiss after kiss, his hands find purchase on your waist. Slowly he starts to kiss you back. His lips moving along with yours tentatively. Unsure and if this is right. But when a groan coming from the back of his throat pierces your ears you kiss him deeper. Opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. 

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to grow steamy. Your body burning up from the inside out. Stomach churning to the sounds coming from your tutor. Low growls that tell you he’s holding back with all his might. Wanting to feel all of him you take matters into your own hands. As his tongue slips into your mouth you quickly wrap your lips around it, sucking on the wet slippery muscle. Giving him a taste of what it would be like on another part of his body. His hands grip your waist tightly. Eyes closed shut. Brows furrowed while you work your magic. His face, his expressions, the noises he’s making driving you forward to do more. Much much more.

With one final loud suck of his tongue you pull back. Chest heaving heavily you attack his neck. Biting, nipping, kissing and sucking on the taught flesh. Grazing your tongue across his Adam’s apple has him pushing you onto your back. Now hovering over you he stares down at you with wild eyes. Pupils dilated and filled with lust. 

“Kiss me, please…” you beg for him with your arms wide open. 

Gulping loudly Mr. Suh lowers himself to you. His chest sliding up yours making you squirm beneath him. His lips skate over yours, a whisper of a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Whimper after whimper comes from you. Never before have you been this desperate to feel someone’s lips on yours. To feel their body on top of you — pressing you into a couch until you can’t escape. 

“You’re so beauti —”

“Daddy!!” Lily calls out for him. “Daddy!!”

In a matter of seconds Mr. Suh is off of you. Back pressed against the arm of the couch from the opposite end. Hair mused. Chest rising and falling rapidly and a rather noticeable…you look away from his lap. 

“Y-You need to leave!” He scrambles to his feet.

“Daddy!” Lily cries out. 

“Coming!” He says frantically.

“Mr. Suh, I…”

“Just leave!” He shouts before leaving his study in a hurry. “Lily! Sweetheart, what’s wrong?!”

“He saw a text I sent to Jen about him being hot. Didn’t take much to know I was into him,” you tell Doyoung leaving out the sorted details. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I would run away and avoid him but I kind of need his help in order to pass.” Turning to your friend with a somber face you try your best to smile but a single tear slides down your cheek. “So I’m going to pass and put him behind me after this semester.”

Reaching over, Doyoung places his hand in yours. “I’m sorry, kid.” 

“Me too.” You wipe your eye. 

Within five minutes you were in front of Mr. Suh’s house. Doyoung whistling the moment he sees the place. Asking if you wanted him to walk you to the door for extra support you declined the offer. Telling him to be here at 6PM or at least to have his cell on hand if you should need to call him for an earlier pick up, he reassures you that he’ll be close by. 

As you make your way up to the house Doyoung calls your name. Turning to look back you’re engulfed in his arms. “I know this is going to be hard but please stay strong, okay?” He asks you.

Nodding and giving into the sweetest, softest hug known to mankind you melt into him. “I will.”

“If you need ANYTHING, call me or text me. I’ll be over here ASAP. Got it?”

“Mmm…” you nod. 

“See you soon.”

“See you soon, and thank you!” You shout, waving your hand. 

Waving back, Doyoung gets into his car and drives off down the road. Turning back to the house you find Mr. Suh at the door. Eyes dark and unreadable. Walking up to him his aura is different. Then again, the hot makeout session the other day could be the reason. 

“You’re late.” He says as you pass by him.

“I needed a ride. Sorry.” You head straight for the kitchen. “Oh. Before I forget.” You pull out a small bag with some chicken noodle soup in it and orange juice. “For Lily.”

“She’s fine.” He brushes past you without taking the bag. 

“I see.” Leaving the bag on the counter near the kitchen sink you take your seat. “I’ve already done the homework.” You take out your binder. 

“Hand it to me.”

Doing as instructed you wait for Mr. Suh to check your work. His hand scribbles down where you’ve made mistakes. Of course there were mistakes. You haven’t been able to get the kiss you had with him out of your mind. Even in your sleep you feel his lips and hands on you. Taking out your textbook you open up to the chapter Mr. Jeong went over yesterday to distract yourself.

“What is this mess?” Mr. Suh breaks you out of your thoughts. “This!” He shoves your homework up to your face where all you see are red markings. “This is unacceptable!”

“Sorry.” You look down. 

“What happened? You should have been able to get past this with flying colors?” Shrugging you avoid looking at him. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know what happened!”

“Did you double check your work? Did you read the questions carefully?!”

“I thought I did.”

“Well thinking wasn’t on your side now was it?!” He snarls.

“Look!” You shout. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get them all wrong! I’m sorry I’m too stupid to understand this! Why do I need to learn this anyway?! I want to teach Kindergarten! I want to have fun and watch them learn their alphabet and numbers. Why do I need to learn all this other stuff?!” Tears start pouring down your face. 

“Because you don’t know what grade you will be assigned to! That’s why! So enough with the tears and pay attention!”

“Why are you being so mean?” You sniff. 

He goes quiet, his body rigged. Ever since you walked up to him he’s been a real asshole for no reason at all. Yes, you got questions wrong — knowing it’s only because the kiss that you can’t get out of your mind being the main culprit behind the insurmountable amount of red ink on your homework. But this, this behavior because you got answers wrong is not that the Johnny… Mr. Suh, that you know. 

Turning his head from you he lets out a huge exhale. “Because being nice to you ended up with us…” he stops himself before proceeding with the real reason he’s in a shitty mood.

“So that constitutes you being mean to me instead?!” Taking out your phone which you had on mute you start to type out an S.O.S to Doyoung.

“No phones!” He grabs your phone. “I told you this already. Are you having a hard time following simple rules?!”

“I was telling my friend to pick me up! Give me my phone!”

“What?! I cleared my schedule to help you and you’re going to leave? You’re here to learn so that’s what you’re going to do. Now sit down and listen to me young lady!”

“No! You’re not my father and you’re not my teacher!” You challenge by packing up your belongings.

“I said sit down!” He stands up his body looming over you threateningly. 

“No!” You tremble in rage. “Give me my phone…back!!”

“So you can contact that boyfriend of yours?”

Your arms fly from your sides exasperated. “Boyfriend?!” 

“Yes. The boy glaring daggers at me!”

“Glare? What glare?! Are you talking about Doyoung?! He’s my best friend. I’ve known him my whole life! W-Wait…are you…jealous?!”

Quickly Mr. Suh’s demeanor changes from hostile tutor to blubbering idiot. “J-Jealous?! Wh-What?! That’s absurd!”

“If you’re not jealous you’ll give me back my phone,” you hold out your hand.

“I’m not jealous and you’re not getting your phone back. You’re here to learn!”

“Give me my phone!”

“No! Now sit down.” Ignoring his order you zip up your now full again backpack and hurl it over your shoulders. “Wh-What are you doing?!”

“Leaving.”

“You can’t leave!”

“I’m my own person. I’m free to go wherever I please.”

“If you leave I won’t tutor you anymore!” He threatens.

“Fine with me.” You continue to pack your things.

“Y-You’ll fail!”

“Guess I will.”

“You can’t be serious.” You ignore him as you head out of the kitchen. “Y-Yah!!” He chases after you. “Are you stupid?!”

“Already told you I was the first day we met.”

“Stop this!” He grabs your wrist. Halting in front of him you don’t bother turning around. “Fine. Take it.” He growls, placing your phone in your hand. “There. Now will you stay?”

“No.” You click send and head to the front door.

“What?! I gave you back your phone!”

“So?” You smirk. “You think that means that I’ll stay here? I’m not going to deal with someone who has an attitude problem. It doesn’t help me at all.”

“I don’t have an attitude problem.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“I don’t!”

“From the moment I walked inside you’ve been cross with me. Why? Is it because we kissed the other day? Is it because Lily is sick and you’re tired? Or is it because you saw me hugging someone else?” Mr. Suh looks away from you the moment you mention the hug. Shocked, you cross your arms over your chest. “No way,” you chuckle. “Don’t tell me that Mr. Suh has a wittle crush,” you say in a baby voice. “Wouldn’t that be something? Especially after all that bullshit about it being bad for me to like you.”

“Stop.” His fists clench at his sides, his body trembling as he glares at you.

“What? Is it because I’m right? Did you fall for me when I kissed you?” You press.

“I said stop!”

“Come now, do share with the class how you’re feeling,” you spread your arms open as if you’re talking to more than just Mr. Suh. Seething with rage, you peer up at him through your lashes. “Come now, Johnny.” 

A sharp pain strikes down your spine as your back makes contact with the wall closest to the door — a tiny alcove just barely big enough for you to nestle into you, no escape in sight. You gasp for air as strong hands grip both your waist and your neck, making sure that you don’t get away. Lips crash down onto yours with such force you’re sure the metallic taste in your mouth is your own blood. Teeth crash into teeth, the grip on your waist tightens — eyes getting blurry with tears as your air supply starts to run low. 

Pulling back for a seconds, Mr. Suh takes in a breath allowing you to breathe as well, only for his lips to crash down onto yours again. This kiss was anything but gentle. It’s rough and raw like he’s trying to devour your soul one kiss at a time. Stomach swirling like a tornado when he growls against your lips, a beast waiting to devour it’s prey — your knees almost give out from the hottest guttural groan you’ve ever heard a man make in your life, your thighs clenching together.  

“You’re such a brat,” he grips your waist tighter leaving out a shaky breath. 

Mr. Suh’s grip on your neck loosens as his body presses against yours, the feeling of his arousal already present. Gasping, your arms wrap around his neck drawing him closer to you. His tongue skates across your lips, begging for entrance. Parting your lips, his tongue swirls around yours fighting for dominance, which you gladly complied — mind already turning to mush at the slightest touch and kiss he presses against you.

Pulling back he leaves you with a single peck on your lips as both of your chests rapidly heave — your breath mixing with his, unknown feelings blending in with each other’s.

“I-I think you need to be taught some manners.” He says breathlessly. 

“I-I’m sorry…” you plead while your mind races for what might come if he does in fact punish you.

He snickers, his eyes cloudy and hooded, a lusftul sinister look plastered on his face. “Liar.” He squeezes your neck tighter, his eyes starting to close.

“Pl-Please…c-can’t…breathe…”

Laughing he grips your neck even harder — still not tight enough to do any real damage, but your breath still feels staggered each breath you take in. “Good!” He hisses and trails his lips over your cheek before he kisses the corner of your mouth. “You dare to argue with me in my own home then proceed to tease me!” His grip on your waist tightens while he pulls you into him, your bodies flush against each other’s. “You insolent brat!” 

Kissing you again the little air you were able to breathe is taken from you. Your body growing limp in his hold. Your mind lost to the lust that’s blazing through you like a rocket. It’s embers striking every nerve in your body — the slightest touch of his lips to yours makes you whimper, the grip of his hand on your waist growing tighter till it feels as if he’ll leave impressions has you shivering. Your lips move along with his desperately, waiting to be consumed by him to have your whole existence wrecked by a single glance from him. Whatever he wants to do to you, you’ll gladly comply. A slave to his touch you become engulfed by him. 

Like a switch going off, Mr. Suh rips you from the wall by your neck and you’re free from him. “I will never be jealous,” he rolls his neck, eyes growing dark with hunger each step he takes towards you. “That little twerp can have you only when I’m done with you.”

The powerful wolf and the meek rabbit you back away from, your hands raised in both defense and to placate him. “I-I don’t want him…”

Smirking, he continues to stalk towards you your body getting closer and closer to the couch. “Why is that?”

Your heels smack against the bottom of the couch. Trapped again you can’t go anywhere else without him catching you easily. Your body trembles, your skin covered in goosebumps. “I want you!” You say desperately reaching out to him. “Only you.”

Pushing you down onto the couch, Johnny wastes no time at all. Towering over you, his eyes so dark and full of feral lust mirroring your own, his gaze washes over you inch by inch. Stopping at your breasts, you involuntarily take a deep breath in — causing your chest to rise and Johnny’s bottom lip to be sucked between his teeth. His eyes travel lower to your stomach and then pauses for what seems like an eternity — your pelvis, his gaze lingers as sinful thoughts reel through your mind. 

What it would be like to have his tongue skate over your wet folds. What it would be like to have his fingers ramming inside of you, and the second most sinful thought of all — his dick pummeling into you without a second thought to your wellbeing. 

Possessed by desire, your legs start to spread apart, a subconscious invitation for him to come closer. To merge his body with your own. On cue, he moves forward just as your legs spread far enough for him to fit between them. One of his hands props his body up while the other touches your cheek gingerly. Your eyes start to close as you give into the soft caress. When his thumb passes over your lips you give it a small kiss. 

“Why did you have to do this to me?” 

“Why did you have to do this to me, Mr. Suh?” You throw the question back at him. It wasn’t just him that is under a spell, but yourself as well. 

Ever since you first saw him you wanted to know him, to be a part of his life. Cupid’s arrow didn’t just get you — it flew straight into your mind and scrambled your brain. The moment you saw him playing outside with his daughter, the smile on his face; the carefree aura that surrounded him sent you soaring. Entranced the moment your eyes fell on him you’ve wondered how haven’t jumped him yet.

Leaning into his touch you turn your head kissing the palm of his hand, a faint sent of lotion and soap fill your head; with a splash of your perfume. Your lips travel to his wrist and down his arm, your eyes staring him down wanting nothing more than to feel his lips over your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

“Please don’t punish me, Mr. Suh…” You lick and nip at his wrist.

“Shit…” he rasps. “You’re so beautiful,” he rubs his thumb against your cheek before grabbing your chin. “But you’re a brat, and brats need to be dealt with.” 

Gulping from anticipation you feign innocence. “I-I didn’t mean it! Please!” Your mouth says forgive me but your eyes say come and get it. 

Smirking, Johnny’s hand travels from your chin down to your neck and across your décolletage slowly — making sure every touch has you inching closer and closer to him. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes~” you purr reaching up to him, pulling him down to you.

Johnny’s eyes grow darker. His grip around your neck loosening. “What do you think you’re doing?” He lowers himself onto you more until his chest is pressed against yours. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to do that.” Sighing he shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything!” You choke out. 

His lips meet yours in a gentle yet chilling kiss, “be careful what you wish for.” He says in a dark husky voice. 

“You can do whatever you want to me…” you state firmly. “Anything.”

Stopping the smile that played on his lips, his hand travels down from your décolletage to just above the neckline of your low cut shirt. “Are you sure about that?”

Nodding eagerly, you stare up at him. With a swift movement Johnny has you switching positions with him; instead of standing between his legs — he pulls you on top of his lap, your legs straddling him. His hands rest just above your ass — your body sinking until you feel the bulge that is seconds from bursting through his loose fitted jeans. Wanting nothing than to grind your hips against him you withhold the urge. 

After so many nights of fantasizing about him you’re finally at the moment where your dreams can become reality. There’s no way you’re going to screw it up and push him past his comfort zone. Especially, with a burning question in the back of your mind. With the roll of his hips your body gives into the lust you’ve kept locked away. Throwing away your inhibitions you grab his cheeks into your hand and smash your lips down onto his. 

Your hips grinding into each other’s, both of you gasp for air between kisses — his grip on you tightening, holding you down against him getting out his frustration just as much as you’re chasing to release the frustration within you. Biting his bottom lip you’re desperate to taste him again. To feel his tongue swirling around yours in a forbidden dance of passion. 

Parting his lips your tongue slides into his mouth only to capture his tongue between your lips. Shifting your body higher up on his, you suck on his tongue as if it were his dick. Mr. Suh groaning, his arms going from the top of your behind to around your waist. Releasing his tongue you go back to kissing him, missing the feeling of his lips on yours. 

His mouth moves from yours and down to your chin. Angling your head back you give him access to your neck. Nipping, sucking and biting, Mr. Suh marks you, claiming ownership of your body. Moving down to the base of your neck, you melt in his hold a shiver washing over you. Smiling against your neck his lips spread and suck on a sensitive spot. Soft whimpers escape your lips — wanting to both flee from him as well as grab onto his hair to keep yourself in place to savor the delightful feeling.

Moving back from your neck Mr. Suh glances at the art piece he’s created on your body. His hold on you loosens allowing you to find purchase again on his lap both of you hissing when your clothed core brushes against his bulge. 

Wincing as your hips roll over his again, keeping his hands at your waist to steady your ministrations he confesses. “J-Just so you know, I-I’ve never done this before.” 

“Never done what before?” You ask slowing down before you work yourself up even more. 

His eyes quiver from fear, apprehension, you can’t tell. Touching his cheek you smile and give him a gentle nod of encouragement. 

“I don’t normally want to fuck my students. In fact, I’ve never wanted to do that before until —’’

“Until?” You give a faint smile.

Rolling his hips you whimper bringing your hand up to your lips shocked by the sound that passed your lips. “What do you think?” He asks.

“I never thought of you as someone who sleeps with his students. Especially, not with Lily around —” gasping you look behind you to the staircase. “I-Is she here? Shit, I didn’t think about it until now…” scrambling to get off of his lap Mr. Suh keeps you in place.

“I wouldn’t have started anything with you if Lily were in the house. She’s with Jaehyun right now. His neighbor’s kids are her classmates. She visits him every now and then to spend more time with them. It’s okay we’re alone,” he chuckles.

“Thank heavens,” you sink into his hold. “Wait a second! I thought she was sick. Is she well enough to be around others?” You perk up again.

Avoiding your gaze Johnny clears his throat. “Uh, about that…I, uh, lied. Well, I mean she wasn’t feeling well. She ate too much chocolate and had a stomach ache, but she’s fine now.”

Freezing on top of him your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bought so much.”

Wrapping a gentle hand around your neck he pulls you down to him. “She ate my chocolate apparently. Snuck down at night,” he smiles against your lips. “The little sneak.”

Smiling along with him you enjoy the warm cozy feeling of his slipping from your neck down to your back, where his his thumb rubs against you with a soothing touch. “She’s adorable. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

“Thank you,” Johnny kisses you gently. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about her mother,” he pulls away from you hands resting on your hips once again. 

Shit…

“Oh, I, now that you mention it, I haven’t met her.” You laugh nervously.

Not believing your realization one bit he squints at you. “Exactly what has Jaehyun told you?”

Ears perking up you turn away from him. “Mr. Jeong? What do you mean?”

“Now I could be a poor judge of character, but you don’t seem like the type of girl who would ruin a marriage just because she has the hots for the husband. So, I’m guessing you either know or have an inkling as to why you haven’t met Lily’s mother. So, what is it?”

“Ummm, I mean, I…”

A dark aura swirls around Mr. Suh while a devilish grin dances across his face. “Hmm, maybe a little coaxing will do the trick,” he moves one of his hands from your hips to between your legs — lifting away from him startled, he uses the opportunity to cup your throbbing core. “So, what do you know?” He adds pressure while rubbing his hand over you, stirring the neediness to have him buried deep inside of you.

“M-Mr. S-Suh!!”

“Come on, tell me, what do you know?” He presses harder against your pulsating core, your body pushing down against his hand wanting more. 

Shaking your head you try to prolong his taunting. “N-Nothing! W-We barely talk about you,” a half truth and half lie. 

Slowing down Johnny goes to remove his hand but you grab his wrist. “Oh, do you suddenly remember?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Please!” You bring his hand back to your now soaking core not caring if your jeans are getting ruined and grind against his hand.

Gulping, Johnny watches you for a second mesmerized by your performance. How you’re so worked up and he hasn’t even taken off your clothes. Snapping out of his thoughts he yanks his hand away. “Tell me what you know and I’ll continue.” 

Crying out you go to grab his hand again but he puts it behind his back. “MR. SUH!!!!” 

“Tell me what I need to know and if you’re good I’ll give you what you want and then some.” 

“Why do you want to know so badly? Really, Mr. Jeong normally just asks if you’re nice to me and if I’m actually learning anything. Apparently my grades aren’t proof enough.” Your body goes slack against him.

Kissing the top of your head that’s now resting on his chest, he slides his hands under the hem of your shirt and up your back. The warmth of his fingers making you shiver. “Just tell me, that’s all you have to do.” He whispers.

Groaning you shake your head. “If I die its your fault. He told me to keep this knowledge a secret you know.”

“He won’t hurt you. Now out with it. I’d like to have some adult time before Lily gets home.”

Sitting up straight almost hitting Johnny’s chin you clear your throat. “Mr. Jeong told me not to mention your wife at all in front of you or Lily. He didn’t give me a lot of details but just said that she left and mentioning her would make you upset. So that’s why I never once asked about her. 

“I actually wanted to give her a present of appreciation for allowing me to borrow you, this whole time. I assumed she would have preferred spending the end of the day with Lily and yourself, but Mr. Jeong said she wouldn’t get it. I thought it meant she was sick or dead. He corrected me.”

“So, you know everything?” His gaze falls from yours.

“In a roundabout way, yes.”

“So, I must ask, are you sure these feelings of yours, aren’t out of pity? The poor tutor whose wife ditched him in the middle of the night.”

“Stop that!” You shout startling him. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I already thought you were irresistible from the moment I saw you. That awkward text message to my friend is evidence enough.” He chuckles, shaking his head still avoiding your gaze. Grabbing his chin you turn and raise his head so he’s looking into your eyes. 

“Nothing has changed. I do not like you out of pity. I like you because you’re resilient. You raised Lily into a sweet girl, really, she’s adorable. You juggled being a full-time dad with a full-time job. You’re still able to keep a bachelor like Mr. Jeong around despite it all so you’re either super mega ultra best friends, or you’re loaded and he’s using you for your money.” He cracks a huge smile and you continue. “And,” your hand drops from his chin but a single finger slides down his neck, Johnny gulping in the process. “You obviously take care of your physical health too…” your finger finds it’s way to the middle of his broad muscular chest.

”That’s a lot coming from someone who doesn't know me at all.” He attempts to brush off your compliments, but the tinge of pink coming to his cheeks betrays him. 

“And you don’t know anything about me aside from the fact that you’re now my tutor and math is definitely not my best subject. Yet here we are,” you roll your pelvis against his. “Two strangers trying to find something that they need.”

”What exactly do I need?” He grunts when a particular roll of your hips makes him buck upwards.

Smirking, you slither down to the floor, crawling between Johnny’s legs. Locking eyes with him, you run your hands up his thighs and over the tent of his jeans. 

“A release,” you giggle moving your face closer to where his dick is covered by his jeans. 

Pressing harder against him you palm him over the taught fabric. “I-Is that so?!!” He says breathlessly trying to keep his cool.

“Mhmm, oh and maybe a tight pussy to shove your big dick into.” You unzip his jeans. “Plus, it’s been far too long since I’ve gotten a proper release myself.”

Gulping, he watches you like a hawk, his chest rising and falling. “Wh-When was the last time exactly?”

Pausing, you think back to your last boyfriend. A boy indeed since you both were only sixteen at the time. He was nice and cute, the typical boy next door that every mother wants for her daughter. Hell, he even went to church on Sunday’s. The problem with him… behind those baby blue eyes and sweet smile, he was a complete sadist! 

Bending you over the bed frame while he plowed into you from behind, not warming you up, not caring about the fact it was your first time and you could feel blood trickling down your leg. It hurt a lot that first time. The couple times afterwards we’re just as bad. He called foreplay smacking your pussy with his dick, rather hard too. And a female orgasm, forget about it. He stated with his full chest ‘the female orgasm doesn’t exist. I’ve read numerous academic articles online.’ In truth he read a bunch of misogynistic, I’m-an alpha-male-who-can’t-make-a-woman-cum articles that convinced him otherwise. 

After the third terrible, painful sexual experience you had to grow a backbone and call it quits — resulting in a rumor that you loved eating ass, because that made sense. The only ass you would have eaten was his so it all backfired on him anyway. A snippet of karma for his pettiness. 

The only other experience was with your neighbor's daughter. An out of the blue moment, you were both watching porn and just wanted to know how it would feel. That was your senior year and boy was it… fun. A tiny secret you’ll keep till you find a man who is self-assured enough to handle it. Perhaps… Mr. Suh could be…

“It’s been quite a while. And I really,” you move back to tug down his jeans, Mr. Suh helping you by raising his butt off the couch. “Really need to get rid of this pent up frustration you’ve caused. And since it’s your fault,” you toss his jeans over your head. “I think it’s only fair that you help me out. Don’t you think?” 

Leaning forward you press your lips on Johnny’s incredible length. Already impressed you run your lips across his briefs licking a wet streak as you go.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans throwing his head back. “God that feels good already.”

Giggling you find the tip of his cock, his briefs showing a stain of precum on the outside. Smushing your thighs together you attempt to calm the beating of your pulsing bundle of nerves — wanting so badly to touch yourself, to come undone while sucking him off, but Mr. Suh needs this moment and you can wait. 

Suckling on the cum that’s leaked from him already you savor the taste of him. How many times you’ve dreamt about what he would taste like and smell like. How big he’d be — your imagination not doing him justice at all, and how it would feel for him to go balls deep inside of you. 

“I need your lips on me…” he groans, with one hand gripping the arm of the couch for dear life and the other tangled up in his hair. 

Kitten licking the impression of his cock you grab the waistband of his briefs and yank them down as well, till he steps out of them with your help. Tossing them behind you like you did his jeans you darn near pass out. Nothing you could have ever imagined would compare to what is in front of you. With your mouth hanging open, Johnny sits up taking off his shirt and throwing it with his other clothes. 

Sitting back he takes his more than you would have thought, length into his hand stroking it. Amazed at the scene in front of you, you stay put almost desperate to watch him jerk himself off before even motioning for you to come over and make him cum again. Now that would be punishment.

“Do you think you candle this?” He taunts you by wiggling his cock in front of you. 

Not only was he long but the amount of girth he possessed made it hard for his cock to stand up on its own. It’s just too damn heavy. 

“I-I’m more than willing to try!” You scramble between his legs desperate to taste him again.

Before you can take a hold of him, he yanks his cock back. “How badly do you want to suck my dick?”

“I’m soaking wet just thinking about it, Mr. Suh.”

Turning his head away from you stunned by your honesty he composes himself once more. “Come closer,” he calls to you.

Nestling as close as you can between his legs, your arms rest on the tops of his thighs. Earnestly waiting for him to let you take control. 

“Open your mouth,” he instructs.

Opening wide, you follow his instructions. Mr. Suh, pumps his hand up and down his length a few more times until he places just the tip of his cock into your mouth. 

“Ouhm,” you make a non-coherent sound and try to hold onto his length, the weight of his cock already a lot by just the tip resting in your mouth. 

Quickly, before you can take hold, Mr. Suh pulls his cock away chuckling. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”

Clicking your tongue you get up onto your knees. “Watch me!” 

Staring down at the massive length of Johnny’s cock, you gulp as lightly as you can muster. This is going to be a hell of a task. Of course, you expected him to be packing but this! It’s as everyone says, God does have favorites and he’s bestowed Johnny onto you. 

Thank you.

Looking up at Johnny you stare him down as you stick out your tongue. Getting closer and closer to the tip of his cock, his bottom lip gets snagged between his teeth. Anticipation causes his chest to rise and fall — ears, cheeks, and chest turning the lightest shade of pink. Nodding he urges you to move closer and when you finally make contact with the tip, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

”Fuck~~~” he drawls out a growl. 

It wasn’t just his eyes that rolled into the back of his head, but yours too. As you kitten lick down the length of his cock, you can’t help but moan onto his shaft. The taste and smell of him, intoxicating. You lick a stripe down to the base only to pull away and blow gently on the wetness you created.

“Sh-Shit…” Mr. Suh chuckles. “That’s something new,” he strokes the top of your head. 

“Learned it from an ex,” you admit. 

“Tell them I said thanks.” Smirking, you kiss up and down his length before finally taking him into your mouth. “Oh, yes baby…”

Hollowing out your cheeks you suck on the head of his cock. Like a woman possessed you dive deeper and deeper around him. The tip reaching the back of your throat gagging you.

”Easy, baby…” Mr. Suh coos, stroking your hair. “Take your time.”

Sliding up his length your mouth hangs open, saliva stringing from his shaft to your lips. Eyes clouded with lust you merely nod before spitting on his dick and diving back down. 

He is right. There is far too much of him to gobble down immediately. His girth stretching out the corners of your lips making it feel as though they’ll split and bleed. But, you just can’t help yourself. He’s far too enticing to resist. 

Sitting up straighter, you take the lower base of Mr. Suh’s shaft and dive down until you reach your hand. A long groan comes from him. Taking a shot in the dark from your bestie’s rendezvous’ you try the one thing she said made her ex-boyfriend go crazy. 

As Mr. Suh reaches the back of your throat you hold him there in your mouth, your mouth sucking the life out of him before slowly pulling back. Your tongue juts out and you lick the back of his length along the pronounced vein — Mr. Suh’s body trembling underneath your touch.

”Fuck ~~~~ that felt good.” His hand strokes down your hair one last time before he grabs a handful. “But I need more of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Lowering your head back down onto his cock, Mr. Suh uses your mouth to get himself off. His hips thrusting up, his dick slides in and out of your mouth quickly. Your eyes tearing up — the tip of his length no doubt creating an impression in the back of your throat — pushing you down further, your body moves forward and curls as you try not to gag. Doing everything you’ve heard to stop yourself from retching, you keep your body still until he pulls out.

Choking on air, you wipe your mouth of the thick saliva that escaped past your lips. Looking up at Johnny starry and blurry eyed you watch him stroke himself earnestly waiting for you to wrap your lips around him again. Pushing his hand away, you do what that useless ex actually complimented you for — and give Mr. Suh the best blow job of his life.

Soaking his cock in your saliva, you lick all the way down his shaft, pumping your hand at the top before sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Mr. Suh’s hand finding purchase in your hair before he pulls you back, causing you to release his sack with a pop and barely giving you a chance to give the other a little lick before you’re staring at him again.

With a smirk plastered to your face you ask, “what? You don’t like that?” 

”Quite the contrary, but I’d rather cum with your mouth wrapped around my dick and not my balls.” 

Listening to his request you wrap your lips around the tip once more and suckle on it and his length like he was your favorite flavor of lollipop. Small kisses decorate the underside of his shaft before you kiss the head. Staring him down you slide your hand up and down his length.

Mr. Suh’s eyes start closing the closer you edge him to cum. His body trembling and his groans getting louder until you blow down the slickness you’ve created and he shivers beneath you. Giggling you hollow your cheeks around him and drink him up when his hands hold your head down on him.

”Fuck! Just a little…” he growls lifting his hip, his cock sliding in out of your mouth. “SHIT!!” He pushes your head down more until you choke on his dick, this time your hands grip the top of his thighs, your nails creating impressions in his skin. “I’m gonna~~~” he groans, his head dropping back to his shoulders.

Warm liquid fills your mouth. Small whimpers rumble in your throat as his cum coats your mouth. He doesn’t move away, his pelvis frozen in the air while he spasms beneath you. Your mouth fills and some of his essence slips past your lips and drips down his length. With one final jerk of his body, Mr. Suh lowers himself down back to the couch, his cock sliding from your lips slowly.

His chest heaves quickly, eyes clouded just like you know yours are. With a quick swipe of your thumb over your lips, you tilt your head back, his cum slipping down your throat until its gone. 

“Shit…” he lets out a long shaky breath. “That was amazing,” he chuckles. “But I do think I need to repay the favor.”

”Oh, believe me Mr. Suh, it was my pleasure,” you say, licking all of the residue of his release from your fingers. 

Wiggling a finger, he beckons you to him. “Come here, you little brat,” he calls to you. 

Getting onto your feet you stand between Mr. Suh’s legs. He sits up, eyeing your body before him. “Well this won’t do,” he slides his hand under your shirt. “We need to get rid of these.” 

Quickly, you strip from your shirt, the fabric flying off the top of your head and landing somewhere on the floor. Laughing, Mr. Suh, undoes the buttons of your jeans, sliding them down your body. Just like your shirt you discard the piece of clothing somewhere away from you on the floor. Standing in your bra and panties, Mr. Suh takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam over every curve and inch of you. 

Thanking the Lord you decided to wear your matching black bra and panties today instead of your usual ‘whatever you can find’ combo — he wraps his arms around the back of your legs and pulls you till you're straddling his lap once more, your soaked panties brushing against his hardened length.

Shocked that Mr. Suh could still be this hard after coming once, you wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re quite insatiable, Mr. Suh.” You tease and grind on top of his length earning a low growl from deep in his throat.

“How could I not be with a beautiful woman in my presence?” He asks and unsnaps your bra, the straps sliding down your arms before you sit up allowing him to pull the fabric off of you. Discarding it in the heap of clothing now collecting on the floor he takes in your bare breasts. 

With hungry eyes and a lick of his lips he cups one of your breasts in his hand. An airy moan has you throwing your head back, your hands resting on his shoulder. 

“So sensitive,” he says playfully. 

“They’ve always been sensitive…” you confess. 

“Is that so?” 

Leaning forward, he gives your unattended breast a kiss near your nipple. Another moan emitting from you. Taking both of your breasts in his hands, you arch your back, resting your hand instead of on his shoulder but the top of his thighs. Glancing up at you he captures one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud. While he pinches and twists the other nipple. 

Your hips start grinding on top of his lap, the feeling of his mouth on your breast a little too good to withstand. Growling his teeth graze over your perky bud making you jump a little. Chuckling he switches to the other side and repeats the same sensuous torture, your body craving for his mouth and hands on another part of you. Kissing along the top of your chest, his arms wrap around your waist pulling you back to him — his back resting on the back of the couch, while he devours your chest up to your neck one kiss, lick and nip at a time. 

“Your choice,” he whispers against your neck. “Mouth or fingers?”

“E-Eh?”

Staring up at you with those chocolate orbs of his, he reaches for the back of your neck and pulls you down gently till his lips rest on yours. “Do you want me to get you off with my mouth or my fingers?” He places a feather-like kiss on your lips. 

Gulping, you whisper against each kiss he leaves, “f-fingers…please!”

Knowing that there is no way in hell that you would last even a minute if his tongue grazed over your clit — at least with his fingers you’ll be able to feel him inside of you — the probability of lasting longer much higher than if he used his mouth. The throbbing between your legs making you three times more sensitive than normal, a loud moan interrupts your throats as Mr. Suh rubs over your wet folds — having already moved your panties to the side, he prods your entrance before rubbing over your clit once more. 

Mumbling against your neck, he pulls his hand back from you. “Fuck baby, you’re already so wet.” Pulling his hand up he shows you your slick on his fingers. “Damn…” he twiddles his fingers in amazement at how you’ve soaked them. “So wet for me,” he slides his fingers into his mouth.

“M-Mr. Suh!!!!” You squeak, grabbing his hand to stop him but his fingers disappear into his mouth. 

Groaning, his eyes roll back as he sucks his fingers clean of your juices. “So fucking good…I knew you’d taste good,” he drops his hand back down to between your legs, his fingers sliding across your folds; spreading your slick over your clit. Probing your entrance with his middle finger, he rubs your bundle of nerves with his thumb. 

“M-Mr. Suh…” you whimper. 

Sliding his finger inside of you, he bites down on your neck. “Shit, baby,” he pumps his finger in and out of you. Squelching noises from your pussy sound out alongside your soft moans. “You’re dripping wet...”

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” you place your hands on the side of his face, tilting his head up for you to kiss him. The taste of his mouth as well as your slick swirling around, arousing you more and more as the kiss prolongs. Your hips start swiveling before you drop down onto his finger — sinking him inside of you. “Mmm…more…” you raise your hips to slide back down on his fingers.

“You sure?” He bites your bottom lip.

”Pleas, Mr. Suh…” you whine.

Chuckling, he waits until you’ve raise your hips once more before sliding his finger out, a strand of your wetness pulling away. Rubbing over your clit gently with his fingers, he soothes you into a comfortable rhythm, your hips following his movements against his cock. When his fingers are nice and wet, he whispers ‘up,’ and you separate from his length. 

One-by-one, Mr. Suh slides in all of his fingers but his thumb into your entrance. Each time allowing you to adjust to his fingers and the spread of your inner walls. It’s been far too long since you’ve felt this good and without thinking, your pelvis starts to grind down onto his fingers. 

“That’s it baby,” he kisses your chin. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.”

With this simple command you sink yourself deeper down onto Mr. Suh’s fingers. Your body arching back, his fingers pressed together creating the perfect arch to rub over that sensitive spot inside of you. Forgetting to be coy, you become a moaning whimpering whore on top of him. The only thing running through your mind is trying to find that sweet release you’ve been dying to feel from the moment he kissed you. 

The way he grabbed you and choked you. The sensuous venom in his voice as he called you a brat. How he couldn’t help but rock his hips into yours while you sucked the life out of his tongue before you showed his cock — mere inches below you, the same treatment. Nothing else matters in the world right now than finding your release, but more importantly that Mr. Suh is the one helping you.

“SHIT!” You screech when a specific rock of your hip has you slowly coming undone on top of him. 

“Right there, baby?” He sits up, moving his body back to get a better angle.

“Yes! Yes!” You cry out.

Like a flash of light, Mr. Suh grips onto your hip while he quickly moves his fingers in and out of you — building up the pressure from deep inside of you. Your body starts to raise higher and higher as he continues to pound his fingers into you. Words are lost on your tongue while cries of pleasure and a bit of pain pour from you. The charging roar of your climax sending chills over your body, your sight becoming dark and blurry until you scream.

“FUCK!!!!” 

Liquid pours from you as Mr. Suh removes his hand, drenching his lap and the inside of your legs. He holds onto you tightly while your body jerks and spasms from the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt. 

“Keep going, baby,” he growls his hand rubbing over your clit gearing up another wave of juices to pour from you. “That’s it! That’s a good girl!” He chuckles, amazed at how riled up you got. “But I’m sorry, I need more from you.” Small spasms take over you as your placed with your back down on the couch and your legs wrapped around Mr. Suh’s hips. 

More? How can you possibly give any more than what you’ve already done? You know through the starry blackness covering your eyes, that you’ve soaked Mr. Suh’s lap and his couch in the process and yet he wants more? You didn’t even know you could squirt! And he wants to make you squirt more?!

Unwrapping your legs from his waist, he grabs a pillow from the couch placing it behind your head making sure you’re comfortable. Lifting up your legs he slides your drenched panties up and off of you, squeezing them to see how much of your squirt spills from them and onto the floor. 

“You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now,” he growls as the last drop of your essence hits the floor. 

“Then do it~~” you whine, still breathless from your release. 

“Patience, sweetie,” he chuckles, nestling between your legs. “I’m going to savor you for as long as I can.” 

Kissing the inside of your thighs, your body reacts instantaneously. Your legs clamping down around his face making him laugh as he’s squished between your thighs. Prying your legs open he gives your pussy mound a light kiss before his tongue finally lands on your bundle of nerves. 

“SH-SHIT!!!!” Your legs go to clamp around his face but he quickly holds out his hands to block them. “I-I can’t…I can’t…” you cry, your hands gripping the pillow behind you.

Popping his head up you can see your juices smeared across his lips and chin. “Yes you can,” he licks his lips staring you dead straight in the eyes. An involuntary moan has you bitting your bottom lip to keep you from making any more sounds. “You taste delicious,” he dives down for another lick. “Best pussy ever.” He mumbles against your folds.

Spreading your folds with his tongue, Mr. Suh clamps down around your clit, sucking it hard until you’re seeing stars once more. Raising your one leg up closer by your ears you give him more access. His hands move from your inner thighs to your hips while he devours you. Slurping sounds fill the room while he drinks you. 

Mr. Suh works quickly as he gears you up for your next orgasm. Hips moving against his mouth you try to urge your body as well to reach that place of euphoria once more. Hands moving from the pillow behind you to your breasts you massage the taut flesh giving in to the feeling of Mr. Suh’s tongue swirling around your clit and down to your entrance. 

Wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening like this on the couch, your body starts to rile up again. The tiny hairs on your body standing on end, a fire building up from the top of your head making its way to your stomach with ever roll of your hips and every swipe of Mr. Suh’s tongue.

As your hips raise higher and higher so does Mr. Suh’s face. Holding you steady he prods your entrance with his tongue, sucking up all of the juices that have since poured from you. 

“Don’t stop!” You moan. “Please don’t stop!” Darkness starts to take over your sight. The pressure in your stomach exploding into a million butterflies.

Gulping down your juices that starts to pour out of you once again, Mr. Suh wraps his arms around your legs keeping them in place, your pelvis raised in the air. 

“Come on, baby,” he says, face smushed into your pussy. “I need more from you.”  

Shaking in his hold, he moves his tongue up and down from your clit to your entrance again and again until the darkness turns into tiny stars. Finding comfort at your sensitive nub, he swirls his tongue around and around when a loud cry emits from you.

”F-FUCKKKK!!!!!!” 

You twist and try to get away from him when your orgasm takes you out like a freight train. Body quaking more liquid pours from you entering his mouth and onto the couch. Feeling like a fish out of water he uses all his strength to keep you onto the couch and not on the floor — still drinking you up as if he were dying of thirst. 

“I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” You repeat still feeling his tongue on you. “I can’t!” Your hands flail to his hands tapping them to get him to stop.

Mr. Suh smiles and pulls back giving you small kisses on your clit, your mound and your inner thigh — nipping the inside of your left thigh before finally pulling away from you. 

“I could stay here forever,” he laps up your juices from his lips and chin while you lower yourself back down to the couch. Peeking up at you he kisses your clit one last time, earning a moan from you. “You really do have a delicious pussy,” he gives another kiss to your inner thigh. “Are you still with me?”

Shaking your head you lay there exposed in front of him too exhausted to move. “No…”

Laughing, Mr. Suh sits himself up and goes back to where he was sitting prior to making you a lifeless fuck doll. Giving your leg a little tap he calls to you. “Baby,” you barely have enough energy to look at him to see his sweet smile. Insatiable demon tutor! “Come to me.”

Sitting up lethargically, you find Johnny stroking his cock preparing himself for you. Bottom lip between your teeth, you stare at the man in front of you. How a woman would leave him is beyond your wildest imagination. Crawling towards him like a zombie, he wraps an arm around you as you get settled on his lap.

“How do you still have energy?” You ask him, forehead resting on top of his.

Chuckling, he holds you close to him. “I didn’t come three times in a row.” He gives you a little peck.

”And whose fault is that?” You retort.

”Hmm, I think it was a rather handsome tutor who has been fighting the urge day in and day out from kissing a certain student of his. He’s the culprit! Damn him!” 

“You’re a weird guy aren’t you?” You giggle nuzzling your nose against his. “But are you sure about this?” You ask him. “Once we start there’s no going back.” You hover above his length. 

Shocked by your sudden question, he eyes you carefully. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

“No.” His arms wrap around you, making you feel safe and secure. “But I’m not the one who’s married,” you lean back enough to lick his lips before placing a kiss upon them.

“Is it still a marriage when one person hasn’t called, sent a text, shown up in the last two years?” He nips along your jawline.

“No. I wouldn’t call that a marriage at all.” Reaching between your legs you take hold of his length positioning him at your entrance.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers in your ear.

Slowly lowering yourself onto Mr. Suh’s cock the two of you hiss when your walls surround his length. Gripping your waist tightly he grits his teeth at the snug fit. 

“You’re so tight,” he clamps down on the side of your neck. “Fuck! So good!”

“N-No…” you gasp as you bottom out. “You’re just really big!”

Smirking against your skin, Johnny looks up at you. “Don’t move. Just sit here for a while,” he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I haven’t felt this good in two years,” he sighs contently.

“Wait…You haven’t been with another woman in two years?!”

“No. I always thought…” he goes quiet. “Silly, isn’t it?”

“Not silly,” you stroke his hair gently. “It’s just messed up what she did to you. I mean I wouldn’t leave someone as handsome as you. As sweet and kind as you. As patient as you’ve been with me and this tutoring business.” You start to giggle which draws his attention. “And not to make it all about your dick, but like hell I’d leave a man who’s as big as you.” With a gentle thrust he buries himself deeper inside of you. “Ahhh!!!” You moan. “N-Not cool, Mr. Suh,” you tease. 

“Not gonna lie, it’s been kind of hot to hear you call me Mr. Suh this whole time. Especially now when I’m buried inside of you,” he thrusts upward again. 

“Oh really?” Leaning down to his ear you whisper gently. “Mr. Suh, I want you to make me cum again,” you bite his ear gently. 

Holding onto your waist, Johnny keeps you steady as you start to use his dick to get yourself off. Grinding on top of him, your arms rest behind you, hands on his knees — back arching to feel him rub against you in such a tantalizing way, you start to go cross-eyed. He feels too good to stop or to slow down. His massive cock reaching parts of you no other person, man or woman, has ever reached before. 

“Shit!” You shout when you finally slow down.

Falling forward, one of your hands rests on the back of the couch, and Johnny uses the opportunity to grab your breasts massaging them while you bounce on his cock.

”Aaahhh…” you moan when he pinches your nipples, your hips jutting forward at the slight pain. 

“Come on baby, make yourself cum,” he leans forward wrapping his mouth around your nipple. 

“Fuck~~~” you hiss.

Your hips move faster than ever, your climax getting closer and closer with each swivel of your pelvis. 

“S-So close…” you cry out. 

Biting down on your nipple, Johnny swirls your erect bud within his mouth. Each time the tiniest bit of pain turns into pleasure and shoots to your core. Your body starts growing warmer as you gear up for another orgasm, but you need more, you want more. Tapping his arm he pulls back from your breast with a pop.

Without a second thought you turn yourself around on his lap, back facing him, you slide down onto his cock reveling in the feeling of being filled to the brim. His hands at your hips, you lean back till your face is next to his. Holding the side of your face he kisses you gently while stuffing his cock into your pussy. 

He pummels your pussy, your back arching, hips bouncing on top of him. Reaching around you, his other hand rubs over your clit making you pull away from him and cry out.

”Again! Please!!!!” 

One hand holding onto your neck, the other rubbing over your pulsing bundle of nerves, Mr. Suh pushes his cock deep into your soaking core. Wet squelching noises fill the room along with your moans. Completely bare to the world you fall into a deep trance of lust. 

As you're bouncing on top, Mr. Suh takes his hand and gives your swollen clit a little slap — a small action having you jut your hips forward, your body shivering with pleasure. The word again comes out of your mouth as if it were your mantra, he shoves you down onto his cock while he rubs over your pussy, but not before he gives it another little slap, this time, you let out a guttural scream of pleasure. 

“Ahhhhh…shit!!!!” 

With each thrust of his hips into you, you slide up his cock little by little only to drench his length, the couch, and floor with your juices. Legs shaking, he holds onto you with one hand, the other snaking between your legs — fingers entering inside of you, moving quickly until you release again onto the floor. 

“Fucking love this pussy,” Mr. Suh growls into your ear as he yanks you backdown onto his cock. 

Neither of you waste time as you bounce on top of him again. Still sensitive from before your moans grow louder. Each thrust hitting every nerve of your body just right. Your heart pounds in your ears, as Mr. Suh once again rubs over your sensitive clit. In no time you’re screaming out that you're coming yet again and soon your body pulls away from him as you squirt onto his floor. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he pulls you back down onto the couch.

Lifeless from the epitome of pleasure, he places you onto all fours while he gets behind you. Sliding into you, he grabs your hips and rams into you. 

Back arched, ass up in the air you cling onto the fabric of his couch — now soaked in your juices. Mr. Suh’s long thick cock drives into you, sparing you no mercy as your whimpers continue nonstop.

Wanting to feel him deeper inside of you, you start pushing yourself against him — ass flush against his hips.

“More…more…” you cry out.

Possessed by your own lust for him, you start bouncing on his lap — pussy gulping him down inch by inch. Mr. Suh’s groans getting drowned out by your desperation. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yell each time your hips meet his. 

Hunched over you, he digs his nails into your flesh as he pushes into you harder balls slapping against you. It wasn’t long until your eyes clench shut and your body starts to tremble. Moving faster Mr. Suh pushes you to lose your senses once more. 

“I-I-I’m coming!” You scream. 

Shoving his cock into you a few more times Mr. Suh pulls out just as you explode, your squirt pouring down onto your legs. Cupping your core, he eases you back down from your high while simultaneously driving you over the edge. 

“Lay down for me, okay?” He asks, kissing your cheek. 

Crawling onto the couch you flop down onto your back, arms and legs feeling like anchors on your body. Chuckling, he hovers over you, hiking one of your legs up to give him more room to move. Dazed you run your hands down his chest feeling the muscles of his body. Biting your lip, you try to keep yourself from coming undone just by the look and feel of him. 

“You’re so beautiful right now,” he smiles, bending down to give you a quick kiss on the lips while he teases your entrance. 

“S-Sure I am,” a shiver comes over you, your hips already moving against the tip of his cock. 

“Trust me, if only you could see how beautiful you look right now,” he rubs the tip of his cock over your swollen pulsing bud before sliding into you. 

Eyes closed you relish in the feeling of Mr. Suh being inside of you. All those days and weeks wanting to know what it was like could never paint a good picture of what it truly was like to be filled by the man above you. The roll of his hips as he goes deeper inside of you. The soft yet powerful thrusts, his body getting dangerously close to yours — trapping you beneath him, somehow getting squished under this man doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

How he grips your body tightly, nails sinking into your skin causing just the right amount of pain to push you closer to your breaking point. Opening your eyes, you gasp seeing the sight above you. Mr. Suh’s hair drenched in sweat, his body glistening in the light of his lamps. Eyes dark and yet so full of… admiration, you can’t help but pull him down closer to you. Wanting nothing more than your bodies to be connected to each other. 

“I don’t want to squish you,” he chuckles in your ear. 

“Do it, I don’t care.” You wrap your legs just above his pelvis. “Crush me into this couch while you fuck me!” 

Grunting, Mr. Suh slams his hips into yours so hard you see nothing but black for a second. “Shit!” You screech holding onto him for dear life. 

Just like you asked, he doesn’t hold back anymore. His body lowering onto you completely, his hips grinding into yours fast and hard you’re shocked you haven’t been split in half already. Nails sliding down his back, he picks up his pace signaling he’s close. Hands going up to his hair, you grip the ends tightly begging for him to use you. 

“Fuck. That. Pussy!” You growl in his ears. “Shit! I love your dick so much,” you bite down on his ear. 

Like some kind of primal creature, Mr. Suh growls and moves his hips faster and deeper — crushing you into the couch, not caring at all whether or not he’s hurting you. The only thing he’s chasing is the high he's made you feel time and time again this afternoon. 

His breathing becomes ragged as do his thrusts and just as he pulls out of you, that powerful wave of euphoria washes over you. Pumping himself in his hand, Mr. Suh throws his head back as he cums — white strands landing on top of your clit and mound. 

“Sh-Shit!” He growls, his hand moving up and down his length quickly not stopping until he’s painted your pussy in every last drop of his cum. “Fuck~~” he exhales deeply, his body sinking back onto his knees. 

With his length still in his hand he leans forward rubbing the tip of his cock over your clit. You yelp, almost pulling away when suddenly your body starts to become hot. Your breathing quickens and before you know it, you scream as another wave of satisfaction makes you crumble beneath him. 

“F-F-Fuck!!!” He smirks, still rubbing over your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-Okay… okay…” you hold out your hands, body jerking and shaking. “I really can’t… no more, no more…” you cry out and giggle.

Pulling away from you, Mr. Suh takes a breather before tapping your legs that are sprawled out, a picture perfect view of your cum soaked core in front of him. Sitting up he opens his arms for you. Getting up to your hands and knees you crawl over to him only to melt in his arms and lap. 

“That was…” he starts a goofy smile on his face. 

“DAMN YOU!” You hit his chest playfully. “Now I won’t be able to have sex with anyone else.” 

Laughing, Mr. Suh wraps you tightly in his arms kissing the top of your head. “Good,” he pulls back far enough to see your face. “Because I’m far from done with you. I still haven’t punished you,” he squints.

”EHHH?!!!” 

A loud giggle and the slam of a door startles both you and Mr. Suh. Leaping up from the couch and his arms you scramble to get your clothes and throw him his. Both of you heading back to his study, you giggle as you both give each other sneaky touches that if it wasn’t for Lily coming home it would sure start up another round. 

Stepping into your pants and throwing on your bra and shirt, Mr. Suh has since put on his jeans and shirt and is trying to help you as best as he can. Grabbing your hand he pulls you out of his study, down the hall and heads straight for the kitchen. Taking out your binder you pretend that you have been working on your homework and studying when the door opens — just as Mr. Suh sits down next to you. 

”Daddy! Daddy!” 

“In the kitchen sweetheart,” he shouts, his chest heaving. 

Lily comes running into the kitchen with a huge stuffed animal in her tiny arms. “Daddy, look!” She holds out a tiger cub. “Isn’t she cute?!” 

“She’s adorable! Did you give her a name?”

”Kimmie!” 

“That’s a wonderful name,” Mr. Suh strokes her hair. “Is Uncle Jaehyun with you?”

”I’m here,” he saunters into the kitchen, more leisurely looking than what you’re used to. His hair isn’t slicked back neatly, but resting gently around his eyes. Though he still looks put together, a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans, on him — he’s just like a model from a clothing ad. 

“Uncle Jaehyun won it for me!” She jumps and down with the tiger in her arms. 

“Did he?” Mr. Suh smirks. “How long did it take you?”

”Too long…” he groans. “By the way what’s up with the huge wet mess on the couch?” 

Going stiff beside Mr. Suh you try to act normal. You try not to act like you’re the cause of the massive puddle that is slowly soaking into his furniture. Let alone, the floor which Mr. Jeong most likely saw as well. 

“We had to come into the kitchen after spilling some white wine on the couch. It was my fault. I tripped,” Mr. Suh laughs, scratching the back of his neck.

”And you just left the puddle of wine on the floor?” Mr. Jeong crosses his arms, his eyes going from Mr. Suh, to you. 

“I was just about to clean it up when you guys walked in,” he says with an eerie perkiness. “Lily, sweetheart, why don’t you go and put Kimmy upstairs with your other stuffed animals. Your uncle and I need to talk.”

”Okay daddy,” she hops over to Mr. Jeong and he instantly picks her up and gives her a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the arcade Uncle Jeong.”

”You’re welcome,” he gives her one last kiss and she skips off to her bedroom.

The kitchen is quiet until Mr. Jeong hears footsteps above his head. Most likely Lily heading to her room. When the footsteps start to disappear, he stares accusingly at both Mr. Suh and yourself.

”What the hell is going on?” 

Getting up from the table, Mr. Suh heads towards a counter far off from where you’re seated and grabs a couple paper towels. Sinking in your seat you stay there before jumping up. 

“I-I can do that Mr. Suh! Plus, Mr. Jeong wanted to talk to you.”

”Seriously, Mr. Jeong? We’re not in class anymore, it’s Jaehyun.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Jaehyun.” You rush over and grab the paper towels and head for the mess you made before anyone could say anything else. 

Taking a peek at the mess Mr… Jaehyun mentioned, you cringe at the face he most likely made. He’s a smart man, there's no way he didn’t think up some kind of weird scenario in his head of what could have happened. And as much as Mr. Suh tried to cover it up, there is no way he’s going to believe that happened at all. 

Getting on your hands and knees you start to wipe up the puddles of your squirt you made on the floor. It wasn’t as much as you thought, most of it on the couch which you’ll have to fork over some of your shopping money to pay for a deep cleaning or a new couch for Mr. Suh. Your head hangs low as all of the different items you wanted to buy slowly become a wish instead of a dream. 

‘What’s your problem? I told you nothing happened!’ Mr.Suh’s voice travels into the living room. ‘Are you serious? That’s what you’re upset about?’ 

Sitting up you lean back trying to see what’s going on in there, but sadly there is no clear view into the kitchen from the living room. 

‘I told you that in confidence and you go behind my back?!’ Jaehyun shouts. ‘What kind of friend does that?’

Mr. Suh went behind his back? You start scooting closer and closer to the kitchen, still within the vicinity of your mess, but much closer to hear what’s really being said. 

‘Have you talked to her at all? Did you even ask her if she likes you? If you’re even her type?’

‘That isn’t what we’re discussing here!’ Jaehyun mumbles. ‘We’re discussing the obvious mess out in the living room!’ 

‘What are you trying to imply?’

Your body has now pressed itself onto the wall, heart pounding as Jaehyun’s voice becomes but a mere whisper… ‘you fucked her didn’t you?’ Waiting for Mr. Suh’s response, your arm that was wiping up your slick off the floor is now wiping a nonexistent mess in the air — your mind far too invested in the conversation both your… teachers are having in the other room. 

‘Why would you think that?’ Mr. Suh replies, his voice steady.

‘THERE IS A FUCKING MESS OUT IN THE LIVING ROOM! Do you think I buy that bullshit about spilling white wine?’

‘Why would you automatically go to sex? Why isn’t it believable that we both sat down for a glass of wine and it spilled?’

‘Where are the glasses? Where is the bottle? Hmmm?’

Mr. Suh doesn’t say a single word. Jaehyun was right, there is absolutely no way that Johnny can get out of this one. Not even you can think of an excuse that would be good enough to use. 

‘Please just tell me you didn’t fuck her… not after I confessed I had feelings for her. Please tell me you didn’t do it, please.’

Your eyes widen at Mr. Jeong’s words. He has a crush on… you shake your head. That can’t be, he’s your teacher! There’s no way in hell he could like you! Even if he did, there's no way that you can date him, it’s unethical! Not to mention…you take the risk and peek around the corner to see both Mr. Jeong and Mr. Suh sitting down at the kitchen table — Mr. Jeong waiting, pleading for Mr. Suh to answer him. 

‘I’m sorry, Jaehyun.’

Jumping up from his chair, Mr. Jeong knocks it over and it crashes to the floor making you jump. ‘Are you fucking kidding me, man? What is wrong with you? I would never do that to you! So why?’ He slams his hands down on the table, ‘why?!’ He shouts.

‘She doesn’t belong to you, Jaehyun. She has choices that she can make on her own. It wasn’t planned and I wasn’t plotting against you. It just… happened,’ he sighs. ‘I don’t regret it, all I regret is that you’re upset with me.’

‘It just happened? Is that what you’re going for? Shit man! I told you once she wasn’t my student anymore I was going to ask her out! What is your —

“I would have said no.” You storm into the kitchen. 

Spinning towards you, Mr. Jeong’s shoulders fall from his ears. “You were listening?”

“You weren’t exactly being quiet.” You take the wet paper towels and put them in the trash. “No matter if you asked me the moment I passed your class or a year from now I would have said no. It would be unethical for you to date a student, a former one at that when they’re still actively going to school where you work.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mr. Suh chuckles. 

“Shut up!” Both Mr. Jeong and yourself say in unison. 

“It was never going to be you, Mr… Jaehyun. I hope you understand. If I led you on in any way I apologize, it was never my —”

He holds up a hand. “You didn’t lead me on, ever. These feelings are mine alone.”

“Where does that leave us?” Mr. Suh stands and walks over to you. “Would you be against us, if we…” he looks down at you. 

“If we become a couple?” You finish his statement. 

Running a hand through his hair Jaehyun shakes his head. “There is one thing standing in your way, pal. You’re still married. What if she comes back? Are you going to drop everything and go back to her?”

Shit… You glance up at Mr. Suh. There is no way he will choose you over his wife, not the woman he’s stayed abstinent for…until now and certainly not the mother of his child. He’d always choose…

“I never plan to leave. I waited for two years. My life has been on hold for two years, I’m not going to let anyone make it stop again. I’ll file for divorce immediately and ask her parents to give her the papers. I should have done this already.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “It’s about time I find someone who makes me happy.”

The room goes silent once more as you wait for Jaehyun to give his blessings or walk out. His eyes roam over yours, but when he turns away the tiniest bit of a smile comes to his lips and you know that everything is going to be fine.

“Damn bro, I’m not her dad.” He chuckles.

“No, you’re just the guy who wanted to fuck me too.” You smile brightly. 

“HEY!” Jaehyun shouts. “I wanted to at least take you out on a few dates first,” he clarifies, a boyish grin across his face.  “But unlike this guy over here,” he gestures to Johnny. “I would have put out some towels first.”

“Really? Jokes already?” Mr. Suh rolls his eyes.

Shrugging he walks out of the kitchen and to the door, both you and Mr. Suh following behind. “Your girlfriend started it. Now just because you’re dating my best friend don’t you dare think for a second I won’t fail your ass!” He warns opening up the door. “You’ve worked this hard don’t throw it away from some —”

”And he’s leaving,” Mr. Suh shoves Jaehyun through the frame of the door. 

“See you at school Mr. Jeong!” You wave goodbye. 

Smirking, he gives you a small wave before leaving. “I expect high marks on your final. Don’t disappoint me.” 

The next couple of weeks were rough. Every day you were grilled from the moment you arrived at Mr. Suh’s house to the moment you packed up to go home for your final exam. It didn’t matter that Mr. Suh fucked you stupid or that you squirted all over his couch and his floor, the couch needing a deep cleaning — even then you still offered to pitch in to get him a new one, but he waved off the offer. The choking, biting, blowjob, everything didn’t matter in his eyes. The only thing that mattered was you would pass Mr. Jeong’s course. 

So you studied. You ignored every throb and clench of your clit and entrance when he would lean in close to you. You swallowed down the urge to climb onto his lap at the kitchen table and have him fuck you while you answered any and all math questions he threw your way. You ignored everything that your body wanted because you too wanted to pass Mr. Jeong’s class. 

What you didn’t expect are your legs shaking non stop while you wait for your final exam grade. The year prior you went into your classroom, took the final exam and left — finding out later what your grade was, but not in Mr. Jeong’s class. This time you needed to meet up at the computer lab because your exam was online, your grade being tallied immediately after you finished, or so you thought. 

You didn’t calculate that all of your other classmates were taking the same test, at the same time and were finishing up around the same time as you. A few people sat back and stared into space, others laid their head down until whenever they felt an appropriate amount of time passed. But you just stared at your computer screen until your eyes started to cross. 

Peeking above your screen to where Mr. Jeong sat at the main desk in the room, reading a book, your eyes met his as he scanned the room. He didn’t say anything but raised his brow. Lowering back into your seat you hear a ding startling not just you but other classmates as one by one your grades are shown. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Hands grip your shoulders from behind making you shout and quickly cover your mouth. 

“I’d like to speak with you after class about your grade.” Mr. Jeong whispers. 

“Uh, yes, Mr. Jeong.”

Sighing, you shake your head when he walks away checking in on other students who were still taking their exams. 

Twenty minutes pass and your math final exam is over and done with. The only other class you needed to complete was a Special Education course in which you just had to turn in your observations from shadowing a teacher for a week as well as write an essay. That class, you’d actually miss, but Mr. Jeong’s… it will be a blessing if you never step foot in this room with him again! 

The last couple of people pack up their things and leave the room. Mr. Jeong erases the white board before turning your way, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Would you please come up front so we can talk?”

Gathering your backpack you walk up to the front of the classroom, a chair already near the main desk waiting for you, spectacular. 

“So, how bad is it?” You ask plopping down on the seat. “Give it to me straight, no sugar coating Mr. Jeong.” 

“Jaehyun.” He corrects you.

”Still on campus, Mr. Jeong.”

Chuckling, he leans on the desk next to you. “Yeah, but I’m no longer going to be your teacher. So the formalities can drop when we see each other in private.”

”It doesn’t matter if you’re going to be my teacher or no —” you cut yourself off realization coming to you. “Wait… you’re not going to be my teacher anymore?”

Shaking his head, Mr. Jeong smiles. “Nope.”

“Does that mean…?”

Nodding, he takes a slip of paper from the desk and writes down your new final grade. “You have passed this class with a C-.” 

“A C-?” Your eyes go from amazed to grumpy. “I thought it would have at least been a C+ borderline B…” you grumbled.

Taking one of his folders he hits you on the head with it. “Do you not know how shitty your grades were before Johnny started to help you? I’m amazed you even had a passing grade. You did well and I seriously owe Johnny a huge favor.” He snickers. “Or maybe you can just do him a favor,” he wiggles his brows. 

“Mr. Jeong, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to talk about your students' love life at all.”

”Damn… nothing?” He asks. Shaking your head no, he eyes you up and down. “How does that even happen? From the mess you made I would have assumed the two of you would fuck each other’s brains out every time you’re together.” He clicks his tongue. “Still hate that I sent you to him.”

Laughing, you stand up. “Like I said, Mr. Jeong, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.” You bend down to meet him eye to eye. “Plus, I would mess up your apartment.”

Leaning forward his face inches from your own, “leather couch and that faux wooden flooring. Perfect at preventing scuff marks and for spills of all kinds.” 

Reaching up you ruffle his hair, mess it all up and walk away. “See you around, Jaehyun.”

”You better work your ass off tonight and show him how thankful you are!” 

“Sure thing!” You wave, but when you reach for the doorknob you pause. “Jaehyun,” your voice goes soft. 

“Yeah?” He stands from the desk gathering his belongings. 

“Thanks for the help you gave me too. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have gotten the help I needed. You didn’t need to do that. I mean you guys already have our money. Whether we fail or not… that’s up to us. But you didn’t want me to fail and I didn’t want to fail either. This passing grade goes to you as well. Please never stop helping your students.”

”My place, ask Johnny for directions and you can show me how much I helped you,” he gives you an almost similar smirk that Mr. Suh gave you, must be something they both learned. He bumps your shoulder as you both stand in front of the door. “But seriously, it’s no problem at all. It would look terrible on my record if too many students failed my class,” he places his hand over yours and makes you turn the doorknob. 

“You can repay me by not breaking his heart. I can’t watch him fall apart again.”

”I would never hurt him, Jaehyun. Honest. Even if we do end up breaking up if he ever needed me…”

Pushing you out the door with his hands he closes the door behind you two. “Good. He’s a great guy and he loves hard. It’s never a game with him. If you need to go slow and take your time, which I suggest,” you both walk down the hall to the elevator. “Please just make sure that he’s never kept in the dark with your feelings. It’s not my place to say any of this, but honestly, what his soon to be ex-wife did to him… it was pretty bad.”

”I’m still trying to wrap my head around a mother leaving her child for two years without contact.”

”There are things that even Johnny and I don’t understand.”

”Jaehyun, do you think if she ever comes back Mr. Suh… Johnny will go to her without a second thought about me?” You ask, stepping into the elevator, thank heavens for it being empty aside from Jaehyun and yourself.

“I can’t say for certain if he would or would not.” He pushes the button for the first floor. “They were in love from the moment they saw each other. It was back when we were freshmen in college. Everyone on campus knew them as the “it” couple. He was in a fraternity and she was in a sorority. He played sports and she loved anything to do with the arts. 

“On the outside they may seem different but when you saw them together,” the elevator doors open and you both step out heading for the main doors of the building. “It was as if they were supposed to be together. Two souls that searched the heavens and earth to be together. I’m not saying this to scare you off,” he opens one of the doors and allows you to step out into the crisp winter air. 

“I know.” You whisper.

”All you need to know is that something happened. Whatever that something was, I don’t know and neither does Johnny. He’s tried to reach out to her friends and family but all they’ve said is that they can’t talk.”

”Could it have been something he did? Something he doesn’t know?”

Shrugging, Jaehyun wraps his navy blue scarf around his neck, putting his hands into his coat pockets. “It could be, but if he did do something he doesn’t know what he did.” 

“It still doesn’t excuse the fact that if he did something to make her mad — she refused to speak or even acknowledge her own child for two years.”

”Which is why I’m happy you came along. I genuinely never heard or seen him as happy as he is with you for quite some time — more than two years in fact. Speaking of happiness, let's get away from this dreary subject. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

”I was going to go over to Mr. Suh’s house and hang out before meeting some friends for a girl’s night. A small get together before the winter break.”

”And you’re going back home this winter?”

Stopping in your tracks you look up at Jaehyun realizing that you never once discussed winter plans with Mr. Suh or your family. In fact, you were so busy studying you never asked him if you guys were official. If he and Lily would like to come over during the break. Would it be too early for them to meet your family?!

”Uhhhh…” your eyes start to shake. 

“Calm down,” Jaehyun pats your shoulder. “Johnny and Lily visit his parents during Christmas. So there, now you don’t have to freak out.”

”Jackass…” you grumble before walking away from him.

”My suggestion,” he says, jogging up to you. “Spend New Year’s with him. He’s always at home with Lily.”

”I’ll bring everything up with him when I see him.” You reassure. 

“Sure you will,” he claps you on the back before moving away from you. “I’m parked this way. Make sure you celebrate! It was nice having you in class.” He waves while heading in the direction of his car. 

“Thanks for everything, Mr. Jeong!” You shout smirking as you go back to addressing him formally. 

Giving you a gritted teeth smile he shouts, “your welcome!”

It wasn’t until your normally scheduled time that you head over to Mr. Suh’s. Primary and secondary schools didn’t get to go on Winter break for two more weeks, while you were free to come and go as you pleased. However, living two hours away from the University wasn’t ideal for meeting up to see Mr. Suh and even see Lily. 

You needed to talk to him about what you were going to do going forward. Now that he’s no longer your tutor, you won’t need him (hopefully) while you finish out your years in school; so knowing where you two stand needs to be a topic for discussion. 

Pulling onto Mr. Suh’s street, your hands start to grow clammy. You made sure to tell him as well as Jaehyun that you wanted to be the one to say what your final grade is. No secret text messages between the two of them. Face to face is what you wanted, whether you passed or failed. 

Now a few houses from Mr. Suh’s you sit up in the driver’s seat to find his car is parked in the driveway. A huge smile coming to your face, but the smile soon fades. Not only was his car in the driveway, but an unknown car is parked next to him. Slowly, you park where you normally do at the end of the driveway and you put your car in park. 

Taking out your phone you shoot him a quick message: 

I’m outside. 

There’s another car in your driveway. 

Is it safe to come inside?

You wait for a reply back, but nothing. He doesn’t even look at it. Thinking it’s best to wait for a little longer, you scroll through some of the text messages and social media posts to pass the time until he hopefully answers back, but he never does. 

The chill of the evening starts to creep around you, making you hug your body. It wouldn’t be rude to at least ring the doorbell and make sure that it’s either safe to come inside despite him having a guest or that you need to go back to your dorm, right? 

Shaking your head, you grab your purse, phone and keys. You can’t just wait until the person inside leaves, or for Mr. Suh to pick up his phone to read the message — you’d become a human popsicle by then. Closing your car door you hesitantly make your way up the pathway to his front door. Your mind racing with a million thoughts of how this was both okay to do and rude. 

But for all you know it could be a friend of his over for a quick visit before leaving, just like you. With this thought in mind you ring the doorbell and give the door a light knock. Stepping back you wait patiently for the door to open. It doesn’t take long for Mr. Suh to come to the door but instead of greeting you, he scrambles out of the door, closing it behind him.

”You can’t be here right now,” he whispers. “You need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow and you can come over.”

”I’m leaving tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you about that actually. Is someone inside?”

”Yes, but really you need to —”

”Sweetheart, what’s going on?” A female’s voice calls from the front door. “Who’s out there?” 

“For the love of…” he growls. “Look, you need to go. We’ll talk after you come back from your break. But please, let me explain everything!” He turns you around to your car.

”Johnny what is going on? Who is she?” The woman’s voice sounds closer than before. Looking back you see a rather beautiful woman standing behind him. Her arms crossed over her chest, hip jutted out and eyes bouncing from you to Johnny. “Who is she?”

Stepping around Mr. Suh you walk up to her with a huge smile on your face. “Hi, I’m Mr. Suh’s student. He’s been tutoring me this semester. I just came by to tell him I passed.” Your smile falters as you turn to face him.

”Y-You did?” He searches your eyes for anything that will let him know you’re not mad at him. “That’s wonderful news.”

you were already his — and he was yours — in every wordless way that mattered.

so when his fingers had curled around yours after dinner, tugging you gently into his bedroom without saying a word, you didn’t question it. you never could, not when he looked at you like that : soft and full of something you didn’t quite have a name for, but felt deep in your bones.

he sat on the edge of the bed while you stood between his knees, your thighs brushing the outsides of his, his hands exploring in slow, patient movements — under your shirt, across your waist, thumbs skimming the waistband of your sweats like he was drawing a map of you in his mind.

jaehyun didn’t rush. he never rushed. not with you.

you leaned down and kissed him — not deep, not eager, just slow. mouths barely parting. it was the kind of kiss that just felt like breathing, like leaning into warmth. you felt the subtle flex of his fingers on your hips, the way he exhaled softly through his nose when your lips skimmed the corner of his mouth. that made him weak — you could tell, and it made your heart ache with affection.

“can i ask you, hum… something?” he murmured, barely breaking the kiss, his lips brushing yours with each word.

“mmh?” your forehead stayed pressed to his.

his thumbs rubbed slow circles into the bare skin just above your waistband — he was not pushing, not teasing either, just… grounding you.

“i’ve been thinking about something,” he said, eyes flicking up.

you pulled back just a bit, enough to see the shift in his face — open, but careful. that look he gave you when he was being vulnerable. when he wanted something and wasn’t sure how you’d take it. that look alone made your stomach flutter.

“yeah?” you asked gently.

“i kinda wanna try cockwarming.”

you blinked.

your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. your throat went tight, and your heart slammed once — hard enough you could feel it in your teeth. his words didn’t even fully register at first, like your brain had hit a glitch trying to process them.

jaehyun smiled softly, thumb still tracing your skin. “you okay, baby?”

“i…” you swallowed, your eyes flicking down to his chest like you couldn’t look at him for a second. “you want me to… sit on it?”

“that’s the general idea,” he said, smiling a little more, voice still so soft. he laughed gently when your face went warm — not teasing, just fond. “but only if you want to.”

you choked a little — or whatever the hell that thing in your throat was — because your whole body had gone tight. not out of fear. just that visceral hit of nerves and want colliding in your chest like a wave.

you tried to speak, failed, cleared your throat, and tried again. “y–yeah. i want to. just… wasn’t expecting that.”

“i know,” he said, and his hands moved slowly up your sides, like he was reading you. “i’ll be really soft with you.” his voice dropped a note, not dirty — not even close — but reverent, like he was giving you a promise.

it went straight through you.

“i just want to feel you,” he said, breath brushing your jaw. “no rush. just… stay inside you.”

you didn’t even realize your fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt until he tilted his head and pressed a slow kiss to your jaw, like he could taste the way your pulse jumped there.

“okay,” you whispered, breath catching.

“yeah?”

you nodded.

his hand found yours again, his fingers lacing with yours like they always did when he needed you to stay close.

“come here, baby.”

the clothes came off slow — peeled away like they had all the time in the universe. his hands skimmed up your back when he took your shirt off, brushing his fingers down your spine as if he couldn’t bear to lose contact. your pants were pushed past your thighs with quiet exhales and shy glances, every bit of skin uncovered only making the air feel heavier between you.

he laid you back on the bed for a moment, not even to do anything — just to look at you, to lean over and kiss down your chest, his mouth tracing every line of you with quiet awe. he kissed your stomach, the soft part just below your navel, his hand warm against your side while the other held the lube.

then he settled behind you, letting you lean back into him while he slicked his fingers and started prepping you — slow, warm, so careful. every movement was met with a whisper at your ear.

“you’re doing so good,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, lips brushing the side of your face. “opening up so easy for me, honey. like your body already knows what it wants.”

you groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. his fingers moved deeper, coaxing you open, the stretch manageable only because he gave you so much time. his free hand stroked along your waist, grounding you with every soft word and every warm breath.

by the time you were ready, he was sitting back against the headboard again, legs spread just enough, his dick flushed and slick in his hand. you watched him stroke it slow while you moved into his lap, watched the way his breath caught just slightly when you just touched his shoulders for balance.

everything slowed down.

your knees pressed to the mattress on either side of his hips. you hovered just a little, hands on his shoulders, letting him guide you by the waist as you lined yourself up his dick.

the tip nudged against you, and—

the stretch made your breath hitch immediately. your fingers clenched on his shoulders like you needed to anchor yourself really bad, your thighs trembling with the effort to stay in control.

“you okay my love?” he asked, eyes locked on your face. you nodded shakily.

“y–yeah. just… oh my god.”

jaehyun smiled, smoothing one hand slowly up your spine. “take your time, baby. don’t rush. i’ve got you.”

so you did. you took your time — letting yourself sink down inch by inch, breathing hard, feeling your body slowly adjust around him. it was intense — the pressure, the heat, the way he filled you without even moving. his hands never left you, stroking your waist, brushing the backs of your thighs, eyes never leaving your face.

and when you finally settled all the way down, seated flush in his lap, his dick buried deep inside you… everything went still.

your chest was pressed to his. you could feel the way your own heart pounded against his, the subtle shudder in your limbs, your fingers trembling where they clutched his shoulders. he wrapped his arms around you like he was holding something fragile, his face burying into your neck as he let out a low, shaky breath.

“fuck,” he whispered. “you feel… so warm. my pretty baby. so perfect.”

you didn’t move. honestly, you couldn’t. he filled you so completely, so deeply, you could feel the whole shape of him pressing against the most tender parts of you. the weight of him inside was overwhelming — not in a painful way, but in that too-much-and-still-not-enough way that made your head feel like it was floating.

every twitch of him inside you made your body respond — tightening involuntarily, fluttering around him in little pulses. even the smallest shift in your position sent a slow, pulsing wave up your spine, making your chest rise sharply against his.

and yet… the stillness was a high all its own. the way nothing moved. the way your body and his body simply existed together, locked in this quiet, molten closeness.

jaehyun’s mouth moved against your skin — soft kisses along your shoulder, your neck, the edge of your jaw. he didn’t press for more, didn’t chase the rhythm most people would. he kissed you like worship, like gratitude. like touching you like this was more than enough.

“god, you feel so good,” he breathed at your ear, his voice cracking faintly at the edges. “so fucking warm… so tight around me, baby. i could stay like this forever.”

your whole body flushed at the confession. you clenched down on him — just slightly, unintentionally — and the way he groaned in response made your eyes flutter shut. his forehead dropped to your collarbone, breath stuttering against your skin.

“shit…” he murmured. “you can’t do that, baby. i’m trying to behave.”

you laughed — breathless, warm — and your hands came up to cup his face. his skin was hot under your palms. your thumbs brushed over the apple of his cheeks, which were flushed high with pink. his lips were swollen from kissing, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

he looked… completely gone.

like he was drunk on you.

“you’re really not gonna move?” you asked, voice barely steady, teasing him enough to make him smile again.

“not unless you do first.”

his hands slid over your thighs — warm, gentle, almost reverent — before settling again at your lower back. the pressure was soft but firm, grounding. his touch felt like a tether, like it was holding you right there, keeping you full and safe and still.

you rested your forehead to his and just breathed.

and with every second you stayed like that, your nerves slowly began to quiet — like the rest of the world was fading out. all that was left was the fullness, the heat of him inside you, the solid weight of his body beneath your hands. every throb of his dick, every tiny twitch, sent ripples of sensation through you. your muscles clenched without thought, your body pulsing around him in soft, slow waves.

jaehyun leaned in and kissed you again — soft, unrushed. his lips moved against yours like the world was paused just for you two. then he pulled back just far enough to see your face again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “you know that?”

your throat tightened at the sound of his voice — like it cracked open something inside you that you weren’t ready for.

“jaehyun…”

“you are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “the way you look at me… the way you feel around me. my pretty boy, you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

the ache in your chest bloomed at those words, too full to hold. you kissed him before he could say more — a deeper kiss this time, one that felt desperate not from lust but from emotion. from the sheer weight of everything he was giving you just by being here like this.

minutes passed in a haze of soft touches and slower breaths. neither of you spoke. you didn’t need to.

you let your bodies say everything else — in the warmth of your mouths, in the quiet slide of your fingers up his arms, in the way your bodies fit together without friction, without force.

eventually, you shifted in his lap — just the barest rock of your hips. not a thrust, not even a grind, just enough to feel him move inside you. and jaehyun moaned — loud and raw, like he hadn’t expected it.

“oh my god…”

you froze — startled — and then let out a soft laugh against his mouth.

“sensitive?” you teased, your voice breathy with affection.

he glared up at you with playful exasperation, his hands tightening on your waist like he was restraining himself from snapping his hips up.

“baby, i’m trying to last, and you’re out here trying to kill me,” he muttered.

you laughed again — full and quiet — and then gasped as you moved just a little more, the slow drag of him inside you setting every nerve on fire.

jaehyun kissed you again — harder now, but not fast. his hands came up to cup your face like he couldn’t stop touching you, his lips sliding against yours, his tongue brushing soft and slow. you felt his hips twitch under you — once, restrained — like his body couldn’t help but react even when he was trying so hard not to.

“stay like that,” he whispered, breath trembling. “don’t move. just let me feel you, baby.”

you rested your head on his shoulder, breathing hard. your dick was fully hard now, pinned between your stomachs, leaking steadily onto his skin. the way your bodies were pressed together made the sensation almost unbearable.

“can i come like this?” you asked, voice soft, uncertain.

jaehyun moaned at the question, a loud moan, like just the thought undid him.

“yeah, baby,” he breathed, and one of his hands slid down between your bodies, wrapping carefully around your dick. “come just from sitting on me. let me feel it, yeah? let me have it.”

his hand moved slowly — steady, perfect strokes in sync with the pulse of his dick inside you. you were so full, so open, it was almost too much — but not in a way that made you want it to stop. in a way that made you want to live there, in that moment, forever.

you were shaking when it hit — a soft, beautiful, startled gasp leaving your mouth as you came, your body clenching around him so tightly that his breath caught hard in his chest.

“fuck— you’re so perfect,” jaehyun groaned, voice breaking. “so fucking perfect.”

you spilled between you, the heat of it spreading across both your bellies, and he held you through it — one hand stroking your back, the other cradling your jaw, pressing tender kisses to your temple, your cheek, like you’d just given him something really sacred.

after a beat, when your heart had slowed and your breath had steadied, you felt his hips shift, just once.

a shallow grind. a soft moan that sounded like a plea.

“baby,” he whispered, voice cracked and wrecked. “i need…”

you nodded, not even waiting for him to finish.

“okay,” you breathed, still trembling.

jaehyun thrust once — slow and so deep — and you felt his whole body shudder beneath you. he came with a gasp against your neck, arms wrapping tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him like he needed to feel every inch of you when he let go.

the warmth of him filled you, spilling deep, your body still fluttering around him with every soft aftershock.

you stayed like that — his dick still inside you, your chest pressed to his, his breath against your throat — for what could’ve been hours. long enough for his pulse to slow. long enough for your fingers to loosen from his shoulders. long enough for the world to feel quiet again.

neither of you spoke.

there was nothing to say, really. not when everything had already been said — in every whisper, every still breath, every soft praise pressed between kisses.

because this wasn’t about trying something new.

it was about knowing each other — and wanting to be known that way.

year one.

elementary school is where all the social groups are formed. the popular kids, the weirdos, the losers no one likes. where you start forming your special cliques and learning what’s okay to say and not okay to say out loud ( you learn that part the hard way ). you start implementing social norms, and wondering why the boys in your class are so gross.

you learn what crushes are, no matter how silly they were. there were only a select few that felt appropriate to crush on—and the most popular of the few in your class was jaemin. he was neat(er); organized. he didn’t spend his time scribbling his papers with gross drawings, and that, for the girls, was enough to fall in love.

everyone stuck to their own small groups, whispered nothings and giggles coming from one side as the other didn’t even bother to hush down.

boys will be boys is often a phrase you found stupid, because why is that an excuse for letting them ‘tease’ on how ugly you are? the kind of ugly that had them groaning drawn out ‘ew’s, every laugh in your ear and finger pointed in your face. where it felt like everyone was looking at you, noticing and scrutinizing for your deepest insecurities.

jaemin hadn’t stood up to them necessarily, but the power of words had always been bullets to the head. “they’re not ugly.” three simple words, spoken without a glance up, but it got the boys to hesitate.

those words repeated got them to back off, and a small glare had them giving up, heading off to the other side of the classroom. you looked up to meet his eyes. brown, hardened by the act of threat, before softening when reaching yours. inviting, friendly. the picture of kindness.

“hi.” 

a bright smile that reached his eyes. dark brown hair that barely covered the top of his eyes.

and for the rest of elementary, you were met with sharp glares, words muttered under breaths, because of the person standing next to you. na jaemin, always at your side. he never left after that. promised he never would. with that stupid grin that made you believe anything he said, that distracted you from reality. 

na jaemin. hiding behind that smile.

year two.

the entire concept of putting tweens and teenagers all in the same building is beyond you. while elementary school was playing around with friends you just made, middle school jumped up another level. 

different classes, puberty, growing up in the midst of getting good grades and keeping up your social status because at this point you’re insecure and affected by what people think of you.

jaemin was still as popular as ever, having collected a few more people to join you two in your shenanigans. you still got a few dirty looks here and there, and you shrunk in on yourself whenever you noticed them; only for a comforting hand to find yours. he had the same smile.

the few individuals jaemin had collected included people called: jeno, mark, haechan, and an upperclassman by the name of yuta that he had mentioned to you once. you didn’t meet yuta until a few years later.

jeno was quiet. regarded as cold and distant, but when you learned to read him, he just wasn’t one to talk often. concentrated. face stuck in a neutral expression until it broke when he smiled. you’re not quite sure how jaemin managed to snatch him.

mark and haechan came in a package deal ( more like that haechan clung onto mark ). you just knew them from the bickering, mark’s loud laugh, and haechan’s tendency to have chaos follow him.

all of them were pretty faces. popular — now that popular was an important word — desired. girls tripping over themselves and even guys trying their move. they mostly got ignored. not necessarily in a rude way, but in the awkward wish as to not be speaking another refusal. when asked, they all fumbled with a quick excuse.

and for some reason, no one pushed. consumed by the feeling of disappointment to be bothered.

haechan had been complaining about the fifth girl that came up to him in math, talking about how everyone gave the same spiel; consisting of how long they’d liked him, how pretty they think he is ( which did nothing to help his evergrowing ego ), and then the age old question: would you go out with me?

this was a typical conversation between the boys, comparing different ways they’ve been asked out. from stupid to thoughtful to unexpected. but it all ended the same. rejection. spurning. 

when in doubt, avoidance is the way to go.

mark was teasing him about it, jeno was barely paying attention after making a small comment that got spoken over. you and jaemin were studying together under the shade of a tree, leaves rustling over a small zephyr, small flowers scattered and blooming with the grace of spring.

he was listing questions, having you answer them.

it was almost a perfect day out. the grass was the green shown in movies, the sky blue. white, fluffy clouds floating along, the sun out but not sweltering. that perfect four pm air.

a stronger breeze circled through, ruffling leaves and flowers. you tugged your coat tighter around your shoulders, continuing the small back and forth with jaemin, until he looked up, noticed something, and a small laugh fell from his lips.

he made eye contact with you, reaching up and plucking a small petal from your hair before making you lean forward so he could brush out the rest of the ones that had fallen from the tree. “reminds me of your eyes,” jaemin hummed, holding up the white petal, earning a small tilt of the head from you. “pure; pretty.” 

your cheeks tinted red. and he flicked the petal back into your hair. that stupid grin.

year three.

bright lights and the squeaking of sneakers against gym floors were all you’ve ever wanted to hear. to say you weren’t a sports person wasn’t particularly right. you enjoyed sports. just at times, especially when the team is currently losing and they aren’t going to win, it wasn’t your favorite thing.

you were sat halfway up the bleachers, watching haechan freak out on the bench whenever the ref made a bad call — or any call actually ( you’re mostly sure he just played because mark dragged him to ).

jaemin was at your side, mumbling under his breath about stupid plays, which always amused you, how invested he’d get sometimes. granted, it wasn’t often. 

you were here for jeno, mark, and haechan. all who weren’t currently playing right now, which confused you, because previous games had shown you that they were the only ones on the team who knew how to play — except one of the lower classmen: chenle. who was the self proclaimed mvp of every game.

he played in every quarter, and mark had mentioned it before, chenle was going to take over as captain once mark left. and watching chenle, he deserved it. he was good.

a loud whistle pierced your thoughts, and you raised your head up slightly to look at what happened. people in the bleachers were yelling and booing at the referee, and jaemin was muttering under his breath as well, glaring. 

and when the referees made the call to give two free throws, a loud outburst was called from the students. you can say for sure you had no idea what was going on.

jaemin stood up abruptly, reached down to grab your forearm, before pulling you up as well with him. “let’s go,” he spoke, his voice a small grumble.

“go where?” you stumbled after jaemin, and catching up with his steps got him to release your arm.

“we’re losing anyway, no reason to hang out.” he shoved his hands into his pockets, earning a small giggle from you when you noted how invested he was. you poked his bicep, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

climbing down from the bleachers, you offered a wave to a confused mark who had noticed the two of you, before following jaemin out of the exit of the gym.

“you know we’re not allowed to roam the school,” you spoke up when jaemin started heading down the hallway ( not that you were going to argue any further ).

“technically.” he shot you a smile, knowing you’d follow anyway.

the school was quiet. it was odd to hear, after knowing it full of loud and annoying students. it was almost peaceful — a place you’d enjoy being if it was like this every time.

you trailed after jaemin, watching the halls like you hadn’t memorized them years before. you couldn’t believe you were leaving next year. everyone told you that it went too fast — that as soon as you’re in high school, those four years would pass in a blink of an eye.

it made your skin itch. you weren’t ready for it to go. to leave.

“hey, where are you?” jaemin’s words cut through your thoughts. “looks like you’re off on an adventure,” he grinned, reaching out to poke your forehead. and you swatted his hand away.

“just thinking.”

“about?” he prompted.

you paused in your step, fingers fidgeting with each other. jaemin paused with you, and you took in the sight of him. one hand resting lazily in his pocket, the other at his side. turned slightly to face you, curiosity creasing his brow slightly. jaemin was so pretty.

“what we’re going to do. in the future,” you finally answered, earning a face from jaemin.

“we have years to figure that out, no point in worrying about it now,” he spoke immediately, voice underlined with soft laughter, stepping over to you. “years,” he reiterated, “we’re gonna be fine.”

your shoulders lifted in a shrug. and jaemin’s hands raised to hold your face. “you overthink too much, petal,” he hummed, and the way you had to tilt your head up slightly had him fighting back a small smile.

there was a time when you were taller than him.

“relax,” jaemin said, leaning forward and pressing a short kiss to your forehead. you relished in the feeling, the comfort. “we have time,” he promised again, thumb brushing under your eye. 

everything jaemin said, you couldn’t help but believe him. he said it with such conviction. the kind of tone that comes from the steady beating of a heart. confident, because you believe it won’t stop. reliance, because it shouldn’t stop.

“i know.” your agreement was like letting out a breath you’d been holding for years. he was right, anyway. you had time. you had so much time.

year four.

high school, freshman year is when you met yuta. by this point, you’d heard his name scattered around. whispered in every rumor — he was in that group of boys. the poisoned youth, the kids your parents warned you about when you were younger. the type you’d get caught dead hanging around.

they were known for dyeing their hair every month, coming to school whenever they wanted. walking into class twenty minutes late just because they felt like it. sauntering around as if they owned the place — and with the way they acted with the staff, you might just think they do.

you saw jaemin chatting with them once. twice when waiting for him after class. and when he noticed you, he’d bid them goodbye as if nothing happened. but it bothered you. itched at the back of your neck when you saw it, wondering what they could be talking about.

“it’s nothing, petal,” jaemin answered smoothly when you asked. and you had no reason to doubt him.

“you’re just talking?” you responded, biting the inside of your cheek. “they’re not good people, jaem.”

his gaze flicked up to meet yours. brown. that glint in his eyes, fire, warmth, softened at the sight of you. “we were just talking,” he repeated, voice small in confirmation. and the silence stretched as you both looked at each other. he pressed his lips into a thin line.

but it was jaemin. he had no reason to lie. “okay.” and that was it. eyes bright, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. and you blinked, snapping yourself out of it. this was jaemin.

you hated that you had to remind yourself.

“jeno’s tagging along for lunch —” jaemin started, changing the conversation after a moment, only for the voice of haechan to rip through his words.

“take me with youuuu!” echoed as the older rushed over, mark trailing calmly after him. “i want food,” haechan groaned, mumbling something about how he hadn't eaten all day as he clung to jaemin’s arm, earning a laugh from the group as mark shook his head.

“you ate half my lunch,” mark gave him a small look, and haechan sent the look right back. 

“you offered.”

“not half of it.”

jaemin and you looked at each other, rolling your eyes at your friends. 

but the feeling lingered. and yuta nakamoto was a person you started looking out for. 

it wasn’t long until he noticed — oddly perceiving for what he seemed to be. you figured you weren’t hiding it well, however. lasting gazes, sharp eyes, and half glares weren’t that difficult to miss. and he started watching you back. 

you learned new names. lee taeyong. johnny suh. huang renjun. all giving you the same eerie feeling, especially when their gaze met yours, as if they’d already been watching. as if they were observing you. studying you. you felt like a bug in a jar. parts of you regretted showing your animosity towards them.

especially when you bumped into the infamous yuta after school one day. his hair dyed with patterns of brown and blond. hazardous grin decorating his features, a glint in his eye. as soon as you met his gaze, you knew he knew. knew that you were apprehensive about him. knew that you noticed him talking to jaemin.

“sorry,” he smoothly started off the conversation. “am i in your way?” yuta hummed, unbothered and obviously had no intentions to move. you nodded despite. he decided to just get to the point. “i’m not doing anything with jaemin.”

“then why talk to him?” you immediately shot back, somehow finding it in you to speak up. 

yuta almost seemed stunned at your words — or the fact that you talked back — staring at you for a moment. “am i not allowed to interact?”

“you wouldn’t without a motive,” you said, resisting the urge to bite your tongue in sudden frustration.

“you don’t know me.”

“i don’t,” you admitted shortly, devoid of any hesitance. still edgy, still nervous, but always wanting to protect jaemin, “but i know enough.”

yuta raised his eyebrows slightly, before exhaling out a laugh. not quite mocking, not quite teasing. a mix of surprise and judgement. “you can’t believe everything you hear,” he hummed smoothly, a smirk tainting his features.

he would’ve been attractive if it weren’t for the cigarettes often hanging from his mouth, the group of people he surrounded himself with. the dangerous sparkle in his gaze. and your eyes narrowed. “leave jaemin alone,” words firm, stance grounded.

“i will,” he agreed too easily to make you feel any better. “i can’t help it if he comes to me, however,” the older evoked, looking you up and down once before heading off.

a chill ran down your spine, and you shifted uncomfortably. yuta gave you every unsettling feeling you could ever name. his last words seemed almost like a threat.

now that you’ve pissed him off, you’re worried what he’ll send.

but yuta didn’t send anything, not for a while. he barely looked at you anymore ( neither did the rest of his posse ), and he kept his promise of not talking to jaemin anymore.

relief was your first instinct, but confusion was your second. it felt off — yuta keeping his word. you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. anxious tapping on your thigh when that group passed you in the hall, cursory glances around corners as if he’d jump out from somewhere. yuta was dangerous — at least that’s what people told you, but it wasn’t hard to swallow.

of course jaemin noticed your antsiness. he always paid too much attention.

his hand brushed the small of your back when you tensed up slightly at the sight of yuta. “something wrong?” he questioned, worry creasing his features.

you shook your head too fast. he didn’t say anything about it. “no — i‘m fine,” you mumbled, gaze flicking from where you last saw yuta, before forcing yourself to focus on jaemin as he paused in the hall. “just . . . nervous. test.” you added merely so he wouldn’t be concerned.

he hummed, sliding his hands into his pockets as he looked at you. a moment too long to be unsuspecting. “okay, petal.” smile. trust.

there was too much lying tainting this friendship. it felt wrong to lie to jaemin, but you followed him to class anyway; keeping quiet, words souring your tongue.

“c’mere,” he hummed, reaching over and tugging you closer by your shoulders, his touch warm and comforting. to curtail your worry that he knew you weren’t telling him about. he turned his head to look at you, squeezed your bicep slightly. 

you let out a breath.

year five.

it was your first high school party that you managed to get into. it was loud, bright. strobe lights centered in the living room, stereos blasting with a mix of music too diverse to name a genre. drinks in the kitchen, snacks thrown messily on the floor by the second hour, and bedrooms filled up with horny teens.

you moved your way through the house — practically being shoved by the crowd and you finally found a free space, eyes darting around desperately for jaemin. parties really were efficacious in making newcomers never want to come back. a hand skimmed your arm and you jumped, looking up to find jeno.

“where’s jaem?” he questioned immediately, one hand in his pocket, the other one dropped to his side as he glanced up over the heads of people. jeno had shot up in height this year. not extremely noticeable, but he walked into school one day and suddenly stuck out more.

“where’s mark?” you responded, answering with your question.

jeno raised his hand again to point out the older, looking helpless, surrounded by a number of girls. “escaped,” jeno mumbled, shrugging.

you nodded in understanding. and scanned the crowd. your eyes met jaemin’s. 

and always, always comforting. warm. like the peace of a sunset. the knowledge that the day is over and you can rest. a reassurance only jaemin could offer, easement that made your entire being lighten. 

“hi petal,” he breathed, reaching you after awkwardly pushing through the stream of people. 

“hi jaem,” you responded, tightness fading.

“drinks are in the kitchen,” he hummed with a small smile, and you finally registered the slight glaze covering his gaze. not enough to shadow them, but there. you peeked around him to notice yuta looking your way. expectant as he exited the kitchen.

you couldn’t say you expected to get out of this party alcohol free but yuta always made your skin itch. and you couldn’t help but think that he had something to do with this.

you looked away once jaemin’s hand landed on your forearm. “everything okay?” he questioned. you instinctively nodded, staring at yuta a moment longer before someone blocked your line of vision. you swallowed thickly.

and someone ran into your side. haechan, who almost spilled the drinks he had on you. he managed to hold them upright, before shoving one into your hands, and the other to jeno.

“should i ask?” jeno questioned, holding up the red cup to his face, examining it cautiously. you could never trust anything with haechan. he went around telling everyone he had his first drink of alcohol at ten ( which in all honesty wasn’t hard to believe — true or not ).

“take it back,” you mumbled, half groaning after catching a whiff of it, holding it out to haechan. he grinned, pushing your hand back to your chest.

“trust me,” shaking his head, he mimed tilting your head back and taking a sip.

“you’re insane,” you deadpanned, but the drink left your hands when jaemin took it from you and immediately tried it despite your worried protests.

jaemin let out a quick breath as he lowered the drink, took a moment to think about it, before nodding in satisfaction. haechan smirked smugly. “i know my stuff,” he raised his chin upwards slightly, relishing in all the praise he wasn’t getting. he was probably complimenting himself in his head as usual.

“just a sip, petal,” jaemin hummed, urging the cup to you, and when you shook your head, he thankfully let it go and took another drink with a small shrug. he quickly got whisked away by haechan — assumably for more drink concoctions — and you turned your head to look at jeno who was still swirling around the liquid in the cup.

“something’s up with jaem,” you mumbled, crossing your arms loosely, watching the two boys go and try to save mark on their way to the kitchen.

“yeah,” jeno agreed hesitantly, tracing your gaze.

you bit the inside of your cheek, before reaching out and taking the drink in jeno’s hands, bringing it up to your lips and taking a sip — albeit tentatively — before you could talk yourself out of it. 

the male beside you made some sort of strained sound that sounded like: ‘wait’, but the liquid was already making its way through your system, and soothing the churning in your stomach ( at the cost of fog in your mind ).

you exhaled slowly through your nose, before confidently going out into the crowd. you weren’t sure what haechan had put into the drink, but you definitely were sure that it worked quickly, because in the next hour your worries had dissipated and your concerns had hidden.

your arms were up, carelessly feeling the music, mixed in the crowd of sweaty bodies and shitfaced teenagers. and then an arm snuck around your waist, pulling you against a chest. jaemin’s voice whispered in your ear. “hey petal.” he smelled of alcohol, but you’re sure you did too.

his breath hit your neck. goosebumps ran over your arms. you stiffened slightly. 

and then a kiss behind your ear. “you look like you’re having fun.” his voice was lower than usual. deepened with something you couldn’t name. intoxication, maybe.

“do i?” you responded, voice shakier than you had intended it to be, and your drink sloshed over the sides of the cup when jaemin shifted and pressed a soft kiss the crook of your neck.

he reached out and took it from your hand before you spilled it over yourself as he turned to put it on the nearest surface. “careful,” he hummed and spun you slightly so you were now facing him. tilting his head to admire you better, his focus flicked over your features. his eyes were still foggy. 

“you’re like a flower, petal. you keep getting prettier and prettier,” jaemin murmured, hooking a finger under your chin. he leaned closer, and your breath caught as his lips brushed yours before he pulled back abruptly, almost snapping back to reality. his lips parted, about to speak —

“cops!”

immediately the music and alcohol screeched to a stop, your thoughts caught up with your heartbeat, and everyone scattered. people running out the back door, escaping through windows, and you stood frozen in shock, seeing the familiar red and blue lights flashing from outside.

oh holy fuck you’re going to get arrested and have your permanent record stained. you’re going to become the shame of the family, and you didn’t even have your diploma yet. oh god you’re so permanently screwed.

and then you were being tugged outside, the cold air hitting your face as familiar laughter surrounded you. “keep up!” haechan spoke, interlocking his arm with yours and pulling you along into a run. air rushed around you as your feet hit the ground in an attempt to not stumble and fall. 

haechan finally slowed into a walk after what felt like forever, letting go of your arm. it took you a moment to register, but the whole group was there. laughing, exhilarated by the thrill of almost getting caught.

you found amusement filling you too, hysteric laughter overcoming, and moments later the five were on the ground, staring up at the stars, calming down.

somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if the cops would go out searching, but for now it couldn’t bother you to care.

“we need to promise —” haechan’s voice sounded, “— promise to stay together.”

a quiet sound of agreement rippled through. “love you guys,” haechan added, sitting up, and causing a chain reaction. you turned your head, eyes meeting jaemin’s. maybe it was the alcohol that hadn’t been shocked out of your system, but something in his eyes made you pause.

once again, however, red and blue lights ripped through the moment. and the group scrambled up, running again, stiffled laughter following.

jaemin’s hand found yours. making sure you kept up, making sure you were still by his side.

year six.

“hot—!” haechan yelped when he tried to reach out and touch the pot, currently on the stove.

that caused a round of laughter from the group. “it’s on the stove, hyuck, of course it would be,” mark chided. it was now summer weather. and for the past week, you swear the boys haven’t left your house; claiming you had the best air conditioning.

right now they were trying and currently failing in making a fine dining ramen, jeno peacefully chopping up vegetables as mark and haechan tried cooking the noodles without losing their hands.

you were sat on the counter, watching them for your own entertainment. they had begged jaemin for help ( the only sensible one they could trust with a gas stove ) but jaemin just shook his head, an amused smile twitching at his lips. 

he had escaped somewhere halfway through the process, and hadn’t come back since, but everyone was too focused on not making this a complete disaster.

“i think it’s going well?” mark spoke, peeking at the boiling noodles.

“is it?” jeno mused, not bothering to look up from the cutting board.

“yeah mark, is it?” haechan reiterated, hand resting on the counter as he looked at mark, eyebrow raised, as if accusing him of something.

“is it?” mark completed the cycle, asking himself the question as he met haechan’s gaze, letting out a laugh.

“careful,” jaemin spoke when he came back, making sure jeno didn’t cut too close to his finger. the older nodded slightly, and jaemin stepped closer to you, leaning against the counter, watching mark and haechan as they added the flavoring packets into the noodles.

somehow no one got burned, and the three — who worked hard on the food — claimed to need a break, and they hopped off to the living room to steal your tv for the next few hours.

their voices could be heard from the living room, jeno’s full bodied laugh that you’ve only heard a handful of times, and mark’s endless giggling. probably at haechan’s expense. you couldn’t help but laugh too, even if you didn’t know what they were laughing about.

“they’re idiots,” jaemin commented, glancing at the contents of the pot, letting out a satisfied hum of approval. 

“they got the jaemin acceptance?” you smiled.

“it looks edible enough,” he responded. his voice was an easy, lazy drawl. as if he’d spent the day working and couldn’t wait to just rest.

and maybe he was tired, with the way he stepped back over to you, taking the spot in between your legs, his arms wrapping around your torso as he leaned in, resting his head in the junction of your shoulder and neck.

the action barely surprised you, and your arms came to wrap around him as well, shifting to make him more comfortable. his breath panned over your neck, slow, steady.

“good?” you spoke up.

jaemin didn’t answer for a moment. but then he nodded. “good.” his lips brushing your skin with the syllable. and then another pause of nothing, until he pressed a small kiss to your neck.

“i love you, petal,” he murmured. the words so familiar, yet so different. there was a certain undertone to them, something quiet, unspoken, something you knew wouldn’t ever be said outloud purely because it didn’t need to be.

just as you were about to respond, he lifted his head, face far too close to yours. 

something in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat. “hi,” you whispered, taking satisfaction in the way a smile spread over his lips.

that stupid grin.

“hi,” he responded in a similar soft tone, shifting his hands so they rested at your waist, fingers tracing shapes onto your skin through your shirt.

you took this time. took this time to accept the butterflies in your stomach, the lump in your throat, to take in jaemin.

one of your hands traced up to his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye, and his shoulders relaxed. you didn’t know when you had started inching closer. you didn’t know when your gaze flicked to his lips.

but you do know that he ducked his head at the last moment, letting out a soft hum. jaemin exhaled out something that resembled a laugh, before lifting his head again, meeting your gaze.

“we’re such idiots,” he huffed out, hands leaving your waist to hold your face in his hands. “i love you,” he reiterated, and his lips met yours.

it was soft, a feather brush of the lips. but there. intentional. and he pulled away just as quickly.

“i love you too jaem.” the words left your mouth before you could even think about them.

you swear he moved to lean in again. you swear something was behind his gaze before he shoved it away. something happy, excited. but the sudden disruption of mark echoed. 

“food is good, you guys have some yet?” mark questioned, walking into the kitchen before noticing the situation, and immediately covered his eyes, backing up. “didn’t see anything, didn’t ruin anything!” he yelped, only to bump into haechan, who therefore bumped into jeno, all three landing in an awkward pile. 

“what was happening??” haechan shoved mark off of him ( earning another yelp from the older ), sitting up to look into the kitchen, where jaemin had moved to stand beside you. 

both of you stifled a laugh when haechan let out a groan of disappointment.

“nothing was happening,” you spoke, leaning back on your hands, earning an unimpressed look from all three of the boys on the floor. “right jaem?” you glanced at the male at your side.

he stared at you for a moment too long. that excited spark fading slightly. “nothing,” he agreed with a small shrug.

“oh you have to be lying. i can smell the tension,” haechan spoke, pushing himself to his feet.

“ramen,” jeno spoke from his spot on the floor.

“what?”

“it’s the ramen. you didn’t turn off the stove.”

“what?”

year seven.

your worries lessened throughout the summer. jaemin hadn’t talked to yuta since that party — as far as you’re aware, and you really hoped you were right. 

junior year is where all the stress is; at least that’s what you’ve been told. figuring out where you want to go and balancing school with work. the two years earlier felt more stressful than this one, despite everyone complaining about the workload.

times had changed. haechan had spent most of last summer working, saving up for a car. he had gotten one, and despite the rusty look, he loved it.

the mornings had changed, from taking the bus to being picked up by haechan, squished in the backseat between jeno and jaemin. you had given up complaining about being in the middle.

mark had found a job at the local library, jeno was somehow surviving in the antique slash thrift store across the street from said library, and you and jaemin were still hunting for work.

hangouts at home changed to hangouts trailing after mark or jeno as they worked, rare moments between classes, and lunch. the world seemed destined to pull you all apart. and you were desperate to not let that happen. 

even so, it was peaceful; nice. no drama that you were involved in. no whispered rumors or mumbled gossip that could bother you. the library was quiet, the thrift store was comforting. jaemin was still jaemin as ever, haechan was still causing chaos whenever he could.

it was as if freshmen and sophomore year hadn’t happened. as if the weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe.

“get in quicker — mark ran late!” haechan exclaimed as you slid into the backseat, bumping into jeno on your way to the middle.

“it was you!” mark spoke, offended from the passenger seat. haechan didn’t respond, and sped off the moment your seatbelt clicked into place. you and jeno shared a small look, before you sat back, watching out the windshield as haechan drove to jaemin’s house.

jaemin was already out front, backpack slung over his shoulder and phone in hand as he sat on the porch steps. he quickly stood up when haechan yelled at him to get in, climbing in and swiftly buckling.

you glanced over at him, greeting on your tongue before it caught in your throat. “when did you do that?” jeno asked for the group, and jaemin grinned, threading a hand through his now silver dyed hair.

“yesterday,” he hummed innocently.

you felt something sick in your stomach. of course he could dye his hair, but he’d never mentioned it before. and not only did the color give yuta feels, he never did anything without consulting the groupchat first.

the group went quiet, before mark spoke up. “looks good, dude.”

that broke the tension. light chatter sparked as usual throughout the four boys, but you sunk down in your seat slightly, worry coursing through your body. 

arriving at school took another five minutes, but that had all of you rushing out of the car. the final bell rang in three. you glanced behind you to see jaemin meandering towards the doors, and you blinked, only to get pulled into the building by haechan before you could call to him.

there was something painstakingly off about him. something that had changed in that interval of a few hours where you don’t see him. but the moment you entered class, made eye contact with yuta in the back, you knew.

it was his senior year. his last chance to corrupt jaemin before he left. making your way to your seat after getting yelled at for pausing in the doorway, you couldn’t take your eyes off the older boy. he didn’t look away either. your eyes were narrowed, challenging, hiding the fact that you were scared.

scared for yourself. scared for jaemin.

scared of what he could do to jaemin.

your gaze snapped to the front when the lesson started. but you couldn’t get the thought out of your mind.

when lunch rolled around, you found the group at the normal table, and you took your normal seat next to jaemin. the one he always saved for you. normal. you wouldn’t deny that you dissociated for half the time, snapping out of it when jaemin nudged your shoulder with his, gifting you that stupid smile.

you reminded yourself to breathe. he hadn’t changed yet.

“why silver?” you questioned before the conversation could die off, reaching up to fix the strands of hair on his forehead. haechan spoke a small ‘get a room’ through a loud cough.

jaemin went quiet for a minute. too long. you were the one who told him to stay away from yuta in the first place. you knew he wouldn’t tell you. but at the same time he wouldn’t lie.

“a friend suggested it,” he finally said. too deliberate. too suspicious. and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“right.” was all you responded with. the space between you went taut as you pulled your hand away, and a guilty look he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking told you all you needed to know.

his hair stayed silver for weeks on end, and he even dragged you along to get it retouched every once in a while.

until he didn’t. 

the texts till midnight faded off to small ‘good nights’ at nine pm. his frantic notice of messaging you ‘EMERGENCY’ to get your attention changed to ‘petalllll’, patiently waiting for your response instead of spamming you. some might call it maturing, you called it concerning.

jaemin had always been bothersome in the most endearing way. and he never seemed to be at the risk of changing. which wasn’t particularly a bad thing, but it was too abrupt. too sudden for you to let it go easily. 

school was odd. he started pulling away then too. sitting across from you at lunch instead of being connected at the hip. his smile didn’t reach his eyes and the glint in his eyes looked too familiar. 

you found yourself at the library more often than not, craving for some nostalgia, hoping mark would be able to give that to you. granted, you just worriedly rambled, trailing along as he shelved books, but it was helping.

“somethings going on with him. the dyed hair, he takes hours to text back —” you sucked in a small breath. “i’m worried, mark,”

“i know you are,” mark responded, glancing at you. “but he’s probably just going through something. like that time jeno didn’t respond to us for weeks because his cat ran away.” the older shrugged.

you pressed your lips together. “but —”

“i know. it’s going to be fine,” mark interrupted you, offering you a pity smile.

and you swallowed, took a deep breath, nodded. trying to convince yourself using mark’s words. it’s going to be fine.

a hand came up to your shoulder, and you looked behind you to see jaemin. “hi petal,” he breathed, and immediately you knew something was wrong. you tensed, mark paused.

because the smell of cigarette smoke was infiltrating your senses.

“hi jaemin,” you spoke, voice weaker than you intended it to be. you cleared your throat.

the other let out a small hum of satisfaction as mark offered a greeting as well. jaemin tugged you closer, arm wrapped around your shoulders as usual. but it wasn’t the same, because you were tense. the one time jaemin’s presence hadn’t left you relaxed.

you weren’t calm, not even close to it. the cigarette smoke lingering on his clothes. that innocent grin. only smiling because he was high. he didn’t care if you knew or not, not now. and you’re scared that he won’t care even when it wears off. that he’ll stop caring, stop being jaemin.

apparently mark registered the look behind your eyes, because he reached out and tugged you over to him by your arm. jaemin’s face fell slightly, confusion crossing his gaze.

 “petal?” 

you looked up. jaemin’s eyebrows were furrowed, the start of a frown tainting his expression. mark squeezed your forearm. you drew strength from that. “yeah jaem,” you breathed.

he didn’t respond, watching you. the moment cracked when haechan came up from behind jaemin, practically jumping on him, the two almost falling over. all the apprehensiveness was suddenly gone from jaemin’s expression as he turned to haechan with a grin.

the smell of smoke was suddenly stronger. you could feel mark gripping your arm tighter.

it was almost suffocating, you felt your lungs constricting, and you wanted to pick up your feet and run as far away as you could. because not only was it jaemin, it was haechan too. forget being scared, you were terrified. like the world was crumbling underneath your feet. 

maybe it was dramatic, but you couldn’t feel any other way. not now. not when you could practically see them changing right before your eyes.

you couldn’t help but imagine a future where jaemin and haechan led jeno — mark as well — to follow them, leaving you completely, utterly, alone.

“i have to get home,” you spoke suddenly, and all the heads turned to you. “sorry,” you added, but the apology was mostly for mark, leaving him alone with them. you tugged your arm away before turning and practically running off.

year eight.

“petal!” echoed in the halls. you didn’t want to stop, but your feet seemed to pause anyway. jaemin always had that effect. 

“hey, it feels like you’re running away from me,” jaemin spoke after catching up, half out of breath from chasing after you. “i haven’t seen you in days.” he hummed.

“you saw me yesterday,” you reminded him, offering a small look his direction, trying to loosen the tension in your shoulders. at least the smoke smell wasn’t as distinct this time.

jaemin pursed his lips into a pouty frown. “i know, but we haven’t hung out.”

you didn’t respond, because you didn’t feel like lying and saying you had hung out recently. to be completely frank, you had been avoiding jaemin. purposefully reading his texts a few hours late, taking the wrong halls just to not bump into him. every time you saw him, that familiar sinking feeling settled into your stomach. suffocating.

“been busy then?” jaemin answered for you, peeking around to look at your face.

“job hunting,” you agreed shortly. it wasn’t a lie. you’d been job hunting for months. it seemed that no stores needed help anymore.

jaemin nodded. “the library?”

“tried already,” you shook your head.

“dream cafe.”

“apparently they hired five people last week,” you mumbled.

“really? but they’ve had that ‘hiring’ sign up for years,” jaemin reached up to fix his hair. still silver. “crazy timing,” he let out a small laugh, the kind that was forced, trying to ease the tension.

“yeah,” you agreed. jaemin’s eyebrows furrowed at your response, and he peeked at your face again.

“are you okay?” he asked, gaze flicking over your features. “you’re . . . acting off.”

“am i?” you mused; sarcastically if you looked close enough. 

jaemin hesitated. “yeah, petal.” he spoke quietly, almost weakly, as if he had finally gathered why you were so off. “i’ll see you later?” he offered after a silent moment, already backing up and giving you a wave.

you hated how stiff the conversation was. taut. awkward. stepping carefully as if to not set off a minefield. 

you supposed it was your fault.

jeno said the same thing after school. “granted, it’s also jaemin’s. he knows you don’t like what he’s doing,” the older added — probably just to make you feel better.

“you can’t be okay with this either, jeno,” you defended yourself, pressing your lips together.

he glanced at you, leaning against the counter slightly. it was a slow day, but you were sure jeno was fond of that. he never did like working the register. “i never said i was,” he finally said. too slowly for your taste.

tilting your head earned a small sigh from jeno. “i’m not okay with it.” words reverted, corrected, and you nodded in satisfaction. jeno rolled his eyes. “maybe you should focus on something else,” he mumbled. “maybe your grades? you only have one year left, you know,” he raised an eyebrow in your direction.

you made a face at him. “my grades are fine, thank you.”

jeno let out another sigh. “he’s going to be fine, okay? it’s jaem. he’s smart,” he tried again.

“mark said the same thing.” your gaze flicked to the side, uncertain. you couldn’t tell if it was genuine reassurance, or they just wanted you to get off their back.

jaemin never tended to follow the crowd — always one to diverge from the path, to push through foliage and leaves until he found the shortcut. so when he did end up in that crowd, it wasn’t hard to believe that he’d get lost. influenced by the wrong people, unaware of it happening.

which is what you wished was happening. you wished he was too naive, too gullible. but he wasn’t. jaemin knew exactly what he was doing.

that’s the worst part. he knows. and yet he still does it.

you knew he knew.

he knew you knew.

jeno’s customer service voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you glanced up from the counter, then down again, before doing a double take. hair dyed red, long, and somehow styled perfectly. sharp gaze, decorative chains and rings and necklaces.

yuta. 

you hadn’t seen him for a while. passing each other in school, maybe, but even then, you didn’t see him as much.

it was his last year. that was what you kept repeating to yourself. surely his effect wouldn’t last while he was gone. surely jaemin would go back to normal.

jeno offered you a side glance as he pressed a few buttons on the register, neatly folding the jacket that the older had picked out. you didn’t catch it, still unable to look away from yuta. and jeno offered a bag, turning away to grab it when he got a nod in response.

and finally, yuta met your gaze. eyes sharp, telling. if only you knew what story they were trying to thread. “thanks.” his voice was a slow drawl, hand coming up to collect the bag jeno offered. he didn’t look away from you.

“thank you for coming,” jeno spoke, in return, leaning on the counter, palms flat against the top. the smile yuta offered in return had you fighting back a shudder.

apparently yuta knew too.

knew that he won. that he got jaemin on his side.

if there were even sides to this. instead of just pathways. the walk of life. and yuta had pushed jaemin to the left fork in the road. you were still trying to drag jaemin back.

although . . . speak of the devil and he shall come. because there was the shimmer of silver hair — the one that almost sparkled in the sunlight. you knew because jaemin had shown you once, too adorably excited about it. especially when you offered the random glitter you had in your room at the time ( you were still finding glitter in your room ).

jaemin stepped up to yuta’s side, his expression falling immediately at the sight of you and jeno. like he hadn’t expected you to be there, like he hadn’t wanted you to be there.

you’re sure your expression fell too.

you couldn’t bother to pay attention to your features, instead stepping out and immediately grabbing jaemin’s wrist, pulling him away from the other two.

you’re also sure jeno shot a helpless look at the back of your head.

“jaem, i thought i told you he was bad for you.” you immediately hushed your voice down, despite the fact you had tugged jaemin away and yuta probably wasn’t bothering to listen.

it was a stark contrast to how indifferent you had acted before. you regretted it. you should’ve had this conversation earlier. 

the sad thing is, you did. you swear you’ve had this conversion with jaemin hundreds of times ( most of which were probably in your head ), and yet he was still here. still doing it.

“he’s not, petal. i swear.” jaemin always had this tick when lying. he’d press his lips together into a thin line. 

and you hated how you knew that, because why wouldn’t you? why wouldn’t you know jaemin’s every give away, his every microexpression? you were his best friend.

the utter thought of that pained you. you were his best friend. you thought you were his best friend but — 

well, you didn’t know if he thought that anymore.

“jaemin,” you almost pleaded. you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop, for him to come back to you, or both.

he swallowed. glanced back at yuta, and then to you. “i’m sorry,” jaemin mumbled, hand coming up to scratch his cheek nervously.

“jaemin.” you probably sounded too desperate.

he glanced at yuta once more, pausing before his eyes flicked to meet yours. “what, petal?” he finally spoke after a suffocating silence. “i’m sorry.” something in his gaze had changed. something hardened, something that had your stomach settling uneasily. “people grow apart, they stop talking — what excuse do you want? move on,” and your name slipped past his lips.

jaemin had this talent of stealing your breath away. but he was the one that always reminded you to breathe afterwards, albeit this time he didn’t seem to want to give it back.

you had described suffocating before, but this was drowning. and the sea was winning.

it was jaemin collecting every soft kiss on the cheek, every three am text thread, every smile and tease ever interchanged, and using them as the kindling of the fire desperately trying to keep him warm.

but then a spark.

maybe you were just grasping at threads. non-existent threads.

but his lips pressed together. one, thin line.

year nine.

jaemin had been the only thing on your mind recently. granted, he was always there, but he was never so distinct. it was like he had consumed you. cracked every part of you inch by inch until you were painfully, excruciatingly —

“calm down,” a loud voice spoke, too close to your ear. and you jumped slightly, leaning away from the sound. “you think too much,” chenle mumbled.

“i have a headache,” you groaned.

summer was spent connecting. for some reason, somehow. it wasn’t even your plan ( your summer plans consisted of hiding from the sun and crying in your room ), but you got roped into it. and you needed company. mark was busy, haechan was who knows where ( granted you’ve been slightly avoiding him too ), jeno tried his best but he’d been on vacation all summer. and jaemin —

“you poor thing,” renjun hummed, patting your back, albeit the action felt condescending.

renjun actually wasn’t really one of yuta’s posse members, not like you had originally thought. he just tagged along once, got roped up into their antics, and then left as soon as it went too far.

the sun was out, the clouds were fluffy, the sky a shade of blue that felt too pretty for human eyes. and school started tomorrow. you’d barely seen jaemin all summer. texting him was a rarity — him responding was even rarer. now you’d have to face him tomorrow. because for all you knew, haechan was the easiest way to get to school.

renjun doesn’t have a car, chenle hasn’t bothered to learn how to drive yet. you’d just have to hope and pray that they hadn’t forgotten about you.

“when’s jisung getting hereee, it’s hottt,” chenle complained, dragging out the syllables for added effect, shifting on his spot on the picnic table as he pulled out his phone, checking the group chat for any updates.

“it’s been five minutes, le,” you mumbled, also pulling out your phone to check. 

“five minutes too late,” the younger responded, pursing his lips into a pout as he started typing out a message to assumably yell at jisung.

renjun shared a look with you, one of pure exasperation, and you smiled. jisung and chenle were underclassmen. you had bumped into the group randomly on one of your pity walks — the ones where you haul yourself outside so you can say you hadn’t rotted in bed all summer — and for some reason they sparked a conversation. 

chenle had recognized you, jisung didn’t know who you were. renjun offered an awkward start.

so here you were now, at the end of summer after hanging out with the friends you didn’t know your entire life. and you missed mark. you knew he’d laugh too loudly at chenle’s jokes, haechan would love messing with renjun, jeno would be jeno, and jaemin . . . he’d fit in too well and it hurt. 

it hurt because you missed him. painfully so. everything hurt. 

“i just got here. stop being so melancholy,” jisung mumbled as he sank into the seat next to you, nudging your arm with his to snap you out of your thoughts again. “this jaemin is a jerk, i don’t know why you’re sad about him.” he shook his head slightly.

you knew their opinions of jaemin. the topic had slipped out one time when they asked where your other friends were. it was a messy evening of disgusted and offended expressions, chenle’s loud dolphin screech when defending you, and jisung’s small mumbles of how you shouldn’t feel bad. renjun already knew most of it anyway.

“because —”

“you were friends for your entire life,” chenle interrupted, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “we know. but friends grow apart, just how life works.”

you went quiet, fidgeting with your hands, and the silence followed you, until it was broken by a small yelp of pain from chenle who sent renjun a sharp glare.

“i mean—sorry?” chenle turned back to you with a shrug. 

a hand found yours, and you glanced to the side to see jisung offering you a small smile. he squeezed your hand. you couldn’t help but offer a smile in return. 

jisung was a comfort you had found in the passing days. 

sure, chenle and renjun were good friends, but jisung was soft. quiet, and peaceful in the way that it settled your antsyness. he was like jaemin — what jaemin was to you before.

you tried desperately not to think of jisung as a replacement.

“come on guys, we’re already late,” jisung spoke up, distracting chenle effectively, and the male stood up from the picnic bench, pushing himself up, palms flat against the wood.

“jisung’s right, let’s go,” he hummed, shifting and happily hopping off, not looking back to see if you three were following.

you huffed out a small laugh, before moving and pulling jisung along with you, glancing to make sure renjun got up too.

the world seemed to want to match your mood that morning. the blue from yesterday had faded to a gloom, a grey cloud cover holding the sun back from shining. you were sat on your porch, staring at your text thread with haechan. ‘hey can you still pick me up?’ from you, highlighted by that familiar blue, and the words ‘read, 6:54 am’ right under them. 

no response, not even one of those thumbs up reactions. though you knew avoiding haechan all summer wouldn’t help with that.

it was seven thirty. routine was him showing up at seven ten. you clicked off your phone, letting out a small sigh, standing up. the school wasn’t that far. just enough walking distance to be annoying, but not painful.

your name was called, and you immediately looked up, finding the familiar action of haechan gesturing for you to get in, his car in front of the sidewalk, mark in the passenger seat as usual. 

you stepped over, climbing into the backseat, letting out a quiet, relieved breath to yourself. “where’s jeno?” you questioned, buckling as haechan started driving.

“he got a car apparently,” haechan answered, giving you an eye roll through the rearview mirror, “his parents and grandparents helped pay for it.”

“we get it, you worked hard for yours,” mark spoke, exasperated like he had heard this story before — he probably had — but a grin was on his face.

“why does he get his for free??” haechan whined.

“anyway, he’s picking up jaem, so you have the backseat to yourself,” mark ignored haechan’s pitchy complaints as he turned slightly to look at you.

“oh,” you said, a mix of relief that you wouldn’t have to be squished in between them anymore, but then came the dread. you had prepared yourself all morning to face jaemin, and now you had to wait an extra ten minutes. “thank god,” you added after a silent moment to avoid getting a pity look from mark.

the older stared at you for a moment, before turning back to sit right in his seat. and you slouched slightly, half listening to haechan’s continued envious complaints about jeno’s car.

you watched mark and haechan interact, feeling a slight relief that haechan didn’t question your sudden disappearance from his life. mark had told you a few months ago that haechan had immediately quit smoking after that moment anyway.

you turned to look out the window, attempting to prepare yourself.

when the familiar sight of the school building faded into view, you forced out a breath. haechan practically dragged you out of his car after he parked, and you listened in as he told you about his eventful summer.

part of you wanted to go find jaemin. the other wanted to run to your first period and start planning out all your routes of avoiding him while also not being a complete loner. you’d have to text chenle for his schedule. he probably knew renjun’s and jisung’s already too.

the second part of you won out, and you waved mark and haechan a goodbye, slipping out of the latter’s grip to head to your first period.

you wished it could’ve been a normal first day like usual. where you and jaemin somehow immediately find each other — where you practically always have the same schedule, and walked to class together. always.

a third part of you wished that your schedules were the same.

and a fourth wished they were different.

taking a seat near the middle of the classroom, you glanced at the board, before sliding down in your seat slightly, letting out the nth deep-sigh-of-resignation breath today.

the bell rang five minutes later. no jaemin. you didn’t know whether you wanted to let out a cheer or a disappointed cry. when the teacher walked in, the joyful first day activities began. you were trying to listen as they rambled about grade percentages, icebreakers, and themselves, but all your attention was stolen when the door opened. 

jaemin walked into the room like a ghost from your past. but he didn’t look the same. the jaemin you remembered had fire in his gaze. warmth, comfort. this one had ice. cold, dark indifference.

his hair was dyed a dark blue. dark enough that it could pass as black. his natural hair color. you wondered if that was on purpose, but you knew that nothing in his life was about you anymore.

you looked up to meet his eyes as he surveyed the room. brown, hardened by the act of threat, but they didn’t soften this time. he barely even looked at you, flicking away to look over your head for an empty seat. and he maneuvered through, brushing past you.

ignoring the way your heart sunk to your stomach was a task. but you don’t know what you were hoping for.

the summer of silence had said enough.

though the whispers that followed him were new. 

not that jaemin hadn’t gotten a multitude of rumors with his name before, but these were tense. words of how he’d stolen from convenience stores, how he had just picked something up and walked out with it.

there were mentions of drugs, alcohol, sex.

the third part of you knew they weren’t true, at least not all of them. though rumors came from a sprinkle of truth. 

“na jaemin,” the teacher spoke the moment jaemin sat down. apparently he’d made enough of a name of himself for the teachers to already know him. “please refrain from being late and interrupting class, won’t you?”

jaemin didn’t answer, slouching in his seat slightly, turning his head to look out the window. and the whispers started up again.

the moment the bell rung, you stood up to go find chenle, hating the way you almost fell over to keep from bumping into jaemin. he spared you something that barely resembled a glance, but you didn’t stick around.

blood was pounding in your ears and you felt so stupid for being on the brink of tears.

“hey —” a familiar voice caught up with you, and you were so painfully thankful to hear it.

“hi jeno,” you responded, but at that point you were already pulling him into a hug, hiding your face in his chest. your voice was barely audible, muffled against his clothing.

“hey,” jeno replied, with the same word, though softer this time, like he already knew what was going on inside your head. and his arms wrapped around your middle.

you stayed like that, in the middle of the hall, surely being the biggest annoyance to other people, until jeno let go and pulled you over to the side, ducking his head down slightly to meet your eyes. “you okay?” he questioned, worry creasing his features.

“she’s fine.” chenle’s voice came from out of nowhere, and you looked to your side to see the male staring jeno down like he had personally offended him.

you blinked, forcing your tears away as you let out a small laugh. “it’s fine lele,” you mumbled, removing yourself from jeno’s arms when you felt the pressure of jisung’s stare after he had come up from behind chenle. “this is jeno.”

chenle’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, and his hardened expression immediately cracked. “wasn’t sure — better safe than sorry!” he chirped, offering a smile to jeno, who merely blinked in return.

“you already saw him?” jisung spoke, keeping his voice quiet like someone would be listening in. his hand came up to yours, interlacing your fingers.

you nodded, swallowing down the emotions threatening to spill over again. you didn’t think it would’ve been that hard.

jisung squeezed your hand. and you forced your eyes up from where they had fallen to the floor, noting the way jeno’s eyes seemed to be trained on your hands. 

“so where’s your next class?” chenle interjected, moving to distract you, shoulder bumping against yours as he led you on to start walking again. you didn’t let go of jisung’s hand, ultimately leading him along as well.

jeno took the spot next to chenle.

your mind flashed to a vague remembrance of your schedule. you shrugged, earning an eye roll from chenle as he proceeded to drag you to his next class instead.

year ten.

you’re not sure you could get any lower. 

you’re pretty sure your heart shatters over again every time you see jaemin. you wonder if you could sue the school for giving you and jaemin the same schedule — but last year you would’ve been cheering, jumping up and down with jaemin.

he’s changed his hair at least three times throughout the school year. from dark blue to blond, to light brown, and currently settled at a light pink.

his favorite color; if it was still his favorite color. or maybe he had changed that too.

‘come by the library?’ was the first notification you got after school, mark’s contact name popping up on your screen, and you shoved your phone back into your pocket, turning on your heel to head in the direction of the library.

you pushed the door open once you got there, relishing in the peaceful quiet of the place. you wondered why you didn’t go to the library as often — it was a nice break from everything. 

a quiet call of your name snapped you back to reality, and you turned to see mark gesturing you over, a cart of books at his side. 

“hey,” he hummed, and his tone of voice had you pausing slightly.

“hey,” you reiterated his greeting, although yours was slower, more cautious.

“jaemin texted me,” mark spoke, reiterating your tone this time, meeting your gaze, hand pausing halfway up to the shelf before he shoved it where it was supposed to go.

you bit your tongue. “oh.” you tried your best to keep your tone neutral, flat, even. it’d been too long for it to still have an effect on you ( that’s what you told yourself ).

mark continued. “he asked about you.”

“oh.”

that earned you a stare from mark, to which you responded with a stare back, and mark unlocked his phone to hand it to you.

you tapped to messages, jaemin’s contact, then scrolled up a bit until you saw ‘petal’. and you paused, starting your downwards scroll, scanning the messages.

‘petal hates me right’ was the first thing that really caught your eye, and your movement stalled, swallowing slightly.

you didn’t. you really didn’t hate him, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much chenle, jisung and renjun thought you should.

the way your heart stuttered every time you saw him was traitorous. in nerves, embarrassment, anything else — you couldn’t answer.

“you okay?” mark questioned, noting the look in your eyes. he reached out and took the phone from you, keeping you from seeing anything else. the way his finger twitched let you know that he regretted showing you.

“fine,” you mumbled.

mark let out a small breath, slow, knowing. 

“i’m going to head home.” the words left your mouth shortly. 

“stay safe,” mark spoke softly.

something bad was going to happen. you knew it the moment jaemin’s contact popped up on your notifications. the dread had started since you had read the text. and the uneasiness had settled in your stomach when you had typed back without thinking.

min  11:42 pm     can we talk?

you  11:49 pm     yeah

min  11:49 pm     okay

min  11:50 pm     i’m coming over

coming over. 

face to face. 

to talk.

you didn’t even know why you had agreed. your fingers had moved before you had even thought of a response. maybe it was years of practice. jaemin whining at you when you took too long to respond, that you had fell into this habit of responding in at least the next minute.

if that was even a thing.

you spent the ten minutes it took to get from his house to yours sitting on the couch, practically rocking back and forth, wondering why it took fifteen minutes instead.

until jeno’s car pulled into the driveway, and you were at the door even before jaemin knocked.

he did. the sound echoing through the room like some sort of impending doom. your hand grasped the doorknob, turned it, pulled. 

and there he was. jaemin — your jaemin. the one who had that everlasting sparkle in his eyes, the one who giggled at everything cute and snatched up everything even remotely pink.

“your hair’s pink,” you blurted out, despite already knowing this information.

jaemin’s gaze flicked up, as if seeing the color for the first time. he shrugged. “yeah.”

you swallowed before stepping aside, letting him in. the silence was long, painfully so. neither of you spoke. the only echo being the click when you closed the door.

your eyes traced his features like you hadn’t seen him in years. and it felt like it. that you haven’t seen your jaemin since yuta entered the picture. his eyes were soft, not the cold exterior you saw in school, but almost back to that soft brown. warm. guilt ridden.

“i’m sorry petal,” he finally broke the silence, saying the words you’d been thinking of for the past year. “i’m so fuck — i’m so sorry,” he whispered. not the strain where he was forcing them out, but the strain where the words had been wearing at his vocal cords for months, where the pressure of them had been pushing on his thoughts, where it caused an endless headache if he didn’t get them out, if he didn’t mean them.

you didn’t respond. couldn’t; not when relief flooded your eyes, not when it felt like your throat was closing up. you didn’t think you’d get him back, not your jaemin.

but now here he was, standing in front of you, shoulders shrinking into himself the longer you stayed quiet.

“jaem.” his name was an exhale, one that urged him to look up.

your eyes met. staring, unwilling to look away. and something clicked.

you weren’t sure what — maybe your friendship, maybe a silent agreement, maybe, maybe, both of you looking at each other, and finally realizing everything. the small, tiny details. the ones neither of you had talked about in months.

you found yourself crashing into jaemin’s arms, which wrapped around you. securely; the reassurance only he could offer, relaxation that made your entire being lighten.

a small laugh fell from his lips — though someone could say it sounded more like the start of a sob.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt so relieved in your life, not because jaemin was crying, but because now you knew you weren’t losing him, you hadn’t lost him.

“i love you, petal — i can’t — i can’t just apologize for doing — leaving you —” jaemin stumbled over his words, slightly muffled by the way he spoke them into your shoulder. his grip tightened, obviously straining.

“i love you too jaem,” you whispered back, and the words weren’t romantic, they didn’t need to be. because you both did love each other — too much for it to be expressed in a three word sentence, far too much for it to be ruined by vacuous stares.

he pulled away slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a wisp of space between you two. you could see the slight glimmer in his eyes. the threat of tears. 

something in you stitched itself back together again. your hands traced up to cup his face, thumbing under his cheek as if catching the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. 

he started leaning in before you did. and the moment your lips met his felt like you’d gone home. it was years, years, of shared looks, sinking hearts, and smiles that were only there for each other.

jaemin’s hands came up to rest on your wrists, holding your hands in place, keeping you steady, centered, grounded. when he pulled away his eyes met yours again. his lips parted to speak, only for a small ding to interrupt the conversation.

the two of you let out a small laugh, and your hands dropped from his face. “you should check that,” you whispered, not wanting to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. “it’s late, might be your mom.”

jaemin nodded, heart sinking at the loss of your touch, before he pulled out his phone, earning the sight of a notification from jeno that read: ‘dude where did you even go’

another one popped up: ‘can you ask before stealing my car at midnight’

then a third one: ‘come back before my mom notices 💔’

jaemin huffed out another soft laugh, “i have to go,” he hummed, texting jeno back before sliding his phone away. “i’ll see you tomorrow? and we can talk? fully?” hope lingered in his eyes.

your smile was something jaemin couldn’t help but lean in to kiss again. a small noise of surprise slipped from your throat, eliciting another peck from him ( cuteness aggression ).

“jaem — jaem —” you giggled, reaching to hold his face in your hands again, keeping him from leaning in a third time. “you have to go,” you reminded him.

“right,” he whispered, not moving.

you let out a small hum, and another notification from his phone got him to straighten up slightly.

“okay,” jaemin mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “tomorrow,” he promised. and you nodded, watching him step back and bump into the door before opening it and slipping out with a small wave.

you glanced at the window, watching jeno’s car pull out of the driveway. and you let out a soft breath, relief surging through you for the nth time. god you loved him.

the multitude of jokes should’ve prepared jaemin for this — his life flashing before his eyes. and of course, the first thing was you.

when he was eight years old he had made the best decision of his life. speaking up and saving you from the jerks who thought you were anything but pretty. you had caught his eye on the first day of school, and he’d went home that day asking his mom about love.

when he was thirteen he knew it was you. maybe not romantically, but he knew you were his soulmate. the moment pink stained your cheeks and the nickname petal first slipped from his lips. it fit you painfully well. pretty, pure, soft.

and when he was fourteen he now realized he made you a promise he couldn’t keep. because you didn’t have any more time — not with him anymore. he wished you did.

jaemin knew you were lying. fifteen years old, seven years of friendship and he knew you like the back of his hand. how couldn’t he, with the way his eyes barely fell from you. but he had brushed it off, pushed it aside without talking about it. he should’ve asked.

sophomore year and he regretted everything — especially pulling away. especially not just leaning in and finally . . something could’ve started so much earlier, instead of the years of pinning, of knowing glances yet nothing happening.

seventeen left him dazed and confused, heavy with rejection. he couldn’t tell you how long he stayed up after that, how long he felt your lips lingering against his, your confession echoing in his head and yet he still didn’t address it. neither did you.

the silver hair he adorned for junior year, and mark joked that it had seeped into his head. maybe it had — maybe he could blame everything he’d done on hair dye poison. maybe he could rewind time and promise you it wasn’t your fault.

and maybe he should’ve told you that he had lied. that every single word of his in that fight wasn’t true, that he hadn’t changed, that he hadn’t grown apart.

yet all he left you with was a lingering kiss and a promise that he’d be back.

but he wouldn’t be coming back. 

not with the screeching tires in his ears, the loud honking, and the headlights of a car at his side.

god, he loved you. of course you would be the last thought on his mind.

you woke up to your phone buzzing on your night stand. groggy, tired, and half expecting it to be jaemin, you picked up without glancing at the caller id — jeno’s voice filling your ear.

“hey —” choked, tearful.

“jen?” you responded, panic surging through your voice. “hey, what’s —?”

“jaem. it’s jaem.” whispered. “fuck, y/n —”

“jeno, what’s happening,” you whispered back, heart racing, pushing yourself into a sitting position.

Anton had come a long way. He was a man whore at the beginning of this fateful day. He was titled a slut, albeit for a good cause, but he was a slut nonetheless.

But he’s had a change of heart. He thinks it’s because you’re such a pretty sleeper. Your normally furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, the tension you perpetually held across your body eased. One final gentle breath turned to a quiet snore as you laid out across his chest. You even let out little sighs as you sluggishly adjusted yourself on Anton’s body.

Anton realized while looking at you that this was the idyllic life Sohee had told him about. Everything he told Anton about making sure he was the one that was there for his girlfriend all made sense. You were in bed knowing that he was there, sleeping against him like you needed him. Whenever you would snuggle closer into him he found himself no longer thinking about other girls. The self-appointed mission became irrelevant. Everything was in his peripheral because he was looking straight at you. If he hadn’t proved himself to you, you wouldn’t have told him thank you so earnestly. He only wanted to keep looking at you as you sleep blissfully.

So in that moment he retired from the cause. He hung his metaphorical hat and was officially through with his journey of closing the orgasm gap on campus. As his dick finally got soft enough to slip out of you he set out on another mission; to become the man you deserved. He would be loyal, he wouldn’t exploit your inexperience for his selfish desires, and he wouldn’t subject you to wondering how he felt about you ever again. He decided that you would never declare him an asshole ever again, that he would be the charming and kind sweetheart that he knew he could be.

He looked out your window to the setting Sun and rubbed your back gently. Everything about you was so soft. You stirred only for a moment to cuddle further into him. He smiled to himself and then looked at your serene face. When he saw a small smile subconsciously etch across your face he smiled even bigger. He was careful not to wake you as he shifted you to the side of his body. You only whined and Anton found himself instinctually kissing your damp forehead. He can’t believe you tuckered yourself out so quickly. He even felt selfish for being so alert. Like he was the reason you fucked yourself to sleep on him, even if he was no more than a toy. He was used for all but five minutes and you were already deep in sleep to snore. 

Anton has been in this situation before. Some girls went to sleep after having sex, the post-orgasm bliss lulling them into a catnap. When this would happen he’d quietly show himself out. He would tidy up any mess he made and leave without a trace. On the rare occasion that they’d ask Anton where he went he would sheepishly say he didn’t want to invade their space. 

But the mere thought of leaving your side made Anton’s heartache. He was still lingering on the lines of your face, only breaking away to kiss your forehead again. He pressed his lips to your skin for more than a minute, he even pulled you closer while he did it. Your body was heavy from sleep but you were pliant in his arm, body curling up to his as he held you close. He let your body go back to its previous position and he was slow as he took the slimy latex off his dick. He held his breath as he pulled his arm out from under you and eased himself out of your bed.

Instead of leaving like previous-Anton would’ve done, he put his shirt and boxers back on and slid into bed with you like he belonged there. You instantly started cuddling with him like he was supposed to be here. Your body was warm, and when Anton pulled your covers over you both he got a waft of your smell. He was eventually lulled to sleep too, feeling so calm he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer and letting his eyes close. Anton took the heavy drowsiness across his body as a sign to let himself fall asleep.

Anton woke up in the middle of the night to you moving beside him. He opened his eyes slightly to see you getting up from the bed and heard the creak in the mattress from the shift in your body weight. He closed his eyes again when he felt your absence from the bed. 

He listened to you walking around your room. He heard the sound of a lamp turning on and could see the light bleed past his eyelids. After hearing you pace around he felt a dip in the edge of the mattress beside him where you were sitting. Anton could feel your eyes on him, it was the same concentrated look he received in the library. 

After a moment he let his eyes flutter open, and he caught you still looking at him intensely. 

The air between you two was tense. Neither of you reacted, you didn’t look away and neither did Anton. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You reached out and touched his clothed chest. He reached out and touched the bottom of a large shirt you slipped back on at some point.

“You didn’t cum, did you?” you asked.

Anton debated on lying. He’s done it before, and he has faked it completely a few times. You just seemed so sad when you asked the question, like you were disappointed. You held your breath and hesitated when you asked it, too. Anton couldn’t handle being the reason you were doing a nervous tick, or that you were having thoughts of inadequacy. 

“I didn’t.” Anton shifted on the bed when you turned away from him. He pulled on your shirt slightly to get you to look at him again. “but that doesn’t matter to me,” he assured.

He was telling the truth. He was more than satisfied being your living, breathing toy. He already feels a rush remembering how you looked above him. Your eyes were trained on the bend of your elbow for the most of it, but there were moments where you looked down at him and he was lucky enough to catch your eye. You were hot all over, your skin wet to the touch. He was amazed that you ended up getting so warm so fast, and that you were squeezing him so tight. He existed for your pleasure, to heighten it. He wanted to cater to you. Not finishing didn’t feel like a shortcoming because it wasn’t necessarily his goal. He was satisfied seeing your flushed skin and feeling your walls pulse around his dick as you let out weak whimpers.

He thinks he could cum without being touched if he replayed the sounds you made when you were on top of him enough times. When you thanked him; all he would need is for you to just say it one more time.

But you scoffed like you didn’t believe him. You looked away and Anton still felt the need to prove himself to you. He was still a sweetheart, but for you and you alone.

“I really don’t mind,” he says.

Anton watched you turn his body towards him but still avoid his gaze. He could feel your embarrassment, see the hesitation in the way you messed with the bottom hem of your shirt.

“We’ve done this twice,” you say.

Anton nods. He can’t stop himself from smiling that he’s gotten so lucky twice.

“I feel like at this point I’m using you a little bit,” you laugh dryly. You still mess with the bottom hem of your shirt as you speak, and each effort Anton makes to look at you is thwarted by your wandering eyes. “I just have you come over to get off.”

“I really don’t mind,” Anton says truthfully.

“I know you don’t,” you say.

Both you and Anton sat in silence. He let you look around, mess with your shirt and your arm and tap your feet on the ground. He let you go through the motions, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t lament how fine he was with your current situation. If anything, he wanted more of it. He wanted it to keep happening.

“I wanna try something,” you say. 

Anton is nodding before you can even finish. You finally meet his eye, tilting your head a little bit. Anton sees you try to emulate the saccharine tone you’ve seen in all the pornos. Instead of leaning close and asking you a question that will get you to squirm away he nods slowly, trying to goad you on.

“Can I try it on you?” you ask.

Anton is fully sitting up on your bed now. He feels the excitement before he knows exactly what you’re proposing. 

He reaches towards you but you’re standing up from your bed, right next to the mattress. You point to your chair, neatly pushed underneath your desk.

“Sit down in the chair,” Anton is sitting against your bed frame, eyes wide and lips parted. When he takes to long he sees you get nervous again, looking down before you motion to the chair. “please,” you add.

Anton is fast pulling himself out of the bed. He’s even faster to sit down on your chair even in just his boxers and shirt, looking up at you still standing next to your bed. His hands go down his thighs, ending at the knee before he goes to your armrests.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.

You don’t answer him. You completely submit speaking, instead you take slow steps towards him, your bare feet passing against your hardwood floor. Anton grips the armrests a little tighter.

He sees how slow and hesitant you are. He knows it would be easy to exploit that, to feed off your own anxiety. He could smirk up at you, or widen his legs mockingly. Or he could scoot to the back of the chair and look up to you with big worried eyes and ask if he’s doing this right.

But he’s retired from the cause. Even though he’s seen that look enough to know what you’re thinking about doing to him. He won’t make fun of you, or force you to vocalize them either. He has never wanted anything in return from girls but seeing you walk over to him in just a big shirt and underwear he feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

When you’re close enough that he has to look up he holds the armrest so desperately to stop himself from reaching towards you. 

Instead of crawling on top of him you press your legs against his knees. Anton is hesitant to spread them, so hesitant you have to put your hands on his knees and part them yourself. Anton feels his thighs stretch, and he instinctively goes to the edge of his seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

The question rages in his mind when he sees you slowly sink down to your knees. Anton follows your head as you go lower and lower, until you kneel and then both of your knees are pressed into your floor.

“Just wanna try something,” you answer quietly, staring between his legs. “I’ve never done it before.”

He wasn’t completely sure what to make of your demeanor. You were nervous, that he knew. Your hand was hesitant going over the plaid fabric of his boxers. You started off by pinching the fabric, then a heavy hand that turned light as you got closer and closer to where he was starting to ache.

He wanted to ask if you were scared of his dick. He would’ve replaced the word with it and then emphasize that you had only seen it in a dimly lit room before it was inside of you. You haven’t been face to face with ti before, and part of Anton wanted to remind you of that.

But he let himself fall privy to the calculating looks you were giving him before. Your eyes were large, not just from anxiety, but like you were watching him. Each move you made triggered a quick glance up towards him. When he took it upon himself to sigh lightly after your hand grazed over the bulge again, you gaze instantly shot up to his face.

He only moved when you did it first. He settled a little more into his seat and you were getting comfortable on your haunches. Your eyes kept flickering up towards him, and you ran your hand a little heavier over his bulge. His knuckles almost turned a ghostly pale from how tight he was holding the leather cushions of the armrests.

Anton knew the implication of you between his legs. He was fully expecting you to ride him in his chair, but your reaction to him not finishing was what set you on this current mission. You were bold enough to gauge for his reactions, driven by some sort of need to serve him how he’s served you. He let out another sigh and leaned a little more in the chair. He felt you scoot closer to his body on your knees, rocking the chair slightly with your movements. Anton dared to look down at you when he felt your other hand press into his inner thigh.

“You’re not just making those sounds for me, right?” you asked.

Anton shook his head looking at your pout. He already felt the sweat dotting his hairline.

“I just want you to know I like what you’re doing for me,” he said gently. He even reached a hand forward to cup your chin. “I’m happy with anything.”

“I know you are,” you said, almost mockingly. 

Anton can’t help himself. He felt himself throb at your determination, how you were a little bit upset at his indifference to not finishing. Anton knows the attitude is a product of you trying to get your nerves up, the same way you were rubbing your hands up and down his thighs. Anton’s leg tapped each time you got close to his crotch, and he hoped you were feeling up to, at the very least, looking at his dick. 

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago you already were rubbing your hands up and down his legs in an attempt to get your nerves up. 

Anton watched you hesitate, then bring your head to rest right where his boxers began on his thigh. Anton took a chance to scoot closer to the edge of his seat. The fabric of his boxers pressed a little tighter to his body. His bulge was more obvious now, and he saw you focus completely on him. 

Because of your trepidation, Anton is dedicated to seeming as nonthreatening as possible. He tries his best to not be wooed by your hesitation, despite the churn in his gut at the sight of you lifting your head from his thigh slightly.

“You’re so pretty,” he says gently.

Anton watched you shy away at the compliment. He twitched in his boxers when you smiled slightly, head still resting on his thigh. You peered up at him, he didn’t know if you were trying to look so flirtatious.

“Thank you,” you say. Your hand draws a delicate pattern on the soft skin of his inner thigh “I’m sure you tell everyone that, though.”

Anton shakes his head. Before he can tell you that he’s changed, your hand reaches through the flap of fabric through his boxers. Your soft hand wraps around his dick completely and tactfully pulls it out. Anton gasps and stiffens in his chair immediately seeing your hand wrapped around the base.

You freeze too. You look up at him and seem apologetic.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Anton shakes his head. Nothing was wrong, but he was expecting a little more hesitancy. You didn’t waste any time giving him an experimental stroke that made him lift from his seat slightly. You were looking up at him, repeating the same motion just to see him do it again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered.

He let out a quiet breath, widening his legs a little more. Instantly you were scooting closer, and Anton could feel himself getting pulled into the seat. His implication of a reputation made it so he didn’t receive much. He didn’t complain, he figured that asking girls for head or handjobs kind of took away from his grand mission. 

But you wanted to do this. You were alternating between his dick and his face, moving your hand in the same motion over and over again. Both of you watched precum bead at his tip, both of you watched your hand collect it on the way down. He didn’t know you knew how to tease him when your soft thumb massaged the sensitive underside. Anton had to look away from you learning about him. He leaned his head against the back of the office chair, letting his head tilt from side to side.

“Feels so good,” Anton whispered.

You nodded and moved your face closer. He moved his hands underneath his shirt quick to rest over his tensed and clammy stomach. Anton knew distracting his hands would stop him from greedily touching your head or hair, or holding your shoulder to keep you in place. He wants you to do everything you want to do to him on your own volition. 

Anton feels you try different grips on him. A little tighter, a little loose. You go to his tip again and haphazardly spread his precum over the sensitive skin. Anton couldn’t stop himself from twitching upwards into your hand. He knows he’s your test subject. He’s careful to not do anything suddenly, instead letting you get used to all of him. He feels you rest your check on his inner thigh again. 

He digs his fingers into his stomach when he looks down.

You’re so pretty, leaned against him watching your hand and his dick get harder. Anton wants to tell you the pleasure is almost painful, and having you so close hurts.

“How should I do it?” you ask.

Despite barely being able to take him a few hours ago, you ask the question without pausing once. Your eyes flick up to his and he feels his body warm with excitement. His face becomes especially warm, and he finds himself looking away while he tries to articulate his answer.

“Let me take off my boxers first,” he says.

Anton sits up in his chair and you both reach for his waistband at the same time. He pushes and you pull, and his hard dick goes through the fly of his boxers again before smacking against his shirt. He’s still hard, even more now because you’re clearing your throat and scraping your nails lightly against his legs.

You take him in your hand again. You look up and Anton nods encouragingly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You jerk him off with the perfect amount of force, a little slow to build the tension. Anton can’t tell if this is beginners luck or if his body is already accustomed to you. Still, he understands the weight of the situation. He clears his throat and puts his hands in the gap between his tailbone and the back of the chair.

“If you don’t like it, or can’t take it—”

“You think I can’t take it?” you interrupt.

Anton wants to whine when your hand abruptly stops. He pitifully moves in your chair again, his body following after the previous motions of your hand.

Quickly he’s shaking his head, nails digging into his palm.

“No,” Anton stammers, pushing his hips up so his dick goes through your fisted hand again. He’s grateful you’re so focused on him that you don’t see how pitiful he’s become. “I just want you to know that there’s no pressure here or anything.”

“I know,” you say. “you’re only here because I asked you to be.”

He doesn’t know if it’s because his mind is operating at half its regular speed, but he caught a hint of bitterness in your tone. But he also liked the implication that he will always be there when you call. You didn’t have to put on that act of asking for help to get him to come over. He needs to tell you that he’s a changed man now. He won’t leave your dorm and try to sleep with anyone else. This is it for him, he’s convinced.

Instead, he nods his head until you go back to only looking at his dick.

“Just take it slow,” Anton says quietly. 

“Okay,” you say quietly.

He’s hot all over. He can’t take his shirt off because he doesn’t want to seem too big. He’s already at a disadvantage, because your body is between his muscular legs and he must look bigger from down where you’re kneeled. His oversized shirt does help him seem smaller, the way he melts into the chair relinquishes his control. He’s sweating everywhere, but he will just have to bear it. 

When your warm breath fans his flushed dick he thinks he’s going to burst into flames. He doesn’t know if he looking down at you when you’re like this makes you nervous, but he can’t resist. He can’t look away when he sees your mouth get closer to his dick.

“Maybe just try licking it,” Anton quietly suggests.

He was already weak. When you ignored his request and instead took his entire tip into your warm mouth he nearly melted out of his seat. Your plump lips wrapped around him tight. You were so soft around him that it took his breath away. His hands went from behind his back to gripping the armrests of the chair.

“God,” he breathed out.

You readjusted yourself on your knees, pressing one of your warm hands to the inside of his thigh and the other to wrap around the root of his dick. Anton looked up when he felt your wet tongue run over his slit. You work further down and he extends his legs, trying to find some sense of stability. 

This was moving too fast. Anton prided himself in having endurance during moments like these. He could go for hours and for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. He knew he was able to go all night, but the way you worked further down made that tension twist in his body. You pulled your head up, and he watched you wipe the spit on your lips with the back of your hand. 

“You can stop if you want,” Anton says weakly.

He failed at adding bass to his voice. He sat up slightly in the chair through the overwhelming sensitivity. He finally put a gentle hand on your shoulder, ready to push you back if you tried coming close again. His balls were already tight, he was getting even harder in your hands even without you moving. He thinks if you even touch him anywhere else he’d finish immediately. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask.

Your voice is hoarse and the words come through puffy lips. Anton doesn’t know how he’s able to see something so beautiful. His dick twitches in your hands and he has to fight himself to not lean back in the seat.

He should nod his head. Give some sort of excuse like he’s given other girls when he’s had to leave. But your eyes are still hungry, looking up at him like you’re gauging his reactions.

“I really want you to keep going,” he answers truthfully.

He was fully convinced he was going to nod his head. In his mind he was very dedicated to you not putting in any more work. Your lips were already swollen and drool seeped from the corner of your lips. He saw that your eyes were a little teary too, and your eyelashes were clumped together from it. 

But when he looked at you and felt your hand give his still pulsing dick a delicate pump, he couldn’t help himself. He was answering with a weak voice while readjusting himself in his seat.

“Please don’t stop,” he said.

You didn’t say another word before wrapping your lips around his tip again. He tilted his hips upwards into your mouth, and kept a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t pull or push but he did squeeze. Each time he felt the pressure building up he clasped his hand. The motion helped pull him from the edge. Each time he heard you make a noise from the back of your throat or put a warm hand on his thigh his grip pulsed. He could see his fingers digging into your shirt. He wanted to ask if he was hurting you but the only thing he could manage when he opened his mouth were broken moans and tiny cries.

You brought your head up to focus on his tip. He felt the wet pressure and your tongue swiping across the sensitive skin. Your hand was completely slick from all the spit and precum. There was no resistance as you worked your hand up and down his dick. 

Anton watched the flick in your wrist, how you changed the position of your arm to get a better angle. Anton didn’t know what to do with the view. You went further than before, looking up at him through watery eyes like you wanted approval. If he could vocalize properly he would’ve told you that you were doing so well. He’s never felt like this before or gotten close to the peak so fast. 

When you gag again his hand goes so tight on your shoulder you look up at him. Your eyes that focused solely on his happy trail or your hand on his thigh finally peaked upwards at him. The sight made Anton tilt his head back to focus on your ceiling. He could feel his throat tighten.

“I’m close,” he croaked.

He said it as a warning. If he kept squeezing your shoulder he was sure he’d hurt you. Anton gripped his dick at the base, eclipsing your hand. Instead of pulling you closer or holding onto your shoulder he tries to push, because his warning didn’t seem to get through to you. Despite the panic in his voice you continue with the same speed, sucking and licking and bobbing your head.

“Baby,” he whines. “I said I’m really close.”

You only continue. He gets quick peaks of your face but a majority of his view is the back of your head as you go through the motions even faster. You hummed something that caused a jolt to go through his body. Your hand that was gripping his knee goes between his legs. Anton feels your soft hand massage his balls, and a cry rips through his throat. 

His sound bounces off your walls. He prays that your neighbors are sleeping. He can’t hold anything back when he leans in the seat to get a better look at your face. You’re too beautiful. Cheeks hollowed, eyes bleary. Your eyebrows are pulled together too as you focus. You take quick peaks up towards him and Anton bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. 

Anton feels you pull in against his push. You take him as far as you can. He can feel your throat tighten around his dick, and he pulses when you gag. Anton can feel even more mess, dribbling from your mouth and going down your chin. The mess makes your fingers wet, and he can feel it on his thigh too. 

You pull back completely and Anton feels relief in regaining the slightest bit of control. It all burns up when he looks down at you and sees you lick your lips.

Your eyes focus on him for a moment, the hunger making them seem completely black. He doesn’t realize he was holding his breath until your attention goes back to his dick. He was nearly shaking and his hand is still clutching your shoulder for dear life. But it doesn’t matter. It’s your hand that goes to his dick, collecting all the spit and precum to aid your movements.

The moment of composure is burnt up in seconds. He leans forward, grip becoming bruising on your shoulder. You don’t stop, your soft grip becoming tighter and tighter as you pick up the speed. The slick sounds fill his ears, your almost desperate stare as you look between him and his dick. 

“Baby please,” he begs.

“Are you close?” you ask.

Anton slouches towards you, head nodding pathetically as you refuse to  stop. The hair that’s not stuck to his forehead cascades down the sides of his face, narrowing his view. He gets tunnel vision, it’s just you and him and his dick throbbing uncontrollably because of you.

“Really close,” he whimpers. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

He really has changed. He’s never lacked as much control as he has in this moment. His entire body tightens, a thin layer of sweat appears over every inch of skin. Anton brings his head back down to look at you. He fully expected you to finally detach from him, to push yourself away by the hand you had gently clasped around his balls. He expected his hand over yours would cease your movements. 

But you didn’t pull back, you didn’t ease up in the slightest. Anton’s hand over yours didn’t stop yours from moving. You leaned in close to watch. You were looking between his dick and his face, and Anton felt his cheeks get hot. You bit your lip and Anton has to stop himself from putting a shaking leg around your body to bring you impossibly closer. You seemed to read his mind because you came in closer, wrapping your lips around his tip and suckling. 

Anton’s protest about not wanting to finish in your mouth only comes out in whimpers and groans. He was planning on pulling out of your mouth and cumming pitifully in his palm while repeating your name and telling you thank you. He ended up instead holding your shoulder the tightest he’s ever had while his balls tensed.

One final moan was punched out of his gut before the tension across his body finally snapped. Against everything he felt himself spill into your mouth in thick uncontrolled spurts. He could barely apologize through the broken whines and the shaking in his legs. Before he squeezed his eyes shut he watched you pause for a split second and your eyes go wide before continuing to work your hand faster. Anton couldn’t stop giving you more and more, until he was so drained he slouched even further.

He was breathing like he had run a mile. His entire body was stiff, his muscles cramping as he winced through all the sensations.

“I’m sorry,” Anton heaved as you looked at you. 

He was still catching his breath when he saw the pearly white remnants on the corner of your lips. His mouth was agape, he swallowed thickly and tried his best to not get so wound up again.

“I should’ve stopped you,” he says.

He melts down from the chair to sit on shaking legs beside you. He wipes away everything that dribbled past your lips, wiping it on his shirt.

“I didn’t wanna stop,” you say.

When you speak Anton sees that there’s not a trace of it in your mouth. He forces himself to believe that he shot blanks because reality would be too much for his poor, newly-devoted heart to take. He just smiles and brings your head close with a gentle hand to kiss your forehead. He kisses your temples next, then your cheeks, lines from one side of your chin until he lands a kiss right on your lips. 

He still feels twitchy when he pulls away and sees you looking at him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Anton smiles and nods. “did you?”

You nod, wiping your mouth with your own hand before looking down nervously. Anton feels the emotion too, his cheeks flushing again remembering how he was acting a few minutes prior. 

You stand up from beside him and Anton bends his neck to follow you. He watches you adjust your shirt and your shorts. 

Just like nothing happened you go back to fixing things around your room. Anton at some point swept some things from your desk. He tries to pick it up for you but you’re faster. He’s still impacted by his orgasm, he’s a little sluggish and has to lean on your chair for support when he gets back up. You zip around your room, not looking at him. He thinks about what to say. Before he would’ve teased you for avoiding eye contact and acting like he’s not in the room. Now, he’s antsy too, teetering around your room while you smooth out the sheets on your bed.

There’s silence. You continue smoothing out the same spot on your comforter, despite it being pressed flat without a single crease.

Anton takes it as his cue to leave. He looks for his pants on your floor, and is walking around your room like he could be kicked out any second.

“You know,” you start.

Anton stops and looks at you. He can only see your back from the way you’re turned, hands gently pressing into your comforter. 

“We could do something like this again,” you say, still looking at your sheets. “I enjoy our time together.”

Anton feels himself perk up. He has a shy smile that isn’t a lie and the hand that goes to the back of his head isn’t a facade.

“I enjoy our time together too,” he said. “I think we should actually spend more time together.”

You turn and lean your body against your bed. He doesn’t know why you look confused.

“Your other girls wouldn’t mind?” you ask.

Anton is shaking his head fast.

“No other girls,” he answers quickly.

“Oh. Okay,” you say. Your hands on your thighs are gentle, the same way they were around his dick. “well. I’ll call you, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Anton says. “I’ll be there. Whenever.” 

You nod again, and Anton melts from your smile. He watches you saunter across your room to the connecting bathroom.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth then go to bed,” you say.

You raise your eyebrows and Anton understands. He’s been delicately kicked out of places before. Anton grabs his pants and pulls them up his legs quick. He grabs his bag, everything that’s his and walks past you to your door. 

“I’ll see you in class,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you in class.”

Anton left your dorm before you went in the bathroom. He heard the gentle sound of the lock turning in place and couldn’t stop the smile from beaming across his face. He felt relieved and content, he didn’t mind what hour it was when he headed towards the exit.

Anton was not quiet going into his room. He was on cloud nine, and that made him a terrible roommate. He was practically levitating from your dorm to his. He didn’t know what time it was when he let the door close behind him. He barely remembered to turn the dead bolt, letting the lock click in place obnoxiously.

He turned on the lights to the entryway and unloaded his backpack onto the pegged rack by the front door. He walked through the room like he was drunk, a bleary smile and a grin ear to ear. He kicked off his shoes, the thick rubber soles making contact with the wooden floors.

He sauntered across the dimly lit space of his room. He made a beeline to Sohee’s lofted bed. 

“Sohee,” he whispered playfully.

When he finally made it to Sohee’s bed he stood there for a moment. The silence filled the air, Anton leaned close to the pile of covers that was his roommates body. He was still grinning ear to ear. 

“Sohee,” he said quietly.

The mess of hair peaking from the covers didn’t budge at all. Anton leaned a little forward, blowing air directly onto Sohee’s head. He watched his hairs part from the current, then he saw a small movement. He chased after the movement with his fingers, poking the comforter gently.

“Sohee,” he repeated. “wake up.”

His body moved underneath the covers. He heard a groan, then more shifting. He heard a body turning, then the covers slowly came down. Sohee was revealed, with his face scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut. He blinked even from the tiny amount of light in the room, adjusting to Anton in front of him and being torn out of an REM cycle. 

He immediately went to propping himself on his elbow. He rubbed his other hand down his face, ran it through his hair that was sticking up every which way.

“What’s going on,” he grumbled. 

Sohee canvassed the area in the room with his eyebrows scrunched. One eye was still squeezed shut, the other was barely open. He saw Sohee wake up more and more as he took in the look on his face.

“Sohee,” Anton repeated one more time. 

His roommate stopped moving to focus on him. Like he was keeping a secret and was too shy to spit it out, Anton balanced his head on top of his hands that were propped on the wooden edge of the bed frame. When he took too long to answer Sohee eyes darted back and forth like he might’ve missed what was said. 

“What?” he asked.

Anton was quiet for just a moment. Both of Sohee’s eyes were open now, staring at Anton waiting for something.

“I’m in love,” Anton answered.

Anton closed his eyes while he let the words sink in. He was so happy to vocalize it, he was so happy that Sohee was the first one to know.

When Anton opened his eyes he saw that the drowsiness and the confusion drained from Sohee’s face. He was just staring at Anton with his eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. He blinked a few times, and Anton felt his eyes flutter from how happy he was. Anton wasn’t affected by the lack of Sohee’s amusement. He continued to smile, he even felt the flush go across his cheeks at finally vocalizing his confession.

Sohee’s hand went to his forehead spanning from temple to temple to massage it gently. He did this for a minute. Anton let out a blissful sigh, then Sohee took his hand away from his head. He tilted his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Anton, I don’t have time for this.”

Sohee went back down to his pillow. Before he could bring the covers back up to his hairline Anton stopped him.

“I’m serious,” he said quickly.

“I don’t care if you’re serious or not.” Sohee says. 

He tries looking at the clock on Anton’s desk but he can’t see it. He squints, then gives up all together. Anton is still staring at him with a big smile on his face.

“It’s too late for this,” Sohee grumbles

“You don’t understand,” Anton said, leaning closer.

Anton was sure Sohee didn’t understand. So much had happened between the time he ghosted Sohee in the library to chase you to your dorm and you falling asleep on his chest after you rode him. 

Anton wanted to tell Sohee all of this. Or at the very least the abridged version of this. Before Anton could vocalize the type of night he had—because he was standing in front of Sohee with his lips parted as he recounted everything—Sohee stuck up a hand to stop him.

“I really don’t want to hear it,” he says.

Anton listens to his roommate. 

“I’m really in love,” Anton says. “you wouldn’t believe it.”

“You’re a whore and she’s a freak. A match made in nymphomanic heaven,” Sohee mumbles.

Sohee turns over in his bed and pulls his covers up. Anton doesn’t pull back, instead he stays beside the wooden bed frame. 

“She said that we are going to hang out more,” Anton said wistfully.

Sohee stops adjusting in the bed. 

“Like as a couple, or like” Sohee looks up to the ceiling and moves his hands in a vague gesture. 

“As a couple, I hope.”

“Well,” Sohee turns back on the mattress to look at Anton. “does she know that?” he asks.

For the first time Anton is pulled out of his idyllic haze. Him wanting to see you again should’ve been sentiment enough. You said yourself that you wanted to see him again. But Anton never got the chance to actually tell you that he was retiring from the cause solely to cater to you. He was lost in the bliss of having you touch him and be in your space. 

Sohee seems to notice because he smiles and points to his face. 

“Maybe you’re the one who’s going to get played now,” Sohee says smiling.

Anton smacks Sohee’s hand out of his face.

“I never was playing anyone,” he says factually. “I was always very upfront with all the girls I saw.”

“Well, now you have to upfront with one more,” Sohee says factually. “probably more upfront than you’ve ever had to be.”

There’s silence between the two of them. Sohee laughs again when Anton finally retreats from his bed to get ready to lay down. He takes off his shirt that smells like you and takes off his pants, all while thinking about what his next steps should be. He hears his roommate laugh at his contemplation.

“I’ll be upfront with her tomorrow,” Anton says when he sits on the edge of his bed. “I think I’ll tell her at the dining hall.”

Sohee fully laughs at that. Anton looks up at him to watch him cover his face as he tries to contain his laughter. 

“Anton. You are such a romantic,” he laughs.

Anton lays down hearing Sohee’s laugh devolve into quiet chuckles. 

“I don’t even want to know what y’all were doing in her room,” Sohee laughs even harder, the delirium getting to him. “I don’t even wanna know a little bit.”

You kept waiting for the shoe to drop. For Nicholas to make a comment. For one of them to look at you differently. But the day passed in the same careful rhythm as before.

And so did the day after that, and the one after that. Before you knew it, a week had passed without incident. The next few nights blurred into the same pattern you had come accustom too before Nicholas fucked you raw. 

The apartment breathes around you in that hushed, late-night way—dim lights, faint hum of the fridge, the lingering warmth of laundry detergent drifting down the hallway. Your feet drag heavier than usual, sneakers kicked off by the door with a soft thud that feels too loud in the quiet. Every muscle aches from the endless shift, shoulders tight, calves burning, but underneath it all there’s still that low, persistent throb between your thighs. A week. A whole week of pretending Nicholas hadn’t pinned you down and fucked you until you blacked out, sobbing his name like a broken prayer. A week of EJ’s gentle smiles and perfectly made matcha, K’s quiet smiles, Fuma’s dark gaze lingering just a second too long. Normal. Too normal. It made the soreness feel like a dirty little secret you carried alone.

You pad toward your room on feet that ache and a uniform far too tight. The door is ajar—only a crack, but enough for the soft glow of your bedside lamp to spill out into the hallway. You don’t remember leaving it on. 

You also remember closing your bedroom door before you left for work. Too tired to think that this is weird—maybe it was an accident. Just like everything before.

But that illusion lasts exactly five seconds.

There he is. 

EJ.

Kneeling beside your bed like he belongs there, broad shoulders curved forward under the familiar tan sweater, baggy jeans covering his long legs. The lamplight catches on his glasses, sliding them down the bridge of his nose as he leans in closer to your open drawer—the one where you keep the delicate things. Your panties.

He’s got a handful already. The pale pink lace you thought you’d lost weeks ago. The soft pastel blue with the tiny bow. Even the plain white cotton dotted with cheerful little bunnies that always made you feel stupidly innocent. They’re all clutched in one large hand. 

Your breath catches—sharp, involuntary.

EJ stills.

For a heartbeat the room is perfectly silent, Then he turns his head, brown eyes meeting yours through the cracked door, that soft, youthful face flushing pink. The gentle smile you know so well curves his lips, warm and reassuring. 

“Y/n…” he breathes, voice honey-soft, almost shy. He doesn’t drop the panties. Doesn’t scramble to hide. He rises to his full height, all that gentle length unfolding until he towers over your much smaller frame in the doorway, rolling his shoulders in that easy, familiar way that makes the tan sweater shift softly across his chest, the pile of your stolen underwear still in his hands. like a confession. “You’re home… earlier than I expected tonight.”

He drops down the fabric, hands come up in a small, almost apologetic gesture, palms open. “They got mixed in with my laundry again,” he says quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one long finger. The flush on his cheeks deepens just a touch, but his eyes stay soft behind the lenses, earnest and warm. “I… I was only bringing them back. I didn’t want you to worry about missing things. You work so hard, and I know how much you like these ones. The little bunnies… they’re cute. Like you.”

His voice lingers on that last word, soft as a caress, and for a moment it almost sounds innocent. Almost.

You stand there, heart hammering against your ribs, thighs pressing together instinctively as that familiar ache flares hotter between your legs. He’s so tall. So close. The way he looks at you—kind, thoughtful, like he’d do anything to make your life easier—makes something in your chest flutter even as your mind screams that this isn’t right. That the faint scent clinging to those returned panties weeks ago hadn’t been just detergent.

EJ steps closer, slow and careful, like he’s approaching something fragile. His hand brushes your arm, light as a feather, guiding you just a little further into the room. “You look tired,” he murmurs, that reassuring smile never wavering. “Long shift again? Let me make you something warm before bed.”

He slips past you then, the tan sweater brushing your shoulder in a whisper of fabric and warmth, his taller frame crowding the narrow space for just a moment too long. You don’t see it—the quick, practiced flick of his fingers as he tucks one pair (the pale pink lace, of course, the one that always felt too pretty for everyday) into the pocket of his jeans before turning the corner toward the kitchen.

The door clicks shut behind him, softly. 

You sink onto the edge of your bed, knees weak, breath coming in shallow little bursts that make your uniform shirt ride up against your ribs. The drawer sits half-open, the remaining panties slightly rumpled, as if his hands had lingered. Your mind spins—he was just returning them. He’s always so thoughtful. EJ. Kind EJ who makes your matcha exactly how you like it, who washes everyone’s laundry without complaint, who smiles like he’d never hurt a soul.

But the ache between your legs pulses in time with your heartbeat, tender and slick and traitorously empty. You squeeze your thighs together harder, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to the memory of his tall frame looming over you, the gentle flush on his cheeks, the way his voice had curled around “like you” like a promise.

Minutes blur. The faint clink of a mug in the kitchen drifts down the hall, followed by the low hum of the kettle. You should change. You should lock the door. You should pretend this never happened, the same way you’ve pretended about Nicholas, about the missing pairs that kept vanishing and reappearing with that strange, clinging scent.

But when EJ returns, the steam from the mug curling around his fingers like an offering, he doesn’t knock. He just pushes the door open wider with his hip, stepping inside as if the space is his to enter. The tan sweater is gone now—replaced by a simple black tank that clings to his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest, gym shorts riding low on his hips the way K’s sometimes do after training. His hair is slightly tousled, glasses still perched on his nose, that boyish smile in place as he sets the mug on your nightstand.

“Warm milk with a little honey,” he says softly, voice dropping into that reassuring register that always makes you feel safe. “It helps after long shifts. Drink up, y/n. You deserve to relax.”

The steam from the mug curls lazy and sweet between you, warmth brushing your cheeks and nose as EJ sets it down with that same careful precision he uses for everything—laundry, matcha, the way his fingers had brushed your arm like you are nothing but precious. He lingers—just for a second though, a second longer than necessary. His tall frame bent slightly over your smaller one, the black tank top stretching across his chest as he straightens. His eyes remain soft behind the glasses, offering you that sweet smile that for some reason feels not as sweet as it did weeks ago. now just feels awfully sour, but you swallow it down. It’s just Ej.

“Drink that before it gets cold, okay?” he murmurs, voice like smooth silk. One last gentle brush of his knuckles against your shoulder, then he steps back, the gym shorts shifting low on his hips with the movement. “Goodnight, Y/n. Sweet dreams.”

He slips out without another word, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that leaves the room feeling suddenly too large, too empty. The pale pink lace is gone—tucked warm against his thigh somewhere down the hall—and the drawer sits half-open like a quiet confession. One you refuse to acknowledge.

You sit there on the edge of the bed for a long moment, uniform still clinging to your sweaty skin, heart hammering in uneven rhythms while the ache between your legs pulses hot and insistent, slick and tender and utterly traitorous. He was just being kind. Just Ej. The words loop in your head, soft and reassuring, even as your body remembers the way his thumb had circled your thigh, the way his taller frame had crowded you so gently it felt like drowning in slow motion.

You peel off the uniform at last, movements sluggish and heavy, letting the fabric pool on the floor before tugging on an oversized shirt and the softest sleep shorts you own—the ones that ride up just enough to remind you of every sore, used inch of you. The milk goes down in slow, obedient sips, sweet and warm, settling heavy in your stomach like a lullaby. The lamp clicks off. Darkness folds around you, thick and quiet, and you crawl beneath the covers, thighs pressing together tight in a futile attempt to ease the persistent throb.

Sleep drags you under in shallow waves. Hours slip by unnoticed.Then the need to pee pulls you awake, bladder insistent, body heavy with exhaustion. 

You slip from the bed without turning on the light, bare feet padding silently down the hallway, oversized hoodie swallowing your smaller frame, sleep shorts barely covering the curve of your ass. The apartment breathes around you in that late-night hush—fridge hum, distant city murmur beyond the windows—everything still and safe.

Until you round the corner toward the bathroom and collide straight into a solid wall of warmth.

Fuma.

He’s there in the dim hallway light spilling from the living room, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, the soft fabric doing nothing—absolutely nothing—to hide the heavy outline of him beneath. No shirt. Just miles of smooth, toned skin stretched over quiet muscle, broad shoulders and a chest that rises slow and steady as he steadies you with one large hand wrapping around your upper arm. His dark hair falls slightly messy over his forehead, and those sharp eyes—usually half-lidded with that quiet intensity—flick down to take you in, lingering on the way your big shirt barely covers the bare stretch of thigh exposed by your sleep shorts, the faint tremble in your smaller body pressed momentarily against his.

The contact is brief but electric. Your chest brushes his abdomen, soft and yielding against hard warmth, and you feel the heat of him—his skin, the faint musk of clean sweat and something darker, earthier, that clings to him after whatever late-night game or workout he’d been doing. His legs spread just a fraction wider in those grey sweatpants, the thick muscle of his thighs flexing as he holds you steady, keeping you from stumbling back.

You freeze, heart slamming against your ribs, the ache between your legs flaring hotter at the sudden closeness, at the sheer size of him looming over your much smaller frame. Nicholas had wrecked you with rough demand; EJ had teased with gentle patience. Fuma… Fuma just looks at you, dark gaze heavy and unreadable, the corner of his mouth twitching in the barest hint of something that isn’t quite a smile.

“Careful,” he says, voice low and rough from disuse, rumbling through his chest in a way that vibrates against you for the split second you’re still pressed there. His hand doesn’t immediately let go—fingers warm and firm around your arm, thumb brushing once, slow, along the soft skin just below your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.”

He towers. Easily. The grey sweatpants hang loose but cling in all the wrong—right—places, the heavy bulge shifting slightly as he adjusts his stance, legs still spread in that casual, commanding way he sits in the armchair during game nights. You can’t help the way your eyes dip for half a heartbeat, the outline too obvious, too thick, making your pussy clench around nothing. How the hell does he walk around with that?

Fuma notices your eyes wander. Of course he does. His gaze darkens, just a fraction. But he doesn’t comment. Not yet. Instead, he releases your arm with deliberate slowness, the loss of his warmth leaving a ghost of heat on your skin, and steps back just enough to give you space—though his taller frame still fills the hallway, still crowds the narrow passage in that quiet, heavy way of his.

“Bathroom’s free,” he murmurs, nodding toward the door behind him, voice dropping even lower, almost gentle but threaded with something heavier, something that makes the air feel thicker. His eyes flick back to your face, dark and steady, holding yours for a beat too long. “You okay? Look a little… flushed.”

The words hang there, simple and concerned on the surface, but the way his gaze drags down your body again—slow, deliberate—says otherwise. The grey sweatpants do nothing to hide how he’s half-hard already, the thick line of him pressing against the soft fabric like an invitation you’re not sure you’re ready for. Your smaller body feels even tinier in comparison, thighs still sore from Nicholas, still tingling from EJ’s teasing touches, now caught in the hallway with Fuma’s quiet intensity wrapping around you like smoke.

You mumble a small and breathless apology, and try to slip past him toward the bathroom. But the hallway is narrow. His frame barely moves. Your hip brushes the front of those grey sweatpants as you squeeze by, the brief contact sending a jolt straight to your core, his low exhale brushing the top of your head like a secret.

He doesn’t stop you.

But as you reach the bathroom door, fingers trembling on the handle, you feel his eyes on your back—dark, patient, heavy with the same quiet weight that makes the apartment feel smaller every time he’s near. The ache pulses harder now, insistent and needy, your sleep shorts suddenly feeling far too thin, far too short against the cool air and the memory of his hand on your arm, his thighs so close, the undeniable size of him barely contained.

Behind you, Fuma’s voice drifts down the hall, low and unhurried, almost casual but laced with that subtle command only he seems to carry without trying.

“Sleep well, y/n. Don’t let the quiet fool you… we’re always around when you need us.”

The bathroom door clicks shut, but the heat in your veins doesn’t fade. Not even close.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to steady your breathing, trying to ignore the way your pussy throbs, the way your nipples have peaked against the hoodie, sensitive and aching. When you finally slip back out, the hallway is empty again—Fuma gone, melted back into the shadows of the living room or his room, grey sweatpants and all.

But the air still feels charged. The apartment still breathes with them—EJ’s gentle patience, Nicholas’s lazy filth, K’s quiet smiles, and now Fuma’s heavy, unspoken presence pressing in from every corner.

You crawl back into bed, thighs squeezed tight, heart racing, the soreness and the new heat twisting together until sleep claims you once more… restless, dreaming of tall frames and grey sweatpants and hands that linger just a little too long in the dark.

Morning arrives wrapped in the same careful illusion. Matcha waits on the counter, sweet enough that you can’t taste the grassy flavour. EJ greets you with that boyish smile, dark blue hoodie soft over his broad shoulders, glasses slipping down his nose as he slides the mug toward you. “Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice honey-warm, eyes crinkling with the same gentle concern that makes your stomach flutter even as your pussy clenches at the memory of his fingers wrapped around your intimates. “Do you have work this weekend?” Nicholas asks mouth full of eggs, sticking his fork into your gyeran-mari to steal another bite of your breakfast, acting like he hadn’t fucked you stupid a week ago. 

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the cold mug. The soreness between your thighs pulses faintly at the sound of his voice, a dirty little reminder you can’t seem to escape.

“No,” you murmur, clearing your throat before speaking up slightly, “I’m off.”

The words feel dangerous the second they leave your mouth.

K, who had been quietly sipping his americano by the counter, sets his cup down with a soft clink. His tall frame shifts, gentle youthful features softening as he looks at you with a soft sweet smile.

“We should watch a movie together tonight,” he says smoothly, voice low and even, almost thoughtful. “As a roommate bonding activity. It’s been a while since all of us just…sat down and relaxed—I’ll even buy the popcorn.”

The suggestion lands softly, innocently, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But the way his eyes linger on you—dark, steady, knowing—makes the air feel thicker. Like he’s already imagining how small you’ll look tucked between them on the big couch.

EJ’s smile brightens as he sits beside you, still so soft and warm. “That sounds nice,” he says gently, pushing his glasses up. “We can keep the lights low. Pick something calm. You’ve been working so hard lately, sweetheart… you deserve to relax with us.”

Nicholas leans back in his chair, silver chain catching the light as he smirks around another stolen bite of your food. “I’m in. Long as there’s food.”

Fuma hums in agreement, eyes never quite leaving his switch or maybe because you are turned around—you just don't feel his dark gaze eyeing the shorts that ride up your thighs.

You sit there, heart hammering against your ribs, thighs pressed tightly together under the counter. The ache from Nicholas hasn’t faded. The memory of EJ breathing in your panties still burns behind your eyes. And now K—calm, patient, sweet K—is suggesting a movie night like it’s just harmless roommate bonding. 

The apartment feels smaller already.

You force a small nod, voice barely audible.

“…Okay.”

EJ’s hand brushes your arm under the table, light and reassuring.

“Perfect,” he whispers, so softly only you can hear it. “We’ll take care of everything.”

The day drags in that strange, suspended way — every hour stretching longer, every minute laced with the quiet knowledge of what’s waiting for you tonight. You try to distract yourself. You try to pretend it’s normal. But the ache between your legs never quite settles, and every time you shift, you feel the ghost of Nicholas’s hands, EJ’s lingering stare, K’s patient gaze, Fuma’s heavy silence.

By the time evening falls, the living room has been transformed just enough to feel intentional.

The big sectional couch is arranged with extra pillows and that massive blanket EJ loves. The lights are low, warm and golden, casting long shadows across the walls. Takeout bags cover the coffee table — fried chicken, pizza, snacks K actually went out and bought like he promised. The TV hums softly, waiting for someone to pick something.

You hesitate in the doorway, hoodie swallowing your frame, sleep shorts barely peeking out underneath. You feel small. Exposed.

K pats the cushion between him and EJ with that calm, gentle smile.

“Here,” he says quietly. “Sit with us.”

Your heart stutters.

You move anyway.

The moment you sink down between them, the blanket is pulled over your lap — K on your left, EJ on your right. Their thighs press against yours immediately. Warm. Solid. Unmoving. K’s long leg brushes yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric. EJ’s shoulder rests lightly against yours, his hand slipping under the blanket to rest innocently on your knee.

Nicholas sprawls on the far side of K, arm draped casually along the back of the couch. Fuma takes the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, eyes already locked on you.

“How do you feel about horror, shortie?” Nicholas says, flicking through a catalogue. 

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Great.” He grins, selecting some recent horror film, the kind that makes you jump and press closer without meaning to.

The movie starts, opening credits bleeding across the screen in crimson letters. You barely register them. The room feels too warm. Too close. Your pulse is already a traitor, fluttering wildly in your throat as you try to focus on the screen.

But you attempt to relax and let the horror swallow you whole.

Until—

K’s hand moves.

It starts so innocently under the heavy blanket, his palm settling high on your thigh like it belongs there. Warm fingers trace slow, absent circles over the soft fabric of your shorts. Round and round in soothing circles. Like he’s simply grounding you during a scary scene. You don’t even register it at first—too caught up in the movie’s rising dread. The circles drift lower after a while, lazy spirals that slip down the length of your thigh, then back up, each pass taking him a little farther inward.

Still, you’re half-lost in the film. A sudden jump scare makes you flinch, and that’s when his touch shifts again—sliding beneath the hem of your shorts, callused fingertips now drawing those same slow circles on the bare, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Higher. Closer. The heat of his hand bleeds straight into you. Your pulse kicks up, but you try to stay focused on the screen, cheeks warming as his fingers tease the edge of your panties with every deliberate pass.

Then—his fingertip brushes right over the front of your crotch of your shorts.

Just once. Feather-light. A slow drag along the cotton that sends electricity snapping up your spine.

You jolt.

A tiny, involuntary twitch of your hips—sharp enough that your breath catches audibly. Heat floods your face. 

EJ turns toward you, his hand tightening slightly on your knee. “You okay?” he whispers, voice soft and concerned behind his glasses, brown eyes searching your face.

The words almost tumble out of your mouth—yes, I’m fine, it’s nothing—but they die instantly.

K’s fingers pinch the soft flesh of your inner thigh, hard. A sharp, warning bloom of pain that makes your eyes water and your throat close. You swallow the sound, swallow everything, and simply nod, quick and small, forcing your gaze back to the flickering screen even as heat floods your face.

The words almost slip out from your mouth but are halted as K pinches your thigh hard enough for you to swallow what you were going to say. You simply nod, attempting to focus back on the movie even as K’s finger returns, slower this time, tracing the seam of your shorts like he’s memorizing you, pressing a firm little circle right over your swollen clit through the fabric.

You keep your eyes glued to the screen, cheeks warm, pretending the tension coiling low in your belly is from the movie and not the way K’s fingers are now drawing those same slow circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Bare now—his hand has slipped beneath the hem of your shorts without you realizing, calluses grazing soft flesh. The circles grow wider, lazier, teasing the edge of your panties with every pass. Your legs tremble faintly. You press them together on instinct, but his hand keeps solid and unmoving, keeps them open just enough.

Your thighs tremble. You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste copper.

Another jump scare explodes across the television and you jolt again—smaller this time, but K uses it as cover. His long fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties, finally, finally touching bare skin. The first glide of his fingertips through your slick folds is devastatingly gentle. Wet sounds are swallowed by the movie’s screams. No one hears. No one sees.

Except him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” K breathes against your ear, so quiet it’s almost nothing. His voice is velvet and smoke, warm praise that sinks straight into your gut. “All this for me already, baby? Just from a few little touches over your shorts?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your breath hitches as two thick fingers part your folds and drag upward, spreading your wetness, teasing your entrance before sliding back to rub slow, firm circles over your clit. The pressure is perfect. Too perfect. Your hips twitch forward on instinct and he rewards you with a deeper stroke, the pad of his middle finger wiggling just to dip it inside you—barely breaching but just enough to make your walls flutter greedily around the tip.

EJ’s hand is still on your knee. He hasn’t moved it. His thumb strokes once, twice, almost absentmindedly, but you feel his gaze linger on the side of your face a second longer than before. You keep your eyes locked on the screen, cheeks burning hotter than the low lamplight.

K curls his finger deeper on the next pass, sinking in to the first knuckle, then the second. The stretch is slow, deliberate, his thick digit filling you so easily because you’re embarrassingly wet. A tiny, broken sound tries to escape your throat and you choke it back just in time.

His lips brush your temple again. “Good girl. So quiet for me. Taking my fingers like you were made for it.”

He adds a second finger without warning—slow, so slow—scissoring gently as he pumps them in and out in time with the movie’s haunting rhythm. The wet, obscene sounds are hidden beneath the blanket and the film’s audio, but you can hear them. God, you can hear them. Every slick glide. Every tiny squelch as he fucks you open on his hand, right there between EJ and the others.

Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, greedy and aching. Slick drips down his knuckles, soaking your shorts. Your legs shake. You press them wider without meaning to, and K rewards you by pressing the heel of his palm against your clit while his fingers curl deep, stroking that spongy spot inside you that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes.

EJ leans in slightly, voice soft. “You sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”

K’s fingers thrust harder for just a second—punishment and pleasure at once—before slowing again, innocent as ever. You manage a shaky nod, lips pressed tight, eyes glassy.

Nicholas chuckles from the other side of K, lazy and low. “She’s probably just scared. Cute.”

Fuma says nothing. But when you risk a glance, his dark eyes are fixed on you, heavy and knowing, like he can see straight through the blanket.

K doesn’t stop. He never stops. His fingers keep fucking into you in that maddeningly slow rhythm—deep, curling, dragging—while his thumb finds your clit and rubs tight, slick circles. The pleasure builds like a wave you can’t outrun, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

You’re so close already. Pathetically close.

And K knows it.

He leans in one last time, lips against your ear, whispering so sweetly it makes your heart ache and your cunt throb.

“Hold it for me, baby. Don’t cum yet. We’ve got the whole movie left… and I’m nowhere near done playing with you.”

The pleasure coils tighter, vicious and sweet, every slow thrust of K’s thick fingers dragging you closer to the edge only for him to ease back at the last second—cruel, perfect control. Your walls flutter desperately around him, sucking him deeper with every wet glide, but he keeps you right there. Suspended. Aching. The horror movie’s screams blend with the pounding of your own pulse until you can’t tell which is louder.

You’re trembling now. Small, helpless shivers that you try to hide by sinking deeper into the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your fists. Sweat beads at the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in shallow, shaky little puffs that fog the cool air in front of you.

K’s lips stay pressed to your temple, breathing you in like he’s savoring how badly you’re falling apart for him.

“Such a good little slut,” he whispers, so soft, so fond it almost sounds loving. “Clenching so tight around my fingers… you want to cum, don’t you, baby? Want to soak my hand while everyone watches the movie?”

You nod before you can stop yourself—tiny, frantic—and he chuckles darkly against your skin, the sound vibrating straight down to where he’s buried knuckle-deep inside you.

He curls his fingers again, stroking that devastating spot with devastating precision, thumb rolling firm circles over your swollen clit. The wet sounds are louder now, obscene little schlicks that make your ears burn with shame. Slick drips steadily down his wrist, soaking into the blanket, into your ruined shorts. You’re a mess. His mess.

EJ shifts beside you as he hears a small whine escape you.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs, voice honey-sweet and concerned for the others’ ears. To you, it sounds like sin. “Poor thing… is the movie too scary?”

You can’t answer. K chooses that exact moment to thrust his fingers harder, faster for three devastating strokes—then stops completely, buried deep, simply letting you throb and clench around him while he holds you on the razor’s edge. You cling to his arm, nails digging into his skin.

A broken whimper tries to claw its way up your throat. You bite your lip bloody to keep it inside.

Nicholas stretches lazily on the other side of K, arm still slung along the back of the couch. “She’s shaking like a leaf. Cute as hell.” His eyes flick toward you, lazy smirk sharpening for just a second before he turns back to the screen.

The pleasure coils tighter, vicious and sweet, every slow thrust of K’s thick fingers dragging you closer to the edge only for him to ease back at the last second—cruel, perfect control. Your walls flutter desperately around him, sucking him deeper with every wet glide, but he keeps you right there. Suspended. Aching. The horror movie’s screams blend with the pounding of your own pulse until you can’t tell which is louder.

You’re trembling now. Small, helpless shivers that you try to hide by sinking deeper into the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your fists. Sweat beads at the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in shallow, shaky little puffs that fog the cool air in front of you.

K’s lips stay pressed to your temple, breathing you in like he’s savoring how badly you’re falling apart for him.

EJ shifts beside you, murmuring something soft about the movie, but his hand stays innocently on your knee. Nicholas laughs low at some jump scare. Fuma watches the screen in silence. None of them know.

And K knows that, so he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you harder with those two thick fingers—deeper, faster, relentless now—curling and dragging right against that perfect spot while his thumb presses firm, merciless circles over your throbbing clit. No more teasing. No more holding back. The rhythm turns filthy and sure, like he’s decided you’ve earned it.

“Let go,” he breathes against your ear, voice low and velvet-rough, lips brushing your skin like a secret promise. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like the needy little whore you are. Right here. Right now.”

The coil snaps. Hard.

Pleasure crashes through you in a blinding, white-hot wave—violent and endless. Your pussy clenches hard around his thick fingers, pulsing, fluttering, gushing slick heat all over his hand and wrist as you come undone right there between them. A broken, choked sob slips past your bitten lips before you can catch it; you bury your face into K’s shoulder to muffle the sound, body shaking violently against his. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your back arches slightly. Sparks explode behind your eyes and the world narrows to nothing but the devastating stretch of his fingers and the slick, filthy sounds of your release soaking everything beneath the blanket.

K doesn’t pull away.

He keeps fucking you through it—slow, deep thrusts that drag every last shuddering pulse from your ruined cunt, thumb still working your oversensitive clit in tight, slick circles until you’re twitching and whimpering, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. More slick drips down his wrist, warm and obscene, ruining your shorts completely. You feel it everywhere. You feel him everywhere.

“That’s it… good girl,” he murmurs, soft and sweet against your temple, pressing a gentle kiss there like he didn’t just wreck you in front of everyone. “Look at you falling apart so prettily for me. Soaking my whole hand… fuck, you’re perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

Your orgasm stretches on and on, smaller waves rippling through you as he gentles his touch but doesn’t pull out—just stays buried deep inside your fluttering heat, letting you clench and throb around him while the aftershocks wreck you. Your chest heaves. Your legs feel boneless. The movie screams on, loud and chaotic, covering every tiny broken sound you make.

K finally stills his fingers, buried to the hilt, holding you full and claimed. His thumb strokes one last soothing circle over your sensitive clit before resting heavy against your mound.

The aftershocks are still rippling through you, slow and treacherous, when the panic finally claws its way up your throat.

You can’t stay here. Not like this—ruined, soaked, trembling, with K’s thick fingers still buried deep inside your fluttering cunt and his cum-slick hand claiming every messy inch of you under the blanket. Your cheeks burn hotter than the low lamplight. Your legs feel like they might give out the second you try to move, but you have to.

You shift. Weakly.

K’s fingers curl once more—lazy, possessive—before he finally, mercifully slips them out of you with a wet, obscene sound that makes your stomach twist. He drags them slowly up your slit one last time, spreading your release, before pulling his hand free entirely. You feel the cool air hit your drenched panties and ruined shorts, the unmistakable warmth of your own slick sliding down your thighs.

Your heart hammers.

You suck in a shaky breath, force your body upright, and pretend that you aren’t still reeling from an orgasm.

A big, dramatic yawn stretches your mouth wide, eyes fluttering half-shut like the movie has drained every last bit of energy from you—voice comes out small, hoarse, edged with the remnants of that devastating orgasm.

“I… I’m really tired,” you mumble, already pushing the blanket off your lap, hoodie sleeves tugged low to hide the flush crawling down your neck. “Long day. Think I’m gonna head to bed early…”

You stand too fast.

The room tilts a bit and your knees wobble dangerously—highs slick and sticky, the soaked fabric of your shorts clinging obscenely between your legs. For one terrifying second you think you might actually fall, but you catch yourself on the arm of the couch, cheeks flaming.

K’s hand brushes the back of your thigh as you move—innocent to anyone watching, but you feel the silent promise in the way his fingers linger, sticky with you. His voice is low, calm, almost concerned. “You sure, baby? Movie’s not even over.”

EJ glances up, that gentle smile in place, glasses catching the TV light. “Rest well. We’ll save you some snacks.”

Nicholas just smirks, lazy and knowing, eyes dragging over your shaky frame for half a second too long. “Night, shortie. Sweet dreams.”

Fuma wishes you a small “Goodnight,” watching you with those dark, heavy eyes.

You don’t wait for other words to be said, you simply rush past them.

Bare feet padding quickly across the floor, heart pounding so loud you’re so sure they can hear it even amongst the screams coming from the tv. Every step makes your ruined panties rub against your oversensitive clit, sends another humiliating little aftershock through your core. Slick trails down the inside of your thigh and you pray no one notices the shine under the low lights.

You finally make it to your room, you fall onto your plush sheets, thighs squeezing together as another weak pulse of pleasure echoes through you.

K’s finger soaked in your release. His soft voice in your ear. The way you fell apart right there between all of them.

And you’re still dripping.

You fall onto your plush sheets in a boneless heap, hoodie discarded somewhere on the floor, thighs squeezing tight together as another weak, traitorous pulse echoes through your core. The room is dark and quiet, but your body refuses to settle. Every shift of fabric against your soaked cunt sends sparks skittering up your spine. K’s thick fingers. His velvet voice whispering good girl against your temple. The way you came so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder while the others laughed at the movie.

Sleep doesn’t even try to come.

You toss and turn, sheets tangling around your legs, skin too hot, mind too loud. The ache between your thighs only deepens, a slow, needy throb that makes you whimper softly into the pillow. Minutes bleed into what feels like hours. Eventually you give up, pushing yourself up with a frustrated sigh. A cold shower. That’s what you need. Something icy to shock your body back into calm.

The good bathroom—the one with the rainfall showerhead and decent water pressure—is down the hall. Right past EJ’s room.

You pad out barefoot in just your thin tank top and damp sleep shorts, arms wrapped around yourself like that could hide how thoroughly you’ve been used tonight. The hallway dark. Everyone’s probably gone to bed but you still keep your steps quiet, and careful.

Then you hear it.

Soft. Breathless.

“…y/n…”

Your name, wrapped in that gentle, honey-sweet voice you know too well. You freeze mid-step, heart slamming against your ribs. It couldn’t be. You keep walking, telling yourself it was all in your head, maybe even the wind, anything. Anything but that.

But it comes again, lower this time, rougher, edged with a groan that sinks straight between your legs.

“Fuck…so pretty, my girl…”

Curiosity burns hotter than the shame buzzing through you. You slow, breath shallow, and drift closer to his door—left slightly ajar, a thin slice of warm lamplight spilling out like an invitation you shouldn’t accept. You press yourself to the wall, pulse roaring in your ears, and peek inside.

The sight steals the air from your lungs.

Ej is sprawled back against his headboard, long legs spread wide, sweatpants shoved down just enough to free his thick, flushed cock. He’s beautiful even like this—messy brown hair falling into his eyes, glasses fogged, cheeks flushed pink. One fist strokes slowly up and down his leaking length, thumb swirling over the glistening head on every upstroke. In his other hand, pressed tight to his face like a sacred thing, is a pair of your panties. Pale pink lace. The ones that disappeared weeks ago.

He inhales deeply, nose buried in the crotch, eyes fluttering half-shut in bliss. His tongue drags out, slow and filthy, licking along the fabric where your dried slick still lingers. A low, wrecked moan vibrates from his chest as his hips jerk up into his fist.

“Such a sweet girl," he whispers into your stolen panties, voice dripping with that same gentle tone he uses when he makes you matcha. “Mmh… taste so good...”

His strokes speed up, obscene and wet, precum slicking his fist as he fucks into it harder. Your name falls from his lips again—raw, desperate, almost worshipful. He sucks on the lace, eyes rolling back, hips stuttering. The gentle, thoughtful EJ who folds your laundry and brushes your lower back is gone. In his place is something darker. Hungrier. Two-faced and depraved.

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up. You take one shaky step back—then another—heart hammering so loud you’re sure it’d give you away. The hallway floor is cold beneath your bare feet, unforgiving. You turn just slightly, trying to slip silently into the shadows.

But your heel catches the edge of the small decorative table pressed against the wall—the one with the stupid ceramic bowl no one ever uses. It scrapes. Loud. Sharp.

A tiny gasp slips from your lips before you can stop it.

The sound cuts through the quiet hallway like a blade.

Inside the room, everything freezes.

EJ’s hand stills mid-stroke, cock twitching hard in his grip, flushed and leaking. His eyes snap open, dark and glassy behind fogged glasses. For one terrifying heartbeat, the only sound is the wet, heavy pant of his breathing and the low hum of the distant TV.

Then—slowly, deliberately—he lowers your panties from his face. His lips are shiny, spit-slick from sucking on the lace. That gentle, boyish smile creeps across his mouth, but his eyes… his eyes are pure hunger.

“Baby?” His voice is soft. Sweet. The same tone he uses when he brings you matcha in the mornings. “Is that you out there?”

You can’t move. Your legs feel welded to the floor, thighs still sticky with your own release from K’s fingers, pussy clenching shamefully at the sound of his voice.

The bed creaks. Footsteps—quiet, padded. Then EJ appears in the doorway, sweatpants barely tugged back up over his still-hard cock, the thick outline obvious and obscene. Your stolen pink panties dangle from his long fingers like a trophy.

He looks at you. Really looks. Flushed cheeks, messy hair, wide terrified eyes, the way your thin tank top clings to your breasts and your ruined shorts stick to your thighs. His gaze drags down slowly, lingering on your thighs pressed together.

A low, fond chuckle slips out of him.

“Baby…” he murmurs, voice so sweet it almost hurts, the same he uses when he asks if you slept well. “You’re shaking.”

His knuckle traces another feather-light path down the side of your neck, barely there, yet it feels like fire licking across your skin. He tilts his head, studying the flush blooming across your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls too fast beneath your thin tank top.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he whispers, almost shy, like he’s embarrassed instead of thrilled. “Heard me moaning your name while I fucked my fist with these…” He lifts the panties again, slow and deliberate, pressing the soaked crotch to his nose once more. Inhales deep. His lashes flutter. A quiet, broken little sound escapes him.

“So sweet,” he breathes against the lace, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Even the ones you wore all day… I can’t stop. I try, baby, I really do. But then I think about how tiny you are, how soft and warm and wet you must get when you’re all alone in your room… and I just—”

His voice cracks, gentle and wrecked, but his fingers hook a little firmer into the waistband of your shorts now. Not pulling them down. Not yet. Just tugging, letting the drenched fabric drag lazily over your oversensitive clit in one slow, torturous pass.

You whimper. The noise slipping from your lips because you simply can't help it.

EJ’s smile softens even more, all concern and tenderness, but his eyes burn darker.

“Poor thing,” he coos, thumb brushing your lower lip like he’s comforting you. “You’re still dripping from whatever happened on the couch, aren’t you? Mmm, I heard the little sounds you tried to hide… felt how the blanket was moving.”

He leans in until his breath ghosts warm over your ear, lips brushing the shell.

“I’ve been so patient, sweetheart. Folding your laundry every night, stealing just one pair at a time so you wouldn’t notice… jerking off for hours with them pressed to my face while I imagine burying my tongue so deep inside this pretty little cunt you’d forget how to speak.”

His fingers press a fraction firmer against your heat through the soaked cotton, rubbing slow, lazy circles that make your knees buckle.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispers, voice still so soft, so loving it twists something filthy in your stomach. “Do you want to run back to your room and pretend this never happened? Or…”

He pulls back just enough to meet your wide, glassy eyes, that gentle smile never wavering even as his thumb drags another deliberate circle over your throbbing clit.

“…are you going to be a good girl and let me take you inside so I can finally taste it for real?”

The hallway feels smaller. Hotter. Your heart thunders so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

And Ej just waits—patient, sweet, and utterly depraved—your panties still clutched in his fist.

You should run. You should shove him away and bolt back to your room, lock the door, pretend this never happened.

Instead your fingers curl into his tank top, clinging like he’s the only steady thing left in the spinning hallway.

Ej’s breath hitches—soft, almost shy. “Mhm…That’s it…good girl.” The praise melts over you like warm syrup, filthy and sweet all at once. He walks backward, guiding you through his doorway without ever letting go, kicking it shut behind you with a quiet click that sounds far too final.

The room smells like him—clean detergent, faint cologne, and something musky, something desperate. Your stolen pink panties are still clutched in his fist like a prize as he turns, backing you toward the bed. The edge hits your thighs and you tumble down onto soft sheets, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. He follows, crawling over you slow and predatory, that gentle smile never fading even as his free hand slides up your thigh, pushing your legs apart with effortless strength.

“Shh, don’t be scared,” he coos, pressing your own panties against your lips like a gag, the lace still warm and damp from his mouth. “I’ve waited so long to taste what’s mine. Just let oppa make it feel good, yeah?”

His voice cracks on the last word—sweet, wrecked—and then he’s sliding down your body, yanking your sleep shorts off in one smooth tug. Cool air hits your soaked cunt and you whimper, trying to close your legs on instinct, but his broad shoulders are already there, wedging them wide. He stares for a long moment, eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses.

You can’t breathe.

Not with the way EJ looks at you—like you’re the only thing in his universe, like every stolen pair of panties was just practice for this exact moment. His glasses slip a little lower on his nose as he drinks in the sight of your bare, glistening cunt, thighs trembling in his grip. A soft, reverent exhale ghosts over your slick folds and you twitch, hips jerking helplessly.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice still that same gentle lullaby, the one that makes your chest ache even as shame burns hotter between your legs. “All swollen and dripping for me already… did K leave you like this? Or were you thinking about me, pretty girl? Watching me fuck your pretty panties, hm? That’s what did this, yeah?”

You try to shake your head, try to deny it, but his tongue drags up the entire length of your pussy in one long, filthy stripe and the only sound that leaves you is a broken whine. Ej groans like he’s tasting heaven, eyes fluttering shut for a second as he savors you—slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing every fold, every quiver.

Then he dives in.

His lips seals over your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue flicking in tight, relentless circles that make your back arch clean off the bed. One of his long fingers teases at your entrance before sliding in to the knuckle, curling immediately against that spot that turns your vision white. Another joins it, stretching you open with wet, obscene sounds that should mortify you but only make you wetter.

“Oh my—fuck—jju—ah!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and his answering moan vibrates straight through your core.

“That’s it,” he praises against your cunt, lips shiny with your slick. “Mm say it again. Let oppa hear how sweet you sound when you’re falling apart on my tongue.”

He fucks you with his fingers faster now, scissoring them, curling, pressing, while his mouth works your clit like he was born for this. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging, pulling, unsure if you want to push him away or keep him there forever. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, from the sick twist of guilt and need twisting together in your stomach.

You’re so close already—embarrassingly close—thighs shaking around his head, pussy fluttering and clenching around his thick digits. Ej feels it. Of course he does. He’s so fucking observant. He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, that gentle smile curving like he’s proud of you.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss right on your throbbing clit. “I want to feel you cum around my cock first. Want this tiny little pussy squeezing me so tight I forget my own name.”

He rises over you like a shadow, shoving his sweatpants down the rest of the way. His member springs free—thick, flushed dark, curving slightly upward, the head already leaking steadily of precum. The sight alone makes you clench around nothing, a fresh gush of arousal sliding down your thighs. EJ notices, of course. His eyes darken behind his glasses as he strokes himself once, twice, smearing precum over the flushed head.

“Look at you,” he coos, hooking your legs over his elbows and folding you nearly in half beneath him. The casual display of strength makes your stomach flip—how easily he manhandles your much smaller body. “So small under me. Gonna look so fucking gorgeous stretched around me.”

The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance, teasing, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back out again and again until you’re sobbing, hips chasing him desperately.

“Nghh jju—please—”

Something in him snaps at your soft plea.

With one smooth, devastating thrust he buries himself halfway, the stretch burning so good your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Another push and he’s bottomed out, hips flush to yours, so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Ej drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, glasses fogged completely now.

“Fuck, baby… so tight. So perfect. Like you were made for me.” His voice cracks, sweet and wrecked all at once. “Been dreaming about this every night while I fucked your pretty panties…mmm—you feel even better than I imagined.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every thick inch of him pulsing inside you. Your walls flutter wildly around the intrusion, too full, too much, yet your hips twitch like they’re begging for more. Ej’s breath fans hot across your lips, his gentle smile twisting into something darker, hungrier.

“That’s it… feel me, pretty girl. Feel how deep I am.”

He rolls his hips once, slow and deliberate, dragging against that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyes. A broken moan rips from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, kissing you like he’s starving—soft at first, then filthy, tongue sliding against yours while he starts to fuck into you.

Long, deep strokes that make the bed creak. Each thrust pushes a wet squelch from your dripping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass. You’re so small beneath him, folded and helpless, and he uses it—uses every inch of that size difference to pin you down and ruin you.

You whimper beneath him, the sound caught between a sob and a plea, your much smaller body pinned so perfectly under his weight that every breath feels borrowed.

“Euij—too deep—fuck, I can’t—Nghh too much…”

The words tremble out of you, cracked and dripping with everything you’re trying not to feel, but your cunt betrays you anyway—clenching hard around his thick cock like it’s starving for more. EJ’s gentle laugh ghosts across your lips, low and velvet-soft, the kind that makes your stomach twist with shame and heat all at once.

“Can’t?” he echoes, rolling his hips again in that slow, devastating grind that drags every ridge along your fluttering walls. “But look at you, baby…sucking me in so greedily. This tiny little cunt was made to take me. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

He punctuates the last three words with three sharp thrusts that leave you breathless and writhing beneath him. He folds you tighter, knees nearly beside your ears. The stretch burns so sweet it blurs the edges of the room. You’re so full you swear you can feel the blunt head of him nudging against your cervix, a pressure that makes your toes curl and fresh tears slip down your temples.

You try to twist away—just a little, just to breathe—but his hands are iron on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open like a gift he’s waited years to unwrap.

“Shh, pretty girl. Don't fight it,” he murmurs, voice still that soft, reassuring lullaby even as his length splits you open again and again. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks… leaving those sweet panties for me to steal. Did you know I’d wrap them around my cock every night? Stroke myself raw imagining how tight you’d feel?”

Your face burns hotter than the slick mess dripping down your ass. “I—I didn’t… I swear I didn’t know—”

Another brutal snap of his hips cuts you off, turning your denial into a broken moan. EJ leans down, glasses fogged and slipping, lips brushing your ear as he whispers filth like a secret.

“Liar. You liked finding them, didn’t you? Smelling me on your pretty things… wondering which pair I came in last.” He bites down gently on your earlobe, then soothes it with his tongue. “My good girl. So polite during the day… such a needy little slut for me at night.”

You sob out his name—half plea, half curse—as he starts fucking you harder, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise quiet room. Each thrust rocks you up the bed, your tits bouncing with the force, nipples tight and aching. EJ notices, of course. He seems to notice everything when it comes to you. One large hand leaves your thigh to palm your breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak until you arch into him with a whimper.

“Jju—please—slow down, I’m gonna—”

“Gonna what, sweetheart?” His voice drops, dark and sweet like poisoned honey. “Gonna cum already? Go on then. Let me feel it. Give it to me.”

The coil in your belly snaps without warning. Pleasure crashes over you in white-hot waves, your walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick length as you squirt around him, soaking his stomach and the sheets beneath you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, tears streaming freely now. EJ groans long and low, fucking you through every pulse, drawing it out until your legs shake uncontrollably.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving—slower now, deeper, grinding against that oversensitive spot inside you until fresh sparks dance up your spine. “That’s one,” he breathes against your mouth, kissing the tears from your cheeks like they’re precious. “Come on—give me another, baby. Wanna feel this greedy cunt cum again before I fill you up.”

His hand slides down between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. You jerk beneath him, oversensitive and whimpering, but your hips still chase his touch like you can’t help it.

“Too much—EJ, fuck—too much, please—”

“Shh. You can take it. You’re going to take everything I give you.” He kisses you again, filthy and claiming, swallowing every broken sound as he starts thrusting harder once more—long, punishing strokes.

You are extremely grateful EJ’s room is relatively far from the others’ rooms.

Because how the headboard is knocking now—steady, insistent, like a heartbeat gone feral—each heavy thrust driving it against the wall with a dull, rhythmic thud that would have given everything away if anyone were close enough to hear. But no one is. Just you. Just him. Just the wet, obscene slap of his hips meeting yours and the broken little sounds he keeps pulling from your throat like they belong to him.

EJ’s smile stays so soft, so fond, even as he manhandles your tiny frame exactly how he wants, folding you smaller, pinning you tighter. His thumb never eases on your clit, rubbing slick, relentless circles while his length drags along every sensitive inch inside you, bullying that spot until your vision whites out again. Pulses of wetness gush from you, coating his cock and his abs in your clear juices—soaking into his sheets with each long thrust.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…you’re squirting all over me,” he praises in that gentle, wrecked lullaby, eyes dark and hungry behind fogged lenses. “Such a messy little thing. Look at you—crying, shaking, creaming all over oppa’s cock. Mmmm…gonna have to change my sheets.” “Can’t—nnghh—too much!” The words tumble out of your mouth, mixed in with high pitched whines and moans. But your body betrays the words that fall from your mouth—hips still roll weakly against him, chasing the ache, and EJ’s eyes darken with satisfaction.

“See? Your body’s honest even when you’re not.” He starts moving again—slower this time, deep and deliberate, letting you feel every inch drag along your oversensitive walls. 

Another orgasm rips through you without mercy, sharper this time, almost painful in its intensity. Your whole body shakes, legs attempting to close as your release gushes out from you—tears spill and your cunt clamps down like a vice, milking him with wet, rhythmic pulses that force a guttural moan from his throat. He fucks you through it anyway—slow, deep grinds that stretch the pleasure into something endless, something overwhelming, even as you’re a trembling, sobbing mess beneath him.

“Thaaat’s it…give it all to me,” he whispers, licking another tear from your cheek before claiming your mouth again, tongue fucking into you in time with his cock. “One more, pretty girl. One more. I know you can give me another—then I’ll fill you up so deep you’ll feel me for days.”

You don’t even have the breath to beg anymore. Just broken whimpers and the wet, filthy sounds of him ruining you—skin slapping skin, your arousal and his precum squelching obscenely with every thrust, the faint creak of the bedframe joining the headboard’s relentless rhythm.

EJ’s pace turns meaner, hips snapping harder, faster, like the two-faced sweetness is cracking wide open to reveal the depraved hunger underneath. His free hand wraps lightly around your throat—not choking, just holding, thumb pressing possessively over your racing pulse as he leans down to growl against your lips.

“Gonna cum, baby. Gonna pump this tiny, greedy cunt full until it’s leaking down your thighs. You’re mine now. Say it.”

You try—god, you try—but all that comes out is a shattered “Jju—yours—” right as he buries himself to the hilt one last time.

His hips snap forward with a final thrust, cock pulsing thick and heavy inside your fluttering walls as he comes undone. Hot, endless ropes of cum flood you so deep you feel it like a brand—thick and heavy, spilling over and over until it’s leaking out around his shaft in creamy white rivulets, mixing with your own mess and dripping down the curve of your ass to soaking into  the sheets even more. EJ’s groan is low, broken against your mouth, his hand tightening just a fraction around your throat as he holds you there, pinned and full and claimed.

You’re still trembling through the aftershocks, cunt clenching helplessly around him like it never wants to let go, every tiny pulse milking another spurt from his twitching length. Tears streak freely down your temples now, and he chases them with soft, open-mouthed kisses, licking the salt from your skin like it’s sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted.

“Mine,” he whispers, voice velvet-rough, that gentle lullaby cracking at the edges with raw possession. “All fucking mine, pretty girl. Say it again while you’re dripping with my cum.”

You break.

The words spill out of you in a helpless, babbling mess, cracked and slurry and dripping with everything you can’t hold back anymore—

“Y-yours—yours Jju, m’yours—fuck, so full, can’t—too much cum, s’leaking everywhere, please—”

You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Just fragments, pleas, broken affirmations that melt into wet, hiccuping sobs as another weak ripple of overstimulation rolls through your ruined little cunt—your legs shake and your thighs tremble like they might give out any second.

EJ drinks it all in like a fine wine, that gentle smile never fading even as his cock twitches hard inside your fluttering heat, pushing another thick spurt of his seed deeper with a lazy grind of his hips. The wet, filthy sound of it—his release slowly leaking out around his thick base, sliding down your skin in warm, sticky trails—makes your face burn hotter.

“Shh, pretty girl…listen to you,” he coos, voice still holding that softness, thumb stroking slow circles over your racing pulse where his hand still collars your throat. “Babbling so sweetly for me while your tiny pussy keeps milking every drop. You’re already so messy, baby. All swollen and sloppy and stuffed full of me…mmm just the way I dreamed.”

He leans down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts tender—before his tongue slips in to taste your broken whimpers, fucking your mouth in the same lazy rhythm his hips have taken. Slow, deep rolls that drag every sensitive inch of his cock along your oversensitive walls, stirring the warm flood of his cum until it squelches obscenely with every movement. 

Your belly feels heavy with it, slightly bloated and claimed, that faint bulge of his cock pressing against your lower abdomen each time he sinks back in.

Ej’s low, satisfied chuckle vibrates against your lips as he keeps that lazy, grinding rhythm, cock still buried deep and twitching inside your cum-soaked heat. Every slow roll of his hips pushes more of his release out around his thick base, the wet sounds downright obscene in the quiet room—sticky, squelching, filthy. Your thighs are a mess, glistening with it, the sheets beneath you beyond ruined.

“Fuuck, listen to that,” he murmurs, voice husky and warm, almost proud. 

“Your little cunt’s so full it can’t even keep it all inside. Greedy thing…and you’re still trying to milk me even after I’ve emptied everything into you.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your tear-streaked cheek, then the fluttering pulse under his thumb. His hand on your throat stays gentle but firm, a constant reminder of who you belong to now.

You’re floating—overstimulated, dazed, body limp and trembling under him. Another weak, broken sob slips out when he gives one final, deep thrust, pressing that faint bulge against your lower belly like he wants you to feel exactly how much he’s claimed you.

“Shhh… easy, pretty girl. I’ve got you.” His tone softens even more, that sweet EJ resurfacing as the feral edge ebbs. He finally slips his hand from your throat to cradle your face instead, thumbs brushing away fresh tears. Slowly, carefully, he eases his cock out of you with a wet pop. A thick gush of his cum follows immediately, pouring out of your swollen, fluttering hole and running down between your ass cheeks in heavy, warm rivulets.

You whimper at the sudden emptiness, clenching around nothing, and EJ makes a soft, soothing sound. 

He shifts down your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your heaving chest, your stomach, until he’s settled between your trembling thighs. His tongue drags slowly up your messy slit, tasting the mix of both of you, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

“So pretty like this,” he whispers against your sensitive flesh, licking you clean with long, gentle strokes. “All puffy and leaking my cum… my perfect girl.”

He doesn’t stop until you’re shuddering again, another smaller, exhausted orgasm rippling through you under his careful mouth. Only then does he crawl back up, gathering your boneless body against his chest.

He wraps you up tight, one arm banded around your waist, the other stroking slow circles up and down your spine. His lips brush your temple, your hair, your ear—soft, reverent kisses as your breathing slowly evens out.

“My sweet girl,” he says again, quieter this time, like a promise pressed into your skin. “All mine. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to ruin you and put you back together.” His fingers trace the faint marks he left on your throat, then lower, over the sticky mess still coating your thighs. “Let me clean you up properly…”

And thats the last thing you hear before your overwhelmed body and mind finally give out.

You drift in that hazy, boneless space between dreams and waking, EJ’s warmth still curled around you like a second skin—his heartbeat a steady lullaby against your back, his cum still lingering inside your walls even after he’d cleaned you with such tender devotion. His whispers linger in your ear long after sleep claims you fully: my sweet girl… all mine…

And then—

You wake alone.

Your own bed. Sheets cool and crisp beneath you, the faint scent of your own detergent instead of his skin and sweat and that thick, musky release he’d pumped so deep. Your body aches in the most delicious, filthy ways: thighs sticky, core tender and fluttering like it still remembers the shape of him, a faint bruise blooming at the base of your throat where his thumb had pressed just right. You sit up slowly, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, and press trembling fingers to your swollen lips.

Did that…really happen?

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet.

You pad barefoot down the hall, legs a little unsteady, the oversized sleep shorts you somehow have on again riding up with every step. The kitchen light is on—soft, golden, spilling across the tiles like an invitation. Your heart does something complicated when you see a tall figure at the counter instead of EJ’s gentle silhouette.

K.

He looks even taller in the low light, easily over 185 cm of quiet muscle poured into that same black tank top, gym shorts hugging those powerful thighs. His normal protein shake is long gone; now he’s pouring something else—water, maybe—his movements unhurried, controlled. When his gaze slides over to you, slow and heavy, that same gentle smile curves his mouth, soft youthful features almost deceptive in their kindness.

“Morning,” he says, voice smooth like warm honey, deeper than you remember. He sets the glass down with a quiet clink and turns fully toward you, broad shoulders rolling under the thin fabric. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You freeze near the fridge, suddenly hyper-aware of how little you’re really wearing, how your nipples pebble against the hoodie from the soft chill of the apartment, how your shorts have ridden up, slick soaking the crotch—pussy clenching involuntarily at the way K’s eyes drag down your body—lingering, appreciative, and all knowing.

“I—yeah. Just…um…thirsty.” The lie tastes weak on your tongue.

He steps closer. Not crowding, not yet, but close enough that you catch that same musky, woody cologne, mixed now with something sharper—clean sweat, faint detergent, and underneath it all, something darker. His hand reaches past you to open the cabinet, chest brushing your shoulder just like before, heat radiating off him in waves.

“Here,” he murmurs, handing you a glass of cold water. His fingers linger against yours, thumb stroking once over your knuckles. “You look… flushed. Long night?”

The question seems innocent, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

You take the glass with shaky hands, lips parting around the rim, and he watches—openly, shamelessly—how your throat works as you swallow. A low sound rumbles in his chest, almost too quiet to hear.

You swallow the cold water, clearing your throat before speaking, “Um…Where’s Ej?”

K’s gentle smile doesn’t falter, not even for a second.

It only deepens, soft and almost fond, as he watches the way your voice cracks around EJ’s name. His thumb keeps stroking slow, lazy circles over your knuckles, warm and deceptively sweet, while the rest of him looms so close you can feel the heat rolling off that broad chest in waves.

“EJ?” he echoes, voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over gravel. “Ah…He went for an early run. Said something about clearing his head after last night.”

His eyes flick down to the faint bruise peeking just above the collar of your hoodie—Ej’s mark, left so tenderly—and that dark, hungry flicker returns, gentler than Nicholas but no less dangerous.

“He told me you were still sleeping so beautifully when he slipped out. All soft and puffy and leaking his cum like a good girl.”

Your breath stutters. The glass nearly slips from your fingers.

K catches it easily, setting it aside with one hand while the other—tugs at the waistband of your shorts. Pulling you close enough you can smell the notes of his cologne. Cedar and olibanum.

A broken sound slips from your throat—half protest, half whimper—and his fingers slip lower, bolder now, sliding under the hem of your shorts and straight between your thighs. Two thick digits drag through your wetness, spreading the slick along your swollen folds before pushing inside you without warning. 

A wet, filthy sound fills the quiet kitchen as he pumps them once, twice, slow and deliberate, dragging EJ’s dried spend and your fresh arousal along your fluttering walls.

God, how were you this wet already?

It’s almost as if K can hear your thoughts. 

“This wet at 9am in the morning?” K mocks, voice low and dripping with cruelness, that soft youthful face twisting into something mean and sharp as his thumb grinds slow circles over your throbbing clit. “Fuck, you really are just a pathetic little slut, aren’t you? EJ pumps you full like a good breeding toy and you still wake up dripping for the next one. Greedy. Fucking. Hole.”

You can’t even catch your breath before he spins you around roughly. Your back pressed against his chest as two long fingers plunged into your dripping cunt with a wet schlick that makes your knees buckle. He catches you easily—big palm splayed across your lower belly, pressing you flush against his hard body like you weigh nothing at all. 

“Pathetic,” he growls right against your ear, voice no longer velvet-soft but edged with cruel amusement. “Still leaking EJ’s load and your greedy little pussy is sucking me in like a desperate whore. You really are just a free-use cumdump for this apartment, huh?”

His hand clamps tight over your mouth the second you try to whine, fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to bruise. You can hear faint footsteps in the hallway—lazy, unhurried—But K doesn’t stop. He finger-fucks you faster, meaner, the heel of his palm grinding against your swollen clit with every brutal thrust. Your juices run down his wrist, soaking into the fabric of your sleep shorts, the obscene sounds muffled only by how tightly he’s crushing you against him. Your lips part against his palm in a desperate, muffled plea—“please, K, someone’s—” but the words dissolve into a broken whimper as his hand presses harder, crushing the sound before it can escape.

Oh god, someone’s going to see—

“Shut the fuck up and take it,” he hisses, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Someone will see if you don’t keep your mouth shut—if you make a single fucking noise, I’ll bend you over this counter and make sure whoever’s coming gets to watch me ruin this sloppy hole.”

Your walls clench violently around his fingers at the threat, shame and heat flooding through you in equal measure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes—it only fuels him, its exactly what he wants—he laughs softly, darkly, twisting his digits deeper, stretching you wider. The size difference is obscene; his broad frame dwarfs your much smaller one, making you feel tiny, helpless, breakable.

You whimper, hips twitching involuntarily into his touch despite the shame burning through you. This can’t be happening again—But you only gush around his finger—it's like your body had become accustomed to being used like this.

“Mmm…EJ’s not the only one who’s been patient,” he continues, lips trailing down the side of your neck to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss over the fading bruise. 

“Watching you prance around in those tiny shorts. Fuck…I’ve jerked off to the idea of fucking this sweet cunt more than you can think.”

His confession hits like a spark to dry tinder. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, another rush of slick flooding out to coat his hand, and K groans low in his throat—still so gentle, still smiling against your skin.

“Good girl,” he praises, nipping at your earlobe. “See? Your body knows who it belongs to now.”

The footsteps pause just outside the kitchen.

K yanks his fingers out so suddenly you nearly sob into his palm, your empty cunt fluttering and clenching around nothing. 

He spins you around again, shoving your back against the counter, and brings those glistening fingers straight to his mouth. His eyes—still deceptively soft in that youthful face—lock onto yours as he sucks them clean with a filthy moan, tongue dragging slow between the digits like he’s savoring the mix of your fresh slick and what remains of EJ.

“Mmm. Tastes like a used-up little slut,” he murmurs, voice dripping with degradation. One big hand stays wrapped around your throat now, not choking yet, just a heavy warning as he leans.

“I’m not done with you yet, short stuff,” he murmurs, voice soft and dark as he tucks your hoodie back down with careful hands, almost reverent. “Not even close. Next time…I’m sinking every inch into this sloppy little cunt.”

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anyway. recently she invited me to her parents’ place and told me i could go anywhere but her childhood bedroom. i thought she was joking at first until i simply walked past it and she appeared out of nowhere like a horror movie ghost and pulled me away after giving me the gnarliest glare EVER. i did, however, sneak a peek before she dragged me off and i caught a glimpse of like, a hundred bear plushies just sitting there on her bed.

she also has an entire sock drawer in her apartment stuffed full of bear keyrings. one of them wears a hoodie that looks suspiciously like one of mine. another has beauty marks on its cheek in the exact placement i have mine on. her phone case? bears. her ringtone? bear noises. (???)

i’ve also been told all my life that i look like a bear, so i asked her once—half-jokingly, of course—if she only started talking to me because i looked like a one, and she didn’t deny it. she just giggled and kissed my nose.

TLDR, AITA for feeling a little… i don’t know. concerned for my safety? or identity? or left out that my girlfriend, my best friend of TEN YEARS, didn’t care to tell me about her morbidly insane obsession with bears?

⬆️ 82 ⬇️ 💬 5

haechan didn’t consider himself a paranoid man. if anything, most people described him as laid-back, albeit slightly overly affectionate, and also kind of a menace. he believed in good omens. he even had a crystal phase once—charging his rose quartz on his windowsill routinely, hoping it would make you, his best friend, look at him in a different, more romantic light. safe to say, it worked.

but ever since the two of you started dating, he started noticing... things.

it started when you first invited him over to your apartment. you had always preferred hanging out at his when you were just friends, but now that things were different, you opened your door to him like it was nothing. he tried not to think too hard about the bear-themed bath mat or the oddly specific collection of bear-shaped coasters you owned. he even overlooked the bear stickers you often slapped onto his belongings without asking, claming it gave them character. but it was your sock drawer that tipped him over the edge.

you were in the shower when it happened. he’d just been looking for a pair of fuzzy socks—your fuzzy socks, to be exact—because his feet were cold and your drawer always smelled of baby powder and comfort. what he found instead was an entire drawer, stuffed with tiny, keychain-sized bears. rows and rows of them, in different shades of brown, textures, and expressions. some were handmade—crocheted, clearly by you— others were store-bought, but a disturbing number were… familiar.

one wore a grey hoodie that matched his favourite one. another had tiny stitched moles that matched the placement of the ones on his own face. he lifted it closer, blinking. the stitching on the bear’s right cheek wasn’t a manufacturing detail—it was intentional.

he stood there for a while, just holding it. not even sure how to feel.

when you finally walked out of the bathroom with your hair wrapped in a towel and a toothbrush between your teeth, you saw him standing next to your dresser with a look of existential dread painted across his face.

“you okay?” you asked around the toothbrush.

“yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “totally fine. just... um, hanging out with my twin, apparently.”

you looked at the bear in his hand and smiled, unbothered. “oh. you found my gomdo lee.”

he blinked. “i’m sorry, you named it?”

you gave a light shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “of course. it’s also based off you, by the way. i started customising him back in college after renjun called you his winnie the pooh bear.”

“that was—okay, that was a joke, a passing comment. but this? you’ve been making bears based on me since before we were even dating? wow... and i thought i was the obsessed one...”

“can’t a girl have hobbies?” you replied sweetly.

but the way your eyes sparkled? haechan wasn’t so sure this was just a hobby.

that night, he couldn’t sleep. he laid stiffly in your bed, staring at the ceiling while you snored softly beside him.

it wasn’t that your bed wasn’t comfortable. it was too comfortable—covered in plush blankets and stuffed animals that made him feel like he’d been swallowed into the softest cult imaginable. you looked peaceful, one arm wrapped tightly around a fluffy beige teddy that looked older than both of you combined. its fur was worn and slightly matted in places, but you held onto it like it was made of gold. it wore a navy cardigan—buttoned and everything—which wouldn’t have been so strange if haechan himself hadn’t worn a nearly identical one just a few weeks ago.

he glanced down at your sleeping form. you nuzzled deeper into the plush bear’s chest, mumbling something incoherent under your breath that sounded dangerously like my bear…

he exhaled slowly and turned onto his side. the ceiling fan spun lazily above him, doing nothing to calm the growing questions in his head.

was he your boyfriend… or your living build-a-bear?

he wasn’t even sure he was mad or uncomfortable. mostly confused. and—if he was being painfully honest—kind of flattered?

which was possibly worse.

he brought it up to mark the next day at their usual brunch spot, halfheartedly picking at his tofu stew while trying to rationalise everything out loud.

“i’m not saying i’m jealous, or anything,” haechan insisted, even though his tone sounded exactly like someone who was jealous. “i’m just… confused. and maybe a little left out. like, this is clearly something she’s obsessed with. i mean—her ringtone is literal bear noises. but she never once told me about it. not when we were friends. not even when we first started dating. i’ve also never had to compete with stuffed animals before. it’s humbling.”

mark, who had been half-listening while texting chenle about wanting to go home, finally looked up. “you’re jealous of teddy bears?”

“i’m not jealous,” haechan repeated. “i’m just confused about all the attention these bears are getting. i’m her boyfriend. i bring her food. i fix her wifi. those bears just lie there like limp little freeloaders!”

mark chewed thoughtfully. “okay, so like… what’s the issue? you think she’s only dating you because you look like a bear?”

“…i don’t know.” haechan slumped back in his chair. “everyone does say i resemble one. i mean i do have a round face and round eyes but i don’t think i’m so bear? but she once said my yawns were ‘cub-like.’ what does that even mean? fuck, this is all your fault.”

mark blinked at him. “you need help.”

“I NEED ANSWERS.”

haechan tried to forget about it. really, he did. he convinced himself it was harmless. you liked cute things. he was cute. case closed.

but then he caught himself googling do women imprint on men who resemble animals? and realised maybe he was truly losing it.

the final straw came when he returned home after dance practice and collapsed onto your shared couch, only to knock over one of the keyring bears you’d lined up neatly against the shelf. it fell to the floor face-up, staring at him with those same round eyes and smug little cardigan.

and suddenly, haechan had a thought so stupid it almost made him laugh.

what if he leaned into it?

what if, instead of questioning everything—he just became the bear for you?

he spent the next hour pacing the apartment and scrolling through bear-themed accessories before finally rage-ordering a headband with ears and a hoodie with paw prints on the sleeves.

if he couldn’t beat the bears… maybe it was time to join them.

on the night of your three-month anniversary, you opened your apartment door, expecting a simple dinner—or at most, one of his overly dramatic love coupons written using jaemin’s glitter pens. instead, you were greeted by a full-grown man standing outside with a slightly awkward grin and a big red ribbon tied around his neck.

he wore a soft brown hoodie, complete with stitched fabric ears poking out from a headband. his cheeks were flushed, both from embarrassment and—if he were honest—hope.

he cleared his throat and held out a single paw-printed card. “hi,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “i’m your true, real bear now.”

you stared at him for a long, stunned second. he shifted on his feet, suddenly regretting the ribbon. and the headband. and quite possibly his entire life.

but then you dropped everything and launched yourself into his arms with so much force he stumbled back into the hallway.

“i love you,” you whispered, breathless, like it was the easiest truth in the world.

he blinked, ears twitching, unsure he heard that right.

“what?”

you looked up at him, eyes glassy. “i said i love you. my real bear.”

and just like that, every second of spiraling and confusion was worth it. he grinned into your hair, holding you tight. “damn. all it took was a pair of fuzzy ears and a ribbon, huh?”

“no.” you giggled, chest blooming with warmth as you cupped his face. “it took you. you’ll always be my one and only lover-bear.”

r/AmItheAsshole posted by

u/haemuffin・7 days. ago

my (25M) girlfriend (25F) forbids me from going into her childhood bedroom and has a sock drawer stuffed full of bear keyrings. some of them even look a little like me. AITA for feeling uncomfortable?

UPDATE, i dressed up as a bear and now we’re inseperable. still not allowed in the childhood bedroom though. apparently there’s a bear with my baby photo sewn into its chest. she said it was a prototype. i am terrified. also flattered. but mostly terrified. wouldn’t trade her for the world though :)

⬆️ 127 ⬇️ 💬 66

 People say ‘don’t shit where you eat' for a reason. 

You knew going to a work do where free alcohol was served with your ex-situationship lurking was not a smart idea. You knew it. But you also refused to back down and disrupt your plans because of a narcissist who is known for not being able to handle his alcohol.  

 It was all fun and games at the start of the night, but the more drinks he kept having, the more his petty comments kept coming your way.  

 “Remember when you used to be fun?”  

 “Why so uptight? Did someone hurt you?”  

 And so, you caved. You called the only person you knew could save you no matter what.  

 “Hey, what you up to?” You hold the phone between your shoulder and ear while rummaging through your bag for a lighter. The situation definitely demands a smoke. If you could find the stupid pink lighter you once stole off Haechan.

The cars are loud on the main road outside the venue your company had booked for the evening, but you can still hear the faint clicking of his keyboard through the speaker. He is definitely in the middle of a gaming session. 

 “Already gave up?” He says with a little amused laugh. You can almost picture the smug smirk on your friend’s face. 

 “It's either that or I get violent.” You snarl in the cold of the night, the lighter still nowhere to be found. "It's been what, an hour? And the man's already five drinks in."  

 “Yikes. You made him turn to alcohol. Poor fella.” He pretends pity, but you know he’s always hated the guy.  

 “Not my fault he can’t take the truth.”  

 “Eh, yeah, he’s a dick, but you also did tell him you faked all your orgasms.” He snorts. “Surprised he hasn't already killed himself.”  

 “Aha!” You shout a little too excitedly for having just found a lighter.  

 “You good?” He asks curiously, keyboard clicking coming to a halt.  

 “Yeah, sorry, just found my lighter.”  

 “You mean my lighter.” He deadpans. “I knew it was you.”  

 You stifle a giggle at his whining. “Who else could it have been?”  

He scoffs. “I have other friends.”  

 “Mm,” You hum as you light the cigarette and take the first nerve-calming drag. You exhale in relief before continuing, “You only chat to them on Overwatch nowadays.”  

“Be thankful I'm actually spending time with you on my days off,”  He grumbles.

“You're so right. I am an ungrateful piece of shit. Will you ever forgive me.” You respond in the most indifferent tone you can muster.

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever - when’s your bus?” He asks, totally unfazed by your sassy comeback.  

 “Like five minutes?” You glance at the schedule board. The bus to Haechan’s place shows 5’, while the one that takes you home shows 7’. “I could always go home. Don’t wanna keep you up.”

 “It’s 8 p.m. on a Friday night.” He brushes off your hesitation, clearly having already decided for you. “I’ve got food covered, just bring some soju.”

 You're glad he can't see the satisfied grin that takes over your face.

He somehow always manages to say endearing things with a tone that could make him come across as cold to someone who isn't familiar with his mannerisms. It's easy for you to notice the always present but underlying softness, though.

You absentmindedly keep flicking the cigarette even though there's no ash left at the tip. “Alright, say less.”  

“And none of that peach-flavoured shit you like,” He adds. “It's too sweet.” 

“You'll drink what I pay for.” 

You end up getting two peach and two original-flavoured bottles anyway.

⟡

  “The fuck is he so bitter for?” Haechan slumps down next to you on his spacious sofa after getting rid of the empty take out boxes, making you bounce a little. “I swear it wasn’t that serious?”  

 “It wasn’t!” You exclaim in annoyance, kicking your feet from where you’re lying across the sofa, head heavy against the armrest. Your eyes feel a little droopy from the lovely meal you've just had and the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed tonight — not enough to get you drunk, just enough to give your body a pleasant buzz.  

 “Maybe he really liked you.” Haechan points out and you can’t help but raise your head a little to throw him a ‘be serious’ look. He snorts. “What?” 

 The cotton of his sweatpants feels soft against your toes, and you subconsciously wiggle them between his thigh and the sofa as you relax against the soft cushions. “That man hated me. He just liked my pu—“ 

 “Yah,” He cuts you off, still chuckling in disbelief at your non-existent filter. “How can you be so unhinged when you drink?” 

 Your eyes are shut but you giggle along, always enjoying making him a little uncomfortable. It’s a rare occurrence.  

 “Speaking of…” He trails, clearly in thought about something.  

 “Of what? My genitals?” Your attempt to mock him earns you a sharp pinch on the fleshy bit of your calf. "Ah! Okay okay okay, I'm sorry." You squeal in pain until he retrieves his fingers.

“Weirdo.” He mumbles disapprovingly, making you let out a not-so-charming snort that may or may not resemble a laugh. You can picture the offended expression on his face. The pout his heart-shaped lips always form when he's annoyed is too adorable to forget.

“You were saying...?” You prod with a gentle voice this time, wiggling your toes again, your hands folded on your tummy as you keep your eyes closed. 

 “Did you actually fake it every single time?” He shuffles a little further down the sofa, his sweats dragging against your toes as he gets more comfy and now you’re pretty sure your right foot is now stuck under his ass.  

 “Every. Single. Timeeeee.” You drag the word with a dramatic groan.  

 “Jeez. Poor guy.” Haechan exhales in wonderment. “Was his peepee like, really small or...?”  

 “Pfff.” You blow out a snicker. “It wasn’t that much of a size issue. It was more…I dunno, just lack of technique, I guess?” 

 “Hm.” Haechan hums in thought. “What about when he’d go down on you?”  

 You’re no stranger to having these types of conversations with Haechan. You’ve been friends long enough to feel comfortable discussing your sex lives to an extent. You’re both sexually active adults, it's no secret, but for some reason, in this specific moment, it feels a little too intimate. Maybe it’s the quiet of his apartment, with the tv being muted and all. Or maybe it’s the alcohol in your system.  

 “That’s never really worked for me, you know.” You admit quickly, without really elaborating.  

 There’s a small pause from his side, which makes you move your bent knees to the side a little so you can check your friend’s expression. He seems confused.  

 “Like ever?” His eyebrows furrow a little before smoothing down again. “With anyone?”  

 You shake your head with a little pout, containing your laugh. It’s kind of funny how concerned he looks, even though it has nothing to do with him. 

 “Well, if it means anything, on behalf of the entire male population, I do apologise.” He puts his hands together and closes his eyes, as though begging for your forgiveness.  

 You stifle a laugh and lightly kick his thigh. “Pretty sure there’s much more pressing matters the male population should feel sorry for.”  

 “Touché.” He smiles awkwardly at your observation.  

 “Also, I hate to break it to you, but…” You move your feet from underneath his leg and place them on his lap. His hand casually squeezes one ankle, the touch comforting over your trousers. “Surely, you know most of your partners have faked it at least once.”  

 He scoffs playfully. “Yeah, probably in uni, when I was constantly fucking around, but definitely not in the last couple years.”  

 “Delusion at its finest.”  

 His eyes roll sarcastically. “I’m very aware of my oral skills, don’t you worry about me.”  

 You breathe out an amused laugh at his frown. “Right right right, my bad.”  

 “I could always prove it.”  

 Your laughter is louder this time. “What? You gonna invite a girl over and make me watch?”  

 “I mean…sure, if you’re into that,” He smirks, hand around your ankle tightening slightly. “Not really what I meant though.”  

Now, that sparks some interest in you.

 “You offering me head or something?” You maintain the playfulness in your tone, but you’re very aware of the heat creeping up on your face at what he's insinuating.  

 He just shrugs, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “You get an orgasm; I get to prove you wrong.”  

 “You must really love proving me wrong.” You’re positive of your blush showing now, his amused grin enough proof as he inspects your face.  

 He shrugs again. He’s too calm for this situation. “Won’t be a chore, I’m sure.”  

“Ey, quit pulling my leg.” You warn in disbelief. There's no way this isn't one of his tricks.

He scoffs with a lopsided grin, tongue poking against his cheek. “I'm not pulling anything.”

“You'd seriously go down on me just to prove a point?” Your eyeballs feel like they're about to pop out of your head.

“Last chance. Take it or leave it.” He says monotonously, like it's some kind of auction.

This whole situation is absurd. But what's even more absurd is that you panic at the thought of missing the chance of your friend eating you out. You must be experiencing a simulation. That's the only credible explanation.

You purse your lips in thought. Why can't you bring yourself to say no? “What if you actually fail?”  

“I won’t.”  

 “You might.” You press again.  

 He exhales an exasperated laugh. “Then, I dunno. You get something to use against me.”  

 You certainly like the sound of that. “I could always fake it. I’m good at that.”  

 “I’ll know if you do.” He raises an eyebrow in warning, expression more serious than you’re used to. “So, best not.”  

 You swallow a little too audibly, too aware of his touch on your leg now. It’s when your gaze drops to his lips that you really do come to a decision.  

 “Alright.” You agree, as nonchalantly as possible. “No weird shit, though.”  

 He snorts a laugh as he sits up a little and you scoot back to rest on your elbows. “What exactly classifies as weird shit?”  

 “I don’t know...” You look around as though you’ll find an answer in his living room. You know it's just a way to avoid his eyes. “Just don’t make it weird.” 

 “I won’t.” He raises his hands in defence.

“Good.”

He stares at you for a few moments, and it’s already fucking weird. “Wanna stay here or go to the bedroom?”  

Oh god. This is actually happening.

 “Here.” You decide quickly. “Bedroom’s a bit too serious.”  

 He nods in approval. “Fair.”  

 You nod back, but really knowing what else to do.  

 “Alright, let’s see your granny panties then.”  

 “See, that’s fucking weird! I knew you'd—“ 

 “Okay okay,” He cackles loudly at your expense, catching the cushion you attempt to smack into his face. “I’m sorry, I’ll behave.”  

 You glare at him, not really believing a word that comes out of his stupidly pretty mouth. You know him too well.  

 “Would you kindly take your trousers off or shall I do it?” He asks carefully this time, sounding too genuine, eyelashes batting dramatically. You know it's all an act. 

 You don’t choose words this time. Instead, you lie back down and unbutton your trousers, but before you can start removing them, Haechan stops you with his hands on yours.  

 “Wait.” His slightly worried expression makes your heart drop. Did he just trick you into agreeing so he could take it back? What sick, twisted motherf— “You actually wanna do this, right?”  

You barely register your smile. Him making sure to get your repeated consent shouldn’t feel so endearing. “I’ve already said yes, Hyuck.”  

 “No, you said ‘alright’.” He mimics your voice playfully, making your smile widen. “Not the same.”  

 “My bad.” You get comfortable again, your hands resuming their actions as you start pushing your pants down, hips raising a little, and when the piece of clothing hits the floor, you speak again, smile still intact. “Yes, I want to.”  

 His eyes don’t even flicker down to your bottom half. They stay on your face. Even when your legs spread to accommodate him as he shuffles closer, he doesn’t allow himself to look below your waist.  

 He doesn’t come across as embarrassed, or awkward. He’s just… calm. His breathing stable compared to yours, his hands steady on your knees, no tremble detected, his blinking slow, eyes moving unhurriedly over your squirming body. He’s too fucking normal about this.  

 And you’re already turned on. And embarrassed. And so not calm.  

 “Cute.” His endearing remark breaks the silence when he finally eyes your underwear, his thumb delicately tracing the baby blue bow in the centre of the waistline. You’re glad you chose black lace instead of anything else that could betray your wetness.  

 You can feel it leaking. It’s uncomfortable and very unsettling. A reminder of the absurdity you've found yourself in on this random Friday evening.

 He's one of your favourite people. Your best guy friend. And he’s got your pussy dripping and your heart skipping more beats than it should. 

 And he hasn’t even touched you properly yet.  

 His hands settle on your inner thighs, spreading your legs as far as they’ll go, and when he brings his face closer to where you need him, you have to close your eyes for a few moments. Just to anchor yourself a little.  

 “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks softly, his warm breath hitting your tummy.  

 You look down to find that his concerned eyes are already inspecting your face. “No. It’s just weird. It’s you.” 

 “Exactly.” He reaffirms with a cheeky grin. “It's just me.”   

 You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “I’m good. I promise.” 

 “Good.” He presses a tiny peck just above the bow of your panties, where your blouse has ridden up and left the skin uncovered. His nose tickles you slightly. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

 You accidentally let out a giggle at his gentle demeanour, not really familiar with this side of him. He’s always playful with you, sure, just not this soft. As touchy as Haechan can be, it’s always clumsy and chaotic. He’ll hug you here and there or put an arm around your shoulders to offer needed comfort, he'll pat you on the back, ruffle your hair just to annoy you, but he's never lingered. Never crossed any lines. Never done or said anything to make you question your friendship.  

 Until now.  

 He rearranges his position a little, until he’s leaning comfortably on his elbows, face directly above your heat, arms loosely wrapped around your thighs, hands stroking up and down the skin. He's being gentle. Attentive.

It's annoying how you can't look away. How could you? When he looks so good between your legs. So, you just watch.

 He starts with a kiss on your left inner thigh, then another one on your right one, where he keeps descending, each smooch wetter than the previous one until he’s reached the edge of your soaked underwear. 

 He makes brief eye contact when his tongue dips out to lick the crease that connects your thigh and mound, making your breath hitch. He does the same on the other side, and then resumes the kisses, covering your skin in dewy patches.

It’s his heavy breaths that affect you the most. Simply because they betray that he's not as unaffected as he seems.  

 You don’t rush him. Don’t beg him. Don’t let yourself make too many sounds other than some shaky breaths here and there when his teeth nip at your skin. You hold back as best as you can. Even when the pulse of your clit becomes almost unbearable. Even when the slick that drips out of you is too difficult to ignore. Even when you’re dying to grab onto his hair and shove his face into your pussy. You just force your hands to grab onto the cushions that support your head.  

 Your composure eventually breaks when he lands a lingering kiss just above your covered clit. A barely audible whimper fills the quiet of his apartment. You know he’s heard it when his hold on your thighs tightens, pretty hands flexing, fingers digging in the flesh, the cool sensation of his rings soothing you. You can’t help but smile to yourself at the acknowledging gesture. At the way he tries to ground you.  

 His lips part wider this time, tongue poking out, gently massaging your clit over the ruined lace, the moist warmth seeping through the fabric, teasing you like you’ve never been teased before.  

 “Hyuck.” The nickname comes out whiny, almost broken.  

 He hums in response, the vibration going straight through your sensitive bud, pulling an accidental moan out of you. His tongue slips down to your entrance and that’s when he makes a sound for the first time tonight. It’s very obvious he’s felt the arousal that’s probably spilling from the sides of your sticky panties.  

 “You taste good.” He whispers, more to himself it seems, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs as he bites down on his lower lip. “Can I take these off?”  

 You blink down at him, his pleading tone causing your pussy to flutter around nothing, and his wide, boba eyes - full of hope - cause your stomach to do a flip. You can’t do anything other than nod dumbly.  

 He moves swiftly; his fingers already slipping into the sides of your panties as he sits up to make more room, your hips lift in response and in no time the garment is somewhere on his floor. Haechan doesn’t give you much time to feel exposed. He gets to work quickly. Eager hands grab onto your hips and effortlessly drag you closer to his face, prying your legs wide open, nails digging into the backs of your thighs as his eyes drink in the filthy sight of your slicked up centre.  

 Your brain malfunctions when you hear a not-so-subtle inhale.

Did he just...smell you?

You hands move on their own, clinging onto his hair, pushing him down, while your hips lift just a tiny bit, and before he can protest, his nose bumps into your swollen bud.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve practically shoved his face into your folds. His tongue makes contact immediately, licking from your entrance to your clit, lightly at first, the tip of it barely making contact, almost tickling you. Then he repeats the action, a little bolder each time, edging you.

A wide swipe of the pink muscle against the whole expanse of your throbbing pussy sends a shock through your system. And when his tongue swirls around your swollen bud, you let your head fall back and your eyes close in bliss. “Holy shit, you are good at this.”

You’re awfully aware of the sigh that slips out of you, but at this point you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Decorum is the least of your worries when your best friend of three years has his face buried in your most private parts.  

 Awareness flies out of the window too when Haechan’s full lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently before his tongue joins with languid strokes. You can’t tell how loud you’re being, all you can focus on is the pleasure and the wet slurping sounds he’s making.  

 “Told you.” He mumbles mid lap and before you can think of a smart comeback, his tongue briefly sneaks down to your entrance, collecting more of your arousal before travelling back up to flick gently. Your hips unintentionally buck into his face, searching for more friction.  

 He’s clearly teasing you. Toying with you. Trying to make a point. Greedy asshole. 

 “Fuck!” You exclaim in surprise when his thumbs spread your pussy lips, isolating your clit and lifting the hood so that his mouth can suck harder than before. Your back arches, the direct contact with the nerve endings making your legs shake involuntarily. Your fingers curl in his strands in despair and your eyes roll back when he doesn’t let up. His harsh flicks come in up and down motions, before turning into long, persistent swirls and then repeat. “Hah—wait—fuck, I’m—” 

 “Shut up and cum.” He rasps harshly, his voice alone making you clench around emptiness.

You feel his spit combined with your juices trickling down to your ass, possibly staining his sofa too. You’re so close you can taste it. Your pussy throbs from the sensitivity, thighs shake uncontrollably, the backs of your knees where your legs are bent drip in sweat, your lungs are struggling to keep up, the coil in your tummy so close to bursting.  

It's nothing close to what you had in mind. He's making you look like a fool for ever doubting his skills. You find yourself feeling irrationally jealous of all the women that have experienced this when you'd been having to act and scream out fake moans.

 He suddenly pulls back a little, and your head instantly shoots up at the loss. Your eyes meet his hooded ones, the lower half of his face covered in you, and as if the sight wasn’t already scandalous, the thick string of saliva that dribbles out of his mouth and directly onto your clit, completes the piece of art of whatever the fuck this is.  

 “Jesus.” You huff when you let your head loll back down, and then his tongue is on you again, flicking faster and harsher than before, hitting a spot on one side of your clit that makes stars appear behind your eyelids. “Fuck, right there.”  

 You hold his head exactly where you need him, and he obliges without a word. The assault of his mouth combined with his hand blindly reaching up to give your boob a light squeeze, make your whole body lock up for a moment before shakes of intense pleasure take over you. The broken whine that escapes your throat, barely registers as you cum hard on his tongue. You don’t even realise that your trembling hand engulfs the one he's got on your breast, interlocking your fingers with his while trying not to drown in the abyss of the high.  

 It’s impossible. Not when he keeps licking and sucking, completely unbothered, moaning like he’s experiencing this as intensely as you are, gripping onto your thigh and fingers like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t offer every bit of pleasure he can. 

 He lets you ride it out quite literally on his face. Doesn’t stop you from grinding on his nose and tongue. He happily stays there as you use him until you’ve had enough. And even when you can't take more, he still doesn’t stop. He slowly drags his tongue between your folds before he lets it dip into your leaking hole. As far as it can go. Tasting your release from the source. And when his arm curls around your thigh, fingers coming to touch you from above, rubbing harsh circles on your clit, you have to get away. Before you lose your fucking mind.  

 Simply asking him to stop does cross your mind for half a second, but for some reason you go with what should feel forbidden. You grab onto the collar of his top, your other hand already curling around the back of his neck, pulling him up until his face is directly above yours, and before he can question your actions, you’re claiming his mouth with yours.  

 No testing the waters, no permission asked. Just parted lips against parted lips, your tongue shoving past them, tasting your own arousal. You feel him go rigid for a few seconds, and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t stutter with worry at the thought of scaring him away. At the thought of crossing a boundary. But then you feel his body melt into yours and his soft lips start responding, matching your eagerness, jaw slackening to let your tongue tangle with his.  

 It’s kind of gross. Saliva mixed with your essence drips from the corner of your mouth. It’s messy. Lazy. But it feels nice. And oddly sweet. And warm. And you hate that fresh heat blooms in your belly just from a kiss.  

 His hand coming to cup your chin possessively does something to you. His fingers lightly squish your cheeks before they trail up, palm engulfing your jaw, tilting your head a little so he can deepen the kiss with a satisfied hum. Such a simple gesture, but it sends tingles down your spine, makes your breath hitch and your hips stutter with newfound want. His thumb tracing your cheek reminds you that he’s still in control of the situation.

That he really did prove you wrong.

But you're not annoyed. If anything, it turns you on even more. As twisted as it may sound. The thought of your best friend sticking the very same tongue he made you cum with down your throat, should make your skin crawl. Instead, it makes you want more.   

 “Fuck.” He exhales in your mouth, pulling back just enough to take a look at you with slightly widened eyes, pupils blown out. A thin string of saliva connects you for a second before you lick your lips, breaking the bond.  

 All you keep thinking is 'has he always been this pretty?'. Rosy cheeks, swollen pink lips, nose and chin still glistening with your slick, making more of it gush from your sensitive heat.  

 “I need to cum or I might go fucking nuts.” He complains with a frown, head dropping forward so he can peep between your bodies, and you can’t help but do the same. 

 You see it. The dark stain at the front of his grey sweats, the very prominent bulge of his erection brushing your stomach, barely touching you.  

 “Okay.” You mutter weakly, but then panic when he moves to get off you. You instinctively grab onto his t-shirt, pulling him back down, his erection now trapped between your lower halves. “Where are you going?”  

 His blinks quickly, surprise evident at your resistance. “Bathroom?”  

 “Why?”  

 He lets out a confused laugh. “I don’t know. I thought— 

 You shake your head at him, hips bucking slightly to meet his, a gentle grind, enough to help him get the message. “You don’t have to go.”  

 His lips part at the friction, eyebrows furrowing adorably, eyes fluttering closed as he allows his weight to sink back on you.  

 “Fuck.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder when you grind a little harder this time. “You wanna watch me or something?”

 “Whatever you want.” You mumble in his ear, hand burying in his hair to comfort him with gentle strokes. You hope he catches on the hidden meaning behind your words.  

 “That’s a little misleading.” He lifts his head to meet your eyes again. “I could want things you might not.”  

 “I doubt that.” You say, a restrained smile tugging at your lips. “Unless you wanna put it in my ass.”  

 His light chuckle evokes relief in your tense muscles. “Ass is where you draw the line?”  

 “Sorry.” You smirk teasingly, letting your free hand slip under the hem of his top, fingertips caressing along his spine. You bite back a smile at the little shiver that visibly runs through him.  

 His amused smile and wondering eyes make you feel flustered. Your cheeks burn and you pulse quickens, but you try to remain calm.

“S’okay, not what I want right now anyway.” He lets his hips press flush against yours, completely unashamed of showing off how turned on he is.  

 “You’re good then.” You sneak a hand around his nape to pull him down for another kiss, but he resists this time.  

 He giggles at your confused expression. “Cute.”  

 You pout angrily in response, earning another playful laugh from him.  

 “So, like, just so we're crystal clear,” He leans closer, nose nuzzling yours as he cages your head with his arms. “What you're implying is that if I said I wanted to have sex with you...you'd want that too.”  

 You daringly stare into his eyes when you reach between your bodies and give him a teasing squeeze through his layers.

The stuttering gasp he lets out is hard to miss. “That's not an answer.”

“Then learn to take a hint.” You press harder, reveling in the cute whine that slips out of him.  

 He finally gives up and closes the small gap, kissing you again, with more urgency this time, his tongue sneaking in your mouth while you slowly stroke him through his sweats.

He’s bigger than you expected. Not too long, but thick enough for the stretch to sting at first. You can almost feel it in your walls as they pulse around nothing, desperately needing to be filled.

It feels like torture.

You’re about to complain when you feel him shift his weight a little, your arms quickly coming to wrap around his neck, preventing him from interrupting the kiss.  

 You realise his bottoms are out of the way when his heavy cock slaps against your stomach. In any other occasion you’d feel embarrassed at the way your hips wiggle, seeking for relief and the whimper your let out against his lips.  

 He doesn’t try to shame you or tease you, like the Haechan you know would. He simply responds with a shaky exhale and a slow roll of his hips before kissing you harder, deeper, messier. He keeps devouring your lips even when the velvety head of his cock prods at your entrance, separating your folds with a little squelch. His tongue slides against yours smoothly as he breaches past your tight opening, just the tip going in, testing the waters. He moans when you let your legs spread wider for him, silently inviting him in your soaked heat.  

 Your mouth hangs open, eyes squeezing shut when he’s suddenly pushed halfway in, the burn intense but still somehow laced with pleasure, making your body tremble a little and your fingers curl into his shoulder blades, nails catching onto the soft cotton of his shirt.  

 “Does it hurt?” He checks in a whisper, hips halting when he meets resistance, your pussy tightening when it all becomes too much. He's too big for you to just take in one go.  

 “Stings a little.” You nod, eyes still closed even when you feel him staring at you.  

 “I'll go slow,” He lands a wet smooch on your cheek, earning a giddy smile from you. “Just relax for me.”  

 “M’trying.” You whine pathetically. “Why’s your dick so fat? What the fuck?”  

 He breathes out a chuckle into your neck. “Why’s your pussy so tight? You a virgin or something?”  

 You can’t find it in you to play along anymore, especially when he pulls back out to the tip before sliding back in the same amount as before. He starts building a slow rhythm, thrusts shallow, only going halfway in. Until your walls start to gradually relax around him, allowing him to sink in a little deeper each time.

You both sigh in unison when his hips finally meet yours.  

 “Shit, that's too deep.” You gasp into his shoulder, arms hugging him closer as your trembling body seeks more of his warmth, trying to somehow subdue the mix of pain and pleasure.  

 He grinds upwards, rolling his hips in an angle that makes his cock graze a perfect spot along your snug walls. Your muscles still try to adjust to the thickness, but you welcome it nevertheless. He stays there for a little while, not moving while he scatters lazy kisses along your neck, clearly trying to help you loosen up. His fingers hook into the neckline of your blouse, dragging that side down the slope of your shoulder along with your bra strap, revealing more skin to cover in kisses.  

 “Can we take our clothes off?” He asks while he slowly drags his plush lips and eager tongue along your collarbone.  

 “Yes, please.” You nod a little too eagerly, jittery hands already sneaking under the sides of his t-shirt, helping him get rid of the annoying layer.  

 He sits up a little, length still sheathed in your leaking pussy as he quickly removes his top, revealing ravishing golden skin and lean muscle. His chest is a little more buff than you remember from your summer holidays, his biceps a tiny bit more prominent. 

You could eat him up. 

 “Stop staring.” He gives you bashful smile, hands engulfing your hips, lifting your ass off the sofa just a little so he can spread his knees more and rest your thighs over his.  

 Your lips part in a quiet moan when you feel his cock move inside you, tickling that spot again. “Sorry, it’s all just a little...”  

 “Strange?” He completes your sentence for you.  

 You nod with a little airy laugh, earning another grin from him. 

 “Take this off for me?” He drags the hem of your top just below your ribs, and you quickly take action, fumbling with shaky hands to pull the thin office blouse over your head. “Bra too.”  

 Again, your hands move of their own accord, just following his instructions. You reach behind you, fingers pinching the clasp of the bra, unhooking it with a snap, allowing the lacy garment to loosen on your skin. You watch his expression as you peel the straps down your arms slowly, before flinging the lace somewhere across the floor.  

 You’re both completely naked now. The subtle throb of his stiff length inside you is a reminder of the situation you're in.

Your eyes remain on his face, while his drink in your nudity, roaming shamelessly, like you’re an intricate painting that needs studying. From your lips to your collarbones, to your tits - where they linger - over your stomach, then down to where you’re still connected.  

 “Pretty.” He mutters quietly, and it feels like the word isn’t even aimed at you, but at your pussy.  

 “Stop staring.” You throw his own words back at him, but his intense gaze sends a fresh flood of arousal out of your clenching heat anyway, drenching his cock in it too. You can't help but secretly love how he's ogling, eyes glazed with what could only be pure lust.   

 He blatantly ignores you. Just takes hold of your waist with one hand and plants the other one flat by your shoulder to support his weight. And then his hips start moving. Finally.  

 You grip onto the soft skin of his thighs as he drags his length out to the tip before slowly sinking back in. The wet sounds are humiliating and arousing at the same time, and you can’t help but involuntarily squeeze him in.  

 It seems that brings him out of the trance he's in, making him lose whatever was left of his patience. Without warning he pushes your legs up, squishing your knees against your tits. Giving you no time to react, he starts ramming into your dripping cunt, no care in the world. Completely opposite to his previously careful actions. No easing you in, no letting you adjust. Just vigorous, hard snaps of his hips, his balls slapping against your ass, creating obscene sounds combined with the slurps of your cunt around him.  

 You’re still somewhat in shock, trying to comprehend what he’s putting your body through, but when he slightly adjusts his angle and starts jamming directly into your g-spot, you let out a whiny shriek. 

 “Yeah? You like that?” He rasps, dark eyes finding yours, consuming your pleasure.

 “Uhuh,” You moan out, your nails dig into his thigh muscles. “Please, keep going.”  

 “So needy.” He mocks, leaning over you and folding you in half, testing your flexibility as your legs hook over his shoulders. The penetration is too deep, too intense. Makes your legs shake so much you have to wrap your own arms around the backs of your thighs to minimise the tremble.  

 “Fuck you.” You scoff, the words laced arousal even though frustration boils in your chest.  

 He laughs. So mean but so sexy. “Always wondered what you'd sound like.”  

 “Shut up, you’re so gross.” You whine, your pussy squelching as it tightens again. He’s taunting you and getting a kick out of it. A sick sick man. A sick man who's got you dripping on his sofa. Because he's too fucking hot right now.  

 “And you’re kind of a slut.” He points out with a hard thrust, bulbous head hitting against your cervix, making your eyes roll back into their sockets,. “Begging me to fuck you like this.”

 “Nggh f-fuck, Hyuck, don’t call me that.” You try your best to sound grossed out, but it only comes out as a weak plea. 

 “Awh, why? Like it a little too much?” More like loved it, but you know better that to ever admit that. “Yeah, you do. Look at you, fucking creaming.” He’s greedily staring between your legs, at how his cock is abusing your needy cunt. “Who knew you’d be so thirsty for dick, baby.” He blabbers aimlessly, sounding a little too far gone to care. “My cute little bestie is such a slut, hm?”  

 You have to bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming. Your face and neck feel like they’re on fire, but your sensitive walls keep inviting him in regardless.  

 “Knew you’d be a fucking yapper.” You grit, hoping to piss him off.  

 “Mm.” He offers you a lazy smile instead. Like a dumb fucking idiot. “You know me so well.”  

Your pussy flutters at that, and strangely, so does your heart.

 He keeps fucking into you at the same pace. Not too fast, but hard enough for your ass to ache from the slaps of his hips. You want him closer.  

 “My leg’s cramping.” You lie mindlessly.  

 You’re not sure if he sees right through you, but he slips your legs off his shoulders anyway, letting them loosely settle around his hips, and you seize the opportunity to pull him closer, a hand grabbing onto the back of his neck.  

 He groans lowly at the forced proximity. “Shit.”

 “Faster.” You demand, hands tugging at his hair as he buries his face in your neck. He doesn’t say a word, just does as told. Fucks you faster and a little harder than before, cock barely pulling out before jamming back in, creating a delicious vibration against your clit and front wall. “Oh, my god, yes.”  

 “So good, baby.” He whispers raggedly in your ear, the pet name causing goosebumps to raise on your sweaty skin and turbulence in your chest. “So warm and slippery.”

A particularly sharp thrust makes you cry out, your legs closing in on his hips, preventing him from moving for a second, before he shoves them open again.

“Just take it.” He grunts, hips resuming their assault as his teeth graze your jaw before trapping your earlobe between them. “You asked for this, didn't you?”  

 “Fuck, please.” You whimper out pitifully, not entirely sure what you’re begging for at this point. Your focus is interchanging between the way his chest rubs against yours, stimulating your aching nipples, and his fat cock stretching your cunt like it's carving out its shape in you, as though he's trying to ruin you for anyone else.  

A hand buries in your hair, pulling hard enough to make you gasp, your head lolling back, giving him enough space to lap the sweat off your neck, lustful, angry kisses littering the sensitive skin.

It's too much. Too dizzying. And so fucking good.

 You’re so close. Right on the edge. You just need something to push you over. Something you’re too shy to ask for.

You let your fingers wrap around his wrist instead, guiding his hand to your neck. It lies there limply for a second, just at the base of your throat, and then he lifts his head a little, forehead resting against your temple, nose nuzzling your cheek. Once again, your wish is his command. His palm engulfs your throat, fingers applying the perfect pressure on your pulse points. So perfect that your eyes roll back and your hips stutter, while his don't falter even a little, maintaining their intense rhythm.  

 “Hyuckie,” You whisper the loving nickname weakly, too lost in the daze, not able to care about how vulnerable you sound. You need him to know how fucked up he's got you. “Can I cum? Please?” 

 “Fuck, you're so cute.” Haechan whines, the tenderness in his voice contrasting his demanding thrusts. “It’s okay, baby, Huyckie's got you.”  

 His sweet, reassuring words combined with every single of your nerve endings being stimulated to the max, send you into an all-consuming climax. Just a couple more thrusts and your pussy squeezes him so tight, kneads his shaft in rhythmic pulses, to the point you’re worried you might actually push him out, but you’re so thankful he doesn’t let up.

His hips smack into yours harder, faster, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he can. Your muscles spasm from the aftershocks, hands grabbing onto his back, legs quivering around his waist. And just when you’re floating in bliss - body and mind feeling light and fuzzy - you utter something that would have shocked you, weren't you in this delirious state.  

 “Hyuck?” Your voice comes out shaky and breathless. “You’re still my best friend, right?”  

He stills for a moment, slamming deep inside you, pulling a yelp out of you.

 “What the fuck.” He growls out, sounding enraged as well as surprised. His cock kisses your cervix, before it drags against your incredibly sensitive walls, the pleasure bordering pain when he starts fucking you like he wants to punish you, your body torn between needing a way out and begging for everything he’s giving you. Especially when he sounds so wrecked. “You can’t say that unless you want me to nut inside you.”  

 “Yeah, please.” You put on the whiniest voice you can, hoping he cracks. “Want it.”  

You've already lost the battle. You might as well act reckless now.

 “Jesus fuck.” He pants in awe. “Are you insane or did I actually fuck you stupid?”

The blissed-out laugh that rolls out of you, makes you sound completely dumb and out of breath. Maybe he did fuck you stupid.

An arm slings around your shoulders securely, holding you close as he grabs onto your thigh with his free hand, hooking your leg higher on his waist. His thrusts are messy now, cock stuffing you in uncoordinated short plunges, slipping out a few times due to the wetness, but quickly finding its way back in your quivering hole. 

 “I’m such a good bestie, right?” You prod, loving his little whines and how responsive he's suddenly become.  

 “Yes, baby, you're so so good to me.” His blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, harsh breaths hitting your collarbone in hot puffs. He’s slightly trembling and your heart aches a little at how pliant with need his is, how soft his skin feels on yours, so you thread your fingers through his messy hair, caressing gently to offer some relief as he nears his peak. “Oh fuck... oh god—I’m gonna—” 

 “That's it.” You praise in a whisper, struggling to keep your legs spread wide open for him, toes curling from the overstimulation, breaths stuttering against his neck. "Please please, cum in me, wanna feel you." 

 “Shit, ffffuck—I’m cumming... I’m cumming.” He moans, all strained from the building pressure, and then he’s visibly shaking, his whole length burying deep inside, to the hilt, as his hot cum paints your walls in quick spurts, filling up your spent pussy, just like you begged him to. He's so vocal; mewls and broken whines rolling out of him as he delivers a few more messy pumps that turn into languid grinds. 

 You can’t help but moan with him, clenching on purpose to milk everything out of him, loving the claim he’s laying upon your body. And when he lifts his weight a little, just to look down, you find the most sinful sight. He grinds one last time before pulling out slowly, the head of his softening cock bumping into your clit, making you flinch while smearing both your releases all over your puffy folds.  

 “Shit.” He exhales in wonderment, damp chest moving up and down, covered in pink blotches, giving his already pretty skin a breathtaking glow.  

 Your hand moves on its own, in need to feel the mess you've both created. Your let your fingers dip between your wet folds, shamelessly stroking up and down your slit, his intense gaze spurring you on as you gather some of his cum that’s already started to spill out. You revel in the fascination his eyes hold as they follow your every move carefully.  

 Your lips wrap around your index and middle fingers while holding his gaze. His tongue dips out to lick at his bottom lip as he takes in the sinful act with furrowed brows, like he's angry.

Before you can put on more of a show, his hand is on your jaw, your fingers ripped out of your mouth as his tongue replaces them, shoving into your mouth like he just needs a taste, prying your lips open without hovering for permission.  

 And then he abruptly breaks the kiss with a wet smack. Wild eyes find yours again when he mutters quietly, “Do you want all of it?”  

 You know what he's implying. You know you should refuse. You really should.

But you nod instead. 

 He doesn’t waste time. Just shuffles down, head buried between your thighs in record time, tongue eagerly licking all over your folds. You flinch when his nose nudges against your clit, mouth greedily sucking at your entrance to gather as much of his cum as he can. It feels soothing in a way, as opposed to the tingling sensation his cock left behind after the repeated stretch. You know you’ll feel sore tomorrow, but you focus on his soft lips, sighing out in relief at the lazy laps.  

 It ends before the pleasure can start building back up, and he’s hovering above you again, shielding your naked body from the cool air of the room. His mouth is just above yours, sealed tight as he awaits.  

 You cup his face in your hands to pull him closer before parting your lips for him, tongue sticking out flat. You let a moan slip when he lets your combined juices mixed with his spit dribble onto your awaiting mouth. You can only close your eyes when you briefly taste and then swallow the thick and slightly salty substance.

And then he's slotting his lips with yours again, kissing you slowly this time, tongue gliding savouringly against yours until you're out of breath and your lips feel numb.

He hesitantly pulls away with a little nip on your bottom lip, before he licks at the corner of his mouth, where some of his - or your - saliva has smeared.   

 “Well, that fucking escalated.” He says with a tired, amused sigh.

You don't even try to tone down your staring as you take in his flushed face, slightly baffled expression making you smile. 

 “In a good way?” You test, letting out an exhale of your own when he drops his weight on you carefully. He rests his head on your chest, cheek squishing just above the swell of your left boob, exactly where your heart threatens to jump out of. The softness in his actions helps your limbs relax a little.

He hums contentedly when you run a hand through his hair, combing through the fluffy strands absentmindedly.   

 “A little too good, unfortunately.” He teases, tone playful as always.  

 “Mm, sorry, I guess.” You play along, eyes closing briefly when his warm palm engulfs the breast he’s not using as a headrest. He kneads the supple flesh gently. Then just holds.

 “Maybe it’s a sign.” He says quietly, sounding like he’s in deep contemplation.  

 “That we’re both equally deranged?” You joke with a soft chuckle. 

“That too. But also, that you've been fucking the wrong people.” He states, like it’s the only explanation. 

“And fucking my best friend is so right.” Your tone is sarcastic, but it holds truth. How is this right?

He chuckles lightly, warm breath hitting your skin. “Didn't feel wrong, I'll tell you that for free.”

“Aren't you sweet.” You tug a little harder on his hair — a silent warning.

“No, seriously, though.” He traces the underside of your breast with his thumb, slightly tickling you. “There's obviously tension.”

You don't confirm or deny. “Okay, and? What's your point?”

“Maybe we should just fuck it all out.” He suggests a little too casually.

 “Isn’t that what we just did?” You keep playing with his hair, needing a distraction from the slightly confusing conversation. 

 He tilts his head up to look at you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, brown eyes glimmering with mischief in the soft lighting of his living room, like he's unlocked something that maybe should've stayed hidden.

“I dunno,” Haechan mutters, voice sounding honey-like. “Do you feel like you’re done with me?”  

 The quickening of your heartbeat and the strange, tingly feeling that still lingers in your tummy are enough of an answer.  

“I think we’re all very excited to see where you go in your culinary journey,” the host smiled. “Any final takeaways from this whole experience?”

Another gasp for air, the cogs in your mind turning at a rapid pace. “I think, at the end of the day, food and cooking for others, that’s my love language, and I’m never going to stop doing what I love.” 

One:

Since gaining your title as Top Cook two years ago, you’ve written a cookbook and done several private catering events for the filthy rich, but you’ve never been in a home like this one. 

It’s an ultra-modern design, all right angles and large glass windows to let in the LA sunshine. The interior is very minimalistic, but it’s clear to you that every piece of furniture is expensive, and the home smells brand new, as if the man next to you is a real estate agent and not the manager of your new client.

Doyoung is a regal man. He’s dressed in a suit, and his hair is styled just so. He’d already explained to you that he works for his cousin, Jaehyun, who is a renowned professional basketball player whose contract was recently renewed with a groundbreaking salary bump.

He’d explained that Jaehyun is in need of a personal chef. That he’d already had a dietician do a full diagnostic, the details of which are in an inch-thick folder he’d handed to you. So here you are, carrying around your new research material, as Doyoung shows you the home. 

“This is where you’ll primarily be working,” Doyoung explains as you enter one of the most beautiful kitchens you’ve ever seen. Sure, it’s a little medical in its all white template, but the marble countertop of the oversized island is spectacular, and the gas stovetop looks custom and extremely expensive. 

“You’re free to arrange things in here however you’d like, and that goes for the outdoor kitchen as well.” Doyoung leads you through a set of adjoining French doors. 

It’s as if you’ve stepped onto the set of Barbecue Masters or something- there’s an entire covered outdoor cooking space. You immediately notice three different smokers and a pizza oven, along with every other appliance you could ever need for barbecue. 

“I presume you’re familiar with everything you see here?” Doyoung asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing thickly. It’s not entirely a lie; you recognize all the tools, but you can’t say you’ve used all of them. But… how hard can it be to look up how to properly use an egg smoker? 

“I’ll let you get acquainted with everything later, but for now, I’ll show you where you’ll be living.”

To your surprise, Doyoung doesn’t go back to the main house; he continues through the outdoor kitchen. You stumble to follow, tripping over yourself as you walk past the large pool. 

“This is a casita that we had built before Jaehyun moved in,” Doyoung explains, punching a code into the keypad that lets him open the door. “It’s one thousand square feet, fully furnished, includes a kitchen, living room, flex area, bedroom, ample closet space, and one bathroom.”

Now he definitely feels like a real estate agent. 

“Since you’ll be Jaehyun’s chef, you’ll be living on the property for the duration of your time of employment. We did discuss this over the phone when I conducted your first interview.”

“That’s correct,” you nod. 

“You’ll find Jaehyun’s schedule for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in your folder,” Doyoung tells you. “Other than those three meals, prep time, and clean up, you’re free to do as you wish. We have many facilities on the property, and you are welcome to them.”

“Only three meals a day?” you question. “Am I on call for random snacking or spur-of-the-moment munchies?”

Doyoung cocks his head at you. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. Jaehyun parties too much. He eats too much junk food and drinks too much alcohol. The new food schedule and hiring you as his private chef are measures intended to get him onto a regimented track so he doesn’t mess up this new contract and opportunity with his basketball career.”

“Oh.” You think about it for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Jaehyun will not be doing any of the shopping. If he tries to ask you for Takis, chips, or beer, you are to say no. The only ingredients bought should be things that are necessary for his meals. You also have a live out allowance of two hundred dollars a day to buy any food you’d like for yourself, other than what you cook for him. All details about that are in your folder.”

“I’ll take some time to look over it,” you assure him.

“Good.” Doyoung lets out a sigh, as if this whole introduction had been tedious for him. “Now, I’ll introduce you to Jaehyun, and we will conclude the tour.”

You set the folder down and follow Doyoung from the casita. While you’d seen the outdoor kitchen and pool part of the yard, it turns out there’s an entire basketball court just out of view, and that’s where you find one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. He’s practicing shooting hoops, and as you stand there and watch, you see five hoops in a row before he turns to you.

“Oh my God, you’re y/n!” Jaehyun’s eyes light up, and he jogs over, holding out a hand for you to shake. 

As you’re reaching for it, he abruptly pulls back.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty.” Jaehyun rubs his palms on his red jersey, and you can see his cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. 

This is the pro basketball player who just signed on for a multimillion-dollar contract? He’s way too boyish- 

“I’m uh, a huge fan from your Top Cook days,” Jaehyun admits, having a second go at shaking your hand.

“You are?” you ask in shock. 

“Definitely, the season you were on was showing during the time when I was first hired for my current team. The guys all watch Top Cook on flights and other shit, we were all on your side to win the finale.”

You can’t wrap your head around a basketball team watching competitive cooking shows in their free time.

“I uh, actually requested you by name,” Jaehyun says shyly. “When Doyoung said I needed a private chef, you were the only person I wanted to hire.”

You’d assumed Doyoung had scouted you out, and there’s something special about the fact that Jaehyun had been the one to actually make the choice.

“I always sort of resonated with what you said about food and love languages. I grew up in Korea, but I did most of my schooling in Connecticut, and we had this one maid or housekeeper or whatever you want to call her, and she was like my second mom,” Jaehyun admits. “She always said the same thing about cooking for the soul and from your heart, and no dish is complete without a bit of love sprinkled in- I know it’s kind of cringy, but I don’t know. You kind of remind me of her, in some twisted way.” 

So… this man has some mommy issues, some issues about transference of affection to a housekeeper, maybe a maid who cooked for him, and now you’ll be the woman of the house who controls his diet. This isn’t a psychological madhouse at all. 

“I appreciate that you thought of me,” you end up saying, choosing your public relations training over verbalizing what’s going on inside your head. “This is a wonderful opportunity, and I can’t wait to get started.”

“I have a meeting,” Doyoung sighs, “But here’s your credit card for purchasing food, your folder explains where receipts will go for accounting purposes, and here are the keys to one of the SUVs to make grocery runs or other trips.” 

As you take the keys and credit card, there’s a shiver that runs through you. You’re really doing this. Taking a live-in private chef job for a young basketball star who’s apparently obsessed with you hadn’t been your first intention when you won Top Cook, but fuck it, the money is too good to pass up on. 

Two:

You’ve been working for Jaehyun for about a week now, and you already feel like you’re acclimatizing to the schedule. 

Jaehyun works out every morning, and the breakfast you provide for him afterward is his jumpstart to the day. You make up three plates, one for Jaehyun, one for Doyoung, and Jaehyun had insisted you make one for yourself as well.

You pick at your food while cleaning the kitchen, and Doyoung goes over the schedule for the day with Jaehyun in the dining room or outside by the pool deck. 

Lunch is more sporadic, and Jaehyun favours easy handheld items. His favourite seems to be various meats with parilla leaf or veg, but he’s also up for shawarma wraps, burgers, and anything he can shovel into his mouth- as long as it fits a detailed protein-to-carb ratio as outlined in the folder you’ve done your best to memorize. 

Dinners are the most elaborate, but you enjoy cooking them the most. Jaehyun’s not very picky, so you’ve had the freedom to branch out and try cooking things that many clients would reject. 

Fridays are the one day of the week when a lean dessert is allowed, so tonight, you’re making green tea frozen yogurt. The sun has set, and dinner was over an hour ago. You’ve cleaned up the kitchen while the ice cream maker quietly whirls next to you, and you’re so focused you don’t even realize Jaehyun has entered the kitchen until he says, “Hi.”  

Your body reacts, jolting with shock, and you spin to look at your client.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, dimples on display as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“The frozen yogurt will be ready soon,” you assure him.

“I’m not in a rush,” he tells you, sitting at the large island countertop. “Doyoung just left, and it’s been a busy week. I haven’t been able to talk to you much, so I figured now would be a good time to get to know you better.”

Your heart thumps roughly in your chest, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Oh.” You pat your hands on your apron, deciding to finish up your morning prep after Jaehyun is gone so you can give him your full attention. “What do you want to know?”

“I mean… tell me about being a private chef?” he suggests. “I seriously thought you’d do the whole restaurant thing; it seemed like that was a dream of yours.”

You consider his question. “Honestly, I know I’m young, and I think I was intimidated by the… caliber of chefs I was contending with. Winning Top Cook was one thing, but competing in the restaurant industry is an entire other monster.”

“I can understand that.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Did you ever feel apprehensive when you got into basketball?”

“I mean, if you spend the whole time looking around at the other players, you’re never going to dunk any hoops.”

A giggle escapes you, and you quickly cover your mouth. Jaehyun grins, chuckling along with you at the metaphor he’s just used. 

“I think I just had to hope my reputation and skills preceded me, especially since I started pretty young,” Jaehyun admits. 

“I suppose you’re right,” you agree. “It might be a little different, though. I mean, some people are very familiar with my work, but it’s a bit of a niche. I’m sure you get recognized everywhere you go.” 

Jaehyun only shrugs. “I think you’re pretty cool. Most of my team would recognize you on the streets.”

“Well, I’m flattered to hear that.” 

Jaehyun smiles, looking down at his hands for a moment. “That reminds me, some of my teammates are coming over on Tuesday for dinner, I hope that’s okay.”

“Definitely. What would you like me to cook for them?”

The basketball star considers it for a moment. “I want to say elevated but simple, and my mind keeps going to burgers for some reason.”

“I can elevate a burger,” you assure him. “We could do bison or lamb instead of beef if you want, that sort of thing, add cheese to the patty depending on what you prefer.”

“That sounds good,” Jaehyun nods. “Surprise me.”

“Will do.” Yet another instance of you having creative freedom, and it feels so good.

“I uh… I should warn you, most of the guys coming are pretty charming- not as charming as me-”

“Of course not,” you giggle.

Jaehyun grins. “They all love you from your time on Top Cook. Some of them were pretty pissed when I was able to hire you. So… don’t let any poach you away from me, okay? No matter how charming they are.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty impervious to flirting.”

Jaehyun lets out a laugh. “You are, huh?” 

“I’m single and I’m focused on food, so you could say I’m married to being a chef.”

“Right, food is your love language,” Jaehyun nods. “It’s nice to know you’re loyal.”

“To a fault, at times,” you admit.

“Making a living doing what you love is important,” Jaehyun notes. “We’re lucky we’re both able to do that, even if it can get in the way of… You know, other relationships.”

Money and Love can often get muddled, and to pursue one can sometimes mean giving up the other, at least for a short while. 

Before the conversation gets too deep, you realize the ice cream maker has finished, and the topic changes, which is a nice reprieve. 

Three:

You had decided to do two different types of burgers, a lean bison option, and a fattier lamb version, too. Both have their own cheese pairings, and other elaborate mixtures such as an olive tapenade and yogurt for the lamb, and smoky chipotle bacon jam for the bison.

While you cook at the outdoor barbecue, the boys are littered around the pool area. A few had been kind of star-struck when they met you, but none more so than Johnny, who has taken to standing next to you and discussing food pairings.

Johnny is a hundred percent hitting on you, but he’s also making cocktails for his teammates, cracking jokes like, “Maybe you should hold off on the sweeteners, Mark, we’ve already got the sweetest chef in town,” and other cringy one-liners that make you laugh and shake your head.

Finally, Johnny lets out a sigh. “I’ll talk business now, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means.”

“What’s Jae paying you? Because I will pay more.” 

You look over at Johnny, and then your eyes find Jaehyun, who’s watching you from a lounger. He’s been watching you and Johnny a lot, and you realize that Johnny is the man Jaehyun was worried about poaching you.

While you’re not huge into basketball, you know about Johnny Suh. He’s a little older than Jaehyun, and he’s had good contracts for longer, too, so he could definitely afford more for a private chef than rising star Jaehyun.

“I don’t think I’m at liberty to discuss my salary,” you admit.

“That’s a rich person's answer,” Johnny laughs. “Your PR training is kicking in, little Miss Top Cook.”

Jaehyun stands in the periphery of your vision, and he comes to join you at the barbecue.

“You’re trying to poach my chef, aren’t you, Suh?” he asks.

“Maybe.” Johnny only grins. “It would be stupid of me not to try.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not entertaining his monkey business,” you tease.

“That’s my girl,” Jaehyun nods, and a jolt fires through you.

This type of brush with wealth is somewhat new to you. Most private catering events are a one-and-done type of deal, where other prospective clients have no worries about approaching to enquire about your services.

Being a private chef to a basketball star is a whole different ball game - pardon the pun - and you’re becoming increasingly aware that being a cute, young female in this style of industry must be something of a commodity. 

Regardless of the money, however, you’re very happy working for Jaehyun, and although he’s given you a few flirty glances, you know he respects you for your talent as a chef, and not just your body. He gives you freedom, and now that you’ve had a taste of that, you’re not willing to give it up- even if a six-foot-plus gorgeous basketball star named Johnny is promising to make all your dreams come true. 

Four:

You’ve been working for Jaehyun for two months now, and things are going very well. While there are some flirty interactions with Jaehyun, for the most part, everything is professional and easy, and you couldn’t wish for a better job.

You’re cleaning up the kitchen after making breakfast for Jaehyun and Doyoung, and while your mind is half consumed with scrubbing grease off the stove, in the back corner of your periphery, you hear the words, “PR relationship.”

Trying not to make it obvious you’re listening, you slow down on your cleanup. 

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Jaehyun sighs.

“PR relationships are always contracted to be mutually beneficial,” Doyoung insists. “Rose is an up-and-coming model, and her manager sent over a proposal. It’s very… Kendall Jenner and Blake Griffin, or any of the other relationships she was in with big-name men that the public saw as potentially PR related. It could be good for your image.”

“Right,” Jaehyun chuckles. “Kendall Jenner and Blake Griffin, or any of the other relationships she was in… I don’t want to be just ‘one of those guys.’” 

“It would draw in viewership,” Doyoung points out. “There’s a whole audience of young women who are interested in Rose but not in sports. If Rose comes to your games, it would potentially draw more fans, more revenue, more-”

“Money,” Jaehyun cuts his cousin off. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Meanwhile, Rose will gain attention from the sports world. She could come to events, meet your team, and open up brand deal opportunities.”

“I get the reason why people do PR relationships,” Jaehyun repeats. “But I don’t think that’s something I ever want to try. You know how it is, some famous athlete starts dating a superstar, and his game goes downhill.”

“This isn’t about Travis Kelce,” Doyoung tuts.

“I didn’t say his name, you did.”

You can practically hear Doyoung roll his eyes. “I must insist that the two of you meet each other. Your opinion on Rose might change over some dinner.”

“As long as it’s dinner here and not some bougie restaurant.” 

There’s silence for a few moments, then Doyoung sighs. “Fine. I have a meeting to go to, but I’ll set up the date.”

“The meet up,” Jaehyun corrects.

Doyoung clicks his tongue as he collects his belongings, and as he exits through the kitchen, he stops at the island counter. “Please plan for a special meeting this Thursday between Jaehyun and a VIP,” Doyoung tells you. “The VIP is vegan, so you’ll have to work around that.”

You turn to face him, nodding as you wipe your hands on the apron. “Absolutely.”

“A cocktail pairing would also be nice.”

“I’ve got a few in mind already,” you assure him.

Doyoung nods, and with that, he exits. 

Once it’s clear Doyoung is gone, Jaehyun enters the kitchen with a sigh. “Did you hear any of that bullshit?”

“Bits and pieces,” you respond.

“Can you believe he’s trying to set me up with a model?”

“And a vegan, at that,” you sympathize with a laugh.

“I don’t think I’ll survive this.”

“I can sneak some meat onto your plate or something,” you tell him. “The only problem will be you won’t be able to kiss her after, because, you know, that might be considered a vegan lack of consent or something.”

Jaehyun stares at you in shock for a moment, then a laugh bursts out of him. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“I’d hardly say you agreed to it. Doyoung strong-armed you,” you point out.

“So you were listening,” Jaehyun teases.

“I find it interesting, is all.” You shrug. “I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with this type of thing. I’m just a D-list celebrity chef.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“Not bad, just a fact.”

“Well, you’re an A-lister to me, so watch out for PR relationship requests.”

“I’m so scared,” you joke. 

“You should be,” Jaehyun teases, and you both laugh at the notion. 

Being with Jaehyun is so easy, and you wonder in what ways you’ll have to censor yourself when it comes time for this ‘date’ with Rose.

Five:

Rose has only been here for ten minutes, and you can practically feel the awkwardness radiating from the dining room as you finish up dinner.

The model is dressed in a skimpy little outfit. She has a black miniskirt and a red, silky, patterned shirt that looks like it could be a scarf she’s simply repurposed. Her stilettos look uncomfortable at best, and the amount of filler in her lips and face would be outlandish even by doctor standards.

But… you’re trying not to judge, as you toss the vegan salad, and cook the vegan mushroom steak with vegan coconut thai soup.

The cocktails you had prepared are a coconut base too, but you’ve already heard Rose make a statement about coconuts being high in calories so… well, you’re not sure how any of this will be received. 

Jaehyun is much quieter than usual; however, from how much Rose is gushing about her different modeling gigs, and being in Italy, and Paris, and France, and God knows where- it’s not like the basketball player has much room to voice his own opinion.

As you begin plating, you sense eyes on you, and you look up to see Jaehyun.

“Give me a moment,” he excuses himself from the dining room, quickly joining you by the stove. “Oh, great, mushrooms and vegan things!” he says loudly.

“Are you okay?” you whisper as you plate. 

“This is the worst idea Doyoung has ever had,” he says back under his breath.

“You’re doing great.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just sitting there while she talks at me.”

You stifle a laugh. “It will be over before you know it.”

“It will be, which is why,” Jaehyun takes a breath, increasing the volume of his voice, “I insist you join us for supper.”

“Huh?” You nearly drop the tweezers you’re using to put the final garnish on the dishes.

“Have dinner with us,” Jaehyun repeats. “This is me insisting.”

Your gaze moves to the dining room, and Rose is glaring at you. If her eyes had lasers, you - along with the entire kitchen - would be lit aflame.

“I couldn’t possibly intrude-” you try to weasel your way out of it, but Jaehyun flashes you a hard look.

“I insist,” he says, yet again, and you realize you’ve lost.

With a sigh, you grab two of the plates, and to your surprise, Jaehyun grabs the third, following you to the dining room. You hesitantly place Rose’s food down, and then Jaehyun’s.

“So, Rose, I don’t know if you know my chef. Her name is y/n, and she won Top Cook, which is a super intense, very competitive cooking show,” Jaehyun explains. “I personally requested her, because she’s very renowned. She’s written a cookbook and done many private events. She’s just amazing.”

You stand there in shock at what Jaehyun has just said. On instinct, you begin to regurgitate what the dinner is tonight, and Rose watches you with narrowed eyes.

“So, the soup is coconut cream-based?” she asks.

“With vegetable broth.”

“It’s so thick,” she grimaces, swirling a spoon in the beautiful orange curry liquid. “And so high calorie.”

“Well, in this house, we cook for flavour and substance,” Jaehyun says pointedly as he takes his seat. “But there’s salad for you.”

Now Rose is glaring at Jaehyun, who simply smiles to himself as he takes his first taste of the soup. 

“Oh my god, I wouldn’t even be able to tell this is vegan, amazing job,” he tells you.

Rose audibly rotates her plate so she has the salad in front of her, and then, she begins to pick at it.

“So what inspired the food?” Jaehyun asks, giving you his full attention.

“Well, some people use mushrooms to substitute for meat. It’s not unusual for a large slab of meat to be on top of a currey or ramen bowl, so I wanted to do that for the mushroom.” You feel like your words are getting away from you, and you’re so uncomfortable to be in this position that you can hardly think.

“Turns out Rose doesn’t really like coconut drinks,” Jaehyun muses, already reaching for the untouched glass, “how about you enjoy it since she won’t.”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“You really should,” Jaehyun corrects you. “I’m not supposed to drink alone, says that somewhere in the instruction manual Doyoung gave you, right?” 

You suppose that’s true, so you take a sip of the coconut margarita. 

Jaehyun begins to talk about all the food you’ve cooked since becoming his personal chef, and before you know it, he’s done eating. With a happy sigh, he pushes his plate away, and you jump at the opportunity to grab it and escape to the kitchen. 

You begin your cleanup routine, happy to be out of the awkward situation. But you can still hear Jaehyun and Rose talking, and Jaehyun is very clear when he says, “This isn’t going to work.”

“It would be good for our careers,” Rose argues.

“My career is set already, but thank you for your concern.”

“So that’s it?” she gasps. “After I wore entirely designer, got my hair done, did everything for you-”

“You could have shown up in Fashion Nova, and this still wouldn’t have worked,” Jaehyun tells her. 

“Well, this was a waste of time.”

“Might as well not waste any more.” 

You hear chairs scraping as both people stand up, and the clickity clack of Rose’s high heels as Jaehyun escorts her to the front door. 

“See ya,” Jaehyun says, and then shuts the door heavily.

He releases a sigh, and then he comes back into the kitchen. “So,” he huffs, “what’s dessert?”

“Vegan avocado chocolate mousse,” you laugh, pulling two out of the fridge. 

“Sounds horrible,” Jaehyun groans, but he picks up a spoon to take a bite. You watch his expression change, brows raising. “Is there anything you can’t make taste good?” 

You laugh. “I’m not allowed to disclose that, and as per our contract, I’d never be allowed to feed it to you anyway.”

Six:

It’s the morning after the failed date, and Doyoung is not happy. He’s been bitching at Jaehyun all throughout breakfast, and the basketball player has simply been taking it while he eats.

Finally, Jaehyun speaks. “Look. I’m not an actor. I’m an athlete. If you think for one moment I could pretend to be interested in Rose, then you don’t know me as my manager, or as my cousin.”

Silence ensues, and you’re shocked that Jaehyun has found a way to leave Doyoung - ever the anxious ranter - speechless. 

“We’re not doing some dumb PR bullshit, especially with the preseason training coming up,” Jaehyun says, and there’s authority in his voice, which is very unlike him. “In fact,” you hear his utensils scraping as he cleans his plate, “I want to go for a week's vacation. Somewhere warm. Maybe Mexico. I’m going to chill out for a bit, bring y/n to cook, and get my head in the game.”

Another period of quiet, and then Doyoung sighs. “Fine. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Air BnB,” Jaehyun tells him. “Something nice, not in a huge tourist spot, with a pool. And see if any of my teammates want to come, I think we all need some preseason fun.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Seven:

It’s interesting being the personal chef for Jaehyun’s impromptu preseason trip to Mexico. For starters, you’re cooking for Jaehyun and a number of his teammates. Jungwoo eats like a sumo wrestler, Hyuck is constantly snacking, Mark hardly eats at all, and Johnny… well, he’s still hitting on you.

Jaehyun had insisted that you would only be dealing with two meals every day, and he’d also gotten every teammate to help pay for your extended services on this vacation, which is a nice bump in pay.

Right now, you’re cooking lunch, and Johnny is attached at your hip.

“It’s been four days and I’m still obsessed with everything you make,” the tall man muses, watching you prepare the cold Thai noodle salad with grilled chicken. “Do you ever run out of ideas, or is this a twenty-four-seven recipe machine sort of deal?”

 You laugh. “There are so many different combinations,” you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever run out of ideas.”

“That’s such a Top Cook answer,” Johnny scoffs. “When are you going to loosen up a little and drop the PR angle with me?”

“While I’m on the clock, never.”

“Boring. I should get you off the clock sometime.”

“I don’t think I have an opening in my schedule anytime soon.”

“Jaehyun doesn’t need you all the time,” Johnny points out. “I’m sure I could steal you away for a drink or something.”

“I don’t think so.” Your eyes move to the doors that open to the pool. Jaehyun is on a lounger, but it’s been clear to you that he’s not done much relaxing this trip.

Something is bothering him, and for some reason, that bothers you too.

Jaehyun sits up, and he turns to meet your gaze. 

“Give me a moment, Johnny,” you say, excusing yourself to approach the stressed basketball player outside. “Are you alright?” 

Jaehyun sighs. “Just thinking a lot.”

“About Rose?”

“Not really. Well, yes, and no. I don’t know.” Jaehyun shakes his head. “I thought being here with my teammates would help me distract myself from a few things, but I’m still feeling… bleh.”

“Can I make you a drink, or bring you a snack?”

Jaehyun stares at you for a moment. “I think… maybe I need to get out of here. As much as I love your cooking, and I know you’ve planned dinner already, how do you feel about going out somewhere? Just the two of us?”

You consider his request for a moment. While Jaehyun frequently asks you to eat with him, and you’ve eaten together many times, it’s always been with you cooking. You’ve always felt like you’re still working, but going out to dinner with him- not being the person behind the dish- it feels different.

“I wouldn’t want to overstep-”

“You’re not overstepping,” Jaehyun assures you. “I’m inviting you.”

“What about your friends?”

“They can cook their own dinner tonight.”

Your eyes find Hyuck and Mark, neither of whom you trust, behind the barbecue.

“Johnny will take care of it,” Jaehyun says. “Let’s get dinner.”

“You know, Johnny just suggested I go out with him sometime, and I told him my schedule is pretty packed.”

“Well, he can cry me a river,” Jaehyun laughs. “We’re getting dinner.” 

Eight:

One thing that you’ve realized that Jaehyun appreciates about not being in tourist towns is that no one here knows who he is.

He’s not some professional basketball player that everyone is staring at and trying to get autographs from; he’s just Jaehyun, and you can see the way his shoulders relax as you order appetizers, then mains at the cute restaurant by the ocean.

“I feel like we should get a bottle of tequila or something,” Jaehyun muses, and your brows raise at him in response.

“Tequila?”

“It’s my vacation,” he insists. “I don’t know, maybe we could do something fun with it. Two truths and a lie or something.”

You consider it for a moment and decide that it is a vacation. 

You’ve been Jaehyun’s personal chef for a while now, and you’re allowed one night of letting loose.

“Fine,” you agree. “But we can’t tell Doyoung.”

“Was never planning on it,” Jaehyun grins, waving over a waiter.

A short while later, there’s a bottle of tequila in front of you, and two shot glasses.

“I’ll go first,” Jaehyun offers. “Two truths and a lie. I dislocated my shoulder when I was sixteen and almost stopped playing basketball altogether. My favourite author is Agatha Christie, and I have a record collection I’ve been working on since I was twelve.”

You think about it, staring at Jaehyun in the hope that something in his expression will tip you off.

“Reason says guess Agatha Christie is a lie, but on the flip side, you wouldn’t know who she was if you didn’t read her,” you point out. “And I doubt you’d ever actually consider quitting basketball, so… that one’s the lie.”

Jaehyun stares at you for a second, then he grins. “Drink up.”

“What?!”

“The lie was about my record collection. I started that in my last year of high school.”

“So wait, you’re saying you actually considered quitting basketball?” you ask in shock.

Jaehyun shrugs. “I was sixteen, I had no idea where life would take me.”

You shake your head in shock, accepting the shot in front of you.

As the harsh liquid goes down your throat, you try to think of your own two truths and a lie. “Okay,” you let out a breath. “I fell in love with cooking when I was younger and helped my mom prep for dinner parties she would throw. I hate cooking with innards like liver and kidneys, and I got my first KitchenAid mixer when I was twenty.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “You got your first Kitchenaid when you were sixteen, so that’s the lie. It’s no fun if you only do food-related ones. You talked about all three of those things on Top Cook.”

A wave of embarrassment floods through you, but also something a little like awe. You don’t even remember half of the things you said while on your season of the show, but it’s clear Jaehyun does.

“Take your shot,” he encourages you.

You glare at him as you do as you’re told, and the burn of the tequila is even worse than the first time.

“Fine, if you’re so good at this game, go again,” you tell him.

“Easy. I was the tiniest kid in my class in fifth grade, I went to boarding school in Connecticut, and even though I’ve had girlfriends, I’ve never really felt like anyone has loved me for me, at least, not the way I want them to.” 

You blink, considering the gravity of his last confession. That can’t be a lie… It’s too detailed, but… Jaehyun can’t really feel like no one has ever loved him, can he?

“Your lie is that you were the tiniest kid in your fifth-grade class,” you say quietly.

“Winner winner, chicken dinner,” Jaehyun sighs, lifting his shot of tequila.

“You really don’t think anyone has loved you?” you ask.

Jaehyun only shrugs. “I think any love pre-university was shallow, and anything after that was based on the fact that I was the star on my university basketball team and everyone knew I’d be going pro. So… you can’t really count any of those things, can you?”

You frown. It’s yet another difference in your celebrity statuses. Jaehyun has so much baggage from being an athletic prodigy his whole life- it’s very different from when you’re just a cute girl who knows how to cook.

“I think that’s why I like you so much,” Jaehyun admits. “I know you had no idea who I was when we met. My whole professional basketball thing didn’t mean anything to you; hell, you’ve catered for A-list actors and politicians and all sorts of people. You just treat me like a person, and that's kind of rare. Most people give at least a tiny shit about sports, but you seriously don’t give any.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I give a mini shit about sports.”

“Maybe just because you like me,” Jaehyun teases. 

“Who says I like you?”

“Your cooking,” he points out. “Your dedication to it.”

“Well, maybe you like me,” you counter.

“Maybe.” Jaehyun can only smirk, and you deflate immediately, your skin flushing with heat. 

It’s silent at your table, aside from the mariachi band playing, and you suddenly don’t know where to look.

“I… I think the tequila is getting to me,” you admit.

“Two shots can do that to a goodie-goodie professional Top Cook like you,” Jaehyun laughs. “Listen, let’s get the bottle to go, and we can go find ice cream or something. If it’s my cheat night on my diet, I need dessert.”

“Okay.” 

Soon, you find yourself sitting on a cement block overlooking the ocean. Jaehyun and you are both finishing up your ice cream, and your skin tingles every time your mind reminds you that - as natural as this feels - it also feels an awful lot like a date.

“So Johnny is still hitting on you, huh?” Jaehyun asks.

“How could you tell?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“Well, A, he sticks to your side like glue, and B, you mentioned he was trying to ask you out for dinner.” Jaehyun shakes his head at his own words, as if the behaviour of his teammate offends him on a deep level. 

You find yourself shrugging. “I’m not taking it too seriously.”

“I am.”

“Because you’re jealous.”

“Maybe.”

Another question answered with ‘maybe,’ and you’re starting to feel more and more like Jaehyun might actually have feelings for you. 

It’s not a foreign idea. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, if you hadn’t grown fond of him in the past months. 

You’re suddenly aware of Jaehyun watching you, and you turn to meet his gaze. The intensity of it makes you crumble immediately, and you blush, turning away. “What?” you ask, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Do I have ice cream on my lip or something?”

“Let me see.” Suddenly, two gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin, and he guides you to face him again. You freeze, staring at the beautiful man as he inspects you. “Nope, you’re perfect, as always.”

Jaehyun retracts his hand, and you swallow thickly, finding it more and more difficult to breathe. 

He looks out at the ocean, and you can tell that he’s lost in thought. “You know how I said I’ve never felt loved by a girl I’ve been interested in? I’m going to say something crazy, and I just need you to hear me out on it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I told you about my maid who was like a second mom, and how your cooking reminds me of hers. Well, I never questioned that she cared about me, and in a similar way, I guess, I don’t question that you care about me anymore either. And I mean that as more than just a boss, or a basketball player with a stupid diet. I know that you care, because I can taste it in the food. You’re like, a scheduled hit of dopamine every day, someone I can rely on, in a way I’m not used to relying on people.”

You simply stare at him, a loss for words, but when Jaehyun turns to meet your gaze, it’s clear he’s expecting some sort of reaction.

“I mean,” you swallow thickly, “I do care about you.”

“But you have that professional boundary,” Jaehyun points out.

“I have to. I can’t risk my job for a… a whim,” you tell him, finding it hard to choose the right words. 

“You’re so PR trained, but look, I have you tongue-tied,” Jaehyun grins.

“Stop it,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder. “You know what I’m saying.”

“What if I promise you won’t lose your job, that things won’t be awkward?”

“You can’t possibly promise that.”

“What if I promise that if we give this a try, and for any reason you want to pull away, I will release you from your contract and let you go work for Johnny, or set you up with someone else who needs a private chef?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything, just let me kiss you, and decide later.”

Jaehyun stares at you unmoving, and it’s clear he’s not going to jump the gun until you give him permission. All of your willpower is failing, and all you can do is look between his beautiful lips and his passionate dark eyes.

“You can kiss me,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” You can see the relief in his expression, and he shifts closer.

“We just won’t tell Doyoung,” you say, trying to make a joke of it.

Jaehyun lets out a laugh. “Definitely not.”

Both of you begin to lean in, and on a hillside looking over the Gulf of Mexico, professional basketball player Jung Jaehyun presses his lips to yours for the very first time.

All the thoughts dissipate from your head, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find Jaehyun still tastes like his chocolate ice cream. You’re nothing if not an avid lover of food and tastes, so you eagerly lean in for more, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth.

Jaehyun groans, his hand rising to cup your cheek as you both deepen the kiss. 

You’re so lost in him that you hardly think of anything else, and you lose yourself so completely that you don’t think to pull back.

The two of you kiss for a couple of minutes, so in tune with each other that there’s not one blunder, not one clash of teeth, or a breath hastily caught. 

It’s Jaehyun who actually pulls away, but he only does so because he can’t stop smiling. The two of you blink at each other as if seeing one another in a new light.

“I like you a lot,” Jaehyun admits.

“I like you too,” you assure him.

“Should we try to keep this a secret from the guys at the house? I might not be able to keep my hands off of you for the next couple of days while we’re here.”

You consider it. “The Top Cook in me says we should keep it secret, but something tells me that would be a disservice to both of us.”

“So you’re saying we can be open?”

You shrug. “Why not? Doyoung’s halfway across the continent.”

“Fucking Doyoung, I really need to have a talk with him about how judgmental he is.”

“He’s your cousin, he just wants what's best for you.”

“Well, he did manage to get you hired, so I guess I can’t fault him completely for being so anal.”

You laugh, pressing your lips to his again. “I guess not.”

Nine: 

By the time you’d gotten home after dinner and making out on the beach, everyone had gone to bed. With a few sneaky kisses, you and Jaehyun had gone to your separate rooms, and when morning comes, none of his teammates are any the wiser to what had happened last night.

Johnny is just as flirty with you as you make breakfast, but you leave it to Jaehyun to take the lead on letting his friends know that the two of you have taken a new step in your relationship.

To be fair, a bit of kissing doesn’t necessarily mean exclusivity, and you don’t want to make assumptions. 

Surprisingly, Jaehyun allows Johnny to flirt with you, but you can see him biding his time. 

When everything is done cooking and put onto plates on the dining room table, Jaehyun finally approaches you. 

He doesn’t say anything, simply grabs you by the hips and tugs you to his chest. His lips press against yours, a wordless affirmation to the world that you belong to him, in more ways than just being his private chef. 

Your skin heats with the embarrassment of feeling multiple eyes on you as Jaehyun kisses you, but you don’t pull away. You’ve decided to let Jaehyun lead, and that’s what he’s doing. 

When he finally does stop kissing you, he simply grins. “I think I want breakfast in my room, if you’re up for that.”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s saying, but when it clicks, you feel your skin heat even more.

“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “Yeah.”

It feels a little fast, if you’re being honest with yourself, but at the same time, you’d decided last night to fuck your public relations training and do what feels right.

You can still feel eyes on you as Jaehyun grabs your hand and leads you toward the primary suite in the Airbnb. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump in sooner,” you tell Jaehyun as the door to the bedroom closes behind you.

“You were working, I wasn’t about to try to pull you away from the middle of cooking,” Jaehyun laughs. “I know enough about you to know that probably would have only pissed you off.”

He does know a lot about you, and he understands you to the point that he can predict your reactions to things. It feels special, and you can feel your walls breaking down around Jaehyun every time he says something that points to his deep knowing of you.

“Why are you smiling?” Jaehyun asks, flashing a nervous smile.

“I guess I’m just thinking about how you get me.”

“I do get you,” Jaehyun muses, gently grabbing your hips and tugging you to his chest again.

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that,” you laugh, resting your hands on his strong shoulders.

“I know you probably think this whole thing is going a little fast-”

“Another way that you know me,” you giggle.

Jaehyun returns your grin. “We don’t have to… You know, fuck or anything right now, if you don’t want to. But I did mean it when I said I want breakfast in bed.”

“You do, do you?” you tease.

“Everything you cook tastes so good,” Jaehyun points out, his voice lowering as he moves forward, his lips ghosting over your ear, “I just know you taste good too.”

Your entire body tingles with his words. 

A professional basketball player who is offering to give head instead of insisting he receives it? 

You really have found yourself a winner, and no matter how much willpower you have, there’s not enough willpower in the world that could convince you to say no to an offer like this one. 

“Let’s start slow first,” you tell him.

“Whatever you want, angel.” Jaehyun presses his lips to yours, and your entire body is still tingling from the pet name and the anticipation of what comes next.

He’s such a good kisser, you become lost in him almost instantly, and you hardly realize as he slowly guides you back toward the bed.

Jaehyun is gentle as he helps you down onto the mattress, and you spread your legs to welcome his weight on top of you as you continue to kiss the breath away from each other.

He feels like heaven as he slowly begins to grind down against your core, and the summer dress you’re wearing makes it easier than ever to get the stimulation you want. You find yourself moaning against Jaehyun’s lips, and your sounds prompt him to begin exploring your body with his hand.

He’s careful as he moves to cup your breast, gently squeezing you through your bra. Jaehyun is testing the waters, and you make sure to give him sounds of affirmation that tell him you’re comfortable with what’s happening.

His lips move to your throat as he massages your breast, and you whimper into the quiet of the room, tangling your fingers in his silky dark hair. 

Jaehyun’s mouth continues to descend, and you adjust to slip your hands under your back, undoing your bra. You can feel him look up at you, brow quirked in a question, and when you pull the top of your dress and bra down to reveal your pebbled nipples, it’s as much of an answer to his nonverbal inquiry than anything could ever be.

He licks his lips, massaging your breast as he draws his mouth to your sensitive bud. He’s so soft at first, simply stroking his tongue along your hot skin, and when he begins to suck, you have to throw your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from releasing a loud moan.

Jaehyun chuckles against your skin, teasing your nipple and sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

You haven’t been fucked in so long. 

God, you’ve been so married to your work for the past two years that you haven’t gotten laid, and everything Jaehyun is doing feels like it’s the first time. Your body is awakening from its long slumber, and already, you can feel yourself becoming addicted to the pleasure that Jaehyun is providing you. 

Your hips begin to wiggle, and Jaehyun notices. His hand slips down from your breast, and he toys your dress higher up your thigh. He continues to suck on your nipple as his fingers tease past your panty line, stroking your inner thigh tantalizingly.

“Please,” you moan, knowing that this next step is preferable with a verbal affirmation. You don’t want there to be any confusion that you want this, and something tells you that Jaehyun cares a lot about consent- more so than the average professional athlete, or so you’ve heard. 

He rubs his fingers past your core, teasing you through your panties, and Jaehyun releases a groan. He pulls off your nipple, shifting so he can kiss your throat again.

His breath is hot against your skin. “You’re soaked, angel.”

“Just eager,” you tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed that your body is betraying you.

“It’s sexy,” Jaehyun tells you. “When was the last time someone touched you like this?”

You’re aware that he knows it’s been at least a couple of months since you’ve been without sexual contact, since he employed you. There’s nowhere in your contract that says you can’t have men over for personal reasons to your casita, and nowhere in your contract that says you couldn’t head out after dinner to have sex just as long as you’re back to make breakfast- but you’ve simply put all of your energy into this new job.

“A while,” you admit. 

“I’ll make this worth it then,” Jaehyun promises. 

With that, he slips his hand under your underwear, his fingers making direct contact on your sensitive core. He teases you, testing your wetness, before he gently circles your clit.

When you begin to moan, he presses his lips to yours, muffling the sounds with groans of his own. He continues to play with your clit, and then, his hand adjusts down. He stokes your slit, slowly pushing one finger into your core.

You whimper, your hips moving, searching for more stimulus. 

Jaehyun obliges, pushing another finger into your core. He shifts his hand, his palm rubbing your clit as he begins to finger fuck you, the pads of his digits crooking up to stroke your G-spot. 

You groan louder against his lips, your body moving of its own accord, grinding down against his hand.

“If you cum for me, I’ll eat you out,” Jaehyun smirks against your lips. 

“Then make me cum,” you respond, breathless.

Jaehyun only kisses you deeper, pressing his palm more firmly to your clit. He applies more pressure to your G-spot with his fingers, and you allow your body to get lost in the sensation.

Soon, you’re gasping, your muscles clenching tighter and tighter as your orgasm rises.

“Shit,” you whimper, the first time you’ve cussed in front of him. “I’m close.” 

“I want you so bad,” Jaehyun groans. “Want you to cum for me so I can finally taste you.”

His words tip you over the edge, and you shiver as your orgasm slams into you. You claw at his shoulders, biting your lip to muffle the sounds of pleasure that radiate from deep within you.

“So pretty like this, angel,” Jaehyun coos as he finger fucks you through your high, clearly intent on prolonging it. 

But all good things come to an end, and as your orgasm dissipates, you slump against the bed, breathing heavily.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” Jaehyun tells you, as he pulls his fingers from your core and gets off the bed. 

You watch him under half-shut lids as he licks his digits clean, groaning at your taste. And then, you remove your dress and bra. Jaehyun helps you with your panties, taking off his own shirt for good measure before he sinks to the ground on his knees next to the bed. 

His strong hands grab your ankles, and he pulls you to the edge of the mattress. His lips find their way up your calf and inner thigh, and he looks up at you, adjusting your legs over his shoulders.

“Eat me,” you tell him, the words coming out more shuddery than the confident way you’d intended them.

“If you insist,” he teases, and then, Jaehyun practically dives in.

Some men are more tentative about eating girls out, but to your surprise, Jaehyun’s not one of them. He has no fear about getting right up in your pussy, his tongue pushing in and licking at your walls as his nose bumps your clit deliciously.

“Fuck,” you groan, and you can feel Jaehyun smirk against your pussy in response. He licks the entirety of your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit. You jolt from the stimulus, thighs quaking on his shoulders.

His hands reach up to steady your legs, and he teases your clit, making you whimper.

“Feels good,” you tell him.

“Tastes good,” he counters, making butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Might insist on this for breakfast from now on.”

“Honestly,” you breathe a sigh of relief, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Might have to… what’s the word, amend your contract,” Jaehyun laughs.

“Fuck my contract.” The words come out of you so suddenly, you don’t even have time to think, and Jaehyun quirks a brow at your statement. “Can we talk about it later?”

“Of course, angel, there are more important things to focus on right now.” Jaehyun goes back to eating your pussy, his eyes closing as he sucks on your clit.

It’s clear he’s enjoying this too, and that only pleases you more. You close your own eyes, giving yourself over to the sensations as Jaehyun licks and sucks your sensitive pussy.

Soon, you’re once again on the edge, and you know Jaehyun can tell. He sucks your clit even harder, pushing two fingers into your wet hole to stroke the same spot that had made you come undone for him last time.

Your body tenses more and more, your breath coming out in gasps, and then, your second orgasm slams into you, making your toes curl. Your thighs go to close around Jaehyun’s head, but he holds you open with his free hand, eating you through your high. 

You can feel him everywhere, and there’s never been a devotion like his.

His entire focus is on giving you pleasure, and it radiates from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head. It’s a heavy, golden, somehow electric fog, and your entire body is tingling from its effects. 

Soon, you’re coming down, and Jaehyun pulls away from your core. He stands up, looking down at you.

“So that was breakfast and dessert,” he muses jokingly, “should we try a sneaky snack, too?”

“How about your fingers were breakfast, your lips were lunch, and now your cock is dinner?”

“That works for me,” Jaehyun chuckles.

God, you’re both such dorks, but you kind of love it.

The two of you just work in ways you can’t even describe. 

It’s a cellular level of connection, or perhaps a connection of souls, you can’t quite describe it.

Jaehyun takes off his pants, and as he goes to push down his underwear, he stops. “Condoms?” he asks. 

You blink at him. “I’m clean and on birth control.”

He pauses for a moment. “I can still wear a condom if you want, it’s up to you.”

“No condom,” you tell him after quick consideration.

“Sounds good, angel.” Jaehyun pushes his underwear down, and you find yourself staring at the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

It’s a good size, not too big, but not small by any means either. It’s got a nice pink tip, and as Jaehyun joins you on the bed, you promise yourself to suck him off sometime soon. But right now, you just need him inside of you, and Jaehyun is more than happy to oblige. 

You wrap your legs around Jaehyun, drawing him close. Your lips meet as his cock rubs between your pussy lips, teasing your clit deliciously.

His tongue gently strokes yours, and you find your own hand slipping between your bodies to line him up with your core. He pushes in slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his size.

The kiss breaks so you can moan, and his lips find your throat, worshipping you while inch after inch buries into your sensitive core.

You tangle your fingers in his silky hair, keeping him at his throat as he remains fully inside of you, and once you feel like you’ve adjusted, you draw his lips back to yours again.

“Okay,” you tell him. “Fuck me now.”

“Whatever you want, angel,” Jaehyun grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he begins to thrust.

He starts slow, clearly wanting to be gentle, but his pace picks up gradually, and you find yourself moaning from the sensation.

Missionary position is a very intimate position, and you love the way it gives access for kissing and stroking his shoulders, you play with his hair and press your breasts up against his chest, enjoying every minute.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met,” Jaehyun pants.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, unable to echo the sentiment.

It seems Jaehyun had been half in love with you since watching you on TV, but you’d never known who he was before Doyoung employed you, so you had no precedent on which emotions to reside. But you’ve grown to care about him, that much is true.

“Want everyone to know you belong to me now. We belong together,” Jaehyun groans.

“They’ll know,” you assure him, stroking his silky hair.

Jaehyun moans at your response, burying his face against your throat as he fucks you even harder.

“I’m close from eating you out,” he admits, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “but I want you to cum with me.” 

“I can get there,” you tell him, slipping your hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“Fuck, you just got so tight,” Jaehyun practically whimpers. “Fuck Doyoung for ever trying to set me up with a fucking model.” 

“Silver linings,” you laugh, and the laugh turns into a whimper as you rub your clit even harder.

“Made me realize I only wanted you,” Jaehyun admits. 

“Lucky me,” you giggle, your core getting tighter around Jaehyun’s cock as you get closer and closer to the edge.

He’s such a simp, but you kind of love it.

You know he’s in deeper than you are, but you can see yourself falling fast now that you’ve taken the leap, so you give yourself over to the feeling that’s beginning to bubble inside of you.

“Okay, I’m close,” you tell him, more moans slipping from your lips as you rub your clit harder and harder.

“Want you to cum with me, please, fuck-” Jaehyun’s shivering with the effort of holding back his own high, waiting for you before he allows himself the release.

“Kiss me,” you tell him, feeling suddenly very dominant as you grab the nape of his neck, dragging his lips to your own.

You kiss him deeply, your chests pressed together, bodies fitting like puzzle pieces.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, and the moment your core clamps around Jaehyun, he explodes too.

You both moan desperately against each other’s mouths, gasping as your orgasms ravage your bodies with unthinkable pleasure.

All you can do is hold tightly to Jaehyun, allowing your highs to wash over you both in perfect harmony.

You’re both panting as you come down, holding onto each other like long-time lovers. 

This is the start of something good; of that, you have no doubts. 

Ten:

“Congratulations on yet another unprecedented win,” the reporter grins, standing next to Jaehyun on the side of the basketball court at the completion of a landslide win. “You’ve had an amazing start to the season, some would say it’s one of the most impressive starts for a newly signed player. What do you think has contributed to that drive you have?” 

“First, I want to thank my cousin, my manager, Doyoung, who’s the one who pushed me to get to this place in my life. And second, I want to thank my amazing girlfriend, y/n, who is up in the stands right there with my cousin. She’s the most amazing person in my life, she feeds me, body and soul, and everything I do is for her.”

“Social media platforms like X are buzzing about you and y/n, who, notably, is a winner and alumni of the hit TV show Top Cook. I saw a few TikToks of the two of you cooking together. How long have you been dating?”

“About six months.”

“So it’s still pretty new, huh?” the reporter laughs.

Jaehyun can only shake his head. “Look, when you know, you know. And we both know. I had a great game, a great night with the team, and all I can say is thank you to the fans, to the coaches, and thank you to all the loved ones who made this possible.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! life has been such a mess lately, but things are looking up and Halloween is right around the corner :)

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🔮 preview. “Want you to cum while fucking your dirty private chef on her new countertop,” you tease, knowing that Jaehyun’s always found the idea kinky and arousing. You’re his dirty private chef- or at least, you had been, and in a way, you always will be.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, sex in a kitchen, foreplay, dirty talk, praise, oral, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, mutual orgasms, blow job, teasing, slight man handling, pinning the reader's wrists, fucking on a counter, Jaehyun fucks the reader while she’s in a dress, etc…   I petnames. (hers) angel.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been three years since you and Jaehyun started dating, and things have changed in a way you never would have imagined. It hadn’t been ethical to continue as Jaehyun’s private chef, and the two of you had sat down to discuss options.

He’d suggested you try to build a TikTok following, and he’d convinced you that many people were still fans from your time on Top Cook. You could live with him, and he’d take care of everything as long as you continued to cook for him and worked on building your platform.

Pretty quickly, you realized that your specific relationship was a niche of its own. In an odd way, you got from Jaehyun what Rose had been attempting to secure. His fans flocked to your TikTok, and his teammates gushed about you and your cooking to help draw even more interest. 

You began to make decent money off your TikTok account pretty quickly into the process, and fans there suggested you make another book. So you’d worked on it, having a food-based TikTok with speckles of relationship vibes. Restaurants started inviting you and Jaehyun to dine for review, and Jaehyun helped open your world to an entire venue you never could have imagined.

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There were too many noises, the sounds of the whistle blowing through the air and the swimmers taking off into the water. There was chatter from each of the teams, making the environment seem louder. 

Your coach turns to you to speak, getting his familiar pep-talk ready. “You’ve done this a hundred times. This isn’t anything new. Trust your start, keep your rhythm, and finish strong. You know you’re good — now just go out there and show it.”

You nodded curtly and walked over to your position, the tile beneath your feet is cold and slick with water, but you barely feel it. Your heartbeat is louder than the crowd now, thudding steadily in your ears as you step toward the block. 

You exhale once, sharp and steady, then lift your gaze.

And there he is. 

Anton is already at his block, rolling out his shoulders and infuriatingly calm – as he usually is before a race. His body is all lean lines and strong muscles, but tense. His teammates watch from behind him, trading jokes and last-minute advice, but Anton isn’t really paying attention to any of it. 

He’s too busy looking at you. 

It’s quick, a flicker of his attention locking onto yours almost like it's purely instinctual. His gaze makes a nauseous twist sit in your stomach. His lips lift just barely, an infuriating smirk on his face. Provoking you. 

Maybe it was a challenge, maybe an invitation for something else. You couldn’t tell. You never could with him. 

You force your chin up, refusing to be the one who looks away first. Not today. You held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of smugness in his eyes burrow further beneath your skin. Anton didn’t blink, didn’t look away, not even when the starter's voice rang out in the humid air calling your attention. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, sizing you up – likely to see if you were the same girl he had beaten last month. He seemed to think he had you all figured out when he broke his gaze and let out a little chuckle to himself. 

The air was thick with the smell of chlorine and the adrenaline coursing through you. 

The whistle blew, the shrill sound cutting through the strong tension between the two of you. You got into position, your muscles coiled tight and ready. For a half-second, your focus drifted back to Anton, the cocky little tilt of his head and the flex in his own muscles as he took position. 

The buzzer sounded. 

You launched yourself, the world narrowing down to the rush of air and the cold feeling of the water on your skin. 

______

You barely had time to breathe and relish in your victory before Anton found you by the bleachers with your team. He started making his way over with the same infuriating smirk that was always on his face. Your skin was still wet as you met him halfway, not wanting your teammates to hear the bullshit he was most likely about to say. 

“Congrats,” he drawled, voice low. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Must’ve been luck, hm?” 

Gosh, he was insufferable. Your cheeks felt hot. 

You glared, pretending you didn’t notice the way his gaze slid over you. You also pretended you didn’t notice the way your skin prickled, blaming it mostly on the water giving you temporary hypothermia. 

“Luck?” you scoffed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “You can call it whatever you want.” Your voice surprised you – a little more breathless than you intended, but solid. 

Anton stepped closer, his presence cutting off the noise of the pool and the shouts of your teammates. You could smell the hint of chlorine and his body wash still clinging to him. For a second, you wondered if anyone was watching from the bleachers. If they could see your tense body language. It would be just your luck to have someone catch you even slightly flustered. 

“Or maybe you’ve just been watching me too much,” you added when he didn’t respond, your chin lifted. 

His mouth curved. It was most definitely a challenge. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said softly, but his gaze lingered on your lips. “I just like knowing you’re not as good as me. Makes it easier to win.” 

He was so close now, the heat of his body radiant against your skin. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you could feel it in your throat. 

You knew the smart thing to do would be to brush him off and walk away, remind him that he’s just a smug asshole who has nothing better to do than annoy you. But you didn’t. You stood your ground, matched him glare for glare, your lips tingling from the way his eyes kept sweeping over them.

“Oh is that what happened today?” you sneered, the words coming out lower than you intended. “Becuase it looked like you were chasing me for a while there. Couldn’t catch up?” 

He laughed, but the sound was softer than you’d expected. You saw his jaw flex, and for a moment the competitive edge in his eyes shifted to something else. Something heavier, darker, and more personal. 

Before you could analyze the look in his eyes, your coach’s voice sounded in your ears, telling your team to pack it up so that you could head out. 

Anton blinked slowly, a lazy grin curling at his lips before he stepped back, leaving you with your pulse jumping and a flush high on your cheeks. You turned and walked away, not daring to look over your shoulder even though you could feel his eyes burning between your shoulder blades. 

Your team packed up, voices buzzing with post-race adrenaline and stupid gossip. The van ride back to the hotel was a blur of tired limbs and damp towels. Only when you stepped into the lobby did you realize Anton and his teammates were sprawled across the armchairs in the lobby, looking perfectly at home. 

Of fucking course. Just your luck. 

Your team found their own places to sit while your coach checked you in. You didn’t dare go anywhere close that asshole, but you could feel his heated gaze on you, never leaving. 

Your coach walked back up to your group and started handing out room keys. 

“Now, since there’s an odd number of us, someone gets their own room.” He grunted out. Your other teammates immediately started asking for it, not wanting to share a room with anyone else. You were too distracted by the gaze on you to partake in the begging. 

“Now, now, I’m giving it to our winner for today. She deserves it.” He said, handing the key out toward you and snapping you out of your daze. You smiled tightly and took the key card from him, your other teammates jokingly booing at you. You laughed and flicked some of them off. 

As you and your team walked up to your floor, you still felt those eyes on you, except this time you didn’t acknowledge him. 

You made your way down the corridor, damp hair still slinging to your neck, the low hush of your teammates' voices fading behind you as you drifted further from their cluster. The key card was thick between your fingers and you spun it around and around, unable to keep the restless energy from your hands or the sense of being watched from crawling up your spine. 

You told yourself you didn’t care. You had beaten him. You’d gotten the solo room. He could look all he wanted. 

The hallway was quiet, carpet muffling your footsteps and the air thick with the lingering scent of pool chemicals and the faint trace of someone’s cologne. Maybe his. You shoved that thought right back down where it came from and pushed your door open. 

The room was bright, a single bed crisply made, and silent except for the echo of your heart in your chest. 

You kicked your shoes off, dropped your bag by the desk, and peeled off your jacket. The adrenaline from earlier was still slightly there, and you sighed as you checked your phone for any new notifications. 

The knock at the door had your head snapping up from your phone to the door. 

They’re already knocking at the door? You saw them two minutes ago.

When you got to the door you pulled on the handle and opened it, ready to make a teasing remark at your teammate about already missing you. Only it wasn’t your teammate. It was Anton. 

He stood in your doorway, as if he belonged there. As if he’d been invited, when you both knew he hadn’t. He filled the space with unapologetic energy, one arm braced casually against the doorframe, his body still lean and strong and his hair slightly darker, like yours, from lingering moisture. The smell hit you: chlorine, the clean scent of his bodywash, and that cologne, subtle and sharp and unmistakably him.

You blinked. For a breathless second, neither of you spoke.

He smiled, slow and deliberate, with a hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes. “Expecting someone else?” His voice was deep, edged with laughter.

You leaned your shoulder against the door, half blocking his view of the room. “You must be lost. The asshole convention’s down the hall.”

He huffed a short laugh, not moving. “I thought I’d congratulate you properly.” His eyes flicked from your face to your neck, to your collarbone. You felt the heat of his gaze like he was physically touching you. For a second, neither of you moved. The air between your bodies felt charged, riddled with tension and something else you couldn’t and didn’t want to name. 

“Funny,” he said, his voice lowering. “But I’m right where I want to be.”

You rolled your eyes, but the gesture felt weak even to you. Up close, his presence was suffocating. The width of his shoulders blocked out the hallway light. His arm, still braced against the doorframe, caged you even as you stood your ground.

“Congratulations delivered. You can go now,” you said, keeping your tone even, your chin up. But you didn’t close the door.

He tilted his head, studying you, and you realized he saw right through the confidence act. “You always this polite to your fans?” he asked, and the words made your skin crawl with irritation. 

But you didn’t take the bait. Instead, you fixed him with that look you’d perfected over the years of racing side-by-side – sharp, unimpressed. He leaned in, just enough that you could see the pretty shade of brown in the details of his eyes, and for a moment you allowed yourself to breathe him in.

“Only the ones who lose as pathetically as you,” you shot back, the words coming out huskier than you meant. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes darkened at that, the twitch of his jaw as he processed your nearness. He was so close you could count the freckles across his collarbone, could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

He didn’t move back, but stepped closer, shifting his weight so that his hips brushed the edge of the door. His arm remained above your head, effectively pinning you in place, but you didn’t shrink away. You could feel the tension in his stare.

It vibrated between you, not quite touching, but almost – like electricity.

You licked your lips. His gaze tracked it, sharp and intent. Every sensible thought in your head told you to make a snarky comment and slam the door in his face, but you just… didn’t. Maybe you liked the way the air got thick when he stepped this close, the way his voice dipped when he spoke to you, just for you. Even if every word was meant to rile you up.

You wondered if he could see your pulse beating in your throat. It felt obvious, loud, like it was beating for his attention.

Anton dropped his face a little nearer, the shadow of his jaw cutting a clean line only inches from yours. “Go on, then,” he murmured, voice low. “Prove you’re better, yeah?”

The words set something wild loose in your chest, and you felt something pulse inside you. You should’ve laughed. You should’ve pushed him out, locked the door and gone straight to the shower and then to bed. But here you were, pulling him into your room and slamming the door shut behind him. 

He barely had a chance to react before you shoved him back, hard, the force of it sending his spine gently to the wall. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes, but it only made his mouth curve higher. For a second, neither of you moved; you just stood together in that bright, silent room, close enough that your breaths mingled and the tension between you felt raw and almost physical.

He looked at you, really looked, heat pooling in his gaze, and you realized with a fierce jolt that he wanted this as badly as you did. You pressed forward, erasing the last bit of space, and kissed him.

It was nothing like you’d imagined—not soft, not tentative, but fever-hot and reckless, hungry and desperate and the taste of chlorine and him. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, sharp with need, and you felt his hands find your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

You let him, for just a moment, because it felt good and right and you wanted to hear what he’d do if you stopped pretending to hate his guts. 

But you didn’t give him all the control – not for a second. You pushed up on your toes, kissed him harder, your mouth parting under his, and the soft surprised sound he made vibrated straight through your chest and down in between your legs. 

His hands slid lower, splaying over your hips and dragging you flush against him, and you knew he was just as breathless and done for as you. 

He kissed like he competed: relentless, greedy, all-consuming. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, not gentle, and he groaned against your mouth, one palm fisting the back of your shirt to pull you impossibly closer. 

The tension was so messy, and when your fingers tangled in his still-damp hair, tugging, he broke away just enough to let out a shaky breath against your cheek. 

You didn’t wait for him to say anything clever. You nipped sharply at his jaw, felt the muscle tense under your teeth, and heart the way his breath hitched. He chased your mouth, catching it again, but you tugged him back by his hair and continued your attack on his neck. 

You could feel the coiled tension in Anton’s arms, the way his fingers curled possessively around your hips, and the way his mouth kept trying to find yours hungrily. 

“Didn’t expect this to be your way of proving you’re better,” he said, a smirk on his mouth and his voice soft against your ear, “is it my turn yet?”