#exo fic

“Go away, you’re sweaty!”

Chanyeol was laughing. He didn’t even pause as he headed straight for your bathroom, choosing it simply because it was a few feet closer than his own apartment down the hall.

“I don’t even get why you exercise so much,” you huffed, watching him disappear around the corner. “You haven’t changed at all since you started.”

That hit a nerve. “Say that again!” he shot back, his voice echoing against the bathroom tiles. “I’m gonna show you exactly how buff I’ve gotten.”

Within seconds, your phone began to vibrate uncontrollably in your hand. He was spamming you with every progress photo he could find, from his very first day at the gym to the most recent shot in his camera roll. You looked down at the screen as notification after notification popped up—it was a total digital ambush.

Of course, Park Chanyeol couldn’t just accept a defeat.

You were still wheezing, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of his desperation, until your thumb swiped onto the most recent photo. The laughter died in your throat. You nearly choked on your own saliva, your eyes widening as the screen displayed something you didn’t expect. Among the mirror shots, he had accidentally included a nude—and yes, he was huge.

“See? Look at my forearm!” Chanyeol crowed, leaning over your shoulder to point at the screen. “You can’t tell me that’s not progress—”

His voice cut off with a sharp, strangled gasp.

“Wait—no, no, no!” he yelped. He lunged forward, his large hands scrambling to snatch the phone out of your grip. “Give me that!”

You managed to get out, though your brain felt like it had short-circuited. You pulled the phone back instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I-I didn’t mean to—you literally sent it to me!”

“I didn’t mean to send that one!” He looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, his face turning red. “I was just selecting everything in the 'progress' folder! I didn’t—I forgot—oh my god, just give it to me!”

Chanyeol lunged, his large frame blurring as he moved to snatch the device from your grip. You instinctively backed away, but your heel caught the edge of the rug, and you tumbled backward onto the sofa. Before you could scramble away, he was there—heavy and solid.

He didn’t mean to pin you, but in his desperation to reach your hand, he ended up hovering directly over you, his arms braced on either side of your torso.

Up close, the buff transformation he had been bragging about was a physical reality. He was radiating heat, his skin still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from his workout that made the hard lines of his shoulders catch the light. He was all red—half from the exertion of his training, half from the sheer mortification of the photo—but he was also all him.

The scent of his cologne mixed with the salt of his skin filled your senses, dizzying and sharp. You looked up, and for the first time, you didn’t see your goofy best friend. You saw the expansion of his chest as he panted, the way his biceps flexed against the cushions, and the intense, dark look in his eyes as he stared down at you and your lips.

The atmosphere in the room shifted from frantic to suffocating in a heartbeat. Neither of you noticed the dull thud as your phone slipped from your numb fingers and hit the carpet.

Chanyeol tried to shift, but his thigh pressed firmly between yours, and you felt it—the rigid heat of his cock through his sweetpants, making a light moan escape your throat.

He lost it. He dived down, his mouth crashing against yours with a hunger that felt like he was starving. It was a claim, a desperate attempt to swallow the sound of your voice. Your fingers acted on their own, flying upward to tangle deep in his thick hair, pulling him closer until there was no air left between you.

Chanyeol let out a low, vibrating growl into your mouth, his tongue sweeping past your lips to find yours in a messy rhythm. Instinct took over as he began to rock his hips, settling himself firmly into the cradle of your thighs, groaning directly into your mouth at the friction, the sound rumbling through your entire body.

The heat radiating off him was driving you mad. Your hands slid down from his hair, your palms stinging as they grazed his damp skin, until your fingers hooked under the hem of his black shirt. You yanked it upward, peeling the fabric off in a flash and tossing it blindly into the shadows of the room.

Finally, your hands were free to explore. You traced the broad, hard lines of his shoulders and the deep ridges of his back, marveling at how solid he felt under your touch. He was warm, slick with the remnants of his workout, and every muscle you had joked about earlier was now twitching and tensing under your fingertips.

There was no need for words. In one fluid, powerful motion, Chanyeol gathered you up. You felt like jelly in his arms, your bones melting against the strength of his chest as he carried you the short distance to the bed.

The moment your back hit the mattress, he moved with a frantic hunger, his large hands hooking into the waistband of your sports pants and stripping them away in one sharp tug as you were taking your shirt and bra off. His dark eyes scanned the damp silk of your panties, seeing exactly what he had done to you. Then, he dropped.

Chanyeol buried his face against your cunt, the heat of his breath seeping through the fabric before his tongue followed, delivering a slow, firm lick right over your center. A jagged moan tore from your throat, vibrating through the quiet room.

“Chanyeol... please,” you gasped, your fingers clutching at the bedsheets as your hips arched instinctively toward him.

He looked up at you, his face flushed and his hair a wild mess, a dark, predatory smirk tugging at his lips. “Cute.” He reached up, his large hand splaying over your stomach, his thumb stroking your skin. “You’re soaking wet for me just from a few pictures?”

Chanyeol didn’t wait for an answer. He hooked his fingers into the lace of your panties and peeled them off, tossing them aside without a second thought. He shifted, settling between your knees, his gaze dropping to your exposed slit.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, his voice a low register that made your toes curl. “So pretty… and perfect for me. I’m gonna taste every bit of you. You want that, huh?”

“Chanyeol, oh my god—stop talking and just—” you choked out, your head tossing back against the pillow.

He leaned back in, his tongue swirling against your pussy with expert precision, finding your clit and flicking against it until you were shaking.

“Make me.” His hot breath made you shiver. He looked up again, his eyes locking onto yours as he used his fingers to spread you wider. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

“I-I have,” you confessed, a broken sob of a laugh escaping you as he went back to work, his tongue heavy and insistent. “I want you so bad, Yeol. Please... don’t stop.”

“I’m gonna make sure your little pussy remembers all of me, doll,” he promised, his voice muffled against you.

You jammed your hand over your mouth, biting down on your own palm to stifle the shriek that wanted to tear out of you. Every stroke of his tongue was agonizingly perfect, filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth and the frantic hitching of your breath.

Chanyeol looked up for a split second, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with a mix of pride and pure, unadulterated hunger. “Don’t hide it,” he growled against your inner thigh. “Lemme hear you, doll.”

“Yeol... please,” you whimpered as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth. “You’re—you’re gonna break me—”

Before you could even process it, he slid two long fingers inside you. The sudden fullness made your eyes roll back, and your hand flew from your mouth to his hair, your fingers locking into the dark strands as you instinctively arched your hips, grinding yourself against his face.

“Fuck—yes,” he gasped, his hot breath blooming over your folds. “You’re so… so fucking perfect.”

“Ah—god.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging him closer as if you could pull him right through you. “God—Yeol, you’re so much…”

Chanyeol pulled his fingers out just to spit directly onto his palm, slicking the moisture back over your clit and spreading you wide. He delved back in, his tongue mimicking the steady, driving thrust of his fingers.

“Goddamn!” he moaned. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your thighs were trembling so violently you could barely keep your legs open, the tension coiling in your gut until it was a physical pain. “Yeol, wait—stop! I-I’m too close!” you choked out as the first waves of the climax began to crest.

“I know, babe.” He didn’t slow down; if anything, he pressed harder, his fingers curling deep inside you to find the exact spot that made your toes curl. “Just give it to me.”

His mouth and the steady, relentless pressure of his hand made you lose the battle with your voice. A loud, broken moan echoed off the walls as your climax hit you like a tidal wave.

“Fuck—Chanyeol!” Your muscles clenched desperately around his fingers as you came, spilling over his hand and his mouth in a hot, frantic rush.

Chanyeol didn’t pull away. He drank it in, groaning low in his throat as he kept up the pace, trailing his tongue through the mess he’d made, making sure you felt every single second of the aftershock. You lay there, chest heaving, eyes blown wide as you stared at the ceiling, your body still buzzing.

“Good girl,” he panted, finally pulling back just enough to look at you. He was smeared with you and his own sweat, looking every bit the victor. “But I’m not done with you, love.”

Even though your muscles felt like water, the hunger hadn’t faded. You were still trembling, your skin hypersensitive, but as you looked up at him, your gaze immediately dropped to his erection against the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

Chanyeol didn’t keep you waiting. With a low, rough exhale, he stripped them off, leaving him in only his black boxers. The fabric was already darkened with a visible patch of precum, a testament to how much he had been wanting you while he was down between your legs.

He took a slow step closer to the edge of the bed. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you hooked them into the waistband of his underwear and pulled. As you freed him, his big cock bounced against his stomach, thick, pulsing, veiny, and mouthwatering, the tip already weeping with a fresh bead of moisture.

“Babe, you’re so dazed. You can barely keep your eyes open, huh?”

“No—I... I can.” The words felt clumsy on your tongue. You reached out, your hand looking small against his thigh as you guided him toward your face. “Lemme—”

Chanyeol let out a sharp, jagged breath as you leaned forward. When your tongue first swiped over the swollen tip, catching the heat of his precum, he hissed through his teeth.

“Oh—fuck,” he growled, his hand gripping your hair—firm enough to let you know who was in control. “I was watching you come, thinking about how much I wanna bury my cock so deep in your throat you can’t make a sound.”

You let out a soft, dizzy whimper, your eyes fluttering as you gave him those small, agonizing kitten licks, swirling around the ridge until he was shaking as badly as you were.

“Greedy.” His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal more of your mouth. “I bet you wanna feel me hitting the back of your throat, huh?”

“Please,” you breathed, your heart hammering so hard it was the only thing you could hear. “All of you. Just... please, Chanyeol.”

“I’d love that, angel.”

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head as you tried to take as much of him as possible, gagging, but Chanyeol had other plans. He let out a sharp, strangled sound and pulled back, leaving your lips tingling and empty.

“No—Yeol…” you whined, your voice small and thick with a dizzying need. You reached out blindly, your fingers brushing against his thighs.

“Trust me,” he rasped, his chest heaving as he stared down at your flushed face. “I’m not stopping. I just have better plans for that tight little body of yours. Turn over. On your belly, doll.”

You obeyed with a clumsy, heavy-limbed desperation, rolling over until your face was buried in the pillow. You felt the bed dip as he climbed over you, his large, calloused hands finding your hips and hauling them up. He held you there, your ass arched toward him, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze.

“God,” he hissed. “You look so fucking delicious from behind.”

You felt his tip—hot, blunt, and weeping—begin to rub slowly against your folds, teasing. You lost it, a broken, high-pitched moan muffled by the sheets as you tried to push back against him.

“Yeol, please,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the mattress. “I can’t—just... fill me up.”

“As you wish, angel.” He gripped your waist so hard his fingers left white marks against your skin, and then, with a slow, agonizingly steady push, he slid his cock into you.

You felt every inch of him stretching you out, claiming the space he had worked for. You felt your eyes roll back into your head as he bottomed out, burying himself deep inside you until your bodies were flush.

Chanyeol let out a deep, guttural groan against the back of your neck, his breath scalding your skin. He leaned down, pressing a series of heavy, open-mouthed kisses along your spine before giving the soft skin of your waist a sharp, possessive nip, cupping one of your boobs, squeezing you.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice trembling with the effort of not losing control immediately. “You feel like you were made exactly for me.”

“You’re... you’re so big,” your voice trembling as he began to move with a slow, deep rhythm. “Shit—please, don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” he promised, his pace beginning to pick up, his hips snapping against yours with a loud, wet rhythm. “You’re mine tonight.”

The last shred of Chanyeol’s restraint snapped. He began to drive into you with everything he had, his hips snapping against yours with a raw, relentless force. The bed cracked under the weight of his movements, a frantic soundtrack to the chaos he was wreaking on your body.

You heard his moans mixing with your own high-pitched cries. Your body was a complete slave to the arousal, your mind having long since checked out to leave only sensation behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His voice was a ragged edge in your ear. “You’re taking me so fucking deep.”

You tried to answer, to tell him how much you loved it, but you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. All you could do was sob his name over and over again, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you clenched around his cock with every thrust.

“Y-Yeol... oh god,” you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow.

You could feel the tension in Chanyeol’s muscles reaching a breaking point, his breath coming in hot, ragged pants against your ear. “You’re doing so good.” His voice was thick with a looming climax. “So perfect. Shit—babe, come for me one more time.”

Your second climax hit, your muscles squeezing him with a desperate, crushing intensity. Chanyeol let out a loud, triumphant groan that vibrated through your entire frame. He moved with a sudden, frantic speed, flipping you over onto your back. He pulled out, and you watched through blown-out eyes as he rained over you. His cum landed in hot, heavy bursts across your thighs, your belly, and your aching cunt.

You tried to speak, to say something, but there was only panting. Your lungs burned, your heart hammered, and your voice was gone. Chanyeol was no better; he collapsed between your breasts, his heavy head resting there as he took deep, shuddering breaths. He didn’t care that you two were sticky with sweat and fluids; he just wanted to be close to you.

“Oh god,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper as he tilted his head up to give you a series of messy, uncoordinated kisses on your skin. “Remind me... to send you photos... more often.”

You managed a weak, breathless laugh, your fingers feebly stroking the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “I might not complain next time. I’d sleep better.”

Chanyeol’s head snapped up from your chest, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face as he immediately caught your drift.

“I could definitely help with that. And plenty of other things, too.”

You let out a tired, mid-breath laugh, but the sound died into a startled whine as he suddenly shifted. Without a word of warning, he hooked his strong arms under your knees and back, hoisting your jelly-like body off the mattress.

“C’mon, babe.”

“Yeol, no,” you groaned, your head lolling against his shoulder. “I’m tired.” You felt completely drained, your muscles trembling with a bone-deep exhaustion. “I can’t... I literally won’t survive another round. My legs don’t even work.”

Chanyeol let out a boisterous, mocking laugh. He started walking toward the bathroom, his steady stride making your head spin.

“Another round?” he repeated with mischief as he looked down at you. “Imma think about it. But… I was thinking about an actual shower, you little deviant. Y’know, with soap? And water?”

Your face flushed a fresh shade of heat, and you let out an indignant huff, weakly smacking his bare, muscular chest. “I hate you!”

“You don’t!” His mockery was back in full swing. “And don’t hit me like that... it hurts! Jesus… I’m gonna skip the gym tomorrow. You drained me.”

You tried to sulk, turning your face away, but he wasn’t having it. As he kicked the bathroom door open, he kept ducking his head, trying to catch your lips with his own. He teased the corners of your mouth with tiny, nipping kisses, laughing against your skin every time you tried to dodge him. Even as you grumbled and complained, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, knowing that neither of you wanted to be anywhere else.

“He’s such a fucking bum,” Baekhyun sighs. He throws the crumpled piece of paper in the air and it lands on your chest. “Who dumps people with a handwritten note?”

“That was so like him though,” you grumble. “He was so anti-phone. Every time I showed him a reel he would say, you know that stuff is rotting your brain, right?”

Baekhyun turns back from his position on the floor to look at you, scandalized. “You were sending him reels?”

“Yes?” You roll your eyes at his pout. “You know that you don’t like, own Instagram right? I’m allowed to send reels to other people besides you.”

“You’re not allowed to send reels to people that dump you through a handwritten note slid under your door.” He turns back around and leans his head back on the couch, the top of his head nearly touching your thigh. “You’re okay, though? You don’t seem very torn up about it.”

“What if I was?” you hum. “Would that be so terrible?”

“Are you?”

You aren’t. You’d dumped others and been dumped so many times but you’d never actually experienced heartbreak. It never felt real enough to you to feel the hurt. You’d simply nod and move on, blocking their numbers before you were even out the door. Baekhyun called you a sociopath, you called yourself realistic. Besides, who is he to judge anyways? How many nights have you spent rubbing his back because the pretty girl at the bar ghosted him? You think about saying this, but that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to say to your best friend, who was kind enough to open his door to you at midnight with no questions asked.

“He sucked,” you say instead. 

“I could have told you that. I don’t think he knew my name. He just called everyone ‘bro.’ Even you.” 

“He always made us split the bill when we went out.”

“I’m pretty sure he was trying to flirt with Jongin’s girlfriend last week.”

“He never ate me out.”

Baekhyun chokes, and for a second you think that maybe, for the first time in your fifteen years of friendship, you’ve gone too TMI. He makes that sound again, a strained, choking sound high in the back of his throat. 

Then you realize that he’s laughing.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, tossing a throw pillow at his head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wheezes. Is he wiping a fucking tear from his eyes right now? “It’s just like – go fucking figure, y’know?”

“What do you mean?” 

He turns around to fully face you, still trying to stifle down his giggles. “Like, if there’s a guy who treats his girlfriend like shit there’s like a 90% chance he won’t go down on her either.”

Your eyebrows crease together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?” he asks. “Like if a guy is a piece of shit he wouldn’t want to do something that’s solely for her pleasure. Of course he’d never turn down a blowjob, but the other way? No way.”

“But I don’t think it works the other way, right?” you say. “Like a guy can be a good partner but not do it.”

“I mean everyone has their preferences, I guess but a downright refusal without a good reason is kind of a red flag.” He raises an eyebrow. “Why are you getting defensive about this?”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I guess ‘cus like… I’ve had partners that weren’t shitty people.”

Baekhyun falls silent, eyes wide and incredulous. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

You groan and cover your burning face in your hands. “Can we drop it?”

“No one’s ever gone down on you?” he asks. 

“Baek…”

“That’s fucking insane,” he mutters.

“Okay, well, since you’re the fucking sex expert how many times have you done it?” you spit out. You sit up, fully looking him in the eyes. The teasing glint is long gone now, replaced by something that you realize is close to pity.

“Like… every time?” he says weakly. 

“Every time,” you repeat, voice flat. “Every time you hook up with a girl you go down on her?”

“I at least offer!” 

A bitter silence falls over the two of you as you turn over this new piece of information in your head. Of course it’s something that you’ve thought about from time to time, but you always just thought it was something optional. A little appetizer to the main course. And you don’t get an appetizer every time you get a meal. But as you think back to all your partners, all the excuses that they gave you for not wanting to do it, you can’t help but feel… bad. Was there something about you that made all your partners not want to go down on you?

“It’s nothing wrong with you,” Baekhyun says. He has a funny way of doing that, assuming what you’re thinking without you saying anything. “I think you just happen to only date terrible people.”

“Thanks, Byun.”

He shrinks away. He knows you only call him that when you’re pissed. “Hey,” he says softly, tugging at your pajama pant leg. “I could do it for you if you wanted.”

You nearly shoot up straight in your seat. “Excuse me?” 

He holds his hands up in front of his face, anticipating you to smack him. “I’m being serious. Just so you could see what all the hype is about.”

It’s not an immediately horrible idea. It was just a favor, a way for you to test the waters. But still, thinking that Baekhyun is (objectively) good looking and pretending that you don’t occasionally fantasize about him from time to time (which is a totally normal thing to happen to best friends) are completely different things from, well, actually having sex with him. 

“Is it going to be weird?” you ask. “Y’know, after?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think so. I’ve had lots of meaningless sex.”

“Ouch.”

“You know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes. “I mean that we’re not going to fall in love or anything just because I put my mouth on you. You’ll still be my best friend.”

“Besides,” he continues. “Won’t it feel better knowing that it’s coming from someone who cares about you? Instead of some rando who won’t pay for dinner?”

“Can you please be nicer about my dating history?”

“Date a normal guy then I'll see.” Baekhyun sticks his pinky out towards you. “We can drop it right now and I’ll never bring it up again, I swear. But if you’re interested… I’m offering.”

As you stare at his outstretched pinky, you think one more time that maybe this is a bad idea. Then, your treacherous mind betrays you. How bad could it be? It was only a one time thing.

“You better be good,” you say, hooking your pinky with his.

He grins cheekily. “Never had any complaints.”

The two of you wisely decide to not do anything that night, to give you both some time to think about it and maybe even back out. You almost do. Several times, in fact. But the curiosity always wins out over the anxiety in the end. One week later, you’re in your own apartment, sitting next to each other on the side of your bed. He’s freshly showered, and he smells like your shampoo (he always uses too much), and suddenly this is feeling too real.

“It’s just me,” he says softly, noticing your nerves. “Do you want to back out?”

You hesitate for only a second before firmly shaking your head, as if doing so could convince the butterflies in your stomach to settle. “I’m ready.”

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, pursing his lips the slightest amount. A strange feeling, a mix of overwhelm, panic, and maybe even manic laughter fills your chest. “Wait,” you blurt out.

He opens his eyes, biting back an exasperated sigh. “We can stop.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s the… can we not kiss?”

There’s a pause, before he throws his hands up in disbelief. “No kissing?” 

“You said it yourself, this is meaningless. And kissing just kinda makes it mean something to me?” Your voice shrinks with every word, wilting under the incredulity of his gaze. 

“Meaningless wasn’t a good word,” he says quietly. Almost regretfully. “But yeah. Okay, we can skip the kissing.” He has an unreadable expression for a moment before he shakes it off, replacing it with the easygoing air that you’re used to. “Not sure how you want to get in the mood without it but–”

The words die on his tongue when you abruptly pull your shirt over your head, reaching back to unhook your bra before you have the chance to feel self-conscious about it. His gaze drops down, eyes widening almost comically. You shove the rest of your clothes down your legs and shift onto the bed so that you’re laying back against the pillows. “You’re the expert,” you say, trying to ignore the way that your voice is trembling slightly. “So show me how you get started.”

Baekhyun swallows, trying to not be too shameless in the way he’s staring at your body, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips slightly before he settles in between your legs. “Can I–?” he says carefully, his hand brushing against your waist.

“Do anything you want to do,” you exhale. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

He lays down onto his stomach and spreads your legs, hooking his arm under your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut of their own accord, breath hitching in anticipation. What if you don’t like it after all? you think. What if he doesn’t? What if there actually is something wrong with me and he’s just like the rest of them? 

A small gasp rips from your throat when you feel his lips on your inner thigh, brushing lightly at first before kissing the plush skin there. Your heart is hammering behind your ribcage, muscles tensing when he switches to the other side. You feel exposed with your core so close to his face, even more so since you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

After what seems simultaneously like a lifetime and a lightning flash, he finally focuses his attention onto your pussy. He starts slow, licking a long stripe up the length of your cunt, flicking his tongue at the top. Then his mouth descends, tongue dipping into your pussy, a low and almost inaudible groan leaving his mouth.

“Ah–” You let your head tip back against the pillows, eyes falling shut as he works his mouth over you. His tongue is so wet, lips so soft. You lose yourself in it for a while, slowly getting used to the feeling of him, the slick noises between your legs make you less embarrassed as each second slips by. 

His lips abruptly seal over your clit and you jolt when he starts to suck. Your legs twitch in his hold of their own volition, your fists scrambling to clutch the sheets below you. “Oh, that feels good,” you gasp, your voice coming out breathy, foreign to your own ears. 

Baekhyun repeats the motion, losing his grip on one of your thighs to bring the pads of his fingers to your dripping hole, shallowly thrusting the tips inside, flirting with your entrance. You buck your hips, inviting him in, pulse pounding in your ears as the pressure in your stomach continues to build higher and higher.

The second that he slips his fingers completely inside of you, you know that it’s over.

Long, slim digits slide inside of you, searching for the one spot that will make you break, mouth still working over your clit, alternating between sucking and licking. “You like that?” he asks, gaze burning, studying your expression.

“Yes, yes, don’t– nn, don’t stop,” you moan, hips moving unconsciously. “Baek—!”

He groans against your skin, and the sound of his voice, usually so light and airy, pitched lower with thinly disguised desperation, sends a new wave of arousal pulsing through you. “My hair,” he gasps, pulling away from you for a second. You look down to meet his gaze and are nearly bowled over by the sight of him: expression dark and thick with lust, lips pink and wet, dripping with you. “Put your hand in my hair.”

Your fingers sink into the soft locks of his hair, pushing his face against you. You’re practically riding his face now, but you don’t care, can’t care when it feels so good. WIth a final cry of his name, his mouth and his fingers bring you to the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you, crackling like static in your veins. Your back bows, arching into him, your grip on his hair borderline painful. He keeps going, prolonging the pleasure until it becomes too much and you’re softly pleading for him to give in.

“Holy fuck,” you say finally. 

“Good?” he asks. You look down to find him smirking playfully, equal parts annoying and endearing. 

“Solid 8 out of 10,” you reply. “Always room for improvement.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and gets up, handing you your clothes from the side of the bed. “I just gave you head and you wanna be smart with me.” He stands and your eyes widen when you see his sweatpants. 

He’s hard as fuck.

“Do you want– um–” Your eyes flick away, trying to look anywhere but at it.

“Nah, it’s all good,” Baekhyun replies easily. If he’s embarrassed, he doesn’t show it, even if his voice sounds rough with need. “This was supposed to be for you.”

“Oh. Okay.” The reminder of all this is— a one-time favor— hits again. You try to pretend that you’re not disappointed. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, but I get to pick.” He nudges you to scoot over and slides into bed next to you as if nothing’s changed, as if things are going to go back to normal just as easily as they had skewed from it.

Things don’t go back to normal. 

How could they? Both of you had been too stupid, too naive (too hopeful?) to think otherwise. Baekhyun casts glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, and you find yourself zoning out into his face until he has to snap in front of you. When he feeds you a bite from his meal, as he always does, you notice the way that he swallows, gaze drifting to watch your lips close over his fork.

It’s torture. You can’t even get yourself off without thinking about the feeling of his mouth on you. Seeking other people is out of the question entirely because now that he’d shown you exactly what you’d been missing, how could you ever settle for anything less? You throw yourself into anything you can: work, exercise, picking up abandoned hobbies. Anything to get your mind off of him, off the sound of his voice when he’s turned on, the feeling of his hair in your fist…

“Are you like… okay?” 

You blink back to reality, back from where you’ve been watching Baekhyun walk to the restroom, back to focus on Kyungsoo in front of you. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, eating a fry to distract yourself. “Just been a bit distracted lately.”

Across the table, Kyungsoo narrows his eyes inquisitively. “Distracted by… Baekhyun?” he says carefully.

You deflate. “Is it that obvious?”

“Um… yes? I feel like I’m third-wheeling the two of you more than usual.”

“Soo…” You put your head in your hands and whine. “I need to tell you something but you can’t tell anyone and you need to be normal when Baek comes back.”

“No promises.”

“We… hooked up. Sort of.”

Instead of any sort of reaction of surprise, Kyungsoo just blinks at you. “Oh. You haven’t been hooking up this whole time?”

“What?!” You lower your voice when the neighboring tables whip their heads to look at you. “Is that what people think?”

“People think that you guys are full on together and have been for years,” he deadpans. 

“Well, you know that we’re not, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he shrugs. “But there’s always the possibility that things are happening beyond my knowledge.”

“What do I do?” 

Kyungsoo pauses. “Are things just awkward now? If it’s that, then I think it’ll fizzle out on its own.”

“No, it’s that… I think I kind of like him? Or at least want to hook up with him again. And I think that maybe he also wants to?”

“So hook up again.”

In the corner of your eye you see Baekhyun leave the restroom so you adjust your posture, stealthily raising your eyebrow towards him so that Kyungsoo knows he’s coming. “It’s not that easy, Soo.”

“I think it is,” he replies, then clears his throat before raising the volume of his voice. “Anyways, did you want to get dessert?”

“Ooh, you guys are talking about dessert?” Baekhyun slides into the booth next to you, stealing a fry off your plate easily. “Can we split a slice of cheesecake?”

“Get your own slice, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says. “Last time you hogged it all.”

Baekhyun splutters in protest, and you laugh, ignoring the way that your heart squeezes.

“You wanna come by my place for a bit? Watch a movie?” Baekhyun asks. 

When Kyungsoo left the car just moments ago, it’s as if he took all of the easygoing nature of the hangout with him. Now the atmosphere is heavy, wrought with tension so thick you can practically taste it. Baekhyun drums his fingers against the wheel anxiously. 

You could say no. You have to do your grocery shopping tomorrow, your place is a wreck and you need to do a deep clean, you don’t have any of the belongings you need to stay overnight (which is a complete non-issue. You’ve had extra clothes and a spare toothbrush at his for as long as you can remember). You’re not stupid: you know what will end up happening if you stay the night.

But a part of you that you aren’t quite ready to reckon with yet wants it.

“Sure,” you say. 

Neither of you are paying attention to the movie that he throws on when you get there. His arm around you is nothing new, his knee knocking against yours is familiar territory, but it all feels so different now. You’re hyperaware of everything: every shift he makes, every time he clears his throat. 

Your heart hammers in your chest, beating behind your ribcage with a ferocity you’ve never known before. Calm down, you think. This is Baekhyun. This is Baekhyun and this is normal and we’re just best friends–

He calls your name.

Softly. Pleading. 

When you turn towards him, his face is so close that you can count every individual eyelash, see every mole on his face in spectacular detail. The soft glow from the lamplight bathes him in gold. His gaze drifts down, down towards your mouth, his lips parting ever so slightly.

Fuck it.

Before you know it, you’re straddling him, thighs bracketing his hips. You throw your shirt over your head and unclip your bra, shuddering slightly when he splays his hand across your side. His lips dip toward yours and you pull away in a panic.

“No kissing,” you whisper.

He exhales harshly, almost like a laugh, before he diverts his pathway to your neck. “God, you drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, pressing kisses down the column of your throat. His hands reach up to cup your tits, brushing your nipples under his thumb. 

You roll your hips down, pressing yourself against his hardening cock with increasing intensity. “Shit,” he hisses, pulling away. “Lay down for me.” He pushes you gently onto your back, discarding his clothing and the rest of yours in the process. His fingers enter you slowly, stretching you out as he covers your body with his. 

“You’re so obvious, y’know?” he chuckles against your skin when you whine. “Practically giving me fuck me eyes every damn day.”

“Fuck you.” Your voice holds no malice, not even a little bit of bite, going breathy around the edges when he thrusts his fingers in deep. “You’re not any better. I saw you looking at my ass the other day.”

“Can you blame me?” He pulls out and positions you so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his cock positioned at your entrance. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately thrusting into you at a brutal pace. It’s messy, frantic, your blood thrumming through your veins. You gasp, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life, each thrust pushing you deeper into the couch cushions.

“Holy fuck,” you moan, your head falling back. “Just like that.”

“Yeah?” he grunts, his fringe hanging low over his eyes, casting the top half of his face in shadow. “Tell me how good it is.”

You don’t even have it in you to make a smart comment back, too bowled over by the quick pace and the mounting pleasure. “S-So good, Baek. Don’t stop.”

He pulls out of you momentarily just to drape your legs over his shoulders, practically bending you in half when he re-enters your slick pussy, caging his arms around your head. The position makes you feel so vulnerable, so completely under his will that it sends a thrill up your spine. 

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of keeping up the pace, “just how much I’ve thought about you since that night? Can’t get the fuckin’ taste of you out of my head.”

You whimper at the heat of his confession. “Me too,” you say. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Never had anyone like that.”

He chuckles, slowing his hips until he’s just grinding into you. “And what about this? Any of those assholes fuck you this good?” 

You shake your head, subtly arching into him, trying to get him to resume his pace. “Never. Keep going, need more.”

“Gonna have to hear you say ‘please,’” he teases.

“God, please,” you gasp. “Please, I want it.”

He fucks into you like he has something to prove, moving his hips with devastating precision. His control is slipping, you see it in the way that his jaw tenses, feel it in the way his hips start to stutter. You’re no better— with every minute, you feel your orgasm threatening to overtake you, the overwhelming heat coiling low in your stomach. 

“I’m close,” you whisper. 

“Me too,” he says, voice breaking. He snakes his hand around as best as he can to reach your clit, the pad of his finger brushing the sensitive nub. “With me, please. Wanna feel it.”

You unravel together, bodies curled in on one another. It rolls through you in waves, white-hot pleasure that makes your vision turn to static around the edges. His fingers dig into your sides, breath hot as he pants against your collarbone, emptying himself inside of you.

You don’t even have a moment to catch your breath before he’s pulling out and kneeling on the floor, draping your legs over his shoulders once again. “What are you— fuck!” Your oversensitive body twitches when he puts his tongue against you, sealing his lips over your clit and inserting two fingers inside. 

“I need to taste you again,” he pants. Desperate, needy in a primal way that makes you dizzy. “Please.”

Your moans turn to full-on whimpers as he brings you back to the edge in record time, squeezing your eyes shut as you tremble through it. You cum with a shout of his name, gripping his hair between your fingers. 

Then, as your body comes down to Earth, the reality of what’s happened starts to dawn on you.

Uncertainty settles in before anything else. You shift so that you can meet Baekhyun’s gaze, but to your amazement, you don’t see your own hesitance reflected back at you. He smiles at you easily, charmingly, as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out.

“You alright?” he asks. “Was it too rough?”

“No,” you say, voice hoarse. “Can you get my clothes?”

You get dressed in silence, watching the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his shirt over his head. What the fuck just happened? Last time was just a one-off, a favor. But this?

“Can we talk about this?”

Baekhyun’s easygoing facade slips for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, sit down.” 

You sit down next to him on the couch—the couch where you had just had sex, what the fuck?—and take a deep breath. “Where are we going with this? The sex and stuff?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you want it to go. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I just want to make sure that we’re on the same page about, y’know, expectations and stuff.”

Baekhyun chooses his next words carefully before reaching over and putting his hand on top of yours. “We can always stop and I won’t be upset or disappointed. But if you’re open to it, I would really like to keep doing this.”

“I’m just scared it’s going to change things for us.”

“Nothing will change,” he whispers, smiling. “You’re still my best friend.”

And the way he looks at you… how can you be expected not to believe him?

It becomes a routine. 

Frantic quickies at 3am, lazy morning sex, even in the back of his car after a party. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can’t keep his hands off of you. Nearly every time you’re alone together, your clothes end up discarded, forgotten on the floor. He learns his way around your body quickly, until making you cum is second nature, as easily as making you laugh. You’re not a bad student either: you learn that he really likes it when you beg, loves it even more when you say his name right before you shatter on his fingers, on his lips, on his cock.

One more time turns into two more times turns into five. Full days pass where the two of you spend all day in bed, lazily dozing in between sessions until you remember that there actually is an outside world that you have to attend to. You’re running out of turtlenecks to wear to work, the only clothing sufficient enough to hide the constellations of love bites across your neck and chest.

Despite all this, he’s still your best friend. You still swap inside jokes, still annoy the hell out of each other. He’s still your comfort person, your safe space, even as you become more vulnerable with him than you ever thought possible. 

It’s another lazy night following a lazy day spent in bed. You trace abstract patterns on his back absentmindedly when he perks up suddenly. “I’m bored,” he says. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“Right now?” you ask. “It’s dark out.”

“We’ll just walk to the park and back. What, you don’t think I’ll protect you if any monsters come out of the shadows?”

To Baekhyun’s credit, the park is actually well-lit at night. You take the winding trail through the trees slowly, with all the time in the world. You still find things to talk about, even after years of friendship, after all the hours that you’ve been spending together recently. 

“Do you hear that?” Baekhyun asks. And you do, the sounds of live music drawing closer and closer. As you approach the gazebo, you see an older man sitting inside, playing his guitar. 

“Hey, isn’t this–?” you say.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen in recognition before a smile spreads across his face. “Oh yeah!” 

A high school dance, one of the few that you attended, you can’t remember which one. You had both been rejected by your crushes and ended up having to go with each other. During the slow dance to this very song, the two of you decided to dance together but could not for the life of you stop giggling. Dirty looks were cast your way by the other couples on the dance floor, but you kept snickering into his shoulder, and he kept muffling his laughter in your hair.

“Shall we dance?” he asks, holding his hand out in an exaggerated manner.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” you curtsy before taking his hand.

It starts out the same way, all giggly and joking, Baekhyun twirling and dipping you until your head spins. You see the old man cast a smile your way and you nod at him as he continues playing. “Beautiful!” he shouts.

“Isn’t she?” Baekhyun laughs.

And maybe it’s the way that you become aware of his steady hand on your waist, maybe it’s the way that his eyes crinkle up at the edges when he smiles. But all of a sudden, you become painfully, horribly, much too aware of the fact that you are definitely, without question, in love with him. 

When had it all changed? Somewhere among all the times that you were under him? In between the whispered praises, the affectionate touches? Or maybe, God forbid, were the feelings there all along?

It doesn’t really matter in the end. All that you know is that everything is different now. It’s as if the world ceases spinning, time slows to a crawl. You’re in love with your best friend. The realization is enough to knock the wind out of your chest.

Baekhyun tilts his head at you questioningly. “You okay?” he murmurs, eyebrows creasing with concern. 

You just nod. Your emotions are so stuck in your throat that you’re afraid to answer. The gentle strumming of the guitar stops, leaving the two of you in the silence of the night. 

“What’s up with you?” 

You blink and find Baekhyun staring at you, concerned. “Nothing,” you reply.

“You’ve been so quiet lately,” he says. “Distant.”

“Just have some things on my mind.” You can’t, won’t meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since that night in the park, and all of your energy has been focused on keeping everything normal. The way it always was, the way it always should be. But your mask has been slipping lately, wearing your irritation on your sleeve, spacing out more than usual. Baekhyun’s too perceptive to have gone this long without noticing. 

He turns back to the TV, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth the way he does when he’s thinking. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” And for a moment, you feel your heart rate start to pick up, fluttering with hope. You know that I have feelings for you, right? You imagine how those words would sound coming from him. Would he say it in a serious way? Or with that same, lighthearted confidence that’s permeated your entire friendship?

“That I’m seeing someone.”

You didn’t think it was possible for your entire world to shatter with just four words. He has the audacity to look surprised when you gasp, an ugly, strangled sound in the back of your throat.

“Is that… not what–”

“What?”

“I’m sorry!” he splutters. “I thought you figured it out and that’s why you were pulling away–”

You stand up and pace across the room, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Shielding yourself from him. “Since when?”

“For like a month,” he says quietly.

“Baek… we hooked up so much in the past–”

“I know.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks down, frustrated. “I know. But we’ve really just been talking and only went on a couple dates and just decided that we should be exclusive. Like literally last night.”

You laugh bitterly. “So we have to stop, then. Thanks for the fucking heads up, I guess.”

“Stop what?” 

You look at him as if he’s grown two heads. “Are you joking?”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “If you’re asking me if we have to stop having sex, then yes, we have to stop having sex.”

“No shit, Byun.” You sigh, a clusterfuck of emotions rising like bile in your chest. “But where does it stop? We’re going to have to stop hanging out, she probably won’t like it if we hang out at all.”

“Okay, hold on.” Baekhyun stands and grabs you gently by both shoulders, forcing you to look at him. “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions. I love you, but please calm down.”

I love you. It hits you like a slap to the face. “Don’t say that.”

His face twists with pain. “I know you hate when I tell you to calm down but I need you to hear me right now. Nothing’s going to change. We just have to stop hooking up, okay?”

Of course he doesn’t even register that the calm down part of the sentence wasn’t the part that bothered you. “Right. Remember what happened the last time we said nothing was going to change between us?”

Baekhyun falls silent, grappling with the right words to say. Finally, he settles on, “Please. Please don’t hate me for this.”

You throw your hands up in frustration, twisting out of his grip to grab your bag and head towards the door. “I don’t know, it kinda feels like you’re breaking up with me right now.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice hardens instantly. “We’re friends. We’re just best friends.”

“Best friends don’t do this!” you yell. “They don’t have morning sex or dance with each other at the park or have sit down conversations saying that they have to stop hooking up because one of them started seeing someone. They just don’t.”

“So what are you saying then?” he says, tone sharp enough to cut with, dripping with malice. “That you’re in love with me or something?”

Your breath hitches. The way he says it as if it’s something so terrible.

“What if I am?” Your voice cracks, small and pathetic. 

He melts instantly, all the venom sucked out of him in one go, and you see your best friend again. “Oh.”

Humiliation spreads like a virus in your chest. So he didn’t know after all. 

“I’m so sorry–”

You throw your bag over your shoulder. The second your back turns to him, the hot tears fall down your face. “It’s fine. Just forget it.”

“Wait, please–”

“I said forget it.” You head towards the door without another look back at him, slamming it shut behind you. You almost want to wait to hear the hurried footsteps behind you, but you can’t stand the thought of waiting in that cold, empty hallway, waiting to be followed by someone who would never come.

The calls stop after the third day.

Before the silence, he calls every hour on the hour. You listen to a few of the voicemails from the first day. Hi, can we please talk about this? I don’t want to lose you. Please. After a while, it gets too painful to hear his voice, and the number of unopened voicemails ticks higher and higher until they don’t anymore. 

You hardly leave your apartment as weeks go by. It hadn’t occurred to you before now just how much time you had been spending with him. Your days feel emptier now, lacking a spark that he always brought. The silence of your empty place feels almost oppressive. 

The thought comes into your mind one night when you’re burying your feelings into a pint of ice cream that this must be what it feels like to be heartbroken. You laugh a bit at the irony– you always figured that the first time you would experience this, you’d at least have the solace of your best friend to crawl to.

A rapt knocking at your front door brings you out of your stupor and your heart leaps into your throat. You sit frozen for a few seconds before the knocking comes again. Before you can think about it too hard, you’re on your feet bounding towards the door.

“Baek, I–”

“Uh, hi?”

It’s not Baekhyun on the other end, but Kyungsoo, who looks a little startled at your appearance. “I was getting a little worried about you, you haven’t answered any of my texts.”

“Oh, um… you can come in. It’s a bit of a mess.”

Kyungsoo looks around your place as he steps inside, littered with trash and piles of laundry. You have half a mind to be embarrassed about it, but he just looks with concern, free of judgement. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

You tell him everything, trying your best not to trip over your words, determined to get through the story without crying. Kyungsoo listens silently, nodding when appropriate, but never makes a move to interject. Finally, when you’re done, and the lump in your throat feels almost too large to bear, he says, “So you haven’t contacted him since this happened?”

“No.”

“And he just sent a bunch of voicemails, didn’t text, didn’t show up here?”

“Yes.”

“And you… want him to?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Your head sinks into your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your closed eyelids. “I don’t know what I feel right now. I just wish that we never did anything to begin with so I never had to realize these feelings.”

“Well… we can’t take it back. And I think it’s obvious now that things have changed, so… now all that’s left to do is renegotiate the terms of the relationship.”

“But what if…” Your voice comes out small. “What if I don’t like his terms? What if he doesn’t like mine?”

You feel a gentle hand on your back. “You won’t know until you talk about it. That goes for him too. He needs to be a better communicator. Jesus.”

You laugh wetly. “It’s something we’ve always had in common.”

“Avoidance attachment?”

When you peek up through your fingers, Kyungsoo’s smiling good-naturedly. “C’mon, get up. Take a shower and I’ll clean up a little.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you groan.

“I know. I want to. You don’t have a choice.”

The next time you hear a knock on your door, you know that it’s not Kyungsoo. 

Baekhyun smiles at you sadly in the doorway, already looking like he’s bracing himself for your rejection. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say. Your tongue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“I can leave if you want me to, and I won’t bother you again, I swear. I just thought I’d try to talk to you one last time?”

You swallow, then open the door wider. “Come in.”

He looks tired. He hovers around the corners of the room as if he doesn’t know this place better than his own. You get him a glass of water, and you sit awkwardly side by side on your couch. The silence is nearly unbearable, but thankfully, he doesn’t take very long to break it. 

“I broke up with her.”

You nod slowly. “When?”

“A day after everything,” Baekhyun says. “I told you in a voicemail, but uh, I assumed you were ignoring it or you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I didn’t hear it,” you admit. “But I never asked you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t have to.” Baekhyun takes a breath, fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “I was scared to admit that becoming physical with you had changed things between us. I thought that if I tried looking elsewhere that things between us could go back to the way they were.”

“You wanted things to go back?” you ask. 

“I thought that I would rather things go back to normal than to lose you entirely.”

“You kept insisting that things never changed,” you say. “You were the one that kept that boundary.”

“I know,” he sighs. He looks up at you, dark eyes broken. “I was a fucking idiot. I thought that if I kept saying it, I would believe it.”

“Couldn’t you feel it?” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, stinging the back of your throat. “Couldn’t you feel that I was falling for you?”

“I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it was my brain telling me what I wanted to hear.” Baekhyun laughs. “I’m such a mess. I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t.” You reach over and grab his hands. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, eyes glimmering with hope. “You didn’t ruin anything, Baek. I should have been more upfront with my feelings too. I shouldn’t have ignored your calls.”

Baekhyun worries his bottom lip between his teeth before speaking again. “So if you were to be more upfront about your feelings now, what would you say?”

“I would say…” You take a deep breath. “That I think I’m in love with you. And I want to try being something more than your best friend.”

His face breaks into a relieved grin. “I love you too. And I’m so, so sorry for everything.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I do,” he frowns. “I did a really douchey thing to you and I regret it—”

You cut him off by climbing into his lap, putting both of your hands on the sides of his face. His words die on his tongue, lips falling apart in awe, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. 

“Please,” you whisper. “Just kiss me.”

Soft lips meet yours cautiously, hesitantly. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close, deepening the kiss at the same time. He kisses you with care, like you have all the time in the world, moving his lips against yours perfectly in sync. 

And it’s so amazing. It’s unfair just how amazing it feels, how long you’ve denied yourself from being like this, from being with him. You melt in his arms, losing yourself in the rhythm of his lips, the soft gasps of breath in between, the warmth of his body against yours. 

You slip your hands into his hair and he groans, breaking apart from you for a second. “Don’t do that,” he murmurs. 

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I… I like it a lot.” He looks up at you through his lashes, exhaling shakily. “I just want to do this for a while and that makes it really hard for me to not carry you into your bedroom right now.”

You smile, rolling your hips down once, decisively, onto his lap before dipping down for another kiss. “No reason why we can’t do both,” you whisper.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen before he brings you in even closer, pressing his face into your shoulder. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Just making up for lost ti—ah!” Your hands scramble to grab onto his shoulders as he stands, carrying you to the bedroom. Your laughter echoes off the walls of your apartment as he walks, filling the place with the light that it sorely missed, that it won’t ever be without from this moment on. 

your throat is hoarse from screaming lyrics you didn’t realize you still knew by heart. your skin’s still buzzing, glitter catching on the collar of your top, sweat drying beneath your skirt.

baekhyun’s concert wasn’t just a show—it was an experience. a sensory overload. the kind that settles into your skin and stays there. the way he moved—fluid and precise, every step pulled straight from muscle memory and instinct—was hypnotic. the way he sang, breathless yet effortless. his visuals? unreal. almost unfair. 

and the way he engaged with the crowd? grinning, teasing, soaking up the screams like sunlight—yeah, that wasn’t just performance. that was a man doing exactly what he was born to do. an idol in every sense. and it was obvious—he loves it. he lives for it.

and you—loud, radiant, maybe a little too invested—could’ve sworn he looked right at you during woo. his gaze was sweeping, fluid, made to tease, but just for a second… it paused. 

row ten.

pink sequined skirt.

you froze mid-sway, breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, and you didn’t dare blink.

you told yourself it was wishful thinking. that you were just one face in a sea of thousands. but now, stepping out into the night air—still in that same outfit, skin buzzing like it’s holding onto his falsetto—you’re drunk on something more than just concert adrenaline.

your body still vibrates with the bass, your voice is hoarse from shouting lyrics like they were gospel, and your cheeks ache from smiling too hard for too long.

“oh my godddd, meeks, that was fuckin’ insane,” you pant, nearly breathless, practically levitating as you leave the venue.

your best friend, mika, laughs beside you—influencer, 125k+ on the gram, energy like a triple shot of tequila, dressed like the night owes her something. 

“oh, baby,” she purrs, thumb tapping her phone like she’s conjuring magic, “the night’s just getting started.”

her screen flares to life with a flood of unread dms—club logos, kiss emojis, a string of heart-eyes from guys whose names you don’t recognize but probably should. “should we go clubbing?” she offers, eyes glinting. “wanna hit up gravity?”

you hesitate. gravity always spirals. last time, you ended up in a stranger’s penthouse afterwards with three underground rappers and a girl who swore she was hyunjin from le sserafim’s third cousin twice removed.

but fomo’s coded into your dna, and baekhyun’s voice is still ricocheting through your bones. you told yourself you’d say yes to everything tonight. so you do.

you grin, breath catching with the kind of thrill that tastes like trouble.

“fuck it,” you say, two taps away from ordering the uber. “let’s go.”

the club is a blur of lights and bass. you barely make it past the velvet rope before you’re swept inside by the gravity of mika’s orbit.

she knows everyone. the guy at the door daps her up like they grew up together. the bartender winks and sends over a tray of drinks before you even reach the bar. the DJ in the booth flashes her a grin mid-set and changes the track to her favorite remix.

you don’t wait in lines and you never check prices. you exist outside of time when you’re out with her—just a blur of laughter, glitter, and beat drops that rattle your ribcage.

you dance like your heels don’t hurt.

like you didn’t just scream your lungs out at a concert two hours ago.

your skirt swings with every sway of your hips, sequins catching the light like tiny spotlights made just for you.

you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut, drunk on tequila and attention, your friends orbiting you like a constellation of bad choices and even better memories.

you feel pretty—head tilted back, hips swaying, alcohol warming your blood. a random guy tries to flirt and your friend yanks you away with a grin.

“nope,” she says. “we’re keepin’ it mysterious tonight.”

you’re drunk and dizzyo a quarter ‘til midnight when you check your phone and realize you should probably head home.

but then she leans in close and whispers, “wanna hit an afters at the ritz?”

she doesn’t say whose. she never does.

but that’s the thrill of it. the not-knowing. the possibility that tonight hasn’t even peaked yet.

you glance down at your drink—half-melted ice, lipgloss on the rim—and swallow what’s left. you’re sticky with sweat, eyes glassy, lips tingling from salt and lime. 

and yeah, maybe you should go home. but you’re not in the mood to be responsible especially when the night still feels electric.

so you grin, swipe your phone off the table, and say the words you always do when mika’s got that look in her eyes.

the suite looks like it was pulled straight from a luxury travel vlog—sleek, sprawling, and softly lit in golds and shadows.

there’s music playing low—something bassy and expensive, vibrating through marble countertops and plush velvet cushions. a tray of half-finished cocktails glows under the dim, amber light, and bodies are draped across designer furniture like they were born there. heels kicked off. dress shirts half-buttoned. laughter echoing from corners you’re not quite invited into.

you’re crouched near the minibar, pretending to fix the strap of your heel, feigning fascination with the towering bouquet of flowers that probably cost more than your rent, when you spot them—faces you vaguely recognize. not close enough to be certain, but… yeah. you’ve seen them before. maybe at the club earlier tonight. the way they move—relaxed, self-assured, like people who know they’re being watched.

you don’t overthink it. just assume that’s how mika got wind of this afterparty in the first place.

and then—something shifts.

a hum in the atmosphere. like the room just hit pause.

you glance up.

and there he is.

baekhyun.

but not in silk. not in silk or leather or anything made to kill. no stage persona. no spotlight.

just… soft.

he’s near the bar, dressed in an oversized grey hoodie with faded red letters stretched across the front. the collar hangs loose, offering a peek of a plain white tee underneath. a slouchy beanie hugs his head, and strands of bleached blonde hair curl out in fluffy wisps—just messy enough to look real. freshly washed face. no makeup. no filter.

he looks like he just stepped out of a hot shower. glowing, flushed, skin catching the warm golden light like it’s gilding him from within.

he doesn’t see you. not yet. he’s nursing a drink, sleeves pushed to his elbows, shoulders relaxed in that way people get when they’ve finally made it to the other side of a long night.

and then—click.

your eyes flick across the room again. those familiar faces lounging on velvet sectionals, sipping cocktails and laughing like they’ve done this a hundred times before—now you get it.

you hadn’t realized it earlier. hadn’t connected the dots.

but now, with baekhyun standing there—unguarded, undeniably real—it all snaps into place.

this is his afterparty.

those are his people.

you tear your gaze away, forcing your attention to the condensation sliding down a bottle of sparkling water like it suddenly holds the answers to all of life’s questions. anything to keep from staring at the man who just quietly turned your whole night inside out.

you don’t expect him to move—to notice you. definitely not to approach. but he does, of fucking course he does, like the universe just couldn’t resist handing you this plot twist wrapped in cozy grey cotton and freshly washed hair.

“you always this mesmerized by sparkling water?” his voice drifts in from beside you—low, easy, just amused enough to make your pulse trip.

you blink, caught in the act. the bottle suddenly feels like a spotlight. heat crawls up the back of your neck.

“i wasn’t staring,” you blurt, too quick, too defensive—and not at all what he asked.

baekhyun hums, a quiet chuckle under his breath. “didn’t say you were.”

you glance at him—and instantly regret it. he’s even more beautiful up close. skin dewy and flushed from the shower, hoodie soft around his frame, eyes sharp and curious beneath the shadow of his beanie. he smells like detergent and something warmer—clean skin and cologne clinging faintly to the cotton of his hoodie.

“what are you doing at this party, anyway?” you ask, shooting for nonchalant but landing somewhere breathless. “shouldn’t you be off… i don’t know, being famous somewhere?”

he grins—wide and unapologetic. “my team booked out the whole floor,” he says, like it’s the most mundane thing in the world. “so technically, i am where i’m supposed to be.”

you let out a quiet snort. “that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

he studies you—really studies you—like he’s trying to file you into a box but hasn’t quite found the right label yet.

“you here with someone?” he asks finally, voice still casual, but there’s a hint of curiosity threading through it now.

“my friend got the invite,” you say, keeping your tone even. “i just tagged along. didn’t even realize whose afterparty it was until…” your eyes flick toward him. “well. until i saw you.”

that earns you his full smile—not the rehearsed kind, but something softer, looser at the edges. whatever guarded suspicion he’d been carrying eases, replaced by a flicker of something else. amusement. maybe interest.

“so you’re not here to corner me for a selfie? no skincare interrogation?” he teases, brows lifting.

you huff a laugh. “i mean, the skin is suspiciously clear. but no.”

his grin tugs wider. he tilts his head, studying you a little longer than necessary. “you were at the show, though… right?”

you pause—then nod. “yeah.”

his eyes drop for a second. “thought so,” he murmurs, voice dipping just enough to make your breath stutter. “that pink skirt’s kinda hard to miss.”

your heart stumbles over itself.

“well,” you manage, “you put on a good show.”

“thanks,” he says, smiling like he means it. “wanna sit? it's quieter over there,” he nods toward a closed off corner of the suite—where the music’s softer, the city’s glittering outside the wide floor-to-ceiling window, and a plush couch waits like it’s part of the plan. 

you blink. “with you?”

he grins. “unless you’re still committed to bonding with that water bottle.”

you settle onto the couch, leaving a polite gap between you—respectful, casual, not too eager.

baekhyun drops down beside you a moment later. easy. relaxed. his knees part just enough to ground him, like he’s done this a hundred times, but somehow doesn’t feel rehearsed.

for a beat, he just sits there, sipping from his glass. then, gently, like he’s not sure if it’s too forward:

“so… what’s your name?”

you tell him.

he nods, eyes flicking down for a second like he’s committing it to memory.

a quiet pause.

then he glances over again, one arm resting along the back of the couch. his fingers drum lightly against the cushion, and there’s a flicker of something playful in his voice.

“do you usually show up at strangers’ after parties, or is tonight a special case?”

you let out a soft laugh. “you’re not exactly a stranger. i’ve seen you shirtless before. on a jumbotron.”

he huffs a small, nose-scrunching laugh. “ah, so we’re skipping introductions and going straight to shared history.”

“basically,” you say, lifting your drink. “we're practically close friends.”

he smiles wider, the boyish kind that starts in his cheeks before it reaches his eyes. “great. and here i am looking like i just rolled outta bed.”

your eyes flick over the hoodie and the slouchy beanie barely hanging onto his bleached hair. “you mean your softboy fit?”

“hey,” he says, mock-wounded. “this is premium downtime aesthetic.”

“sure,” you murmur into your glass. “total heartbreak fit.”

he grins, turns his body slightly toward you, eyes crinkling. “don’t say that like it isn’t working.”

you’re smiling before you even realize it. the banter flows easier than you expected—natural, not forced. and the longer he talks, the more you notice things. like how deep and calm his voice is when he’s not performing. how he pauses before answering, like he actually thinks about his words. how his fingers tap lightly against his glass, how he nods when you talk, really listens.

he starts telling you about this tiny bunsikjeom he swears by back home—some blink-and-you-miss-it shop tucked between a laundromat and a vet clinic. he goes on about how their tteokbokki is the best and how the ajumma there hates him, like genuinely scowls whenever he walks in.

“i always order, like, five portions of odeng. just for me,” he says, eyes wide, hands gesturing like this is life-or-death. “and she always yells, like—‘yah! save some for other people!’ but then she gives me extra anyway. she pretends she’s mad, but she totally likes me.”

he grins, ducking his head a little. “i think she worries i don’t eat enough.”

you raise a brow. “you’re ordering five skewers and she still thinks you’re starving?”

“exactly,” he says, mock-offended. 

you ask if fame ever gets lonely. he doesn’t dodge it.

“yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “but i’m used to being alone. i think i’m better at being with people now, though. or... the right people.”

you blink at that. it’s quieter than the rest of the conversation. unpolished. a little vulnerable.

and it hits you—he’s nothing like the stage version of himself. not the flirty idol who winks at cameras or sings with syrup in his voice. he’s calmer. sharper. grounded.

even the way he drinks feels different. slow. deliberate. not for show, just... because he’s thirsty.

you look at him again. really look.

and for a moment, you just sit with it. the quiet between you, the city glowing beyond the glass, the weight of something undeniably real blooming beneath the surface.

you don’t speak. you don’t need to.

because somewhere between the last laugh and the next sip of tequila, time starts to slip. the minutes blur, slow and easy, like the night’s decided not to rush. you’re both tipsy now—flushed, relaxed, limbs loose. the music plays soft in the background, and the suite glows warm and golden, like dusk frozen in place. it feels quiet. suspended. like everything outside of this cozy little corner of the suite has been paused.

he’s charming, but not in the curated way you expected. 

it feels private—like he’s peeling himself back one layer at a time just for you. less idol, more man. his voice is low, his stories surprisingly unfiltered, and he’s funny—actually funny, not just media-trained clever.

you find yourself leaning in before you realize it, pulled toward the gravity of his presence like he’s something your body already knew how to orbit.

he smells like warm skin and sugared spice—notes of something expensive laced with the earthy ache of man. every time he shifts, you catch more of it, and it’s dizzying.

you weren’t prepared for this. for him.

genuine. confident in a way that doesn’t beg for attention. grounded, but just enough ego to be dangerous.

not the distant, idolized version of baekhyun the internet likes to dissect in thinkpieces and fancams.

this version is real. present. and somehow even more disarming.

“so,” he says, glancing sideways, “tell me something that’s not small talk.”

his voice is low, unhurried.

you blink. “what, like… my credit card number?”

you smile, finally letting your shoulders drop a little. “okay, fine. i always cry during the last twenty minutes of ratatouille.”

baekhyun turns to face you more fully, brows lifting. “what gets you? the rat’s speech?”

“no, it wasn’t remy,” you say with a scoff, nudging his knee lightly. “his name is remy, first of all.”

he laughs—really laughs—and the sound curls warm in your chest. “ah, my bad. remy,” he echoes, grinning. “go on.”

you exhale, letting your gaze drift toward the glowing skyline beyond the glass. “it was the critic’s review. that part at the end where he talks about discovering something new, something unexpected, and how the world is always unkind to it.”

your voice softens, eyes fixed somewhere far away. “he says the new needs friends. and i don’t know—it hit something in me.”

baekhyun stays still beside you, his hand curled loosely around his drink, forgotten now.

“sometimes it just feels like... everything’s already been done. like no one’s waiting for what you have to give. and then this bitter old man eats a meal made by a fucking rat and suddenly he’s like—shaken. changed. reminded why he ever cared in the first place.”

you pause, then shrug, barely glancing at him. “i guess it reminded me that you don’t have to be expected to be meaningful. that you don’t have to be someone obvious to matter.”

baekhyun doesn’t say anything right away.

but something shifts in his expression. his jaw ticks, just barely. his lashes dip like he’s trying to hide the flicker of emotion behind his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give himself away.

because yeah—he fucking gets it. way more than you know.

not just the movie. not just the speech. but the whole aching truth of it.

he’s been living that risk lately—leaving the comfort of the company that built him, stepping out with nothing but belief and a dream that people might still show up for him. that what he has to offer—now, as he is—is still worth something.

he hasn’t said it out loud, not to anyone. but hearing you say it—watching you light up over something so honest, so deeply felt—it stirs something in him. makes him see not just the movie differently… but you, too.

you, sitting here in front of him, talking about hope like it’s something fragile and holy.

it makes him feel less alone.

and for the first time tonight, baekhyun forgets about being careful. about being cool.

he just looks at you like he’s seeing something rare.

something that might just change everything.

"you're not what i expected," he says, voice low—almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you glance over, one brow lifting as you tilt your head. “good unexpected?"

he doesn’t answer right away. just looks at you—really looks—like he’s committing your features to memory one slow blink at a time. eyes scanning the curve of your mouth, the slope of your cheek, the way the light catches the side of your face. and then, finally, he nods. once. small, certain.

you smile, warmth curling beneath your ribs as you lift your drink and finish the last sip. the glass makes a soft sound as you set it down on the coffee table. “funny,” you say, easing back into the cushions. “i was just about to say the same thing.”

his lips twitch, curiosity sparking behind them. “yeah? how so?”

you hesitate for half a beat, choosing your words. “you’re… calmer than i thought you’d be. softer.” your voice dips, gentling. “more real. the version of you on stage is fun—electric—but it’s not this.”

his smile stretches slowly, not wide but genuine, like the words settle somewhere deep in him. like maybe they mean more than you know. “so what you’re saying,” he murmurs, “is that i’m not the guy i pretend to be when everyone’s watching.”

you bump your knee lightly against his, a tiny grin playing at your lips. “exactly.”

his gaze drops, lingers where your thigh presses to his. and when he looks back up, there’s something darker swimming there—something thick with heat.

your breath catches.

a strand of hair sticks to the gloss on your bottom lip, and before you can even lift a hand, his fingers are already there—brushing it away, tucking it behind your ear like it’s second nature. like he’s done it before.

the touch is soft. reverent. but it sets something off inside you, deep and molten. like your body recognizes him before your brain can catch up.

his gaze holds yours, gold and liquid in the warm afterparty lighting, and this time, neither of you look away. there’s no posturing. no pretending. just... him. and you.

he leans in, slow. lips brushing yours—barely there. testing the space between you.

you don’t move.

so he kisses you.

it starts soft. tentative. like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to. but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens too fast, mouths parting, breaths catching, lips dragging, tongues meeting like they’ve done this before. like they remember.

your knees hook over his thighs without thought, your hips shifting, sliding into his lap like you were meant to be there.

and the second you settle—flush against him—he groans into your mouth, deep and wrecked.

“fuck,” he exhales, breaking the kiss just long enough to breathe, hands curling tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. like he needs to hold you steady or he might come undone.

you rock into him slowly, your skirt hitched high, the friction between your soaked panties and the heat straining in his sweats making your thighs tremble. your head tips back, a moan slipping out that you couldn’t hide if you tried.

his lips are on your throat now, jaw, collarbone—anywhere he can reach, desperate to taste more. his hands slide lower, gripping your ass with purpose, grinding you down like he’s starving. like this is the only thing that will satisfy the ache he’s been carrying all night.

“you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he mutters, voice shredded, fraying at the seams. “you have no idea.”

you’re seconds from cumming—lips locked, skirt hitched high, his grip on your thighs desperate, like he’s caught between dragging you closer and anchoring himself from completely losing it—when a voice slices through the air like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.

“uh, babe? you in here?”

you both freeze.

baekhyun’s mouth stalls against your jaw. your lungs forget how to work.

and then—

pure. fucking. chaos.

you scramble off his lap, nearly kneeing him in the balls in the process, tugging your skirt back down your ass like it’ll erase the last ten minutes. baekhyun shifts too, adjusting his sweats with hands that still shake a little. your lips feel kissed raw. your thighs ache. you don’t even want to know what your hair looks like.

mika stands just inside the doorway, one brow cocked, arms folded over her sparkly top like the mom friend she definitely is when necessary. her gaze sweeps over the scene—your smeared lipstick, baekhyun’s rumpled shirt, the space between you two charged and awkward, like the tension hasn’t quite settled. and you—frozen next to the couch like you forgot what to do with your body now that someone else is watching.

“meeks,” you squeak, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “hey.”

“hey yourself,” she says lightly, voice dipped in that syrupy sarcasm only best friends can perfect. “your phone’s dead. figured i’d check you weren’t, y’know…” she pauses, eyes sliding between you and baekhyun, mouth twitching. “kidnapped. or eaten alive.”

baekhyun lets out something between a laugh and a choke. you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

and then her gaze settles on him.

his bleached blonde hair is a mess—textbook post-makeout chaos. cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten, hoodie wrinkled like it’s been tugged in desperation. her gaze narrows. and you see it: the flicker. the click. the way realization sparks behind her lashes like a struck match. she knows.

of course she knows.

but mika? mika’s been around. she’s danced with indie film heartthrobs and ghosted rappers with stadium tours. she’s navigated VIP lounges and afters where NDAs are practically part of the dress code. she’s seen the famous, the infamous, and the almost-famous. and she’s never once made it weird.

so she doesn’t gasp. doesn’t scream. doesn’t say, “weren’t we just at his concert four hours ago?”

instead, she just raises an eyebrow—subtle, amused, dangerous—and shoots you a look that says i’m going to make you tell me everything.

then she shrugs. uncrosses her arms. casual as ever. “right. well. i’m heading out. you comin’ with or…?”

you look back.

and for the first time, really look.

bare skin—clean and fresh, faint traces of sweat still lingering at his hairline from earlier. his hoodie’s loose around his shoulders, the collar tugged slightly off-center, and his blonde hair sticks up in soft tufts where your fingers must’ve pulled through it.

he looks... manly like this. unstyled. real. almost heartbreakingly so.

and his eyes—they’re not teasing. they’re not flirty. not charming or rehearsed like they were earlier when he made you laugh into your drink. they’re quiet. open. like he’s asking something without saying it out loud.

you’ve never seen that look on him before.

not in music videos. not on stage. not even earlier tonight.

it’s not desire burning behind his gaze—it’s something softer. something closer to hope.

“stay a little longer, yeah?” he says, voice low. steady. like he’s giving you space to say no, but hoping to hell you won’t. “just for a nightcap.”

his thumb strokes your wrist again.

then, quieter—almost like he’s trying to make it casual, as if this isn’t something important—he adds, “i’ve got a charger for your phone you can use too.”

you don’t even realize you’re nodding until mika snorts.

“m’kay, text me when you’re done being ravished by kpop’s finest,” she calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave. “love you, don’t die.”

“mika!”

but she’s already halfway down the hallway, humming something that suspiciously sounds like ‘love shot.’

you glance back at baekhyun, cheeks burning, heart rattling behind your ribs.

he’s still holding your wrist, thumb brushing your pulse like he’s trying to soothe it—or match it. a crooked smile tugs at his lips, sheepish and flushed, whether from being caught mid-makeout or just the aftershock of it all.

like he hadn’t planned on you, but now he doesn’t really want to let you go.

his eyes find yours, soft and searching. there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t flash it like he does on stage or behind cameras. this one’s smaller. real.

he looks… relieved. maybe even a little stunned. like he’s not used to this—you. not just the kiss, not just the body heat, but the connection.

and there’s a flicker of something else in his expression too. not nerves exactly, but hesitation. like part of him is still processing that this is happening at all.

he rubs the back of his neck before reaching for you, voice low and careful. “i’m glad you stayed,” he murmurs, like it’s not something he says often. like it’s heavier than the words suggest.

his hand finds yours again, fingers brushing tentatively over your knuckles before he gently tugs you closer.

then he pulls you back into his lap, arms sliding around your waist, like it’s second nature—but his touch is more tender now. reverent. like he’s scared if he moves too fast, you might disappear.

you settle into him again, heart thudding, lips still tingling from the last kiss.

he exhales into the crook of your neck, voice barely above a whisper. “i-i don’t usually…” he trails off, his hold tightening slightly.

but he doesn’t need to finish.

you already know. 

and that truth—that rare, quiet truth—makes your chest ache in the best way.

you smile, and before you can say something to break the moment, he’s kissing you again.

but it’s different this time.

still hot, still messy, but it lingers. it asks. his mouth moves with reverence, his hands memorizing you, like he’s been starving for touch but terrified of being fed too well.

“woulda been devastated if you left,” he rasps, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice rough and trembling with restraint.

then he nips—right below it. soft and precise. you jolt, hips twitching instinctively in his lap.

his hand moves like it has a destination. slow, deliberate, up the curve of your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. his fingers trail higher—light and teasing at first, but the moment he reaches the warm heat between your legs, everything sharpens.

you gasp.

his fingers still.

there’s a pause, heavy and humming.

you don’t have to see his face to feel the shift—the tension in his body, the hissed breath through his teeth, the unmistakable clench of his jaw when he realizes—

you’re not wearing anything underneath.

his fingers flex, knuckles barely grazing your slick folds.

“shit,” he breathes, almost to himself. “you’ve been sittin’ on me like this this whole time?”

you don’t answer. can’t. your chest is tight, lungs barely remembering how to fill.

he draws his fingers through your arousal, slow and deliberate, collecting the wetness before withdrawing. he brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours. his fingers glisten in the dim light, your slick catching the golden hue as he lifts them to his mouth.

you watch, helpless, as he slides his middle and ring fingers between his lips and sucks them clean.

his eyelids flutter, then flutter open again—gaze dark and fixed on you like he’s starving.

“where have you been all my fucking life?” he breathes, like it’s hurting him, like your taste is something he might never recover from. 

his cock twitches beneath you, hard and heavy beneath the soft cotton of his sweats, straining for more contact—more of you.

you don’t answer him—not with words.

instead, you take his hand in yours, slow and sure, like it belongs to you now. your fingers wrap tight around his wrist as you guide him back down between your thighs, the same fingers still slick from earlier. you spread wider, shameless, hips tilting forward like your body already knows what it wants.

he groans the moment you press his fingers into your soaked heat again—your cunt so wet and eager that he slides in without resistance. 

your back arches, lashes fluttering, a breathy moan spilling from your parted lips as he starts to move.

once.

twice.

a third time—deep, slow, curling just right, the pads of his fingers dragging against every spot that makes you whimper.

he’s watching you like he’s in a trance. like you’ve crawled out of some decadent, filthy dream with your lipgloss smudged and your hips rolling like you’re possessed by pleasure itself. 

his eyes don’t leave your face.

they can’t.

you keep your hand over his, guiding the pace, the depth—controlling him like a toy you know exactly how to play with. his fingers stretch you just right, knuckles brushing your dripping folds, your slick making a mess on both your hands.

then you whimper. soft. broken. 

it shatters him.

you lean in, your lips brushing his while you take those same fingers—wet and warm and still pulsing from where they were buried—and bring them to your mouth. your eyes lock on his, gaze steady, daring.

you part your lips and wrap them around his fingers slowly, deliberately, letting the gloss that still clings to your mouth coat his skin again. your tongue swirls over the pads, collecting your own taste, savoring him. his rings are cold against your lips—a metallic tease compared to the wet heat of your mouth.

his hips twitch beneath you, jaw clenching so hard you see the muscle tick.

he twitches beneath you. hips jerk. his jaw clenches so tight, you see the muscle flicker.

and you don’t stop.

you keep grinding down on him—slow, steady drags of your soaked pussy against his cock, your clit catching on the thick ridge of him through his boxers. the friction is perfect. devastating. addictive.

his eyes darken. voice drops.

“fuck,” he growls again, this time lower, more dangerous. “that’s it.”

suddenly, his grip tightens on your thighs, guiding you off his lap with shaky urgency. you stumble a little, knees weak, and he stands with you—his hand firm at the small of your back, the other sliding down to grab your wrist like he needs you moving now.

“can’t take it anymore,” he mutters, voice hot against your cheek, his breath a mess against your skin.

“i need you,” he growls, voice thick, fraying at the edges. “need to feel you wrapped around me. need to fuck the sweet, messy heaven you made on my fingers straight outta you.”

you whimper—helpless, already unraveling—and before you even register how fast you’re moving, you’re there. the hallway blurs. your hand is still locked in his, his grip unrelenting, like if he lets go now he might not get you back.

your pulse slams behind your ribs. you’re dizzy with how fast everything is unraveling. you follow him on unsteady legs, hips brushing, feet tripping over each other in the rush to get to the bedroom.

he’s not carrying you. he doesn’t have to. because he’s pulling you through the dark with a grip that says come with me. now. 

he reaches the door to his room, throws it open with one swift motion. his eyes burn when they meet yours—dark, wrecked, entirely gone for you.

the door clicks shut behind you.

baekhyun’s on you in the next breath—hands cupping your jaw, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starving for it, for you. there’s no prelude. no hesitation. just heat and teeth and breath, his lips pressed hard against yours as he walks you backward, blindly, toward the bed. he groans into your mouth, dragging you with him like his hands can’t bear to let you go for a second.

the beanie he had on earlier? abandoned on the couch. long gone. forgotten the moment your sweet mouth touched his. his sweater comes off first, pulled over his head with a grunt and tossed somewhere behind him. then his sweatpants, shoved down with one hand, the other still gripping your hip like you might disappear.

you whimper when your back hits the mattress, but he’s already climbing over you—pressing himself between your legs, kissing you like he’s trying to devour the moans from your throat. and fuck, you're giving them to him. whimpers and gasps and needy little sounds he swallows down like they’re fueling him.

you straddle his lap, feel him hard and hot beneath his boxers, the outline of his cock pressing into your soaked panties. your hands explore in desperate sweeps—his toned stomach, the cut of his hips, the way his muscles twitch when you grind down just right.

his hands are everywhere.

on your ass, kneading.

on your tits, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples through your top until you’re arching into him, chasing the friction.

every stifled moan from your mouth makes him groan harder. every shift of your hips has him whimpering against your lips like he can’t believe this is happening.

you barely register the moment his hand slides down again. his fingers slip under your panties, push past the mess of slick already dripping for him.

two fingers, knuckle-deep, curling perfectly.

you cry out, hips jerking, grinding against the heel of his palm as his fingers fuck up into you—rhythmic, practiced, devastating. his palm rocks against your clit with every motion, and it’s too much. it’s all too much. he’s kissing you the whole time, tongues tangled, teeth clashing, spit messy between your mouths.

you ride his fingers like they’re his cock. pace quickening, hips stuttering, moans breaking against his lips as your thighs start to tremble.

“baek—fuck, i’m gonna!”

“cum for me,” he breathes, lips dragging down your neck. “cum all over my fingers, baby. wanna feel it.”

and you do—with a sharp gasp and a choked sob, your cunt clenches around him, gushing slick onto his hand. he holds you through it, lets you grind it out, rubs your clit as you shake and shiver above him.

he pulls his fingers out slowly, and you whine from the loss—raw, overstimulated.

but he just smirks, lifts his hand to his mouth, and sucks your release from his fingers like it’s honey. eyes on yours the entire time.

before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your back and spreads your legs wide.

“need my mouth on you. now.”

you gasp as he drops to his knees, throws your legs over his shoulders, and buries his face in your pussy.

he devours you like a man starved—tongue dragging slow and unrelenting through your folds, lips sealed around your clit like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste. every flick is deliberate. every suck sends sparks skittering down your spine. and when he moans into you—low, guttural, wrecked—it vibrates through your core like a detonator.

his hands are ruthless on your thighs, fingers digging deep, spreading you wider like he owns the view between your legs. like he’s earned this. and maybe he has, the way he fucks you open with his mouth—relentless, greedy, like your pussy’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

you come hard. once. then again. and then again, your vision going white at the edges, your voice splintering around his name like a prayer gone hoarse. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s back on you, dragging you higher, refusing to let you fall.

he’s obsessed. addicted.

and he’s not hiding it.

he lifts his head just enough to speak, chin wet, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust. “fuck,” he rasps, eyes locked on the mess he’s made of you. “you see this? see how you’re drippin’ for me? how the fuck am i supposed to stop now?”

his fingers slide back inside—two, then three—stretching you wide, curling deep. he finds your spot like it’s mapped in his muscle memory, like he’s been waiting his whole life to touch you like this. his mouth returns to your clit, licking with slow precision, sucking hard like he needs it to breathe.

“wanna fuckin’ die down here,” he murmurs against you, voice thick and ragged.

you sob his name, thighs trembling around his head, hips trying to jerk away from the overstimulation—but he groans at that. growls at that. hands dragging you closer, grinding his face deeper into your cunt like he’s chasing your next high through sheer force of will.

you cum again—this one violent, toe-curling, shaking so hard your hands can barely find his shirt. but they do. they grab, fist in the collar, tugging him up with desperation.

his mouth crashes to yours, wet and dirty, your slick still shining on his lips. the kiss is obscene. teeth, tongue, need.

and your hand’s already moving—slipping down between your bodies, palming the thick, aching bulge in his boxers.

“want it,” you gasp against his lips. “wanna feel you. want you inside me.”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched, a twitch of disbelief and desperate restraint cracking through his composure.

he exhales, like the words punch the air out of his lungs.

“how can i say no to you?”

his lips are still on yours when he lines himself up—boxers shoved down to his thighs, your legs draped open for him, panties tossed somewhere in the sheets. he strokes himself once, twice, teasing your entrance with the flushed tip of his cock, gliding it through your soaked folds.

“baby…” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “fuck, you’re so wet.”

you nod, lips parted, eyes barely open. “please, baek. now.”

he pushes in slow—inch by inch, thick and deliberate—letting you take every bit of him, your walls fluttering from how sensitive you still are.

you cry out, spine arching, nails digging into his biceps. he groans, low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“oh my god,” he breathes, jaw tight, hips shaking as he bottoms out. “you’re fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby—”

you whimper beneath him, completely overwhelmed—stretching around him, feeling every inch, the fullness dizzying. he stays still for a second, panting into your neck, like he's trying to pull himself back from the edge.

you clench around him again, needing more. needing movement.

he lets out a choked whine, lips brushing your skin, “fuck—feels like heaven,” he groans, voice wrecked. “you do that again and i swear i’m gonna cum just like that.”

your pussy tightens reflexively, and he moans into your throat—raw, helpless, feral.

you whimper again, your hips starting to move on instinct.

he matches your rhythm, slow at first—sensual, deliberate strokes that grind against every sensitive nerve inside you.

the room is humid with breath and want, skin against skin, the slap of his hips against your thighs growing louder as he fucks deeper, faster.

“such a good girl,” he rasps. “takin’ all of me like you were made for it.”

you fall apart again—loud, messy, clinging to him, heels digging in his lower back as your orgasm rips through you.

he fucks you through it, fingers tangled in your hair, kissing your tears away as you tremble and shiver beneath him.

round two hits different.

you’re pulled from sleep by warmth—his breath on your shoulder, the soft drag of his mouth kissing over your skin. 

you stir, barely, and feel his hand cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.

his other arm’s wrapped tight around your waist, fingertips trailing lazy circles down your stomach, then lower. he’s hard again—thick and pulsing against your ass, and he ruts into the curve of your body without even meaning to.

“awake?” he murmurs against your neck.

you hum. “barely.”

“c’mere,” he whispers, rolling you onto your back.

his face is soft in the low light. it must be five a.m.—still dark, sky a velvety blue beyond the hotel windows.

you reach for him, pull him down by the face, and your mouths meet again—slow, sleepy, sensual. he sinks into you with a groan, no warning, no teasing. just raw, aching need.

you gasp into his mouth. he starts thrusting in long, slow rolls, his pelvis grinding against yours at the perfect angle. every stroke sends heat curling in your belly.

he doesn’t say a word—just exhales against your lips like he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single breath. like if he kisses you any harder, you’ll know what he can’t put into words.

but it’s not enough.

you want more. need more.

your body moves on instinct—pushing him back against the mattress, crawling into his lap with slow, purposeful grace. your knees settle on either side of his hips, skirt riding up, your cunt slick and aching where it hovers just above the thick line of his cock.

his eyes drink you in like he’s never seen anything more stunning. heavy-lidded, lips parted, throat working around a breath he can’t quite catch.

“you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, voice low and reverent, his hands sliding up your thighs—gripping, kneading, tracing your skin like it’s holy.

you don’t answer. just sink down, slow and steady, taking him inch by thick, throbbing inch.

his breath punches out of him in a gasp, head thrown back, fingers digging into your hips. “shit—”

you ride him like you own him. hips rolling, bouncing, grinding down until your skin slaps against his with every thrust. the drag of his cock inside you is devastating—too good. too deep. and not nearly enough.

his moans grow ragged, sharp, the sound filthy in your ears. “fuck, baby—just like that. keep goin’. you feel so good—fuck, i’m gonna lose it.”

your hands brace on his chest, nails raking down the sweat-slick fabric of his shirt, chasing another high as your body trembles from the aftershocks. your pussy flutters around him, milking him greedily, overstimulated and still aching for more.

“cum for me again,” he groans, sitting up just enough to mouth at your tits, tongue dragging over your nipple through your top. “wanna feel you fall apart on my cock. wanna feel you drip down my thighs.”

and you do. again. helplessly. a cry ripping from your throat as you fuck yourself through the release, dizzy from how much he fills you. from how deep you need him. from how much you know this is going to ruin you.

and god—he loves it.

“baek—don’t wanna stop,” you pant, nearly sobbing. “feels too good.”

“then don’t,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard they might bruise. “fuck—ride me, baby, don’t stop.”

he thrusts up into you, losing control. the tempo turns messy, hungry, animalistic.

“god, you’re perfect—this pussy, fuck—it’s got me fuckin’ obsessed.”

you throw your head back, mouth open, eyes rolling as he slams up into you.

your cunt flutters around him again—tight, soaked, relentless—and he nearly loses control.

he’s shaking now, jaw locked, muscles flexing under your palms. everything in him winds tighter, like he’s seconds from snapping.

because how the fuck is this real?

he’s never felt like this. never needed someone the way he needs you right now.

he’s obsessed—with the way you smile mid-moan, with the soft whimpers that leave your throat every time he grinds into that perfect spot. your eyes—god, your eyes—rolling back, lashes fluttering like you’re seeing stars. your throat exposed when your head tips back in pleasure, that pretty, vulnerable neck he’s dying to mark up and call his.

it’s too much. too perfect. too you.

and when you fall forward, mouth crashing into his, the kiss is frantic—tongues messy, teeth clashing, like neither of you can get close enough.

your bodies are slick with sweat, pulsing with need, every nerve screaming.

and then he’s cumming. deep, thick, hard. his whole body jerks as he spills into you, hips grinding through the release like he’s trying to brand it into you—his claim, his worship, his fucking downfall.

and in that moment, nothing else exists. just the feel of you around him, shaking and perfect. just the sound of your breath in his ear.

and the quiet, terrifying realization blooming behind his ribs: you’ve already got him.

completely.

the room is quiet now. the only sound is your breathing—shaky, soft, slowing. his, too.

the sheets are kicked halfway down the bed, twisted around your ankles. your body’s still warm, flushed in places, marked in others. the air between you is thick with sweat and sex and something heavier neither of you has named.

baekhyun lies on his side, propped on one elbow. just… watching you. like he can’t not.

he brushes a damp strand of hair off your forehead, knuckles grazing your cheek. your lashes flutter, your lips part like you’re about to say something—maybe something dumb or playful or too honest—but nothing comes out. you just look at him.

and he’s struck silent all over again.

because fuck…

you’re so pretty like this. all wrecked and glowing, skin kissed raw, eyeliner smudged in the corners of your eyes. your lips are swollen from him, your pulse still visible in your neck where the marks are starting to bloom—places he’s already thinking about going back to. again. and again.

it wasn’t supposed to go this far. he was just supposed to party a little. blow off steam. it’s his first solo world tour—he’s been running on fumes and caffeine and pressure for weeks now. last night’s plan was to just fuck around a little, drink, unwind, and then move on to the next city like always.

but then you showed up.

the girl from the tenth row at tonight’s show. the one who danced like she didn’t care who was watching. the same girl he caught standing awkwardly at the bar at his afterparty, trying to act casual like she hadn’t just been screaming his lyrics a few hours earlier.

and now you’re here. in his space.

naked and tangled in his sheets, etched into the quiet of his night like you were always meant to be there. your chest rises and falls beneath blankets he never planned to share, in a city that meant nothing to him yesterday, and now feels like it’ll ache a little every time he thinks of it.

he exhales through his nose, slow and steady, voice soft against the quiet, “you good?”

you nod, lips tugging into a lazy smile, “don’t think i’ll be able to feel my legs for a few days.”

he grins, low and crooked, “yeah, me too. rehearsals are gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”

you both laugh—quiet, breathy, the kind that hums in your chest. and for a while, that’s enough. no words. no pressure to speak.

just stillness. skin against skin.

your fingers drift along the inside of his forearm, lazy and absentminded, like they’re just getting to know the shape of him. his hand rests on your hip like it’s always belonged there, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin—as if he's trying to memorize the curve of you before morning steals this softness away.

then your phone buzzes twice on the nightstand. sharp. insistent. a quiet jolt back to reality.

you glance over and notice the screen lit up, the charging icon glowing in the corner. he must’ve plugged it in for you while you slept.

something about that undoes you a little.

you shift, the weight of the moment settling over your chest. “i should probably go,” you murmur, not really wanting to.

but his hand doesn’t fall away. he just holds you a second longer—fingers tightening at your waist, like he’s still deciding if he’s ready to let you go.

“lemme get you a car home,” he murmurs, still breathless, hand grazing your hip like he’s reluctant to let go.

you nod, rolling onto your back, already feeling the loss of his warmth before he even moves.

he sits up, silent, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling his sweats back on. the soft sound of fabric, the creak of the mattress, the distant hum of the city outside—it all feels louder now.

you slide out of bed, slipping your top back on, fingers fumbling slightly at the hem. your panties are nowhere to be found. your heels are waiting by the door like they knew this was coming.

neither of you speaks as you both dress, the silence not uncomfortable—just full. full of everything unspoken. full of the way your body still aches from him.

you’re slipping your heels on by the door when something soft lands against your back.

you turn just in time to catch it—his hoodie. the same cozy grey one he wore to the afters earlier, still warm from his body.

you blink at him, lips parting, chest already tight with something you can’t name.

the hoodie smells like him—clean skin, faint shampoo, and something unmistakably you clinging to the fabric now. you pull it over your head. it swallows you instantly—the sleeves hanging past your hands, the hem brushing your thighs, heavy with the weight of the night still lingering in every thread.

his eyes follow the movement, lingering as you adjust it over your hips. 

he doesn’t say a word, but there’s a shift in his face—softened at the edges. like something quiet cracked open inside him.

he grabs the suite keycard from the nightstand and slips it into his back pocket like it's second nature. you’re still tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie, swimming in it, heart doing something stupid and fluttery in your chest when he glances back at you.

you follow him toward the door, and your hand just—finds his. like it was always meant to. he doesn’t say anything, just threads his fingers through yours and squeezes once. you don’t need words. not right now.

the hallway is quiet. like 3 a.m. quiet. the kind that makes everything feel softer, heavier. the elevator dings, and you both step inside. you expect silence. maybe a head-tilt goodbye. instead, his mouth is on yours again before the doors even close.

it’s slower this time. deep. his fingers slip into your hair, tug just enough to tilt your face up so he can really kiss you. and god, he does. like he means it. like he’s trying to burn the shape of your mouth into his memory just in case this really is the last time. your hands fist in his tee, your knees go a little weak. you sigh into it, drunk off him again.

there’s so much in this kiss. things neither of you planned. things he’s not saying. things you’re definitely gonna spiral about when you’re home and alone in your bed.

the elevator chimes again. he doesn’t let go immediately. just bites down on your bottom lip—gentle but deliberate—before he finally pulls away, breath still catching in his throat.

he keeps your hand in his as you both walk through the empty lobby. his thumb rubs slow circles over your knuckles, and it’s so stupidly sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself. outside, the air is crisp. the city’s winding down, the sky a soft blur of navy and gold. and the ache in your chest? yeah. that’s definitely real.

there’s a black truck waiting at the curb, engine humming low, windows tinted. you kind of hate how real it makes everything feel.

baekhyun walks you to the car without saying much, still holding your hand like it’s second nature now—like letting go would feel too final. when you reach the door, he opens it for you himself, his palm brushing the small of your back in that quiet, anchoring way. like part of him still isn't sure he wants you to leave.

you’re about to climb in when he pauses.

“i’ve got a couple more shows in the city,” he says, voice low and unreadable. his eyes flick up to meet yours. “if you’re around… and feel like crashing another afters.”

your heart stutters.

you look at him—white tee wrinkled from where you had your fists curled into it in the elevator, blonde hair still messy from your hands, from his own. he looks like no time has passed at all. like he could pull you back upstairs right now and you wouldn’t even hesitate.

you smile. “maybe.”

he nods, once. quiet. like that one word told him everything he needed to hear.

then he helps you into the car, his fingertips grazing your bare thigh as you settle into the seat. a soft touch. a question he doesn’t ask out loud.

he shuts the door gently behind you.

as the truck pulls away, you lean your cheek against the window, breath fogging up the glass. you try not to look back.

but of course you do.

he’s still there.

hands tucked into the pockets of his grey sweats, white hoodie sleeves pushed up, mouth unreadable. watching you go like he’s trying to memorize it—just in case you don’t come back.

your apartment feels too quiet when you walk in. 

not peaceful. not calm.

just quiet in a way that makes the whole night feel like something you imagined. like you’re stepping out of a dream barefoot.

you toe off your heels by the door, ankles aching, thighs sore in the best, most sinful way. your lips are still tender—kiss-swollen, tingling—and you’re swimming in his hoodie. oversized and worn soft, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing your upper thighs with every step.

your bag slips from your shoulder and lands somewhere near the kitchen counter. you don’t bother picking it up.

your phone buzzes the second you set it down. the screen lights up with notifications in a neat little stack:

instagram story likes. 

a dm from some guy you danced near at gravity. 

a flurry of messages screaming “YOU WENT TO REVERIE?! SO JEALOUS”

and then, of course—mika.

meeks 🦋

BITCH WHEN U GET HOME I NEED A PLAY-BY-PLAY!!!!! i saw the way he looked at u omfg i am unwell

you laugh under your breath, thumbs hovering over the screen—still unsure how to even begin explaining what the fuck just happened.

but then another notification rolls in from a contact you don’t remember saving.

B.

your brows pinch in confusion. you don’t remember saving that contact. 

you tap it open.

the first thing you see is a photo. a crisp, perfectly lit shot of an all access pass for the next two reverie shows in your city… and a sleek black suite keycard resting beside it on hotel bedsheets you recognize all too well.

beneath it, a message:

thought you might wanna crash again

your stomach flips.

you stare at the image, your thumb hovering over it like it might disappear if you blink too hard.

he must’ve done it—added his number into your phone sometime between kisses, between rounds, when you were half-dozing on his chest, legs tangled in the sheets.

quiet. sneaky. baekhyun.

a laugh escapes—disbelieving, giddy, a little breathless.

you bring the phone to your lips and smile, heart racing all over again. not from the concert. not from the alcohol. 

from this.

from the realization that you almost didn’t go.

you were tired. you were going to call it a night. but mika had to talk you into one more stop—just one more before heading home.

if you’d said no…

if you’d gone to bed like you planned...

you wouldn’t be here now, wearing his hoodie, smelling like his sheets, rereading a text from him.

your fingers hover over the screen for a second longer before tapping the heart on the image. 

you type back:

guess i’m yours for the next two nights then

send.

you sink into the couch, the weight of the night finally settling in your bones. you bury your face in the collar of his hoodie, still warm, still smelling like him—sweet skin and sweat and something that clings.

and for the first time all night, you’re so fucking glad you didn’t go home.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think i've got my edge back 😭😭😭😭 this one's for my fellow delulu girliez, hope ya enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe <333333333

“Don’t piss me off.” You overhear Kyungsoo say to one of the other line cooks, making you gulp nervously. “Who the fuck prepped these tomatoes?! They’re all crushed!” He continues cursing to his kitchen. 

You’re shitting bricks right now. You have to ask Kyungsoo a substitution question and you were guaranteed to be yelled at. You can feel your pits grow moist at the thought of confronting him. 

“Um, sorry. Kyungsoo?” You try to speak up but the dishes and sounds of pots and pans are deafening. You clear your throat. “Chef?” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Your lips fold into your mouth as you finally catch his attention. The very sight of you is enough to piss him off already. You can’t breathe. “What is it, princess? I better not hear the word substitution come from that mouth of yours.” 

Your lips press into a straight line before you take a deep breath in. 

“Um,” You hesitate. “Table 2 was wondering if they could change the eggs in the eggs bene to ham.” 

Fuck. 

Kyungsoo slowly looks up at you and fucking glares at you. You can feel the tears well up as he prepares to yell at you. You see his jaw tighten, trying to hold back the last bit of sanity he had before he goes off on you. 

“Are you a fucking idiot?” His brows are knit together. The whole kitchen has stopped or at least moved slower to hear the absolute chaos that’s about to ensue. “What the fuck is wrong with you that you would have the fucking balls to come here and ask me to sub the eggs in a fucking eggs bene. The answer is fuck off. Get out of my kitchen.” 

Your eyes are blurred by your tears. You run out of the kitchen, completely embarrassed. You run past your manager who seems genuinely concerned and speed straight for the bathroom. You hide in one of the stalls to fully let yourself cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You swear out of frustration, covering your face with your hands. 

You loved this job but ever since they hired this new head chef; your life has been miserable. You weren’t able to think straight. You were making rookie mistakes all over again: forgetting to print tickets, forgetting to bring people their ketchup, and most importantly, forgetting that you shouldn’t take what the mean line cooks say to heart. 

You couldn’t afford to quit this job. Literally everything else at this job was fun. You love talking to customers. You love your manager. You love the people you worked with. It was just him. 

You hate to be dramatic but this man made your life a living hell. 

You pull yourself together and take a deep breath in. “You can do this.” You encourage yourself. “Only 2 hours left.” 

You head to Table 2 to apologize on behalf of the kitchen for not being able to accommodate their egg allergy. “I would like to apologize but our chef is unable to substitute the eggs for- Is that ham?” You point at the customer’s plate, completely confused by the sight of the piggy meat sitting on top of the english muffin.  

“Yes, thank you so much for making this happen!” The customer beams at you, happily shoving a piece of his ham into his mouth. 

“Oh, of course.” You fake a smile before refilling his cup with water. 

You look back at the kitchen door, unable to piece what just happened together. 

The rest of your shift goes smoothly as you avoid going back to the kitchen for anything, asking your coworkers to grab any extra condiments for you instead. You’re helping close the front, mopping the last bit of the dirty floor when you hear the door swivel open. You watch Kyungsoo leave the kitchen with the same unfriendly face he always has. He almost passes you before you stop him in his step, lightly grazing his arm.  

“Thank you for making the sub.” You say, doing your best not to make your voice waiver.  

“Next time, lead with the allergy.” He replies, watching your hand on his arm. You drop it like his jacket is on fire. “Have a good rest of your day.” 

What a jerk. 

————

The brunch rush was extremely hectic this Monday. It was a long weekend which meant that there were a lot more people going out to eat than usual. You did not waste a single minute, making sure to refill everyone’s drinks, get everyone’s orders, and check on your tables regularly. You were finally getting your groove back.  

Until you make eye contact with the six-top at Table 5. 

Your eyes widen. Your chest drops to your ass. Oh, fuck me. You rush to the computer and type in their order as fast as you can. They’ve been waiting for 15 minutes and — 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You wince when you hear Kyungsoo yell through the walls. You need to hide. Quickly, if you still liked working here. You find yourself shuffling around, unsure of where to go next. You just refilled everyone’s cups. You struggle to find an excuse to hide amongst the customers. 

“Y/N!”  

Shit. 

You walk in the kitchen like a guilty puppy with her tail tucked between her legs. Your hands are clasped together behind your back, sweating profusely. Kyungsoo looks up and locks eyes with you, sad little puppy you. 

“Well, what the fuck? Is this your first time working during a rush? When a group of six comes in, you warn us. Is that so fucking hard for your pea-sized brain to understand? Fuck, you’re hopeless.” Kyungsoo’s voice grows louder, stronger, angrier. He’s fuming, his eyebrows raising every time he finds a new way to insult you. His eyeballs look like they want to pop the fuck out of his face. If this were a cartoon, there would be smoke coming from his ears. 

You can feel the tears well up again. Before you can even let them escape, you run into the walk-in fridge. There were way too many customers for you to hide in your usual spot. As soon as the door closed behind you, you burst into tears, falling to the ground and covering your face once again. 

“I’m such an idiot.” You whisper to yourself. The cold air feels refreshing after a good tearful cry. You take a deep breath, ready to go back out when the door opens. 

“Are you really hiding here when I just said there’s a rush?”  

You pout at the man who made you cry. He followed you in here too? He really will be the death of you. 

“I just needed a minute.” You swallow the bubble stuck in your throat. You wipe the remaining tears with your sleeves as you stand up. Your head lowers immediately when your eyes meet his intimidating pair. 

He stares at you a little longer and nods slowly. His arms are crossed, judging you from above. You can see why he got this far in life to work in a fancy brunch spot in the heart of the city. His stance was demanding, powerful.  

“I’m sorry. I forgot. I should have told you as soon as they walked in.” You can’t do anything now but apologize.  

He studies you for a second. You prepare for the next insult, for the next reminder that you are incompetent. Instead, he exhales through his nose. 

"Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You look up at him, surprised. Are these words of comfort? “It happens. Just try not to piss me off again.” Ah, there it is. 

He exits the cold room, leaving you alone. It’s weird. You don’t feel like a complete idiot anymore but you don’t feel completely comforted either. What you do feel is that Kyungsoo might not be a complete asshole. 

————

Life is so much easier with the new line cook (not Kyungsoo). The balance had been restored. When Sehun first called you princess and offered you free fries, you almost fell in love. Finally, a line cook who is acting the way he should be.  

You can tell it kills Kyungsoo every time Sehun defends you and says, “she’s just a girl”. To which Kyungsoo responds with “a girl without a brain”. It’s become somewhat fun and playful working with the kitchen. You haven’t cried since Sehun joined the kitchen staff and you are planning on keeping it that way. It’s great. 

You were opening the front today and hoping to get free breakfast from Sehun at this early hour. You skip to the kitchen with a gleeful smile, excited to see your new work husband. You immediately frown when he’s nowhere to be seen.  

“Oh, it’s you.” You’re met with a very serious looking Kyungsoo prepping the fruits, brows furrowed in complete concentration. The angry gremlin seems to have a sense of humour as he scoffs at your little comment. Not once tearing his gaze away from his stupid fruit. 

“No breakfast for you.” He practically sings mockingly, playful smirk appearing at the corner of his lips. You hope he doesn’t see you mock him, mouthing ‘no breakfast for you’ in the most condescending way. Sehun would’ve found it funny. 

"Devil’s spawn.” You mutter under your breath as you walk back to the front of the restaurant. 

You miss the way Kyungsoo chuckles as he continues to prep the ingredients. 

“Good morning my princess!” Sehun comes in through the front door right on time. Your eyes gleam, waving at him excitingly.  

“Morning Sehun!” You greet him happily. You look at him expectantly and flutter your lashes exaggeratingly. He laughs as he heads to the kitchen. You pout dramatically as he passes you. 

“Give me 5 minutes. I’ll make your burrito once I settle in.” Sehun peeks his head out the door. Your pout quickly turns into a bright smile.  

It grows a bit bigger when the small gap before the door closes reveals Kyungsoo glaring at Sehun. No breakfast for me, huh? You scoff to yourself before you start your day. You start by removing the chairs from the table. Then move on to cleaning and setting the tables.  

There has never been a better opener, you smile to yourself and admire your work. You head to the coffee station and start brewing the coffee. Sehun comes out just in time with two burritos in hand.  

“Oh thank you,” You practically moan. You’ve been craving this ever since he made it for you the first time you opened together. You take a bite. “Marry me?” 

“I already set the date, baby.” He beams, happy that you enjoy his cooking. He cheers his burrito with yours and takes a bite of his own. And you two eat peacefully together, standing behind the counter in fear of making a mess anywhere else.  

The peaceful bubble is burst when the angry gremlin walks in.  

He doesn’t say anything, just eyeing you two before he moves past you to get to the coffee machine. He sighs when he sees it’s not ready yet. “What do you even do here?” He shoots you a glare for not having the coffee brewed in time for his morning routine.  

“You can wait 10 minutes.” Sehun defends you. Kyungsoo eyes you both, shifting from one to the other. Until they set on you.  

He leans in closer and lowly whispers in your ear, “Don’t involve yourself with my kitchen staff.” 

You try to bite back a rebuttal when your breath suddenly catches, realizing how close he actually is. This is the closest you’ve ever been. You step back to expand the space between you. You would never even think to date a line cook. As a waitress, you’ve seen that burn way too many times. What you and Sehun had was just harmless flirting.  

You can feel yourself grow hot in anger. Kyungsoo had no business to forbid you from seeing anyone. You hate him so much. And you loathe the way he’s just lingering near you while you eat your burrito.  

The coffee machine is hissing while Kyungsoo waits like he didn’t just whisper the most infuriating threat in your ear. You’re frowning at him, in complete disbelief that he would even say something like that to you. Who did he think he was? The machine calms down, indicating that it was ready. You watch as Kyungsoo pulls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. He reaches for a mug near the machine. His fingers grip the mug and flip it upright with ease. He pours the coffee into his cup, you notice the sharp line on his forearm for the first time, so toned and defined.  

Your breathing is becoming heavier as you observe all his movements. You can feel yourself getting hotter each second passes that he calmly sips on his coffee. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his throat when he swallows. He looks up from his cup and eyes you instead. That one look is enough to have you forgetting how to breathe but most importantly, you’ve forgotten all about the burrito in your hand. 

When Kyungsoo returns to the kitchen, you catch Sehun take a bite of his burrito, unable to suppress the grin forming on his face. He knows. He just watched you thirst all over his boss. Over a cup of coffee. You couldn’t believe it either. 

“What the fuck?” You mouth quietly to him, brows raised, surprised by your own actions. 

"Babe, we’re going to have to cancel the wedding.” 

You throw a piece of tomato at him. 

————

There’s another rush and this time Kyungsoo does not hold back. Unfortunately for you, Sehun took the day off so Kyungsoo was being relentlessly mean to you and only you. Everything you did was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was nitpicking, nagging, all of the above. He took it all out on you. And you just had to take it.  

“Sure, take the whole fucking day to grab your food. All this counter space is all for you, princess.”  

Again, he was being such an asshole.  

“You wanna ease up a bit, huh?” You channel your inner Sehun and get the confidence to talk back to him. His jaw tightens, clearly bothered that you would stand up to him. He doesn’t say anything. You quickly grab the food for your table before he decides to go off on you again. “Ass.” You mutter under your breath, low but loud enough for him to hear. 

To your surprise, he actually does ease up. Well, he doesn’t talk to you at all after that. It’s enough to get you through the day. You haven’t made a single mistake. And you managed to get Kyungsoo to shut up on your own, all without Sehun’s help. You might treat yourself to some ice cream on the way home.  

“Y/N” Kyungsoo’s low voice catches your attention before leaving for the day. He’s standing near the door to the kitchen. His expression is dark and unreadable to you. You swallow nervously. You wave at your coworker who was closing for the day before you walk to meet Kyungsoo in the kitchen. 

You walk inside his workspace and stand in front of him. He’s leaning against a counter, arms crossed. He’s looking at you like he’s trying really hard to form his next thought. You’re holding your breath for what he’s about to say, prepared for whatever he has to throw at you. 

“I’m sorry for my behaviour today. It was unfair to release my frustrations onto you. I have no excuse.”  

He’s apologizing? You stare at him, surprised. You were fully bracing yourself for a screaming match, ready to defend yourself against him.  

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know I’m sorry.” He continues. His eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t look nervous at all. If anything, it looks like he actually means it.  

He gives you a small smile before he pats you on your shoulder and moves to exit the kitchen.  

Your body moves faster than your mind, your hand shooting out to grab Kyungsoo’s forearm. Seeing him smile and pat your shoulder stirs something inside of you. Something that was encouraging you to act irrationally.  

His gaze drops to your fingers wrapped around his arm before lifting back to you. “What are you-” 

Kyungsoo doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before you crash into his lips, kissing him hungrily. You have no idea what’s come over you. But you are so fucking happy when his hand finds its way around your hips while the other naturally finds its place at the back of your head. You thank the heavens that Kyungsoo takes over the kiss, immediately deepening it. 

Before you know it, you were hoisted up onto the counter that he had just cleaned. His hands are gripping your hips firmly, massaging your sides. You can feel yourself getting wetter with his every touch. His lips move against yours with ease and without pause, barely giving you any room to breathe. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding himself back. And maybe you were too. 

Your fingers play with the neckline of his white t-shirt, wanting to take it off him entirely like it’s personally offending you for being in the way of you and his bare chest.  

“Don’t,” His mouth hovers yours, tickling your lips. Your mind goes crazy, anticipating what he’ll say next. “stretch it.” He kisses you again. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he would criticize you even with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Take it off then.” You snake your hands under his shirt, attempting to help him take it off. He shakes his head, grabbing your wrists and pinning them back to your sides.  

“Jongdae’s outside.” He says lowly, peppering your jaw with kisses. You tilt your head, giving him more access of you. 

Like that’s supposed to stop either of you. 

“So?”  

You hear him groan frustratedly in your ear before he grabs your ass and carries you in the direction of the fridge. “Wait.” You say, panicking. You don’t want to freeze your tits off. “It’s cold in there.” 

He grabs the handle with one hand. “You’ll live.” He says before yanking the door open and carrying you inside the cold room. He sets you down on a cold, empty shelf, before he continues to tackle your lips. A soft whimper escapes your lips when you feel the coldness of the metal seep through your jeans. He starts massaging your inner thigh as if to warm you up. 

“These jeans fit you so nicely.” He doesn’t even glance down to look at your jeans, sucking on your neck instead. The realization hits you all at once. He's been checking you out all day. And suddenly his anger and frustration start to make sense. Why he got so mad at you for ‘flirting’ with Sehun, the random ‘pep-talk’ he gave you in this very room the impossible substitution exception he made for you. All these moments begin to merge into one big blob of realization that oh my god Chef Do Kyungsoo has the hots for you. 

Your hunger for him deepens. You don’t even know where to start. Without thinking, you grab his chin and force him to look at you. His eyes are hooded, overtaken by lust and fixated on you like you are the only one he wants.  

“I want you, Kyungsoo.”  

Kyungsoo hears you loud and clearly, moving quickly to slide your jeans off. You gasp when you feel his cold fingers against your bare skin. “It’s so cold.” You whine again. He gets on his knees and looks up at you. “I’ll warm you up in a sec.” 

Your jeans were cast off somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You catch him smiling at the sight of you, legs wide open for him, shivering, waiting for him. His cock twitches just thinking about it.  

He blows a warm breath between your legs, sending shivers down your spine. Then, sliding your underwear to the side, gives you a long lick. You gasp at the sudden heat of his tongue. “You taste so good.” He says before returning to your folds and lapping his tongue up and down the split. You can hear how wet you’ve gotten. Kyungsoo is drinking you in like he’s been thirsty all day and you are the first taste of water. 

Your thighs clamp instinctively when he decides to add his fingers, fucking you as he continues to swirl his tongue around you. He has to use his free hand to move your thighs apart, massaging you instead. Your eyes shut as you feel your climax approaching. Kyungsoo immediately catches on, applying a lot more pressure onto your clit, sucking, licking, doing whatever fucking magic he was doing to get you there. He hooks his fingers so he’s now hitting your sweet spot. You moan his name breathily to let him know. You can feel him smile at the sound of your pretty voice and increases the speed of his fingers.  

“Kyungsooooo fuuuuuuuckkk” You groan, gushing all over his face. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him closer to you as you ride out your climax. He doesn’t stop sucking, wanting to drink all the juices spewing out of you. Your clit throbs, overstimulated, now sensitive to every flick of his tongue.  

Kyungsoo finally pulls back and presses a hungry kiss to your lips. “I’m not done with you yet.” He wipes the small tear from the corner of your eye with a gentle swipe of his thumb 

“I’m not either.” You’re staring up at him with the same amount of desperation. As promised, you reach for his belt buckle and undo it hurriedly. Kyungsoo pets your head, running his fingers through your hair as if to tell you what a good job you’re doing. You bite your lip when you pull down his pants to reveal the tent growing in his boxers. You look up at him before you descend to your knees. Kyungsoo stops you mid-way before grabbing something from the shelves. He drops it to the ground. “Towels?” You tilt your head, unsure what they were for. It can’t be a makeshift bed, you chuckle to yourself. 

“I don’t want you to hurt those pretty knees of yours, princess.” Kyungsoo smiles, flicking your chin ever so slightly. This was the most romantic shit that’s ever happened to you. The usually condescending pet name for you has softened, blossoming into something almost tender. The realization that Kyungsoo was on his knees not too long ago and he didn’t grab those towels for himself is making your heart race. 

You immediately get on your knees and rush to work, eager to return the favour. You feel like it's Christmas morning the way you are unwrapping him like he’s your present. You pull down his boxers to reveal his girthy length. In awe, you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, in disbelief that this belonged to Kyungsoo. He raises an eyebrow at you, amused; you’ve definitely stroked his ego with that reaction.  

You snap yourself out of it and lick the precum off his tip, earning you a sharp hiss from Kyungsoo. His hand grips your hair ever so slightly; you feel yourself grow surprisingly wetter. You drag your tongue across your palm and spit on his dick before wrapping your hand around him, slowly stroking him up and down. You tilt your head sideways and run your tongue along one of his balls.  

“Oh fuck” Kyungsoo swears at the sudden touch.  

You tease him for a bit longer with your tongue before you taking one side in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue while your hand keeps pumping him up and down. You feel his cock twitch in your grasp.  

“You’re driving me crazy, fuck.” You glance up at him. Kyungsoo is looking down at you with pure adoration. You smile with your eyes as you continue to slobber over his ballsack, switching from one to the other. Saliva spewls out of your mouth as you take your time with him.  

“Fuck, slow down, princess.” 

You don’t slow down. 

Kyungsoo desperately needs you to suck his cock now. You were only at his balls and he already feels close to losing it. He grips your hair and forcefully removes you. You meet his gaze, out of breath, yet still smiling up at him like a brat.  

“You don’t listen.” He tsks, wiping the drool from your chin. He leans down to kiss you gently, his apology for yanking your hair. You didn’t mind it. It turns you on a lot more than you expected.  

“Now suck me off.” He murmurs lowly against your lips before straightening again and guiding your head back to him. Your eyes don’t leave his as you open wide and slide his length into your mouth slowly. Kyungsoo groans the moment you take all inches of him.  

“You’re so good to me. My princess.” His hand begins to move again, stroking your hair in slow, approving strokes. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft, stroking him slightly as you bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue and sucking him in unison. The hum of the fridge fills the room, mixing with Kyungsoo’s moans and your slurping sounds. You were seriously hoping this fridge was as soundproof as Kyungsoo made it seem. You pick up your pace to Kyungsoo’s content. He’s close, his cock is twitching in your mouth. You’re a slobbering mess, drool spilling out of your mouth and leaking from your hand.  

Kyungsoo’s a moaning mess. “Fuck, princess. I’m so close.” You take your other hand and massage his balls. He groans, pushing your head closer to him as he empties himself in your mouth. You swallow every single drop. He releases his grip around your hair. Immediately, you show off your tongue to him, letting him know that you didn’t spill a single drop of him.  

“Ugh, you’re perfect, princess.” Both his hands fly to the sides of your face as he crashes his lips onto yours. He brings you back up to your feet and turns you around. He presses onto your back, lowering you so that you’re now bending over for him on the not-so-cold-anymore shelf. You look back at him, finding him stroke himself hard again as he stares at the view of your ass. 

“I can’t believe I get to fuck this pretty little pussy of yours.” He mutters, catching your gaze. He swipes his cock against your folds. “Shit, you’re still so wet.” You stare as he shows you wet you’ve become. You bite your lip when he shoves his fingers into his mouth to taste you. 

Without warning, he thrusts into you. You gasp at the sudden fullness, bending over so you were no longer facing him. 

His size was so thick. This was the first time you’ve felt like you were actually being stretched out. “You’re doing such a good job, taking me.” Kyungsoo praises you, hands massaging your ass and moving your hips back and forth as he fucks you. “Why can't you ever do a good job like this at work? Hm?” 

“Tell me you’ll do a good job next time.” Kyungsoo thrusts harder into you. You whimper, clenching around him out of surprise. “Answer me.” 

“I’ll do a good job next time.” You repeat after him. He pushes into you again, this time deeper. He halts, pressing his lips gently onto your shoulder.  

“Good girl.” He starts pounding into you desperately, recklessly. You squeal at the pure ecstasy. Kyungsoo has to wrap his hands around your mouth to shut you up. Maybe it wasn’t so soundproof.  

Kyungsoo is snapping his hips so quickly. Your eyes begin to well up in tears from how good he feels inside of you. He reaches down to your clit and applies pressure, rubbing you in circles in the same rhythm as he’s fucking you.  

You’re clenching around him, unable to take the overstimulation. “Cum for me, princess.” He practically growls in your ear, encouraging you to reach your end. You come undone to the sound of his voice like it was the password to your climax, walls clenching around him.  

“Kyungsoo” You moan, tiredly but Kyungsoo doesn’t stop fucking you. He continues, chasing his own. Not too long after, you feel him pull out of you and spill all over your ass. “Fuck.” He takes your chin in his grasp and kisses you so tenderly and so deeply. You forget where you are. You stay like that for a minute. 

“Is anybody still here?” Jongdae shouts out to no one in particular. “I’m closing the front!” 

“Yeah! In the fridge.” Kyungsoo shouts back. “I’ll take care of the back.” 

Using up what’s left of your energy, you turn back to look at him, surprised at how clear his voice was because you don’t think you can even croak out a sound. He laughs at you, kissing you sweetly on the lips. 

“Okay! Have a good rest of the day Chef!” Jongdae says his goodbye, interrupting the moment 

“You too!” Kyungsoo responds as he peppers kisses onto your back. 

“Fuck. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” He pulls you up and helps you put your jeans back on. Your body was now sweaty, and it was a lot harder to put it on than to take it off. 

“Let me guess. Since the day you started here.” You scoff at him, having pieced together everything minutes ago. 

“Yes, fuck. And it didn’t help that you kept fucking up.” He presses his lips onto you again, never wanting to let a minute pass that he wasn’t kissing you. 

“Does this mean you’ll go easy on me now?” You ask sweetly, batting your lashes, hopeful. 

“Why?” He smirks, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. “You don’t like it when I make you cry?” 

“Oh, I love when you make me cry.” You say. “Just not when we’re working.”  

Kyungsoo chuckles. 

“Suck me off like that again and we’ll see.”  

You started by looking at him from across the bar, making eye contact for just a little longer than what could be considered not flirting, batting your eyelashes. You gave him a little smile, which he returned. 

Soon enough he'd taken the empty seat next to you, introducing himself. 

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, and you shook your head, still smiling back at his gorgeous face. “My name is Baekhyun, by the way.” 

“I’m Alice.” You lied. 

“Alice, I like it, it's cute, it suits you.” 

You'd usually have to fake your interest by now but this guy was so cute you really were becoming a bit bashful, blushing and mumbling a ‘thank you’. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Hell yes. Only a little while longer now… 

“I'll have a martini.” 

The more you talked, the more he (unfortunately) seemed like a great guy. At some points you nearly caught yourself feeling guilty about what you planned to do, and even doubted whether to go through with it at all. But men often put up a front, and you didn't truly know him. Even if he appeared kind and honest, you knew better than to trust a stranger, and your mission for the night was clear.

Halfway through the martini you put one hand on his thigh, leaning into him, and you could tell he was loving it. You hung onto his every word, looking at him with your best, most innocent doe eyes. 

After over an hour of genuinely nice conversation, you decided it was best to just get on with it, before you had the chance to change your mind. You checked your phone, and feigned disappointment. “It's getting late, I should really get going.” 

He, too, seemed saddened by your announcement, and to your delight, he offered to walk you out. 

This is it. 

As he stood up from the bar and you watched him head towards the door, you smiled at the outline of his wallet, perfectly hugging the curve of his cute butt from its position in his back pocket. 

Once outside, you pull him off to the side of the building for some more privacy. 

“I'm really glad I got to meet you here tonight.” You told him, one hand running over his shoulder, and then down his chest. You let one hand rest on the swell of his chest, as you looked back up into his eyes, and then down at his lips. He had such kind looking eyes, it was a shame, truly.  

“I'm really glad I met you, too.” He said back softly, his hands slowly moving to rest on your hips. The restraint was clear in the gentle way he touched you, not wanting to cross a line, but too close, too tempted not to at least get his hands on you in some way. 

Your eyes went back to his, and the hand not on his chest slowly moved to his waist, before moving down further. 

He stared back at you, pink lips slightly parted, waiting for you to lean in, to let your eyes drift shut, any sign that he could finally kiss you.  

You stayed looking back at him, hardly moving closer, the hand now slipping behind him, working its way into the back pocket of his pants. 

Your lip twitched, barely showing a smile, and then you had it. You slipped the smooth leather out of the pocket, and before he could even realize what had just happened, you were running, sprinting, as fast as you could away from him, giggling to yourself. 

Baekhyun stood there for a second, stunned, before he had the bright idea to run after you. He was a strong runner, but so were you, and you got a pretty good head start. However he was determined, and he realized as he kept running that he actually knew where you were headed. 

Not far from the well lit main roads were darker, quieter suburbs where you could easily go unseen and find a hiding place. Unfortunately for you, Baekhyun lived in that exact area, and he knew all the shortcuts. 

You were still barely within his line of sight when you took a sharp turn, and he knew he'd won. Cutting through a narrow alley between the houses, he was able to cut you off and when you'd just thought you'd lost him and slowed down to a walk, he turned and ran at you, tackling you.

You, in shock, screamed and acted more or less on impulse now that Baekhyun had you pinned to the pavement. You kicked him in the groin as hard as you could. 

Pretty much instantaneously, he let go of you, rolling over in pain. But as soon as you tried to get up and start running again, stars clouded your vision and you could do little more than stumble a few steps before his hand was able to catch your wrist. 

“What the hell is your problem woman?!” He more or less yelled at you, still slightly hunched over in pain. 

“YOU tackled ME!” 

“Because you stole my wallet??” 

You were still trying to pull your arm away from him, but now that he had you he wasn't going to let you get away again so easily. 

“Look, just give me my wallet back and I won't call the cops, okay?” 

You glared, considering your options, but it was clear that you should just listen to him. He was larger than you, clearly pissed off, and if he really did call the police he would have no problem keeping you there till they arrived. It sucked, but it beat getting arrested, so you handed it over with a scowl. 

Expecting him to let go of you once you gave it back you started to turn away but he didn't, his grip only tightened. 

“What the hell? Let me go.” 

“Why did you try to steal from me?” 

“Oh my god can you just let me go already I gave you the fucking wallet didn't I?” 

It wasn't that you were trying to be a bitch, but your head hurt, you were dirty from the fall, and all you wanted was to get away from him and find help. 

“I could still call the cops, you know.” Baekhyun himself wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to keep you there, something just made him feel like he had more to talk to you about. 

This asshole. You thought to yourself. “Why do you care why I do what I do?” 

He just shrugged, and you grew more and more irritated with him. 

“I need money. Not that that's any of your business.”

“It kind of did become my business when you tried to rob me.” 

“I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” 

“I do appreciate that, yes.” 

Still, he wasn't letting go of you, even as you looked at him with pleading eyes. The frown he wore was almost a little pathetic, he just looked so.. disappointed. 

“So you only flirted with me cause you wanted my money, huh?” 

“I said I was sorry.” 

With one hand on the back of his neck, he paced back and forth, as if trying to reason with himself. “I have to admit I'm a little hurt, we really seemed to be hitting it off.” 

It seemed like a joke at first but after a few seconds of staring at him in disbelief he still just looked a bit sad. 

“You're serious?” 

All of the sudden his expression shifted completely to one of what looked like horror and worry, and the hand on your arm finally let go, moving to your forehead. He took a step closer, holding your head in his hands. “You're bleeding.” 

“Yeah well you fucking tackled me.” You mumbled. You hadn't noticed anything more than a dull throbbing in your head after realizing he'd caught up to you and you were on the ground.  

“Shit, you're really bleeding. Bad. Come with me.” 

He started pulling you along with him, and when you touched your own forehead you felt the warm blood running down from somewhere on your scalp. Still, you tried to get away from him. “Where are you going?” 

“We're going to my house. I live nearby.” 

“No fucking way I'm going anywhere with you.” 

He stopped, looking at you, the blood now running freely down the side of your face. 

“I'm a doctor.” He said matter of factly, pulling his wallet back out and opening it to show you his hospital ID card. “I can help you, or I can get you to a hospital.” 

Going to the hospital wasn't much of an option without insurance or any money to pay the bill afterwards, but you still didn't feel completely safe going with him either. 

“How do I know you aren't gonna hurt me? You have every reason to be pissed at me.” 

It was the first time since you'd run off that he heard a change in your tone, the prior callousness morphing into something softer. Fear. 

“I got my wallet back, didn't I? It's my fault you're hurt and I know how to help.” 

The overall softness of his face, and the gentle downturn of his eyes, made it hard to imagine any malicious intent behind them. It would've taken a fantastic actor to fake looking as worried as he did, and he didn't seem like the type to put on a show. 

Begrudgingly, you followed him. 

He did in fact live just down the street, in a quite nice looking modern house. You followed him in silently, and he sat you down on the living room couch, running up some stairs to get what he needed to fix you up. 

You looked around and the house was just as handsome and polished as he was. Leather couches, granite coffee table, and interesting decor here and there. Despite the fact that he clearly liked things to be tidy, it still looked homely and lived in. 

By the time he was able to start wiping the blood off your face you looked like something out of a horror movie. The dress you were wearing was covered in blood stains too. 

Now with better lighting his face still showed all of his worry and guilt as he got a good look at your injury. 

“Fuck I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bust your head open, I just wanted my wallet back. I guess I went a little crazy with the adrenaline and everything, I wasn't thinking, I don't know why the hell I thought tackling you was a good move.” 

“Well I hope it was worth it.” You mumbled.

“Alice isn't your real name, is it?” 

You hesitated, wanting to make some kind of bitchy remark again, but now that you were on his couch with him carefully tending to your head wound, looking adorably apologetic, you finally decided to give up the attitude and just be glad he was helping you. 

You sighed. “No. It's not.” 

“So what is it then? If you don't mind me asking.” 

You flinched when the antiseptic made contact with the gash on your scalp, the burning sensation making you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I'm sorry I know that stuff burns like hell but it's better than getting an infection.” You opened your eyes again and nodded. “I really would like to know your name.” 

“Are you gonna report me if I do tell you?” 

Baekhyun chuckled and shook his head. “I feel bad enough that you cracked your head open on the pavement because of me. If I sent you to jail too I'd be the asshole of the century.” 

“Y/n.”

He took his eyes off of your wound for a second to meet yours, and smiled. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.” 

You half scoffed, half laughed, “Yeah right, first I try to rob you, then I kick you in the balls, and now you're having to patch up my busted up head.” 

He just kept smiling. “That really did hurt by the way, I thought I was gonna throw up for a second. But I guess that's what I get for tackling you. Probably not the best idea either, in hindsight.” 

“How bad is it?” 

“The cut on your head? Or getting kicked in the nuts?” 

“My head.” You laughed. 

“It'll be fine, but you need a few stitches and should try to lay down for the next few days since you're probably mildly concussed.” 

“Shit.” 

“I know. I'm really sorry, again. Gonna try my best to keep from tackling people from now on.” 

As he put numbing cream on your scalp and started to stitch it up, you began to realize how close he was to you. The lower part of his face was right at eye level, and it hit you again just how breathtaking he was. The clear bright lighting in his living room gave you a far better view of him than the dimly lit bar or darkened streets, and it almost felt silly to you that he was a doctor of all things. His skin was too perfect, his lips too pink, his eyes too easy to get lost in. He could've easily been a model, you thought.  

It was getting embarrassing, seeing him so close as he tended to the gash on your head. That would be plenty uncomfortable in a regular setting with a different doctor, but you were in his house on his couch after trying to rob him. And even worse, you still thought he was incredibly cute. 

It was impossible not to cringe at your own ridiculous misfortune. 

You endured a few more seconds of burning from the antiseptic, and soon Baekhyun was done. As he leaned back, you let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing that you'd been holding your breath. 

“Be careful around the cut, try not to get it wet for a few days, and again, get lots of rest.” 

You nodded, but knew that you probably wouldn't be able to do that. “I don't know how I didn't feel it at first, my head just kinda hurt.” 

“Does it still hurt pretty bad?” 

You shook your head no. It was getting late however, and you were starting to get tired, turning away from him as you let out a yawn. “I should get going, thank you for helping me,” you pointed at your head, “and not calling the cops. And I'm sorry again that I tried to rob you.” 

Baekhyun laughed, “No worries. I'm sorry I tackled you so I guess we're even. Do you need a ride home?” 

You shook your head. You figured you'd just make the short walk to your car and sleep there. It had started to rain and you knew it was going to be a long night, but you were just going to have to deal with it. At least it wasn't too cold.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah I'll be fine. I don't have anywhere for you to take me anyways.” 

“What?” 

“Don't worry about it.” You started to get up off the couch, but right away got pretty dizzy, bracing yourself against the armrest to keep from falling. “Shit.” 

Taking your hand he sat you back down. “What do you mean you don’t have anywhere for me to take you?” 

You groaned, the last thing you wanted was to explain to this guy that you were technically homeless at the moment. 

All you did was shake your head. “You really don’t need to worry about me. I have a plan.” 

Again you stood up, getting even dizzier this time but you just powered through it, nearly falling as you made your way towards the door. 

“What, you're just gonna stumble around in the rain all night?” 

“I have a plan.” You repeated as you braced yourself against a wall for a second. 

Annoyed but more so worried, Baekhyun got up off the couch and stood himself between you and the door. “You definitely have a concussion. If there isn’t anywhere else for you to stay tonight, you can stay here.” 

You whined and tried to get past him but it wasn’t gonna happen. “Baekhyun, really, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Yeah, I do. If you don’t get a good night’s sleep you’ll feel much worse in the morning. You need to rest, trust me. You can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. In the morning I'll take you somewhere to get help.” 

The way he looked at you made a lump form in your throat. He’d just met you that night and definitely didn’t owe you anything after you tried to steal from him, yet he was offering you a warm bed. His pretty features were painted with a look of genuine worry, and all at once, it became too much, and you felt your eyes start to water. 

It was also just embarrassing. Baekhyun seemed so put together, and he was being so kind to you, while you were clearly a huge mess. 

Baekhyun could see it in your eyes. He watched as they glazed over, and just before the first tear was able to fall, he pulled you in.

Your hold on the bottom of his t-shirt was strong, twisting the fabric in your fist, keeping him close. The gentle motion of his hand running up and down your back was surprisingly comforting, along with the gentle reassurances being whispered in your ear. It was okay, you were going to be okay. 

Once the tears had come to a halt, he led you back to the couch, sitting you down before getting you a glass of water. You took it from him gratefully as he sat down with you. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked, painfully aware of the quiver in your voice and your red, puffy, eyes and cheeks. 

Baekhyun shrugged, “I like to see the best in people, I guess. And I like to be helpful, I did dedicate my whole career to that after all.” And I still hope that maybe some of the flirting from the bar wasn’t completely fake cause I was really starting to like you. He thought to himself, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

“I promise I’m not a terrible person, things are just really hard right now and it's the only way to get a roof over my head at night. I wouldn’t steal if I didn’t have to, and I hope that I can get back on my feet soon and be done with it.” 

“I assumed as much, I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear this from, but I'm sorry you're going through that.” 

Finally, you managed a smile. “Thank you.” 

You finished your glass of water and Baekhyun got up, putting it away before returning to the living room. “I can help you up the stairs, and give you some clean clothes. You’re probably tired.” 

“I can sleep on the couch, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed, the fact that you’re letting me stay at your house at all is more than I deserve.” 

“For your concussion to get better you need to lay down, like flat on your back, ideally. So you’re gonna take the bed. I’ll be fine. I assume you still want some clothes without blood on them, right?” 

You nodded and started to get up, and he ran to your side to let you hold onto him in case you got dizzy again. Your hand was on his bicep, and it felt nice, strong and firm. The broadness of his shoulders made your skin heat up as he walked you up the stairs to his bedroom, and sat you onto the edge of his king sized bed.

“I won't have anything that'll fit you very well, but it's still better than a dress with blood on it.” He started rummaging through a drawer until he handed you a tshirt and some sweats to change into, before turning to leave. 

“Wait-” 

Baekhyun froze, throwing you a confused look. “Don’t you wanna change in peace?” 

“No- well, yes, but I was gonna say, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. I mean, there’s room for us both.” You said, scooting to one end of the large mattress. 

Maybe a part of you liked the idea of having someone to sleep next to, especially him, but you also just felt bad about him otherwise sleeping on the couch in his own home because of you.

He looked surprised, “Are you sure? The couch isn’t that bad and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You won’t, I promise.” 

“If you say so, I'm gonna go get more water and let you change.”

His clothes were big on you, but they were cozy. Soft and warm and smelled like fancy laundry detergent. You settled into the plush sheets, feeling much more comfortable than you had in a while. His bed easily beat your friends' couches and the cheap hotels you stayed at on the nights you had the money to. 

Eventually he also changed and joined you, making himself comfortable on the other side. You turned to face him, and he did the same. 

“Thank you again for letting me stay here. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this.” 

“Don't mention it, it's actually nice to have some company.” 

You looked into his pretty brown eyes as he said it, his pretty eyes and pretty face and pretty words making you blush.

He scooted a bit closer, still looking at you, testing the water. For a second you swore he looked down at your lips. 

Your heart was already racing and you worried it would give out if you kept going, so, you turned to look at the ceiling, instead of at him. 

“You're blushing.” 

As you gave him your best side eye, you saw the shit-eating grin on his face. 

“It really did hurt a little.” He said. 

“Huh?” 

“I know this is gonna sound really dumb, but I was honestly more upset about you faking being into me than the attempted robbery, for some reason. I guess I can understand why someone might steal but faking interest just really… I don't know.. hurt my feelings?” 

You raised your eyebrows, and turned back onto your side to look at him, not expecting that at all. 

Something in his expression shifted, “I'm sorry, you can tell me to shut up if I'm making you uncomfortable, or send me downstairs to the couch.”

“Who says I was faking? I just acted like I would've anyway.”  

You watched as a smile crept its way onto his face. “Yeah?” 

You just gave a small nod and a shrug, and this time, you were sure he'd had his eyes on your lips. 

Baekhyun made it clear that he was interested, even after everything, and you were surprised, to say the least. You knew you could turn him down at any point and he'd respect it, but you didn't want to. Not only was he gorgeous, he'd shown you more genuine kindness than anyone had in a while, when he had absolutely no obligation to. You just liked him. 

You seemed to gravitate toward him. He looked so inviting, so you moved in even closer, expecting him to finally kiss you, but he didn't. 

That was when you realized that he wasn't going to kiss you, you were going to have to kiss him. You were in his house, in his bed, already feeling indebted to him and he didn't want you to feel like you had to do anything for him in return. If something was going to happen between you and him, you would have to initiate it. 

And so, you did. You let your eyes flutter shut and closed the gap, kissing him. Immediately he responded, kissing you back, taking one hand to your jaw. 

His lips were soft and sweet and you easily melted into him, feeling your heart flutter at the way he smiled into the kiss. 

Gently, his other hand came to rest on the curve of your waist, though he didn’t move any further. The kisses, too, were still delicate, even as the minutes passed. Baekhyun was simply enjoying the softness of your skin and your lips, without wanting you to feel any pressure to do more. 

As nice as it was, you quickly wanted more than just to kiss him. It had been a long time since you’d been in bed with a man at all, let alone one as enticing as him, and it was definitely affecting you. When you moved closer, pressing your chest to his, he welcomed it. 

His touches remained tender as he shifted, allowing you to lay on your back, though you were disappointed that he still remained next to you, for the most part. You wanted to feel the weight of him, to wrap your legs around his waist and draw him in even closer. 

When he pulled away, your brows furrowed and you pouted up at him. 

“What?” He asked, his thumb softly running across your cheekbone. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

The way he smiled melted your heart even further, so soft and sincere. “You need to rest.” 

You pouted even harder, whining, “I don’t want to, though.” 

Baekhyun knew that you really, really did need to rest, but when you looked at him like that, he couldn’t just deny you, either. 

You sighed with relief when his lips made contact with your neck, though he aired on the side of caution, still. Every kiss brought you further from your sanity, wanting more with every passing second. When the opportunity presented itself, you untangled your legs from his and wrapped them around his waist, finally getting the pressure you needed. However, he once again pulled away. 

“Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t think we should be doing this.” 

This time, you weren’t just pouting, you looked genuinely hurt, and it made him frown. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You just shook your head, detaching yourself and turning your back to him.

“Whoa, hey, what is it?” His hand on your shoulder turned you back to look at him, and he once again looked worried. 

You shut your eyes, gathering your thoughts for a second, “You're right, I’m just... embarrassed. I shouldn't even be here.” 

His brows furrowed, “That's not what I mean, I’m just worried about your head, I don't want to keep you up, or accidentally do something that could make it worse.” 

You sighed, “You don't have to make excuses.” 

His eyes met yours and held them, refusing to look away. “You really think I don't want to fuck you right now?” 

He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, and he chuckled. 

“Sorry if that was a little forward but it's true. I just don't want to hurt you more than I already have. If I got carried away and your head bumped into the wall or something I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. And you really need to get a solid night's sleep, too.” 

His fingers ghosted over the skin just below the cut on your head, at the left side of your hairline. It was so tender, the way he ghosted across the surface of your skin, just barely touching. His hands were steady, careful, making you feel like something precious. 

“You really are so, so beautiful.” 

You just rolled your eyes and refused to meet his again. 

“I'm serious. I mean, you definitely tried to rob me and I think I'm a pretty reasonable guy most of the time but I for sure still want you. You make me throw all rationality to the wind. It's remarkable.” 

“There's plenty of pretty girls out there.” 

“Sure. But there's more to making a connection with someone than just physical attraction.” 

“You think we have a connection?” 

“Sure. I had a great time at the bar with you. Hell, with another hour or two I probably would've invited you over anyway.”

You let out a half laugh, half scoff. It had occurred to you too of course, to try and sleep with him and get a roof over your head that way. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to steal from him after spending a whole night with him, you’d already liked him too much. If you hadn't needed money so badly you probably would've ended up in his bed anyway. 

“You really mean that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re gorgeous, and we have chemistry. I know you feel it too.” 

The way your cheeks burned surprised you, it felt unfair, how easily he could affect you. 

“You are pretty cute.” You finally admitted, “And charming, and kind, and I still can’t believe you want anything at all to do with me.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You frowned a little, and so did he, seeing the way your face fell. “With how much of a mess my life is right now it's hard not to be.” 

“You obviously don't have to divulge any personal details you aren't comfortable sharing, but if you want to talk to me, I'll listen. It's hard for me to imagine how you might've ended up in such a bad situation.”  

A long sigh left your lips. It wasn't something you enjoyed talking about, but you felt that context might help him forgive you for your previous actions. 

“I was sharing an apartment with my ex, and when I found out he was cheating he just disappeared. We were both on the lease even though he paid the majority of it since I was in school. I tried to find a different place I could afford but I couldn't get out of the lease and couldn't pay it myself so I got evicted and now nowhere will accept me as a tenant. I had to quit school and have been trying to find work but it hasn't been easy without a real address.” 

Baekhyun didn't say anything, he just pulled you in closer, letting you wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his chest. 

“I just feel like such a failure.” 

“Why? You got screwed over. None of that sounds like it was your fault.” 

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes and the look on his face made something twist up in your gut. He just looked so… indignant. He hated what had happened to you, clearly. He hated the unfairness of it all. 

With one hand on your chin he brought you in for a kiss, this time soft, almost like an apology. 

“You deserve so much more.” He whispered, playing with your hair when you again made yourself comfortable in his embrace, using his chest as your pillow. 

He began to hum something vaguely familiar, and in no time at all, you were fast asleep. Baekhyun slowly and carefully detached himself from you, laying you on your back, and resting your head gently on the pillow next to his own.

For longer than he might like to admit, he just enjoyed the sight of your sleeping face. You looked so much more peaceful this way, he thought. He wished you could feel that kind of peace more often when you were awake. He could easily make out the hollowness, the evidence of all you’d been through, on your face. You were still beautiful to him, without a doubt, but there was something there, serving as a permanent reminder of how unfairly life had treated you. More than anything, Baekhyun wished he could somehow be the one to make it go away, to restore you to the woman he imagined you could be. 

~

You awoke to find the bed vacant aside from yourself, and as the minutes passed, there wasn’t a peep from anywhere else in the house either. Slowly, you got yourself out of bed, and wandered downstairs to find that Baekhyun had, in fact, left you alone in his house. 

Not sure what else to do with yourself, you got a glass of water and went back upstairs. He couldn’t be working, right? It didn’t make any sense, for him to just leave you alone. Did he want you to leave? That didn’t make sense either, after he said he’d get you help in the morning. More than anything, you were shocked that he trusted you alone in his house full of expensive (and easily stolen) possessions. 

Before you could dwell on it any longer the front door opened, and you heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. You made your way back downstairs, and he lit up as soon as he saw you, his smile wide and dazzling. 

“Good morning.” He said, his good mood easily rubbing off on you. “I got us breakfast. Did you sleep okay? How does your head feel?” 

“I did, and fine, actually. Now that you mention it the cut is still a little tender but I don’t even have a headache or anything. And thank you.” 

He started taking various baked goods out of a large paper bag, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a bunch of different stuff.” 

It all looked amazing. You’d missed being able to stop by a bakery to get yourself a little treat. You just couldn't afford that kind of thing anymore. 

“Baekhyun…” The words trailed off as he just kept smiling back at you, now holding a large plate piled high with all sorts of pastries. “You didn’t have to do all this.” 

He just shrugged. “I probably would’ve gotten breakfast there today anyway. Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad your concussion isn’t too bad, a good night's sleep does wonders ” 

You shuddered at the thought of how your night could've gone, had you slept alone in your car.

He pulled out a chair and you and him both made yourselves comfortable at his kitchen counter. 

“I was really surprised that you were gone when I woke up, I mean, leaving me alone in your house is kind of a bad idea is it not?” 

“Why?” He asked simply, looking genuinely confused. 

“I don't take any joy in reminding you, but I did try to steal from you like, twelve hours ago.”

“So? You're here now. It's not like you woke up, grabbed my jewels and ran for it.” He said, smiling, putting extra emphasis on jewels and wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Here, try this.”

He held a chocolate croissant up to your face, beckoning you to take a bite. 

“Baekhyun, you really didn't need to get me anything I'm okay-” 

“Just try it. I know the guy who makes these, they're fucking incredible. Think of it like you're doing a favor for my baker friend.” 

He just looked so sweet and excited for you to participate in something he liked so much, it was hard not to give in, especially when the scent of butter and chocolate was making its way into your sinuses. You leaned forward, taking a bite. 

The delicate crispy exterior shattered as it touched your lips, and your mouth filled with the soft buttery pastry and creamy chocolate. You nearly moaned. You couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten the opportunity to enjoy a food so perfect.

Your hums of approval made him smile even wider, and he just watched in complete contentment as you enjoyed the croissant. 

“Your friend is a fucking wizard.” You finally said once you'd devoured the thing, already a bit sad at how quickly it was gone. 

When you finally met Baekhyun's eyes again, he wore a gentle, dreamy smile, and you could easily tell how his gaze ran all across your face, as if trying to memorize every feature individually. He didn't say anything as he leaned closer, until his thumb touched the corner of your lip. 

He wiped away a bit of chocolate that had lingered, bringing it to his own lips, all the while keeping his eyes fixated on you. 

The way you'd hummed blissfully at the taste of the pastry had been enough to send his mind spiraling into less innocent thoughts, now fixated on the view of your soft, pastry scented lips. When you ran your tongue across them, checking for any more crumbs, or leftover chocolate, he couldn't help himself. 

He was on you, one hand gently cradling the back of your head and neck as his lips met yours with a surprising tenderness. After a short second of stunned surprise you kissed him back eagerly, growing breathless as his hands wandered down your body, gripping first your waist, then thighs, until he pulled away, panting with need. You were no better off, the kiss leaving your lips pink, swollen, and needing more of him. 

“Sorry…” He mumbled. “It isn't exactly easy for me to keep my hands to myself around you.” 

Without breaking eye contact you stood up, taking hold of his hand. “So don't.” 

He let out an exhale of a laugh and shook his head before looking back up at you. A gentle tug on your hand brought you in closer. “I can't- I don't want to hurt you, you still need to re-” 

“Baekhyun, please?” 

You stood yourself between his spread legs, giving him your most innocent doe eyes, pressing your body against him, feeling the way his breath shook in response to the closeness. He looked wrecked. When your lips met his neck the tension in his body seemed to melt away in an instant, his hands again holding onto your waist as he brought his lips back to your own. Even in the lustful haze of it all, he still knew exactly what he was doing, pulling on your bottom lip, smirking at the knowledge that you were just as down bad as he was. 

It wasn’t long until he stood, hoisting you up with him, walking up the stairs towards his bedroom with you clinging to him. 

This time when he laid you down, he didn't waste even a second before parting your thighs and letting you wrap yourself around him. He knew he still needed to be careful with you, but you'd gotten plenty of sleep, and he'd never been so sure of his body and heart's desires as he was in that moment. 

His hands were everywhere, hastily yanking up his own too-big clothes in a desperate search for more skin. The way he kissed you grew equally as needy, barely even stopping for air. As much as he wanted to play coy, to tease you, to leave you wanting and yearning for more, he was too far gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd felt this dizzy and crazed. 

For you, the weight of him between your thighs was enough to make your stomach twist with a kind of need you weren't used to at all. You’d found yourself in similar positions before, but none of those men came anywhere close to this. Baekhyun fit into the space between your legs so perfectly, you were both convinced he’d been made to exist just there. 

As the kisses and touches grew heavier, your clothes became less and less. When both your tops were finally discarded, the feel of his hot skin pressed to yours was electric. 

His hand reached for the waistband of the sweats he’d leant you, but before moving further, he paused. 

“Y/n? Baby?” His lips left a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling back to meet your gaze. 

“Mmhmm?” 

“You’re sure you want this?”

You nod, smiling, taking his face in your hands to bring him in for another kiss, this one sweeter than the many that came before it. You hoped it conveyed just how much you wanted him, not only now, but hopefully for a long time in the future, too, even if that seemed like a silly fantasy. 

His lips made their way to your neck, kissing and biting in all the right places to make you gasp and moan for him. Soon he moved down your body, taking his time to worship the soft skin of your bare chest before eventually going further. As he took off your last remaining clothing, his lips barely lost contact with your skin, as if he needed your touch to breathe. 

The second he finished undressing you, he sat back, staring, just taking in the sight before him. You looked so soft, every curve tempting him to grab and squeeze and bite and mark you as his own. He had no idea why he suddenly became so possessive, but he didn't fight it. 

He made himself comfortable between your thighs, lips pulling into a smirk at the sight of your pussy, already slick and wet for him. As much as he wanted to dive in, he first wanted to appreciate you in earnest. 

He loved how plush your thighs felt beneath his palms as he spread you further apart, lips latching onto the soft skin mere inches from where you needed him most. 

“Please.” You whimpered, impatient, desperate, but Baekhyun just smiled and continued to leave marks on your inner thighs, sucking, biting, only encouraged by your begging for more. 

At last he pulled away, looking back up at you with a smug grin before finally giving you what you wanted. 

The first touch of his tongue to your clit was barely there, barely dipping between your folds to get a taste. He pressed a soft kiss, still teasing, relishing the way your hands ran through his hair, grabbing onto the strands in a feeble attempt at more contact. He gave you a little more, running his tongue up and down your clit, flicking, before sealing his mouth over your heat and diving in completely. 

 You were gasping, letting out whines and moans at the way he made out with your pussy. He seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, groaning in delight at the way you flooded his tongue, so wet and needy for him. 

When he flattened his tongue against your clit, licking and sucking incessantly as two fingers pushed inside you, you were done for. It only took a few pumps for you to shatter apart, gushing on his fingers, squeezing them, crying out his name as your hands wound themselves even tighter into his silky hair. 

The way your pussy clenched around him, tight and wet and just begging for his cock, made his eyes roll back as he lapped up the last of the wetness spilling out of you. 

When he finally detached himself, wiping your juices off his chin with the back of his hand, he melted. 

You looked divine. Your chest, damp with sweat and flushed deep red as your deep, heavy breaths moved it up and down. Your thighs, still spread wide, wet with your release and covered in purple marks. Your lips, swollen from biting them as you unsuccessfully held back the sounds of your pleasure. And your eyes, blown wide and glassy as you looked back up at him, silently begging for more. Everything about you was somehow beyond perfect, he felt his heart twist and clench and he knew that he wanted you, that he needed you, all of you, in every possible way. 

You felt it too. It was more than just regular attraction or pleasure. This was completely unlike any sexual experience you'd ever had, and he wasn't even inside you yet. He just understood you, without even needing to ask. He knew your body like it was an extension of his own, taking you apart and putting you back together effortlessly. 

When he leaned in, taking your face in his hand, your eyes locked. He was asking, making sure you still wanted more, even though that seemed silly in your desperate state. His thumb ran gently over your bottom lip, and you took the opportunity to suck it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip of his finger in a way that made him shudder. 

You nodded up at him, and that was all he needed. You let out a sharp gasp, grabbing onto his shoulder with all your strength at the first nudge of his tip between your folds. You moaned around his finger, eyes still on his, lashes fluttering, tears almost spilling over when he finally pushed inside. 

He started out slow, filling you completely with every push, getting so deep and stretching you so perfectly you saw stars. When your eyes squeezed shut he took your face in his hand, pressing a kiss to your lips before demanding, “Eyes on me, angel.” 

You did as he said, looking back up at him as he rolled his hips just right, every ridge and vein hitting the most sensitive spot perfectly. His thumb stayed between your lips, moaning around it helplessly as he began to pick up the pace. 

The way he looked down at you, eyes so full of admiration and lust and need brought you even closer to the edge. You both knew in that moment, that there was no way this could just be a fleeting, one time thing, you needed more of each other, the connection, the electricity, that spark was too intense. 

“You're taking me so well baby, so fucking perfect.” 

“And all yours.” You mumbled, without a second thought. 

You watched Baekhyun's eyes roll back, shoulders tensing, leaning back to fuck you at a slightly different angle that had you screaming his name. 

He threw your legs over his shoulders, fully sitting up and fucking you hard into the mattress. Every time he bottomed out he felt the way your whole body shook, and he knew it wouldn't be long until you reached your peak. His eyes traveled down your body, from your tits that bounced in time with his punishing thrusts down to your swollen pussy as it swallowed his length greedily, leaving his cock wet with your arousal. He saw the slight bulge in your belly when he was sheathed fully inside you, and something in him snapped, the last of his self control being thrown to the wind. 

He pressed a hand to your lower belly, fucking you deeper, harder, and all at once, you came apart, mind splintering, gasping his name as you came on his length. He kept fucking you through it, groaning at the way your cunt fluttered and squeezed and somehow got even wetter, even more perfect. 

He slowed down when he saw the tears spill over, not wanting to overwhelm you. He was kissing you, whispering praises into your skin as he kept rolling his hips, slow but deep. 

“Your pussy feels like fucking paradise.” 

“Such a good girl, cumming on my cock, so fucking tight and wet and perfect.” 

“Baekhyun..” you mumbled, mindless, completely spent, and somehow still desperate for more of him. 

After a few moments of his slower, more calculated thrusts, you began to push your hips back up into him, chasing more contact. You could tell he was getting close too, feeling the way he throbbed inside you, no longer keeping up a steady rhythm.

Before you could even react to his movements he rolled his body to have you on top, straddling him as you sat in his lap with him still deep inside. 

“Ride me.” He said, and you planted both hands on his chest, sliding him out of you, only leaving the tip just barely inside before sinking all the way down, letting your body weight push him into you even deeper than before. When you started bouncing, impaling yourself on his cock over and over he reached out for you, grabbing at your hips and chest, kneading the soft skin. He sat up, sucking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting and driving you even closer to the edge of insanity, for the third time that morning. 

He left even more marks, your bouncing tits now bruised just like your thighs, the sight of his marks on you blooming something needy and possessive inside him. He rolled you onto your back once more, folding you in half, his thumb going down to your clit to push you even closer, now that he was so close to falling himself. 

“With me, baby, cum with me.” Your eyes met his and you nodded, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter, until it was crashing over you once more. 

“Say my name baby, tell me who makes you feel this fucking good.” 

“You, Baekhyun, fuck.” 

This orgasm was somehow even stronger than the last two, washing over you in wave after wave, prolonged by his last few thrusts, pushing as deep as he could get before filling you with his release. 

He shook, overtaken by how tightly you squeezed him as he came, nearly delirious at the intensity of it all. You were no better off as he took in the sight of you, writhing, arching, at the overstimulation. Your cheeks were a deep red and wet with tears, lips quivering and chest heaving, the thin layer of sweat sticking to your skin making you positively glow in the morning light. 

He collapsed on top of you, lips pressing themselves to your neck, worshipping you in his post orgasmic haze. 

“Stay.” He found himself mumbling, “Please stay.” 

Music show performances are the real killer of comeback weeks for idols. Waking up at ungodly hours to be transported to the program station and prepped for early morning recordings each day of the week was no easy feat. Day in and day out during this comeback week, Baekhyun found himself with little time before work and no energy after work to practice a very important form of self-care.

By the morning of the fifth day of the week, Baekhyun's morning wood was raging and impossible to ignore. He tried his best to wait it out, hoping it would go down by the time he showed up to the Inkigayo dressing rooms—but there was no luck. After getting dressed in his stage outfit, his boner persisted, confined within his pants but making an obvious bulge at his crotch. Baekhyun knew he didn't have too much time, standby was in just eight minutes. What was he going to do? There was no way he was going to get up in front of the audience and cameras with a noticeable hard-on.

Knock knock.

You, his trusty stylist knock on the door to check on him.

“Hey, you okay in there?” You questioned through the door after it had been double the time as usual that he spends getting dressed.

“Umm, yeah. I'll be out in a second!” He shouted back. Baekhyun panicked.

“I still need to look you over and make any adjustments, Baekhyun,” you cautioned him.

Shit, shit, shit, Baekhyun thought. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths but nothing changed the condition of his very erect member that strained helplessly in his pants.

“Five minutes!” The stage director shouted to the team, voice reaching even the ears of Baekhyun through the door.

You knock once more, urgently. “Baekhyun, are you dressed?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I'm coming in.” You turned the handle on the door to see Baekhyun, or, at least the back of him, appearing to be perfectly dressed and ready to go. “Baekhyun, let's go. You're on in five.”

He was silent as he kept his back to you and made no movements to turn around and leave. You gently grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. “Baekhyun, what are you—” His body gave a bit from your efforts. He continued to look down and you followed his gaze. Your eyes traveled down his torso to see what was making him so worrisome. The shocking sight of a very large bulge made it’s way into your view. Your eyes widened and you couldn't help but gasp. The all white ensemble did nothing to hide the dimensionality of his tented pants.

Baekhyun quickly turned back around, ashamed of his current state but at least you knew the reason for his strange behavior.

You thought for a moment, weighing different options in your head as the time only dwindled with each unproductive second that passed. You had to do something about it. Closing your eyes, you took a deep exhale before getting onto your knees. Baekhyun turned around and furrowed his eyebrows at your position. He stood frozen, gaping at you in disbelief.

You never thought you’d be here again, kneeling for him, ready to take his excited cock between your lips.

Indeed, you broke up with Baekhyun three months ago. Though your relationship ended, your job persisted. Every day you two still crossed paths and supported each other professionally.

You did this with confidence because, really, you knew he still wanted you; his stolen glances at you were hard to ignore.

“Come on. We don't have long.” You looked up at him expectantly, eyebrow raised as if to challenge him.

“Y/n, this is crazy,” he whisper-screamed. He was waiting for you to get up—for you to end your joke. But it wasn't a joke. The reality of it only became more apparent once he felt you reach for his zipper and unzipped his pants by yourself. Baekhyun blinked in disbelief. It was as if he was dreaming—seeing you on your knees, looking up at him with eager eyes.

“Three minutes!” You both heard the stage director announce boldly. The rest of the team began to knock on the door in concern over the ticking clock.

“We're handling it, guys! There's a wardrobe malfunction. We'll be done in two minutes.” You shouted back to pacify those on the other side of the door.

You hurriedly peeled back the top of his pants and forced down the waistband of his underwear. His cock sprung out ready to play and he let out a sigh of relief at the release of his confines. You notice the pre-cum pearled on his tip and thanked god that it hadn’t permeated through his boxers to his trousers.

You didn't stall. You took his dick into your mouth, immediately bobbing your head and swirling your tongue the way he liked—it was muscle memory.

Indeed, this was not your first time. You've been here before.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Baekhyun breathed out as he took all that you had to give him. You began to take him deeper and deeper down your throat while keeping your tongue flat—that always made him get to the edge quickly.

To give him the final push to cum, you continued to deep throat him while looking up into his eyes that held a lecherous gaze. Baekhyun loved to see the tears that well in your eyes when you take him all the way down your throat. Even more so, he loved to see them spill onto your flushed cheeks. And not to worry, you never missed a beat. You positioned his hand to the back of your head so that he could fuck your face at a faster tempo. With each thrust testing your gag reflex, you felt the tears build until finally, you blinked and they satisfyingly spilled over.

That sight that Baekhyun missed oh so much got him off. Without warning, his cum shot out unrelentingly, copiously. You could tell it had been many days since his last release. You swallowed it all, you know, to keep things neat. He swayed his head back and regained his composure.

“Wow, that was record time,” you commented. Baekhyun smirked before putting himself away to resume his duties.

You left the room with tear-stained cheeks and smudged lip stick. Everyone refrained from asking what happened because finally, the man of the hour was out and ready to get onto the stage with just 30 seconds to spare.

After the show that was successfully carried out, Baekhyun changed out of his stage clothing for his casual hoodie and sweatpants instead. Handing you the outfit neatly folded for you to take back to the company with the rest of the styling materials, he decided to shoot his shot… different from the one from earlier.

“You know... I really missed when we were together, I think—”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t blame me… shouldn’t have worn this skirt if you wanted me to keep my hands off you,” Chanyeol gasped against your lips, pressing searing kissses to your lips and all over your jaw.

You can’t help but lean into his touch, sprawled out beneath on the soft mattress he has you pinned to. It was just any normal evening, you showered, came out of the bathroom and got dressed, walked around the house quietly—not knowing you were driving Chanyeol absolutely delirious.

Until his restraint broke and now you were beneath him and he just couldn’t get enough of you.

A low whimper left your lips as his fingers moved beneath your skirt, thumb pressing to your clit through the flimsy fabric of your panties, drawing firm circles while his lips stayed attached to your neck and collarbones, sucking small marks into the supple skin that would bruise later for sure.

“So beautiful, my pretty girl…” he purred low in your ear, his fingers moving the fabric of your panties aside to quickly press two fingers inside your aching hole. Then his lips were back on yours immediately, swallowing your noises gratefully while his fingers pumped in and out of you at a deep and steady pace.

His fingers brushed against that spongy spot deep inside you repeatedly along with his thumb pressed to your clit firmly, making your thighs shake and your eyes flutter—just his fingers were enough to drive you crazy with pleasure. He knew your body like the back of his hand and knew just how to drive you crazy.

“Shit, it feels so good, yeol. Fuck!” You kept letting out the softest of noises for him and he only felt himself going more insane for you. You were far gone, your hips bucking up, almost riding his fingers while your one hand gripped his bicep, your orgasm approaching you quickly like a freight train.

He pushed his fingers deep in before pulling them almost all the way out, watching the way your hole fluttered around the tip of his fingers, he couldn’t help but groan as he pushed them back in, stroking your walls with an intensity that had you gasping.

Chanyeol’s weight was warm and heavy on you as he kept you pinned down, keeping your thighs apart with his knees, he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm, “I can feel you clenching, baby, you’re so close. C’mon, let go for me,”

And that was all the encouraging it took you to finally tip over the edge of pleasure, your back arching as you let out a loud moan of his name, your cunt clenching around his fingers in a vice-like grip which only seemed to spur him to only work you harder through your orgasm. His hand moving between your thighs at an inhuman space as you gushed down his fingers.

At last, he finally and slowly pulled his fingers out of you, wet with your orgasm and he slowly pulled them up to his lips while he sucked them into his mouth and licked them clean—all while maintaining an intense eye contact with you.

You just laid there, trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, your chest still heaving, all flushed. And so was Chanyeol, like he was the one who also had an orgasm so intense. Your eyes fluttered shut, but you were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts as you felt your boyfriend’s hands pulling down your skirt along with your panties.

“Don’t you dare think I’m done with you. You can give me a few more, baby,” with that, he flipped you over onto your stomach, hands pulling your hips up. A soft sigh left your lips and you just took it, let him manhandle you as he pleased.

Because you knew damn well that this night was far from being over.

— Deixa suas coisas aqui — tinham entrado pelos fundos de uma balada que só conseguiram alcançar depois de passarem por alguns, muitos, becos. Você desfazia o coque do ensaio enquanto guardava a bolsa junto com a de Jongin, onde ele havia indicado, deveria ficar de boa, afinal vocês se tocavam o tempo inteiro por causa do balé, mas seu coração quase saiu pela boca quando ele segurou sua mão, te conduzindo, as luzes douradas enfatizando sua pele no mesmo tom, melanina lhe caia tão bem quanto... sei lá, você por cima dele?

— Eu trabalho aqui, mas tô de folga hoje — você provavelmente esboçava uma expressão engraçada, que horas ele trabalhava ali? Ele tampouco dormia? Jongin não tinha olheiras, na verdade o rosto dele era lindo e... — você sabe dançar?

— Eu sei que você sabe balé, mas acho que você vai precisar de muito mais do que pliés aqui — ele te ajudou a se livrar da jaqueta e ainda bem que o tinha feito, seus olhos se arregalaram com a quantidade de gente que viu assim que “saíram do backstage”, Kai cumprimentou alguns colegas no bar e você anuiu com a cabeça para todos eles, agora percebia que ouviu música clássica a sua vida inteira e se sentia um peixe fora d'água com as batidas de uma música quente, garotas de shortinho e regatinha e muito esfrega-esfrega.

— Vem cá — ele pediu com um sorrisinho nos lábios, seu coração batia rápido, fosse pelo ambiente, pelos olhos de Jongin em você ou pelo fato que teria que se aproximar tanto, Jongin queria te puxar pra pista de dança, afastado do centro, mas mesmo assim na pista, numa brincadeira, você fez menção de se virar na direção oposta, mas ops, a mão dele ainda permanecia segurando a sua — vai ser legal, eu prometo.

— Legal? Eu não sei nem rebolar, Jongin.

— É mais fácil do que uma pirueta — você sorriu, pertinho dele, conseguia até observar uma gotinha de suor descendo traiçoeira pelo rosto, pescoço, passando pelo pomo de adão. Estava tão distraída que nem percebeu que ele te virava devagar pra ficar de costas, as mãos masculinas descansando no seu quadril da mesma forma que ele fazia quando tinha que te içar do chão — vou te ensinar a rebolar, só... só sente o meu corpo e tenta repetir.

Você só balançou a cabeça, achou que poderia gaguejar se dissesse alguma coisa, felizmente ou não estava acostumada com aquilo, por causa do balé aprendia rápido, mas Jongin começou devagar, sem pressa nenhuma, conduzindo seu corpo através do próprio corpo e das mãos no seu quadril, em algum momento o ritmo de vocês dois entrou em consenso, sentia o sorriso dele, assim como a quentura do corpo, estava te enlouquecendo.

Foi por isso que se virou, face a face novamente só conseguia prestar atenção naqueles cílios grandes, na boca bonita, a pele doce de leite, talvez toda sua inspeção tenha sido a razão pra ele te beijar, calmo, doce e gentil.

— Não tem nenhuma regra do festival que impeça a gente de transar, né? — você sorriu com a pergunta, balançando a cabeça pra esquerda e pra direita, Jongin suspirou aliviado, a mão mantendo seu queixo pra cima, a língua encontrando a sua num beijo que deveria ser um pecado de tão bom, talvez seria bom se confessar depois de todos esses beijos com um homem perigoso e devasso que sabia rebolar.

— Na cama eu sei rebolar — Jongin sorriu com a sua observação bastante útil.