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a/n: ngl, when i got this request i completely lost my mind over the idea. istg that racha log will go down in history because how are you gonna tell me all four of them looked that damn good sparring??? also... this is my first solo minho fic, so cheers to that!!! anyway, i hope you all enjoy this filthy little freak fic! >.<
christopher pushed the door open with his shoulder, one arm hooked under minho’s.
“i’m up on five minutes,” christopher panted, already half-turned toward the hallway. “please, patch him up. minho, don’t misbehave.”
you looked up from the supply cart, partially ignoring christopher’ words. you knew exactly who you were the second christopher said his name.
the smell hit you first. antiseptic, sweat, the copper edge of blood. you turned your head slightly to minho, scanning his face, looking for any serious injury. his eyebrow was split, blood tracking down his temple in a thin line. a bruise was already blooming along his sharp jaw.
christopher didn’t wait for an answer. he didn’t have time, not even if he wanted to keep an eye on both of you. he sighed, shoved minho forward until his back met the wall. he was still kinda dizzy after the punch he receive on the ring, even if it was a friendly round.
after giving you a quick glance and a supportive nod, christopher disappeared down the hallway.
minho stayed where he was left, weight on one leg, breathing heavy through his nose. his tank top clung to his chest, dark patches spreading under the arms. he was watching you with that look he only gave you when no one else was around. half challenge, half invitation.
like a cat deciding whether you were worth trusting or just another toy worth batting around.
you grabbed gloves and a sterile packet. when you looked over your shoulder, his sharp, sparking eyes were already on you.
“please, minho, sit down,” you said quietly, nodding toward the exam table.
but he didn’t move right away. just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. then he snorted and dropped onto the metal table. the paper crinkled under his weight.
you stepped between his knees. the grin that pulled at his mouth was small but unmistakable. your eyes went to the small cut above his eyebrow. it was clean, but deep enough to need pressure. you tore the packet open, soaked the gauze on antiseptic, and pressed gently.
minho hissed through his teeth, face tightening. “s-shit…”
“hold still. it’s almost over,” you murmured, keeping your voice even.
his hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. his brows stayed furrowed, but a small smile still sat on his lips.
“hard to when you’re this close,” he said, teasingly. his voice was low, still rough from the round. “you’re driving me crazy.”
you didn’t answer. you tried to ignore the way his proximity was already fucking with your head, your pulse skipping every time his breath hit your neck. you knew he was just teasing. always teasing. but something inside you still wanted him to mean it.
you wiped the blood away in slow strokes, watching the cut, making sure it stayed clean. his skin burned under your fingers. your hands shook a little when the gauze brushed near his plump lips.
“chris trusts you with everything,” minho continued. “his shoulder, his hands, every little problem. but he still left like he thought i’d do something to you without asking.”
“he doesn’t think that, don’t be silly,” you said, reaching for more antiseptic. “besides, you know i can handle you perfectly fine.”
he laughed once, short. his eyes followed you as you moved, slow and deliberate. the cut on his cheekbone needed attention too.
the antiseptic stung, burning like hell. his thigh flexed against your hip when you dabbed, making you jerk, surprised. your eyes snapped to his, worried.
“fuck, that fucking hurts” he muttered, biting his lower lip, one eye squeezed shut.
“we’re almost done with this part,” you whispered, trying to calm him down.
you leaned in closer to check the edges, checking that everything was in order. his breath hit your cheek now, feeling warm but steady. the distance between you almost inexistent. he didn’t lean back anyways, enjoying every inch of it.
“been thinking about this,” he murmured, voice raw. you shuddered, feeling your knees going weak. “you touching me so careful,” he leaned closer, his nose brushing your cheek. “so close i could pin you under me right now.”
you straightened fast, face burning, heartbeat pounding in your ears. your hand landed on his chest without thinking. his muscles shifted under your palm, his breathing already heavier.
“minho, you’re talking nonsense,” you stated, examining his face with amusement. “stop fucking around. now.”
his grin widened, that cocky, irritating thing that always made your stomach flip. you wondered if it was normal to get this turned on just from the way he looked at you.
he caught your wrist before you could step away. it wasn’t hard, he didn’t want to put pressure on you. he was pressing just enough to keep you there.
“make me,” he whispered, the words slow on his tongue. the corner of his mouth lifted when he felt your pulse jump under his fingers.
you pulled your hand free but didn’t walk away. if anything, you leaned in a little more, already missing the heat of him. your head was spinning. was he just being an asshole, or did he actually want this as much as you did?
his hand found your hip, thumb pressing under the waistband of your scrubs. his eyes were half-lidded, fixed on your mouth.
“tell me to stop and i will,” he said, leaning closer. “just say it.”
but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you wanted this as badly as he seemed to.
his palm slid higher, under the hem of your top, skin on skin. you were going insane. you were touch-starved or maybe just reacting to him. you couldn’t care less which one.
“tell me,” he repeated, voice lower, hungrier.
his other hand hooked into your belt loop and pulled you in until your thigh pressed between his. your lower abdomen tightened when you felt how hard he already was, the outline obvious through the thin fabric of his shorts.
“minho-” you whimpered, eyes wide when his fingers dug into your skin before wandering on your back.
“shh. be quiet,” he tugged you forward until you were straddling one of his thighs, feet still touching the floor. “need you to reach for that bandage behind me.”
you blinked slowly, brained fogged. you don’t understand what he was planning. without thinking, you stretched over his shoulder, looking for what he asked you for. your tits brushed his face unintentionally, making you jerk embarrassed.
minho turned his head and mouthed at the skin above your collar, teeth scraping, tongue dragging. he didn’t let you pull back. instead he rolled his thigh up once, slow, the muscle flexing under you.
the seam of your scrubs dragged against your clit through your soaked panties. a high, broken moan slipped out, followed by a string of whimpers.
“there it is,” he said against your throat, smiling like he’d won something. “been waiting to hear that.”
you tried to shift off but he caught your hips with both hands and held you there. your head was getting foggy. he guided you into another slow grind, longer this time. the friction was dull and frustrating, exactly enough to make your breath catch. you could feel how wet you already were, fabric clinging, soaked.
“minho, someone could-”
“the door’s locked. chris is busy for another twenty minutes at least,” he said, almost too fast, then caught your mouth in a hard, needy kiss.
he dragged you forward again, harder. your clit caught the ridge of muscle and you jerked. your hands clenched on his shoulders. moans and whines kept spilling out.
“f-fuck,” you whimpered, lips parted. “feels so good…”
“that’s it, darling,” his voice low and rough in your ear. “ride it. please yourself with me.”
and you did. small movements at first, testing. then faster, clumsier as he encouraged you. the table creaked under the erratic movement. his hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs digging in, controlling the angle.
every roll of your hips sent heat up your spine, your panties panties clung, soaked through, the fabric rasping over your swollen clit with every pass. minho’s breath hit the shell of your ear, low and amused.
“look at you,” he murmured, his fingers wound into your hair and tugged, just enough to tip your head back. “little nurse getting off on my thigh like she’s been thinking about it for weeks.”
a broken sound slipped out before you could bite it down. minho’s thumb caught your lower lip, pulling it free, dragging slowly across the wet skin.
“don’t hide it from me. i want every sound”
your mouth chased his again, clumsy, teeth clicking, tongues sliding. he bit your lip hard enough to sting and soothed it with a slow lick. the pressure between your legs coiled tighter, sharper.
his hand slid under your waistband, under the ruined cotton, and found you dripping. two fingers stroked through your folds without pushing in, just gliding over the mess you’d made.
“fuck,” he breathed, laughing softly. “this wet already?”
your hips jerked, rhythm faltering. he stopped immediately, palm cupping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.
“don’t stop because i’m touching you. keep going. be a good girl.”
and you really tried, but the combination of his thigh and his fingers made your thighs shake wild. he circled your clit over and over again. he kept the pressure steady, deliberate, watching every twitch of your face, every time your eyes rolled.
without warning he pushed two fingers inside, thick and sudden. your moan tore out loud enough to echo off the metal cabinets. your forehead dropped to his. the stretch burned sweet.
“holy shit, minho- you are- please, i need you to-” you moaned, head above the sky. your voice was shaky, numb.
“i know, i know,” his voice was soothing, calm.
he curled his fingers, found the spot that made your vision spark, and fucked you in short, brutal thrusts while you ground down on his thigh. the wet sound of it filled the room, obscene, constant. every forward roll pressed his palm against your clit again.
“ah! yes, yes- just right there, min- fuck!”
you were close too fast. minho felt the first flutter around his fingers and pulled them out. you whined, high and broken, hips chasing nothing. he snorted, pressed a quick kiss to your swollen mouth.
“not yet,” he mumbled, his voice raw. he lifted you, set you on the edge of the table between his spread knees. “keep your knees there and come here.”
you climbed up, obedient, knees already aching against cold metal. minho shoved his shorts down just far enough. his cock sprang free, flushed dark, tip glistening. he wrapped a hand around the base and gave one lazy stroke, eyes locked on yours.
“open your mouth,” he demanded, voice firm.
you pressed your thighs together, mouth watering. the second your lips parted he guided himself in, slow at first, then deeper when his hand settled at the back of your head. he didn’t force. he just held you there, thumb stroking behind your ear while you worked him with your tongue, licking from base to tip, hollowing your cheeks, taking him until your throat fluttered around the head.
“fuck, that’s good- so tight, so warm…” he muttered, his head falling back against the wall. “been thinking about your mouth for weeks.”
your cunt clenched around nothing. he pushed you deeper until you gagged, tears pricking. you bobbed faster, sloppy, spit running down his shaft. every time he felt too close he tugged you off, breathing hard, cock twitching against your tongue.
he seem to love to fuck your face, your eyes staying as long as you could on his before rolling them back.
he pulled you off completely, panting loudly. his chest was going up and down wildly, his hair sticking to his forehead. you could see his lips parted, his tongue licking them slowly.
“turn around,” he whined, trying to sound as firm as he could.
you barely started moving before he dragged you back into his lap, your back to his chest this time. one hand spread your thighs wide while the other shoved three fingers back inside you without preamble. you cried out, back arching, hands scrabbling for the table edge. he fucked you steady and deep, curling on every thrust, his other hand rubbing tight circles over your clit.
“come on”, he panted against your neck, teeth scraping. “want to feel you lose it.”
he was panting and groaning in your ear, spreading kisses on your shoulder and neck, sucking hard enough to leave some more marks there.
he really wanted everyone to know you were with someone, even if they didn’t know it was him.
“m-minho- oh fuck, you… mmmh- s’too much, i can’t take more- so close…” your voice was a mess, unable to talk coherently.
minho snorted, making his moves faster. “come for me. want to see your face while you come.”
he fucked you steady and deep. he wasn’t going to let you catch any break. he needed you long enough to let you go away just like that.
“min! m’gonna-” you shouted, too gone to think about where you were.
you came with a broken shout, thighs shaking so hard the table rattled. minho didn’t stop until you were twitching and whimpering, oversensitive. only then did he pull his fingers free. you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, slow, deliberate. licking them as if it was a treat. your cheeks lighten up, unable to look away.
“tastes as sweet as you look”, he murmured, licking his lips. “now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck you.”
you nodded, frantic. he lifted you just enough to line up and pulled you down onto his cock in one smooth motion. the stretch was deeper than his fingers, thicker. he bottomed out and held you there, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. you could feel his warm breath against your neck, hearing him hiss when you took him fully.
“move, darling. wanna watch you bouncing on it,” he said, smugly. that cocky tone never leaving his voice.
but you couldn’t wait any more.
you started slow, getting used to the thickness, then faster, riding him hard enough that the table legs scraped the floor. skin slapped wetly, sweat slid down your spine. minho kept one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit even though you were still sensitive, the other gripping your tits, feeling them bounce. his eyes stayed fixed on where you took him, lips parted, breathing ragged.
his face shrink, feeling his own orgasm coming. his hands gripped your waist again, making your moves faster, erratic. your moans never stopped, getting louder and louder with each thrust. both of you were a sweaty, wet mess.
“g-gonna come,” he said against your shoulder, panting. “need to come inside you, please… fuck, you’re milking me good.”
“y-yes! do it, min. need you to cum inside me… oh, god-”
you nodded fast, taking his lips with yours in an urgent kiss. his tongue wandered on your mouth, his teeth clenched on your lower lip when he felt that hot wave hit him.
he finished hard, a bigger amount of what you expected. you could feel him throbbing inside you, his shaky hands caressing your body. his broken sounds being muffled against your bare skin. you could feel how you started leaking, his cum dripping between you.
and neither of you moved for a long moment. even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stand on your own feet right now. and minho didn’t look any better, his face hidden on your back while his breath sounded erratic, ragged.
you could hear him laugh once, quietly, before pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. no words needed, his hands tugging you on a warm, soft hug.
the door was still locked. outside, the sound of another round starting filtered through the walls.
but here, inside, minho’s fingers traced slow circles on your skin like he had nowhere else to be.
period sex: sexual activity that happens while at least one partner is menstruating or on their period.
It was the worst form of torture. Every month, your period would leave you feeling the horniest you’d ever felt, and it was even worse when you had a sex god boyfriend who would walk around looking so tasty. In all honesty, he could walk around wearing anything and it’d still have you wanting to shove your hand down your panties and get yourself off. But you couldn’t. Not while he was there, being so lovely and caring for you through the most horrible cramps you’d ever felt in your life.
“How are you feeling now, baby?” Minho murmured. You’d been laying practically on top of him, a cat shaped hot water bottle trapped between your stomachs as you half-watched the movie that was on. You’d been too horny to even pay attention to it, and you weren’t even sure what the fucking thing was called. Minho had been watching, though. He was a stranger to your internal suffering.
“I’m comfy, thanks, Min,” You replied, kissing his cheek. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears still burned red, even after so long. He was so cute, but you wanted his dick. Time to change the subject. “I hate cramps. They’re awful, y’know? They say dark chocolate helps.”
“Want me to get you some? I can drive to the shop,” Minho asked, his hand rubbing circles on the small of your back. You hummed, shaking your head.
“I don’t even like dark chocolate, it was just something stupid I saw years ago,” You said, and Minho chuckled, shaking his head fondly. Then, he turned to you, his eyes soft as he looked you up and down. He always looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen - even when you were suffering an intense period-caused acne breakout and wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms.
“I heard something similar,” He began, biting his lip. “I heard orgasms help. Have you tried getting yourself off, baby?”
Oh, he was too sweet. Always looking for solutions to make you feel better. “Well… Min, I can’t exactly get myself off while you’re here. That’d be weird.”
“I’d love every second of it,” He was serious, but you still giggled, poking his cheek playfully. “Baby, in all seriousness, if you want me to fuck you, I will. A bit of blood will not bother me.”
You blinked, leaning up. “You’d really do that?”
Minho chuckled, kissing you chastely. “It’s blood, baby. It’s really not a big deal. I’ll lay a towel down.”
You stared at him for a moment, and he stared back, raising an eyebrow in questioning. Then, you yanked the fluffy cat hot water bottle out from between you and kissed him. He just deserved a kiss for that, but he still let out a little ‘mmph’ in shock at your boldness. “Minho,” You mumbled against his lips, and he hummed in response. “I’m so fucking horny, you don’t even understand. Every fucking period, you walk around looking so hot, and I could’ve just asked this whole time?”
“Baby, I look like this all month,” He chuckled, kissing you again. “Honestly though, yeah. You could’ve just asked, dummy.”
“Oh my God,” You sighed, curling into him more to kiss his neck. He let you mouth your way down his soft skin, and you sucked a mark into his collarbone where you knew it wouldn’t be seen. He scoffed out a laugh, his hand moving to rub over your ass instead. “Oh my God, Minho, get a fucking towel.”
He was still laughing when he stood up, shaking his head as he grabbed an old towel from his wardrobe. You belatedly realised that oh, he’d see the blood, and you were starting to feel a little less confident. When you hadn’t moved from the bed to let him lay the towel down, he tilted his head at you in confusion.
“You can’t look, okay?” You gushed, jumping up from the mattress. Minho bit his lip, hiding a laugh. You pouted, stomping your feet in a mild tantrum. “I’m going to pull my pants down, and you have to close your eyes, because there will be blood on my pad. Okay?”
“Baby,” Minho shut his eyes, shaking his head. When he opened them again, you could see the amusement in them, and it made you pout even harder. “I’d be shocked if there wasn’t blood on your pad, y’know? Given that you’re on your period.”
“Well, yeah, but still-”
“Come here,” He commanded. You couldn’t deny that tone of voice, even if you were mid-tantrum and shy. You walked over to him, and he tossed the towel onto the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You let him kiss down your neck like he’d done to you, biting at the skin and humming when you let out a choked noise. “I think you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?”
“You’re sexy,” You protested, and he shook his head against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, using two fingers to get you to look into his eyes. You were practically melting.
“I’m gonna get you naked the way I always do,” He said, and his tone was firm. You wanted to protest, to make a big deal, but he shook his head before you could even speak. “I’m going to get you naked the way I always do. I’m gonna take my time worshipping those tits, and then I’m going to fuck you and get you to cream nice and wet on my cock. I do not care about blood. Okay?”
You blinked. You couldn’t even argue with that, really. “Okay.”
“God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” He murmured, his eyes dark and staring directly into yours. “Letting me fuck you like this. What a good fucking girl, huh?”
“I need you so bad,” You whimpered, and Minho chuckled. You gasped when he wrapped his hand around your throat, a light pressure but there nonetheless, and then he was kissing you. It was different to his soft, loving kisses on the bed, his tongue demanding dominance inside your mouth and making you whine. You couldn’t protest when he ran his hands up your back underneath your shirt, and you definitely couldn’t protest when his hands gripped your ass firmly. He was such a fucking wet dream.
You watched in awe as he yanked his shirt off from behind his neck, revealing planes of milky skin and toned biceps. You didn’t even hide your gaze, your eyes running over him in delight as you felt the arousal pool in your stomach. He pushed you back against the bed, somehow landing you directly on top of the towel as he made quick work of your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra for comfort purposes, and he made a sound akin to a growl as he saw your tits, nipples pebbled against the cold chill of the room.
“Baby, these tits,” He moaned, grabbing them both with his hands. “They’re fuller, huh?”
“It’s the period,” You gasped, letting him tweak your nipples with his fingers almost painfully. He knew how you liked it. “You like them?”
“I like them every fucking day,” He responded quickly, wrapping his lips around one of the buds and sucking. You let out a choked noise, feeling the sensitivity of them from your current state. Minho perked up, grinning. “Are they sensitive?”
“I think every part of me is fucking sensitive, God, please fuck me,” You gushed, spreading your legs and letting him get between them. Minho chuckled, letting his tongue run over your nipple again.
His fingers went to the waistband of your fluffy rabbit pyjama bottoms, playing with the fabric. He raised an eyebrow at you, and his facial expression was soft, fond. “Can I take these off, baby?”
You bit your lip. “Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure I want to fuck you all the time, so yes,” He said, grinning. You held your breath as he pulled your pants down, taking your underwear with them and tossing them to the floor. He hadn’t looked, and you knew he did it to make you feel comfortable. You loved him so much it made your heart swell. His eyes dragged down your body, his hand stroking softly over your tummy and eyes landing on your pussy. Oh, God. “Fucking beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”
“Can you get naked now?” You shifted impatiently. Minho smiled, nodding, and then he was pulling his own bottoms down. You were more than delighted to see he’d foregone underwear, cock springing out and looking solid. You leaned forward instantly, letting your lips brush his as you wrapped your hand round the base of his cock, the trimmed hairs tickling your skin. “This fucking cock. It’s so amazing.”
“He likes you too,” Minho mumbled against your lips, kissing them chastely. “You gonna jerk me off a bit, baby?”
You sighed. “I wanna suck it, to be honest.”
Minho shook his head, letting his hand fall to yours and moving it on his shaft. “I will cum instantly if you suck me off right now,” He admitted, leaning down to run his tongue over your nipple again. You jolted, moaning and starting to pump his cock steadily. You tightened your hand a little bit more at the tip, just the way he likes it, and his cock leaked just a bit of precum in approval. “Something about this, baby. The way you trust me so much. I think I could die.”
You giggled, moving your hands to pull him in at his waist. “I think I’ll die if you don’t fuck me. I need to cum on your cock so bad.”
“Yeah?” Minho asked, but the look on his face told you he was very aware. He positioned his cock at your pussy, letting the tip run through your folds teasingly. “I think I’ll fuck you then.”
“God, do you want me to beg?” You huffed, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I’m not above begging.”
“I know, I have you begging for it every night,” He mused, and then he was pushing inside. The stretch startled you, and you moaned loudly, making Minho chuckle. He bottomed out easily, the slide wet and your pussy more than pliant for him. You were sure your pussy was moulded to the shape of his cock at that point. “How do you want it? Tell me, baby.”
“I- oh, deep, hard?” You said, voice lilted as if it was a question. “Give it to me the way I like it, you know.”
“Yeah?” Minho asked, starting to thrust into you steadily. You moaned, clenching tight on his cock. You were so sensitive, unabashed moans and whines falling from parted lips and echoing around Minho’s room. “You want me to call you my slut, so desperate for my cock? You want me to fuck you senseless?”
“Oh, oh-” You keened, and Minho laughed, kissing your neck. His cock was solid, hard inside of you, and the way he was thrusting into you was such a smooth, slick slide that it had you wanting to cum instantly.
“Yeah, you are my slut, aren’t you?” He murmured against your skin, and when he pulled away to look at you, you were left breathless. His hair was dark, flopping over his forehead but not obscuring his beautiful features, his pouty lips parted and exposing his cute bunny teeth. They pressed at his bottom lip as he fucked into you, and when you looked into his dark, feline eyes, all you could see was love. You couldn’t help but moan, nodding. You let your fingers grip onto his biceps for stability. “I know, I know, baby. Let me take care of you.”
You gasped as he pushed his thumb into your mouth, and you were quick to suck on it dutifully, running your tongue over his digit. He pressed it in deep, swirling it around your tongue and staring at you with half-lidded eyes. You startled when he reached down, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Min, the blood-”
“Ssh,” He urged you, shaking his head. He pushed one leg back with his other hand, letting it fall over his shoulder and fucking you deeper with his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bud. “I know how to make this pussy cum, don’t I?”
“Yeah, yeah, you do,” You agreed, nodding. His chest pushed your thigh into your tits, leaning over you to kiss you once, filthily and deep. His thumb didn’t let up and neither did his thrusts, his cock bullying into your hole over and over and making you whine. “Jesus, Minho, your cock is fucking amazing.”
“It’s all yours, baby,” Minho’s voice was strained, hips stuttering against you. “Baby, you’re so wet, I don’t know if I can hold out.”
“Min, please,” You begged, eyes bleary. “I’m- I need to cum, Minho.”
“Fuck, fuck, yeah, I know,” He gasped, eyes rolling back into his head. It was a rare sight seeing Minho pussydrunk - he normally held out for a lot longer than you did, but clearly the added wetness on his cock was a little bit too much for him. “Feel me, baby. Focus on my cock. It’s so fucking hard for you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” You gasped, bucking your hips into his thrusts. He pinched your clit meanly, smirking when it made you squeal. Your chest heaved, a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.
“Gorgeous fucking girl. Your little pussy always needs me, kitty,” He moaned, grunting into your neck with every thrust. You were getting close, his ministrations too much to handle when combined with his filthy words. “Fuckin’ slut. My slut, yeah? Always needing me, needing my fucking cock inside of you.”
You whined, nodding. You’d started to bounce on his cock now, letting him pinch and rub your clit to send you into oblivion. “Always need it, oh, oh, Min, mean, be mean-”
“Be mean, kitty?” He scoffed. You gasped when he moved his hand from your thigh, and then he was slapping you across the face, a light slap but definitely there nonetheless. Your eyebrows furrowed, lips parting. “Got me pussydrunk, kitty. Fucking minx.”
“‘M gonna cum, Minho,” You warned, your sopping walls fluttering around his cock happily. “I’m gonna fucking cum, you’re gonna make me cum, oh-”
“Yeah?” He moaned, his noises getting higher in pitch. He was getting close. “I’m gonna cum with you. Do you want it? Do you want my cum?”
“Always want your cum, oh, breed me, Min, I’ll soak your cock-”
You let out a loud whine, digging your fingernails into his shoulders almost painfully as you came. You felt your pussy gushing on your boyfriend’s cock, soaking his length and moaning like a fucking pornstar all the way through your orgasm. Minho tensed, his hands grabbing your hips. His hips stopped completely, cock bottomed out inside you as he filled you with his cum.
He collapsed on you, his weight a welcomed addition. “I’m not g’na pull out yet ‘cause I know you’ll get shy,” He mumbled, kissing your sweaty skin. You giggled, nodding.
“Do you wanna take a bath?” You asked, running your fingers up his back.
“I can’t think of anything better, baby,” He sighed. “I said I was going to fuck you senseless but I think you’ve just fucked me.”
“On the upside, my cramps are gone,” You grinned. Minho looked up at you, kissing your nose fondly.
“Let me know if they’re back,” He said, eyes earnest. “I’ll just have to fuck you again, since you don’t like dark chocolate.”
“Really hate the stuff,” You hummed, nodding. “I like you though.”
Minho giggled, his nose scrunching up cutely. “I like you too, baby.”
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cws: smut, unprotected sex (I planned this to be protected, I SWEAR), fingering, riding, dry humping, handjobs, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), squirting, cum eating, throatfucking, love confessions, a bit of fluff, virgin!Reader, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink but with a twist, dom!Lee Know, service top!Lee Know
word count: 6686
summary: minho was the perfect boyfriend - sweet, caring but with a deep dark desire inside of him. When he finds out you’re so inexperienced, he can’t hold it back anymore
a/n: I actually had this idea for so long now and it was sitting in my drafts halfway done for literal months! I’m so glad I can finally present it to you
Your relationship with Minho had been effortless, almost perfect even.
He was considerate, a sweetie behind his sometimes stoic nature. He was a true gentleman, kind, caring and got along well with your family.
And well, you would probably describe his whole being as endearing.
He hugged you while he was asleep, pulling you against his chest, but would deny doing that the next morning.
He made you a cup of coffee first thing after getting up, even before he got the first sip himself, he would bring it to you when you refused to get up early.
He kissed you goodbye before heading to practice, lingering breaths left on your skin, his scent still burnt into your memory.
He texted you in every break, sending you a quick pic because he knew you were interested in his work.
He brought your favorite snacks with him when he came back home, telling you he thought you probably craved it all day.
But what you didn’t know about him were his desires deep down. When you smiled at him, eyes literally lighting up as soon as he did one of these things, there were these thoughts that almost plagued him.
When he held you close at night, his thoughts drifted off to a space where he imagined him pinning you down underneath him and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t speak, think or walk properly anymore.
When he made you breakfast in bed, there was this weird itch he had and it could only be properly smothered if he would fuck your face first thing in the morning instead.
When he kissed you before heading off to work, he always fantasized about pushing you against the wall and making you watch him ruin you all over in the broad mirror in the hallway.
When he sent you a selfie of him when he had a few minutes for himself, he had to fight the urge to facetime you and order you to show yourself to him in your entirety while he talked you through an orgasm.
When he stepped into your apartment in the evening, he wanted to jump at you so badly, his whole body screaming for him to bend you over the nearest surface.
But he did none of these things because he was kinda afraid to scare you off with it. Not all of his thoughts were that dark but all of them were full of filth. The two of you hadn’t been intimate yet, although your relationship was so fulfilling. It just hadn’t been the right time yet.
But in this very moment, your snuggle session on the couch while watching a movie had turned to him leaning over to you, kissing you slowly.
Your hands were so cutely braced against his chest, not shoving him away but feeling him. God, he really wanted to eat you whole - or eat you out, whatever happened first.
He moved his lips against yours, hand at the back of your neck to hold you in place like this. It wasn’t possessive, but firm and wanting. You let him, your heart fluttering and your stomach flipping out of excitement.
Minhos other hand ran up your thigh, squeezing your leg there before he cupped your core. Just for a second though, because your surprised gasp seemed to wake him out of his trance and he ended the kiss abruptly.
With his hands leaving you and him scooting away an inch, you felt your whole body tense up because of the loss of touch. This has been new but you wanted more, goosebumps formed on your skin.
“Sorry, I- uhhmm.. got a bit carried away”.
He looked at you so apologetically, shifting in his position as if it suddenly was uncomfortable to sit on the couch. You tilted your head in confusion, while in reality, he had to internally admit that the little sound you made just went straight to his cock.
“I liked it”, you finally said, voice trembling more than you had anticipated.
His face turned back to you.
“You did?”, he asked.
You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, his gaze made your body heat up. You felt weird, but in a good way.
“So- you want me to continue?”.
There was a pause, dead silence hung thick in the air between you. Your heart was so loud in your chest, it was the only thing you were hearing right now. You were nervous, but you knew this was right. Maybe you should have told him your secret sooner, though. You weren’t just inexperienced, you had no experience at all.
With your next nod, Minho immediately pulled you towards him, guiding you to sit on his lap and straddle him. You couldn’t describe the sensation, everything was so new and scary, but so good. Minho on the other hand felt like he was hitting the jackpot, he knew he possibly couldn’t indulge in all of his desires, but finally having the person he loved - yes, he indeed loved you - on top of him, was better than he had dreamed.
His hands were wrapped around your waist now, fingers digging into your flesh as he applied pressure to your form, urging you to move on top of him. But well, you were clueless, clumsy. You didn’t know what to do.
“Move, Jagi. Please”, his voice was broken, he wanted to pull your face down to kiss you, but your breathing hitched - he stopped.
“I don’t know how”.
At first, he didn’t really know how to react to that, he just looked up to you.
“I’ve never done something like that before”, you quietly admitted, avoiding eye contact, “I’m- uhmm”.
You felt tears already forming in your eyes so you squeezed them shut. It was embarrassing, you thought, and it probably weirded him out.
But poor Minho just tried so hard to sort his thoughts because oh my god, he could be your first. It was scaring him, to be honest. He wanted your first time to be something you would happily look back to. But deep inside, something told him to taint you. To ruin you for everyone else. To make you his own forever.
His silence was making you anxious and the tears started rolling. The sting in your chest was humbling, you felt incredibly dumb that you let this get so close to you. You couldn’t stop it even if you tried, but when you tried to get off of him, his grip just got stronger.
“No no no no. Don’t cry, Jagi”, his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you”.
You froze, your heart beating against your ribcage relentlessly.
“You’re not.. appalled by the fact I’m a virgin?”.
Oh god, you said it. He wanted to hiss, to moan, to press you down onto his cock, to rip off all of your clothes at this instant.
He needed to take a breath, all of these thoughts were not helping in his wish to make you feel as best as possible.
“No, of course not”, he said, voice as calm as he could muster, “Just under pressure”.
Although your body was still shivering and you couldn’t yet stop your sobs, his gentle and soft expression was soothing, so you leaned against him in need of the comfort he was trying to provide.
“What do you mean?”.
His hand moved to the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair.
“Well, the first time can be- a bit much? I wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed by me accidentally hurting you”.
He still was just being a sweetheart, face nuzzling into your neck, placing a careless kiss there. It sent a little spark down your spine, letting something bloom inside you. You started thinking. You liked how he had touched you, even with clothes on. He was so considerate, immediately stopping when you felt uncomfortable.
You were sure he would be the right one, you were sure that he would take care of you.
“I want it”, you whispered, “With you”.
He flinched, physically jolted and made a noise you couldn’t quite understand the meaning of, but when you sat up, you saw his pupils dilate. He trembled, whole body vibrating, his lips were parted.
Minho looked incredibly hot like this, more than he usually did. You smiled through the anxiety, raising a hand to stroke the hair out of his face.
“But you’ll have to guide me”.
It seemed like he wanted to say something, but no word came out, his fingers scrunched up the fabric of your hoodie.
“Are you sure?”, he asked softly.
You nodded, cupping his face gently, there was no hesitation. Sure, you were a bit afraid, nervous, curious, but you didn’t hesitate a second.
“You need to tell me what you like, okay? And give me a sign when anything feels off”, he said, hands gliding back down and resting on your hips, “And we’re only going as far as you feel like”.
It was so endearing, how nervous he seemed to be as well. He was lucky you couldn’t read his mind, because he was so fucking scared he couldn’t resist. He was scared he couldn’t fight the urge to choke you, to pull your hair, to throatfuck you, to humiliate you, to use words he would later regret. Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted but god, the idea of being your first and sculpting you the way he liked was so tempting. And he hated how toxic that sounded.
“I trust you”.
“I trust you, too”, he sighed.
It felt like a love confession, something that also didn’t happen out loud in your relationship. But it made your heart flutter either way.
“You want me to show you how to move- on.. top of me?”, his gaze was strong, you felt something inside you tighten involuntarily at it.
You nodded, his grip on you getting a bit tighter. Minho took a deep breath.
“Okay, with clothes on it’s- it’s about the friction”, he explained and pushed you away a bit, but pulled you back in quickly after that, “How does that feel?”.
The fabric of your jeans rubbed over your clit like this, your breath got stuck in your throat at the feeling. It was unfamiliar, but it pulled a little mewl out of you.
“Good”, you managed to get out.
“You can also like- move like this”, his hands guided you to gyrate your hips.
Oh, that was even better. The sensation was making you dizzy, you let your head fall back, hands on his shoulders gripping the fabric of his shirt harshly until your knuckles turned white.
You could feel him getting harder underneath you and it empowered you, it encouraged you to try and move a bit on your own.
“Yeah, just like that-“, he gasped through gritted teeth, clasping you desperately, “Kiss me”.
You leaned forward, connecting your lips and sighing in relief. The kiss was cautious at first, the both of you holding back before he sat up a bit, his erection bumping into your clit like this. You moaned at the same time and he used the opportunity to let his tongue swipe in between your lips.
It was oddly addicting, his taste so sweet that you immediately wanted more as soon as your tongues touched.
His hands bunched up your hoodie to touch your bare skin on your waist. The contact made you arch your back and break the kiss involuntarily. Minho hummed, shoving the fabric up some more, looking at you in a pleading way and silently asking you to take it off.
You did in a hurry, his hands frantically helping you to pull it over your head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, completely forgotten. Minho had seen you just in a bra before, but he still looked at you in awe, taking you in and growling quietly. This made you feel confident enough to reach back and unclasp it. Minho died on the inside.
“Can you like- touch me? Like you did before?”, you felt your ears flush at this, newly gained confidence gone in an instant as soon as you had said these words.
He smirked, something mischievous glinting in those pretty eyes. His hands were roaming over your body, enjoying the feeling of your skin. Your breath hitched when his fingers danced over the curve right under your boobs.
“You did like that, huh, kitten?”.
He froze in his movements. Did he really just call you that? That was a momentarily slip of his deeper desires, he didn’t mean to do that. But the way you were still looking at him, so innocent, so precious, it just made sense in his distracted mind. The distraction being you, asking him this while you are sitting on his hardened dick like that. He threatened to fuck up.
But when he saw you nod, something inside him stirred. He stood up, lifting you with him to spread you out on the couch underneath him. There was a bit of hesitation before opening your pants and pulling them off completely. It was exciting, actually a bit scary, to be completely bare in front of him.
“I’ll start nice and slow, yeah?”, Minho cooed, “Or- tell me how you like it”.
“I-“, you hesitated.
And he stopped, before even reaching your thighs properly he had stopped mid movement.
“Have you never touched yourself?”, he asked then, voice dropping.
Once more, you felt humiliated. Not by him, but by yourself. You were an adult, yet, you knew nothing about stuff like this. A slow shake of your head made him move again, still leaning over you, but getting more distance between you to look down at you.
“I’m gonna teach you, yeah? I’ll show you how to make you feel good”.
Minho reached for your hand instead, placing it low on your stomach and gently shoved it down some more, your fingertips slightly gracing your folds like this.
“Starting easy, slow”, he muttered under his breath, dark eyes searching for your gaze and holding it.
He guided you to part them, going deeper so torturously slow. You reached your entrance, feeling the wetness and flushing heavily when you realized.
“Gather it, you can push the tip in if you want to”, he instructed you and you did as you were told, “Good- good girl, use it. Will feel better when it’s wet”.
You moved your hand up again, touching your clit and jolting immediately. It felt insanely good, little electric shocks and sparks rushing through your body whenever you rubbed your finger over it just slightly.
Minho watched you with an open mouth. You tried setting up a show for him, empowered by the lustful stare he had. He gripped the cushion of the couch, nails digging in. He was holding on for dear life, this was the most sinful scene he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t even touching you anymore, you were doing it all by yourself, but you still had him panting heavily.
“How does it feel, kitten? Tell me”, his voice was raspy, hoarse.
“It’s- so good”, you got out, your body reacting on its own and your hips bucking into your hand.
One of his hands touched you, pinning your hips down onto the couch to keep you in place.
“Push your finger in, slowly”.
You did, blindly following his instructions and shoving your middle finger in. You gasped at the intrusion - the sound turning into a whimper as soon as you heard his groan.
“Curl your finger- like this“, he showed you and you tried to mimic it, “Search for the spot. Go in deeper”.
You were so clumsy, not really knowing what he meant. You tried to, you really did, but failed miserably.
“Min-“.
“You want me to find it?”, he asked gently.
And you nodded. God, why did you nod? Minho was shivering, he was about to combust just by watching you eagerly trying to find your g-spot and now he had to do the same? Fuck.
But he couldn’t deny it to you now. Not with those pleading eyes. He sighed, his hand moving once you removed your own, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. Minho had to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut - fearing he would drool if he didn’t.
He let his fingers slide through your juices, coating his fingers thoroughly before pushing one of them in. Your back arched off almost immediately. This felt so much better than your own attempt, your lack of experience once more humiliating you.
Minho was knuckles deep in, turning his wrist and- you moaned so loud, he thought he would cum into his pants if you did that again. He obviously had found it, your legs shaking at the intense feeling.
“Oh god-“, you choked.
You tried to memorize his movements, tried to picture what he was doing inside of you - but your brain stopped working for good.
“Feels good, yeah?”, he had the audacity to stroke the spot with the tip of his finger, pushing into it and bully your nerves with it.
“Min-“, all you could say was his name and damn, he loved it.
His mind drifted off. This wasn’t enough. He needed more. And when you even begged for more without him needing to say something, he felt like he was on cloud nine.
“What do you want, kitten? Another finger? Or my tongue? You’d let me taste you?”.
He hadn’t planned on suggesting things by himself. He wanted you to have the reins so nothing out of your comfort zone happened, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. This was everything he had ever dreamed of.
“Taste me? How?”, your voice was so shaky, so innocent.
Minho hummed, his thumb gently pressing onto your clit. Your hands shot forward, gripping his arm, but he didn’t budge. He rubbed quick little circles onto your clit with utmost care - the strong pull in your stomach made you moan again.
“I can eat you out, if you want me to”.
“Huh?”, you asked, mind still empty.
He grinned, he couldn’t stop anymore. He was addicted to the power he had over you.
“You want me to do this with my tongue?”, he tried again.
“Huh?”.
God, he had you this dumb with just his fingers? He was in heaven.
“I need you to say yes or no”, he mused, he wasn’t even able to fight off the next sentence, “Or I’ll stop”.
“Yes-“, you thrashed, squirming because of the sensation, “Do it, please”.
Minho had to hold his breath for a second, composing himself. He just froze before he removed his hands from you completely. And for a moment, you thought you had said something wrong. But he sank down on his stomach, hands gripping the outside of your thighs to press you closer.
Minho took his sweet time with it, leaning in and letting his nose slide through your wetness, eyes not leaving you for a second. Honestly, he never had looked better than in this moment - between your legs, pupils so heavily dilated and vibrating from sheer lust overwhelming him.
You noticed how embarrassingly fast you were breathing, your bare chest heaving quickly and glistening in a thin layer of sweat.
He kissed the spot right above your clit, going deeper, caressing your folds very gently before darting his tongue out. He was easing you into the sensation, letting his tongue ghost over your skin before he gave your entrance a soft and short lick.
“Relax, kitten”, his voice was a low rumble that vibrated through your whole body.
Minho was fighting for his life right now, but he tried to keep himself grounded. He tried to be slow, to be gentle. But all he wanted was to devour you, fuck your pussy with his tongue and drive you into overstimulation. This was torture for him.
And it got harder the more sounds fell out of your mouth - he got bold enough to rub his nose along the sensitive bundle of nerves before latching his mouth onto it.
You jolted, hard. He definitely knew what he was doing, alternating between licking flat stripes over it and sucking your clit into his mouth and making you wail heavily.
There was a strong pressure in your pelvis, an unfamiliar tug that let your legs shake uncontrollably around his head. He relished in your reactions, your sounds, being completely lost in it. One of his hands left your thighs, his middle finger finding your entrance in no time to push in gently.
“Min- hahh- Minho, wait-“, your fingers entangled in his hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him off or urge him closer in between your legs, “I- feels weird”.
“Ohh-“, Minho groaned, only momentarily being able to detach his mouth from your dripping pussy, “You’re close already? Fuck- this gonna be your first orgasm?”.
You nodded weakly. You were still thankful he wasn’t weirded out by the fact you were so inexperienced. It only spurred him on to make you feel even better, to give you the best release you’ll ever have and love to think back to it.
He inserted another finger, pulling them out and fucking them back in gently but quickly. The pull in your lower stomach made you gasp out in shock and you wanted to close your legs instinctively, but he held them open, a strong hand even pushing one of them up a bit.
“Don’t worry, kitten. I got you. Just relax and let go for me, yeah?”, he muttered, licking up from your entrance to your most sensitive spot, “Cum all over my face, jagi”.
You couldn’t stop the explosion of built up anticipation, the knot in your stomach ripped apart with a blinding force and you lost control over your body completely. You seized up, eyes rolling back into your skull and god no, you weren’t moaning anymore. You were screaming his name so loudly, it echoed off the walls, pulling at his hair so harshly, you could hear him grunt and hiss both in pleasure and pain whenever you needed to gasp for air.
His fingers continued to fuck into you, pulling the orgasm into an excruciating length. You gushed around them, soaking the sheets beneath you and Minho was more than happy to lap it all up as if it was the best meal he ever had.
“Fuck”, he grunted, still not done, still too fixed onto your used pussy, “That’s it, kitten. Good fucking girl for me”.
It was too much, you were so sensitive. You weakly pushed at his shoulders, trying to signal him to give you a break. It worked, he slowly snapped out of his daze, but it was so hard to do so. Minho really had to remind himself to keep it easy, to not overwhelm you too much, but he needed more than that.
His heart and cock ached all the same for you, he wished he could manhandle you onto your knees and-
God, he had to stop thinking about it.
He retracted his fingers, shivering. Your ears probably turned beet red when you saw his glistening face, some of your mess still dripping from his chin. There was a smug grin on his wet lips when he noticed, he leaned back over you, face hovering over yours.
“You want a taste, huh? Admiring your work?”.
He kissed you, his tongue swiping over your lower lip and prying your mouth open with it. You gasped heavily, your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him in deeper.
Minho groaned, he couldn’t help it. He needed relief so badly and you were there, fully naked right there underneath him. Your soft body so close, full on display.
He rocked his hips forward once, just once. And he was gone. Another groan from him, muffled by your own mouth. It just felt so good, he pressed his twitching cock against your core over and over again, thinking about how it would possibly feel like to sink into your tight heat. How it would feel like when he pinned you down. How it would feel to fold you in half just to hear you scream his name like that again.
“Min-“.
“Huh?”, he made.
He forced himself to still, but his whole body was vibrating. He really hoped you wanted to tell him that you needed a break. Or wanted to stop right there. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if you kept this pace up.
“Can I touch you now?”, you asked reluctantly.
Minhos brain short circuited.
“You- why?”.
“I don’t know- I want to make you feel good”, you said, your hands settling in his shoulders, “But you’ll have to show me how”.
Minho was about to burst. You were so innocent, adorable. He sighed deeply, sitting back against the backrest.
You crawled over to him, but instead decided to get up and kneel on the floor in between his spread legs to have better access. This would be Minhos downfall, he knew it. The way you looked up at him so patiently, waiting for him to guide you.
The bulge of his cock pressing against his pants was impressive, you thought. You reached for it, cautiously wrapping your fingers around the curve.
“Ohh- fuck-“, he gasped.
You weren’t even properly touching him, no skin on skin. But it was enough to make him lean back, slump against the cushions and let his mouth hang open.
Your eyes were watching him attentively, searching for any kind of discomfort you would make him feel with your lack of experience. But you could clearly see he found that endearing. His gaze was so fondly yet so lustful, every little hesitating twitch of your fingers made him gasp.
For the first time this evening, you noticed that Minho was turned on by it. And that changed everything for you.
“Can I pull it out?”, you asked, tilting your head.
He nodded, his fingers digging into the couch on each side of him.
Just like he did, your actions were slow. You remembered how exciting the anticipation had felt and you wanted him to experience the same. And Minho loved how bold you were with it, how much courage you seemed to muster, but also how you seemed to get behind the things he liked.
You unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper. You were still nervous, you had to bite your tongue slightly before you reached into his boxer briefs while pulling the waistband down a bit. Minho lifted his hips to help you, gasping softly when you finally touched him.
It was a bit intimidating to see his cock up close. He was hard, in a deep red color and a drop of liquid was already daring to drip down.
“You can- wrap your hand around it. Gentle”, Minho said, taking your hand into his to guide your fingers around it.
You squeezed him once, earning a hiss from him. He bucked his hips up, couldn’t stop himself from tucking into your hand with leisure and shallow little thrusts.
“Fuck- sorry”, he groaned, “Move your hand, yeah? You can twist it a little”.
He moved with you, showing you how he liked it, but let his hand fall to his side when you slowly got the hang of it. Seeing him falling apart like this probably was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Minho let his head fall back, every breath he took shaking and in uncontrolled gasps.
“Does that feel good?”, you asked.
Minho grinned, laughing a bit hoarsely.
You really knew what you were doing to him. You knew and you were teasing him. Little brat.
“Feels amazing, kitten”, he huffed, “Wanna taste it?”.
Minho hadn’t planned on asking you that - he hadn’t planned any of it. But he could see that little mischievous glint in your eyes. He wondered what made you so bold, although you had no experience. Either way, this was a dream come true for him.
“You’d let me?”, your head tilted a bit.
Minho wanted to bite his fist.
You leaned in, darting your tongue out to lap up the drop of pre cum.
God, how was he supposed to stop himself from fucking your mouth like this? You were so hesitant and unsure, but you still kissed the tip of his cock and licked over it so slowly, his eyes rolled back into his skull.
“Fuck-“, it was barely a sound, muttered under his breath.
“Tell me what feels good“, you demanded, your hand still on his base.
“Hahh- just- take it into your mouth first”.
You parted your lips obediently, sinking down and taking him inch by inch. Minho trembled, digging his fingers deep into the cushions to fight the urge to grab your head and hold it in place to fuck you into the wet heat.
“We can try that if you want to”, you said, “Why not?”.
Oh god.
Did he really just say that out loud?
“I- no”, Minho stuttered, but couldn’t contain the next groan when you licked the underside of his cock up to the head.
“I trust you, baby”, you said again.
“Don’t”, he laughed, “I don’t think I could handle this if you let me”.
There was a little whimper on his lips when you sucked on the tip for a second, that urged you to take his hand - pry it off the cushions to guide it to your cheek.
“I want you to show me how to properly do it. Show me exactly how you want it, Min”.
“Fuck- but- you gotta-”, he couldn’t control his body, his hand slipping to the back of your head before he roughly thrusted up into your mouth.
You gagged around his length, but still found a lot of appeal in the feeling of it reaching so far inside, you could feel it hitting the back of your throat. Minho groaned with a very broken sound.
“Sorry, kitten, it just feels so-“.
Should he do it again? Damn, it felt so good, but-
“Do it again”, you gasped.
Something snapped inside of Minho. He felt it. You did too. You saw it in his eyes, the way he stared down at you - he held his breath, there was silence for a second.
Then, his other hand crept towards you, fingers gripping your hair to push your head all the way down once, twice. He grunted again.
“Fuck, take it then”.
Your hands grabbed his thighs, bracing yourself. Although you were struggling, trying hard to keep your body as slack as possible so he could push you down whenever he liked it - you couldn’t deny how hot this was.
Minhos face was scrunched up in the darkest and deepest form of pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes half lidded as he moaned loudly every time you gasped. You felt your pussy dripping, ruining the carpet underneath you.
“Kitten-“, Minho cooed breathlessly, “If I had known your pretty mouth takes my cock so well- God”.
His movements were erratic, frantic, but still had some kind of rhythm in it. It helped you breathe more constantly through your nose and you couldn’t hold back your own moans as this scene in front of you was too good to look away unaffected.
He alternated between pushing your head down and pulling it back up by your hair and thrusting up in quick snaps of his hips.
You wondered how his cock would feel like when it was inside your pussy, you imagined it hitting the same spot he had shown you with his fingers - just like it was now hitting your throat every single time.
It was impossible to try and fight the urge to let one of your hands slip in between your legs. It was hard to concentrate and memorize what he had told you, how his fingers had curled inside of you. It was embarrassing how wet you were, your own arousal mixing with his saliva into a sinful liquid that you used to rub over your clit with a more intense feeling.
“You look so fucked out, kitten. So pretty. You like when I fuck your mouth like this? You like being used for my pleasure?”.
He pulled you up far enough so his cock slipped out of your mouth, a harsh grip angling your head up to look up at him.
“Tell me. You enjoy choking on that dick?”, he asked, his thumb gently removing your spit from your lower lip in a heavy contrast to his previous actions.
“Yes- I love it”.
“Are you touching yourself? Getting off to being throatfucked? Am I really turning you into such a filthy slut? Damn-“, he mocked you and your pussy acted accordingly by throbbing against your hand.
You nodded hastily, the friction against your clit felt so good, your mind was so empty.
“You’d let me cum into your mouth? Be a good girl and swallow it for me?”.
He wasn’t afraid of going overboard anymore. Not with your bright grin and enthusiastic nod.
“I’m already close, kitten. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer, yeah?”, his voice was hoarse but gentle.
You took him back into your mouth by yourself, but proceeded to let him do as he pleased again. His cock twitched heavily and relentlessly against your tongue. The circles on your clit got faster, trying to find the same rhythm he had chosen, but his thrusts were uncontrolled and messy.
The amounts of groans and moans were getting more and more with every passing second, and he was right, he was very close.
One last push on your head, combined with him burying his dick as deep as possible to force his cum down your throat. You gagged, swallowed around him and it only seemed to make his orgasm even more intense.
His grip on your hair was rough, pulling at it to smother down the intense feeling and you were almost finishing yourself when the pain mixed with the pleasure. But he let you breathe as soon as he stopped spilling inside of you, his hands leaving you completely as you came up again.
Minho was certain. You had never looked hotter than in this moment. Your eyes were almost crossing, breathing heavily as his cum was still dripping from your lips.
His cum tasted salty, it was heavy on your tongue, but also kinda addicting. The reminder that you actually managed to make him feel that good.
This has been more than Minho had expected, more than he even dreamed to ever happen. His heart soared, felt light.
“I love you”, he muttered.
You didn’t even hesitate.
“I love you too”.
You climbed into his lap without thinking, wrapping your arms around him and pulling close. He was still incredibly hard, pressing against your core and making both of you gasp.
“I love you”, he whispered again, leaning in some more to kiss you chastely, “I love you so much”.
“I’ve waited so long for you to say that”, you mused, combing his hair back and out of his face.
“I know”, his hands wrapped around your waist, gently rubbing you, feeling you, “And I’m sorry about that”.
You shook your head, signaling him he didn’t need to. You looked at each other and you could clearly see how enamored Minho was. His gaze was so soft, so gentle after what just had happened.
“I want to feel you-”, you said quietly, hands searching for his skin under his shirt, which he quickly discarded, “Inside of me”.
Minhos grin was silly.
“Kitten, I don’t know if I can last that long”, he chuckled, “We don’t have to do it right now, you know?”.
But your body and your mind were so certain. You were sure you wanted this. Maybe - it was more of a need than a want. And to be honest, you probably would reach another orgasm very quick as well, you were still all riled up.
“I don’t care”, you said, feeling bold enough to grind down on him and making him gasp in surprise.
“Damn- I really did that to you”, he shook his head, “Let me get a condom, I’ll be right back”.
You shook your head.
“I said I wanted to feel you”.
He swallowed audibly before he groaned. You felt him twitch underneath you, urging you to rock your hips forward - just like he had shown you.
“Kitten- I don’t know what to say”, he huffed.
“Don’t say anything- just- fuck me”.
Your hands came up his chest, reaching for his pecs and letting your nails graze over the skin.
“Fuck- you’re going to be the death of me”, he helped you lifting yourself up, a hand around his cock guided himself to your entrance, “Go slow, yeah? You decide the pace”.
You nodded, letting him sink in slowly. He hissed, eyes closed in a concentrated and pleasure twisted face. Your heart was loud, you could hear it ring in your ears and it drowned out every other sound - you almost missed Minhos choked out moan.
“God- you feel- so fucking tight”, a hand left you, balling into a fist so he could dug his teeth into it, “Slow down-“.
But you didn’t even think of it, your pussy sucked him in greedily. It didn’t want you to go any slower. You arched your back, the feeling of his cock reaching so deep and dragging against your walls was mind blowing.
“I said fucking slow down-“, his hands squeezed your hips to make you stop right when he bottomed out, “I’m gonna cum- stop”.
“You- Min”, you were already trembling, already on the verge of your release, “You’re filling me up so good”.
The sound he made led to you clenching down on his length. The feeling of his cock stretching you out wasn’t even hurtful, it was grounding, intense and breathtaking.
“Don’t say shit like that- makes me want to-“.
“Do whatever you want with me”, you breathed, letting your head fall back while you gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life, “Please, fuck me”.
He didn’t even answer, he grabbed you and flipped you over - just like he had done it before when you had been in this position. He held himself up on his knees, his hands holding onto the lower part of your hips for leverage. His thrusts were harsh, relentless, but already stuttering.
“Min- hahh-“.
You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, but you weren’t able to speak either way. He was fucking you into the couch, making it squeak underneath you and punching every thought out of your brain with every snap of his hips.
It sent you over the edge immediately. This orgasm was even more intense, crushing your lungs as you tried to gasp for air.
“Fuck- fuck- you wanted this, gonna fill you up, make you mine”.
His cock was probably bruising your insides, marking you in the best way possible and claiming your pussy for good when he came inside of you with a guttural moan. You felt him twitch as he reached his peak, spilling as deep inside of you as possible and fucking his cum in every crevice of your walls. You whimpered, whined loudly out of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. The waves of endorphins were paralyzing your whole body, every muscle was seizing and relaxing in sync with his thrusts and your heartbeat.
It took him some time to come down, to even realize he was still moving - as if your pussy had entranced him and made him drunk on the sensation.
God, Minho really hoped this wasn’t a dream. Because now, when he had you like this once - he would make sure to fulfill every single one of his darkest thoughts. He was certain you’d love it.
Synopsis: One night, you accidentally found a diamond ring hidden in the closet. Naturally, you assume your boyfriend, Seungmin, is going to get on his knee and pop the question. Since then, every dinner, every date, every tender look from Seungmin feels like it could be ‘the moment’ — until it isn’t. (22,6k words)
Author's note: It's been a while since my last Seungmin fic so I hope you enjoy this fluffy (and just a tad bit angsty fic) ❣️
You aren’t just good at your job—you are brilliant.
Vice President at one of the most prestigious firms in the city, your days are built on back-to-back meetings, business proposals, and decisive strategy calls. You thrived in it all. There is something intoxicating about the fast-paced rhythm and high-stakes negotiations, the weight of your signature at the bottom of a multimillion-dollar deal.
You walk through skyscraper hallways like you belong there and you do. Still, no matter how polished your days looked in heels and tailored blazers, the part you always looked forward to most is coming home.
Your apartment—shared with your boyfriend of five years—sits high in a sleek building that towered above the glittering city skyline. From the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can watch the sun melt into orange and gold behind the glass silhouettes of the skyline, the lights of the world flickering to life beneath you.
You toe off your shoes at the door, setting your bag down on the console table. You roll up the sleeves of your silk blouse and head to the kitchen. You start by washing your hands, hair loosening from the tight twist it lived in all day.
Cooking helps you unwind. You grab the ingredients for dinner and hum a little tune as you chop and stir, your voice mixing with the soft jazz playing from the portable speaker.
It’s simple and domestic in a way that feels earned. Because even with all your success, all the accolades and titles and salary numbers most people your age only dreamed of—you still cherished this: a quiet evening while anticipating for your boyfriend’s return.
You’re just setting the table when you hear the sound of the door unlocking. Keys jingling, then a soft click and then he’s there.
“Smells like someone’s trying to win girlfriend of the year,” Seungmin calls out as he steps inside, the familiar edge of exhaustion softened by affection.
You glance over your shoulder and smile, finding Seungmin dressed in navy suits. The jacket already draped over one arm, tie slightly loosened at the collar. His hair is a little tousled, like he ran his hands through it on the elevator ride up—his version of unwinding.
“I thought I already won that last year,” you say, setting down the last plate.
“You did,” he grins, shrugging off his bag and making his way to you. “But I like that you’re not getting complacent.”
He leans in to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. It’s gentle, but it says everything—I missed you, I see you, we’re here now.
Seungmin is just as much a force in his world as you are in yours. A high-stakes corporate lawyer known for his razor-sharp mind and unbeatable composure in the courtroom. He thrives under pressure, commands rooms without raising his voice, and has the kind of reputation that even senior partners take seriously.
That’s what you have in common, really. The ambition. The passion. The shared understanding that success isn’t something you luck into—it’s something you grind for. But even more than that, you both believe that relationships, like careers, needed investment. Time. Intention.
So, you make time. No matter how late your meetings run or how chaotic his court schedule gets, you always come back to this: dinner, together. Phones down, minds open, hearts soft.
You both eventually settle at the table. The city glows outside the window behind him, casting golden light over his features as he fills your glass with wine.
“So,” he says, resting his chin in his hand, eyes trained on you, “tell me everything. Wins, losses, scandalous office gossip—what’s the highlight reel today?”
You laugh, reaching for your fork. “Well, let’s just say the intern who accidentally CC’d the entire company on her resignation email now has a fan club.”
He chuckles, and just like that, the stress of your day begins to peel away. This is how the two of you survive the whirlwind—by anchoring yourselves in these moments.
And in moments like this, you can’t help but think: if you were to spend the rest of your life exactly like this, it would still be more than enough. You just didn’t know how much that thought would start to shift soon.
-
Later, the two of you move in sync, the way only people who know each other’s routines by heart do.
You're in the bathroom now, side by side at the sink. You’re patting toner into your cheeks while Seungmin brushes his teeth, bent slightly over the sink in a faded gray tee and sweatpants that sit a little too low on his hips.
You catch his reflection in the mirror. His hair is still slightly damp from his quick shower, and he gives you a lazy smile, foamy toothpaste making him look younger than usual.
It’s such a simple moment, but it feels like home.
You turn to grab your moisturizer just as he leans in to spit, and your shoulders bump. “Oops, sorry,” you say, voice soft.
He tilts his head slightly, flashing you a half-smirk. “Shoulder check me again and we’re gonna have a problem.”
You roll your eyes with a laugh and nudge him again, just because you can.
By the time you finish up and head to the bedroom, the city has quieted. The only sounds are the faint traffic several stories below and the rustle of sheets as you both climb into bed. You propped up by a pillow against the headboard, a book resting open in your hands. You’re halfway through a paragraph when the bed dips beside you.
Seungmin crawls up from the foot of the bed, slow and catlike, until he’s beside you, leaning over with a soft, almost mischievous smirk. His lips press to your cheek, featherlight, then to your jaw. You don’t look up from your book, but the corners of your mouth curve.
“Hi,” you murmur.
He hums a greeting into the space behind your ear, then kisses just below it. “How far in are you?” he asks, voice muffled slightly against your skin.
“Chapter fourteen,” you reply, flipping the page. “The main character just found out her sister’s been lying to her for, like, five years.”
He lets out a thoughtful little noise, lips drifting lower—along your jawline, then to your neck, pausing to linger at that one spot that always makes you squirm. “Sounds dramatic,” he says, his voice a little too casual for someone currently distracting you from the plot.
“Very,” you say, holding back a smile. “I would be more into it if someone wasn’t trying to seduce me with neck kisses.”
“I’m not seducing you,” he murmurs, now kissing down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m appreciating you.”
Then, he pauses. “Wait… are you using a new lotion?”
You finally glance at him, raising a brow. “Yep.”
He leans in and inhales lightly near your shoulder. “Smells like coconut.”
Your smile grows. “Correct. Bonus points for identifying the scent.”
“I’ll collect them later,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin before resuming his trail of kisses, slow and lazy, like he’s in no rush at all.
You try—really try—to keep your eyes on the page, but Seungmin makes it nearly impossible. His lips keep moving—down your shoulder, along your collarbone, ghosting over your chest with featherlight kisses that trail heat in their wake. You shift slightly, book still in hand, but your focus has long since slipped through your fingers.
“Seungmin,” you murmur, half a warning, half a sigh.
“Keep reading,” he says softly, voice low and teasing near your waist. “Don’t mind me.”
You let out a quiet whine, a protest laced with laughter, but you don’t stop him.
Seungmin doesn’t stop either. His mouth continues its slow descent, inch by inch, kisses landing on the curve of your stomach, your hip, then lower still. The hem of your sleep shorts shifts as he settles between your legs, nudging the fabric aside, his breath warm against your skin. Then his fingers hook around your underwear, and in one smooth motion, he tugs it down.
You glance away from your book now, heart skipping, only to find him looking up at you with that wild, naughty glint in his eyes.
“You worked hard today,” he says, lips brushing the inside of your thigh. “Let me help you relax.”
A soft laugh escapes you, caught between amusement and desire. “Is this a reward system now?”
He smirks, eyes never leaving yours. “Mm-hmm.” He nods, slowly, smug and sweet all at once. “Positive reinforcement.”
Your cheeks flush, but your smile grows with it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful,” he replies, pressing one last kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh.
You shake your head, biting back a smile, and with a quiet breath, you let yourself lean back fully against the pillows, parting your legs for him.
He looks up at you one more time, a soft, knowing expression on his face—affection woven seamlessly with desire. And in that look, you feel it again: how much he sees you, how much he chooses you. Every time.
Despite having Seungmin’s head between your legs as he pleases you with his mouth, you try to keep your eyes on the page. The words blurring slightly as you breathe through the sensation building between your legs from the way he licks and sucks, flicking his tongue on the right spots.
The book trembles faintly in your grip, your fingers tightening around it each time Seungmin’s mouth moves just right. He’s slow, attentive—almost too much so. Then he hums against your drenched cunt. A deep, satisfied sound that vibrates through your core, making you gasp softly.
He pauses for just a beat to say, “God, I missed this.”
Your head tips back against the headboard, a breathless laugh slipping past your lips. “You missed going down on me?”
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even try to play coy. “Yeah,” he says, looking up at you with that maddeningly proud smile. “Think about this sweet, little pussy all day.”
You let out a quiet, incredulous chuckle, your free hand covering your face for a second before falling to your side. “You’re so—”
“I know.” He kisses your inner thigh again, grinning into your skin. “Lucky for both of us, I get to do something about it now.”
You give up on the book entirely, dropping it to the side, pages folding shut as your body arches instinctively toward him. Your hand slips into his hair, fingers curling as he gets back to work, tongue and lips relentless, methodical in the way only Seungmin can be when he’s determined to ruin you.
It doesn’t take long for him to do that. You’re a mess beneath him—moaning, trembling, your fingers fisted in his hair like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the world. Each movement of his mouth feels more precise, more purposeful, like he’s reading every sound you make, every shiver that ripples through you.
The way you fall apart under him only drives him further. He’s focused—relentless in that quiet, devoted way of his, like this is something he needs to do for you.
Your breath catches, hips stuttering beneath his hands as your body tightens, and you manage a desperate, shaky whisper of his name. “Seungmin—Oh...”
He hums with his mouth full of your wet cunt and it sends another wave through you.
That’s all it takes. You come with a soft, broken cry. Your thighs trembling around him, hand tugging sharply in his hair as your back arches off the bed. He holds you through it with mouth still coaxing every last flicker of pleasure from you until you’re gasping, limp and boneless against the sheets. Only then does he pull back, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression soft and smug all at once.
“You okay?” he casually asks, crawling back up beside you, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your forehead.
You can only nod, eyes half-lidded, breath still catching in your throat.
He smiles and leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple, then one to your lips—gentle and full of the affection that’s always been the heart of what you share. “Reward systems,” he murmurs, chuckling. “Highly effective.”
You’re still catching your breath when you shift slightly, your body pressed against Seungmin’s side, cheek resting on his chest. He’s warm and steady beneath you, arm draped lazily around your waist like he’s content to stay like this for hours, but you’re not done with him just yet.
You glance up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You know,” you murmur, voice low and playful, “you work hard too. Day and night.”
His eyes flick down to meet yours, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” you hum, hand drifting down, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. You palm his cock gently, feeling the way his body reacts to your seductive touch—quick and eager, the tension building beneath your fingers as you give his length slow, gentle strokes. “I think you’ve earned a reward too.”
Seungmin exhales sharply, his muscles tensing as he watches you with growing interest.
“Go on,” you add with a smirk, fingers curling ever so slightly. “Collect your bonus points.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes narrowing with playful warning. “Dangerous game you’re playing.”
But you only smile wider, hand continuously stroking him. “I like high stakes,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss just below his jaw.
Seungmin groans softly, hands gripping your hips. “So do I.”
He hovers above you, his face close, breath mingling with yours. He repeatedly rubs the tip of his cock between your folds, letting your essence drenching every inch of his throbbing length. The longer he does it, the more you anticipate it. When he finally pushes in, the sheer size gives you that delicious stretch, making you moan in both pain and pleasure.
“I know you can take it,” he murmurs as he pushes the remaining length with such intensity that a cry slips out of your parted mouth.
The two of you taking a moment to savor it — the feeling of connecting to one another, physically and emotionally. He runs his hand down your front and then rests it on your abdomen.
He looks at you, his eyes heavy with both lust and love. “I'm going to move now, yeah?” he asks, his gaze tender yet smoldering.
With that, your bodies move together in a slow, steady rhythm—his hips rolling into yours, his chest brushing yours with every thrust. His forehead rests gently against yours at first, and the low sounds he makes—those quiet, breathy groans, the occasional broken whimper—fill the silence between kisses like a melody only you were meant to hear.
You reach up, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead, fingertips lingering on his temple. “Seungmin,” you whisper, voice trembling from pleasure, “you make me feel so good.”
His eyes flutter open at that, gaze locking with yours. The look he gives you is raw, open, like he’s trying to say everything he feels without words. He takes a mouthful of your breast, tongue swirling around your hard nipple before he lets go with a popping sound.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, breath catching as he sinks into you again. “Every time.”
The pace turns slower yet deeper, drawing out the tension between you, making every movement feel more intimate, more intense. He keeps his eyes on you, like he wants to remember every expression, every sound you make.
You moan his name again, soft and needy, and he shudders above you, his control slipping just a little. He presses his lips to your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder like he can’t get close enough, like he wants to memorize your skin.
He keeps moving like that—changing pace, adjusting his angle—until you're gasping beneath him, your nails digging into his back as your legs tighten around him. And when he finally lets himself go, buried deep inside you with a choked, desperate sound, you feel it in every part of you—not just the heat, not just the tension snapping, but the emotion behind it.
Because with Seungmin, it’s never just physical. It’s love, every time. And he makes sure you know that with his hands, with his body, with the way he holds you after.
-
The scent of freshly ground coffee and melting butter fills the kitchen. Sunlight streaking through the blinds in warm, golden bands. The city is just beginning to wake outside, but inside your apartment, it’s slow and quiet—the kind of morning that only belongs to weekends.
You’re standing by the stove, slowly stirring scrambled eggs, carefully watching their texture. They’re just starting to come together, soft and glossy, not too dry. You tilt the pan slightly, flicking your wrist the way Seungmin always says brings out the perfect consistency.
Behind you, Seungmin stands by the counter, completely focused on the kettle. He holds the thermometer just above the water, brow furrowed, waiting for the precise number to hit before pouring it over the coffee grounds in steady, slow circles.
You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk. “You’re acting like you’re defusing a bomb.”
He doesn’t look up. “That’s because good coffee is a must in this household.”
You laugh under your breath and return to the eggs, taking them off the heat just before they finish cooking, leaving them soft, just how he likes them. You add a pinch of salt, a bit of cracked pepper, then plate them while he finishes pouring the last of the water into the carafe.
By the time you both sit down at the small dining table, everything is quiet again. Coffee, eggs, toast. Then you clink your mugs together in a mock toast before taking your first sip.
“This is nice,” you murmur, resting your cheek in your palm as you watch him butter a piece of toast like he’s doing brain surgery.
He glances up with a soft grin. “Mm. Still think I make better eggs than you.”
“You do,” you admit, stealing a bite from his plate anyway. “But I’m still the fun one.”
He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No argument there.”
Weekends are sacred in your relationship. An unspoken promise to reconnect after a long week of endless meetings, deadlines, and case files. Sometimes that means spending the whole day together—brunch, errands, movies on the couch, lazy evenings tangled up in each other. Other times, it means giving each other space. Because loving each other also means understanding that you are your own people, too.
“So,” he says between sips of coffee, “baseball game starts at five. Jisung's meeting me there. Should be back before midnight.”
You nod. “Yes, I remember cause you’ve been talking about it all week.”
He gives you a little look—half proud, half sheepish. “I might yell.”
“You will yell,” you say knowingly, grinning. “Just don’t get too carried away and angers everyone around you.”
He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Not my fault they made that stupid call in the seventh inning.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you sip your coffee.
“And you?” he asks. “Still doing that girls’ night?”
“Mhm. Marion’s coming over later. We’re doing the full thing—masks, sugary cocktails, probably something embarrassing on Netflix.”
Seungmin raises a brow, mock serious. “Try not to drink too much and gossip about me behind my back.”
You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “I could do that.”
He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re lucky I like you, you know.”
You nonchalantly shrug. “I know.”
And just like that, the rest of the morning unfolds in soft conversation and shared glances—two people perfectly in rhythm, building a life that’s equal parts warmth, work, and a little bit of mischief.
-
Marion shows up right on time, wearing loose linen pants and a graphic tee, sunglasses still perched on her head despite the setting sun. The moment you open the door, she throws her arms around you.
“God, it feels like forever,” she says into your shoulder.
You hug her tightly, laughing. “It’s been a week.”
“Exactly. Forever.”
When she pulls back, she holds up a brown paper bag with a smug grin. A long-necked wine bottle is very visibly poking out the top, along with what looks like a skincare sheet mask box and possibly a pint of ice cream tucked at the bottom.
“I brought the essentials,” she says proudly.
You eye the wine and nod in approval. “You understood the assignment.”
Behind you, Seungmin is just finishing up, adjusting the hem of his jersey and tossing on a cap that matches it perfectly. He steps into the entryway and flashes Marion a grin. “Hey, Marion.”
“Hey, Seungmin,” she replies. “You look like you’re about to fight someone over a bad pitch.”
“Not ruling it out,” he immediately replies, grin widening. Then he turns to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you lift your chin to meet him.
He kisses you fully, just shy of teasing. It’s the kind of kiss that says I'll miss you, even if you’ll be apart for just a few hours. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead briefly against yours. “Don’t drink too much,” he murmurs.
You chuckle. “No promises.”
He shakes his head, muttering under his breath like he’s half-exasperated, half-entertained. You lean in and plant a quick kiss on his jaw, grinning. He always looks too cute when he’s annoyed in that quiet, worried way of his.
The two of you move toward the front door, and as he puts on his sneakers, he glances over his shoulder. “Marion, I expect my girlfriend is still in one piece when I'm back, yeah?”
Marion doesn’t miss a beat. “Can’t make any promises. But if I do, I’ll probably just take a bite out of her.”
You laugh, watching them with a shake of your head. Seungmin’s tying his laces, but he’s smiling. Once he’s done, you reach for his wrist, tugging him gently back toward you. You press one more kiss to his lips—longer this time.
He sighs into it, like he doesn’t actually want to go, and you whisper, “Have fun.”
But Seungmin squints at you, narrowing his eyes. “You. Don’t have too much fun.”
You can’t help but laugh again. “That also, I can't promise,” you say, for the second time.
He rolls his eyes, muttering something in mock defeat, but there’s that charming smile again as he lifts a hand in farewell and steps out the door. You watch it close behind him, the quiet clicking into place like a soft punctuation mark.
When you turn back around, Marion is already in the kitchen, holding up two glasses of mimosas with a satisfied grin.
“Cheers to nights in and no boys allowed,” she says.
You take your glass, clinking it against hers. “Cheers.”
-
It starts with the idea of “just one cookie.”
One cookie turns into an attempt to make a whole batch. That turns into realizing neither of you have measured anything quite right. That turns into the first tray coming out entirely too dark on the bottom. Marion swears they’re “extra toasty,” but even she admits the crunch sounds suspicious.
Now, you’re both leaning against the counter, wine glasses half-full again, laughing as the second batch bakes and this time with the timer actually set and taken seriously.
“You know,” Marion says between bites of a still-warm cookie from the improved batch, “I always thought Seungmin was super serious when I first met him. Like, scary lawyer energy. And then you told me he sleeps with one sock on because he can’t stand it when both feet are warm.”
You nearly choke on your wine. “Oh my God—don’t expose him like that.”
“I like him, but come on,” she laughs. “That’s a little unhinged.”
You nod, grinning. “He says it’s about temperature regulation, but I think he’s just stubborn.”
Marion wiggles her fingers dramatically. “Genius boy logic.”
You swirl your glass, smiling softly into it. “Honestly, sometimes he says things that are so dry I don’t know if he’s joking or judging me. But then he breaks and laughs at his own joke for like, a full minute. It’s the cutest thing.”
“That’s criminally cute.” Marion nudges your arm. “You’re so gone for him.”
You shrug, but the smile on your lips betrays you. “I really am.”
She sighs, setting her glass down and hopping up to sit on the edge of the counter. “Isn’t it crazy? Like, we’re at that age where we’re not just dating people who are fun. We’re dating people who we could actually see in our lives for a long time.”
“Yeah,” you say softly, nodding. “And somehow it still feels just… easy.”
Marion sips her wine before nodding in agreement. “That’s so true.”
“What about you and Leo?”
“Oh God,” she groans in mock embarrassment. “He’s convinced he can dance. And he can’t. At all. But he’ll do this horrible little shoulder wiggle every time he brushes his teeth and makes eye contact with himself in the mirror.”
You both burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the kitchen as the smell of sweet dough fills the air again. The timer goes off, and this time, the cookies come out golden and perfect. You each grab another and lean against the counter again, barefoot and tipsy, warm with wine and sugar and the feeling of knowing someone who knows you.
In this moment, everything feels light and easy. Well, until Marion spills her mimosas on the couch. You’re both laughing about it while you rummage through the linen closet in the hallway, muttering about how everything in this apartment magically disappears when you actually need it.
You’re halfway to tipsy and elbow-deep in a search for extra towels. You tug at a thick stack of folded tablecloths near the back, pulling them forward and— thunk.
Something small and soft hits the hardwood floor at your feet. You blink and look down. A square velvet box sits there, deep navy in color. Your brows knit together as you crouch down, curiosity tugging at your fingers as you pick it up and open it.
Inside, nestled in the cushioned lining, is a ring. Not just a ring. That kind of ring. Gold band. A classic cut diamond. Undeniably meant for a certain question and a promise.
“OH MY GOD,” Marion shrieks behind you.
You nearly drop the box as you jolt in surprise, whipping your head around to find her standing in the hallway, eyes wide, hand over her mouth like she just watched a K-drama twist unfold in real time.
“What?” you ask, still crouched, heart hammering, your voice weirdly flat compared to the chaos in your chest. “What is this?”
Marion walks over in slow, careful steps, like she’s approaching something sacred. “Are you serious? Are you serious right now?”
You look down at the ring again. It sparkles faintly under the hallway light. “I mean… it’s a ring. But—”
She lets out a dramatic gasp. “You dummy! It’s your ring!”
You blink up at her. “What are you talking about?”
Marion throws her hands up, pointing down at the velvet box. “That is an engagement ring. That’s a proposal ring! Look at it—it’s literally from that high-end designer boutique. I recognize the box! And the cut of the diamond—come on, that is classic proposal energy.”
Your mouth opens. Then closes. You look at the ring again, mind slowly catching up with her words. “I mean…” you start, hesitating, “he hasn’t said anything. And it was just in the linen closet, not like… hidden hidden.”
“Oh my God,” Marion groans. “It was between tablecloths and towels. Do you think he’d just toss a ring like that there if it wasn’t meant to be a surprise?”
You fall silent, your gaze dropping to the ring again.
She crouches beside you now, her voice softening. “He’s going to propose to you. He probably has a plan. Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment. Or maybe he’s just… trying to figure out how to keep it a surprise because he knows you’ll pick up on it.”
You don’t want to get your hopes up. You really don’t. But the ring is stunning. The kind of ring Seungmin would pick—classic, simple, elegant. You remember how he once made a comment about how you always liked things that lasted. And now it’s sitting in your palm, blinking at you like a secret trying not to be found.
Your chest flutters. Hope blooms slowly, cautiously. “Maybe he is,” you whisper.
Marion grins, eyes misty with excitement. “Girl… he is.”
And for the first time that night, you’re not tipsy on wine, but on possibility. You stay crouched there a second longer, staring down at the ring as if it might suddenly explain itself.
Marion is still next to you, practically vibrating with excitement when you finally whisper, “What do I do?”
She grabs your shoulders like she’s about to shake you. “You put it back.”
“What?” you ask, slightly confused.
“Put. It. Back.” She points emphatically at the linen closet. “Exactly where you found it. Pretend you never saw it.”
You glance at the velvet box in your hand again, hesitant. “What if he notices?”
Marion grins. “Then you say nothing, act innocent, like you have no clue he’s about to propose and marry you. And probably cry when he does it.”
You slap her arm, laughing in disbelief. “Stop.”
She only cackles harder as you carefully tuck the box back between the tablecloths and towels where it had been hidden, adjusting the folds to make it look untouched. You close the linen closet gently, almost like it’s sacred now.
The moment the door clicks shut, Marion shrieks again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh my God, you’re gonna get married!” she says, grabbing your hands.
“Marion,” you hiss through a laugh, trying to hush her. “We don’t even know if that’s what it is.”
She ignores you entirely. “I mean, we need to think colors. Do you want something classic? Romantic? I can already see you in an off-shoulder satin gown—”
“Okay, stop,” you say again, cheeks burning, waving her off as you walk back toward the kitchen. “Nothing’s confirmed.”
She follows you, still buzzing. “But it will be. I know that man. Seungmin is calculated, strategic. If he bought that ring, it’s happening. You're gonna walk into brunch one day wearing that thing and act like you’re surprised. You better start practicing your gasp.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart’s thudding inside your chest, louder than before. You try to brush it off and try to tell yourself that maybe it’s not what it looks like. That maybe it’s a ring for something else, or a decoy, or a mistake. But your fingers still feel the weight of the velvet box.
And no matter how hard you try not to let it take over your thoughts… You can’t help but wonder. What if it is?
-
You pause at the doorway of the bathroom, watching him from behind. Seungmin is standing by the sink, toothbrush in hand, head slightly tilted as he brushes with quiet focus. The dim bathroom light casts gentle shadows on his back, the lines of his shoulder blades, the slope of his neck, the soft dishevel of his dark hair. You find yourself staring, studying the way the fabric of his white tee stretches across his shoulders, the curve of his jaw in the mirror’s reflection.
Sometimes, in mundane moments like this, you still can’t believe he’s yours.
He spits, rinses, then glances up and catches your eyes in the mirror. A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Stop watching me, you creep.”
You laugh softly, stepping forward. “But I’m your creep.”
He shakes his head in amusement as you walk up to him, not caring that he’s now smoothing moisturizer over his face. You slip your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest, melting into his warmth.
He doesn’t even hesitate to wrap his free arm around you, pulling you in closer as he continues gently patting his face with the tips of his fingers.
You tilt your head back slightly, watching him. You could say it now. Ask about the ring. About the velvet box in the linen closet, about what it means. The words press lightly at the back of your throat, but you swallow them down.
Not now. You tell yourself. Because you know Seungmin. He doesn’t rush anything and he’s never made you feel like something was missing. Maybe it’s not the right time, or maybe he is waiting for the right moment. And if it never comes? You’d still choose him. Like this. Like now.
His eyes drop to yours suddenly, as if sensing the thoughts spiraling in your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You shake your head with a smile and bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand rubbing up and down your back in slow, comforting circles. “Marion must’ve made you drink a lot, mmh?”
You scoff into his neck. “That’s the whole point of a girls’ night in.”
He hums in agreement, reaching for a tube of lip balm with one hand and applying it methodically.
You pull back a little just to watch him, lips pursed, face content and freshly moisturized. “Did you miss me too?” you teasingly ask.
He caps the tube and places it down, then cups your jaw with one hand, tilting your face up so your eyes meet. “Of course I missed you,” he answers without a beat.
You scoff at that. “Lie. You forget about everything whenever you watch a baseball game.”
Seungmin lets out a soft chuckle and then he kisses you. It’s tender and slow, thumb brushing lightly along your cheekbone as he deepens it just enough to make your heart skip. Just enough to remind you how much he means it, even if he doesn’t say much. Even now, after almost five years together, his kiss still makes your chest flutter.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are warm, lips curved in that subtle smile of his. “Let’s go to bed.”
You nod but don’t let go. Instead, you jump up, wrapping your arms and legs around him. And he catches you without missing a beat, grunting slightly in surprise. You press a quick kiss to his lips, giggling into it.
Seungmin steadies you, arms securely around your thighs, and gives you that amused grin. “You’re such a big baby.”
Then he gives you a light, playful slap on the butt and carries you out of the bathroom.
You smile against his shoulder, already half-asleep in his hold, completely at peace and content with everything you have. And quietly hoping for what might come next.
-
The week passes in a blur and somewhere along the way, the memory of the ring tucked between the tablecloths and towels fades to the background, replaced by spreadsheets and strategy decks and late nights staring at your laptop until your eyes burn.
By Friday afternoon, you’re buried in emails when your phone starts buzzing on your desk. You glance at the screen. Seungmin.
It’s rare that he calls when you're in the middle of work. You frown slightly, sliding your finger across the screen and lifting it to your ear. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
You expect the worst—something urgent, a change of plans, maybe even bad news. But instead, you hear a soft chuckle on the other end.
“I’m fine,” Seungmin calmly says, “Just wanted to let you know that we’re going out for dinner tonight.”
“Oh?” you say, slightly surprised. “What’s the occasion?”
There’s a brief silence, and then you can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a surprise.”
Before you can press him for more, he hangs up. You lower the phone slowly, staring at it like it might offer an explanation. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself. You don’t want to assume. But your thoughts are already spinning.
A surprise dinner. On a Friday night. No reason, no hints. And suddenly, the memory of that ring box floods back in. Could it be?
You exhale slowly, catching yourself before your imagination runs completely wild. Even if it’s just a regular dinner, you tell yourself, there’s no harm in looking good.
You press the intercom button on your desk. “Hey, Jess? I’m going to step out early today.”
Your assistant’s voice crackles through. “Sure. Want me to clear your schedule for the rest of the day?”
“Yes, please. Something came up. I have... an event tonight.” You smile to yourself.
The moment you end the call, you grab your bag, already planning a visit to the boutique two blocks down. Maybe get something simple yet chic and elegant.
Whatever this night holds, you want to be ready. Just in case.
-
The vanity light glows softly, casting a warm sheen over the organized chaos of your skincare and lipsticks. Your hair is still wrapped in a towel, damp strands clinging to your neck, and your makeup is only halfway done.
In your hand is a champagne flute. Or, well... mostly champagne. You’d started with the idea of a pomegranate spritz, but at the last second, you’d added another splash—or two—of champagne. For courage. For nerves. For what might be happening tonight.
You take a long sip, eyes darting to the hallway. And then, as if your feet move on their own, you walk toward the linen closet. It’s stupid, maybe. But a part of you just wants to know. You’re not trying to ruin anything, you just want confirmation. Or reassurance. Or some kind of sign that your hope isn’t misplaced.
You slowly open the door, the quiet creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the apartment’s stillness. Your hand slides between the stacks of towels and tablecloths, fingers searching the familiar spot, seeking the edge of that velvet box. But all you touch is folded fabric and the smooth, empty wood of the shelf beneath.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. You push the towels aside, check the corners, even lift a few things just to be sure. It’s gone. The ring box isn’t there. Your heart lurches. A rush of adrenaline floods your chest, so fast it’s almost dizzying.
It’s happening. It has to be.
You scramble to put everything back just the way it was, flattening the towels, smoothing out the tablecloths, trying to erase any trace of your little search mission. Just as you shut the closet door with a quiet click, you hear the jangle of keys at the front door.
You make a quick dash to the bedroom, practically throwing yourself into the chair at your vanity. You unwrap your towel, tossing it aside, and reach for your foundation with shaking hands, trying to look like you haven’t just been rooting through a closet like a hopeful maniac.
A moment later, you hear footsteps. Then Seungmin appears in the doorway, still in his sleek work attire except that his tie now slightly loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair a little tousled from the wind outside.
You meet his eyes in the mirror and smile, trying to keep it casual. “Welcome home,” you sweetly greet.
He walks up behind you, leans down, and presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “You smell good,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile against your skin.
You hum softly as he places another kiss on your jaw, your cheeks warming at that.
He straightens, gently tugging at your robe’s collar in that playful way of his. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
And then, with a grin, he adds, “And I’m using your fancy body wash. The expensive one.”
You chuckle under your breath. “So long as you smell like me by the end of it, I won’t complain.”
He winks, already backing toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he disappears behind the door.
You exhale slowly. Your heart is thudding so hard it echoes in your ears, and your reflection is practically glowing with excitement, nerves, and disbelief.
He took the ring. He’s taking you out to dinner. And yet, you still don’t know.
But God, you hope.
-
The city glides by in a blur of golden streetlights and muted reflections in the car windows. Seungmin’s hand rests on the wheel, his other on the gearshift, navigating familiar roads with the kind of effortless ease that only comes from years of doing life together. You sit in the passenger seat, hands folded on your lap, your eyes darting to the glowing dashboard clock—7:08 PM.
He hasn’t said where you’re going so you try to puzzle it out in your head, thinking through every restaurant the two of you have been to. If it’s the Italian place downtown, maybe it’s just a regular Friday night date. But if he’s heading toward the hills, toward the rooftop spots or places with skyline views, then maybe— You shake your head and try to stay calm.
The hum of the engine fills the silence between the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just… charged. And then the car slows, stopping at a red light.
Seungmin glances over at you, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and takes your hand gently, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. The touch is soft and thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, just laces his fingers through yours and holds on. Then, casually, like he’s not slowly unravelling you, he asks, “You hungry?”
You swallow the nerves that are caught in your throat and manage a nod, smiling back. “Actually? Famished.”
At that, Seungmin pulls a dramatic face and squints at you. “Don’t tell me that’s because you drank your weight in pomegranate spritz before dinner.”
You wince with a small laugh, but this time, instead of teasing him back like you normally would, you just shake your head and bite your tongue. You’re afraid if you say too much, he’ll notice the way your voice shakes. The way your hands keep fidgeting in your lap. The way your eyes keep drifting to the glove compartment where, maybe, a ring box might be tucked away. So, you stay quiet.
Seungmin just squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing along your knuckles, and keeps his eyes on the road. Just then, the light turns green and the car moves forward.
Belle Vue. It's the restaurant. The kind of place where people wear tailored suits and sleek dresses and speak in hushed tones over candlelight and wine that costs more than your electricity bill.
Seungmin pulls up to the valet, shifts the car into park, and glances over at you. His expression is unreadable, calm in that effortlessly cool way he always is. You school your face into something neutral just as the valet opens your door.
“Good evening,” the young man says, and murmur a thank-you as you step out, smoothing your dress and clutching your purse a little tighter than necessary.
Seungmin walks around the car, handing the keys over with a quick nod before he turns back to you and reaches for your hand. And together, you walk into the restaurant and the maître d’ looks up with a smile as you approach.
“Reservation under Seungmin Kim,” Seungmin says smoothly.
The host glances at the list, nods, and gestures with a polite smile. “Right this way.”
You trail after him, heart pounding in your chest like it’s trying to beat out the truth. The restaurant is beautiful and intimate. Each table lit by the soft flicker of candlelight, crystal glassware gleaming, then the host stops.
Your table is by the window. The one that offers a stunning view of the city skyline, glittering like a dream just outside the glass. It's the kind of table people book months in advance. The kind of table people get proposed to at. You sit down slowly and carefully, like one wrong move might shatter the moment.
Seungmin takes the seat across from you and thanks the host, who gives a small bow before slipping away.
The signs are everywhere. The view. The reservation. The tone of the night. You barely hear Seungmin when he speaks. “Are you okay?”
You glance up to find him watching you. Not suspiciously, but curiously. Like he knows something’s off. You laugh too softly and wave it off with a smile. “I think it’s the pomegranate spritz. I drank too much while getting ready.”
He squints at you, giving you that signature unimpressed look. “I told you not to drink before dinner.”
You flash a grin, but your fingers tighten slightly around your water glass. “I know. I deserve the lecture.”
He lets it go with a mock sigh and leans back in his seat, casually scanning the menu as if he didn’t just lead you into the most romantic restaurant in the city on a Friday night, sitting across from you looking godly attractive and every bit the man you’ve built a life with.
You nod to yourself, trying to stay composed, but even as the waiter comes by and pours water into your glasses, all you can think is: This could be it.
-
Dinner flows surprisingly well, despite the nerves bubbling just under your skin. Seungmin, as always, is composed. He’s cutting into his entrée with the same precision he approaches everything. He tells you about a new case at work, one that’s been dragging for weeks, and you listen with your chin propped on your hand, your glass of wine untouched for the past few minutes.
The conversation slips easily from work, to life, to a recent player transfer on his favorite baseball team. His voice lights up when he talks about it, and you smile at the familiar passion in his tone—the way he gets animated about stats, potential lineups, strategy.
And then, mid-sentence, he pauses and looks at you. Really looks at you. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says softly.
A smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at your dress. “I snagged the last one in the boutique. Lucky find.”
Seungmin shakes his head slowly. “It’s not the dress. It’s you,” he says. “You look beautiful tonight.”
You’ve received compliments from him before. Lots of them. Casual, playful, sincere. But this one… this one land differently. Maybe it’s the quiet conviction in his voice. Or the way his hand reaches across the table and wraps around yours, fingers fitting together like they always do. Maybe it’s the way his eyes hold yours—tender, thoughtful, like he’s memorizing the moment.
You smile, cheeks warming as you gently squeeze his hand. And then you let your eyes roam over him, fully appreciating the sight before you. Seungmin in a tailored black suit, his white shirt perfectly crisp beneath it, collar resting just right to frame the sharp line of his jaw.
“Look at you,” you murmur, letting your voice drop just enough. “Sitting there looking like a main entrée.”
You smirk as you lower your voice and teasingly add, “I can’t wait to take that white shirt off of you tonight.”
Seungmin leans back in his seat, giving you a slow, dangerous grin. “Let's see if you're lucky tonight.”
You grin back at him, playful and smug, but your heart is racing now—not because of the banter, but because the night is almost over.
As the waiter reappears and begins clearing the plates, he asks, “Are you ready for dessert?”
You barely register the question as you're lost in your head. “Excuse me,” you say quickly, offering a polite smile as you slide your chair back. “I need to go to the restroom.”
Seungmin nods, lifting your hand for a brief kiss before letting you go. “Don’t take too long.”
You nod as you get up from your seat. But as you walk toward the restrooms, your stomach twists. The dinner is nearly over and if he’s going to do it—if tonight is the night—then it’s happening soon.
In the restroom, you lean over the sink, both hands braced on the cool marble countertop, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look stunning—anyone would say that. But your face is tense, your eyes a little too wide, your lips pressed tightly together like you’re holding in a thousand thoughts that don’t have anywhere to go. You inhale. Exhale. Shake out your hands like you’re about to give a keynote speech in front of a thousand people.
This is ridiculous. You’re not even sure if it’s happening tonight. Still, the nerves are real. Palpable. You reach for your purse to find your lipstick, but instead, your fingers brush against your phone. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you tap Marion’s name and press it to your ear.
She doesn’t pick up on the first call. You curse under your breath and hit redial, pacing a slow circle around the restroom. This time, she answers, slightly breathless. “Sorry! I missed the first call—I’m having dinner with Leo. What’s up?”
You don’t even hesitate and blurt out. “I think Seungmin’s going to propose tonight.”
There’s a pause and then a sudden shuffle on the other end of the line. You hear her muffled voice excusing herself before a door shuts in the background, and then—
WHAT?” Marion says quickly. “Now tell me everything. Start from the top.”
You press a hand to your forehead. “Okay, so… he called me this afternoon out of nowhere. Said we’re having dinner tonight. Wouldn’t tell me where. Just that it’s a surprise.”
Marion gasps.
“And then,” you continue, pacing again, “I was getting ready and I—okay, I checked the linen closet. The ring box’s not there anymore. It’s gone.”
“Oh my god.”
“And then he takes me to Belle Vue. Best seat in the house. Full skyline view.” You glance at your reflection again, voice growing quiet. “And the way he looked at me tonight, Marion… I don’t know. It felt like something. Something big.”
There’s a beat of silence before Marion lets out a shriek of joy so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. “I KNEW IT! I knew he was going to propose soon! Everything—literally everything—makes sense!”
You laugh, nerves bubbling over again. “But I... I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
“Girl,” Marion says, her voice dropping into dead-serious mode, “he took the ring out of the closet. He brought you to a place that takes a month to book. And he’s looking at you like you hung the stars. What else could it be?”
You rub your temple, heart racing. “What do I even do if he does?”
“You keep breathing,” Marion says firmly. “You apply a fresh coat of lipstick. Fix your hair. And start practicing your surprised-but-still-glowy-yes-face.”
You snort softly. “Right.”
“I’m serious! I expect a full report by the end of the night. Don’t you dare leave me hanging.”
“Okay, okay,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Love you. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. Just say yes.” She hangs up with one final squeal, and you sigh as you slip your phone back into your purse.
You want to brush it off, laugh it away. But… maybe there’s nothing wrong in being prepared. So you do exactly what Marion said. You blot and reapply your lipstick. Fluff your hair. Practice your smile in the mirror and feel your heart flutter in your chest. You take a final breath to steady yourself, then step out of the restroom and walk slowly, carefully, back toward your table.
Seungmin’s already there, sitting tall with his black suit pristine under the golden glow of the restaurant lights. He looks up the second you appear and smiles. “There you are,” he says. “Dessert’s here.”
You return his smile as gracefully as you can manage and settle back into your seat, murmuring a polite thanks to the server as they place a second silver spoon beside your plate.
The dessert is gorgeous. Artfully plated with swirls of ganache, caramel glass, and something delicate and dusted with powdered sugar. The kind of thing that would usually make you beam with delight. You take a bite and it’s perfect. Silky, rich, melt-on-your-tongue perfect. And yet, your stomach is still in knots.
The air around you feels like it’s waiting for something. Like you’re waiting for something. You sit quietly, your spoon gliding through the dessert, letting yourself hope for just a few more seconds.
Seungmin glances at you from across the table. Then he chuckles. “You got real quiet.”
“It’s the dessert,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Too good to talk through.”
He nods, still smiling, like nothing’s out of the ordinary. And then, his hand disappears into the inner pocket of his jacket.
This is it. This has to be it. Your heart skips. Your whole body stills. You watch, barely breathing, your fingers tightening around your spoon as he pulls something from behind the lapel.
But it’s not a velvet box. It’s his card wallet. He places it on the table, sliding the bill check toward himself. “Figured I’ll take care of it now,” he says casually, flipping it open to slip in his card.
And just like that, the illusion unravels. The anticipation that’s been building all night collapses into the hollow space behind your ribs. You lower your eyes to your plate and push another bite of dessert into your mouth just to keep your expression from cracking.
You’re not sure what disappoints you more—that it didn’t happen… or that you let yourself believe it would. You manage a small smile, nodding at nothing in particular as he chats with the waiter. Because this is just a regular night. Just dinner. Just dessert. And the ring? Whatever it was… maybe it was never for tonight at all.
-
The night air is cooler now, the city buzzing gently in the background as you and Seungmin make your way back to the car. He opens the passenger door for you like he always does, and you slip inside quietly, your mind still reeling from the way dinner ended in… nothing.
You fasten your seatbelt, settling in, trying not to let disappointment cling too heavily to your skin. You glance at him as he gets in on the driver’s side, buckles his own belt, and starts the engine.
Before Seungmin shifts the gear into drive, he pauses. He turns to look at you and with that same soft gaze from earlier, calm but with the slightest hint of mischief. Then, he says: “You ready for the real surprise?”
Your fingers still on your lap as your heart stutters. “There’s more?”
He just smiles and for a moment, you don’t say anything. You’re careful now, cautious—wary. You don’t want to spiral again. You don’t want to go through another round of quiet expectations and louder disappointment. But it’s already happening, isn’t it?
Because maybe he didn’t mean to propose at the restaurant. Maybe he wants somewhere more private. More personal. Somewhere it’s just the two of you. Your thoughts start spinning all over again, and just like that… your hopes are up.
You exhale a little laugh, eyes flicking over to him as you lean back against the headrest. “Should I be nervous?”
Seungmin grins as he puts the car in gear, easing the vehicle into motion. “You’ll see.”
You glance at him as he drives, trying to read something from the side of his face. His lips curve in a satisfied little smirk, like he’s proud of himself—like he’s planned something sweet and thoughtful. You want to match his energy, you really do, but your mind is moving too fast.
The car eventually slows in front of a low-lit building, all glass windows and minimalist signage. You squint at it through the windshield—it looks closed. Not a single light flickers inside.
You frown, confused, but Seungmin just turns off the ignition and steps out like he knows exactly what he’s doing. You follow, heels quiet on the pavement. “What is this place?”
“Trust me. You'll love it,” he says with a small grin, already walking ahead.
The door is shut. The hallway inside is dark, empty. You hesitate as he holds it open for you, a hand gently placed on the small of your back as he leads you inside. And then, the door at the end of the hallway opens, spilling warm golden light into the shadows, and a man greets you with a polite smile. “Welcome. Right this way.”
Seungmin glances back at you, still grinning. “Surprise.”
You follow the waiter down a flight of velvet-covered steps, into the glow of a dimly lit jazz club tucked secretly beneath the city. A stage glows at the center, a band tuning their instruments, the soft rustle of glassware and hushed laughter scattered across booths and tables.
Seungmin’s hand remains on your back as he follows close behind, guiding you into a cozy, curved booth lit by a single low-hanging lamp. As you settle in, the scent of citrus and woodsmoke and fresh linen lingers in the air.
The ambiance. The music. The romantic lighting. You take it all in and despite everything—despite how beautiful it is, how thoughtful it is—you feel a dull ache press against your chest. Because this was supposed to be the night. Because you once mentioned in passing how you wanted to come here, how you read about the craft cocktails and the underground ambiance and Seungmin remembered. But… that’s all it is. Just a surprise date night. Just thoughtful. Not life-changing.
He turns to you, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “Do you like it?”
You look up at him and manage a small. “I love it.”
But Seungmin studies you for a second longer than you’re comfortable with. He’s too smart, too attentive not to notice. “You don’t look like you love it,” he murmurs, brow creasing.
You panic a little—not wanting to ruin the moment, not wanting him to feel like he failed at something he worked hard to plan. So you lean forward and pull him in by his collar, kissing him with more emotion than you planned. It’s soft, deep, thankful—and just a little desperate.
“Thank you,” you whisper as you pull back, your hand still on his cheek. “Really. I love it.”
His eyes search yours for another beat and then he smiles, wide and bright, as if you’ve successfully reassured him.
You lean back into your seat, brushing your fingers along the rim of the menu in front of you. “So…” you say, raising a brow. “Does it mean I can have as many cocktails as I want?”
Seungmin lets out a quiet laugh. “Of course,” he says, already flagging down a server. “That’s one of the perks of dating someone as responsible and reliable as me.”
The way he says it with that cocky grin that first won your heart makes you smile despite the weight in your chest. You order something strong and pretty, something with a salted rim and citrus notes. You sip your first drink slowly, savoring the taste as much as the dull numbness it brings because tonight didn’t turn out the way you thought it would.
And you still love him. You still want him.
-
You wake up late the next morning, the light already soft and golden through the curtains. Your head aches faintly, a dull throb behind your eyes, and your mouth feels dry from the cocktails the night before. You roll onto your side, rubbing the sleep off your eyes before getting up.
The moment you step out of the bedroom, you immediately spot Seungmin standing by the stove. He’s still in his navy sweater from the night before, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair is a mess, sticking up in uneven tufts, and his face is bare, just the soft kind of beautiful you’ve only ever seen when it’s just the two of you.
He glances up and catches your eyes. A smile tugs at his lips as he sweetly greets you. “Morning, sleepyhead. Breakfast will be ready soon.”
You hum in reply and have a seat in the dining table. You prop your chin in your hand, watching him move around the kitchen.
He’s calm, efficient, pouring eggs into a pan, flipping toast, sliding cabinet drawers open with ease. He turns back a minute later with a steaming cup in his hand and walks over to you. “Here,” he says gently, leaning down and holding it out. “Coffee first.”
You take the mug from him with both hands, and before you can say anything, he reaches up and cups your face with one warm hand, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Hungover, mmh?” he murmurs with a knowing smile.
You pout, lips pushing out as you nod.
His touch lingers as he brushes your hair behind your ear, gaze full of amusement and affection. “Do you want something for the headache?”
You give him another nod.
He leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of your head, fingers curling softly around the back of your neck. “I’ll go get it.”
You watch him stand and walk off toward the bathroom, his socked feet padding lightly against the floor. And you feel… small. Not in a bad way. In a protected way. Cradled. Cared for.
In that moment, sitting there in his sweater, with the warmth of the cup of coffee seeping into your hands, your head foggy from the night before, you ask yourself how you could possibly be mad at someone who treats you like this.
It isn’t his fault. He didn’t promise anything. He never gave you reason to believe it would happen last night. That was all you. All your wishful thinking, your hope spun too tightly around small signs. You expected something that didn’t belong to a timeline, something he might be holding onto for later.
You hear him returning before you see him. His steps light but steady, then the faint clink of a glass in his hand. He appears by your side, holding a small white pill and a glass of water.
“Here you go,” he says, handing them over.
You take the ibuprofen and pop it onto your tongue, then chase it down with a long sip of water.
Seungmin watches you quietly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. When you hand the glass back to him, he sets it on the table. Then, without a word, he gently pats the top of your head, his fingers trailing lightly through your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs with playful affection. “Took it like a champ.”
Your lips curl into a soft smile, heart fluttering at the way he’s looking at you right now—fond, warm, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His fingers linger, gently caressing your temple.
You gaze up at him and say with a quiet, almost bashful smile, “I feel better already.”
And despite everything you’re holding in, you mean it. Even if your chest still aches, even if the ring never left his pocket, even if last night didn’t turn out the way you dreamed. Right now, with Seungmin beside you like this, brushing your hair and taking care of you with such ease, it’s enough.
Even if it still hurts a little.
-
The scent of freshly baked pastries and espresso greet you as you step into the café. It’s a bright Sunday morning, but you keep your face composed even though you know exactly why Marion asked to meet today. She hasn’t said it outright, but her texts were filled with excited emojis and vague exclamation points. And you’ve been dodging her calls since yesterday. She’s convinced she knows what happened Friday night. And you? You’re still trying to push the embarrassment down far enough not to wear it on your face.
You stop to scan the room and there she is, already seated by the window, her smile wide and warm as she waves both hands at you. You smile back and walk over, forcing your expression into something sunny and relaxed. She stands to hug you the second you’re close, and you go through the familiar motions—press cheek to cheek, squeeze briefly, sit across from her as if everything is normal.
“Hi, you look amazing,” Marion says, practically glowing. “I’ve missed you.”
You chuckle softly and nod. “Missed you too.”
Before she can get a word in, you flag down a waiter, already pointing at the brunch menu. “Let’s order right away. I’m starving.”
You buy yourself a few more minutes, drinking from your water, nodding when she makes a comment about the décor, but it doesn’t last long.
Once the waiter walks away, Marion leans forward with that signature glint in her eyes. “So,” she begins carefully, “how are you?”
You breathe in. Smile. “I’m good— Great. You?”
“I’m… I’m good,” she says, then breaks into that smile, a little brighter than usual. The one that radiates something new, something big, and then—she lifts her left hand.
Your eyes fall to it instantly. A delicate diamond glints under the light, elegant and perfectly set. Your breath stills.
“He proposed,” she beams, barely holding back a squeal. “Leo proposed last night.”
“Oh,” you say, stunned. “Marion…”
“We were just having dinner at home!” she continues, talking quickly, hands flying. “Like nothing out of the ordinary. He made pasta and opened a bottle of wine and then—God—I turned around and he was on one knee. I thought he dropped something! I literally asked him if he lost a contact lens.”
You laugh, even though it catches a little in your throat. “That’s so Leo.”
“I cried like a baby. It was so us. No big gesture, no fancy restaurant. Just home. And him. And this.” She gestures again to the ring, her fingers shaking slightly.
You nod, trying to swallow around the sudden lump forming in your throat. “It’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”
And you mean it. You do. But your chest still aches.
Marion reaches across the table and takes your hands. “We’re both going to be brides,” she says, glowing. “Can you believe it?”
Something in you cracks. Just a little. You try to smile, try not to let it show, but she sees it. Marion always sees it.
“Wait. Did… did it not happen?”
You pause and then, softly, you shake your head. “No. He didn’t propose.”
“Oh…” Her voice quiets. “I thought—”
“I did too,” you say honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I found the ring, remember? In the linen closet. And then he planned that whole night. The dinner. The jazz club. It just… I really thought…” You trail off, eyes fixed on the table.
Marion squeezes your hands tightly. “Hey. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to.”
You smile at her, small and tired. “I know. I just… I shouldn’t have assumed. That was my mistake.”
“No,” she says firmly. “No, that’s not a mistake. Anyone would’ve thought the same. And maybe he’s just—taking his time. Planning something special.”
You nod, because it’s the kind thing to do. “Yeah. Maybe. And if not… that’s okay too.”
Marion scoffs. “Please. This is Seungmin we’re talking about. Of course he’ll propose to you. The guy practically worships you.”
You want to believe her. You do. But you don’t say anything—just press her hand, smile, and try your best not to let your heart show.
“You know what? Let's ditch the coffee,” Marion says as she gestures the nearest waiter hanging around the table. “Let's order sweet cocktails with the umbrellas.”
-
You come home with your arms full of shopping bags and a headache that the brunch cocktails didn’t manage to blur out. Your shoes click softly against the floor as you step inside the apartment, eyes briefly flicking toward the living room where Seungmin’s seated cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, the screen flashing with bright movement from whatever game he’s playing.
Glancing over his shoulder with a grin, he calls out, “Did you buy the entire mall?”
You don’t answer. Not even a smile. You head straight to the bedroom. The bags thump softly as you drop them near the closet, shedding your jacket and slipping off your shoes like they suddenly weigh too much. You feel too tired to process your thoughts—your conversation with Marion still ringing in your ears, the ring still nowhere in sight, your emotions swinging too close to the edge.
A few moments later, you hear Seungmin’s footsteps approaching. He leans against the doorframe for a beat, watching you, then steps into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. He peeks into one of the bags like a curious cat. “So… how was brunch? Did you have fun?”
“Mm-hmm,” you reply, voice flat as you pull your sweater over your head and toss it aside. “It was fine.”
Seungmin hums, clearly sensing something but not pressing—yet. He reaches into one of the shopping bags and pulls out a folded piece of delicate fabric. “Ooh,” he says, lifting the silky nightdress with a playful raise of his eyebrows. “Nice pick. Are you wearing this tonight?”
You manage a soft chuckle and shake your head. “Maybe.” You take it gently from his hands and tuck it back into the bag.
Seungmin watches you for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Did something happen?”
“Nothing,” you lie, forcing a thin smile.
But he’s already moving. He reaches for your wrist just as you bend to lift the shopping bags again, tugging you gently toward him. The bags slip from your fingers and land on the floor with a soft thud as he pulls you into his lap.
Seungmin wraps his arms around you as if you’re something precious and fragile, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks again, voice low, gentle.
You hesitate because a part of you want to say it. You want to ask about the ring, the night that didn’t go how you expected. But the fear of sounding demanding coils around your throat like a knot. So instead, you ask the one question that’s been sitting quietly in your heart: “Do you love me?”
Seungmin blinks, startled. And then, with a teasing smile, “You bought all this and none of it is for me? My love just dropped a point.”
You smack his chest—not hard, but enough to make your point. “Be serious,” you whine, your voice tight and unexpectedly shaky. “Please.”
His expression softens immediately. “Hey, hey…” he pats your head, chuckling lightly. “Who are you and what did you do to my girlfriend?”
You smack his chest again, harder this time.
He yelps, but a smile still tugs at his lips. Then, gently cupping your face in both hands, he studies you closely. “You’re not acting like you. You’re usually the one giving me affirmations in the middle of the day. What’s going on?”
You look at him and almost say it. But instead, you shake your head and murmur, “Just answer the question.”
He exhales and smiles at you. The kind of smile that makes everything feel okay for a second. His eyes never leave yours. “Of course I love you,” he says quietly, sincerely. “You know I do.”
And then he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he repeats, like a promise.
You can feel how much he means it. In the way he holds you. The way your heart stutters just hearing the words from his mouth. But before you can melt completely, he pulls back just enough to flash a cheeky smile. “I’ll love you more if you put on that silk dress, though.”
You swat his shoulder—aiming for it, at least—but your hand lands on his jaw instead. He yelps again, a hand flying up to cradle it. “Ow! That hurts!”
“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss the spot. “It didn’t even hurt.”
“It did, actually,” he pouts dramatically, but he holds your waist tighter, tilting his head slightly to give you better access as your lips trail a few more apologetic kisses along his jaw. Then, gently, your lips find his again. This time, slower. Sweeter.
After everything, this is what you needed. His arms. His quiet, unshakable love. You pull away just enough to look into his eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, this time with everything in you.
Seungmin’s smile is soft and full of warmth. Then he presses his forehead to yours. “I know,” he murmurs.
In that moment, it really is enough. Even if your heart still carries a tiny, unspoken ache.
-
Later that night, you’re wrapped in the familiar quiet of your bedroom, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely audible under the weight of your slow breathing. Seungmin lies behind you, one arm slung lazily around your waist, his fingers tracing light shapes over the silk fabric of your nightdress—the one you didn’t plan on wearing tonight but somehow ended up in anyway. You shift slightly, pressing your back closer to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your shoulder.
He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “Comfortable?”
You hum your answer, your eyes fluttering shut. “Mhm. Yeah.”
He chuckles softly, the sound warm against your skin. “Guess I’ll have to ruin that.”
His hand slides along your waist, slow and teasing, until it finds your bare thigh peeking through the slit of your nightdress. He palms the skin there gently, his touch both grounding and electrifying. You turn slightly toward him, enough to meet his gaze in the soft light of the bedside lamp.
There’s something about the way he’s looking at you like you’re something to be cherished and devoured all at once. You lean in, brushing your lips over his, and he doesn’t hesitate to respond. The kiss deepens easily, naturally, as if the day hadn’t worn on you at all. His fingers curl around your hip, guiding you closer, pulling you into his space until you’re tangled together, mouths moving in sync, breathes shared and stolen between kisses.
The silk of your nightdress shifts under his touch, soft fabric slipping aside as his hands roam with purpose, memorizing the curves he already knows by heart. You gasp softly against his lips when his thigh presses between yours, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt, tugging at it with unspoken need.
“You're so hot. How can I not love you?” he whispers, just barely, his voice thick and quiet.
You breathlessly giggle as you're threading your fingers through his hair as he begins to kiss lower, trailing heat down the curve of your throat and over your collarbone. And in the stillness of your shared space, with limbs entwined and hearts laid bare, you let go of everything else. Because in this moment, it’s only him. Only you. Only love.
The room is quiet except for the soft rustle of sheets and the shared breaths between your lips as your mouths meet again, slow and deep and unhurried. Seungmin propped on one elbow as he's leaning over you with that familiar half-smile playing at his lips—the one that always makes your chest ache in the best way. His hand roams beneath the silk nightdress, slow and deliberate, brushing over your waist, your hip, until it finds its way between your thighs.
You suck in a sharp breath against his mouth as his fingers move lower, his touch gentle but firm, and entirely sure of you.
“Still comfortable?” he murmurs, the words laced with teasing as he palms your clothed sex, his thumb easily tracing your bundle of nerves through the flimsy fabric.
You nod, breathless, your fingers gripping his bicep beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Too comfortable,” you whisper, echoing his earlier words with a shaky laugh.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower still. His fingers never stop moving against the dampness forming on your underwear, his touch slow and coaxing, driving you quietly out of your mind. He knows your body—knows how to build you up with the softest strokes, how to make your toes curl and your breath catch without a single word.
Your body arches slightly, your head falling back against the pillow as he whispers something against your skin—words that are low and loving, and just a little cocky.
You barely register them because all you know is the warmth curling low in your stomach, the way he’s making you unravel piece by piece while holding you so close, as if you might disappear if he didn’t.
Seungmin continues his exploration, fingers circling on your clit—slow and steady—until you’re clutching the sheets and gasping his name like it’s the only word you remember.
Your breath is uneven, your cheek resting against the pillow as your body melts into the mattress. You feel Seungmin’s weight shift beside you, then the soft press of his lips against your shoulder.
He trails more kisses along your skin, slow and unhurried, until he’s hovering above you, his chest brushing against your back, warm and solid. One of his hands remains on your heating wetness, still touching you, fingers moving with knowing precision, making you shiver despite the heat of his body. “You’re not tired yet, are you?” he murmurs against your neck, the smile in his voice unmistakable.
You let out a quiet laugh, breathless. “Should I be?”
Instead of answering, he presses a slow kiss to the base of your neck, his hand moving just a little firmer now, drawing another soft sound from your throat. Then you feel his hips settling closer, the subtle grind of him against you, the heat of his arousal unmistakable even through the layers of fabric still between you.
He doesn’t say anything, just breathes against your skin, letting his body do the talking. The slow, steady roll of his hips, the way he fits against you, the heat, the hardness. You squirm beneath him, not to escape but to tease back, and he groans low in his throat—a sound that sinks into your bones.
“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, voice rough now, his hand still moving, coaxing every bit of response from you as his hips grind against you again, slower this time, deliberate.
You tilt your head slightly to the side, glancing at him from over your shoulder, your lips parted, your body flushed and pliant beneath his. He meets your eyes and there's no more teasing in his expression. Only want. Only love. And the soft weight of him above you feels like the safest place in the world.
You hum softly as Seungmin’s lips continue their gentle exploration of your shoulder and neck, each kiss fluttering against your skin like a secret. His hand never leaves your body, drifting across your stomach before inching lower again. Then, with a breathy chuckle against your ear, he murmurs, “I take it back.”
You smile, eyes still closed. “Take what back?”
“This nightdress,” he says, his voice low and teasing as his fingers slip beneath the hem and slowly tug it upward. “I hate it.”
A laugh bubbles from your throat, soft and breathless, as he continues, “Hate it so much.”
The fabric slides higher as his hands move with purpose, and you oblige with a grin, pushing yourself up slightly so your back meets his chest. You tilt your head against his shoulder, lifting your arms in silent invitation. He takes the cue without hesitation, sliding the dress up and over, tossing it somewhere off the bed without even looking.
Warm hands return to your bare skin immediately, greedy and reverent. He touches you like he’s missed you—even though you’ve been right here the entire time. Fingers trace every familiar curve, rediscovering you with a tenderness that contradicts the hunger simmering in his breath.
His hands come to rest on your chest, cupping your breasts in his hands with gentle insistence, his palms hot against your skin. You gasp as his thumbs brush softly over your sensitive nipples, and your body melts further into his. He leans in, mouth seeking the spot just below your jawline, where he nips and sucks, leaving behind the echo of his affection in the form of wet heat and marks.
You feel boneless in his arms, pliant and undone, every breath you take shivering out of you as he holds you like something he never plans to let go of.
He groans softly against your neck, his hands never still. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
But you do. You feel it in every kiss. Every touch. And as you press your hand over his where it rests on your chest, you whisper back, “I think I do.”
With that, you lower yourself onto the bed, the sheets cool against your warmed skin as Seungmin’s hands glide down your sides slowly, reverently. His fingers catch the edge of your underwear, and in one fluid motion, he eases it down and off, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.
He shifts above you, mouth returning to the soft skin of your neck, where he plants teasing kisses and playful nibbles. You giggle when his breath tickles your ear, your shoulder curling slightly as you squirm beneath him, not from discomfort but anticipation.
“Seungmin...” you whisper out of want, need.
His response is another kiss—this one pressed just below your ear—and then he begins to trail down your spine, every slow kiss leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. When he reaches the curve of your back, his hands settle on your hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles before sliding lower.
You feel him—hot and hard—pressed against your wet cunt, not quite pushing forward, just teasing. Testing. His grip tightens ever so slightly, and you gasp when he slips his cock in between and rubbing it against your wetness, giving just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to satisfy.
“Seungmin,” you whisper, breath trembling. “Please…”
His chuckle is low and indulgent as he leans in, mouth brushing over your ear again. “So needy for me,” he murmurs, almost amused. “How can I not love you?”
And finally, finally, he gives in. He pushes his cock inside you slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving to where his length disappearing into you, savoring the way you take him inch by inch. The breath you release is a stuttering moan, muffled into the pillow beneath you, your hands clutching the sheets as your body adjusts to him.
It stays like that for a moment and when Seungmin deems you're ready for more, he begins moving with the kind of rhythm that feels both intentional and instinctive like he knows your body as well as his own, knows every subtle shift in your breath and how to pull the sweetest sounds from your lips.
Your fingers twist into the sheets, your skin tingling with every deep thrust, and when you turn your head to look at him, he meets your gaze—his dark eyes full of heat and tenderness. That look alone nearly undoes you.
“Seungmin, baby, you feel so good inside me...” you mewl as you look at him with half-lidded eyes.
Without needing to hear it, he can tell just from reading the expression on your face, the way your body arches into his, how your voice catches every time he hits that perfect spot. And he responds the way only he can—his pace changing without warning, suddenly fast, then slowing again just enough to tease, to keep you on edge, to build that need higher. He’s loving you like it’s everything he knows how to do—with devotion in every movement, and passion in every kiss he leaves along your skin.
By the time he finds that final rhythm—deep, fast, overwhelming—you’re a breathless mess beneath him, your moans spilling out freely, loud and broken, as the bed rocks beneath the intensity of it all. You don’t even care anymore if the neighbors hear. He’s lost in it too, letting out low, desperate sounds against your skin, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.
When the wave crashes, it takes both of you with it.
Seungmin buries himself deep one last time before letting go, his body trembling slightly as he spills his seed inside you, collapsing against your back as the weight of his pleasure and exhaustion hits him all at once. His chest heaves against you, damp skin pressed to yours, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets.
You turn your head just enough to find him, to brush your lips to his. He kisses you back slowly, softly, like he’s still catching his breath. And then, in the quiet that follows, you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”
He doesn’t need to say it back right away—you can feel it in the way he kisses you again, in the way he shifts just enough to hold you better, closer. But then, you hear it anyway—soft and sincere, right against your temple. “I love you so much.”
And in that moment, with your bodies tangled and your hearts bare, it’s all you need.
-
The kitchen is a delightful mess—flour dusted across the countertops, chocolate smudged on your wrist, and a mixing bowl dangerously close to tipping off the edge of the sink. You and Marion are both slightly tipsy, giggling over a cocktail shaker that’s lost its lid mid-shake and sent droplets of raspberry gin fizz onto the cabinets.
“Are we even doing this right?” Marion asks, peering into the brownie batter as you try to fold in the chocolate chunks without splashing anything else.
You shrug, your cheeks flushed from laughter and the alcohol. “I mean, if the batter tastes this good, the final result can’t be that bad.”
Marion dips a spoon in and tastes it with a dramatic moan. “Yeah, you’re right.”
You’re both laughing again, this time harder, and she almost knocks over the tray as you slide it into the oven. You set a timer, then lean against the counter, clinking your glass gently with hers.
“To very serious bakers,” you toast.
“And to very responsible drinking,” she adds with a wink.
Once you both settle on the floor with a throw pillow each, the buzz mellowing into that warm, glowy feeling, Marion sighs and rests her head back against the cupboard. “I can’t believe I’m getting married.”
You glance over and smile. “I can. You and Leo are disgustingly perfect.”
She snorts. “We’re just… learning. Growing. Like… I don’t know, good wine or something.” Then she quiets for a second, her voice softening. “I didn’t think I’d feel like this. All the clichés? They’re real. I’ll see him in the kitchen making coffee and suddenly I’m like, ‘God, I want to spend the rest of my life watching this man make terrible pour-overs.’”
Your laugh is soft this time, fond. “I’m really happy for you, Mar.”
She turns to you, eyes shining a little. “And I’m so happy you’re my maid of honor.”
Your chest warms at the words. “I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever. Just watch.”
She grins wide. “And threaten Leo with bodily harm if he ever makes me cry.”
You toast your nearly empty glass with hers again. “That’s a given.”
There’s a pause, a comfortable one, and then Marion leans her head gently against your shoulder. “You’ll be next,” she murmurs.
You don’t say anything right away. Just smile and keep looking at the oven, the faint ticking of the timer filling the silence. You don’t need to answer—not tonight.
Once brownies has cooled down, you take the first bite of the brownie and blink in disbelief. “Wait… why is this actually good?”
Marion’s eyes widen as she chews her own piece. “Did we accidentally summon domestic goddess energy?”
You both laugh, mouths full of gooey chocolate, your cocktail glasses sitting mostly forgotten on the coffee table. The brownies have that perfect crispy edge with a soft, fudge-like center, and it feels like an accomplishment far beyond its baking difficulty—maybe because it’s wrapped in the comfort of laughter, drinks, and easy friendship.
But as the minutes pass and Marion continues sipping, then pouring a little too enthusiastically, it becomes clear that your best friend is crossing the line from tipsy to gone. Her cheeks are flushed, her head wobbles when she moves, and she’s singing along to a song playing from her phone in a voice so off-key, it’s almost impressive.
You, a little lightheaded yourself, shake your head with a smile. “Marion,” you say gently, nudging her. “It’s not even ten-thirty.”
“I’m great,” she declares, wobbling as she tries to stand. “I feel like I could plan a wedding and solve world peace right now.”
“Mhm,” you mutter, looping an arm around her shoulders when she stumbles again. “Let’s aim for just making it to your bedroom without breaking anything.”
She slumps into you, leaning heavily as you walk her slowly down the hall. “You know what we should do?” she says, her words slurring slightly. “We should totally get pregnant together.”
You pause mid-step. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah,” she continues dreamily. “Me and you. Pregnant together. Baby bumps and morning sickness and matching diaper bags. Our babies can have playdates and grow up to be best friends like us.”
You snort, half laughing, half trying not to tip over. “That’s a very... ambitious plan.”
Marion nods solemnly. “Synchronize our cycles. Manifest the future.”
“Okay, Drunk Oracle,” you say, trying not to laugh too hard. “Let’s just start with you getting to the bed.”
You manage to get her onto the mattress in one final push. She immediately curls up into a fetal position, already half-asleep. You pull the duvet over her gently and take a moment to look at her soft, peaceful expression—marriage-bound, impossibly hopeful, and dreaming of coordinated pregnancies and pastel nursery paint.
You reach out to brush a bit of hair from her face and sigh, not entirely sure what to feel. The air is still warm with laughter, but there's a quiet twinge in your chest. You flick off the bedside lamp, casting the room in darkness, and close the door behind you.
With Marion already tucked into bed, you're left with the cleaning task to yourself. You sigh before moving around Marion’s kitchen, cleaning up the mess the two of you made earlier. There’s flour dusted across the counter like a fine layer of snow, smears of chocolate batter dried onto the mixing bowl, and spatulas sitting lazily in the sink. It’s quiet now without Marion’s laughter or the clinking of glasses, and the silence presses in gently, nudging you into your thoughts.
As you rinse the dishes one by one, Marion’s drunken rambling echoes in your head like background music. “You’ll be next. Let’s plan our pregnancies together. Baby playdates. Matching diaper bags.”
You shake your head with a smile, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips. She was drunk. But even so… the picture forms easily in your mind. You and Seungmin. A modest house filled with warmth. Little footsteps running down the hallway. A baby with Seungmin’s eyes and pout. Him in sweats with a sleepy toddler cradled on his chest, the glow of Sunday morning light filtering through the windows. It makes your chest flutter in the softest way.
You’re still standing at the sink, sponge in hand, when the sound of the front door clicks open, shattering your daydream. The soft thud of keys hitting the entry table follows, and then the familiar voice.
“Hey,” Leo says gently as he steps into the kitchen and sees you. “You’re still here.”
You turn and offer a small smile. “Just waiting for my taxi. Didn’t want to leave a crime scene behind.”
He glances toward the living room, then toward the hallway. “She’s out, huh?”
“Out cold,” you confirm with a chuckle. “Didn’t even make it to 10:30.”
Leo laughs under his breath and grabs a glass from the shelf. “That sounds about right.”
You start drying your hands as he fills his glass with water. There’s a beat of comfortable silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the soft rush of water from the tap.
“You can hang out for a bit,” Leo says, taking a sip. “Seungmin would kill me if I let you leave without making sure you got in your ride safely.”
That makes you chuckle. “Sounds like him.”
Leo leans against the counter and tilts his head slightly. “You know… I always thought Seungmin would do it first.”
“Do what first?”
He raises a brow, like it’s obvious. “Propose.”
The word hits you with a weight you didn’t expect, but you try to keep your expression casual. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Leo nods. “I mean—funny story actually. The day I bought the ring for Marion? I ran into him at the jewelry store.”
You look up sharply. “You did?”
“Yup,” he says, smiling at the memory. “I asked what he was doing there and he said—” Leo lifts a hand to mimic air quotes, “—‘just returning something.’ Total deadpan. Didn’t even blink.”
You force a small laugh. “Also sounds like him.”
Leo shrugs, grinning. “But knowing Seungmin? I think he just didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I mean, guy’s got a poker face made of steel.”
You nod slowly, but your heart sinks just a little deeper than before. Because now you're not so sure. Was it really a lie to keep a surprise? Or… was it the truth?
You swallow hard, trying to keep your expression smooth as you offer him a polite smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”
But your chest is heavy again, and as you glance at your phone to check the time, you wish more than anything that you hadn’t opened that damn linen closet at all.
-
You fasten the clasp of your earrings as you glance at yourself in the mirror, the morning light slipping through the blinds and catching on the satin fabric of your dress. Marion texted you twenty minutes ago with three exclamation points and an “ARE YOU READY YET” that you haven’t had the heart to respond to. You’re not late—just… taking your time.
Because when you're alone like this, brushing on a little blush and slipping into heels, your thoughts begin to loop again. About the ring. About that empty space in the linen closet. About what Leo said.
He said he was just returning something. But… what if he really was?
It’s been days, and still nothing. No big gestures. No changes in the way Seungmin acts. And you're trying not to let it eat you alive.
You're meant to be excited for Marion today—maid of honor, dress shopping, champagne flutes and dramatic tears—but your head’s a noisy place. You're halfway through slipping into your dress when the bedroom door creaks open.
“Need help?” Seungmin asks from behind, already closing the distance.
You nod, standing still as he gently gathers the zipper at the small of your back. His fingers are warm, smooth, careful. The sound of the zipper sliding up echoes too loud in the quiet room. Once it’s zipped, his arms immediately slip around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder and lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Marion’s stealing you for the whole weekend now, huh?”
You smile faintly at his reflection in the mirror. “Well, I am her maid of honor. This is part of the job.”
He pouts against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be so busy helping her plan stuff. I’ll barely see you.”
You tilt your head, amused. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Doesn’t that just mean no one’s interrupting your video game marathons?”
He frowns like you just offended him. “That’s not the point. I want to play with you too.”
You turn in his hold, facing him, his hands still warm on your waist. For a fleeting second, you want to ask about it. About the ring. About Leo. About the jewelry store. Instead, you lift a hand to cup his jaw, tracing your thumb gently along the curve of it. His skin is soft from shaving, and his eyes are impossibly warm.
You softly kiss him, lingering just enough to let him know you mean it. When you pull back, your hand stays on his cheek as you smile faintly. “Don’t wait up. I’ll probably be out all day.”
Seungmin sighs and lets his forehead bump gently against yours. “I hate it.”
You giggle and break away, reaching for your shoes. “Behave.”
“You behave,” he mutters, clearly not letting go of the pout.
You lean in for one last kiss as you sling your bag over your shoulder and glance at him one more time—and there’s that stupidly cute smile. The one that crinkles his eyes and shows off the dimple in his cheek. The one that made you fall in love with him years ago.
“Have fun,” he says, still holding your hand as you reach for the door.
You smile at him over your shoulder and realize that is why you can never stay mad at him.
-
The second you and Marion step into the bridal shop, you both instantly enveloped in a world of white and ivory and shimmer. The space smells faintly like fresh flowers and lavender. Soft piano music floats in the background, almost drowned by Marion’s giddy gasp as she takes it all in.
Rows of gowns hang like clouds on gold racks, each dress more breathtaking than the last. You follow Marion as she practically skips ahead, already flipping through lace, satin, and embroidered tulle. “This one has your name written all over it,” you say, gently tugging out a sweetheart neckline dress with hand-sewn appliqué.
She lets out a squeal, taking it from you like it’s made of spun sugar. As she continues browsing, her eyes alight with excitement, your mind drifts. You glance around at the other brides-to-be in the boutique—smiling, glowing, radiant in anticipation. However, when you try to ignore it, you feel that sting again. You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten until Marion turns to look at you.
“Hey,” she says softly, as if reading your thoughts. “You okay?”
You give a small nod. Then you sigh and admit, “Leo said something… the other night.”
Marion raises a brow. “Uh-oh.”
So you tell her everything. About Leo bumping into Seungmin at the jewelry store. About how Seungmin said he was ‘just returning something’. About how it’s been swirling in your head ever since. “I keep thinking… maybe he had a change of heart,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe he bought the ring and then changed his mind.”
Marion stares at you for a moment, then she blinks and waves a dismissive hand like she's physically swatting the idea away. “Nope. Not buying that. That man is obsessed with you. I see the way he looks at you like he wants to give you the world.”
You let out a quiet laugh at that, but it's tight.
Marion gently bumps her shoulder into yours. “He probably lied because he’s trying to keep it a surprise. He’s meticulous like that. You know he is.”
“I know,” you murmur. “But I’ve just been overthinking everything. And the longer nothing happens, the more I can’t stop wondering.”
Marion gives you a knowing look, then turns toward the bridal shop staff and says brightly, “I think I’m ready to start trying some dresses on!”
One of the attendants smiles and gestures for her to follow. Marion turns back to you, squeezing your hand before heading off. “Stop spiraling. I’m telling you—it’s coming. Just breathe.”
As Marion disappears into the fitting area, you remain in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by future promises sewn into fabric. Trying to believe that maybe yours is just still in progress.
The buzz of the boutique continues around you. You sit quietly on the velvet cushioned bench, hands resting on your lap as you wait. You’re surrounded by joy, by promise, and still, your mind refuses to settle.
A staff member approaches you with a delicate smile, holding a silver tray with two tall champagne flutes. You take one and thank her, nodding politely as she walks away. You bring the glass to your lips, the bubbly drink cool and crisp on your tongue. You hope it’ll ease the tangle of thoughts knotting in your head but it doesn’t.
You’re halfway through the flute when the curtain rustles, and Marion steps out in her first wedding dress. You gasp despite yourself. She looks ethereal—floating in a sleek A-line gown with embroidered floral details and a delicate train behind her. The sweetheart neckline frames her perfectly, and the way she smiles makes it glow even more.
“Oh my god, babe,” you breathe. “You look… breathtaking.”
Marion beams at your reaction, spinning slowly for you to take it all in. “Right? I didn’t think I’d love this one, but wow—this might be it!”
You try your best to focus, offering compliments, suggestions, small smiles, but your energy is off and you know it.
She disappears again into the fitting room, and one dress after another, she keeps emerging in tulle, lace, satin, sleeves, no sleeves—and all you can manage are soft nods and faint hums of approval. You’re trying. You really are. But your smile slips too easily, your thoughts keep drifting.
When she comes out in a fitted mermaid gown with a dramatic low back and doesn't hear the familiar excited gasp from you, she places a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes. “Okay. That’s it.”
You glance up at her. “Wha—”
“Get out of your head,” Marion says with a gentle firmness only a best friend could manage. “This is my wedding dress moment. I need you here, babe. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually. All of it.”
Your heart drops a little at her words, not because she’s wrong, but because she’s right. And the last thing you want is to take this moment away from her.
You set your glass down and stand, walking over to her, guilt clouding your expression. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’m really sorry, Marion. I want to be here for you—I am here for you—I just…”
Instead of her usual understanding nod or the warm squeeze of reassurance, Marion stares at you. Her eyes linger for a beat too long, her lips pressed into a flat line. You expect her to soften, to offer one of her teasing but gentle replies.
This time, she lets out a short, sharp laugh, void of humor. “You know what?” she says, voice low but cutting. “Maybe Seungmin did change his mind. And honestly? I wouldn’t blame him.”
You freeze. “What?”
She crosses her arms, still standing in her wedding gown. “This was supposed to be my day. One day. One moment. And somehow, you’ve still managed to make it about you.”
“Marion…” you mutter so low it's almost a whisper.
She cuts you off, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “All week, you’ve been moping, overthinking, spiraling—and I get it, I do, but today is about me. And instead of showing up like my best friend, like my maid of honor, you’re just… wallowing. In something that hasn’t even happened.”
Her words land like stones. Heavy. Sharp. And maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s the part of you that’s still wounded from your own disappointment, but your chest tightens.
You pick up your purse, slowly, trying to keep your face blank, even though it’s already twisting. “Okay,” you say quietly. “I get it.”
“Wait—” Marion starts, her tone flickering with regret already, but it’s too late.
You sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder, blink back the sting in your eyes, and walk right past the mirror-lined walls, the racks of white lace and silk, the staff who glance up with startled looks. You don’t stop until you’re out of the boutique and the glass door swings shut behind you.
You step out onto the sidewalk, the air kissing your flushed skin, and only then do you let yourself exhale. Because you didn’t expect the hurt to come from her. Not today. Not like this.
-
When you step into the apartment, Seungmin looks up from the couch with that familiar glint in his eyes, already ready to tease. “Back already?” he says, setting down his phone. “Did you miss me that much?”
You walk right past him, brushing his shoulder lightly, without a word. Your heels click softly against the floor until you reach the bedroom. The purse slips from your fingers and lands on the floor with a soft thud, and you follow it, collapsing face-first onto the bed. The tears come almost instantly, soaking into the pillow before you even have the chance to catch your breath.
A few seconds later, you hear the sound of footsteps, the creak of the door, and then the bed shifts under Seungmin’s weight as he climbs in beside you.
“Hey,” he says, gently. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You don’t answer. You just keep crying, your chest rising and falling with quiet, shuddering sobs.
Seungmin shifts closer, concern painting every inch of his voice now. “Are you hurt? Did someone—did someone say something to you?” He brushes your hair back, his fingertips feather-light on your cheek, but you still don’t look at him. “Who hurt you, baby? Tell me.”
He gets it, then. Whatever this is—it’s not something you’re ready to talk about. So he doesn’t push. Instead, he slides closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. You feel his breath against your neck. He presses the softest of kisses to your shoulder, then to the side of your neck, and one more at the edge of your jaw. His hand moves slowly up and down your arm in comforting strokes, no words, just presence. Just him.
“I’m here,” he whispers eventually, voice barely audible. “Okay? I’m right here.”
And maybe that’s all you need for now. Not answers. Not promises. Just this—Seungmin’s arms holding you close as you let yourself fall apart.
By the time your tears have dried, the room is steeped in quiet. Outside the window, the sky has turned deep blue, the last of the evening light fading into night. But inside, Seungmin is still holding you just the same—arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses along the slope of your neck, the curve of your jaw, grounding you with every touch.
“Seungmin,” you croak out, voice raw from crying.
He hums in response, his hand still rubbing slow, gentle circles on your back.
You hesitate, but then ask, barely above a whisper, “Do you think I’m… a selfish person?”
Seungmin stills, then leans back enough to look at you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Why would you ask me that?”
You shift on the bed, turning to face him. He instantly loops his arms around your waist again, pulling you flush against his chest. His hand comes up to brush strands of hair away from your face, wiping at the dampness still lingering under your eyes.
You stare at him, and the words fall out of your mouth again, more fragile this time. “Do you think I’m selfish? Is that... Is that why you don’t want to marry me?”
He flinches slightly—not out of anger, but surprise and then the silence stretches a little, filled with nothing but your shaky breath.
“I found the ring,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible. “The one you hid in the linen closet. It fell when I was looking for a tablecloth.”
Realization flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. His mouth parts slightly. “Oh…” he lets out a soft gasp as it all clicks into place, and a breath escapes him in a long, quiet sigh. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
You give a faint, bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with fresh tears. “So it was for me?”
Seungmin cups your face with both hands, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks as he nods. “Yes. It was always for you.”
“Then why did you return it?” you ask softly, searching his face, trying to keep the heartbreak from bleeding through your voice. “Leo… he saw you at the store. He said you told him you were returning something.”
Seungmin lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “I didn’t return it because I changed my mind about you,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I returned it because I found a new one—a better one. One that suits you more.”
You sniffle. “You… did?”
He nods again, still gently stroking your cheek. “Yeah. That first one—it didn’t feel like you. I kept thinking about how you deserve something that really fits who you are. So I exchanged it. I wasn’t trying to lie or confuse you… I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
You fall quiet at that, your chest tightening with emotion—not from sadness, but from the weight of your own misunderstanding. You had made up so many things in your head. So many wrong assumptions.
Seungmin presses his palm to your cheek, coaxing you to look into his eyes. “You’re not selfish,” he says firmly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “A selfish person doesn’t cook me dinner even when she’s tired. She doesn’t stay up late to watch me play video games or take care of me when I’m sick. She doesn’t let me drag her to baseball games or listen to me talk about player stats for hours.”
You laugh softly, another tear slipping down your cheek.
“You’re amazing,” Seungmin whispers. “You’re strong and kind and honest. You're true to yourself. I love you for all of that.”
Then he smiles, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “If anything… I’m the selfish one.”
You frown in confusion. “Why would you say that?”
He leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Because I want all your love just for me. All of it. Every day. Forever.”
A fresh wave of tears rushes into your eyes, but this time, they’re light and full of warmth. You bury your face in his chest again, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you start crying again—but now, you’re smiling too.
Seungmin kisses the top of your head, his hand slipping into your hair. “You just ruined my proposal plans, by the way,” he mutters playfully. “Guess I’ll have to come up with a new one.”
Despite the storm of emotions, you laugh into his chest, muffled and breathless. “Sorry…”
He chuckles softly. “Not really, though.”
You tilt your head up, looking into his eyes. Everything you need to know is there, written so clearly in the way he looks at you. With love. With certainty.
And when he leans in to kiss you, it’s slow and deep, a promise in itself. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.
And in a voice full of all the love you’ve ever felt, you whisper back, “I love you too.”
And that—more than a ring, more than a proposal—is everything.
-
The next morning unfolds slowly, gently—sunlight spilling through the windows, warming the kitchen tiles beneath your feet. There’s music playing softly from your phone, and you’re still in Seungmin’s oversized shirt, sleeves rolled clumsily up your arms, your hair slightly messy from sleep.
Seungmin is beside you, flipping pancakes with exaggerated concentration, while you stir scrambled eggs in the pan next to him. His arm brushes yours every few seconds. You both steal kisses in between chores—on his cheek, on your temple, on the side of your neck—sometimes just for fun, sometimes just because you can. He reaches over your shoulder to grab the pepper and presses a kiss behind your ear on the way, making you giggle and squirm.
There’s a lightness in your chest this morning, a clarity you haven’t felt in days. Because now you know, he’s not going anywhere. He’s here. With you. Choosing you every day.
As you both set the plates onto the table, getting ready to finally eat, the doorbell rings. You pause, glancing at Seungmin. He lifts an eyebrow at you, mouth already full of a bite of pancake. “Who is that?” he says with his mouth full.
You shrug and wipe your hands on a kitchen towel as you pad to the door. When you open it, Marion is standing there. She looks… uncertain. Hesitant. But when her eyes meet yours, she smiles softly and lets out a breath. “Hey.”
You blink in surprise, then give her a faint smile. “Hey.”
Marion hesitates, fidgeting with her hands. “I just—” she sighs. “I’m sorry. For what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”
You stay quiet, letting the weight of her words hang in the air for a beat.
“I was overwhelmed with everything,” she continues, “and I didn’t know I was holding all that tension until it snapped. But that’s no excuse. I was wrong. And I’m really, really sorry.”
You look at her and, in her eyes, you see nothing but sincerity. And maybe just the tiniest bit of shame. But your heart is already softened. You’ve cried enough. You’ve carried enough weight. And you don’t want to carry bitterness too.
A small smile curves on your lips. “It’s okay, Mar. It's all water under the bridge.”
Marion's shoulders drop in relief and a big, bright grin takes over her face. She rushes toward you, throwing her arms around you.
You hug her back tightly, burying your face into her shoulder, holding on for just a second longer than necessary. When you pull away, still smiling, you grab her hand and tug her inside. “Come in. Join us for breakfast.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” you say, already leading her toward the kitchen. “We made pancakes.”
“Say no more,” she grins. “I’m in.”
Seungmin looks up from the table as you both enter, and he offers Marion a nod of greeting. “Hey,” he says casually. “Hope you like slightly burnt pancakes.”
Marion laughs as she sits down. “I like everything when it’s free.”
The three of you settle around the table, warm plates in front of you, coffee cups steaming gently between sips and bites. The late morning light glows through the window, making everything feel softer, slower, sweeter.
Marion takes a sip of her coffee, hums in appreciation, then glances at Seungmin. “Okay, wait. This coffee? This is actually really good.”
Seungmin shrugs with a cocky grin. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”
You grin as you pick up your cup. “This is exactly why I want to marry him. He makes good coffee.”
Marion pauses, blinking in a half-surprised, half-delighted way as she shifts her eyes from you to Seungmin. “Wait, what?”
You glance at Seungmin, who’s already giving you a warning squint across the table. You bite back a smile and turn to Marion. “Seungmin’s going to propose soon,” you say, teasing just enough to make him squirm.
Marion gasps, all wide eyes and giddy hands clasped to her chest. “Oh? Really?!”
You laugh and quickly explain, “He already knows we found the ring in the linen closet. It wasn’t that sneaky.”
Marion immediately gasps louder, turning to Seungmin with the most wicked grin. “So you are proposing. And you’ve been dragging it out this whole time?!”
Seungmin groans and drops his fork dramatically onto his plate. “Wow. You two are literally talking about me like I’m not even here.”
“That’s because you took forever,” Marion teases, smirking.
“You know,” Seungmin points his fork at both of you, “I should’ve just proposed in secret and eloped. Peace and quiet.”
Marion leans in, nudging her elbow against yours with a conspiratorial grin. “You know what? Maybe wait until after my wedding to propose.”
Seungmin gapes. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she says, smug. “She’s my maid of honor. Which means, until my wedding’s over, she’s mine.”
“She practically owns me,” you say with a laugh.
Seungmin dramatically scoffs, “That explains so much. I always knew something was up. You’ve been using her!”
Marion flips her hair and lifts her chin proudly. “Absolutely. And I plan to keep using her until the very last hour of the reception.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes at her, then looks at you like a betrayed puppy. “Do you hear this? I’m just... background noise now. Replaced. Overtaken.”
You burst out laughing, watching the two of them bicker like siblings. “Don’t worry,” you say, reaching over to rest a hand on Seungmin’s. “You still make the best coffee.”
-
It’s a rare, golden kind of day—the one where everything falls into place. Marion’s out of town, the maid of honor duties are on pause, and for once, your calendar is blissfully empty. Seungmin had insisted that you both take advantage of it, and now here you are, walking into a crowded stadium, your hand snug in his, the warm scent of grilled food in the air, the hum of excited fans filling every inch of the space.
Seungmin’s face is practically glowing as he guides you to your seats. You barely get a chance to settle in before he excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd. When he returns a long moment later, his arms are full—two large beers and a tray of snacks balanced precariously.
You quickly reach for them, steadying the tray so nothing spills. “I don’t know how you made it through that crowd in one piece,” you say with a grin.
“I’m just that good,” he replies, settling into his seat and taking a long sip of beer. “Okay, so here’s the deal—my team’s playing their biggest rival today. It’s going to be intense. Their defense is solid, but if our pitcher holds it down, we’ve got this.”
You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him talk. He’s so passionate, so animated, and you can’t help but smile at the way his eyes light up with excitement. He catches your stare mid-sentence and falters, cheeks warming slightly before he leans over to kiss you, quick and sweet.
You laugh after taking a bite of corn dog. “I was just thinking you look cute when you get all serious about baseball.”
He tries to hide his smile behind his beer, and just as he starts talking strategy again, the jumbotron begins cycling through advertisements, then team previews, and finally, the kiss cam. You watch it playfully, giggling at the awkward and adorable kisses caught onscreen.
And all of a sudden, your face appears. You blink, mid-sip, then turn to Seungmin with a startled laugh. “Oh my god—we’re on the screen.”
He doesn’t hesitate, just leans in and kisses you, and the crowd erupts into cheers as the kiss cam switches to another couple.
Both of you break into shy laughter, your heart thudding with the strange mix of public attention and private affection. “That was embarrassing,” you murmur.
“Why? People liked it,” Seungmin says with a shrug, almost a little too casually.
You give him a suspicious look. “What do you mean ‘people liked it’?”
But before you can question further, the kiss cam cuts back to you two again.
“What? Again?” you ask, shocked, but Seungmin just chuckles and kisses you again.
The crowd cheers louder this time, and you feel your face flush. You pull away, laughing nervously. “Okay, what is happening? Why are we on again—”
Seungmin is already leaning in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours with more intention this time. The crowd roars yet again.
When the camera doesn’t move on after this one, your confusion grows. And then you notice that the words KISS CAM fade away. New words begin to scroll across the jumbotron in big white letters: WILL YOU MARRY ME?
Your brain short-circuits and when you turn to Seungmin, and he’s no longer beside you. He’s on one knee. In his hand, a velvet box—open to reveal a ring you’ve never seen before. A white gold band cradling a stunning cushion-cut diamond, surrounded by the softest halo of pink diamonds. It’s delicate and beautiful and so you. And suddenly the jumbotron, the repeated kiss cams, the look he gave you earlier—clicks into place.
Seungmin looks up at you with those warm, impossibly sincere puppy eyes. He smiles, his voice steady but soft—just for you, even though an entire stadium is listening.
“Will you marry me?”
Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by a wave of cheers and people chanting, “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”
You’re already nodding before the words come out, tears brimming in your eyes as you cover your mouth with trembling fingers. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”
Seungmin’s smile could light up the whole field. He carefully takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your finger with gentle hands. Then he stands, pulls you into his arms, and kisses you as the crowd erupts in wild applause. Fireworks explode across the jumbotron in a burst of color as congratulary words flashing on the screen as confetti cannons go off in the background and strangers all around are clapping, cheering, congratulating.
It’s loud and chaotic and perfect. And right there, in the middle of a packed stadium, you’re holding the only person in the world who matters. And he’s yours.
-
It’s just the two of you now—back in your shared space, the world quiet, and the buzz of the proposal still pulsing through your chest like a second heartbeat.
You’re in bed, wrapped around each other as if trying to make the moment last forever. You’re sitting on his lap, legs looped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair while his arms hold you tightly against him, as though letting go would break the magic.
Seungmin’s lips are on yours in slow, deep kisses that taste like champagne and forever. Your bare skin pressed against his is warm, comforting, electric. You can still feel the outline of the ring on your finger, even as you cradle his jaw between your hands and kiss him again, smiling into it.
There’s laughter between kisses—whispers of disbelief that this is real, that this is happening. That you’re engaged. And you feel it in your bones—the security, the joy, the love so big it hums through every part of you.
“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you whisper against his lips.
Seungmin chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re not the only one who knows how to keep a secret.”
You smile into the kiss, breath catching slightly when Seungmin pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze lingers, soft and glowing with something deep and unshakable. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he murmurs, like it’s a secret just for you.
Your heart flutters, and the smile blooming on your face feels unstoppable, too wide to hide. You don’t want to hide it anyway—not from him. Not from this moment.
He reaches for your hand, the one now bearing the engagement ring, and lifts it gently to his lips. His kiss is reverent against the band, and somehow that small gesture makes everything even more real.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Gosh, I love you so much.”
He kisses you again, longer this time, his arms tightening around your waist. “I love you. Always.”
Slowly, you lift yourself just enough to allow you to ease yourself down onto his throbbing cock, your breath catching as your body adjusts to the closeness, the stretch, how hard he is inside you. When you fully take all of him, you hum in pleasure and press your forehead against his.
There’s no rush—just stillness and the quiet awe of feeling everything at once. His hands find your hips, grounding you, steadying the soft tremble in your breath. You stay like that for a moment—joined, wrapped up in the warmth of love and commitment and the tenderness of what comes next.
And then, as you begin to move, it’s slow and meaningful—each motion a silent vow, each look shared a quiet promise. You keep your eyes on him, letting him see everything as you make love to him with all of your heart.
Your fingers find his jaw, holding him steady beneath your gaze. “I can’t wait to be yours,” you whisper, voice breaking with emotion. “To have all of you… just for me.”
Seungmin’s thumb brushes over your hip, his breath hitching at your words. His eyes are full of love, of you.
“I already am,” he says softly. “All yours.”
-
The music begins and you take a deep breath before stepping out onto the aisle with the other bridesmaids. The soft rustle of fabric follows your steps, and though you try to keep your focus ahead, you can feel Seungmin’s gaze like a gentle tether, pulling your heart toward where he’s seated.
When you steal a glance at him, there he is. Sitting tall in his suit, his eyes never leaving you, filled with a quiet, radiant pride that sends warmth cascading through your chest. You know exactly what he's thinking because you're thinking it too. One day, it’ll be you walking down the aisle in white and he'll be waiting at the altar, just like Leo is now, with that same kind of look in his eyes. Maybe even deeper.
As Marion appears at the end of the aisle, music swelling to greet her, you look forward again. Leo's reaction is instant and visceral—his breath visibly hitching, eyes already glossy, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches her take each step closer to him. And you, watching him, can't help but imagine Seungmin looking at you like that. One day. Not far from now.
During the ceremony, with Marion’s vows still hanging delicately in the air, you glance across the crowd again. And Seungmin is already looking at you. There's something reverent in his expression, something soft and deep and full. He just mouths it like a sacred promise, “I love you.”
It takes a second to register. Your heart leaps. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You’ve heard him say it so many times, but this… this moment makes it different. It’s not just the words—it’s the truth in his eyes, the forever behind it.
You bite your lip, trying not to smile too hard or cry too openly, and you mouth it back through the flicker of your tears, “I love you.”
For a few heartbeats, time feels suspended between you. Just you and him, exchanging silent vows of your own in the middle of someone else’s wedding. And honestly, you can’t wait for your turn.
-
The music has quieted into a soft, dreamy melody. The dance floor is mostly empty now, save for a few lingering couples swaying gently under the glow of string lights and the night sky is dotted with stars. You and Seungmin sit side by side at your table, shoes off, champagne flutes in hand. The bubbly has long gone lukewarm, but neither of you minds. It’s not about the drink—it’s about the moment.
You glance over at him. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm draped behind your chair. There’s something so comfortably tender about him like this.
Then come Marion and Leo, walking hand in hand like they haven't been married for just a few hours but for lifetimes already. Marion doesn’t hesitate to plop down in the chair next to you, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she kicks off her heels with zero ceremony. She props her feet up on Leo’s lap, and he takes them in stride, starting to massage them as though it's the most natural thing in the world.
"God, I’m exhausted," Marion groans, leaning back and resting her head on the edge of your chair. "But worth it. You," she says, turning her head toward you, eyes half-lidded and full of gratitude, "are a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Best maid of honor award? Goes to you, obviously."
You laugh, cheeks warm from the champagne—or maybe from the pride blooming quietly in your chest. “I’ll take that,” you say with a grin, raising your glass.
Marion raises hers too, clinking it softly with yours. Then she turns to Seungmin, her gaze suddenly mischievous. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Hurry up with the wedding. She and I have already decided we’re getting pregnant together, so our kids can have playdates and matching Halloween costumes and trauma-bond over how annoying their moms are.”
Seungmin raises his eyebrows, slowly turning to look at you with an exaggerated expression of mock-betrayal. “You’re making pregnancy pacts now?”
You snort into your champagne, nearly choking. “Apparently.”
“She’s already picked out names,” Marion adds matter-of-factly.
“I am petrified,” Seungmin deadpans, but there's a glimmer of laughter in his eyes as he leans closer to you, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I marry you and I get Marion in the package too?”
“It's a buy one, get one,” you say, grinning.
“You’re welcome,” Marion adds.
Leo just chuckles, his fingers still kneading gently into her tired feet. “You’re all insane,” he mutters fondly.
But as the music fades out and the final notes echo across the quieted venue, Seungmin turns to you, his hand brushing over your knee, thumb circling gently. You catch the way he looks at you in that moment—something quiet and sure. Like he already sees that future Marion joked about, and maybe it doesn’t seem so far away anymore.
-
With your maid of honor duty is officially come to an end, you and Seungmin walk hand-in-hand back to your hotel room. Your heels dangle from your other hand, your makeup slightly smudged from the long day, but there's a glow to your skin that has nothing to do with highlighter. It’s been a full day of laughter, vows, dancing, tears and now, just the two of you, the quiet is welcome.
Seungmin swings your hands a little between you. “So…” he begins casually, but there’s a glint of curiosity in his voice. “About what Marion said earlier.”
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Which part?”
“The part where she said you two are planning on getting pregnant together.” He looks at you like he's testing the waters, but his voice is half-serious.
You burst out laughing. “Please tell me you didn’t take that seriously. Marion was drunk on love and cake.”
Seungmin stops walking, tugging your hand gently so you turn to face him. His expression is still light, but there's something sincere underneath it. “But what if I did take it seriously?” he asks. “What if I actually… want to talk about it?”
You stare at him, caught off guard, your heart tripping in your chest as the mood subtly shifts.
“Like… how many kids do you want?” he asks again, quieter this time.
Your lips part in surprise before you lean into playfulness to mask the sudden emotion curling in your chest. “I don’t know,” you say, squinting at him. “Do I want little Seungmin running around?”
His mouth drops open in mock offense. “Excuse you? Little Seungmins would be adorable.”
“One Seungmin is already a headache,” you tease, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I can handle another one who hogs the blanket and never loads the dishwasher correctly.”
He gasps, affronted. “First of all, I do load the dishwasher correctly. My method is called organized chaos. And second,” he says, stepping closer, slipping his arms around your waist, “I don’t care how many kids we have—one or five—but we should definitely start working on making little Seungmin now.”
Your eyes widen. “Seungmin—!”
But before you can finish, he scoops you up into his arms in one smooth motion, carrying you bridal style down the rest of the hallway.
You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck, laughter spilling out of you as he walks with a cocky grin on his face, clearly enjoying himself. “Put me down!” you whisper-shout, still giggling.
“Too late. You’ve offended me. You must now suffer,” he says dramatically, nudging the hotel room door open with his foot after expertly swiping the key card.
“And what exactly is my punishment?”
He gives you a look that’s half mischief, half promise. “Let’s just say… we’ll see how you feel about little Seungmins after tonight.”
And as the city lights dimmed beyond the hotel windows and the world quieted into the hush of midnight, you found yourself curled against Seungmin’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your spine.
In that moment, you find a clarity that everything you once feared or doubted had led you here. Not just to a proposal, or a ring, or a kiss under stadium lights, but to something greater: a life built hand in hand, with love that stayed steady through uncertainty, with a future you no longer needed to imagine, because it was already unfolding—right here, beside him.
-
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⋆｡°✩ paring: non-idol bang chan x original character
⋆｡°✩ synopsis: han areum was raised to be perfect—future heiress, model daughter, untouched by scandal. but beneath the surface, she hides a secret that makes her heart race at the thought. her life is flipped upside down when she meets a mysterious man, and their bond is only forced closer as time ages. but somewhere in between the confusion and the lies, things start to feel dangerously real.
⋆｡°✩ warnings: smut, graphic depiction of sexual act, profanity, alcohol consumption, sex talk/jokes, suggestive
⋆｡°✩ genre: romance, angst, fluff, arranged marriage
The words hit Areum like a physical blow. The polite smiles in the room blurred out and the soft claps and congratulations sounded like a roar in her ears. Married? To him? This was a nightmare. Her face flushed, heat creeping up her neck.
"Mother, I need a word," Areum managed, her voice tight, barely above a whisper. She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and practically bolting up the stairs, leaving three stunned men, a woman, and awkward silence behind her.
She slammed her bedroom door shut, the resounding thud echoing the rage inside her. An arranged marriage? This was the fucking 21st century! She paced her room, heart pounding, fists clenched, until a soft knock interrupted her.
"Areum? Love, can I come in?" It was her mother's voice, surprisingly gentle.
Areum glared at the door. "No."
The door creaked open anyway. Her mother, Aerin, stepped inside, her eyes soft, a glow lighting her features. It was a happiness that smoothed the worry lines from her mother's brow, one that made her look years younger.
"Love, I know this is a shock," Aerin began, her voice soothing. "But the Bang family? They're wonderful. This merger, this alliance? It will secure Kims LLC for generations. And it will open so many doors for you, too. Chan, he's such a good man. So ambitious, so kind," her mother's hand reached out, gently caressing Areum's cheek.
"I just want you to be happy, Areum. And for the family to be secure."
Areum looked into her mother's eyes, finding nothing but excitement. The racing, the secret thrill, the rebellion? They all seemed so selfish in the face of her mother's almost childlike hope. This wasn't about her parents forcing her into something awful; this was about them believing they were giving her and their family, a safe and happy future. And in her mother's face, Areum saw a weight that had been lifted, the hope of a dream finally within reach.
A bitter taste filled her mouth, but a different kind of calculation began to form in her mind. The rage began to cool, replaced by a calculative resolve. She could be the perfect daughter. She could make her mother happy.
"Okay, Mother," Areum said, her voice almost a whisper, yet firm. She met her mother's gaze, a bright but fake smile touching her lips. "I'll marry him."
Aerin's face crumpled in relief, tears beginning to pool in her eyes as she pulled Areum into a tight hug. Areum hugged her back, her gaze fixed on the wall, a hollow ache beginning to grow in her chest.
And so it was finalized.
Han Areum would wed Bang Chan.
But it wouldn't be for love. Hell no.
It would be for the nights Areum would come home to see her mother happily curled up on her bed, at peace with the thought of her daughter being in safe hands.
It would be for the days her mother would be cooking, racing around the kitchen. A trace of happiness in her eyes and a knowing smile on her face as she looked at Areum, thinking about when her little girl would have a family of her own.
It would be for the hope in her mother's eyes, and for a debt Areum now felt she owed. Her own heart was definitely not a prize in this race.
⋆｡°✩ paring: non-idol bang chan x original character
⋆｡°✩ synopsis: han areum was raised to be perfect—future heiress, model daughter, untouched by scandal. but beneath the surface, she hides a secret that makes her heart race at the thought. her life is flipped upside down when she meets a mysterious man, and their bond is only forced closer as time ages. but somewhere in between the confusion and the lies, things start to feel dangerously real.
⋆｡°✩ warnings: smut, graphic depiction of sexual act, profanity, alcohol consumption, sex talk/jokes, suggestive
⋆｡°✩ genre: romance, angst, fluff, arranged marriage
Pushing the door open, Areum walked in and collapsed on the couch in a sigh. She groaned as her mother's voice rang through the halls.
"Areum!"
"Yes?" Areum grumbled, her face buried in the plush of the couch cushion.
"Get dressed. We've got guests coming over and you look like shit." her mother reprimanded. Areum dragged herself off of the couch and up the stairs. Finding her bedroom door in the dimly lit hallway, she fumbled for the knob, finally pushing it open to reveal her brother standing in the closet doorway like an NPC.
"What do you want?" Areum rolled her eyes, pushing him out of her way as she shuffled through her closet for something to wear.
"That," Jisung pointed at the hair straightener sitting on her vanity. "Dad said the guests weren't just important. They're from SMC. The blonde DILF who lives off of coffee's the CEO and his assistant is his best friend. Lee Minho, the purple-haired hottie?"
Jisung gripped his hair in a panic. "They were our guests. Mom said they had some business stuff to talk about with Dad regarding our company, Kims LLC, and having us being there would look good. So I have to look my best." He finishes, holding up an extra dramatic thumbs up accompanied by a grin that stretched from ear-to-ear.
Areum lazily found a dress, pulling open the door to the bathroom.
"Only after I'm ready." she stuck her tongue out at her brother, who sighed and collapsed on the chair.
Walking out of the bathroom, Areum smoothed the wrinkles out of the front of her dress. "How do I look?" she asked, posing for dramatic effect.
Jisung rolled his eyes and clapped in mock celebration. "Like you belong on the runway, sweetheart."
His frown quickly turned into a smile as Areum heated up the hair straightener. "Yay!" he squealed quietly, sitting up straighter in the chair.
Minutes later, Areum descended the grand staircase, Jisung trailing behind, still running a hand through his now perfectly styled hair. The warm glow of the chandeliers illuminated the familiar marble foyer, where her parents stood, beaming. Standing beside them were two unfamiliar figures.
Her eyes widened slightly as she recognized one to be the man from the track – Bang Chan, the blonde hair catching the light, his earlier cocky smirk replaced by a polite, almost too-perfect smile. Next to him stood another man, offering a fake smile with vibrant purple hair.
"Areum, darling, come meet our guests," her mother chirped, pulling Areum forward. "This is Mr. Bang Chan, the CEO of SMC, and his assistant, Mr. Lee Minho."
Areum forced a bright smile, biting back an insult. "It's a pleasure to meet you both," she lied smoothly, extending a hand to Chan.
Chan's eyes met hers, sharp and knowing. A ghost of his smirk played on his lips as he bowed slightly.
"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Han," he said, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. "I believe we've already... crossed paths." The words hung in the air, an unspoken challenge only the two of them understood.
Minho, beside him, seemed to catch the subtle shift in tension, his gaze flicking between them.
The adults moved into the living room, discussions of corporate mergers, market shares, and potential collaborations filling the air. Areum found herself sitting awkwardly between her father and Chan, who pitched in with questions and nods. She contributed occasionally, offering comments that drew a faint, appreciative nod from Chan.
Just as the conversation began to lull, her mother clapped her hands, her smile impossibly wide. "Well, with all this talk of joining forces," she began, glancing pointedly at Chan's parents who had just joined them, "we have another exciting announcement!"
Areum shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to adjust the dress's low neckline without drawing too much attention.
Her mother beamed. "Areum and Chan will be getting married!"
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i watched the seat yesterday anD YESS KIMI MY LOVE
hehe don't mind me
this is because i'm like 99% sure that i saw you like a max verstappen post but i might be wrong cuz it was from like a month ago or smth
and idk if we're moots yet but i'm open to it cuz you're one of my fav authors on this app :))
YES YES HI. OMG I THINK YOU SAW ME ON ONE OF LYNN'S POST HAHAHAHAGHA. I am very mich fan of f1 too. So yeah. I read tjose focs too but rarely interact on them. My fave racer is TALL HAHAHAHAHAHAHA But I also watch Kimi, Max, and Landon.
YES. Actually I have been thinking how we became moots because I think I haven't seen your username. Have you recently changed yours 😭😭😭 I'M SO SO SORRY.
⋆｡°✩ ❝ Love's a race. But sometimes, the hardest thing to win is your own heart. ❞
# zero : criminal
⋆｡°✩ paring: non-idol bang chan x original character
⋆｡°✩ synopsis: han areum was raised to be perfect—future heiress, model daughter, untouched by scandal. but beneath the surface, she hides a secret that makes her heart race at the thought. her life is flipped upside down when she meets a mysterious man, and their bond is only forced closer as time ages. but somewhere in between the confusion and the lies, things start to feel dangerously real.
⋆｡°✩ warnings: smut, graphic depiction of sexual act, profanity, alcohol consumption, sex talk/jokes, suggestive
⋆｡°✩ genre: romance, angst, fluff
Speeding down the lane, Areum watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was lounging on the bleachers, a gentle breeze ruffling his curly blonde hair. Anyone who saw him would have thought he was on his phone, from the way it was propped in front of him, but Areum wasn't just anyone.His leg bounced up and down arrhythmically.
He shifted, just enough to get a better view as she raced around the track. His eyes darted back and forth between Areum and her best friend, who stood at the finish as he timed her laps.
Rolling her eyes, Areum pushed past the finish line harshly, kicking up a wave of dust. Coughing theatrically, her best friend made his way over to where she was climbing out of her car.
"That wasn't bad. It only took you 1:30.224 to complete 3 miles." Heeseung remarked sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air in mock desperation.
"Compared to you, 1 minute and 30 seconds is legendary considering you can't even drive." Areum shot back, pulling off her helmet.
"Touché." Heeseung confessed, then he leaned slightly to whisper in her ear.
"He's been here for quite a while."
"I know," Areum scrunched her eyebrows up, placing her hands on her hips to stabilize herself. "I'll take care of it."
Heeseung nodded, and Areum tossed him her helmet.
"Put it back in the rack." Areum ordered, striding towards the man at the bleachers. He looked up, tucking his phone into his pocket as she approached.
"What's your fucking problem?" his eyes widened slightly at her demanding tone, but all traces of shock dissipated and were replaced by a cocky smile.
"Was it ever a crime to admire someone?" he challenged, tilting his head with confidence.
"Without consent? Yes." Areum pressed, crossing her arms.
"Then I'm a criminal." he beamed cockily, holding his hands together as if challenging her to handcuff him. "Care to escort me to jail?"
Speechless, Areum simply scoffed before turning around to walk away. Behind her, he began to read off a list of numbers. She didn't move, wondering if it was a prank.
"Bang Chan."
"Text me if you're interested in professional racing."
Areum heard his footsteps recede as he walked back to his car.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
⋆｡°✩ paring: non-idol bang chan x original character
⋆｡°✩ synopsis: han areum was raised to be perfect—future heiress, model daughter, untouched by scandal. but beneath the surface, she hides a secret that makes her heart race at the thought. her life is flipped upside down when she meets a mysterious man, and their bond is only forced closer as time ages. but somewhere in between the confusion and the lies, things start to feel dangerously real.
⋆｡°✩ warnings: smut, graphic depiction of sexual act, profanity, alcohol consumption, sex talk/jokes, suggestive
