Ruby

you were older, more resolved, more used to the weight of things. he was lighter, softer around the edges, still figuring himself out in ways you had already gone through years ago. and eventually, somehow, he had become your person.  if anything, it showed in the way he listened more carefully than most people your age, in the way he paid attention to details others brushed off, in the way he stayed when conversations got too heavy for everyone else.

so that night, when the conversation drifted the way it did, it didn’t feel strange at first.

you were already a little tipsy, the warmth of the alcohol sitting comfortably in your chest, loosening your thoughts just enough that you stopped filtering them so carefully. he was sitting beside you, legs stretched out, head tilted back against the couch, listening in that careful way he always did, like everything you said mattered more than it probably should.

“you know what’s the worst part?” you said, staring at your bottle, turning it slowly between your fingers.

“hm?” he hummed, not even looking at you, but you knew he was listening.

“breaking up,” you continued, your voice softer now, more honest than you usually allowed yourself to be. “everyone talks about missing the person, or the routine, or whatever… but no one talks about missing the sex.”

that made him glance at you.

you didn’t look back. you just kept talking, because once you started, it felt easier to let it out than to stop. 

when you finally turned your head, he was already watching you, brows slightly drawn together like he was thinking too hard about something.

“what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes a little.

he hesitated.

and that was new.

chan didn’t usually hesitate with you.

he looked down at his hands for a second, then back up “i mean…” he started, voice uncertain. “i could help you with that.”

and for a second, you thought you had heard him wrong.

you blinked. “what?”

he let out a small breath, like he was already regretting saying it, but he didn’t take it back. instead, he looked at you properly this time “i’m just saying,” he continued, slower now, choosing his words more cautiously. “you don’t have to… miss it. if you don’t want to.”

you stared at him, trying to process what he had just said, but your mind kept getting stuck on the same thing. he wasn’t joking. there was no teasing tone, no playful smile, no easy way to brush it off and laugh like you usually would.

he meant it, and suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was, how his knee was almost touching yours, how his arm rested along the back of the couch, just behind you, how his eyes hadn’t left your face since he said it.

“chan…” 

he swallowed, and you noticed it “i know it sounds weird,” he said quickly, a small, nervous laugh slipping out. “i just— i thought… you know. we trust each other. and it wouldn’t have to be a big deal or anything.”

you let out a slow breath, your heart beating a little faster than it should, because the thing is, he wasn’t wrong. you did trust him, more than most people.

“you’re serious…” 

“yeah,” he answered, just as quietly.

you looked at him again, and it hit you in a way it hadn’t before. chan had always been attractive, in that effortless, boyish way you had never let yourself think too much about. it had never mattered, because he was yours in a different way, untouchable in that sense. and it unsettled you, not because it felt wrong, but because it didn’t feel as impossible as it should.

“and then what? we just… go back to normal?”

he hesitated again, but not for long “if that’s what you want,” he said. “yeah.”

you studied him for a moment, searching for something in his expression; doubt, hesitation, anything that would make this easier to dismiss. but all you found was sincerity, because now the choice was yours. you leaned back against the couch, your head resting where his arm was stretched out behind you, and neither of you moved away.

“you’re insane,” you murmured, but there was no bite to it.

he huffed out a quiet laugh. “i’ve been told.”

you closed your eyes for a second, trying to gather your thoughts, but they refused to settle into anything clear. then uou opened your eyes again, turning your head slightly until you were looking at him.

“you really thought this through?” you asked.

he gave a small shrug, “more than i should have, probably.”

and just like that the air between you two shifts thick and heavy like the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to say yes or no. but you dont say shit, you just look at him this easy boy who’s always been your safe place, and something in your chest cracks open. because it feels too real too ordinary to be this charged.

the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, like he’s been thinking about this longer than he let on. you swallow hard heart hammering stupid in your ribs and mutter “okay chan fuck it show me what you got” your voice casual but your thighs press together a little, because you’re already wet just from the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters right now.

he doesn’t waste time, doesn’t make it weird or movie perfect, he just leans in slow his hand sliding up your thigh under the hem of your loose shorts. the calluses on his fingers rough in the best way scraping lightly over your skin, making you shiver and think; shit this is chan,  your chan, the one who brings you coffee without asking.

and now his breath is hot against your inner thigh as he tugs your shorts and panties down in one go, leaving you bare on the couch cushions the cool air hits your pussy, and you feel yourself clench around nothing, already dripping a little because your body’s been waiting for this even if your brain’s still catching up.

he settles between your legs on his knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pushing your thighs wider with those big hands, his thumbs digging in just enough to keep you open and exposed, and you watch him watch you. his eyes dark, but still soft around the edges, like he’s checking if you’re okay and that does something stupid to your inside.

he dips his head and drags his tongue flat and slow up your slit, collecting every bit of your slick in one long lazy lick, the wet heat of it makes your hips twitch, and a low “oh shit” slips out of you, because fuck it’s better than you imagined.

the way his tongue feels smooth and warm pressing against your folds, parting them like he’s savoring the taste of you. he moans right into your pussy, the vibration buzzing straight to your clit, making your breath catch.

he does it again, slower this time, circling the tip of his tongue around your entranc, teasing the sensitive skin there before sucking gently at your folds. the soft wet pull of his mouth creating this obscene little suction sound, that fills the room louder than the music still playing low in the background.

and you can hear how wet you are already, the slick sounds of his tongue lapping at your juices like he’s drinking you down, not rushing, his lips seals around your clit and he sucks harder, the pressure building perfect, and filthy the way your clit throbs under the suction like it’s being pulled into the wet heat of his mouth, makes you feel that familiar burn starting low and sharp. the good kind that makes your toes curl against the couch.

he flicks his tongue fast, then slow, alternating between tight little circles, and broad flat strokes that drag over your swollen nub. leaving you gasping as your hand flies down to fist in his hair tugging hard, because chan knows exactly how to work you, like he’s studied every little reaction you might give, and the strangled moan that rips from your throat is nothing like the ones you’ve made alone.

your mind’s spinning, because this is supposed to be just helping out, but it feels too fucking good. the constant schlick schlick of his mouth slurping up your arousal that’s leaking down your thighs, makes you drip onto the couch, but you don’t even care because he’s humming against you like he loves the taste, and it vibrates through your whole pussy making your walls flutter around nothing.

in a blink, his fingers are there. two of them thick and calloused sliding through your folds easily, he pushes one in first slow and deep curling it just right to rub against that spot inside you, that makes your vision blur. the sound it makes is so fucking wet, a loud squelch as he pumps it in and out lazy at first, letting your juices coat his hand completely before adding the second finger.

he's stretching you open, and the burn is perfect, that slight sting mixing with the pleasure as he scissors them apart then curls, both hooking them deep and dragging back out over and over. the rhythm matching, the way his tongue’s still sucking your clit like he’s trying to pull an orgasm right out of you, his fingers thrusting faster, the wet squelching sounds getting louder and messier every time he buries them to the knuckle. 

you’re grinding down on his face without thinking, hips rolling chasing that pressure, because it feels too real, too good, the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, dripping down his wrist, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull back, even when you tug his hair harder. 

“chan fuck right there don’t stop” your voice all broken and desperate.

he gives the kind of head that ruins you for anyone else, the kind that’s messy and real and so fucking intimate you feel it in your chest too, not just between your legs.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, hot against your soaked pussy, his chin shiny with your juices and he looks up at you eyes half-lidded, you can see the bit of tiredness in his breath, but he looks like he is far from stopping now. 

“you taste so fucking good…” he murmurs, before diving back in tongue fucking into you now alongside his fingers, the combination making your back arch off the couch a choked moan tearing out of you as the wet sounds turn even filthier the constant slick slide of his tongue and fingers working you open.

he pushes you closer and closer and you’re lost in the way your body’s reacting so honest, the burn in your clit from his relentless suction, the deep ache building low in your belly from his fingers curling just right, every thrust dragging more of your wetness out with those loud obscene squelches that make your face heat up, but ends up turning you on even more.

why?

because it’s him doing this to you, your chan, making you fall apart on your own couch like it’s nothing. and you know deep down, this isn’t going back to normal, not after the way he’s devouring you like he’s been starving for it. 

your body locks up tight without warning. the orgasm crashes through you like a goddamn wave you didn’t see coming. your back arches clean off the couch, thighs clamping around chan’s head as that deep burn in your clit explodes into white-hot sparks. 

his tongue still suctioned hard around your swollen nub, pulling every last drop of it out of you, and you cum messy and loud, a broken “oh fuck, chan—” ripping from your throat while your pussy clenches and flutters hard around his fingers, gushing warm slick all over his chin and mouth. 

he moans right into your cunt, loud and deep, like he’s the one falling apart too. his voice vibrating through your pulsing walls, making the aftershocks hit harder. you feel every lick, every swallow as he eats you through it, greedy and filthy, not pulling away even when your hips jerk and twitch, because he’s drinking you down like he can’t get enough. 

the way your mind blanks out completely, just pure heat and mess, and the thought that this is your easy safe chan, now tongue-deep in your pussy moaning like he’s starving for your cum. that alone makes you cum a little harder, he keeps licking you soft and slow through the comedown, his moans turning into these satisfied little hums while your chest heaves and your thighs tremble around his ears.

the second he feels your body start to relax, the tension easing out of your muscles, he’s already moving. no time for you to catch your breath or float down gentle.

he sits up quick, his chin shiny with you, his eyes dark and blown wide, and you watch hazy as he reaches down, unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other still stroking your soaked folds like he can’t stop touching you. the metal clink sounds so ordinary against the wet mess between your legs. 

he leans sideways, grabbing his backpack off the floor beside the couch, rummaging fast until he pulls out a condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth while his free hand shoves his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. and you’re still blinking through the fog of your orgasm when he rolls it on quick and messy, not even giving you a second to process before he’s back between your thighs, lining himself up.

your eyes fly open wide the moment you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your dripping entrance, and you arch hard, a needy mewl slipping out as he's right there, pushing in, stretching you open while your pussy’s still fluttering and sensitive from cumming. 

the continuity of it hits you so fucking hard, that full heavy slide right after your orgasm making your walls clamp down around him, greedy and wet. you look up at him then, and his perfect abs are clenching tight with every slow thrust, his shirt rucked up just enough to show the way they flex and roll under his skin. his eyes rolling back a little as he bites down hard on the inside of his mouth, trying to keep it together, and you feel it all, the burn, the stretch, the way he fills you so good it makes your toes curl again.

you mewl at him all sly and breathy,  “let me feel you, channie.” 

he doesn’t even hesitate. he grabs your hand quick, sliding it up under his shirt right over those warm clenching abs, letting your palm drag across the hard ridges of muscle while he leans down over you, his chest pressing close. 

his mouth is on yours, swallowing the loud moan that rips out of you the second he bottoms out deep. the kiss is messy and desperate, muffling how fucking loud you get because the stretchand the way his cock throbs inside your still-spasming pussy is too much, balls deep buried inside you, while he's kissing you stupid while your nails dig into his abs and your hips roll up to meet him like you never want this ordinary night to end.

every second surprises you,  like he’s reading your body better than you ever could. right when you think you’ve caught your breath from that first deep thrust, chan grabs both your wrists in one big hand and locks them above your head against the couch cushion, pinning you down easy and firm. his other palm slides flat over your lower belly, pressing hard right where his cock is buried inside you, and fuck the pressure skyrockets.

you feel him thicker, deeper, the head of his dick dragging against that spot with every tiny movement, like he’s molding your insides around him on purpose. your eyes squeeze shut and a broken sob slips out, tears already pricking hot at the corners because it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“chan— oh my god,” you choke, voice cracking into nothing but wet mewls. 

you can feel it in the way his hips snap harder, grinding that perfect pressure against your belly from the outside while he rails you from the inside, like he wants to erase every lonely night you spent missing this exact feeling. every thrust punches the air out of you, wet slaps echoing loud between your bodies, your slick coating his ballsack and dripping down your ass with every pull back. your pussy flutters and squeezes around him so tight it almost hurts.

he leans down close, lips brushing your ear, and gives you that pretty white smile you’ve seen a thousand times, only now it’s filthy and soft at the same time. “i know, baby,” he murmurs in the prettiest voice, all low and sweet and a little breathless, like he’s savoring the way you fall apart for him. “i know it’s good. gonna make sure you never miss this shit again.”

before you can even try to answer, he pulls out sudden and smooth, flips you over like you weigh nothing, and yanks your hips up so you’re on all fours. your knees sink into the couch, ass up, back arched, and he’s sliding back in before you can whine at the loss.

the new angle hits even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls with every brutal thrust, your pussy taking him so loud it fills the whole room. 

you can only mewl, over and over, face buried in the cushion, tears slipping free now “s’good— chan, s’good, please— s’good—”

he laughs soft and fond behind you, that same lovely voice wrapping around the words as he rails you harder, hips snapping in strong rolls  “yeah? that’s my girl. just take it, baby. let me fuck all that missing right out of you.” his abs clench tight every time he bottoms out, balls slapping wet against your clit, and you’re crying into the fabric, body shaking, this night just turning into the kind of sex that rewires your brain, and chan’s the one doing it with that stupidly sweet smile and those relentless hips.

you don’t even remember what you were complaining about anymore. all you know is his cock, his hands, his voice telling you he knows, and the way your pussy keeps gushing around him like it never wants him to stop.

it tightens in your belly again without any warning, that familiar coil pulling so fast and so fucking tight you’re actually impressed by how quick another orgasm is already building up, like your body’s been starving for this exact feeling and chan’s the only one who knows how to unlock it. 

you don’t even moan anymore. your mouth just drops open in a wide, silent ‘o’, eyes squeezed shut as hot tears slip down your cheeks and you sob without sound, the pleasure so overwhelming it steals every noise right out of your throat. your whole body shakes on all fours, knees sinking deeper into the couch while chan keeps railing you from behind.

his hand sneaks under you then, sliding between your trembling thighs, and he sinks his fat cock completely inside you in one hard thrust, bottoming out so deep the pressure in your belly spikes even higher. his fingers find your swollen clit and start flicking it fast, tight little circles that make your vision spark white. “that’s it, baby, cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

you can’t even answer, just sob silently into the cushion as the orgasm rips through you hard and sudden, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice, squeezing and fluttering so tight it drags him right over the edge with you. he groans deep in his chest, hips stuttering as he cums hard inside the condom, thick pulses you can still feel through the latex while your walls milk him for everything he’s got.

your arms give out completely after that. you can’t even keep yourself on all fours anymore, you just collapse belly-down onto the couch, face buried in the cushion, ass still slightly up because he’s still buried inside you, breathing hard against your back. 

chan stays there for a second, chest pressed to your spine, then he lets out a soft little scoff under his breath, quiet enough that he thinks you won’t hear it, like he’s trying so hard not to make you feel embarrassed about how fast and how hard you just fell apart for him. 

but you do hear it, and it makes something warm bloom in your chest because it’s so fucking him. he pulls out slow and careful, already reaching for something to clean you up like this was never supposed to be a big deal, even though both of you know it just changed everything in the best goddamn way.

[...]

after the quick bath you two took, with chan’s arm wrapped tight around your waist the whole time because your legs were still wobbling like a damn newborn deer, you both ended up freshly showered and completely naked under the fat, hot, white duvet. the room smelled like your coconut soap mixed with his skin, and the only light came from the stupid little lamp on the side table that you always forget to turn off. 

you were curled into his chest, one leg thrown lazily over his thigh, his arm heavy and warm around your back, like he couldn’t stop touching you even now.

you felt boneless and floaty while kssing him, pussy still tingling from everything he did, a lazy throb between your legs that made you shift a little closer. the kiss slows down naturally, like neither of you is in a rush anymore. his mouth moves against yours with a patience that makes your chest ache. you can still taste him, still feel the warmth of him. by the time you both pull back, it’s only enough to breathe, your foreheads brushing, noses barely touching, lips still ghosting each other like neither of you wants to let go fully.

“hey,” 

you tilt your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. “hm?”

his fingers pause for a second, then resume, slower this time. “i need you to know something.”

you don’t say anything, but you feel your chest tighten a little, your attention sharpening.

“this… tonight,” he continues, searching for the right words, “it wasn’t just me trying to help you feel better… or distract you or anything like that.”

you study his face.

“i care about you,” he says, more quietly. “a lot more than i probably should.”

you let out a small breath, your cheek still pressed against him, but your eyes don’t leave his.

he gives you that small smile, the one you’ve seen a hundred times, his hand comes up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering just slightly against your cheek.

“i’m not… using you,” he adds, almost like he needs to make it clear. “that’s not what this is for me. you’re not just… this.” he gestures faintly between you, then lets his hand settle back against you.

you swallow, your throat tight in a way you weren’t expecting.

“you’re the person i go to,” he continues, “when my day’s bad. when something good happens. when i don’t feel like being around anyone else. you’ve been that for me for a while.”

you shift slightly, your fingers curling lightly against his side, grounding yourself.

“i like you,” he says, more simply this time. “not just like this. just… you.”

there’s a pause, but it’s not empty. you lift your head a little more, your faces closer now, your breath mixing with his. your nose brushes his, and for a second neither of you moves. “i just didn’t want to go back to pretending,” he adds, almost under his breath.

your chest tightens again, but this time it’s warmer.

“and what are you asking for?” you ask.

he looks at you properly now, his expression open in a way that makes it impossible to look away.

“more than just tonight,” he says. “if you want that too.”

your gaze drops for a second, your thoughts catching up to you, then you look back at him.

“you’re serious,” you say.

“i am.”

you let out a slow breath, your hand shifting slightly against him. “and if i say no?” you ask, not because you mean it, but because you need to hear it.

his expression softens even more. “then nothing changes unless you want it to.”

that answer sits with you. you lean in without overthinking it, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. it’s slower this time. when you pull back, you stay close, your forehead resting against his. “you make this very hard to ignore,” you murmur.

It starts like any other time.

You place the beautiful, circular low table in the usual place by the window, with your usual pillows either side in the perfect places to have wonderful views out of the window. Minghao gathers everything needed to brew and make the tea you both favour at the moment. Then, you both sit and talk as calm and content as you always do while the tea brews.

Once it’s ready, Minghao pours the tea like always, and hands your cup over in the same manner as he always does. Or, at least, you don't immediately register the difference.

As Minghao offers your cup, your eyes lock, which in itself isn't unusual, but there's a dangerous little tint in his gaze this time that you truly fail to notice as you don't keep the eye contact up. You're more focused on carefully accepting the cup from him to minimise the chance of spillage, or the cup itself slipping from your fingers and smashing on the table.

It's not the first time your fingers have brushed either, so you think nothing of it and lean back to sit comfortably on your cushion again.

A warmth starts to slither up your back. Like heated fingers working over your bare skin under your t-shirt and edging up, and up, until they simply melt away before they meet the side of your ribs.

You shuffle a little, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the strange sensation, but you ignore it, figuring it was some kind of hot flush from being in the direct sunlight entering through the window, compared to the shade you were in before on the couch.

The left side of Minghao's mouth twitches up ever so slightly in pleased amusement as he watches you adjust your position out of the sun's direct rays to try and counteract your growing internal temperature.

“Everything okay?” he asks while lifting his cup up towards his face in time with you looking across the table to him.

Subconsciously, you copy the action to breathe in the soothing, familiar scent of the tea.

Your breath catches a little at the sudden increase of warmth in your body. It's gathering in your lower stomach, and suddenly, you realise that it's not a normal warmth, but the gently pulsing heat of arousal filling your veins.

The realisation makes you pause in genuine bewilderment, and a little horror at the fact that you're getting horny out of the blue while drinking tea with Minghao.

Being around Minghao in general can lead to sudden bouts of arousal; he's a very attractive man, after all. You're certainly not blind to his appeal in any way, shape or form.

But in the midst of a tea ceremony? That feels wrong.

It's supposed to be a calm time of self-reflection, and appreciation of all you have and the person with you. Minghao had told you that one day when you asked why he wanted you to join him. He said he wanted to show you that he appreciates you and your presence in his life by sharing the moment of calm with you.

You're pretty sure that he never imagined arousal to be part of your appreciation towards him.

Though, admittedly, there's a part of you that doesn't try to shut out the growing heat. A part of you that likes that you feel this way right now. A part of you enjoys the thought of feeling something so highly inappropriate for the moment and dragging Minghao into it with you.

Not that you plan to act on that deviant part of your mind. That's not the kind of relationship you have with Minghao. Your relationship is purely platonic. Even if you'd like that to change. And sometimes, you think he may too, but you can't tell if you're deluding yourself with wishful thinking or if the playful banter and flirting is real.

Regardless, getting horny over tea really isn't how this is supposed to go.

Minghao can see your mind whirling; can see each thought as it runs through your mind. You're not aware of that though; he hasn't yet told you that he's gifted in such a way.

Mind gifts are often frowned upon and tend to cause fear and anger in others, so Minghao prefers to keep his gift a secret until he trusts someone. It's been some time since Minghao started to trust you, yet he hasn't been brave enough to tell you in fear of your reaction.

Yet today, something about you has his own mind racing and his inhibitions lowering enough to make him get a little brave.

Or reckless. Because he truly does not know how you'll react when you learn the truth. That he is directly controlling your mind; only a little, but enough that your natural reactions kick in. A little nudge in the desired direction is all he's doing.

A press of an invisible palm against your inner thigh makes you look at the tea questioningly and wonder if this is some kind of special aphrodisiac blend.

You know that nobody is touching you, yet it feels so real; it feels just like you imagine Minghao's hand would. His long fingers curling over your flesh and testing the give under their pressure, his thumb stretching up and reaching the apex of your inner thigh almost, to bathe in the gathering heat made worse by this ghost touch.

“Is-is this a differ-” You stop to take a shaky inhale as another hand presses against your other thigh and you can't help but spread them fractionally wider in your cross legged position.

“Hm?” Minghao hums, tilting his head as if he isn't tricking your mind into thinking he's pressing against your thighs, and basking in the fact that you willingly open up a little in a natural response to his phantom touch.

He doesn't show it, of course, but Minghao can feel his body heating up in reaction to you. To the knowledge that although you are confused and trying to piece together why you're getting aroused with no obvious reason, you're still imagining his hands and subconsciously encouraging it, liking it.

“Is this-is this a different blend?” you manage to get out your query this time, even if it’s with some stammering. Your tongue feels weirdly heavy in your mouth, like something is pressing on it.

As you register that, you realise that it truly feels like something is against your tongue; thick, and long, and heavy. You have to bite back the whimper that suddenly wants to rise in your throat at the thought of it being Minghao’s cock on your tongue, making it hard for you to talk around the length of it.

“Mm, no, the same as the past few weeks, why?”

You can’t even respond, too afraid to open your mouth in case a needy whine tumbles from your tongue and into the air between you.

The smug little smirk curving Minghao’s lips grows at your obvious expanding struggle. Your cheeks are getting visibly darker with the flush spreading over your skin.

You keep squirming every few seconds and only stop when the fingers on your thighs squeeze a little; a silent demand to still. A demand you manage to understand on a subconscious level and follow obediently.

Minghao bites his lip at the sight; the understanding that you would submit to him, you would still and move at a touch of his hand, at a word exhaled against your skin almost silently.

He can’t keep this up much longer; he’s getting so restless himself, cock starting to strain against his loose shorts. He’s just glad for the table between you two, and your own arousal distracting you enough that you don’t notice his.

But perhaps if you had, if you were aware of his arousal as he was your own, neither of you would have to suffer so. As it is though, you are both suffering from the heat under your skin eating you up from the inside out with no way to soothe it without speaking the truth aloud.

Minghao adjusts his cup a little and blows at the steaming liquid lightly.

Even though you know that he is too far away for the soft exhale to reach you, the moment you see the steam adjust under his guidance, you feel the breath against your neck. A gentle caress over your heated skin that sends a shiver of delight down your body as your eyes flutter ever so slightly.

“Cold?” he asks with a teasing edge to his voice that he fails to hide. You catch it and look at him with a slight raise of your eyebrows. Minghao just raises his eyebrows back at you to silently question your own silent question.

For a couple of seconds, the two of you just stare at one another; silent and still with only the steam rising between you. Then Minghao purses his lips and blows against his tea once more, sending another shiver through your body as a slow puff dances over your throat and edges under your collar to the top of your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Do you need warming up?” No sooner than the words are out of his mouth, your body is enveloped in sudden heat. It feels like he’s wrapped himself around you entirely, bare skin to bare skin. You quickly put down the cup as your breath catches on a shaky inhale, lips parted and hands trembling with the sudden surge of warm arousal filling your body.

It’s too much for Minghao. He had watched your eyes practically roll back and your back arch slightly, and now he truly cannot keep this little game up anymore.

As quickly as he can without it being jarring, Minghao releases his hold on your mind, letting his phantom touch and influence melt away until you’re left feeling cold in comparison, even with the residual warmth he caused, and the arousal still aflame in your veins.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly; worried he has overstepped, especially as you shiver, not once but twice at the sudden lack of his projected warmth around you.

“I-I think there’s something wrong with me,” you admit while flattening your hands against the tabletop as you blink rapidly to try and bat the fuzz in your mind away.

“No, there isn’t.” He puts down his cup and starts to reach out for you yet decides that he shouldn’t, he can’t. He’s already perhaps overstepped far too much.

Minghao knows that you’re interested in him; even when he doesn’t delve into your mind, he’s aware of it and always has been. But that doesn’t mean that you are okay with mental manipulation. Minghao knows he can get in a lot of trouble for what he just did; that there’s a moral line of consent and he has severely blurred that line, perhaps bulldozed right over it.

Still, his cock is thick against his thigh just remembering how you had reacted to him; how beautiful you looked with pink cheeks and eyes glossing over.

He’s not sure he will truly regret it even if his actions have ruined the trust between you, because at least now, he has that image in his memories to look back on with a hand around his cock and your name spilling from his tongue when he’s overcome with the urge to ruin you yet cannot.

“It was me,” the confession sits heavy in the air between you as you look at him confusedly. “I…I was…in your head.”

“In my head?”

“Yes.”

“Like…mental manipulation?” Minghao nods in confirmation. “Oh, so that’s your gift.”

“What?” He looks puzzled now while you hum in understanding. “You knew?”

“Yeah, my gift is sensing Gifted people. I can spot a Gifted, if someone is going to come into a gift, if they’re lost their gift or it’s blocked. I’ve always known you’re Gifted, Hao, I just never knew what that gift is.”

“Oh, why didn’t you ask?”

“I figured you didn’t want me to know. I can see why; your type of gift is perhaps one of the most looked down on.”

“Yeah… with good reason.” He motions to you vaguely. “As you know, it’s very easy to manipulate someone’s mind.”

“Ah, so the tea isn’t an aphrodisiac.”

“No.” He gives an awkward little smile, but you don’t look upset in any way, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it now. Just a little bit. “Just me.”

“You’re the aphrodisiac?” you joke, making him huff out a laugh. “Well, I guess if you’ve been in my head, you already know how you affect me, so that’s not entirely inaccurate to say.”

“I…no, I guess not.”

You’re taking this all so easily, so smoothly, and carrying on like everything is normal that it makes Minghao’s cock twitch. Maybe, just maybe, this is going to be the turning point in your relationship that he’s been waiting for.

“Just to be clear, you’re not mad at me for doing that to you?” he questions, adjusting his position slightly while turning towards you a fraction more.

“No. I’ve never done that before, it’s…interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Hot.”

“You liked it?”

“You know I did.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, and reach for your cup, but a sudden surge of heat in your core makes you almost double over with a gasp, hands gripping onto the table for stability. “Hao,” you exhale, need laced heavily in your words.

“Tell me to stop at any point,” he murmurs, moving closer and sitting on his knees on your left, yet far enough away that you’re not even close to touching; even if his control on your mind is making you feel his hands smoothing over your thighs, his lips and tongue tracing heated lines up both sides of your neck at once.

You just about manage to force your heavy eyes to find him and lips to curve up in a challenge as you say the word one he needs to lose all grip he has on his self-control and ruin you like he’s always wanted to. “Never.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

"You said we'd go to lunch and we've been here for an hour and a half," he whines, popping another grape into his mouth as you scowl.

"I just moved in, Soonyoung. I have nothing at my apartment and don't forget, you begged me to tag along. I told you I'd swing by your place after I was done!" You scold, only for him to stick his tongue out at you as you toss a sack of apples into the cart, nibbling on your lip as you peruse the produce. Your list was crumpled and long forgotten in Soonyoung's jacket pocket, and the blond groaned loudly as you tentatively picked up a pineapple and brought it to your face, "quit that before I send you to go sit in my car."

"At least the car has AUX." "Kwon Soonyoung, I mean it."

"Alright, alright…" he trails off, sighing as he looks around the supermarket. You place the pineapple into the cart, the scent sweet and lingering as you cross your arms before Soonyoung's gasp grabs your attention.

"What? What? Is it an old teacher? Are they pregnant?" You look up, your eyes darting around the produce section before Soonyoung's hand grabs your jaw gently and tilts it towards the pile of 'organic plums' — your eyes landing on a white shirt stretched exhaustingly across the broad expanse of shoulders far too familiar. Your jaw tenses at the sleeves that leave nothing for the imagination, straining against toned biceps as your eyes travel further, a slim waist cinched by a black belt and holding up a nice pair of light blue denim jeans. A wallet is tucked into the back pocket and you follow the movement of the arm tying up a plastic produce bag full of said plums — decorated in a singular silver ring on the pinky and a thick watch on the wrist.

"Lee Seokmin, in the flesh!" He calls, and you feel your face hot as said Lee Seokmin turns around, a bright smile spreading on his face as he spots Soonyoung as his hand drops from your face. He makes his way over, the basket in his hand flexing the tendons in his forearm as he gives Soonyoung a one-armed hug, "good to see you, buddy. Did you get a chance to catch up with Seungkwan? We're planning that dinner next month with the guys, it'd be really great to get everyone together…"

He trails off as he sees you standing next to him, a softness glazing over his eyes as he extends his hand to you, "My apologies, I didn't see you. You look…familiar."

You hadn't changed much from high school. Maybe grew a couple of spontaneous inches, learned how to properly do your makeup, stopped acting like you didn't care about other's perception of you and actually put an effort into being more social. He tilts his head as Soonyoung shoves your shoulder, your hands twitching at the hem of your denim miniskirt you'd foolishly worn in the biting Wisconsin wind.

"Sorry," you mumble, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake. "We went to prom together."

"Oh my God, so it's true! I heard that you'd moved back home but I wasn't sure if Yoon Jeonghan of all people was worth getting my news from," he rolls his eyes, before the smile on his lips grows slightly warmer. "It's good to see you, Y/N. You look…nice."

"You hesitated." Soonyoung huffs, shoving his friend's shoulder. "Coward."

"Soonyoung," you elbow him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you nod at Seokmin. "It's fine. You look great, I'm glad to see this town did someone well."

Soonyoung pouts at the insinuation that he's not that someone, making you snicker inwardly as Seokmin eyes you carefully. Like he's studying you, like something is different and he can't figure out what.

"Are you settling in okay? Is Soonyoung being helpful?" He asks, leaning against the apple display, hooking his thumb on his belt loop. You tongue your cheek as you look up at Soonyoung, who acts like the Virgin Mary herself is calling his name as he clears his throat, "oh, look. They have…uh…rotisserie chicken. I'll get you one! You guys catch up!"

He scurries off, and you just shake your head as you move stuff around in the cart.

"I'm settling in fine. I only came back to spend time with my parents, Gyu moved out to go to grad school, but I'm sure you knew that." You shrug, "Soonyoung is Soonyoung. He helped me unload the boxes from the moving truck but I'm taking the weekend and next week to unpack. Just me and a glass of whiskey on the rocks…or two, or three."

You smile as he nods, "do you need help? I'm free all weekend."

"Oh, I'm alright." You respond quickly, almost too quickly. "I've uh…become quite the collector of things. Things I don't exactly need everyone to know I like."

"Vintage Playboy magazines, huh?" "Shut up!"

He laughs softly, his eyes forming crescents as he glances down at the cart, "have you met up with anyone from here?"

The question stings slightly, but you force yourself to brush it off as you shake your head. "No one to meet up with besides Soonyoung, you know. Wasn't always that good at keeping bad company around, you know me."

He does.

He does know you.

The thing about Lee Seokmin is that he knew everything there was to know except where you went the moment you peeled out of this stupid town — small and not at all living up to the Pleasant Hill name. Wisconsin was still Wisconsin, and you still loved the cheese curds from Culver's but the fact of the matter was that Lee Seokmin was likely the only memory you allowed yourself to revisit when you thought about this stupid place.

Sweet, understanding Seokmin that graduated the same year Mingyu did. Sweet, understanding Seokmin that was so cute and absolutely your (and all your friends') hallway crush from grades six through eleven, before you got a boyfriend halfway through your junior year. He still waved at you in the halls, and you still smiled back — but eventually, the boyfriend grew tall enough to block your line of vision and the idea of Seokmin melted from your mind.

You met Seokmin when you were nine years old. He'd been your brother's friend for ages but only when you were in fourth grade was Seokmin officially allowed to come over to your house to spend the night with Mingyu. Your brother would lock his bedroom door as his friends huddled over baseball cards and delicious sandwiches made by your father with the crusts cut off. Eventually, your friend Minghao made it into your brother's get-togethers — effectively rendering you hypoethetically friendless until one of the boys slipped out of Mingyu's room for snacks or water, or even to suck up to your father for an extra serving of dinner before bolting back into the room.

Before Seokmin came around, you had Jihoon, Soonyoung and Minghao — they usually huddled up with you at the dinner table and asked about your friends and your schoolwork. They'd ruffle your hair, they'd pinch your cheeks and steal home fries off your breakfast plate; so they were like three more version of Mingyu you never asked for, but loved nonetheless. You'd swat at them, shove them away before they inevitably got picked up and left you to get thrown around by Mingyu on the trampoline in your backyard as he debriefed all the girls that they liked that were in your grade.

Then, Seokmin moved in next door.

His family bought the beautiful brick two-story with a wrap-around porch that once housed the town doctor before he up and took off out West, chasing a wild wet dream (read: his mistress.)

He was suddenly over at your house every single day, glued at Mingyu's hip — tossing a pigskin around, tinkering around under the hood of your mother's 1969 Cadillac Deville…bothering your father for a sandwich with the crusts cut off because Mingyu was a big baby. He'd split it with your brother on the porch and ask about your day as you stomped up the steps after dance practice. You'd never delve too deep into details, simply shaking your head or giving him a thumbs up before ducking inside and burying your head in the books.

Mingyu and his friends graduated, going all over the country for college — but Seokmin stayed. He went to state school to stay close to his parents, but not so close that he didn't get that same taste of freedom that your brother and Minghao were enjoying at Rutgers in New Jersey. You were a senior in high school, trying to make the best of all the changes — only for it to be the worst year an 18-year-old girl could have.

You got (and crashed) your first car, which was Mingyu's before it was yours so it had that gross 'I give my friends rides home from football practice' smell permeated in the seats. You failed your first semester of Calculus and had to go to tutoring and Saturday school for six weeks to even attempt to earn a C. You injured your foot during practice and got benched for the rest of the year, so there was nothing to look forward to (not that they would've kept you on the team anyway, since you failed Calculus.)

To top it all off — your best friend and your boyfriend were in cahoots. Six years of friendship (and her gross crush on Mingyu) and almost a year and a half of dating were wasted, and both presented their end three weeks before prom — which was two days before graduation.

You'd stared at your dress for a good while the night before it was all supposed to happen. It'd been hung up on your closet door, the one thing you looked forward to after such a shit year that wasn't graduation — and it was sullied. The sparkly butter yellow tulle made your stomach hurt, the sweetheart neckline littered with glittering rhinestones making your eyes prickle with tears. You stared at the French pedicure you'd gotten at your local nail salon that would've peeked out the bottom of your dress — your shoes six-inch tall heels and the straps were decorated with flowers.

You were a nominee for Prom Queen. You had your hair and makeup inspiration saved to a Pinterest board you'd been curating since you found out prom was a thing that would happen in your life. Your ex-boyfriend's matching tie and corsage sat on your dresser, abandoned. You didn't have a date, and now an extra ticket to a gathering you weren't sure you wanted to attend.

Until Mingyu knocked on your door.

He'd come home from college for the summer a week earlier, making the drive back to Wisconsin right after his last final. He dropped Minghao off at his house, and skirted right into the driveway of your house, welcomed lovingly by his parents and confused when his little sister was holed up in her room, staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling.

"I'd go with you if I could, pipsqueak." He said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed as you let hot tears pool in your eyes. "But I know you'd think that's mega lame."

"It is mega lame. Gyu." Your voice had been so thick you could hardly understand yourself, but he squeezed your ankle through the blanket before sighing. "Mingyu, why has this year been so shit? Was your senior year this shitty?"

"Well." He adjusted slightly, "I got dumped because I chose Rutgers over staying here, and I had to take Minghao to prom. We still had a good time…maybe you can take Soonyoung. He's in town again, I know he swung by earlier to see how you were holdin' up."

"I look like such a loser taking a friend to my fucking prom. It was supposed to be me and my boyfriend." You huffed, angrily wiping at your eyes. "I don't even have a cute guy that I could pretend is into me."

The silence that blanketed over you both was deafening, before you met each other's eyes in that way siblings do when something is so good but it's crazy. It's so good, and it'd work so well — but it's absolutely insane.

Mingyu grabbed the tie and corsage while you practically tumbled down the stairs in your pajamas, running out the front door and across the lawn barefoot as the sprinklers started going off. You banged on the front door of the Lee house, hearing rustling before the door swung open and your fist was caught by one Lee Seokmin.

"Go to prom with me."

Naturally — as a favor to an old friend's little sister, Seokmin agreed. He blindly agreed as Mingyu instructed him to be your arm candy all night long, to show you off, let you be the star of the show. Pretend that an older boyfriend in college was far more interesting than some cheap party thrown together by the school in a fancy hotel — essentially, make you something worth envying.

It worked.

It worked like a dream — he stayed by your side the entire night, speaking softly to other dates, getting along with your dance team members, even greeting his old teachers with a bright smile that made them forget he was there with a student and wasn't one himself. They asked if he was your boyfriend, and you interrupted with a loud yes — his cheeks tinging pink as he held you close and kissed your temple. It was sweet, it was cute, and it was triumph coursing through your veins as you were crowned Prom Queen and left right after.

You sat in your mother's '69 Cadillac Deville with him, parked at a Dairy Queen on the outskirts of town with a sweet vanilla milkshake in your hand. He's thrown his suit jacket in the backseat, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie haphazardly pulled off. He rolled his sleeves up, leaning his head back against the seat when you snorted.

"You know what's funny?" "What's funny, sweets?"

He toyed with the straw of his own milkshake, his silver watch glinting in the low light.

"You can't tell Mingyu I said this." "I wouldn't tell Mingyu anything that's happened tonight if he paid me."

"I was supposed to lose my virginity tonight," you roll your eyes, kicking your heels off and crossing your legs at the knee. You stare up at the sky, "I was going to go to a motel with him, my ex. Get it over with so that I wouldn't go to college a virgin. Stupid, isn't it?"

"If that's the only reason you were going to do it, then yeah. A little bit." He nodded, plucking the cherry out of his cup and pulling the syrupy fruit off the stem with his teeth. "But I'm not any better, so I can't judge because I'm speaking from experience."

"You're not a virgin? I thought you were." "Haven't been since last summer. Why are you even thinking about it? I'm nineteen. I do…things." "Sure, man. Was it good? Is that TMI?"

"No," he snorted, shaking his head as he sighed, sucking his teeth. "It was just…there. The opportunity, I mean. I wasn't dating the girl either. It was a mistake and I regret it but life goes on. It should be with someone you trust and actually like, it adds to it. I guess. What do I know?"

"Lots of stuff." "Name two things." "You know my favorite color and you know how to drive. I trust you with my life, I think."

He laughed then, shaking his head as he played with his straw, "yeah, well. I'm sorry your senior year turned out this way. If it's any better, mine was pretty shit, too."

"Nah. I'd say it ended pretty well. I'm eighteen, I have a license, I graduate on Sunday and then I'm gone. I'm off to California and I never have to see this shitstain town again." You shook your head, sucking your teeth as you twisted in your seat. His eyes were wide, "you hate it here that much?"

"I have no good memories." "That might be a stretch, but I understand." "Thank you." You shrugged, tracing the stitching in the leather. The thread was a custom cobalt blue, to match the exterior of the car and paired with creamy beige seats. "Hey, Seok?"

"Yeah?" "Do you remember how you used to say hi to me everyday before you graduated last year? In the halls?"

He smiled, and you swore you saw a hint of a blush creep up the shells of his ears as he nodded, "yeah, of course I remember."

"Why'd you do it?" "Because…I don't know. It was a habit, and I liked seeing you…I don't know. It's courteous." "When you say I don't know…you mean you do, but you don't want to tell me. Right?"

"Right." He agreed, and you leaned slightly closer, holding your pinky out to him. He glances at it, and you scoot closer to him on the bench seat so your thigh is brushing his as you push your hand into his space.

"Pinky promise I won't tell Mingyu." "Mingyu doesn't scare me anyway."

He rolled his eyes, but linked his finger with yours. You waited for him to let go, but he interlaced his fingers with yours and held them on this thigh.

"For starters, everything I said is also true." "I figured, yes." "I think…I had a little bit of a crush on you. Nothing insane, of course. Just…a little one. Hallway crush, I think I heard Mingyu call it once."

You shifted then, your hand subconsciously squeezing his as you cleared your throat.

"And you never said anything?" "You're my best friend's little sister. Even I saw the cliché there. It's not that…I wouldn't have made a move, I just didn't think it was a wise choice in the long run."

You nodded, "yeah…that makes sense."

Neither of you moved away or unfurled your fingers, but Seokmin sighed, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. You're very right, Mingyu would've knocked our heads together." "…Our?"

"You think I waved back because it was courteous? Get with the program, Lee." You snorted, shaking your head as you stared up at the sky. The stars twinkled, almost mockingly as you sighed, "though, it's much worse with it's best friend who likes the little sister. It's kind of expected for the little sister to like the best friend, you know? Clichés and all that…always blamin' it on the girls. Like it's my fault Mingyu has cute friends."

"Plural?" "Singular, sorry."

"Would you have let me kiss you?" He asked suddenly, and you lolled your head to the side, scanning his face with your eyes before shrugging. "Y/N."

"Depends. Are you kissing me because you want to or because it gives you the rush of kissing your best friend's sister?" "Mostly the first." "Cynical." "I'm honest."

You laughed then, squeezing his hand before sitting up properly. You tucked your legs under you, the fabric of your dress hanging off the edge of the seat as you kneeled next to him, your knees pressing into his thigh as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks for taking me to prom. You didn't have to." "I don't do these things for free, you know. Pay up, sixty bucks."

The smile on his lips said he was joking, but you feigned shock anyway and softly smacked his shoulder. He laughed, pulling his hand out of yours to wrap his arms around you. You let him pull you into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you buried your face into his neck. He patted your back, humming softly before he spoke.

"Thanks for thinking I was the right choice to leave a lasting impression. College boyfriends don't do this sort of thing, at least none of the ones I know."

"Well, you're my college boyfriend for the night." You shrugged, pulling back slightly. Your eyes met his, your faces centimeters apart. He shamelessly glanced at your lips, shifting slightly, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday. I know Mingyu came home, I was slammed."

"Are you going to keep talking about my brother or are you going to kiss me?"

You try not to remember the kiss, or the soft scent of vanilla floating off both your mouths.

Quite often, you shove it out of your mind and force yourself to think about what could've been if he'd said no. If your mother had called just a moment earlier, before your lips met his. If your brother had texted him just three minutes before his hand cupped your face gently and pulled you closer, milkshakes forgotten as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You never retell the story with the kiss included. You always just say your brother's best friend took you to prom and took you to milkshakes after. That he drove you through the outskirts of town in your mother's '69 Cadillac and made you feel like a princess.

Every single person lets you know that they think that 'brother's best friend' had a crush on you.

So to stand in this grocery store and know that Lee Seokmin has kissed you, has had a crush on you, has seen you cry — it feels vulnerable.

"Let's have dinner soon, if you're not busy. I'd love to catch up." He spoke softly, and Soonyoung was still acting stupid around the selection of rotisserie chicken, acting as if lemon herb and garlic rosemary were such hard choices. You gave Seokmin a small smile, holding up a finger as you called across the store, "pick a damn bird and get over here!"

Soonyoung pouted, grabbing one of each as you turned back to Seokmin. He was still looking at you with that same twinkle in his eyes, like he still wondered if you thought about him. If you thought about that night, if you thought about the sweet vanilla on his tongue as he kissed you for what felt like decades in the bench seat of your mother's car. If you thought about the way he pulled you into his lap, the way you pulled his hand up the expanse of your thigh that peeked out through the slit of your dress.

If you thought about the way he stopped kissing you before it could end the way most prom nights end — losing your virginity to him in a car. If you thought about how embarrassed he looked that he let himself get carried away, kissing down the slope of your neck and how he apologized because you were Mingyu's sister, because he was a year older than you and had more life lived, because, because, because.

Never in those reasons did he say because he didn't want to.

"We should, if you'd like. Uh, I'd offer my apartment but…" You rubbed your neck sheepishly, and he only shook his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a new contact. He handed it to you, your fingers trembling as you typed in your number, "was Mingyu very annoying while I was gone?"

"He actually told me earlier that I'm not allowed call him annoying." Seokmin scoffs, "because I'm, in his words, ten times as annoying but I don't think that's all that true."

"It's not." "Of course you say that, he's your brother."

"Birds of a feather flock together, Seokmin. If you're annoying, so is he." You deadpan, typing your name into the contact file. "But, you're less annoying because I have no obligation to tolerate you. If you piss me off, I can just walk away. Can't do that with Mingyu, I'll just have to see him again. Family and all."

You roll your eyes, handing his phone back. He nods, "valid."

"I see you've gotten acquainted once more," Soonyoung tries to ease into the conversation, but frowns as you and Seokmin both point your eyes at him. "Yah, you'd think I asked about that stupid prom night kiss."

"Anyway." You speak quickly, your cheeks hot as Seokmin's ears tinge pink under the fluorescent lights of the supermarket, "uh, Friday? Does Friday work for you?"

"Friday's great!" He blurts, "we can just do it at yours. I don't think you should be unpacking all those boxes by yourself."

"She doesn't even have a mattress, Seokmin. A mattress!" Soonyoung exclaims, and you nibble on your lip in embarrassment as Seokmin shoves his shoulder lightly, "you should be helping her!"

Soonyoung scoffs, wrapping his hands around the cart handle and pushing it forward, "I don't have to take this shit from you guys. I'm the glue that holds this family together, damnit."

He stalks away, head held high as Seokmin shakes his head.

"He's dramatic." "Oh, tell me about it. He's been whining about how hungry he is when I told him this would take time."

You sigh, your face still hot as you take a tiny step back, "well, it was nice seeing you, Seokmin. Uh, Friday, yeah? I'll send you my address."

"Sure, sure." He nods, clearing his throat. Things feel awkward in the air between you, "sorry about Soonyoung."

"It shouldn't be awkward. It was years ago," you try, but still cover your face with your hands. "God, I'm sorry."

"No! It's okay, it was just…not something I was expecting today." His laugh is still warm, but there's something else in it. Maybe embarrassment, maybe frustration.

Maybe guilt.

You extend your hand, "well, it's fine. Friends, right?"

He glances at it, taking it gently. He runs his thumb over your knuckles, "friends. Now, run along. I can see his blond head in the bakery from here, he's gonna make you buy him a cake."

"It's the least I could do," you snort, squeezing his hand carefully. "Bye, Seok."

"Bye, sweetheart. Be safe."

YOUR APARTMENT IS STILL A MESS WHEN SEOKMIN ARRIVES.

You are still a mess when Seokmin arrives, a pout on your lip as you open your front door and see him nicely dressed in a soft sweater and a crisply pressed pair of chinos under his brown peacoat — and the little black hoops looped through his ears that you hadn't seen in ages.

He only laughs, gently pinching your cheek between his knuckles and stepping inside to a mess of broken down boxes and old tape rolled into a ball, chucked over your coffee table. You've got an old, paint-stained t-shirt that used to belong to Mingyu over your pajama shorts, and you insist that you'll be ready soon — which he only smiles at your half done hair and full face of make-up (sans lipstick.)

"Take your time," he shrugs, "seems like you had quite the week getting this place fixed up. Nice work."

"Don't praise me, it won't bode well." You huff, scurrying back to your bathroom to make sure the curling wand didn't burn a hole into your sink.

The week had been insane — you paid Soonyoung in cheesecake on Monday and Tuesday to help you unpack your kitchen and your bathroom, and then told him not to bother you until Sunday because you were going to do the rest on your own. You managed to get most of it done, including getting a mattress delivered and your bedframe set up by Wednesday…

But the lingering boxes, trash and the like were all cause of your frequent back-and-forth texting with one Lee Seokmin.

You caught up on minute things — him leaving UW-Madison his sophomore year and meeting Mingyu and Minghao at Rutgers. Him getting a masters degree, you getting a masters degree. You living in California for six years and four in Oregon, and the unspoken knowledge that the other four were purely for a boyfriend.

One that you wound up breaking up with (and one that fueled the fire of you moving back home) after catching him in your bed with his ex-girlfriend. From high school. Who was also engaged to his best friend!

There was a joke in the conversation from Seokmin, asking how college was as a virgin. You fired back that it was much better than having a crush on your brother's best friend, to which he replied with a frowning emoji and insisted he was better to crush on than some snotty-nosed frat boy who drank like a fish.

You both silently acknowledged that the Mingyu wedge was still present, and neither of you would be making the move to overlook it…even if you silently hoped he would.

You also swapped social media accounts in the process — his was full of adventures. Trips to Seoul and Osaka with your brother and other friends of his, trips to the mountains and skiing out east. Gardens in New Jersey and his graduation from Rutgers (and the impressive Cornell, despite not being nearly as snooty as half the other people you'd met in California that had come from the Ivy League.)

Yours had been curated carefully — luncheons, aesthetically taken shots of you by your old roommates who had all moved home back east. There was summer vacation carousels, photos of you with Aperol Spritz' in your hand and lounging on boats in bikinis you begged your brother not to tell your mother about (who only asked why you weren't showing more skin when you called her that following Christmas.)

Seokmin only liked the latest carousel on your profile. Your goodbyes to the beautiful wilderness that surrounded you in Oregon, and a promise to return someday — a photo of your packed up apartment, a cat lounging in the mid-morning sun atop your U-Haul, a thickly packed bagel with one for the road written across the top corner in an Instagram font you used almost too heavily during your days as a sorority girl hoping to reach prospective sisters.

And a selfie of you and Minghao, who had flown out from Boston to help you make the drive back home. Your heads were touching, his long hair ruffled against yours as you both winked at the camera, holding up to-go cups of hot tea and coffee — which you never liked, even if it was winter.

You ignored the shirtless photos on his profile.

"Have you decided where you want to go? So I can dress for the occasion." You called from your bathroom, having turned the curling wand off and opening the door to relieve some of the warmth you felt all over your face. You slipped out, seeing Seokmin staring at your wall of trinkets. Little clown figurines made by an Oregon artist that were grouped with Nyota and Skullpanda figurines you'd gotten in blind boxes, a couple of framed photos of you and Mingyu as kids, a snowglobe with a picture of you and your mother in it when Mingyu and your father got stuck in New Jersey during your senior year of high school.

"Uh, there's a nice place in Madison, if you don't mind the drive. Plus the potential traffic, it is a Friday." He nods, "just wear a dress? Maybe a long one?"

"Gotcha, yep."

You rooted around and found a long dress you'd worn back in California once for a Christmas dinner with your boyfriend during grad school. It had off-the-shoulder long sleeves, and a skirt that stopped at the ground with the right pair of shoes (read: your favorite pair of black heels.) You scurried around, grabbing your shoes and nibbling your lip at the slit that ran high up your thigh in the dark red fabric in the mirror of your vanity.

It felt a little…derivative.

You put your jewelry on, swiping on a creamy layer of lipstick before grabbing your purse and switching things around to your clutch. Your winter coat was in the hall closet, and you held your heels in one hand as you exited your bedroom hurriedly. Seokmin glanced over his shoulder from the pinned tour posters on your wall, turning around fully as you fixed your hair in the mirror that hung on your wall.

"Is this okay?" You ask, not bothering to look at him as you wiped the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, perfect. You look great…and we're running late." He teased, making you groan as you look at him in the mirror, "you told me to take my time!"

"I didn't think that meant forty minutes, sweetheart. Hop to, or we'll miss our reservation." He taps his watch, "where do you keep your coat?"

"Hall closet," you sit at a chair in your dining room, bending at the waist to pull on your shoes as he ducks past. He returns with your coat and a red mark on his forehead, a pout on his lip as you look up from your shoes, "what happened?"

"Your box of photo albums fell on me. How did you not hear that?" He whines, and you coo as you let him help you slip your coat on. Your fingers gently rub at the spot, "you'll be okay."

"Yeah, easy for you to say." He huffs, and you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to your fingers before patting them against his forehead.

"Yeah, it is. Now, move along."

The drive to Madison was slow, but the restaurant he chose had been well worth it. You were sat at a rounded booth in the back, the lights dim and the environment cozy with soft jazz playing overhead. The waiter was sweet, but a bit too flirty for your taste — and clearly for Seokmin's as well, because he pulled you closer to him by your waist, his fingers lingering on your hip long enough for the waiter to see as he brought your drinks from the bar.

Dinner was relatively fun. Soft conversations, bringing up old memories, catching up on things. Seokmin asked about your psychology degree, you asked about his sudden move to Rutgers.

"Home isn't as fun without having a neighbor girl to bother." He stated, shrugging his shoulders as you gave him a deadpan look. He swiped a scallop off your plate then, making you scowl because you were not going to take a bite of his steak. "Plus, it was quiet. Madison is nice but Jersey was new and exciting. I roomed with Mingyu, Minghao and our friend Wonwoo, and it was fun until I would come back to one of their rooms with a sock on the door."

"Ew, I don't want to know about their adventures. I got enough with Hao complaining about his boyfriend wanting them to move to New York. Something, something, is the sex not filthy enough that he wants to move to Manhattan?" You scrunched your nose, making him laugh as you crossed your legs at the knee. Your dress splayed open, your thigh exposed to the warm air of the restaurant and the soft fabric of Seokmin's pants.

He didn't bother looking down, only tapping your knee before pulling the fabric over it.

"They're going to end up moving. Junhui has a hold on Minghao that you wouldn't believe. You would love him." He nods, "I helped Junhui plan the proposal."

Your eyes widened at that, and Seokmin swore you into secrecy before spilling the beans of your childhood friend potentially getting engaged before the end of the year.

Dinner came and went, dessert was sweet on your tongues despite the dark chocolate and Seokmin pouting when you had the last bite. You kept talking — your families, how shitty the holidays are as you get older and lose the childlike wonder of Santa Claus and gifts under the tree, girlfriends, boyfriends…

Your jaw tight as he mentioned his, his tight when you mentioned yours and a frown gracing his lips when you mentioned the Oregon boyfriend in particular.

"Well, he sucks." Seokmin clicked his tongue as he held the door open, the receipt blowing in the wind between his fingers. He'd fought you to pay the bill, shoving his card in the waiter's hand as he pinned you to your seat with a hand on your thigh.

A move that neither of you spoke about but both knew it could've created something neither of you were too sure you'd dislike. Not that either of you knew the other felt the same about the latter, but it wasn't your business to know.

Not yet, anyway.

The drive back is comfortable. You took AUX as he drove, complimented the recently refurbished bench seat of his truck. He smiles, says he also helped your mother get her '69 Cadillac get a beautiful new layer of that cobalt blue paint she loves. He prompts you to sit closer, and you end up resting your head on his shoulder with his hand low on your hip as you drive back into Pleasant Hill.

He's warm. He smells floral, like iris and neroli with a hint of cedarwood. He's drumming his fingers against you, running his hand slightly up and down your hip as you watch the sky become clearer the further you get into your small town.

He feels like home.

"Did you miss me while I was gone?" You ask suddenly as he rolls to a stop at a red light just half a block before your apartment complex. He raises a brow, looking down at you with an amused expression.

"You think I didn't?" "I wouldn't be asking."

"Of course I missed you, Y/N." He shakes his head, subconsciouly squeezing your hip. "I left Pleasant Hill because I missed you. I came back because I missed you."

"Or because my brother asked you to." "Your brother is the closest thing I get to you, so you have to give me some credit. Hallway crushes don't disappear as easily as I thought, especially not after you kiss her on prom night."

Your cheeks burn as the light turns green, your hand on his knee tracing circles as he presses on the gas.

"It's been ten years since then, Seokmin." "No, it's been nineteen. I've liked you since I was ten years old."

Your eyes widen as he pulls into your apartment complex, expertly slipping into a shaded parking space. He turns the car off as you look up at him, "you should head inside. It's late and you'll need your rest to finish unpacking."

"Mingyu's coming in the morning to help me." You murmur, and he nods simply, "he always was a nice guy. He's making long distance work with Tzuyu."

"Seokmin." "Yes?"

"Are you going to keep talking about my brother or are you going to kiss me?" The words slip from your mouth as easily as they did ten years ago, but he doesn't bother responding before he presses his lips to yours. Soft, smooth but hungry as he pulls you on top of him, his hand wrapping around your neck and holding you firmly in place. Your hands pulled at his sweater, shoving it up as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He let go of your neck, shoving your coat off your shoulders as you sucked on the tip of his tongue, your fingertips toying with the buckle of his belt before he pulled back.

"We can't." "We can." "Mingyu—"

"You came up for a nightcap and helped me unpack. Too drunk to drive home and spent the night on my couch." You unbuckle his belt as he groans, his hands eagerly pulling at the slit of your dress to expose your thighs. His fingers are warm as they slide up the plush flesh, squeezing shamelessly as you pull his belt through the loops and toss it to the side, "not embarrassed about your little collections anymore?"

"What I do with my Maxim subscription is between me and the comfort of my bedroom." "Better read than Playboy, eh?" "With the same beautiful women. Are you going to Prom Night me or what, Seokmin?"

"We're using that as an adjective now? Prom Night-ing?" He huffs, your lips parting with a soft gasp as lithe fingers squeeze the swell of your ass over the lace of your underwear. "I wasn't going to take your virginity in a car."

"Well, someone else has that shit now, and we did it on a fraternity beanbag." "I don't want to hear about that. The guys you've been with didn't deserve you in the first place."

"Then prove you deserve me more than they did." You whisper against his lips, "and it'll be like it never happened. Just you, just me. Yours, and mine."

He sits for a moment, his eyes boring into yours as he slides his hands over your hips carefully. He kneads the soft skin between his fingers, nibbling on his lip as his thumb toys with the hem of your panties before plucking at it.

"What if you regret it?" "Seokmin, we've had a thing for one another for the last nineteen years. We're as cliché as they come. Probably down to the ring and the house and the kids, if you want them."

He blinks, nodding slowly as he clicks his tongue.

"You think Mingyu knows?" "Are we going to keep talking about my brother?"

He presses his lips to yours, a mumble of no slipping out as he pulls you higher on his lap. Your fingers undo his pants easily, the sound of the zipper catching his attention as your hand dips beneath the fabric of his boxers to palm at his cock. His fingers immediately slip between your legs, pulling the embarrassingly damp fabric of your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb. Your thighs tighten around his hand, your gasp swallowed by his lips before you pull away, letting him kiss down the expanse of your neck and littering the soft skin with nips of his teeth.

His fingers slip lower as your thumb swipes over the leaking head of his cock, shaky breaths falling from your lips as he circles your entrance with his fingertips before pushing in slowly. He sighs against your chest at the wet sound of your cunt swallowing his fingers, a whimpered groan falling from your lips into his shoulder.

"Seokmin, we s-should—" "We should go upstairs."

It's a tumble to get out of the car, his pants hastily buttoned and your fingers shaking as you try to unlock the door. He pushes it open from behind you, shoving it closed with his foot once you both step inside and pinning you against it. He pulls your coat off as he kisses you desperately, throwing the coat over a bunch of boxes labeled bedroom before his hands wrap around your thighs and lift you up. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, the kiss turning to teeth and tongue as he carries you in the direction of your bedroom.

"I could worship you for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough to deserve you." He mumbles against your lips as he nudges the bedroom door open, your cheeks heating as he sets you on the edge of your bed gently. He pushes you back against it, kissing you carefully — a total switch up that makes your head spin as he cups your face with one hand, his knee slotting between your thighs as you move to lean back on your elbows. "I would've waited ten more years if it meant you'd come back to me."

"Seokmin," you pout against his mouth, only for him to kiss you chastely before his hands move to gather the fabric of your dress at your hips. You sit up, letting him pull the dress over you and toss it across the room before his hands slid down your sides. His eyes don't make you feel self conscious as they trail over you, his fingers hooking with the waistband of your panties and easily pulling them down your thighs. He shamelessly tucks them into his pocket, smiling inwardly as he kisses your parted lips.

"You're a pervert." "You're beautiful." "Well don't be nice to me, it ruins the purpose."

"It's banter, gorgeous." He trails his lips down your jaw, making your skin prickle as his hands spread your thighs. He traces a path down your chest, murmuring soft praises as he kisses each of your nipples before kissing down your soft belly, his hands massaging the muscle of your thighs as he spread them further. He drags his lips across your hips, peering up at you through his lashes as he litters kisses on the inside of your thighs, kneeling at the edge of your bed.

"Seokmin." "Patience." "I waited ten years, isn't that enough?"

He raises a brow, sinking his teeth into your skin and making you flinch, before quickly running his tongue over the mark.

"I waited ten years, too, you know." He says pointedly, his lips ghosting over your clit before he presses an open mouthed kiss to it. Your thighs twitch around his head as he pulls you closer to his face, "I spent the entire week fucking my hand, thinking about you in that little skirt at the grocery store."

He doesn't let you reply, opting to slip his tongue between your folds in long, languid strokes — gathering your arousal in his mouth before swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit. Your spine arches off the bed as he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your hand carding through his hair and giving it a harsh tug as soft pants fall from your lips. His fingers slide down your thigh, prodding at your entrance gently before sinking in carefully, your thighs closing around his head as he works you over with his tongue. Your mewled moans of his name fill the air, your hips rutting against his face earning nothing but hums and curls of his fingers as he finds that spongy spot that makes your legs tremble around his head. Your heels dig into his shoulders as the wet sound of your cunt around his fingers hits your ears, your cheeks burning hot as the coil in your belly snaps with a whimper from your lips.

You can feel him smile against your skin, the smug bastard.

"Did so well for me, honey." He whispers against your thigh, his fingers slipping out of you slowly and circling your clit. Your skin prickles as you jerk away from him, closing your legs around his hand as he catches your ankle before it hits him, using it as leverage to pull you flush against the tent in his pants. "You can give me another, can't you? Just one more, baby."

He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses up your calf, his fingers still tracing circles on your clit as you squirm. He kisses the side of your foot, his teeth tugging at the strap of your heel around your ankle to grab your attention.

"One more." "On your cock." "Whatever you want, baby."

He slips his hand out from between your thighs to shuck his sweater off, tossing it somewhere in the room before reaching into his back pocket and pulling his wallet out — procuring a gold foil packet between his fingers. You sit up, rolling your eyes as you pluck it from his hand, flicking it across the room before pulling him closer to you and kissing the bulge in his pants. Your fingers unbutton them swiftly, mouthing at his cock over his boxers.

His hand drops his wallet as your fingers curl around the waistband, his own raking through your hair as your spit soaks through the fabric before you pull them down his thighs. Your hands circle the muscle, digging your nails into the side as you lick the tip of leaking precum. He bites down on his lip as take him deeper in your mouth, peering up at him through your lashes as the tip hits the back of your throat. You sink slightly further, your nose brushing his lower stomach as he groans, gathering your hair in his hand asyour hand slides up his thigh, cupping his balls as you slowly bob your head up and down his length. You pull off briefly with a soft gasp, lips swollen as you kiss his shaft before he pulls you away gently.

"Later," he whispers, bending to press a kiss to your spitslick lips. "Lie back, baby."

"Seok—" "Later, I promise."

You pout but do as you're told, leaning back on your elbows as he kicks off his pants, toeing off his shoes before you reach to undo your heels — only for him to grab your ankle and pull your leg away from you, "leave them on."

"Freak."

He doesn't reply, only smiling inwardly as he spreads your thighs for him, your cunt still glistening with his spit and your cum. He wraps his hand around himself, sliding the thick head of his cock through your slick folds with a soft moan. You rut your hips up, begging for any kind of friction when he pins you to the mattress, "be patient."

"Fuck me." "I am."

"You're taking your sweet ti—" Your sentence is cut off by his cock sinking inside you slowly, a smirk playing on his lips as your eyes flutter shut. He holds your thighs apart, his eyes trained on the way your cunt sucks in him, his lips parted as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your breathing is shallow as he presses his chin to his chest, the low light of your bedroom light showing off all the soft contours of his body as your fingres itch to touch him.

He leans forward, brushing a kiss to your lips as your hands slide up his arms, digging your nails into his shoulders as he gives a tentative roll of his hips. A punctuated fuck falls from your lips, making him trail wet, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat. His hand snakes between you, thumb finding your clit and pressing against it hard as he rocks into you with a barely controlled pace that settles the idea in your brain that he wants you just as bad as you want him.

"Feel so good, baby," he whines into your neck, his hips meeting yours with hard thrusts that make your breath hitch in your throat. "Such a good girl, yeah? Say you're mine."

"'M yours," your voice is hardly steady as you can taste the embarrasingly close end on the back of your tongue, your limbs fuzzy as you drag your nails down his back. He shivers, your walls clamping around him as he drags his lips down your neck, holding your knees tight to your chest as he swirls his tongue over one of your nipples. You thrust your chest up, your back bent in half as his cock drags deliciously in your spasming walls as you stave off your orgasm. "Want to you cum inside me, p-please."

"Please, huh? My baby's so polite…" he kisses back up your chest, dragging his tongue up the slope of your neck before his teeth tug at your earlobe. "You're mine, right? My girl. Mine."

You nod with a soft whine, your orgasm ripping through you and making your body feel hot as he spills inside you. Your fingernails are digging into his biceps, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucks you through it, your thighs shake around his waist, his hands quickly sliding over them and squeezing the soft flesh. Your skin is slick with sweat as he kisses down your chest, "you did so good for me, baby. So good."

You drape an arm over your eyes, embarrassment coating your cheeks in warmth as he carefully undoes the strap of your heels without pulling out. You feel his fingers gently circle the reddened dip of the straps, massaging the spot as you clench around him. He jerks in response, making you gasp as you close your legs as much as you can with him holding your ankles. He's still hard inside you, his hands pulling your ankles together over one shoulder and giving a slow roll of his hips; your hand darting out to push his hip away.

"S-Seokmin—" "Just one more. You can do it, I know you can."

Your hand on his hip slides off, "slow. I mean it."

"Whatever my girl wants." "You." "You have me, baby."

"And you're mine, too?" You peer up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he nods, stopping his movements to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. You scrunch it, pursing your lips for a kiss. He obliges, speaking against your lips.

"I'm yours, Y/N."

IT'S VERY OBVIOUS THAT NEITHER OF YOU REALLY STUCK TO THE STORY THAT SEOKMIN GOT DRUNK AND COULDN'T DRIVE HOME.

You're twenty-eight years old, sitting on your couch with your twenty-nine year old (newly pronounced) boyfriend as your brother (unfortunately, also his best friend) screams like a husky wanting out of the house. He goes on and on about the integrity of a promise — apparently, Mingyu did know that Seokmin had the hots for you way back when, and made him swear he would never make a move on you. It doesn't help that you and Seokmin both spill the beans at the same time about how the two of you almost slept together the night of your prom — making Mingyu rub his face in embarrassment as he paces in front of you both.

"Fine, fine! Whatever!" He exclaims, throwing his arms up in defeat. "You win! Just don't ruin my sister's life and I won't fucking kill you."

You chew on your lip, shifting in your brother's old, paint-stained t-shirt as he huffs, crossing his arms on his chest.

"So you're not mad at me, right, Gyu?" You murmur, and Seokmin immediately scoots closer to you, tucking you into his chest as your older brother sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, it's not like I didn't expect this." He mutters, "neither of you are very good at keeping your feelings a secret."

"Then why are you over here yelling like a banshee?" You ask, and he sighs again, crouching next to your coffee table.

"Because you're my sister. It's my job to embarrass you and also yell at any of my friends that think they have a chance with you." He says pointedly, before looking at Seokmin. "I mean it. She was gone for ten years, and if I lose her again I'm killing you. The grave will be a ditch in Appalachia and no one will ever find your fucking body."

Mingyu didn't stay to help unpack, instead handing the task over to Seokmin with the label of it being 'to prove he was worthy of being with you.' He left with a kiss to the side of your head and a sniff at Seokmin, stalking out of your apartment and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

"…He wouldn't actually, would he?" "No, I'm pretty sure he would. It's the could that I'm skeptical about, Mingyu can't even go hunting."

Seokmin snorted, laying back on the couch and pulling you on top of him with a soft brush of his lips to your cheek.

"Well, he doesn't have to worry about it. After all, I could spend the rest of my life worshipping you and it still wouldn't be enough."

You think it just might be.

Oh, you’re about to be devastatingly mad. You want to throw the trash bin across the pantry, curse at the manager, maybe even consider resigning on the spot.

But did you?

Obviously not. Moment of weakness, as we speak.

Two hours earlier.

…

Work-life balance? Don’t know her.

Your life had been mundane as usual, and honestly, you didn’t mind that. You just wished your corporate life would stop trying to actively ruin it. Ever since the new CEO took over the man who stepped in after his father—you weren’t sure what to think of him. What you did know was that the company had been overworking its employees nonstop.

You wouldn’t even complain if they at least upgraded the cafeteria menu.

The new caterer didn’t seem to care about repeating the same dishes over and over to the point that one of your coworkers ended up with a stomachache. Not to mention the coffee drip machine sucked. Like, genuinely sucked. Thousand-dime company, yet they never bothered to upgrade the damn coffee machine.

No one wanted to drink that brown liquid. You’d rather dehydrate than willingly swallow it.

Since then, most people have started going out for lunch. Some just kept working through it, to the point of developing gastritis or borderline malnutrition.

But not you.

You refused to starve yourself.

Your mother always said: never be stingy with money when it comes to food. Money comes and goes.

That’s what she said.

Nothing beats a home-cooked meal. You’d choose that over takeout any day, unless you were really busy.

Just in time, it was finally lunch.

You had been anticipating this. Your lunch. Your heavenly five-star meal that you poured your whole heart into this morning.

Heck, you didn’t even eat breakfast. Just that cheap black coffee from the café downstairs.

Today’s packed treasure? A hamburg steak with a molten cheese filling in the center, paired with soft, fluffy rice.

You didn’t forget the fiber either broccoli and roasted potatoes to balance the meal. You swore nothing beat homemade meat: freshly ground beef, breadcrumbs, and spices that actually made sense together.

You’d like to think you’re very good at pounding meat.

The mental image of that juicy steak, gravy cascading over the top and soaking into white rice, made your stomach growl loudly.

God, you couldn’t wait to devour the whole thing. It was your self-reward after hours of sitting in your office chair to the point your ass might permanently imprint into it.

Sure, you couldn’t eat it fresh off the stove but at least the microwave here was more competent than the company’s infrastructure.

With a small, happy hum, you walked to the pantry fridge.

Around this time, the shelves were usually emptier. Only one or two transparent containers remained, so spotting yours should’ve been easy, the pink lunchbox. Your trusted Tupperware.

Of course your food deserved the best of the best. Duh.

You picked it up.

And immediately, something felt… off.

There was a sauce stain around the lid. And now that you thought about it somehow felt lighter than it had that morning.

You frowned but didn’t overthink it.

Until you opened it.

Your steak was…

Gone.

Like, all gone.

Your thick, juicy steak. Your fluffy rice. Your vegetables drowned lovingly in gravy.

Vanished.

Your stomach growled again as you blinked down at the empty container.

You weren’t just hungry. You were starving.

A small, devastated wail almost slipped out of you.

How could someone steal another person’s lunch? That was straight-up cruel. There was absolutely no excuse to think someone needed it more than you.

If anything, you needed it the most.

Because you deserved it. After all the prep. The early alarm. The effort.

You inhaled slowly, trying to be rational.

It would be wildly unprofessional for someone from the PR team to crash out over stolen food. So fine. You’d handle this professionally.

You pulled out your phone and speed-dialed HR. It was important to keep essential contacts ready. That’s what Seungkwan always said.

The call connected.

“Hello, this is Hyunsuk from Human Resources,” a flat voice answered. “How may I help you?”

“Hi, Hyunsuk. I’d like to report a theft.”

“Okay,” he replied. “What was stolen?”

You didn’t hesitate. “My lunch.”

There was a brief pause.

“Was it during company hours or on company property?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot compensate for your loss.”

You frowned. “I don’t want compensation, Hyunsuk.”

You swore you could hear him sigh. “An employee’s lunch is considered personal property.”

“Yes, but isn’t it concerning that theft is happening on company grounds?”

“We have cases like this happen very often,” he said. “The company is not responsible for them.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“If you have anything else to report, please send an email,” he cut in. “My lunch break is starting.”

The line went dead.

Hyunsuk hung up.

You stared at your phone in disbelief. “…But my hamburg steak…”

Your eye twitched.

He just said it happens often.

Then do something about it?

“Whatever. Nobody even likes Hyunsuk.”

In fact, you weren’t sure he liked anyone at all.

With nothing else you could do, you begrudgingly poured yourself a lukewarm cup of coffee and returned to your desk with empty stomach, extra caffeine, and a growing vendetta.

The next day, you decided to let it go.

Okay, maybe you were being too forgiving. But hey, you were just hangry yesterday. Surely it was a one-time thing.

Still, the way Hyunsuk said these “theft incidents” happened often baffled you. As if they were normalizing it.

Like, what’s even the function of all those security cameras around the office?

If they can draw a hard line on “no inappropriate office activities,” then surely they can give justice to your stolen lunch too.

Crazy.

The last time people went into the pantry, they literally saw used condoms in the bin. Goodness gracious, as if the toilet didn’t exist. You’d rather not walk past and hear… unwanted noises either.

You did consider writing a company-wide email and CC’ing everyone. After all, who the hell knew who ate your lunch?

You refused to take this as egg-ceptance.

…Maybe not yet.

Despite yesterday’s tragedy, you still brought your lunch today.

After all, you made mapo tofu. And you were not backing down.

How did you make it again?

Oh, right.

Sichuan peppercorns.

While you weren’t a huge fan of overly spicy food, the spice of life played an important role in cooking. You could never forget the nose-numbing aroma of roasted Sichuan pepper. The thick red oil from the fermented bean paste. The firm, bouncy cubes of tofu holding heat so intense it transcended taste buds.

The Mapo Tofu.

You paired it with plain white rice but nothing could overpower the fragrance of chili oil and peppercorns.

It reminded you of that business trip, when Minghao introduced you to mala hotpot and a whole new universe of Chinese spices. You even brought souvenirs back, mostly seasonings to experiment with.

Bless him and his encyclopedic knowledge.

But today’s version?

Different.

Just in case, you doubled the heat. Twice the ground peppercorn. Extra chili flakes. A spice level too powerful for the mortal tongue.

Right before sealing the lid, you sprinkled a little more pepper.

If anyone dared to open your lunch, a red powdery explosion would await them.

Maybe you did this on purpose.

If they stole it again, you hoped their ass would explode in the toilet like that scene in White Chicks.

Serves them right.

…

Lunch break came.

You approached the fridge like a soldier returning to war.

You prayed the thief hadn’t struck again.

But the moment you picked up your Tupperware, the weight or lack of it—felt ominous.

You opened it and found it was already gone.

Again.

Empty.

But how? Why?

First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, who the hell devoured that hellishly spicy mapo tofu? Surely their stomach would declare war soon.

And third…

What. The. Fuck.

Who was this food-crazed glutton?

“…Wait,” you muttered to yourself. “If someone ate my super spicy Sichuan mapo tofu, their lips should be bright red right now!”

You didn’t hesitate.

Within the remaining minutes of your break, you scanned the entire floor like a detective on a mission.

Red lips. Red lips. Red lips.

But to no avail.

Your pepper-kissed burglar was nowhere to be found.

Much to your annoyance, there were simply too many employees in this company. Half of them wore bold red lipstick anyway. You couldn’t tell if it was spice-induced inflammation or just cosmetics.

You didn’t care.

You just wanted the rat-stealing-food burglar.

It was almost time to go home but unfortunately, a major project was in peak season. Several departments had to stay for overtime.

Including yours.

No one liked overtime.

Sure, you got paid. But was it worth it?

Maybe you should start your own business one day. Open a brunch café. Lower stress. Maybe finally use your bachelor’s degree properly.

You sighed.

Seokmin had given you a small box of macarons earlier after seeing the fury on your face but you hadn’t eaten them. You refused to fill your stomach with pity sweets. Too busy drowning in despair and caffeine as you typed aggressively at your keyboard.

The loud clacking and flipping of papers earned you a few glances.

You didn’t care.

Your food had been stolen. Twice.

Why should you care about their peace when they didn’t care about yours?

Fair is fair.

Eventually, you brushed it off and went downstairs to the convenience store before returning to the office. Instant noodles and sausages.

How classic.

You weren’t alone though.

There was a guy sitting a few seats away. Still in work clothes. His blazer hung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled just above his elbows. He was eating two cups of buldak ramen, the spicy kind.

It reminded you of your Sichuan mapo tofu.

You felt like you were mourning a loss.

And for some reason, you caught a faint scent of pepper clinging to his suit.

Maybe you were imagining it.

People had been avoiding you all day anyway, some even spraying air freshener after you walked past.

Still, you kept glancing at him.

Was it common for two people to coincidentally crave spicy food on the same day? Watching him slurp down two buldak ramens made your stomach twist.

Noticing your stare, he paused.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned to you. “You got some staring problem?”

His voice was deep and calm but the tone carried an edge.

“What?”

“I said,” he continued, face still stoic, cheeks slightly puffed with noodles, “got some staring problem? I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Now it was your turn to feel offended.

You almost apologized earlier. Good thing that you didn’t.

This guy is insufferable.

Judging by his face alone, of course he was. The only good thing about him was his face. And unfortunately, the bad thing was also his face. What a waste of something that pretty.

You couldn’t help but hope there was at least one imperfect thing about him. Maybe his personality was rotten. Maybe he snored. Maybe—

Whatever.

You just hoped his dick is ugly. Then again, no dick is ever pretty anyway.

“Rude…” you muttered under your breath before returning to your convenience-store “meal.”

After a while, you finished dinner and headed back into the company building, americano in hand.

And much to your surprise—

The guy was there too.

Walking in the same direction.

For a second, you almost thought he was a creep.

And then came the real disappointment.

He fucking worked here.

You nearly lost it on the spot.

Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? People in this company were either painfully dull, aggressively gray, or casually insufferable. If you were lucky, you’d meet someone with a decent moral compass.

Rare species.

Standing in the same elevator as him didn’t help. You had a talent for meeting the worst people at the worst possible times.

What’s new?

Still, you caught it again.

That scent. It was faint now but familiar.

The lingering peppery aroma. The same one from your stolen mapo tofu.

Okay. Maybe you were slightly unhinged, grieving over lost lunch.

But still.

You sniffed subtly and shifted a little closer.

The man frowned at you like you’d just malfunctioned.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he said flatly, “if you want to fuck me, you could just say so.”

You blinked.

Excuse me?

Oh, you would absolutely fuck him up alright but that was a different story.

He was insufferable. And irritating him suddenly felt therapeutic.

You scoffed and stepped back into your space.

“You have your entire life to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Why not take today off?”

Now it was his turn to look at you properly.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he replied calmly, “but I’m guessing it’s difficult to pronounce.”

Oh, he was annoying.

“If I wanted to hear from an asshole,” you said sweetly, “I’d fart.”

There was a brief silence.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

He genuinely looked like he was calculating whether you were capable of doing it.

The elevator doors slid open.

You stepped out first.

“See you not later, Mr. Hodenkobold.”

He looked like he was about to fire back but the doors closed before he could.

For once, it felt nice to rage-bait someone else.

Especially after your lunch had been stolen.

So you decided.

For the next two days, you were going to catch the rat-stealing-lunch and end this once and for all.

For a brief, dangerous second, you did consider rat poison. But the thought of going to jail?

Absolutely not.

As tempting as it was, you couldn’t risk it. You had a baby to feed back at your studio apartment.

Your cat.

While you were suffering over your stolen gourmet lunches, your cat—Wonton, the name you lovingly gave her, was happily eating premium-grade cat food.

It was unfair. Really.

So you came up with a plan.

This time, you packed a cute bento-themed lunchbox: omelet nori rolls and rice balls.

Except—

They were made of wax.

Yes. Wax.

You followed a YouTube tutorial. Styrofoam base. Acrylic paint for texture. You even added gloss to make it look freshly glazed. Turns out, you had raw talent for this.

It looked absolutely gouda. An egg-cellent fake lunchbox.

You were certain the food stealer was souper hungry right now.

Okay. You really needed to stop hanging out with Seokmin and his endless food puns.

You even added a faint pepper scent to make it smell convincing. Surely no one was dumb enough to fall for fake food.

…Right?

But if they did? It would be hilarious.

…

When you returned at lunch break and opened the lid, you froze.

“….”

There was one—no, two chunks missing.

A bite taken out of the fake omelet.

You blinked.

What kind of unhinged human gluttony was this?

You couldn’t brie-lieve it.

They actually ate the wax.

The next day, you switched tactics.

You made curry fish head, rich curry paste blooming in oil, coconut milk thickening the broth just the way you liked it. You had to thank Minghao again for that Southeast Asia culinary expedition.

This time?

Untouched.

The container was slightly shifted, the lid smudged but the food remained intact.

You assumed the thief wasn’t a seafood fan.

Or maybe allergic.

That theory lasted exactly twenty-four hours.

The following day, you packed creamy rosé pasta with shrimp and clams. Garnished with basil. Sprinkled with oregano. And, of course, little octopus-shaped cocktail sausages.

For insurance, you taped a note to the lid:

🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇩‌🇴‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇴‌🇺‌🇨‌🇭‌. 🇮‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇱‌🇱‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌. 🇧‌🇴‌🇳‌ 🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌é🇹‌🇮‌🇹‌, 🇲‌🇫‌.

You stuck it firmly on top of your Tupperware.

Surely this would intimidate them.

Surely.

...

You returned during lunch break and immediately noticed the note had slipped to the floor.

You picked it up.

Your handwriting stared back at you.

And underneath—

🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇩‌🇴‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇴‌🇺‌🇨‌🇭‌. 🇮‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇱‌🇱‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌. 🇧‌🇴‌🇳‌ 🇦‌🇵‌🇵‌é🇹‌🇮‌🇹‌, 🇲‌🇫‌. "𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘"

You stared at it in disbelief at the bold, neat handwriting.

Slowly, you lifted the paper then tore it to shreds with your teeth, pure rage simmering in your veins.

The audacity must be on clearance sale.

When you opened the container, your jaw tightened.

Your pasta? Gone. The noodles devoured and the octopus-shaped sausages? Missing.

The shrimp and clams?

Only to be left behind.

Oh.

So they weren’t allergic.

They were picky.

You clenched your jaw, saliva dampening the dry paper as it scraped against your tongue. “Wow. Tasty, indeed,” you mocked under your breath.

This needs to end now.

You honestly need to lock the fuck in this time, to catch that rat-stealing-food burglar. You just hoped they stepped on dog shit today, that both their pillows smelled horrible, and that they’d have the worst fucking nightmare the moment they woke up.

“Hey,” Seokmin approached you with Soonyoung beside him. “Rice to meet you today.” He greeted cheerily, but the moment he noticed your moody face, he faltered. “Okay… berry sorry for that.”

Both of them leaned against the railings beside you. Soonyoung offered you a lollipop. You needed that so much instead of lighting up tobacco, which you’d quit back in your college days.

“Is it about the lunch stealing again?” he asked. “I carrot believe that person’s kept the stealing streak going this far.”

You gave him a look. It seemed like Seokmin had rubbed off on him with all those food puns.

He raised his hands in surrender. “In my defense, I’m feeling saucy today. It’s alright, we can grab dinner after this—my treat, of course.” Soonyoung tried to reassure you, knowing how furious you get when your food gets stolen.

“Yeah, let’s meat up for dinner!” Seokmin chimed in, making you roll your eyes.

Wait.

That’s it.

You have to meet that fucking rat-stealer face to face.

...

This time, you made your well-crafted most scrumptious, katsu sandwich. Cut in halves, three thick slices stacked neatly inside your Chiikawa-pattern container. Minghao had given it to you after his business trip to Japan, and you gladly accepted it since the cartoon was trending everywhere lately.

You liked the yellow rabbit character. It reminded you of yourself because he’s a big back.

Just like you.

Anyway.

You were not about to let your lunch get taken away this time.

And this time, you were going to protect it like it mattered more than your own life. For the sake of your health insurance, you tried not to pounce on that food burglar.

You were not about to let your money, sweat, and time go to waste again.

Now that you think about it, you probably should’ve shown up ten minutes earlier before catching the culprit.

Standing from your seat, you headed toward the office pantry and peeked inside.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Someone was hunching over the fridge, hand hovering over the transparent containers then toward your Chiikawa lunchbox.

“Hm, this is new…” he murmured. “…and tacky.”

Excuse me?

You weren’t about to back down when someone literally mocked your precious lunchbox pattern. So what? You liked when your mom packed your food in a Hello Kitty container with those little fruit picks shaped like cat ears.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention. He jumped slightly, straightening up.

“Isn’t it too early for lunch break?” you asked, slowly approaching him, arms crossed.

He blinked.

It was the same four-eyed dude who inhaled two fire spicy bowl ramens the other day. You almost scoffed.

“You again,” he echoed. “And who are you?”

He still stood there, relaxed like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Me?” you repeated nonchalantly. “I’m not that important. Rather, why don’t we start with you, buddy.”

He looked like he didn’t want to continue this conversation. Probably hoping you’d leave.

Fine.

You indulged him for a moment and gave your name. When he finally replied, you learned his.

Jeon fucking Wonwoo.

You plastered a smile on your face. He turned away, ignoring you. The two of you just stood there for a few tense seconds.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked, sounding impatient.

“How’s that coffee?” you shot back, blatantly ignoring his question.

Wonwoo frowned, more like bristled at it, as if offended.

“Why would I drink that slimy brown liquid?” he said. “Don’t tell me… you drink that thing?”

“It’s not that bad,” you shrugged.

(It absolutely sucks.)

He chuckled, clearly mocking you. “You sound like you hate yourself.”

Oh, he’s so cocky.

Three days. Three days you’ve suffered because of this stealing bitch.

“Actually…” you stepped closer. “What did you do these past few days?”

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Why? It’s a workweek. What else would I be doing?”

You weren’t buying it. “Do you always come to the pantry this often?”

“…I mean, I have to eat,” he replied like it was obvious. “Of course I come here.”

“Wow, me too!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “I have an idea—why don’t we eat together then?”

That made him falter.

He suddenly looked uneasy at your smile. Like you were plotting something.

“…No, thank you. I prefer eating alone. Now can you leave?”

“Why not?” You stepped closer, almost chest to chest even though he was much taller.

He stiffened but tried to maintain composure, clearing his throat before a grin slowly spread across his face.

“I see. If you wanted me so much, you shouldn’t have thrown yourself at me like that,” he chuckled lowly, eyes dragging down your figure. “All you had to do was ask.”

Your smile dropped instantly and stepped back.

You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. That smug look made you want to chop off all his limbs.

“Oh, don’t lose that smile,” he tutted. “I’d rather think that mouth could do better. Maybe you’d be my cup of tea. Either way, it’s cheesed to meet you, Miss ____.”

Hell nah.

You were not backing down either.

Smiling sweetly, you replied, “You know what else my mouth could do, Mr. Jeon?”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Hurt your feelings. I think dildo is a perfectly acceptable insult. I’d call you a dick—but you’re not real enough.”

That caught him off guard.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

For the first time, Jeon Wonwoo didn’t know what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” you smiled. “Or maybe my words are true—your dick isn’t that real.”

His eyes darkened as he stepped forward.

“Watch it. Say that again and I’ll put that mouth to good use.”

And then—

A sudden loud gasp from behind.

Both of you turned toward the doorway to see Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung frozen in place, hands dramatically covering their mouths.

“You heard that, guys?!” Seungkwan gasped. “What the fudge—she was about to get dicked down!”

Seokmin clutched Soonyoung’s arm. “Look at them pudding up against each other! They’re both nuts!”

“That’s tea-rrific,” Soonyoung added, “but whisk I’m willing to take for a pear like this!”

“GET OUT OF HERE!” you and Wonwoo barked simultaneously.

In the end, you shared your katsu sandwich with him.

Somehow, it turned into a mutual rant session about Hyunsuk. No one likes him anyway. Glad you’re both on the same boat.

He ended up taking you to dine at a downtown French bistro. Claimed it was “compensation.” Not that you were entirely forgiving about it.

You learned he works in the legal department. Recently promoted. Employee of the Month. Overworked to death.

“So, do you not have a life then?” you asked, noticing he’d loosened two buttons of his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He’s handsome.

Annoyingly attractive.

If only he’d shut up.

But again, no attractive person should be forgiven for food stealing. Especially your lunch.

“I did,” he said, sipping his wine. “Until they put me to work.”

You nodded slowly. Then circled back.

“You could’ve just ordered takeaway. Why my lunch?”

He grinned, leaning back. “Why? Your lunch, of course. Yours is the best I’ve tasted so far.”

The audacity.

Rich in audacity. Poor manners.

“So… what would you like to order?” the waiter asked.

“Right. Food.” Wonwoo skimmed the menu.

“What do you recommend?” you asked.

He hummed, closing the menu and looking directly at you. “Anything that tastes good.”

Your throat dried slightly. Maybe you’re imagining things.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Meat.”

Silence.

“…Okay. I’ll just get ratatouille.”

“But that’s all vegetables.”

“Shut up, meathead.”

The waiter coughed. “How cooked would you like your steak, sir?”

Wonwoo was still looking at you.

“Make it medium rare. And make it two,” you smiled. “I’d like a piece of meat too.”

The waiter jolted and left immediately.

“How long have you been stealing?” you circled back.

He sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean to do that—well, that was until I met you.”

“M-me?”

“Your lunch.”

Oh.

“I don’t like takeaways. I used to live with my roommate, Mingyu. He cooked for both of us until I moved into my own apartment,” he said. “And I can’t cook for shit.”

“Can tell,” you replied smoothly. “Your personality is probably as shitty as your cooking.”

He glared.

You smiled.

“Watch that,” he warned. “I’m definitely putting that smart mouth to good use—”

“Shut up. Save it for later. I’m not riding that fake dick.”

“…”

Silence.

You took a sip of wine, scanning the dim lights of the restaurant. Fine dining. Expensive plates. His salary was probably double yours anyway.

“Here’s the deal,” you said. “Stop eating my lunch. That’s it.”

He considered. “Fine. I’ll pay for your groceries. How about that?”

“Nah.”

Wonwoo frowned, fingers lacing together. “Okay, I’m sorry. But I really don’t like the dripping coffee machine. And the cafeteria sucks. And I hate that the caterer keeps slipping her phone number onto my tray.”

“All I ate were ham and cream cheese bagels,” he continued. “Depressing, I know.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed. “Why not? For an attention whore like you, I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“She’s married. With five kids.”

“….”

Okay. Fair enough.

“Alright,” you sighed. “I’ll bite.”

His eyes lit up.

He almost reached across the table, close to your hand then thought better of it and grabbed the napkins instead.

“Can I go to your place after this?” he asked suddenly.

You nearly choked on your wine. “Excuse me? Aren’t we going too fast?”

“To inspect your goods,” he deadpanned. “Your fridge.”

Yeah.

He’s definitely messing with you.

You did let him come back to your studio apartment, after all the groceries were paid for by him, of course. In return, you taught him how to make the katsu sandwich he’d been annoyingly edging about all night.

And yes, it turns out he really doesn’t like seafood. Wonwoo said it upsets his stomach, and once was enough for him to swear it off forever.

You set the groceries aside just as your cat greeted you, weaving around your ankles while you washed your hands, Wonwoo hovering awkwardly behind you.

Your place was cozy. Very you, he thought.

“Who’s this little companion?” he asked, crouching down to pet your white Persian cat. “Got a name?” He glanced up at you, finally noticing the frilly apron you were wearing.

“Wonton,” you said, peeling onions as you passed him another apron, this one reading Kiss the Cook.

He slipped it over his head without complaint. “That’s funny. Do you have a food phase or something?”

Now that you thought about it… yeah. 

“Yeah. I got dumpling takeaway that night, and she was inside the box when she was still a kitten. So I named her Wonton.”

The rest of the time, you walked him through each step carefully.

“So,” he said casually, “how often do you pound the meat?”

Silence.

You looked up.

He looked back, utterly oblivious. “The fried chicken sandwich yesterday was delectable.”

“Not much,” you muttered, going back to chopping potatoes. “Other than salty food—do you like sweets?”

He hummed while dipping the meat into egg batter and breadcrumbs. “Not really to be exact. I had it during a business trip in Europe. I don’t remember what it’s called. Something like… quickie?”

Your knife froze mid-chop.

“…Quiche,” you corrected. “It’s called quiche, Wonwoo.”

His face lit up, nodding like he’d just learned a new word.

For a moment, you wondered if he was messing with you but the genuine reaction told you otherwise.

“Are you messing with me?”

He blinked. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t push it. It was pointless.

“Why can’t you cook?” you asked instead, lowering the coated meat into hot oil.

“Well, there’s this thing called ‘I just don’t,’” he said. “I once almost ate half-burnt scrambled eggs and decided never again.”

You scoffed. “It costs nothing to be kind with your words, you know.”

“Some days it costs me my fucking sanity, honey,” he shot back, eyes sharp.

Which would’ve been intimidating if he weren’t wearing that Kiss the Cook apron.

Your mom was right. There’s nothing romantic about cooking together. Move the fuck away.

“You know what?” you said. “Let’s split up to cover more ground. I’ll go left, and you go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he grinned. “Just don’t ogle me when I pound my meat. I’d know myself for the whole course of the meal.”

He’s so hot. If only he shut up.

“Calling yourself a meal when you’ve had an STD?” you said, setting the fried cutlet aside. “Okay, food poisoning.”

He frowned. “I’d have you know I’m very healthy and clean. So you’re safe.”

“No one said I’d fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly,” you replied. “But after we finish this, I’ll have my way with you later.”

“…..”

“So,” he said, scanning your apartment. “You live like this while working at a million-dollar company?”

“I live alone,” you shrugged, cutting the sandwich in half and handing it to him. “No reason for a big place. I do need a spacious kitchen, though.”

He nodded, biting into it. “Fair. What about a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have time for that.”

“It’s alright,” you added. “At least I get to rest on weekends. What about you? Hobbies?”

He hummed. “I dissociate. I play games. And lately, my bed is the only thing calling me.”

“Oh,” you said. “Then… hookups?”

He leaned closer, smirking. “Are you offering?”

“Hell no,” you said immediately. “I don’t have the energy.”

“For what?”

You gestured at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Half of your personality is just symptoms.”

“Your mom.”

“My mom passed away four years ago,” he said simply.

Well. That rhymed.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed. “…Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” he said, finishing his sandwich. “It’s been a while. I still miss her.”

Another quiet beat.

“So…” you said carefully, “wanna catch up on Bridgerton?”

...

That night, you both sat on the couch with a noticeable gap between you, a cushion clutched to your chest like a shield.

The room was dim, lit only by the TV. Surprisingly, he was fully invested in Bridgerton. What was supposed to be one episode turned into a full marathon.

For some reason, it felt intimate.

Jeon Wonwoo, your coworker. The man who stole your lunch for a week. Also, the cause of your suffering.

Insufferable. Infuriating. Hot as fuck.

It would be a lie to say you’d never found him attractive. Well, except for that foul mouth. Not that you were any better.

The problem with this show was the sex scenes.

You’d completely forgotten how many there were.

Every time one came on, you felt the urge to skip it but Wonwoo didn’t move. He watched with the same unreadable expression, completely composed like poker-faced.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking inside his head.

Another scene started.

Just great.

You were very aware of how you shifted slightly, how your fingers tightened around the cushion, how your knees pressed together. The small breath you exhaled without meaning to.

The couch shifted.

He turned his head toward you.

He definitely noticed and yet, he said nothing. That somehow made it worse.

Because he remembered the way you talked to him.

The insults. The degradation. The way you never backed down.

Fuck.

Maybe that’s what did it.

Maybe Jeon Wonwoo was turned on by the way you spoke to him like you weren’t afraid.

“Do you want to make out and make noises?” he asked suddenly, looking at you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked.

For a moment, your brain short-circuited.

Then you thought: when else are you going to get the chance to make out with a disgustingly attractive man like this?

Exactly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you muttered, dropping the cushion before swinging a leg over his lap.

“Hell yeah,” he breathed.

His hands found your hips instantly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It was messy. Almost clumsy at first, teeth knocking, breaths uneven but it quickly deepened. His mouth moved slowly against yours, deliberate now. One hand slid up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth without meaning to.

Your body pressed closer.

He let out a low groan, restrained but it vibrated against your lips. You could feel his hardness pressed against yours, and it’s big.

When his tongue brushed yours, it wasn’t rushed. It was slow and intentional. Like he was testing how much you’d let him have.

You were already giving too much.

Time blurred.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to breathe. A thin string of saliva caught in the dim light before breaking.

He looked up at you, and whatever was in his eyes now wasn’t smugness.

It was hunger.

Like he hadn’t had enough.

His head leaned closer until the tip of his nose brushed yours as he murmured, “…I want you,” he breathed. “Please. I need to have you tonight.”

Your heart pounded at the sound of his voice. The way his ragged breath fanned against your lips.

His hand wandered, softly caressing your back before sliding lower to grip your ass, making you jump slightly.

He grinned at your reaction. “Is that a yes?” he chuckled lowly, squeezing more firmly this time, drawing a gasp from you as your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders.

“Cute,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your lips before looking up at you again. “…I need that pretty mouth of yours working now, since you’ve been such a smartass with me the whole time.”

Something about his piercing gaze made the heat pool low in your stomach. God, his commanding voice alone was enough to make you melt like chocolate left out too long under the sun.

You’re not a masochist, of course.

His thumb traced slowly over your lips before pressing gently, parting them as he slid the pad of his thumb just inside. His voice dropped.

“Get on your knees. Now.”

Did you listen? Hell yeah.

“Normally, I wouldn’t get on my knees for a man, but here I am,” you muttered as you moved between his thighs, while he spread his legs slightly, working at his belt and the sleek pants he’d worn earlier to dinner.

“I’m flattered to be the first man,” he chuckled. You could see the damp, slight pre-cum stain against his boxer. Then pulling the underwear down to reveal his shaft.

Giving a few pumps as he strokes his dick, groaning as his head goes over the couch. “Fuck, now go make use of that pretty mouth, baby.”

You breathe out, seeing that shafts make you hesitate a bit. Okay, that was a real dick; you take that back for insulting and calling his stupid dick fake.

Slowly wrapping your delicate hands around his shaft, you glance up to see his head thrown over the couch as you give a kiss on the tip of his cockhead.

His breath hitched as he watched you kneel between his legs, those soft  eyes looking up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination. The sight alone made his cock throb harder in your gentle grip.

"Fuck..." he breathed out, his head tilting back against the couch cushion as he felt your lips brush against his sensitive tip.

His fingers instinctively tangled in your long wavy brown hair, not pulling but just... holding on. Grounding himself. The way your hands wrapped around his shaft made him stroke himself slower, more deliberately, letting you set the pace.

"You're so fucking pretty like this," he murmured, his voice rough and low as he watched your every move. "But you know what... I don't want your hands right now."

He gently guided your head down, his cock pressing against your lips as he guided you to take him in. Not all at once, he didn't want to make you gag or feel uncomfortable. Just... enough to feel you.

"Mmm... that's it," he groaned softly, his other hand moving to cup the back of your head possessively. "Use that pretty mouth of yours now. I want to hear from you."

His hips gave a subtle thrust, not demanding but encouraging. His eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the wet sounds filling the room.

"Christ... you're incredible," he breathed, his thumb stroking along your jawline tenderly despite the rough situation.

You stiffen slightly, feeling his whole length around your mouth. Slowly making your jaw work as you bobbed your head, sucking him good.

He stopped you mid-blowjob, pulling you up by your waist with surprising strength. The way you were panting, lips swollen from worshipping his cock, made him nearly lose control entirely.

"Fuck... you look so good like this," he growled, his voice strained as he guided you toward the bed.

Setting you down gently on the mattress, he immediately followed, positioning himself between your thighs. His hands pushed your skirt up slowly, deliberately, savoring how exposed you were for him.

"Shit…" he breathed, his eyes darkening as he stared at your glistening core. "So fucking wet for me already."

Without hesitation, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately seeking out your clit. The taste of you made him groan against your sensitive flesh.

"Mmm... fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate circles. "Let me eat you properly before I take you."

His fingers gripped your thighs gently but firmly, spreading you wider as he feasted on you with renewed focus, determined to make you come on his tongue first.

You gasped sharply, your palm flying to your mouth, feeling his mouth dive in like a starved man. He knows exactly what you need to push you over the edge. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. 

He laughs against your core, feeling your fingers tangle in his hair. It made him groan with satisfaction. The way your body trembled beneath his mouth, your gasps growing louder.

It was fucking intoxicating.

He continues to lap on your cunt, wanting you to come undone by his tongue. He could feel you’re coming close as he works closer and closer to the edge. His fingers thrust in and out of you, over and over again.

“Fuck— you’re so close already,” he murmured against your soaked folds, his tongue working faster now. “Let go baby, let me taste it.”

You could feel your orgasm coming closer as he kept pumping into you. When you finally came, his fingers still pumping inside you, he felt your walls clench around him rhythmically. The sight of you completely undone, head thrown back as pleasure washed over you— it made him nearly lose control too.

You swore you almost saw stars and later, he was going to make you see the entire fucking galaxy once he was inside you.

“God, you look so beautiful like this,” he breathed, slowly pulling his fingers out of you with a soft, wet sound. “So fucking beautiful when you let go.”

You gave him a weak tap, blinking as you tried to catch your breath. God, you hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Or maybe no one had ever made you feel this good.

“Hold up—” you breathed meekly. “Let me… catch my… fucking hell…”

It was embarrassing to let him see you like this. Kind of pathetic, honestly, to get so worked up just from being eaten out.

Wonwoo chuckled, settling himself between your thighs as he looked down at you, almost menacingly. “Take your time, sweet pea. I’m not done with you yet.”

Then, surprisingly, he said something reasonable. “Just to make sure—give me a safe word.”

You blinked, finally propping yourself up on your elbows against the mattress as you considered it.

“Strawberry,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Make it shorter. Do you think you can say that before I pound you like dough?”

You huffed. “Cherry, then.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned in to kiss you again but stopped midway. “I don’t have condoms, though…”

And you weren’t on pills. You couldn’t blame him. No one had expected this to happen.

You checked the drawer beside your bed. It had probably been sitting there for two years, back when you never expected there’d be a man in your life again.

When you handed it to him, he bristled, letting out a laugh and flashing a cocky grin. “This isn’t my size, sugarplum. It’s alright—I’ll pull out immediately,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple then running his hands along your curves possessively.

He sheathed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, yet something raw, almost vulnerable flickered across his expression.

“I’m clean,” he murmured, his voice more serious now. “And I’ve never done this without protection before. So… yeah.” His gaze softened just slightly. “I’m trusting you, too.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling himself positioned at your entrance, his cock pressing against your wet heat. His thumbs framed your face, cradling it gently.

“Tell me you want this,” he said softly, eyes searching yours. “Tell me you want me inside you bare.” His hips gave a small thrust, just teasing waiting for your answer.

Almost cussing out at him for purposely made you feel this way, you breathe out almost pleadingly despite your bite. “...you asshole, stop playing—” you sharply inhaled when he thrusted his cock inside you.

He felt you gasp as he pushed inside, his cock stretching you open slowly. 

Fucking hell.

The way you clenched around him immediately made him grit his teeth, might as well come inside you at this point.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, his hands moving to grip your hips. “So tight…fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He didn’t slam in, he took his time, letting you adjust to him. The way your walls squeezed him rhythmically was almost too much, but he forced himself to stay controlled.

And you—you never felt so fucking amazing right now. You think you might ascend to heaven. Eyes rolling over with your grip tightens on the sheets.

“Still with me, sweet pea?” he asked, voice strained as he hilted himself completely inside you.

You nodded slowly at him, murmured softly, “...yeah…you can move faster now.”

His fingers dug into your skin slightly, not quite bruising but definitely holding on tight. Breath hitched when you finally gave him permission, that single nod making his control slip dangerously. The way your walls were already clenching around him was driving him insane.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed out, hips already starting to move. He pulled back slowly, feeling every inch of you squeeze around him then thrust forward with more purpose. The wet sounds of your tangled bodies filled the room.

Your poor cat, Wonton, is already scurrying away somewhere.

He could feel your body trembling beneath him, and it made something possessive ignite in him. He wanted every gasp, every moan and every shudder of pleasure entirely for himself.

His thrusts became faster, more desperate as his breath came in harsh pants against your neck. “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded softly, one hand moving to cup your chin, fracking you to look at him. "Tell me when you’re close.”

His cock throbbed inside you, pre-cum leaking out but he was determined to make this last. To make you feel as good as you made him feel earlier with that perfect, needy mouth.

“You’re killing me,” he admitted breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. “But I’m not pulling out until I see you completely destroyed…”

...on my cock.” you heard him finished, his voice thick with need.

God, you can’t even talk properly with him. Did he just fucked you this good?

His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp. The change in rhythm was almost punishing— harder, faster and deeper. Each thrust he gave, sent pleasure spiraling through your waves, making your toes curl and your visions blur.

“Fuck…fuck— Wonwoo! You cried out, back arching off the bed slightly as he drove into you relentlessly.

One of his hands moved from your hip to your hair, fisting it rough;y and tilting your head back. His lips crashed against yours in a desperate, messy kiss that tasted like desperation and need.

“Say my name while I fuck you.” He demanded between kisses, his other hand moving to your throat, just barely pressing, not choking but claiming.

“Wonwoo!” you sobbed into the kiss, voice breaking.

It was all too much. His mouth on yours, hands on you and the way he was fucking you like he wanted to imprint himself on your very soul. Your orgasm built faster than you could handle, climbing higher and higher until you were breathless and dizzy.

“I’m—oh god— I’m—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clamping down around him.

He felt you come, your body shaking and clenching around his cock, and it was his undoing. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside then immediately pulled out as he promised. His remains spilled on your stomach, giving a few last pumps as he stays there.

“Fuck… fuck…” he breathed against your neck, his body collapsing onto yours as aftershocks rippled through both of you.

You stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled, your body slowly growing heavy with exhaustion.

But goddamn. That was the best sex you’d ever had.

(You’d only had, like, two back in school, but whatever.)

Just when you thought he was finished, he lifted his head and looked down at you before finally shrugging off the dress shirt that had been hanging open. He pulled it over his broad shoulders, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the lean muscle beneath.

God, you silently thanked the heavens for giving you an asshole that looked like him.

Grinning cockily, he hovered over you, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. “Oh, I’m not done yet, honeybun. That was just the appetizer. We still have the full course and dessert.”

Okay, maybe you should’ve bought the condoms and pills when you were grocery shopping with him.

“Now strip bare before I devour you for real.” He smacked your ass and squeezed, making you yelp.

The rest was history.

The next morning. Thank heavens it was Saturday. You would not have survived this if it were Monday and a workweek.

You fumbled beneath the comforter, still half-asleep. Then it hit you.

You’d been dicked down by the most insufferable, food-thieving man alive.

Slowly, you sat up, immediately feeling the soreness between your thighs.

Thanks a lot to that bastard for bottoming you out so good.

And you loved every single second of it.

Noticing the empty space beside you, your gaze drifted across the room—only to find him in nothing but his boxers, crouched beside Wonton, your cat. It looked like he’d already fed her.

Wow.

The sight of him watching your cat eat was almost… innocent.

Was that really the same person who pounded you like a beast last night?

Whatever.

You looked down and realized you were wearing his dress shirt. He probably cleaned you up before you passed out.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the kitchen. You were starving, might as well whip something up.

He noticed you rummaging through the fridge and followed after you.

“Morning,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist as you worked at the counter. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Me,” you joked.

He immediately groped your chest, making you yelp as you slapped his hands away.

He didn’t look sorry at all. “You said it. I’m just taking what I want,” he grinned against your ear, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Let’s get married,” he suddenly said. “I need you for a lifetime.”

You hummed thoughtfully while whisking the pancake batter. “For what? The food or the sex?”

“Both,” he confirmed easily. “I already paid for the groceries. I’m basically your wallet at this point. Marry me and you get both—my dick and my money.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

His arms tightened around you as he added, “Then I can finally fuck you without using those damn condoms and pills.”

That made you turn to look at him, eyebrow raised as he flashed that stupidly annoying grin.

“Was that a threat?”

“A promise,” he corrected. “We’d make a great pear. And I wouldn’t mind putting a few little peanuts in you.”

He nuzzled your nape like an oversized cat.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” he said smoothly. “I’m nuts for you, sweetie pie.”

Since that day, you kept seeing Wonwoo during lunch breaks at work.

With a price, of course. The lunch arrangement.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but notice the change in his personality. Well… he’d been a lot nicer lately.

And it scared the shit out of you.

You’d rather have him insufferable as always, wearing that stupid cocky grin.

Okay, maybe not. That was too annoying. You weren’t sure you could restrain your fist from connecting with his majestic face.

“Have you been sitting in all that sugar you bake with? Because you’ve got a sweet butt,” Wonwoo suddenly said.

A loud crash echoed through the kitchen as you dropped the baking tray in your hands, staring at him in horror.

Noticing your mortified expression, he took a step back. “Sorry. Too forward?”

He’d been crashing at your place again, insisting on driving you home as an excuse to spend more time together.

“Have you been laying in sugar, sweetheart?” he tried again. “Because you’re looking pretty sweet. Is that better?” he asked, almost apologetically.

You honestly didn’t know what to say, setting the meatloaf aside.

“I mean…” you started slowly, “…you always smack my ass whenever you get the chance, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it when I’m about to get into the passenger seat.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I think all of you are sweet, really.” Then he added, “I can tell your parents were bakers—they’d have to be to make a cutie pie like you.”

You blinked, finally turning to look at him. “…Well, my mom was a baker. And my brother owns a café, so yeah. Technically.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, momentarily dropping the act. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“You never asked,” you replied simply, waving him off. “By the way, what’s with all these cheesy pick-up lines? Where did you even learn them?”

Completely ignoring your question, he continued, “Are you bread? Because you’re the loaf of my life.”

Your lips twitched. “Okay, now you’re up to something. Did you lose a bet?”

“I think I’ve got cavities, because you’re too sweet.”

You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter in your pink frilly apron. “If you’re trying to seduce me into baking cookies, you could’ve just asked.”

“I don’t know about cookies,” he shot back smoothly, “but you and I would bake a great couple.”

Your smile widened as you pushed off the counter and slowly walked toward him. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

He audibly gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you approach.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he continued weakly. “Because you’re hot.”

You let out a soft giggle, stopping in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know if I’m scared of you or attracted to you.”

His hands naturally found your waist. “Marry me, please. Let me be your husband. I’ll take care of you… and our little peanut. Soon.” He nuzzled into your neck.

Smiling, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Won,” you murmured, “if you want something sweet, there’s plenty of sugar right here.”

You tapped your lips playfully. He didn’t hesitate before pressing his mouth to yours.

A moment later, you both pulled back, laughing and giggling like idiots, foreheads resting against each other.

“By the way,” you asked softly, “where did you even learn those pick-up lines?”

He paused, thinking for a second.

“Jeonghan,” he said simply.

Ah.

Of course.

You never liked him. Same department as Wonwoo…just more obnoxious.

He definitely put him up to this on purpose.

One thing you actually learned from your mother's advice that surprisingly worked was that the fastest way into a man’s heart was through his stomach.

Turns out, he stopped stealing your food. He found something sweeter to keep instead.

FIN.

A/N: once again, thanks a lot for staying until the end, apples!! finally we've come to the end. if you're interested in more of my fics, feel free to check my page and my masterlist, if any of you guys are interested include in my taglist, feel free to sign in the form link.

feedbacks and comments are appreciated!! (for future purposes, so that i will improve my writings more.) pls do support me if you found this entertaining! ˙𐃷˙ here

# profiles 1…

# profiles 2…

episode 1:

episode 1.1 [friendly fire]

episode 1.2 [on the tl]

episode 1.3 [dinner]

episode 1.4 [study date]

episode 1.5 [belt to ass]

episode 1.6 [mouf full of soju]

episode 1.7 [bricks for brain]

episode 1.8 [silly]

episode 1.9 [idiot]

episode 1.10 [break them up]

episode 1.11 [life insurance]

episode 1.12 [slutty waist]

episode 2:

episode 2.1 [that’s my girl]

episode 2.2 [yikes]

episode 2.3 [SIX SEVEN]

episode 2.4 [handsome fella]

episode 2.5 [welcome to the priv]

episode 2.6 [jihoon is suspended]

episode 2.7 [my love]

episode 2.8 [operation]

episode 2.9 [drive]

episode 2.10 [good reason]

bonus: episode 2.105 [obsession]

episode 2.11 [goodbye]

episode 2.12 [meet me in the parking lot]

episode 3:

episode 3.1 [dorm party]

episode 3.2 [middle man]

episode 3.3 [karma]

episode 3.4 [she found out]

episode 3.5 [bubbles]

episode 3.6 [cupid]

episode 3.7 [boyfriends]

episode 3.8 [wifi]

episode 3.9 [lowkey]

episode 3.10 [free]

episode 3.11 [finally]

episode 3.12 part 1 - [mine]

episode 3.12 part 2 - [mine]

"Yeah, well. You lived." You put your hands on your hips, your apron covered in powdered sugar and flour from a day's worth of trial and error baking. Listen, it wasn't your fault — your mother lied and said her daughter was a baker, and offered you up to bake two dozen Christmas cookies and decorated cupcakes. Like any procrastinator, you put it off until the day of; taking off an emergency PTO day and making Mingyu haul ass to get to your apartment and be your guinea pig.

You'd made the cookies from an old recipe your grandmother left, making him nibble on one while you mixed up cupcake batter from a box and threw in little sprinkle of cinnamon or nutmeg or whatever you found in the baking section of your local grocery store. You threw in a bunch of shit — Dutch-processed cococa powder (because a frantic woman from the store's cake section grabbed it before scurrying off), espresso powder (because you were sure you'd need coffee and who doesn't like a little mocha moment?) If you didn't manage the icing, for which you bought three big bags of powdered sugar — you'd bought six tubs of Pillsbury vanilla frosting and a piping bag.

Hey, if it ain't broke — don't fix it.

"Y/N…" he grimaced, smacking his lips together as his brows fixed in the middle. You groaned, draping yourself over the kitchen island as he reached around your head for his water bottle. "Honey, how do you manage to make it taste so bitter?"

"It says add lemon juice! I'm adding lemon juice!" You hold your phone up, and he takes it in his fingers as he swishes the water around his mouth before spitting it out in your kitchen sink. He shudders, forcing himself to look at the screen before looking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, this is for a glaze." "Glaze, buttercream, frosting. It's all the same, isn't it?" "No, it very much is not the same."

He rolls his eyes, and you sit up, glumly resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. There's flour everywhere and you can tell it's probably in your hair by the way he glances at it twice before biting back his smile.

"I never said I was a master baker." You mutter, "can you believe my mother said I was the 'crèmè de la crèmè'? More like crèmè de la fucking crap."

"You're being…too hard on yourself." He struggles to get the words out, and you're sure the bitter taste is still on his tongue as he reaches around you to break off a piece of the milk chocolate you'd snuck into the cart with the excuse of melting it down for a drizzle. He shoves the brick in his mouth, dusting his hands off before skirting around you. "We can figure something out."

"Don't speak with your mouth full." "You almost choked me out earlier, I can do what I want."

He rolls his eyes again, chewing silently as he analyzes the mess on your counter. He plucks another apron from the hook next to your fridge, pulling it over his head and tying the strings behind his back before grabbing a rag and wiping the counter down.

You try not to laugh at how small it is on him, but hey. Not your problem.

He moves things around as you let the pain of being on your feet for the last six hours settle into your hips, grimacing as you try and make yourself comfortable on the stiff stools of your kitchen island. You feel his hand pat the middle of your back as he walks around you, "it'll be fine. Just…never bake anything again. I'm surprised those cookies survived."

"Like you could do any better, Kim." "Who knows. I'm good at lots of things, I'm sure I can read a recipe…and are we forgetting I do this for a living?"

He speaks pointedly as he grabs the last bag of powdered sugar on your dining table, "clean up the island. You've got a mess of sugar in here and you'll get ants."

"You're lucky I love you." You grumble, sliding off the stool as he gives you an amused look, "love me? I doubt anyone who loves me would shove a spoon so far down my throat—"

"It's not my fault you have a gag reflex. Get good, bitch." You snip, turning your nose up at him as he laughs inwardly, using a pair of kitchen scissors to carefully cut open the bag. He leans it against your toaster as you swipe all the dirty dishes into your arms, dropping measuring cups and spoons into your sink.

"You…sit down. I'll do this." He wrinkles his nose, "I'll find another recipe, I'm not sure lemon glaze would bode well with all the dark chocolate in these cupcakes either."

"Oh, you're an angel, Kim Mingyu." You press a kiss to his shoulder, quickly pulling the apron off and making your way out of the kitchen before he hooks a finger in the collar of your t-shirt. You groan, letting him pull you back and point at the stool.

"Sit." "I'm not a dog." "Be a good girl and sit."

You scowl, swatting his arm as he snickers. He points at the stool again, and you're sure the words are lingering on his tongue as you let yourself plop into the seat with a frown on your lips. He opens his mouth, and you point a menacing finger at him, "shut the fuck up."

"You sure are feisty for someone who can't make buttercream." "We don't even know if you can make buttercream! Put your money where your mouth is and shut up."

You cross your arms, leaning on the island as he moves around almost expertly — you're not an envious person, you never have been. However, something about Mingyu's casual confidence as he sifts three and a half perfectly measured cups of powdered sugar, as he adds in an eyeballed amount of that Dutch-processed cocoa powder, as he sprinkles in the perfect amount of salt…you dislike it. You hate how comfortable he is in the kitchen as he switches bowls, as he adds the suddenly melted chocolate to your KitchenAid mixing bowl, as his fingers accidentally get coated in a layer of heavy cream because he looks away from the cup to look at the recipe on his phone…

You don't like the way your stomach flutters slightly.

You've never had a thing for Mingyu, let's get that clear. You and Mingyu have been friends since you were in preschool, so you'd seen him go through everything — you've seen the guy cry so hard he almost threw up over his first girlfriend breaking up with him in eighth grade, you've seen him get so plastered that he couldn't walk during your sophomore year of high school, you've seen him get into nasty fights in parking lots over things that a sweet guy like Mingyu would never get into. You tended his wounds, scolding him and letting him worm his way back into your good graces with a pout and those puppy eyes.

You've stood by him as he collected accolades for school, diplomas for degrees, promotions at work. You've even walked in on the guy twice — once with a girl, once by himself, and you just shrugged it off because that's what good friends do.

You and Mingyu were friends. Good friends, best friends.

Lifelong friends.

And with that, comes the realization that your friends can be attractive!

Tall, broad, sweet…smart…

You nibble on your lip anxiously as he keeps working quietly, reaching behind him and wiggling his fingers, "can you hand me the extract, please?"

You look around the island, grabbing the small brown bottle and brushing his fingers as you hand it to him. You pull your hand back almost too quickly, the bottle slipping from his fingers and landing in between your thighs. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, and he glances over his shoulder at you with a quizzical look, "jumpy, are you?"

"Whatever, Master Baker." "What does that say about you, masturba-" "I swear to God, I'll kick you out of my apartment."

"It wouldn't kill you to put a sock on the door," he snorts, shaking his head as he connects the paddle attachment after rinsing it off. His knuckles brush your thighs as he grabs the extract, and he taps your knee with his finger, "and I don't care if you live alone, I have a key."

"You can also knock before coming into my room," you grumble, kicking the back of his thigh lightly. He reaches back, grabbing your ankle with a warning look. "Sorry."

"You sure run your mouth a lot for someone who couldn't figure this out."

"I'm good at other things, better than you at most others." You roll your eyes, and he lets go of your ankle to turn on the mixer on low. He crosses his arms, leaning his back against the counter as it mixes the dry ingredients perfectly with the butter.

"Like what?" "Like…I'm better at puzzles than you are." "Bullshit."

"I am!" You argue, splaying your fingers and counting off things, "I'm better at puzzles, I'm better at riddles, I'm better at not gagging when things go in my mouth, you fucking loser."

He raises a brow, "what you and your mouth do are none of my business."

"Mingyu!" "Is that how you got that nickname in college? What was it?"

"Shut up," your cheeks burn, "that guy got the shit beat out of him, anyway. I still have no idea who did it."

The truth was, just as you've watched Mingyu go through life with his ups and downs — he's been just as present for your trials and tribulations. When you were in sixth grade and broke your leg during a soccer game in the rain, he sat in the back of the ambulance and held your hand the entire time. When you were a junior in high school and your parents told you you'd be having a little sister, Mingyu let you spend the night at his house while you grumbled about being made into a free babysitter — which hadn't really been the case, but he let you be dramatic as he tried not to snore into the Kuromi plush you'd won for him at the state fair earlier that year.

When you were a freshman in college and the first guy you ever hooked up with went around talking about you to anyone who would listen — eventually, word got back to Mingyu and his newly acquainted fraternity brothers, and you didn't show your face for weeks after until an unknown number sent you a message telling you he'd been taken care of and wouldn't be running his mouth about you anymore.

You still don't know who did it, and it happened six years ago. Mingyu never really brings it up unless you're both drunk and reminiscing about college, and he usually pulls you in for a hug and apologizes for not defending your honor. You always argue that him and his fraternity brothers walking you to and from class for the rest of the year and making sure you were never in any of your courses alone was defense enough, and the guy ended up getting expelled later that year for reasons you don't care to remember.

"Good, he fucking sucked." He shrugs, "why'd you agree to this, anyway? Your mom knows you're shit at baking."

"Yeah, well. She can't brag about my degree any more than she already does, can she? It takes months to see results with it, and baking is a shorter process than making art." You shrug, gesturing at the artwork on your kitchen wall. All handmade by you, and very appreciated by your mother — she had loads of it all over her office, even commissioning you to make gifts for her coworkers and actively very proud of you and all your achievements…but she admitted that when she heard that her coworker's son was a chef, she got a little green.

Though, it made you snicker when she talked you up instead of Mingyu — the same boy she babysat for ages and taught how to bake, who grew up with you and shoved you on the trampoline in your backyard, who actually grew up to be a chef.

Kim Mingyu, who once drunkenly said he'd marry you at the Mall of America when you both went to Minneapolis (despite your flight landing in Duluth and driving the two hours to Minneapolis because you hate landing at the MSP — there is too many damn stairs) for one of his work events.

Neither of you acknowledge that.

Neither of you would ever get married at the Mall of America, either. At least, not sober.

"She also can't talk up her daughter's best friend, because then it begs the question…" you wiggle your brows, making him scoff as he turns off the mixer, switching the attachments and pouring the heavy cream in. "When, they ask, is your talented, intelligent, gorgeous daughter going to marry that boy?"

"When she grows a second set of boobs and doesn't like alien tentacle porn." "Sounds like you're the one who might like alien tentacle porn."

"No, I like boobs." He says seriously, but the twitch of his lip forces you to swallow your laughter. "Plus, I've seen you vomit. It's not pretty."

"Me being pretty is just a plus to all my other defining qualities and you know it," you point a defensive finger at him as he turns the machine back on, carefully eyeing you before shaking his head, "nah. I'll give you the talented and intelligent…even if you can't figure out a frosting recipe."

"I'll fucking kill you." "Will you Google that, too?"

You throw an oven mitt at him, earning a chuckle as he catches it and throws it back. It narrowly misses your head, "you're a horrible friend."

"Y/N, if I tell you that you're pretty, you'll expect me to also compliment your crèmè de la crap baking. I just can't lie like that." He squeals as you land a smack to his arm, covering his face with his hands, "not my face! The world has never seen such beauty."

"I hate you!" "No, you love me and that's why I'm saving your ass again. Now, sit. And stop hitting me."

He huffs, shoving your shoulder lightly as you pout, slumping in the stool, "I could be laying in my bed right now."

"We both know that if I let you slip out of here, I'm doing all the work for free while you get to take credit and you get a hundred and twenty bucks. Not fair to me and my back already hurts from carrying this friendship." He tuts, turning his nose up at you as your jaw drops.

"You do not carry the friendship! You didn't even want to come over earlier when I called you!" "Because you were whining and moaning about going to the grocery store, and then got upset when I said I'd go without you."

"You should want to spend time with me! I hardly see you anymore," you grumble, crossing your arms on your chest as he coos.

"Aww, babygirl. Do you miss me?" "I'd rather die than miss you, and don't call me that. Reserve it for your shitty hookups."

"And they think we should get married." He rolls his eyes, turning the KitchenAid off and removing the whisk. He swipes his finger down one of the wires, gathering the light brown cream on his fingertip before holding it out to you, "open."

"Fuck no, I don't know where your hands have been." You scrunch your nose, and he gives you a deadpan look, "open your damn mouth, Y/N. All you do is run it, anyway."

You huff, grabbing his wrist and holding it still as you give his finger a kitten lick. You're almost angry at the sweetness coating your tongue, buttery smooth and you shove his hand away as a smug smirk crosses his lips.

"It's good, huh?" "Fuck you."

He snickers, licking the rest of it off before nodding, "not bad. Could be better. Here."

He holds the whisk attachment to you, and you take it with a frown on your lips, swiping the buttercream off with your finger and licking it off. He shakes his head, "no need to be so pouty, you know. You're good at other things, don't have to be good at everything."

"Except I am good at everything, you being here just throws off my vibes." You grouse, and he raises a brow, turning to you and caging you between his chest and the kitchen island. You furrow your brows at him, an amused look glazing his eyes as he tilts his head, "I'm throwing off your vibes?"

"Yes." "Okay, I'll entertain this. How am I throwing off your vibes, Y/N?"

"Well for starters, you look ridiculous in my apron." You say pointedly, gesturing at the lime green apron that Mingyu had gotten you as a gag gift when you'd asked him to help you learn a few simple dishes for a boyfriend you'd had — one that you ended up breaking up with because he said Mingyu was too close for his comfort. You'd laughed in his face and told him that if he thought he even came close to being the reason that your lifelong friendship with Mingyu ended, he had a big storm coming.

Safe to say, you only kept people around that liked Mingyu. A few of your exes even became your friends and were good friends of Mingyu through you — Wonwoo, Seungcheol, even your old high school boyfriend, Hansol.

It wasn't weird.

It wasn't, really. It was healthy and amicable and you introduced Wonwoo and Seungcheol to their current girlfriends, and Hansol was stuck doing some grad program in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with zero cellphone service and a slow mail carrier that delivered your letters and care packages months late.

"Okay, let's say I do. What else? Because you work in chaos, Y/N." He gestures at the mess of powdered sugar on the opposite counter, the butter wrappers, the juiced lemons that could've made perfectly good lemonade.

"I work in chaos but I get the damn thing done." "You didn't do shit."

"You offered to take over! Why would I ever take away your option at feeling useful in my kitchen, my dearest friend?" You feign distress, holding a hand to your chest as if there were pearls there. "Plus, your job as my best friend is to make my life easier."

"Or to call you on your shit." "Or, or…to make my life easier."

He just laughs, shaking his head as you run your tongue along the whisk with a shrug of your shoulders, "my name's Rufus and that's the trufus, Kim."

"You have buttercream all over your face." He chides, pulling the whisk away and swiping at your cheek with the pad of his thumb. He clicks his tongue, "this is why you use your fingers, Y/N."

"What can fingers do that a tongue can't?" You point the whisk at him, before rolling your eyes at the pointed look in his, "don't look at me like that. We're adults, we have sex. Well, I do. I don't know about you, Mr. Bitchless."

"You don't know what I get into, Miss Y/N." He rolls his eyes, pressing his thumb to your mouth. You stick your tongue out at him, shoving him uselessly with your foot as you swipe the buttercream off your lip, "not pussy, that's for sure."

"If I don't, it's your fault." He shrugs, and you're suddenly aware of how close he is to you. Soft cologne mixing with the sweet sugar scent permeating the air. Hands on either side of you, arms straining against the cream fabric of his waffle knit shirt.

"Careful, Kim. My mother hears you and she'll ask when we're buying the house and getting hitched." "Whenever she wants." "Mingyu."

He chuckles, "jokes aside, it's true. Every girl within a twenty-mile radius that has access to my social media thinks we're together. Even with your shitty captions and the way you make it a point to call me your best friend in your flirty comments."

"My comments are not flirty! I commented a skull emoji once and called you ugly, and fucking Jihoon asked me when the wedding was." You roll your eyes, "my hierarchy of needs consists of many things. Being better than you, knocking you down a few pegs and ensuring you get zero play because you're insufferable for days when you do."

"So me, me, and me." He smiles, and you tongue your cheek as you eye him.

"What are you getting at, Mingyu? Does our life-long friendship mean nothing to you?" "I think our life-long friendship should mean that you stop making me do this shit for you for free. I charge people for this, you know. It's my job, and your job as my best friend is to make my life easier. Give me a damn break from the kitchen, babe."

"Being my best friend and a chef for a living but you've never made me anything is diabolical. Consider this a test run for when you finally grace me with that five-star cooking, Chef Kim." You shrug, ignoring the surging heat at the stupid pet name— and he only shakes his head again as he moves to take the whisk, "don't finish it, I want some."

"Get your own." "This is my own, Y/N. I made it." "Yeah, well you gave it to me. You can eat what's left in the bowl after you frost the cupcakes."

"I am not frosting those damn cupcakes without payment, I don't work for free." He huffs as you lick the last remaining dollop of buttercream off the whisk. He pouts as you toss it over his shoulder, the metal clanging against your sink, "I just wanted a taste!"

You shrug, a mischievous smile playing on the corners of your lips, "then get one."

The air stills around you suddenly, your skin prickling as his thumb comes to swipe at the corner of your mouth again. He pulls at your lower lip, your eyes never leaving his as you flatten your tongue against the pad of his thumb. He pushes it gently, your lips wrapping around it as you lean slightly forward, your hands gripping the edge of the stool you're sitting on before he pulls his hand away.

The air is thick. His eyes are serious and you know your face probably isn't fairing better than the tinge of his ears. He glances around you, and you sigh before running a hand through your hair.

It's not supposed to be this way.

You are supposed to be the exception.

You are supposed to be his best friend that gets to give a toast at his wedding and you're supposed to be the exception, damn it — the one who doesn't fall for the guy, the one who doesn't make their life a cliché by letting the sweet traits of their puppy-eyed best friend worm themselves a Mingyu-shaped pocket in your heart.

"Have you ever considered it?" His voice breaks the tension first, and you clear your throat as your hands fist at the hem of your t-shirt.

"Us?" "Mhm."

"Once." Your cheeks are hot as you uselessly try to scoot back on your stool, the wooden covered entirely by the plush of your thighs as you run your hands over the rough denim fabric. "When, uh, when everything happened in college and you were out of town the day after."

"I didn't go out of town. I went to urgent care and then I camped out in my room for two weeks." He admitted, and your brows furrow, "what?"

"I went to urgent care. I fractured my fifth metacarpal or something like that." He shifts, his hands moving to fiddle with the chipping paint on the edge of the island. "That's why I came back with that blue splint and told you I slammed my fingers in the car door. And Minseo helped me cover up the bruises with her makeup kit."

You blink at him, his words settling in the back of your mind as you scan his face.

"Mingyu, you don't fight." "I don't, you're right."

Silence settles between you, the inches of space between your face and his warm as you peer at him through your lashes.

"Why did you?" "Because you're my best friend. It's the right thing to do." "He told a bunch of guys that I was a virgin and your answer was to beat the daylights out of him?"

"You always did say my muscles were for show." He rolls his eyes, "God forbid I use them for once."

"Mingyu." "What do you want me to say, Y/N? Did you expect me not to do anything?" "Mingyu, you broke the guy's nose."

"Could've done more but I was drunk." He grumbles, running a hand over his face before sighing, "this isn't the point. The point is that you're my best friend and I love you, so why would I let some idiot talk about you that way? That's your private and personal business, he's lucky he even got a chance to see you like that. It's about the principle."

"And I get that, but you got hurt—" "And it's not the first time, or the last time. So it's fine, Y/N. That's what we do, you know? You're my best friend and I'm yours."

"That wasn't the first time?" Your voice is quiet, and he shakes his head. "When was the first time?"

"That fight you broke up when we were in high school, the one in the parking lot." He sucks his teeth, "I don't want to talk about this."

"I do." "Well, I don't."

Your hand reaches out to touch his back as he turns around, your fingers untying the apron before pulling him back. He sighs, "what?"

"Why?" "Why what?" "Why'd you do it?"

"I already told you why. I love you. You're my best friend and I've seen you go through enough shit to have that piled on there, too." Something about his words feel unfinished. Like he's cutting himself off, like he's holding back and you can tell he is just by looking in his eyes. They weigh heavily, something swirling in the back as he glides them around your face.

"Then why did you ask—" "Because if you wanted it, I'd give it to you. Me. If you wanted me, I'd be yours."

Your throat feels dry, and he nibbles on his lip before he sighs, tugging your apron over his head and tossing it onto the island, "I'm sorry. I should go—"

You don't let him walk away, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and using it as leverage to plant your lips on his. He doesn't bother with niceties, his hands immediately finding your thighs and pulling your legs around his hips. His fingers squeeze the plush flesh, taking the opportunity of your parted lips to slip his tongue in your mouth. The taste of buttercream is faint on his tongue as he pulls you impossibly closer, his hands sliding up your hips with a grip so tight it's like he's scared you'll disappear.

"For the record," you pull away, breathless as he chases your lips, "I will not marry you at the fucking Mall of America."

"Oh, that's a given. I was just drunk and the Christmas tree was enormous, I was swindled by sparkly lights." He nods, leaning back into your lips before you cover his mouth with your hand, biting back your laughter.

"And I am not paying you. The buttercream is deflated, you're going to fix it and you're going to frost the cupcakes." He furrows his brows as you tighten your legs around his hips and drop your hand, "did you hear me? I'm not paying you."

"I don't work for free." "I'm not paying my best friend money to do me a favor."

"Favor for a favor, then. The barter system is still cool," he brushes his lips to yours, giving the corner a chaste kiss. You raise a brow, "I'm not washing your car in a bikini, that was a one-time thing and I only did it for the charity drive."

"You're no fun." He snorts, thumbing at your lower lip, "all you do is run this pretty mouth."

"I can do other things with my pretty mouth." You mutter, slotting your lips with his before he can form some stupid reply. Your hands on his shirt push the fabric up, your fingertips slipping beneath it to feel the warmth of his skin. You trail them down, hooking your finger on the belt loop of his jeans and tugging gently. His hands pull yours away from him, pinning them to your lap with one hand as the other cups your jaw.

"Not here." "I'd never sully my kitchen, have some faith." "That sorry excuse for frosting is certainly—"

"Do you want me to suck your dick or not?" Your voice holds feigned annoyance as you slip off the stool, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the kitchen. He swiftly (responsibly) turns off your kitchen light, flicking switches off as you guide him back to your bedroom — where he'd originally found you earlier that day, paired with a shriek that only proved he'd caught you in the middle of something that was between you and the stupid alien tentacle porn you didn't even like.

His fingers reach to pinch your ass shamelessly, making you squeal as you swat his hand away, pushing him closer to your bed. He tongues his cheek, sitting on the edge of the mattress and leaning back on his hands. You hate to admit the giddyness spreading in your lower belly wasn't strong enough to rival the heat coating your cheeks as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him.

His eyes are steady on yours, tilting his head as he reaches an arm forward raking his fingers through your hair. You lean into his touch, his hand sliding down the side of your face and cupping your jaw, his thumb toying with your lower lip as your hands slide up his thighs. They stop at his belt, fiddling with the buckle before you peer up at him through your lashes.

"What happens after?"

He hums, gently squeezing your cheeks as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he plants a wet kiss on your puckered lips. You scrunch your nose, raising slightly on your knees as he moves his hands to your hips, pulling you into his lap. His hands slip down your hips, thumbs hooking on your back belt loops before his fingertips tuck into your back pockets.

"I'm not sure about the lasting effects just yet," he shrugs, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck. He pulls you closer, "but I know that I want you. I know I think about you everyday…sometimes you're clothed, sometimes you're not."

"Sometimes, huh?" "That bikini drive really got me, I'm sorry." "That was two years ago, Gyu."

"God, I know." His hands shamelessly trail down your hips, cupping the swell of your ass in his large hands, "I snapped at anyone who mentioned it for at least a week after."

"You willingly drove your car there? You knew I was doing it?" You scoff out a laugh, and he shrugs.

"My car needed to be washed." "By girls in bikinis." "By you in a bikini. You owed me because I reshingled your mother's roof in the middle of fucking December."

You snort, "nothing is fucking free with you. You won't frost the cupcakes, you won't make the buttercream, you won't reshingle your mother-in-law's roof—"

"Shut up," he presses a kiss to your lips, sinking his teeth into your lower lip with a soft squeeze to your ass. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"She says that, man." "Don't call me man right now, I'm so hard it hurts." "I haven't even touched you."

"You smell nice," he slots your lips together in a chaste kiss. "You're warm…soft…I want you. I need you."

He doesn't let you reply, slipping his tongue into your mouth like he's done it a million times. You kiss him back eagerly, your stomach fluttering as he pins your hips to his, using the grip on your ass to rock you against him for some sort of relief. You'd never admit how quickly your underwear starts clinging to your lower lips, feeling the hard bulge of his cock through the thick denim of your jeans. You slip your arms from around his neck, pulling at the hem of your shirt and pulling up your body, briefly breaking the kiss to pull it over your head and toss it to the side before connecting your lips again.

One of Mingyu's hands slides up your back as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, plucking the clasp of your bra open and letting the straps slip down your shoulders. He pulls away from your lips, trailing down your jaw and letting his hands flick your bra somewhere across the room before he cups your tits, his thumbs swiping carefully over your nipples. Your cheeks feel warm as he peers up you through his lashes, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat.

"You know I don't just want you because of that, right?" "I know." "Do you?"

His teeth lightly scrape at your neck, your skin prickling with goosebumps as your hands fly to tug at his hair. He doesn't budge, nipping and sucking at the same spot as your hips grind down against his. He kisses down your shoulder, his fingers gently pinching your nipples and earning a soft whine as you push your chest into his hands.

"You're everything I could ever want." He murmurs against your skin, your hands moving his head back. His eyes are glassy as he peers up at you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. You lower your head slightly, kissing him carefully. You can feel him resist the urge to grind you down against his cock, his arms tense around your waist before he pulls away, his hand sliding to your soft belly as he speaks against your lips.

"Sweet, smart. Driven, talented, my parents like you…" His fingers trace patterns to the button of your jeans, snapping it open and pulling at the zipper, "beautiful. So beautiful, baby."

"How long?" "Too long. Eight years."

"God," you groan, rutting down against him as he grips your hips to stop you, kissing down your chest and taking a nipple in his mouth. You stifle a whimper, running a hand through your hair as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud. He holds you in place, your clit aching for some friction when he pulls off your breast as you pull at his shirt. He lets you pull it off him, your hands running greedily over the expanse of his honeyed skin as you kiss him hungrily.

Your fingernails drag lightly down his back and around his ribcage as you meet your hands at his belt buckle, tugging at it impatiently and pulling the belt through the loops. It lands on your bedroom floor with a jingle, your fingers prying his jeans open as he whines into your mouth, his hips rutting against your hand the moment you slip it into his boxers. He bites down on your lip softly, hissing as you swipe your thumb over the leaking tip.

"You're making a mess," you tease gently, his breathing heavy against your lips as you press chaste kisses to the corner of his mouth.

"Clean it up," he breathes out, his teeth nipping at your lower lip like he needs it to keep him sane, "please. God, touch me. Do something."

"Anything I want?" "Y/N, baby, please—" "Shh, shh. I got you."

You carefully slide off his lap, kissing down his chest before sinking onto your knees in front of him. You can't help yourself from swirling your tongue around the thick, leaking head of his cock, watching the way his hands grip your bedsheets with a broken groan. His skin is slick with sweat as you let the taste of him coat your tongue, your pussy clenching around nothing as you stroke him slowly. You drag your lips down his shaft, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses up the thick vein before running your tongue just under the tip. He bucks into your hand with a whimper, smearing his precum against your lips as you tap his cock against your tongue.

"So pretty, Mingyu," you peer up at him through your lashes, tapping his tip against your cheek as he squeezes his eyes shut at the sight, his fingers tightly gripping your bedsheets as you laugh. "So big, too. Will it fit?"

"Find out, make it fit," his hand cards through your hair as you flatten your tongue against him and lick a stripe up his length. His fingers tighten in your hair as you smile, pressing a kiss to the slit before wrapping your lips around him. You drop your hands, tucking them behind you as you take him deeper in your mouth, his eyes starry as your tongue laps at the underside. Saliva bubbles at the corners of your lips as you bob your head up and down in tune with the shallow thrusts of his hips.

He can't take his eyes off your lips, his own swollen from his teeth as he carefully gives a deeper roll of his hips. You let your eyes roll back as he hits the back of your throat, pulling a whimper from his throat as you swat his hands away, raising up on your knees and sinking down on him further, your nose brushing the button of his jeans as your eyes brimmed with tears.

You pull off quickly, taking a breath as strings of spit connect you to him as your hand wraps around the base and works him carefully. His knuckles brush your face, wiping spilled tears before you sink back down on his cock. He groans, throwing his head back as you watching the way his lower stomach flexes with every stroke. He gets louder, the room filling with his whimpers of your name before you feel his fingers snake back into your hair, wrapping it around his fist loosely as you swallowed around him.

"Fuck, fuck," his breath is choppy as he tries not to buck into your mouth, his hips betraying him as they twitch at the warmth of your mouth. "Baby—"

You sink down fully again, his hand holding you gently in place as he fucks his cock into your throat. You ignore the subtle ache in your jaw as you feel him twitch in the back of your tongue, his hand tightening in your hair as he spilled your release down your throat. He whines quietly as you look up at him through wet lashes, carefully pulling off his length but teasingly running your tongue along it, swirling it at the tip as he pulls your head away.

"Sorry—" You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, making him groan at the taste of himself on your lips. He eagerly licks into your mouth, his hands pulling you off your knees as your own shove your jeans down your hips and kick them off. You push him back gently, feeling his spit-slick cock against your thigh as you reach down and wrap your fingers around it.

"Fuck me." Your voice is raspy as it hits the air, his fingers gripping your hips as you angle him against your panty-clad cunt, the fabric soaked through with your arousal and begging to be ripped off. He kisses you hard as you move your underwear to the side, "please, please. Need it. Need you, Gyu."

"Shouldn't I—"

"No," you nip at his earlobe, his tip brushing against your clit, "want you to fuck me just like this. It'll fit. You'll make it fit, right? I'll be good, I promise."

His cheeks are flushed as you kiss down his neck messily, his hand reaching to position his tip right at your entrance. You whine quietly, rocking against it as you feel his hands tug at your underwear before you hear the fabric rip. He tosses it elsewhere, pulling you down on his cock in one smooth motion, tears pricking at your eyes at the stretch. You're straddling him, your hands pressed to the meat of his chest and digging your nails into it as you feel his hands knead the soft skin of your hips as you rock against his length, aching to soothe the ache between your legs.

"Shit, look at you," he mutters, "so fuckin' needy, hm?"

You nod limply, your neck and cheeks feeling hot as you hear the wet sound of your cunt eagerly swallowing his cock. He moves you carefully, muttered curses falling from his lips as you clench around him. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he sits up, and your bury your face in his neck, mouthing at the skin as he fucks you open slowly.

"So wet…this is just for me, right, baby?" He whispers in your ear, "making a mess all over cock, yeah? Making me yours?"

You nod shakily as you whimper into his neck, your pussy clamping around him like a vice as you try to meet his thrusts precisely. He holds you close to him, his bare arms sticking to your skin as his hands grab handfuls of your ass, "just y-yours."

"Can't talk your shit now, can you?" He coos, your nails digging into his shoulders as you sink your teeth into his skin. He only groans, burying his cock to the hilt and keeping you still, "thought you said you'd be good, hm? Where's my good girl?"

"M-Mingyu," you curse yourself for stammering, trying to grind down against him but his hold is firm, "please. I'm s-sorry."

You run your tongue over the marks of your teeth to soothe the skin, feeling his hand snake between you and his thumb press against your sensitive clit. You keen, trying to gain friction as he presses down hard, "be good and I'll let you cum."

"I w-will. I will, please." Tears prick at your eyes as your thighs tighten around his hips, only to feel him carefully wrap your legs around his waist as he pushes off the bed. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he kisses up your neck before laying you down on your back, barely pulling out of you to flip you on your belly. You reach your hand back for him, burying your face in your pillows as he kicks off his jeans before sinking back inside you with a swift pull of your hips onto him. His hand interlaces with yours, and he leans down to press a trail of kisses against your shoulder before nipping the side of your neck.

"So fucking pretty, baby." He whispers, his other hand splayed across your lower back as he gives a tentative roll of his hips. You push your ass back against him, his hand moving to squeeze it before landing a light smack against the soft flesh. "Look at you. Taking my cock so well, right? You're a good girl, hm?"

You can hardly speak, the feeling of his cock dragging perfectly against your walls making you feel fuzzy with pleasure, hitting that spongy spot with a precision you can't even name. You merely rock back against him, your fingers slipped between your thighs and touching him, rubbing circles into your clit. Soft pleads of harder falling from your lips as he obliges, his grip on your hip bruising as he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

"Perfect for me," he drags his lips down your neck, planting wet kisses down your shoulder, "perfect pussy, sucking me right in. Made for me. Mine."

"Yours," you whine out, the coil in your belly growing tighter as you let go of his hand to grip the sheets beneath you. "M'yours, Mingyu."

He doesn't get a chance to reply as the coil in your belly snaps, his own orgasm following within seconds. His hips stutter, flush against your ass as his breathing tries to grow steady, his hands squeezing your hips and thighs carefully as you groan, swatting back at his lower stomach.

"You're gonna make a mess," your voice is hoarse, almost too low for him to hear you but you don't bother complaining as he sinks to his knees behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as he flattens his tongue against your ruined cunt.

"You're my mess to clean up, anyway. Now hold still, baby."

YOUR MOTHER MADE YOU AND MINGYU STAY FOR HER OFFICE PARTY, YOUR BOYFRIEND BEING PINCHED AND COOED OVER AS YOU BOTH ADMITTED HE MADE THE BUTTERCREAM.

"I told you, honey." Your mother sidles up beside you as you sip hot apple cider. You raise a brow, "told me what? That you lied and said I was an excellent baker? And where are my hundred and twenty bucks?"

"No, that you and Mingyu would end up together. See? I'm a matchmaker. A mother, an artist, a matchmaker…hopefully, a grandmother." She gives you a pointed look as Mingyu throws you a pleading look. You only smile, shaking your head as you take a sip of your drink.

"Mother, you did not match anything." "I sent you to that preschool where you met Mingyu! I've been your biggest supporter from the beginning!"

"You only sent me there because Mingyu's mother recommended it. We already knew the Kims, we just weren't friends yet." You say plainly, but you feel your cheeks hot as Mingyu finally escapes the gaggle of aunties cooing over him with lipstick stamped all over his cheeks and smelling of six different perfumes. He's pouting, your mother wiggling her eyebrows at you before patting his arm and slipping away.

"Never bring me here again," he buries his face in your hair, and you try to bite back your laughter as he pinches your hip gently, "it's not funny! They asked me so many questions about our relationship and we've only been together for three days!"

"Together for three days or not, you should know enough about me. We've been friends for over two decades," you say pointedly, and his pout only grows deeper as he presses his forehead to yours, silently begging for a kiss. "Mingyu, we are in public."

"Don't you want them to know your boyfriend is the crèmè de la crèmè? Because I'm such a good baker, boyfriend and best friend?"

You roll your eyes, tonguing your cheek as he gives you his best puppy-eyed look. One of the aunties catches your eye from across the room, her eyes lighting up, "kiss the boy already!"

"Nevermind," he murmurs, embarrassment coating his cheeks as you grab his shirt and pull him back, pressing your lips to his. Your mother's coworkers cheer, and it's almost embarrassing as you stop Mingyu from pulling away, his lips sweet with apple cider. You pull back with a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, looking at the aunties, "no more kissing this one! He's got an owner!"

Mingyu blushes as you grab his hand and pull him into your mother's office, "crème de la crème…whatever."

"I'm not a dog, you know. You can't own me." "Sit down, Kim Mingyu. You're gonna kiss me now."

He tongues his cheek, "all of this because of your shit baking."

"Shut up, you love me." "I do." "Good boy."

"I am not a dog!"

“Do you have a copy of tomorrow’s case for discussion?” Jihyo sounds like she’s about ready to cry. Not surprising to you at all, because you’re the same right now. You blink at your laptop screen a few times, trying to get out of your own head. Long, rambling thoughts have always been your biggest vice. And you do it even more when you’re stressed.

You grab a sheet of paper on your bed next to you and lean over the side of it, meeting Jihyo halfway from her own bed.

“Thanks.” She mumbles, looking down at the sheet. She reads it over once, twice, then one more time, before her distraught eyes meet yours.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

You shrug.

Jihyo nearly wails, scratching at her head. “I can’t do this shit. God, I’m going to kill someone.”

You can’t even laugh. You’re too stuck on the presentation open on your own laptop, trying to make the font small enough to fit everything on it, but not so small that it can’t be seen. It’s proving to be way more difficult than you thought.

“Come on. We’re going to grab dinner.” She swings her legs over the bed, ignoring the many papers scattered around her as they wrinkle under the movement. You don’t even question it, clicking ‘Save’ on the presentation a comical number of times to make sure you won’t lose it, then following Jihyo’s footsteps.

It’s colder outside than you anticipated, but it still feels nice. The goosebumps on your skin wake you up a bit, which you desperately need after the fog you’ve been under for the last few hours. Realistically, you know that neither you nor Jihyo can afford to take time off. But enough is enough. You need a break, even if it means you will crash and burn tomorrow.

The campus dorms are separate from the actual university, located across the road from it and scattered over a large area. Every building is more wide than it is tall, only three stories but sprawling over a large area. Medicine, Dentistry, Nursing and Physiotherapy. The backbone of the future healthcare system. When you walk past the park, there’s a small bonfire going on, surrounded by many cheering students egging on three guys holding kegs.

Yup, backbone of the future healthcare system.

Right outside the gated walls of the dorms are many places to eat, catered especially for the thousands of students beside them. You and Jihyo are standing on the sidewalk, wondering what you are in the mood for eating, when a familiar face catches your eye.

“Can’t work either?” Mina smiles, giving you both hugs. Jihyo pouts and shakes her head.

“Do you know the diagnosis for tomorrow’s case?”

Their voices fade as they continue to talk, and you stare off into space. One half of your brain is wondering if you want pizza or something Chinese. The other part is contemplating cutting some info from your presentation so you can fit it on the slide. Someone nudges you, and when you blink back to the present, both Jihyo and Mina are looking at you.

“What’s up with you?” Mina asks.

“Nothing.” You reply almost automatically.

Jihyo huffs and rolls her eyes. “She’s been like this for days, just checking out.”

Mina frowns. “That’s not like you at all.”

“Sorry.” You sigh. “I’m just stressed.”

“You need to take more breaks.”

“Doesn’t help.” Jihyo has her arms crossed and she’s shaking her head. “She’s still thinking of work. I guarantee you she’s thinking about that presentation she has due tomorrow. Aren’t you?”

Caught red handed. You feel your face grow warm and you pout. “…… No.”

Jihyo snorts and Mina laughs a little. You sigh defeatedly.

“Can we just eat?”

The three of you end up at the first place you can see, a small diner where you order burgers, fries and milkshakes. Any food that’s greasy enough to take your mind off the mountains of stuff you have left unfinished. Mina watches you closely as you stare out the window.

“You need to relieve stress.” She says. You hum noncommittally.

“Thanks for the suggestion. I never would’ve known I had to do that.”

Jihyo snorts and elbows you. Mina doesn’t seem fazed.

“I have a solution, but I don’t think our goody little princess will take it.”

That gets your attention. You’ve always hated being perceived as that. Sure, you’re mostly a homebody. You don’t like attending parties too much unless you know a lot of people there, which is almost never. You like spending most of your time in front of a screen, and you’re not very athletic either. You haven’t had anything remotely romantic since university started, even though all your friends have indulged in hookups. And because of all this, since the start of university, you’ve been branded as the kind of risk averse girl who doesn’t really enjoy anything fun. You know it’s all in jest. Your friends love you very much. But it still irritates you.

“What is it?” You ask. You know she’s baiting you, but you want to know anyway.

“There’s this guy in DPT,” she begins, “Totally flaky. Kind of full of himself. But he’s amazing in bed.”

Jihyo’s already in a fit of giggles. She obviously knows who Mina is talking about. You frown.

“Okay. So?”

Mina leans forward, her elbows on the table. “He jokingly put an ad up on the university Facebook group a while ago. Offering….. services…… to any girl that’s interested. It got taken down almost immediately but apparently it actually became a thing, because I’ve heard a lot of girls say he’s always down to hook up as stress relief if you ask.”

By this point, your mouth has dropped open in shock and a small amount of disgust. Both Jihyo and Mina have stupid grins on their faces.

“So he’s a glorified prostitute.”

Mina gasps “He is not! He’s a good guy, actually. A little sleazy but, aren’t all college guys like that? Also, it’s not like he’s asking for payment.”

You gawk at her. “Oh my god, you too?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “Anatomy was really difficult last year, okay?”

You groan and lean down, forehead hitting the table with a dull thunk. Jihyo laughs.

“Thank you for the suggestion.” You give Mina a withering look. “But I’m fine.”

Mina shrugs. “I’m just saying, he's really good. And he’d probably blow your virgin mind.”

Your face flames. “I’m not a virgin.”

“Eight second sex doesn’t count.”

Jihyo is nearly doubled over, face red with laughter. You thank every god in the universe when your food finally arrives.

Mina is wrong, objectively. You aren’t a virgin. In fact, you had a boyfriend in high school. You took each other’s virginities. Of course he came in eight seconds, it was his first time. The fact that you never had sex again and he broke up with you a month afterwards didn’t change anything. You are not a virgin.

No one says anything to you after that day, but the thought annoyingly lingers. You cannot believe a guy would just do that. And even more shocking that girls would agree to hook up with someone who has a reputation like that. Another notion plagues you: how good is he in bed to even have all these girls keep coming to him?

Fuck. These are dangerous thoughts. Especially for someone like you, who can spiral in your mind so easily. And almost like sugar on top, with every passing day, work keeps ramping up. You retreat farther and farther in your mind, thoughts racing and contorting from one shape to another, taking up lives of their own, and before you know it, you’re wondering. What if you were to hook up with this guy too?

In every sense of the word, you are stressed. You don’t know what he does, but it clearly works. Maybe you can take just one night and instead of stuffing your face with greasy food as an outlet, you can have sex. It sounds like an intriguing option.

Maybe it will shut your friends up about you being a prude.

Tracking DPT people isn’t easy as someone in Medicine, and especially as someone in Medicine who doesn’t know more than four people and would rather set herself on fire than talk to new faces. Luckily, those four friends of yours are insanely well connected. There’s no way in hell you’re asking Mina. You won’t give her that satisfaction. So when you call Mingyu about what Mina told you, he has a name for you immediately.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” He says over the phone. Behind him, you can hear a lot of talking and laughing. He’s likely at a party. On a weekday. Figures. “Really cool guy. I’ll send you his number.”

“That would be great.” You reply.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?”

You immediately go rigid. “Why? Is he suspicious?”

There’s a small silence before Mingyu snorts. “You know what, this is good. You need this. Desperately.”

You don’t like his implication, so you just hang up. He sends you Jeonghan’s number mere minutes later, and you reply with a middle finger emoji. He only sends you kissy faces back.

Once you click on Jeonghan’s number and stare at the blank text box, you’re at a loss. What do you even say to him? How do these things go? You really don’t want to ask Mingyu again. He already thinks you’re a loser (affectionately).

You end up sending a small text introducing yourself and telling him which department you are from. He replies around ten minutes later.

[yoon jeonghan]: what can I do for you?

Now you’re at a true loss. What do you say? You type and erase, type and erase for many agonising minutes. Then, another text comes up.

[yoon jeonghan]: im in B wing. DPT. last door on the second floor.

You blink a few times, staring at his text. Fuck, he knows. You feel a little embarrassed, but you think this is more of a reflection of him than it is of you, so you just shut your phone and scramble to get dressed.

Half an hour later, you’re climbing the steps of an unfamiliar building across campus, feeling nervous and jumpy. Your eyes dart around your new surroundings rapidly, but no one is really wandering around. It’s a weekday, so there’s not much activity. The corridors are easy enough to navigate, and you find the room at the end of the hallway very quickly. You shake your hands out, breaths coming irregularly. This is so out of left field for you, and half your mind can’t even process that you would do something so impulsive. You’re not this person at all. But what can you say? Medical school hath changed you.

You knock on the door so quietly that you immediately wonder if you should knock again. He probably didn’t hear it. You’re just thinking of doing it again when the door swings open, catching you off guard. You freeze.

He’s tall, and kind of skinny looking in his oversized t-shirt. But he has this gorgeous, jet black hair that falls down the sides of his face in effortless waves. Hell, it looks even better than your hair freshly out of the salon. He has pretty, almond eyes, a thin nose bridge, and lips so plump that you immediately wonder what they would feel like.

Okay. You get the appeal now.

“You must be Y/N.”

Your head jerks with a nod. “Jeonghan?”

He smiles, and it nearly takes your breath away. God, he’s painfully attractive. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you want to turn around and book it immediately.

“In the flesh. Come in, sweetheart.”

You can feel the back of your neck burn hot at the petname. No one has ever called you that. You step in hesitantly, looking around. It’s a cubicle, with a single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Lucky him, he doesn’t have to share with a roommate. You don’t know anyone in the Medicine building who has a single room. Damn physiotherapy people and their many perks.

It’s surprisingly neat. There’s a gaming setup on the desk, a lot of wires, but they’re all stacked neatly. There’s a few books on the side tables and on the floor next to the desk. The bed is made. There’s some posters on the walls. The room has a lot of character. It catches you a little off guard. You don’t know what you were expecting. Maybe a shady dungeon with chains and a mattress as hard as stone.

Jeonghan watches you expectantly. You fidget.

“I- I heard… I mean, someone told me. About- about you.”

He hums, and you can see the amusement on his face, the corner of his lip ticked up just a little bit. You wish the ground could swallow you whole. He huffs out a laugh.

“Should’ve known you’d be shy. You couldn’t even say it over text.”

Your face burns more. You avoid his eyes. When he walks closer, your heart races. You nearly jump away in shock when he leans down, nosing at your hair, brushing over your neck.

“Should we loosen you up a bit?”

Your heart is beating so fast it makes you a little dizzy. He smells really good up close. Fragrant aftershave and something like pine. Your mouth drops open when his lips press to the skin below your ear.

“Yes?” He whispers.

“Yes.” You breathe.

Your consent is all he needs, large hands brushing over your hips before moving up to grip your sides. He presses more kisses over your neck, then up your jaw. Something twinges in your lower stomach, making your insides clench. Your heart is pounding so loud you are scared he will feel it through your rib cage. He keeps traveling up, until his lips brush the corner of your mouth. You turn your head with an instinct that surprises even you, and he hums in approval.

That first kiss makes your knees buckle. Luckily, his hands are giving you enough support to keep you from collapsing. It’s languid, like he’s taking his time with you, and yes, his lips are just as soft as you imagined. His nose nudges yours, making you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. You can’t help your moan, hands fisting his shirt. You can feel his smile on your lips.

When he pulls away, you have to blink furiously to compose yourself. He watches you closely, like he’s trying to figure you out. But you should be the one doing that, if your brain wasn’t completely scrambled right now. You need him to kiss you again, so you lean up on your tiptoes towards him. He chuckles.

The second kiss is even more charged, though you didn’t think that was possible. His tongue comes out to play this time, and you arch into him at the feeling. His hands have become more daring too, exploring your body. He squeezes your ass a little, digs into the plush of your hips. He fiddles with your shirt until he’s coaxing you to put your arms up, pulling it off you. You feel shy suddenly, but he doesn’t seem to notice, going back to kissing you, and his lips wipe away any hesitation that you might have.

He plays with the clasp of your bra a bit, running his fingers over the straps. It sends shivers up your spine. He finally undoes it and pulls it off. He disconnects your lips enough to look down at your chest, whistling low.

“Pretty.” He says. You flush hard, tugging at his own shirt.

When Jeonghan pulls it off, you’re a little surprised. He’s not nearly as skinny as he looks when he’s swimming in his loose clothes. He’s lean, nicely carved muscle, just enough meat on him to feel good when your hands begin exploring. He lets you, doesn’t even flinch when you run your fingers over his abs. Your eyes dart further down, and you can see his erection over his sweatpants. You bite your lip.

“How do you want me, pretty?” He asks, lips running lazily over your shoulder. You flush.

“I- I don’t know.”

He pulls away at that a little, looking at you curiously. “You have done this before, right?”

You scowl. “Of course I have!”

“Okay.” He placates you, hands running up and down your bare sides. “So how do you want it? I can eat you out. Or do you just wanna fuck?”

Well, shit. You didn’t expect him to say all that. You’re caught off guard by how vulgar his words are, by how hot he sounds talking like this. Like it’s nothing. Fuck, you’ve never been eaten out before. Are you even ready for something like that? But then again, from what you can see as you look nervously down at his bulge, he’s not exactly small. Mina was right. Eight second sex really doesn’t count. There’s no way you can take all of this.

Jeonghan laughs lightly as he follows your gaze before humming and nodding. He goes back to kissing your shoulder and neck.

“I’ve got you. Just relax.”

That’s exactly what you’re struggling to do, but you don’t tell him that. He walks you both backward until you’re pushing yourself up the mattress to the head of the bed, him on top of you. His fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans and panties before pulling both of them down in one go. You flush at the thought of being completely naked now, his eyes running over you. There’s a heat in them that you didn’t expect, but welcome it regardless. It really does look like he wants you. You don’t know how much of it is an act, or if he really thinks you’re worth looking at like this.

He kisses over your ankle before traveling up slowly, laying his lips on your skin every few beats until he reaches the apex of your thighs. This is entirely new territory for you. Even the thought of a guy down there is mortifying, so yes, maybe your friends aren’t too far off in their assumptions of you. It’s so hot in theory, but here, now, in practice, you’re so nervous it makes every muscle in your body stiffen. Maybe this it too-

You yelp when you feel it, his lips brushing over your slit. Jeonghan is taken aback, pulling away and blinking up at you from between your legs. It’s a strange sight, strange enough to knock you out of your thoughts. He breathes out a laugh.

“Either you’re very distracted, or you really haven’t done this before.”

You peer down at him, held up by your elbows so you can look properly. You hesitate before sighing.

“I haven’t.” You mumble, but you’re quick to clarify. “I didn’t lie. I’ve- I’ve had sex. But no one’s ever….. I’ve never had-”

“Well that’s a shame.” Jeonghan mumbles. He runs his hands over your inner thighs, slow strokes that loosen your muscles a little bit. He thumbs at your outer lips and you flush deeply, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.

“Anyone who got close enough to have sex with you but didn’t eat out your pretty pussy must’ve been a real asshole.”

He kisses your folds, sucking on them a little. Your mouth drops and your elbows give out, back hitting the mattress. God, this is way hotter than it needs to be. He’s probably just saying all this to make you relax a little and get it over with. You feel something hot, wet and alive run over your lips again before dipping inside, lazily licking over where you’re most sensitive. He tongues at your clit until you let out your first moan. His grip on your thighs, holding you open, tightens.

“That’s it.” He whispers. “Just relax.”

Never in a million years did you think head would feel this good, but Jeonghan shatters all your illusions. He’s so meticulous, discovering parts of you that you didn’t even know could feel good when stimulated. He has no shame about it either. He moans into you when you try to close your legs around his head, or when your fingers thread through his hair. His tongue dips inside you too, swirling, before pulling out and licking upward so he can suck on your clit some more. You get close to your high embarrassingly quickly, and you’re nearly crying when you warn him about it. He only keeps going, consistent in his pace, until you’re jerking and shuddering, cumming hard in his mouth. He doesn’t slow until you’re desperately pushing him away, overstimulated.

“Fuck.” His voice is raspy, ragged. His face is drenched. You can see, even through your teary vision, that his pupils are dilated. “That was so hot, the way you came on my tongue.”

You flush, not knowing what to say. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You jerk back when Jeonghan’s thumb runs over your abused clit. He smirks.

“You gotta do that again for me, pretty. I need to feel that again. On my fingers this time.”

He’s leaning over you before you can even process his words. He presses his forehead to yours, and you feel something prod at your entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You arch when a solitary finger slips inside you. You’re definitely wet enough, between your orgasm and his spit, so there’s next to no resistance. Jeonghan watches you closely, too closely. You try to turn your head, feeling shy, and he only chuckles, curling his finger inside you. You shriek when something zips through your core.

“Found it.” He grins. It’s so sleazy but so hot. God, is this why your girls are lining up for him?

He sinks another finger inside you before curling it up to the same spot, and this time, you see stars. You writhe and tremble under him, feeling so full with just this. He fucks the soul out of you with his fingers, moving rapidly while his thumb rubs over your clit. The noises turn wetter, sloppier, and Jeonghan bites his bottom lip as he watches you fall apart under him.

Your second orgasm is quicker but even more intense, leaving you near speechless. You can’t even make a sound, mouth open in a silent cry as you feel blood rush roar in your ears. You seize and shudder so much it feels almost animalistic. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Jeonghan.” You weep, grabbing his wrist when it’s too much. Well, it was too much from the minute he put his mouth on you, but two orgasms in, you genuinely feel like you’re about to faint.

“My name sounds so sweet from your lips, pretty.” He says. He keeps calling you that, and it makes your heart race a little. You just turn your head to the side. You’re too bashful to even look at him. He lays a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You want more?”

The thought of more makes your heartbeat pick up again. You turn back to him a little, nose nudging against his. He knows he has your attention. He smirks.

“Come on, tell me. You want my cock?”

Your pussy clenches. You bite your lower lip. Jeonghan thumbs at it, releasing it from your teeth. You nod timidly. He chuckles again.

“Gotta do better than that, pretty. Ask for it like a good girl.”

The thought of saying it out loud lights your face on fire. Your hands fist the sheets, and you feel so nervous. Jeonghan watches you closely in that unnerving way of his. Then, he pushes down, and you feel his hard on press into your cunt, right between your spread legs. Your jaw goes slack.

He wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and filthy, all tongues and teeth, and he grinds slowly into you, over and over. He’s hard as a rock, throbbing even through the thin material of his pants. You clench pathetically around nothing. You can’t take it anymore.

“Want your cock.” You whine into his mouth. “Please fuck me.”

Jeonghan giggles, honest to god giggles, into the kiss. “So polite. How can I say no?”

When he finally shucks off his pants, your head spins a bit. He’s way bigger than your ex, longer, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know will feel so good when he slides into you. There’s a large, pulsing vein running up the underside that makes your mouth water a little bit. Never before have you felt the urge to suck a dick until now.

A lot of firsts happening today.

Jeonghan’s eyes are locked on yours as he pumps himself, long fingers wrapped gracefully around his shaft. You watch him with a look of fascination that amuses him, you can see it on his face. He dips his fingers inside you again and you jerk a little. When he pulls out, they’re wet and sticky. He runs them over his cock. You’re shell shocked at his brazen action, and he smirks. Is he just doing all this to see how far he can push you?

When he finally sinks into you, every single thought in your head goes blank. All that incessant thinking and worrying for so many months becomes muted until there’s nothing but static, and the beat of your own heart. You can’t process it, can barely breathe through it. He stretches you like he’s carving a path for himself, dragging over your walls. By the time he sinks all the way to the base, you feel like you can feel him in your throat.

“Holy shit.” He curses, and you see his face crumple in real time, the first sign of his composure breaking. You can’t even moan. You have no air in your lungs.

“You sure you’re not a virgin, pretty? So tight, squeezing the life out of me.” His voice cracks at the end, and he bites his bottom lip hard.

“Move.” You manage to gasp out, hips jerking. He chuckles.

“Hold on. I don’t wanna cum too quick.”

Now that gives you PTSD. Jeonghan takes a few deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. He toys with your clit, like he’s trying to get you to relax around him a bit. Finally, he pulls out and thrusts back in, hard. Any air you may have finally breathed, he knocks right back out.

He sets a fast pace from the start, thrusts hard and deep inside you. You barely have the chance to miss him before the head of is dick is pressing into your sweet spot again, stroking it with even more force than his fingers previously had. You feel so full, like you’re ready to explode just from the force of the pounding you’re taking. You claw at the sheets, and when that isn’t enough, you claw at his arms that frame both sides of your head. His eyes move between your face and your pussy, watching you swallow him greedily, over and over again.

“Jesus, where have you been hiding?” He chokes out. “Can’t believe I missed out on this cunt for so long.”

“God.” You whine, eyes teary. “Don’t stop.”

He shakes his head and grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. Not until I milk all that stress out of you.”

Frankly, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. You can barely string two words together except a mantra of Jeonghan’s name over and over. Your orgasm is no surprise, body locking and cumming hard around him, walls fluttering desperately as you cry and gasp through it. Jeonghan groans long and low, eyes squeezing shut before his thrusts turn sloppy. It takes a few more hard slams of his pelvis into yours before he’s pulling out and shooting ropes of his cum all over your stomach. He pumps himself through it, breathing hard, and you can see his shoulders shake, glistening with sweat.

What a sight.

The come down is dizzying. Jeonghan pulls his clothes on quickly before he grabs a towel and leaves the room, coming back with it wet enough for you to wipe yourself with it. You feel awkward as you dress yourself again. Jeonghan flops down on the bed with a tired sigh. You shift on your feet when you’re done.

“I’ll- I’ll go.”

A slow smile spreads on his face. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You shake your head and frown. “I’m not. I just don’t know what to say.”

He laughs, nodding. Just before you turn to leave, he gives you a wink.

“Text me any time.”

…………………………………….

Jeonghan’s stress relief programme works wonders for you.

You spend the next week practically buzzing. Your body is a little sore, not enough to actually notice, but enough to keep you alert. The night you come back from his room, you manage to crank out every assignment due in the week because you’re so desperate to not let your mind wander to what you just did. The next day, you get started on work from the coming week. Jihyo is so surprised when she asks you for help and you send her notes that are neat and well compiled.

“Are you taking something?” She narrows her eyes at you. “Ritalin?”

You roll your eyes. “Just say thank you.”

She grumbles out a ‘thanks’. You can’t tell her about Jeonghan. You just don’t have it in you to share that. Your night with him was beyond anything you had experienced before. You know it was casual. You’re sure you would never see him again. So you dont want to make it a big deal by talking about it.

Except, you run into him organically soon after this.

A week and a half later, on a Friday night, you are lounging in bed with a textbook. You’re almost caught up with work, enough that you can take a breather and do some light reading instead. Unfortunately, this gives Jihyo the perfect opportunity to drag you out of the room, claiming you have no excuse to stay home because you don’t have anything due. Dammit.

The party you end up at is outside the dorms at a house a few blocks away. You can’t tell who threw it, but there are a lot of Med and DPT people there. When you see Mingyu standing in the center of the room chugging a bottle, you roll your eyes.

“When does he even get time to study?” You mumble when Jihyo shoves a red cup in your hands. You sniff it and make a face. Disgusting.

“Dunno. But he manages just fine, so don’t worry about him. In fact, you need to shut your brain off for once.”

Before you can reply, she’s throwing her drink back and grabbing another, leading you farther into the room. Mingyu spots you two quickly, and it’s all chaos from there. He knows almost everyone, and he introduces you to people at lightning speed. You won’t remember any of them, but you just nod and smile along. When he reaches the couches in the living room, your heart skips.

“You know Jeonghan.” Mingyu grins, arm around your shoulder shaking you teasingly.

The man in question is sprawled over one corner of the long couch, and his eyes find yours almost immediately. He looks stunning even in the dim light. His hair is half up and half down, some of it falling over his eyes. He’s dressed in all black, and his leather jacket makes him look dangerously inviting. His eyes run over you in a way that makes you shiver. You should’ve worn something warmer. A crop top and skirt were not the way to go.

“What do you mean she knows him?” Jihyo frowns. You stiffen.

“He means I know of him. From what Mina told me.” You lie smoothly. Mingyu squeezes you a little in apology. Obviously he didn’t know you were keeping it a secret.

Jihyo really isn’t in the mood to slow down, because she throws back any alcohol she can get her hands on. This forces you to remain sober so you can take her back when the time is right. You’re so busy with her that you manage to steer clear of Jeonghan. The whole place is too loud, too overstimulating, that you have no time to think about him. Hours later, you’re tired and more than a little cranky when you finally manage to drag Jihyo out of the house. She’s stumbling a little, giggling at something completely normal that she finds exceedingly funny. You huff. How the hell are you going to do this?

“I have a car.” You hear a familiar voice. You don’t expect to see Jeonghan. You hadn’t seen him all night except at the very beginning, so you assumed he left, probably with someone else. But he’s here now, hands buried in the pockets of his dark jeans. You are half inclined to say no, but just the thought of taking Jihyo back like this is enough to make you cry, so you simply nod.

Jeonghan brings the car around and helps you put Jihyo in the backseat, where she promptly falls asleep. You sit in the front with him, and you feel awkward all over again.

“You didn’t text me, pretty.” He says. You forgot how the nickname makes your face flush.

“I didn’t think you were serious.” You mumble. Jeonghan looks confused.

“About what?”

You sigh, hesitating a little. “I’m not really….. a casual hookup person. So I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”

Jeonghan chuckles. “Damn, I’m getting broken up with.”

You try to shake your head but Jeonghan just brushes it off. He’s clearly joking. And it’s not like this means anything. So you don’t say anything more, hoping the uncomfortable air dissipates a bit. Thankfully, you aren’t far from the dorms at all. Jeonghan parks in front of Med and offers to help you take Jihyo up. You can’t say no even if you want to, since she’s fully dead weight now.

He’s great support in dragging her to the room. In fact, he does most of the heavy lifting, which you are grateful for. You dump Jihyo on her bed, pulling her shoes off and covering her with a blanket. She doesn’t as much as flinch. You straighten a little, sighing.

“Thank you.” You smile at him. He shrugs it off. You walk him to the door. When he puts his hand on the knob, he pauses.

“So, we’re really over?”

You blink, surprised. “We were never really a thing.”

“I know.” He hums, watching you with heated eyes. “But it was fun. Shame that it’s ending before it even properly began.”

You fidget a little, staring at your hands. Jeonghan steps closer, his fingers find your chin, tilting your head up.

“Can I get a goodnight kiss?”

You consider it a little before nodding. “Okay.”

One kiss won’t hurt. Except it’s not one kiss. Jeonghan deepens it the second your lips meet his. His hands run over your hips, over the sliver of skin between your skirt and your tiny top. You shiver, hands squeezing his biceps. His tongue slides into your mouth and you moan. The same heady feeling from that night comes back, the one that leaves you dumb and brainless with him. His tongue runs hungrily over yours. You clench around nothing.

“W-we should stop.” You manage to whimper into his mouth. He moans.

“Neither of us want that.”

He crowds you into the wall until you’re pressed between it and his chest. He kisses you harder, deeper, and you feel like you’re high on him, all consumed by him. He smells so fucking good it makes your head spin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair and you tug harshly, and he seems to like that, because he groans into your mouth.

“You had to wear the tiniest little skirt, didn’t you?” He bites your bottom lip. “Wanted to bend you over right in the middle of that house.”

“You-” Your breath stutters. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why?” Jeonghan pulls back enough to lick down your jaw and nibble at your neck. You arch into him. “Does it turn you on?”

You don’t want to tell him that yes, it does turn you on. The raw need he says he has for you is so foreign, but so welcome. Before you can say anything, Jeonghan pulls off your neck and sinks to his knees.

You gape at him, shocked. His hands are urgent, pushing your skirt up and hooking a hand under your knee so he can hook it over his shoulder.

“Jeonghan!” You hiss, but you can’t say a thing further. Your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth when he runs his tongue over your clothed core. He wastes no time in pulling your panties aside and tonguing right at your slit, finding your clit immediately to suck on it.

It’s so much all at once, an assault on the senses. You tremble, nearly losing your balance if it weren’t for Jeonghan’s hands holding you tight to him. He chases after you with his mouth when you try to jerk away. He laps at you like he’s starved for your taste. It feels so good that you can’t decide if you want to pull away (Jihyo is right there) or if him eating you out like this is a thrill you want to lean into. It feels so dirty, so all consuming. You buck into his mouth and his resulting moan is depraved. Your orgasm is fast approaching. You can’t stop it even if you try.

“Fuck, Jeong- Jeonghan-…. Hannie.”

You have to bite your hand to keep from crying out, your high tearing through you with the force of a car crash. You shake and shudder over him, his hands holding you up with a strength that surprises you. He doesn’t stop until you’re whining and pushing his head away, cleaning you up until you can feel his spit cooling on your skin.

He lets your leg down gently, soothing a hand over it and laying a kiss on your thigh before standing up. His hair is no longer tied up, messy around his head. He is soaked down his chin and to the column of his throat. Your cheeks flame, breaths still coming heavy. He lays a kiss on the heated skin.

“Thanks for the meal.”

You can’t even say anything before he’s kissing you one last time and quickly leaving. You blink harshly, wondering what the fuck just happened.

You find his hair tie on the floor the next morning.

………………………………..

You can’t stay away from Yoon Jeonghan. You tried once, and it ended with him on his knees in front of you, making you cum on his face. Since then, you’ve forgotten the amount of times he’s made you cum. On his tongue, on his fingers, and most gloriously, on his cock. He’s made you feel things you genuinely didn’t think were possible. He whispers into your ear such filthy words that you have a hard time even processing them. Says he’s ‘pussy drunk’. That he can’t live without his fill of you. So he finds you, once or twice a week, and he drags you back to his room because it guarantees privacy. Or he fucks you on your own bed when you know Jihyo is out for the night. Either way, he’s around you a lot more than you ever expected him to be.

Jeonghan is whip smart. You deduced that he was witty a long time ago, but he is a rare combination of book smart and street smart that you didn’t know even existed. You both have the same anatomy course, so you study together sometimes. Of course, he’s horny all throughout it, but if you make it interesting, he is more than willing to participate. His favourite is when you strip off one piece of clothing with every question he gets right. It always ends with sex, because everything with Jeonghan ends with sex, but it feels more charged like this, when he’s talking and laughing with you, that sweet little twinkle in his eyes that makes your heart race.

Jeonghan has an unhealthy obsession with fast food, which works out great for you since stress makes you crave greasy food too. You will often find yourselves in some fast food place outside campus, usually spicy fried chicken, late at night between studying and making assignments. He isn’t a big drinker, and neither are you, but you like sharing a beer with him sometimes. Jeonghan is just so comfortable in his own skin. He has no guilt or shame about anything he does, or any choice he has made. It contrasts with you, who always has ten different things playing in your head at one time, doubting, analysing, restructuring. He’s perceptive. He can tell when you’re about to spiral, letting out a disapproving little tut before tapping your forehead.

“Don’t fly away and leave me here alone.”

He says weird stuff like that.

It means nothing. It can’t. Jeonghan is notoriously a fuck boy. Everyone knows it. Hell, he advertised it in the university Facebook group once. What more is there to say? He likes sex, you like sex. You give it to each other. That’s it. Getting closer to him like this is the natural consequence of spending time together. There’s no deeper meaning here. But then you hear something, a floating rumor, and you almost can’t believe it.

“Didn’t know he was being picky.” Some girl who was having lunch on the same table as you said. You’re sure Mina told you her name when she introduced you guys, but you were, once again, lost deep in thought. You didn’t catch it. “He’s never rejected me before.”

Mina rolls her eyes. “He’s never rejected anyone before.”

“Miyoung says he hasn’t hooked up with any of her friends either. He’s been ignoring everyone’s calls or messages.”

You’re rock still as you stare at your plate. This can’t be true. You and Jeonghan are just…… messing around. Relieving stress. It’s not anything more. Before you can think, you’re pulling your phone out to text him.

[me]: where are you

The reply is instant.

[hannie]: dorm. u coming?

You reply with an affirmative, and half an hour later, you’re knocking on his door. He opens it with a lazy smile, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled. It seems he was still in bed. You’re mad at yourself that he looks even more attractive to you like this.

“Hi, pretty.” He hums, pulling you in and shutting the door, planting a kiss on your neck. He wraps his arms around you, hands already wandering under your shirt. You huff.

“I heard a rumor.”

“Hm?” He seems distracted, fingers dipping just a little in the waistband of your jeans. You plough forward.

“Some girls complaining that you have been dodging their calls.”

He snorts into your neck. His teeth dig teasingly into your skin. You push at his stomach a little, trying to put distance between you two.

“Jeonghan, are you only sleeping with me?”

He pulls off your neck briefly, but lays a kiss on your jaw instead. “Yeah.”

Now you really push him away. He takes the hint and detaches, but he looks confused.

“Why? Why aren’t you sleeping with other girls?”

His face twists into something more amused. “You know, it’s usually the other way around. Girls are mad when their boyfriends are sleeping with other girls.”

Your heart stutters at the statement. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

He pouts. “Hurtful. Are you sleeping with other guys?”

You balk at him. “No!”

“So you’re only sleeping with me, and I’m only sleeping with you.” He hums, looking thoughtful. He’s clearly being unserious. You don’t appreciate it. “Some people might say that we’re…… exclusive?”

“We’re not dating.” You say, dryly.

“We spend time together. We study together. We have sex. We talk to each other all the time either in person or over texts.” He’s listing things off on his fingers. You are growing more irritated with every point. He seems to notice, because he gives you one of those sweet smiles of his that make you melt. You try to hold strong.

“Okay, pretty. We’re not dating. But I would like to.” He grows more serious, stepping forward again to caress your sides.

“You like me?”

Jeonghan huffs, leaning forward so his forehead touches yours. “Darling, I’m obsessed with you.”

So many pet names. It’s always endless pet names with him. You love it. Your heart beats fast. You fiddle with his shirt.

“You really haven’t been with anyone since then?” You mumble.

Jeonghan’s lips brush on the corner of your mouth, an action laced with affection. “Only you. Can’t get enough of you. You drive me crazy.”

You giggle a bit. “Okay.”

“Hm?”

“Fine. I’ll date you.”

His smile is blinding. This time, his lips taste even sweeter against yours.