#mingyu

you weren’t heartbroken; that would’ve implied there was something left to break.

you’d been on dates.

enough of them to know when there wouldn't be a second one before the drinks even hit the table.

enough to hear the same compliments repeated back to you like a script.

enough to recognize the tone men used when they were trying to impress you without actually learning anything real.

you’d slept with some of them, too.

sometimes because you wanted to. sometimes because you were desperate for relief. sometimes just to prove to yourself that you could still feel something, even if it didn’t last.

you weren’t bitter. you didn’t walk around openly hating men or rolling your eyes at every couple on the street.

you just didn’t have it in you anymore.

the hope. the performance. the energy it took to pretend someone’s bare minimum was enough.

so when you got home from yet another date that left you completely drained, you didn’t even bother with the lights.

you left your bag by the door, kicked your shoes aside, and sank onto the kitchen floor with a box of cookies at your side.

you weren’t heartbroken. you weren’t even sad. it was quieter than that; almost like resignation.

maybe it wasn’t that love never came; maybe it was that you were never the kind of person people stayed for.

being alone didn’t scare you.

what scared you was how much work it always seemed to take to avoid it.

every man felt like a mirror you kept wiping down, but no matter how clean you made it, the image was never your own.

it was smudged with their ego, clouded by their expectations, and warped by the way they looked at you like you were a puzzle they were entitled to solve.

you were tired of carving yourself down. of softening your edges. of apologizing for being too much or not enough.

tired of folding yourself smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of you at all, except whatever version might finally be enough to make someone stay.

your phone buzzed against the counter, a small sound that cut through the stillness and broke the spiral of your thoughts.

you kept your focus on the cookies in your lap, thumb working over the cardboard as though the solution to all of your problems might appear if you traced it long enough.

until it buzzed again. then again. and again.

you let out a weary sigh and reached for the phone, answering blindly, not bothering to see who it was before lifting it to your ear.

mostly because you already knew who was on the other end of the line.

“hi,” you said, voice low and a little scratchy from disuse.

“you sound like shit,” mingyu replied, warm and easy.

you smiled without meaning to. “thanks.”

fabric shifted on his end, a soft thud like he was throwing himself deeper into a couch.

“you didn’t text me today,” he spoke, not accusing, just noticing.

“mm,” you agreed quietly. “didn’t really feel like it.”

a quiet hum of understanding slipped out before his voice turned lighter. “hold on. didn’t you have that date tonight? with moustache guy?”

you shut your eyes. “unfortunately.”

“so…how bad was it?” he asked, already seeming to know the answer.

your head tipped back against the cupboard, the cool surface steadying you for a moment. “he called me dramatic,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“ouch.” he made the sound like a real wince. “what’d you do, insult his shirt?”

despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “no. i just didn’t want to sleep with him.”

the quiet that followed was brief, but you felt it; he was biting back his first thought and thinking of something more appropriate to say.

“ah,” he said finally, voice dry. “god forbid you make a decision about your own body.”

you snorted, the sound sharp in your throat. “right? how dare i.”

“so you blocked him?” he asked, though it sounded more like certainty than a question.

“while he was walking me home,” you admitted, reaching into the box for another stale cookie.

his laugh rolled through the receiver, low and warm. “brutal and efficient…i respect it.”

the sound pulled a laugh out of you too, small and worn around the edges, before it faded back into quiet.

his voice softened in the pause. “you doing okay, though?”

you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to tell him, but because you couldn’t figure out how to shape the heaviness in your chest into words.

“i’m tired,” you said at last, the words too small for what you actually meant. “not just tonight, though. it’s the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.”

“mm,” his agreement was soft, a sound that told you he knew exactly what that felt like, and that he’d been there more times than he could count.

his breathing stayed steady in your ear, present in a way that made the silence feel less empty.

“how did you even know it went badly?” the question slipped out before you could stop it.

“because you picked up,” he answered simply, as if that explained everything.

you frowned at the ceiling, not satisfied. “that doesn’t even make sense.”

there was movement on his end again, the soft rustle of fabric and a dull thud in the background, though his voice never faltered.

“you never pick up during good dates,” he reasoned. a pause stretched, just long enough for the smile in his voice to be obvious. “not that you’ve ever actually had one.”

your mouth fell open, half offended, half amused. “you are such an asshole.”

“tell me i’m wrong,” the grin in his voice was obvious, even without seeing his face.

you opened your mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out. you knew he was right.

“yeah. that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered.

“and correct,” he shot back without missing a beat, the faint shuffle of noise still bleeding through the line.

you squinted, suspicion tugging. “seriously, what are you doing? it sounds like you’re losing a fight with your furniture.”

“i’m coming over,” he said easily, the kind of casual certainty that came from years of getting away with it.

“gyu—” you started, fully ready to argue with him.

“don’t even start,” he cut in. “you’re not winning this one.”

“you don’t have to come,” you mumbled, curling tighter on the kitchen floor. “my apartment is a disaster, and i look like i’ve been hit by a bus.”

“cool,” he said, not missing a beat. “and?”

you blinked. “and i don’t want you to see me like this?”

his laugh slipped through, low and amused. “please. i’ve seen worse. like that night you got super wasted, missed the bathroom stall completely, and made me hold your hair while you cried into the toilet about how you were ‘too pretty to suffer like this.’”

you let out a dramatic groan, dragging your palm down your face. “you swore you’d never bring that up again.”

“i lied,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “messy hair and a graveyard of takeout boxes don’t even crack your top ten. i’ve watched you full-body sob during tangled.”

“that was emotional,” you defended.

“it was,” he agreed easily. “your eyes were swollen for hours afterwards.”

“you’re actually unbearable,” you muttered.

“maybe,” he said lightly, “but i’m still coming over. you don’t get to argue with me about it, either. i’m already out of the house.”

you shook your head, pressing the phone tighter to your ear. “this feels like harassment.”

his laugh came easy, smug enough to make your chest tighten in spite of yourself. “yeah, yeah. file a complaint when i get there. i’ll see you in ten.”

he ended the call before you could get another word in.

you stayed on the floor a little longer, the kitchen tiles cool against your legs.

your bra strap had slipped down your arm, the dress from earlier felt too tight, and the lingering scent of ramen from your date was starting to make your stomach turn.

eventually, you peeled yourself off of the floor and padded toward your bedroom, tugging at zippers and straps as you walked.

you made it to your room without bothering to flick on the light.

the soft outline of mingyu’s hoodie was easy to spot in the dark, still draped over your desk chair like it had been waiting for you.

you slipped it on and tugged a pair of cotton shorts from the drawer without bothering to check which ones they were.

you were already turning back towards the kitchen before you’d fully registered the choice; like your body had already decided for you.

the only light came from the lamp in the living room and the soft glow above the stove, casting a dim warmth over the mess you said you’d clean hours ago.

piled up boxes. dirty dishes. the garbage you should have changed yesterday.

none of it was catastrophic; just enough to be annoying.

you lingered in the doorway, taking it all in. like maybe, if you stared hard enough, the mess would clean itself.

you thought about moving. picking up a box, rinsing a dish, doing the bare minimum to prove that you weren't completely useless.

you stood there long enough to accept it wasn't going to happen.

you couldn't help but laugh at how pathetic it all felt.

it was a five minute job at best, yet you still allowed yourself to sink back down to the floor, because avoidance had always came easier than effort.

the apartment was quiet for all of thirty seconds before his voice crashed through it, loud and certain, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.

“yo,” mingyu called out. “sorry i’m late—traffic was actual hell, and your street is like a one-way to satan. also,” he paused, mostly for dramatic effect, “i brought some noodles and that weird mango drink you like. worship me accordingly.”

you leaned off the cupboards to glance toward the entrance. “you’re not late,” you said flatly. “i told you not to come.”

“and yet,” he replied, already kicking off his shoes. “here i am.”

he crouched down to fix them; heel to toe, perfectly aligned with yours like it was second nature.

it was just shoes. nothing more.

except most men you’d gone out with would’ve kicked them halfway across the floor, expecting you to deal with it later.

the care he gave to something so small shouldn’t have meant anything, but the heat that flickered low in your stomach said otherwise.

you dismissed it just as quickly as it came, telling yourself it was just the bad date making scraps of effort look bigger than they actually were.

with a groan, you tipped onto your back, landing against the tile with a quiet thud. one arm draped across your eyes, the other one splayed out like you’d officially given up. “god, you're annoying.”

“love you too,” he muttered, easing the bags onto the counter, careful not to knock over the leaning tower of unopened mail.

he turned and pulled the fridge open with one hand, already bracing himself. “wow. shredded cheese, expired oat milk, and…ranch? you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“oh my god,” you peeked out from under your arm to glare at him. “i literally had ramen earlier.”

he glanced at the takeout container still sitting on the counter; unopened and untouched.

“that from your date?” he asked, already tugging off the lid. “what, was the guy’s moustache so gross you lost your appetite?”

“can you not,” you sighed, laughter sneaking into your voice despite your best efforts.

he barely reacted. “you didn’t even eat this. the broth has a film.”

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to argue. “stop inspecting my trash like a raccoon.”

“stop living like a raccoon,” he shot back. “and sit up. this is getting depressing.”

“no,” you said. “maybe i like the floor.”

“my bad,” he said, stepping over you without hesitation. “i’ll leave you two alone, then.”

he picked up your container of ramen you'd abandoned on the counter, emptied the broth into the sink, and scraped the noodles into the trash.

there was no hesitation. no second thought.

only quick, deliberate movements carried out with the kind of ease that came from knowing exactly what needed to be done.

if it were up to you, the container would have gone straight into the trash, broth and all.

yet for some reason, it stayed in his hands.

he held it under the stream of hot water, and watched it spill over the sides until the cloudy film began to dissolve. he made it look so natural, as if rinsing it had always been the obvious choice.

without breaking his rhythm, he crouched down and tugged open the cabinet beneath the sink. his hand slipped inside, bypassing the clutter you usually shoved in there, until his palm landed on the caddy tucked against the wall.

he didn’t fumble or search. his fingers closed around the sponge instantly as he pulled it free in one smooth motion.

you stayed frozen on the floor, eyes locked on the way he worked it over the container.

the water slid over his veins as if it had chosen that path on purpose, dragging your gaze there and daring you to keep staring.

every drop seemed designed to make you notice the strength in his hands and each flex of his fingers, until you couldn’t stop imagining what else they could do if they turned their attention towards you instead.

before you could spiral any further, he rinsed the last of the bubbles away and placed the container neatly into the drying rack, never once glancing in your direction.

he wasn’t doing it for praise. he wasn’t trying to make a point, either.

he simply noticed what needed to be done, and instead of judging you or making you feel guilty for letting it sit, he took care of it himself without needing a single thank you.

it shouldn’t have made your stomach drop. it shouldn’t have made your mouth go dry.

yet the heat was already there, rushing low until you felt the dampness pool against the cotton of your shorts.

you pressed your thighs together, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t as obvious as it felt, but there was no denying it.

your body didn’t care about the logic. it only cared about the way his hands moved, sure and unbothered, as if caring for the mess you’d left behind came easier to him than just leaving it.

your eyes followed him as he moved towards the garbage. he gathered the bag in his hands, twisting it into a knot with an easy strength that made his forearms flex, his muscles shifting with every pull.

it was quick and efficient; the kind of movement that never asked to be noticed.

he placed it by the door, not just to move it out of the way, but with the unspoken intention of taking it out later. the kind of small, thoughtless promise no one else had ever made you.

when he stepped back into the room, you told yourself he had to be finished by now, though every part of you already knew he wasn’t.

the fabric of his sweats pulled tightly across his thighs as he crouched again, reaching for the cabinet.

a new bag rustled open in his hands, his fingers working with quiet certainty as he slipped it into the bin. each edge was pressed down carefully, tucked into place until it held exactly the way you liked it.

a task that should’ve looked mundane somehow carried weight in his hands. your pulse climbed in uneven beats, chest tight, as if the air in the room had turned heavier just because he was in it.

there was nothing seductive in what he did, yet every precise movement drew the heat higher until your body responded as though he’d touched you directly.

too many bad dates had taught you to not expect this kind of care.

you were used to men who thought effort stopped at sending a text, and who never lifted a finger unless it benefited them.

the guy from tonight hadn't even bothered to hold the door open for you, so the thought of him replacing a garbage bag was almost laughable.

most men had always treated care as an obligation; something only performed because they felt they had to.

with mingyu, it was instinct; as natural as his next breath.

something in you gave way the longer you watched him.

it became too easy to let your mind wander, to twist the steady rhythm of his hands into something else; something meant just for you.

suddenly, his hands weren’t cleaning anymore. they were gripping your hips, sliding lower until his fingers pressed between your thighs, stroking through the damp heat he’d already put there without even trying.

you could almost feel them pushing inside, filling you with the same easy certainty he carried into every small thing he did.

the realization of what you’d just imagined made your eyes snap shut, mortified at your own mind and yet powerless against the pulse it left thrumming through you.

by the time you found the courage to open them again, he was drying his palms against his sweats, shoulders rolling back as if he’d just wrapped up a shift.

“alright,” he said, stretching with a groan, joints popping as his hoodie slid higher. “time to get up, princess.”

you didn’t budge. your cheek stayed pressed to the tile, knees pulled in close, hair half-in your face.

he tipped his head at you. “hello? earth to y/n.”

you blinked. “what?”

“i said it’s time to get up,” he repeated, flat like it was obvious. “we’re not eating dinner with you laid out like a crime scene.”

“i’m fine here,” you muttered into your arm.

he gave your hip a light kick with his socked foot. “i know i look sexy doing dishes,” he smirked, already catching the eye roll you tried to hide. “but come on. pull it together.”

your head tipped just enough to glare at him. “you’re delusional.”

“and you’re dramatic,” he shot back without missing a beat, crouching just enough to extend his hand toward you. “now get up before i drag you to the couch myself.”

your lips twitched, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a smile. “i’d like to see you try,” you mumbled, even as your hand slipped into his.

he tugged you up in one smooth pull, steadying you with a hand at your back until your feet found the floor again.

the touch was brief, casual, but your skin still burned under it.

you shook him off a little too quickly, ducking your head like maybe he wouldn’t notice. his brows lifted anyway, but he let it slide.

“come on,” he said, already reaching for the takeout bags on the counter. “i didn’t bring all of this food over just so you could mope on the floor.”

you trailed him into the living room, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders shifted under his hoodie as he carried the takeout.

he collapsed onto the couch, bags spread across the table like he owned the place.

you hovered for a beat before sitting beside him, close but not too close, hoping he wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your body.

“so,” he started, tearing open the first container, “soonyoung threw a tantrum when i told him you weren’t coming to rehearsal today.”

your lips tugged at one corner. “define tantrum.”

“like…fully rolling on the floor,” he said, chopsticks already clicking into place. “claimed he couldn’t get through practice without his number one fan watching.”

“sounds about right.” you said, easily picturing his dramatics in your head.

“seungkwan even backed him up,” he went on. “got all serious about how you’re ‘the glue that holds us together.’” he mimed quotes in the air, rolling his eyes.

your laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

he turned his head upon hearing the sound, like he’d been waiting for it, then reached for another container. the lid snapped open, steam spilling up between you.

“they’re ridiculous.” you said, shaking your head.

“it gets worse,” he assured, “seokmin told everyone in the studio that you were cheating on him.” he said casually, as if it wasn’t the wildest thing to say.

your brows shot up. “cheating? he and i aren’t even—” you cut yourself off with a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head again. “my god, he’s actually insane.”

mingyu’s smirk tilted, like he wanted to say more, but he just went back to portioning noodles.

you watched him work. how his hands moved quick and precise without thought. the crease in his brow when the chopsticks slipped.

the way his shoulder brushed yours when he reached for another box, like he didn’t even register the contact.

even if he didn’t, it still left you warm and restless, your shorts clinging tighter as your pulse tripping over itself.

you forced yourself still, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach, hoping he couldn’t read what was written all over your body.

without any warning, he slid the plate onto your lap, already reaching for another.

you glanced down ready to thank him, only to freeze.

every bite was exactly what you liked; no stray toppings, no sides bleeding into each other. even the noodles sat neat, twisted in their own space like he’d portioned them with care.

your brows furrowed. “wait…this is for me?”

“yeah?” his tone was flat, chopsticks already busy over his own plate.

“no, but—you separated everything.” you gestured vaguely at the plate, thrown. “none of the food’s even touching.”

he shrugged like it wasn’t worth noticing. “yeah. you hate it when it does.”

your mouth opened, stalled. “since when do you—”

“since always.” his smirk tugged faint, eyes still on the food. “i just pay attention. relax, it’s not that deep.”

you sat there, pulse loud in your ears, trying to pretend it wasn’t.

your shorts clung even tighter when you shifted, and the heat crawling up your neck made the plate almost too warm to balance on your lap.

by the time he leaned back with his own food, your eyes still hadn’t left him once.

his brows drew together, catching it instantly. “what?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“you’re staring,” he said, chopsticks frozen midair like he’d caught you red-handed.

“am not,” you muttered, keeping your eyes locked on the plate in your lap.

“are too,” he shot back, smirk tugging as his chopsticks hovered. “seriously, what’s your deal?”

you shifted slightly, tugging your knees in closer as the words spilled out before you could catch them. “you’re just…way too thoughtful.”

he blinked, deadpan. “that’s a crime now?”

“no, it’s—” you waved a hand at the table, trying to find the words. “you cleaned, you set everything up, you made my plate exactly right without even asking—”

he glanced up mid-bite, chopsticks pausing. “uh-huh.”

“and you didn’t even hesitate, you just—” your voice pitched higher, flustered. “you just did it, like it was nothing—”

he reached for his bottle of water, lifting it toward his mouth, eyes narrowing with a half-smile. “because it is nothing.”

“it’s not nothing, gyu!” you shot back, heat crawling up your neck. “it’s—it’s hot, okay?”

he choked mid-sip, coughing and laughing all at once, nearly spraying water across the table as his shoulders shook.

at the same time, you slapped your hand over your mouth, instantly mortified. “oh my god.”

he was still coughing through a laugh, sleeve dragging across his mouth as his grin broke wide. “hot?” his voice cracked, half-raspy. “you think me scrubbing your dishes is hot?”

“nope,” you blurted through your hand. “you’re hearing things.”

his eyes lit like he’d just been handed blackmail material for life. “unbelievable. years of friendship, and this is how i find out your kink is…choreplay?”

“shut up,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

“no fucking way,” his hand patted at his sweats like he was checking his pockets. “where’s my phone? the boys have to hear this—”

your stomach dropped, panic snapping through you. “don’t you dare.”

his grin only widened, his hands now patting down the front pocket of his hoodie like he was already halfway to victory. “oh, i definitely dare.”

you scrambled to shove your plate onto the coffee table, causing the chopsticks to clatter against porcelain in your rush. “nope. no. absolutely not—”

he’d barely gotten his fingers inside of his pocket before you launched yourself across the couch, tackling him sideways into the cushions.

he landed flat on his back with a thud, and you climbed over him, straddling his hips while reaching desperately for his hoodie pocket.

“this is an invasion of privacy!” he gasped, twisting under you, but his laugh broke through every word.

“you don’t need privacy!” you shot back, breathless, hair falling in your face. “you need to shut up!”

his free hand darted to your side, fingers digging right into the spot he knew would make you squeal.

you squirmed against him, shrieking through your laughter. “stop, you asshole!”

he was laughing so hard his voice cracked, words tumbling out between breaths. “you picked the fight—i’m just defending myself!”

you finally slipped your hand into his pocket and yanked his phone free.

“mine!” you yelled triumphantly as you tossed it gently onto the carpet, way out of reach.

he burst out laughing, head sinking back into the cushion, chest shaking under you. “unreal,” he wheezed, grin splitting wide. “you just committed straight-up theft.”

“it was self-defense,” you corrected, still straddling his hips as you tried to hold him down. “you were about to ruin my life.”

his hands came up half-heartedly, bracing against your thighs as his laugh cracked again.

“you literally said i was hot when all i did was rinse a bowl—” he bucked his hips just enough to throw you off balance, making you squeal. “imagine if i started mopping the floors.”

“stop talking.” you slapped your hand over his mouth, desperate to stop the teasing.

he looked at you with mock innocence, then dragged his tongue across your palm.

you yanked it back with a yelp. “gross!”

he laughed so hard it broke into hiccups, chest still shaking.

your forehead pressed into his hoodie, both of you still caught in the aftershock of laughter.

the sound trailed off in little bursts, until it faded completely. silence settled around you, thicker than it had any right to be.

you lifted your head without meaning to, hair falling forward, your fists still bunched in the fabric of his hoodie.

he was right there; flat on his back, smile softening into something slower that tugged at your ribs.

the awareness of it all seeped in slowly, until every place your body touched his became impossible to ignore.

your thighs hugged his sides. your hips were pressed flush against his. his palms rested warm and steady on your bare legs, fingers splayed like he didn’t trust himself to move.

your faces hovered only inches apart from one another, the remnants of his grin fading as the air thickened between you.

the echo of laughter still hummed in your chest, but it was drowned beneath the heavy thud of your heartbeat.

the ache you’d been pushing down all night came rushing back, hot and relentless, flooding every nerve until there was no disguising it.

every slight shift of your hips made it worse. your slick heat pressed directly against him; betraying just how badly you wanted more.

his eyes held yours, steady and certain, as if he could read every thought you were trying to bury.

a quick flicker down to your lips slipped past his control; small enough to deny, but impossible for you to miss.

the second his gaze lifted to yours again, the tension snapped.

you closed the gap in a rush, kissing him with all the want you’d been choking down.

he answered immediately, almost as if he’d been holding back just as much. the kiss was deep from the start, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of certainty that stole your breath.

his palm skimmed up your bare thigh until it fit at your waist, while his other hand curled behind your neck, coaxing you closer, unable to bear an inch of distance.

the pressure of his hands anchored you as he shifted beneath you, pushing up from the cushions until he was sitting.

the movement never broke the kiss; it only dragged you closer, chest to chest, your legs tightening instinctively around his hips.

his mouth worked over yours hungrily, lips parting like he couldn’t get enough. you clutched at his hoodie, fingers knotted tightly in the fabric, pulling harder to erase whatever little space remained.

every brush of his mouth made your pulse spike harder. every drag of his lips left your lungs aching, but neither of you were willing to stop long enough to breathe.

his lips moved against yours like he already knew every secret you’d been hiding. each shift was deliberate, practiced without practice, pulling raw sounds out of you before you even realized you were making them.

his hand left the back of your neck first, dragging slowly over your skin before slipping down to join the other at your waist.

his hands slipped lower in a slow drag, following the natural curve of your body until both palms curved around your ass, pressing you down against the growing buldge in his sweatpants.

the press of him right against your center dragged a moan from your throat before you could stop it, hips rolling down on instinct, desperate to feel more of the friction you’d been aching for all night.

“breathe,” he murmured against your mouth, voice steady even through his own ragged breath. “i’ve got you.”

your hips rolled again before you could stop them, chasing more of the thick heat beneath his sweats. the noise he made vibrated through your chest, deep and broken, sending sparks racing down your spine.

you clenched around nothing, thighs tightening at his sides, every nerve screaming for more.

“gyu,” you whispered, voice trembling. “please.”

his thumb brushed slowly over your side through your hoodie, grounding you even as his mouth swallowed your plea.

“i hear you,” he said, rough and certain. “but we’re not doing this here. not on a couch.”

the protest tangled with want on your tongue, but you gave a shaky nod. “okay,” you breathed.

his grip tightened, both hands already firm at your ass, and in one motion, you were lifted off the couch.

your legs wrapped around his waist before you even thought about it, a startled laugh breaking from your chest as his mouth chased yours again.

he carried you like he’d done it a thousand times, steady even with your legs locked tight around him.

your back met the mattress before you even realized you had made it to your bedroom, the mattress dipping under your shared weight as he laid you down without once breaking the kiss.

he hovered above you, his weight balanced on one arm, while his other hand found your jaw. his thumb traced lightly along your skin as his eyes searched yours. “still with me?”

“still with you,” you whispered.

he brushed a strand of hair away from your lips, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary before adjusting the pillow under your head.

he caught the details no one else ever did; every small adjustment only served as proof that he knew exactly what you needed before you said a word.

his hand drifted lower again, pausing at the hem of your hoodie. “can i?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

“please,” you breathed, the word spilling out before you could catch it.

he pulled the hoodie over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in nothing but your bra and shorts.

the air hit cool against your skin, though it was nothing compared to his stare, heavy with years of memorizing every detail; knowing you in ways no one else ever had.

“fuck,” he murmured as his hand lifted to your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. “you’re so beautiful.”

your breath hitched, chest pressing up into his. heat rushed over your skin, your body giving you away as your hips shifted closer, chasing him without thought.

his lips moved with purpose, each kiss a quiet claim as he trailed them along your jaw, across your cheek, down the line of your throat, and back up to your lips.

his mouth traced you in reverence, each touch tugging another tremor loose, stoking the ache already clawing at you.

his hands followed the same rhythm, palms sliding over your sides, dragging heat everywhere they lingered.

he touched you like he already knew what your body was asking for; steady where you needed grounding, firmer where you were aching for pressure.

he moved with purpose, mapping you in ways that left no part of you untouched, and no ache unanswered.

your fingers slipped to the hem of his hoodie, tugging at it clumsily, more desperate than precise. you weren’t subtle about it, trying to work it up his torso without breaking the kiss.

his mouth curved against yours in a half-laugh, half-groan. “you know you can just ask, right?” he murmured, amused even through the rasp of his breath.

you rolled your eyes, breath catching anyway. “just take it off,” you whispered, impatience clear in your voice.

he rocked back onto on his heels, and tugged the hoodie off in one smooth pull. the shirt beneath stretched across his shoulders, while his sweats slouched low on his hips like an invitation.

your gaze slipped down, dragging his with it, until you were both staring at the obvious wet mark stamped across his lap.

your stomach flipped, eyes flying wide before you could stop them. his laugh cracked out, caught somewhere between disbelief and delight.

“wow,” he said, brows shooting up. “i rinse one bowl and you baptize my pants?”

you slapped a hand over your mouth, laughter already breaking through. “oh my god—no! that is not from me!”

his grin only widened, mischief written all over it. “no? so what, i pissed myself?”

you let out a choked laugh, shoulders shaking. “maybe you did!”

he leaned closer, laughter still shaking out of him, his hands warm and steady at your hips. “mm. want me to check your shorts, just to be sure?”

you shifted in his grip, laughing helplessly even as your face burned. “absolutely not!”

his grin turned smug, laughter still ghosting in his voice. “that’s what i thought.” his thumbs pressed deeper into your hips, steady and sure. “guess initiative really does go a long way, huh?”

you rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “apparently.”

he hummed, pleased, leaning in closer until his nose brushed yours. “good answer,” he mumbled.

his mouth found yours again, the trace of a smile still there, though it melted quickly into something hungrier.

his knee slid between your thighs, nudging them a little further apart, while his hands tightened at your hips, keeping you close.

you gasped into him, the sound breaking into a whimper when he angled himself lower, kissing along your jaw.

“there she is,” he murmured, voice brushing warm against your pulse before his lips dragged down your neck.

your breath caught as your hands slipped to his chest, sliding lower, reaching for the hem of his shirt. he caught your wrists easily, pressing a soft kiss into your open palm.

“not yet,” he whispered, steady and certain. “this is about you.”

his mouth trailed down slowly, lingering against your collarbone before sinking down the curve between your breasts.

his lips lingered like he had all the time in the world, and every deliberate pause only made your need claw harder, trembling for the next touch.

he knew exactly what you needed without you ever having to say it.

he caught it in the way your legs tightened, in the way your hips tipped towards him, in the twitch of your hands gripping the sheets.

he noticed everything, always had, and now he was using it to unravel you piece by piece.

“i’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” he breathed against the lace of your bra, voice low like he almost couldn’t believe you were real.

his hand slid beneath you, guiding your back into a soft arch. the clasp of your bra gave way under his fingers like it had been waiting for him, undone without him ever breaking from your skin.

the straps slipped down your shoulders, one after the other, and his mouth followed their path in slow devotion.

every new inch of bare skin was met with his lips, each kiss a quiet vow that nothing about you would be left unseen. he traced you with patience, as though to prove that you were worth memorizing in full.

his lips found the swell of your breast, his hands steadying you against the tremor of your own breath.

his lips lingered wherever they touched, tracing the faint lines that marked your skin as though they were meant to be cherished, never concealed.

“so beautiful,” he said, voice quiet but unshakably sure, like the words had been waiting years to fall out of him. “every inch of you.”

his tongue flicked over your nipple and the moan that tore from you was answered instantly by his own; muffled against your breast, like the taste of you undid him as much as his touch wrecked you.

your thighs shifted restlessly, helpless in their search for relief.

“you’re already trembling,” he breathed, kissing down over your ribs, following the soft curve beneath your breast. “and i’ve hardly even touched you.”

your voice broke apart on his name. “gyu—”

he didn’t look up, lips still moving like prayer, heat spilling across your skin. “no one’s ever touched you like this, have they?”

the truth of it broke you open, unraveling you from the inside out. your breath faltered, stuttered, until it was nothing but gasps and moans, your hips tilting into his hands without thought.

“i—” the attempt at words dissolved into moans, “fuck—oh my god—”

his palms slid down, fingers tracing the edge of your shorts, stopping just above where you needed him most.

“yeah,” he said, already knowing the proof had been in your body all along. “i figured.”

instead of giving in right away, he bent to your waist, his lips dragging heat over the skin just above your shorts.

“they never earned this,” he said, voice quiet but edged with conviction. “never learned you like this.”

“oh god,” the sound tore out of you, thin and desperate, your fingers curling around his wrist with no strength behind them.

he took your weak hold as encouragement, not resistance.

“they didn’t take their time,” he whispered, lips tracing slowly over the softness of your stomach. “didn’t listen.”

your fingers found his hair, tugging softly, guiding him closer without words.

“p-please,” you pleaded, the word breaking before it even left your throat.

his head lifted just enough to meet your eyes, steadying you in an instant.

“oh, baby,” his voice softened as one hand left your waist, reaching for the pillow beside you.

he slid it close, eyes never leaving yours. “lift up for me, princess,” he coaxed gently. “just a little.”

you obeyed, lifting just enough for him to slide the pillow breath you. his hands adjusted it with care, easing your hips down until he was sure you were comfortable.

“there we go,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your skin. “that’s better.”

his thumb traced idle circles at your hip, grounding you while the other hand slid lower. when his fingers brushed the band of your shorts, he lifted his gaze, catching yours with a question he didn’t need to voice.

the quiet in his eyes made your chest ache; knowing he would wait if you asked him to. your body answered before your words could, hips tilting up in silent permission.

his lips tugged into a soft smile, eyes fixed on you as he drew the fabric down.

he shifted your shorts and underwear down slowly, guiding the fabric over your hips with deliberate care; every motion unhurried, every detail handled with care.

he gently lifted your leg, his hand steady at your calf. his lips pressed to your ankle first, soft and lingering, before traveling upward in slow succession.

each kiss trailed higher — the curve of your calf, the dip at your knee, the inside of your thigh — like he was intent on worshipping every step closer to where you ached for him most.

your nails dug into the sheets as his palms splayed over your thighs, easing them apart.

“breathe for me, sweetheart,” his voice was strained, as if he was holding himself back just to guide you. “just breathe.”

your body obeyed his words before your mind could, chest lifting with a shaky breath.

he didn’t let you finish it.

his mouth found you the next second; no hesitation, no warning. just him, warm and certain, like he’d been holding back only for as long as you could bear.

the pillow lifted you right into his mouth, every inch of you exposed to the slow drag of his tongue. his mouth worked with a patience that burned, each movement a vow to remember every detail of you.

your fingers threaded into his hair, desperate for something to hold on to.

“oh my—fuck—” the words tore out half-formed before collapsing into a moan you couldn’t contain.

he groaned in response, the sound reverberating against you as his grip tightened on your thighs, steadying you when your body tried to jolt away.

the way he moved against you was unhurried, and devastating in its precision. every swipe of his tongue felt like he already knew what would break you apart.

your chest heaved, breath shattering into pieces. you tightened your grip in his hair, dragging him closer without thinking.

he let you guide him, humming low like the taste of you was everything he’d ever wanted.

heat rushed through your stomach, twisting tighter with every pass of his mouth.

you were soaked. aching. unraveling with every second he stayed between your thighs.

“feels so good—” you choked out, hand fisting in the sheets now. “i can’t—it’s—gyu.”

he paused just long enough to glance up at you, eyes dark and blown wide with need. “you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby.” he praised, voice filled with honesty.

he found you again without pause, urgency written in every motion. his lips tightened over you, his tongue pushing deeper than before.

your head tipped back, voice spilling out like prayer. “don’t—please don’t—don’t stop—please.”

another groan broke free from his mouth, vibrating through your every nerve.

pleasure ripped through you so fast it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you clinging to him as though he was the only thing keeping you tethered.

“that’s it,” he whispered against you, voice low, almost reverent. “let it happen, baby.”

your thighs quivered around his shoulders, hips twisting helplessly.

his hold only tightened, dragging you deeper into every surge of pleasure until you had no other choice but to give in.

“gyu—fuck,” you gasped, tears stinging from the intensity of it all.

he slowed his pace, pressing soothing kisses as his thumbs circled your skin.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “you did so good for me.”

your chest heaved, lungs struggling to catch up with the aftershock.

when his gaze lifted, the change was immediate; eyes softening on sight, like tasting you had only deepened the reverence already written into him.

your lungs were still searching for air when he started climbing back up your body, mouth brushing every inch along the way.

your thigh. your stomach. the underside of your breast. your collarbone.

each kiss softer than the last, like he was pulling you back into yourself piece by piece.

by the time he found your mouth, you were already leaning into him, reaching before you realized it.

his lips lingered, smiling faintly against yours. “felt good, huh, beautiful girl?”

a broken laugh slipped out, shaky as you tried to catch your breath. “good?” you asked, head shaking in disbelief. “gyu, no one’s ever—” you paused, voice breaking, “not like that.”

his grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, soft but smug, like he couldn’t help himself.

“yeah?” he teased gently, eyes searching yours. “that’s because they were all idiots.”

he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before kissing the corner of your mouth. “you deserve more than they’ll ever know how to give.”

his words sank deep, leaving you trembling all over again. you tried to laugh, but it broke halfway when his lips caught yours, sealing the truth of his words right into you.

what began tender turned restless in seconds.

his mouth moved against yours, only you couldn’t help but deepen it, chasing him like you couldn’t get close enough.

his chest pinned you down as his hips dragged slowly between your thighs. you felt him, hard and thick through his sweats, sending another wave of heat to rip through you.

it didn’t matter that you’d already fallen apart once; your body lit up for him all over again.

a whimper caught in your throat, swallowed by his kiss as your hands scrambled higher, clawing at his shirt.

you tugged like you were frantic; like the thin barrier of fabric was the only thing keeping you from breathing.

“off,” you rasped against his lips, desperate, the word breaking. “please—take it off.”

“yes, ma’am.” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, but it vanished the second your fingers brushed his waistband like you couldn’t wait a second longer.

you shoved his sweats down with shaking hands, boxers going along, nearly knocking him off balance in your urgency.

he huffed a laugh, his eyes catching the hunger in yours. “greedy, are we?” he chuckled, sounding more undone than smug.

“shut up,” you shot back, no patience for his teasing.

your eyes had already landed on him; thick and already slick at the tip.

heat rushed hot up your chest, a grin tugging weakly at your lips despite yourself. “so that’s what i do to you?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “you know what you do to me.”

“still,” you whispered, tugging him closer, “it’s nice to have the evidence.”

a rough laugh slipped from him, cut short as his mouth slammed back onto yours, heavy with need.

your legs wrapped around his waist without thought, but he held himself back; grinding his hard length through your slick folds with a patience that felt merciless, his lips still on yours like he needed to drink down every sound before giving you more.

“turn over for me, baby.” his voice was rough at the edges, but his touch stayed soft, guiding you onto your stomach like he was handling something precious.

as you shifted, the pillow resting underneath your hips slipped slightly.

before you could react, his hand was already there, sliding it back beneath your stomach with quiet care; making sure the angle favoured your comfort more than his own.

“there we go,” he muttered, like he was admiring a work of art. “just like that, angel. fuck—look at you.”

you could feel the heat of him behind you, hovering close, and the way his hands coasted up and down your sides; thumbs pressing in like he was trying to memorize every inch.

“you’re unreal,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “my fucking dream girl.”

his palms settled at your waist, urging your hips higher before gliding up your spine, pressing lightly between your shoulders until your chest sank into the mattress.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned as he lined himself up. “you’re gonna kill me.”

the blunt press of him at your entrance had you gasping, nails twisting in the sheets.

“gyu—” your voice cracked, the sound nothing but a plea.

“i know, i know.” his hand smoothed down your side, soothing you. “just breathe, beautiful. i’ve got you.”

he slid in with agonizing slowness, every inch a stretch that stole the air directly from your lungs.

a broken sound escaped you, and his groan followed fast, spilling into the space between your bodies.

“f-fuck—” your cried helplessly, “it’s—oh my—fuck—”

he bottomed out with a shudder, his hips pressed flush against you, both of you shaking with the effort it took not to fall apart right there.

his forehead dropped between your shoulders, breath hot against your skin.

“jesus christ—” he groaned, the sound rough and reverent all at once. “you feel—fuck, baby, you feel insane.”

your back arched, body clenching around him, another helpless moan tearing through you. “too much—no, it’s—god, gyu—it’s so good.” the words spilled broken, tumbling past your lips before you could catch them.

his hand slid to your stomach, pulling you up into him, grounding you through the dizzy stretch. “that’s it,” he murmured, kissing along your shoulder blade. “you’re doing—f-fuck—you’re perfect—fucking made for me.”

your thighs quivered, but the need to feel him move was stronger than the ache. you shifted back against him, desperate. “please…move—i need—”

he groaned again, like your words undid him. “fuck—yeah, baby, i know.”

he slowly eased his hips back, dragging himself out until you thought you’d break, then pushed in again, steady and deep.

the rhythm was unhurried but merciless; every stroke deliberate, every thrust angled like he knew exactly how to pull you apart.

after a few slow strokes, his pace quickened; each thrust sinking deeper, chasing every sound that spilled from you.

“there it is—fuck, yeah. that’s it,” he breathed, forehead tipping down for a beat before he straightened again, eyes locked on the way your body yielded to him.

your moans spilled raw into the mattress, high pitched and broken, your hips rocking back into him without thought. “oh my god—don’t stop—please, gyu, don’t—”

he answered with another thrust, sharp enough to punch a cry straight out of you.

“never,” he panted, jaw tight, reverence spilling through every word. “you feel too fucking good—i could stay here forever.”

your walls clenched tight around him, the build snapping faster than you could process.

“gyu—i’m gonna—fuck—” the cry tore out of you as your whole body bowed into the mattress, release ripping straight through you.

he groaned at the feel of you breaking around him, hips stuttering once before he forced himself to steady, dragging it out for you instead of chasing his own end.

“fuck—yeah—” his voice cracked. “that’s it, angel…let go for me—just like that.”

your thighs shook uncontrollably, but his hands steadied you; one gripping your waist, the other pressing into your stomach, keeping you grounded as you unraveled.

the sob that followed buried itself in the sheets, your release hitting so hard it fractured every breath into ragged pieces.

he bent over you, lips trailing soft kisses along your spine, his hips still moving but gentler now, easing you down instead of pulling you higher.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered into your skin, kissing your shoulder like a vow. “just breathe for me, angel…that’s all you need to do.”

he eased out of you slowly, the sudden emptiness pulling a broken whimper from your throat before you could stop it. “gyu—w-why…what are you—”

“shh, i know, sweetheart,” he soothed, palms steady as they skimmed your sides, guiding you gently. “just needed to see you. fuck—look at you. you think i could stop now?”

desire threaded through his voice, yet his hands remained careful, guiding you as if you were fragile in his hold. he eased you onto your back, settling your hips back onto the pillow with a care that made it clear he wouldn’t let you feel anything but comfort.

you let him move you, pliant in his hold, your body trembling as you blinked up at him. his hand cradled the back of your neck, thumb tracing lightly like he needed to feel you breathe.

he kissed your temple first, lingering there, before trailing down to your cheek.

his mouth wandered unhurriedly across your skin; tracing over your brow, brushing the bridge of your nose, grazing the corner of your lips.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, words cracked but full of awe.

your smile barely surfaced, dazed and weak, but it was there. “hi,” you breathed back.

his forehead tipped to yours, lips brushing in a fleeting kiss. “you okay?” he asked, though the look in his eyes said he already knew the answer.

your breath caught, a soft laugh tumbling out with your words. “more than okay.”

the corner of his mouth curved into a soft smile before he slid his hand down to steady your hip.

he lined himself up and pushed back in with one long, steady stroke. the stretch tore a gasp from your throat, your body clenching around him so hard it forced a groan straight out of him.

“jesus—” his voice cracked, forehead pressing to yours again. “baby, you feel—fuck—you’re so tight.”

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, mouth falling open on a sound you couldn’t swallow down.

“gyu—” his name slipped from your lips, almost a sob. “it’s—s-so deep—oh my god.”

his palm pressed firm to your stomach, making sure you felt every inch of him. “there we go,” he rasped, kissing your jaw through ragged breaths. “you’re taking me so well, beautiful. you’re—fuck, you’re perfect.”

his hips pulled back, just enough to make you feel the loss, before he drove in sharper. the force knocked the air from your chest as your nails clawed down his shoulder blades.

“eyes on me,” he mumbled, catching your gaze. “don’t look away, baby—want to see you fall apart.”

your gaze clung to his until the next thrust stole it away, lids fluttering shut as another cry tore loose from your throat.

“no, no—look at me,” he urged, groaning when you blinked back up at him, glassy-eyed and trembling. “that’s it. good girl.”

your moans came fractured, tumbling past your lips with every push. “please—gyu, please, just like that—f-fuck—feels so good, so good—”

“fuck—” his voice cracked, hips driving harder, the sound of you begging ripping the control straight out of him.

“oh my god—i’m gonna—” the words broke into a sob, your voice splintering. “mingyu, i—fuck—i can’t—”

his thrusts faltered, a groan tearing from his chest as he forced himself deeper. “yes, you can, angel. just a little more—fuck—i can feel you. you’re right there.”

you broke apart around him, crying out his name like it was the only word left in you. “gyu—”

“that’s it—oh, fuck—that’s it, baby,” he gasped, forehead dropping to yours as his own rhythm fell apart. “come with me—yeah, just like that—fuck—”

your third release tore through you, carrying his first with it. your body squeezed around him, causing him to let out a wrecked moan as he came inside of you.

he stilled for a moment, chest pressed to yours as both of you trembled through the last shreds of release.

there was no detachment. no instinct to turn away. he hadn’t looked anywhere but at you.

when his breathing finally slowed, he pressed a soft kiss to your jaw. “are you okay?” he asked.

you nodded, unable to trust your voice.

he gave you a moment longer before easing out, slow and careful, drawing a broken whimper from your throat.

his mouth followed the loss; kissing the inside of your thigh, the curve of your hip, and the hollow below your ribs; each one gentle and deliberate in their own way.

“stay here,” he said softly. “just rest, baby.”

your head fell back against the pillow in the faintest nod, eyes glassy with exhaustion.

he lingered a second longer, his thumb brushing your cheek in a touch that felt reluctant, before finally pushing himself to stand.

he bent down to grab his boxers from where they’d been tossed, sliding them on around his hips.

the quiet between you stretched thin, filled only by the sound of his breathing and the faint creak of the floor.

by the time he reached the door, your chest was already tight. you stayed where you were, staring up at the ceiling, the fan turning in lazy circles above you.

the longer you watched, the more the quiet shifted.

at first it was just silence, but eventually, that silence turned into space, which slowly turned into panic.

you weren’t naïve. you knew the script.

sex that good, that messy, that consuming, usually ended the same way.

a roll to the side. maybe a muttered ‘that was fun’. the scrape of denim. the excuse about an early morning.

sometimes the door would shut before you’d even pulled the sheets over yourself.

your heart sank.

what if this was that moment?

what if you’d just traded years of friendship for a few hours of wreckless, selfish pleasure?

what if you’d just ruined everything?

before the thoughts could spiral any further, the door creaked open again.

“hey,” he spoke softly, not wanting to startle you.

you blinked towards him, body still draped exactly where he’d left you.

his boxers hung low on his hips, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, chest still flushed from the heat of you. a towel was slung over his shoulder, two water bottles gripped in one hand, and a warm cloth in the other.

your throat went tight. “you came back,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

his face softened immediately, something tender breaking through. “of course i did,” he said, stepping closer. “what—did you think i’d just disappear after that?”

you tried to smile, but it wavered.

“hey,” he said again, lowering onto the edge of the bed. “don’t go quiet on me now, pretty girl. not after you already woke all of the neighbors up.”

a soft, broken laugh escaped your lips.

he bent to press a soft kiss to your knee. “scoot up a little, sweetheart. let me take care of you.”

his hands moved with quiet certainty, every touch measured and unhurried. patience lingered in everything he did; a tenderness you weren’t used to.

you felt the difference in your chest before you even felt it between your thighs.

no one had ever done this for you before.

the most you’d ever been given was a half-hearted towel tossed your way, like it was your job to deal with the aftermath alone.

but here he was, treating you like you were something worth handling with delicacy.

“i kept the pillow there,” he said quietly, “’cause i figured you’d be sore. didn’t want you shifting too much.”

he finished with quiet care, dropping the cloth and towel into your hamper before reaching for your hoodie on the floor.

he eased it over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves, tugging it down until you were completely covered.

as he climbed back into the bed, you reached for him without thinking twice.

he was already leaning into you, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against him like it was the only place you belonged.

“you still with me?” he asked, lips brushing your hair.

you nodded, eyes still shut until his voice pulled you back.

you blinked up at him as he dipped his head, catching your gaze. “you scared me for a second.”

your voice was small. “i just…wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

his brow furrowed, a little hurt, though his tone stayed soft. “come on. you really thought i’d leave you like that?”

you huffed out a laugh. “it wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”

his chest rose on a sigh as he shifted to really look at you. “baby…what kind of assholes are you fucking?”

the bluntness startled a laugh out of you. “you’ve heard all the stories,” you reminded him.

“unfortunately.” his hand stayed warm at your spine, steadying you. “and i hated every single one of them.”

you froze, but he continued nonetheless.

“you don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “listening to you try to laugh off how some guy left before you could even breathe again—” he paused, exhaling hard through his nose. “i swear, prison stripes nearly sounded worth it.”

“you never said anything,” you said, genuinely surprised at his words.

his lips lifted into a small smile, but the weight in his eyes gave him away. “never felt like my place.”

“gyu…” you whispered.

he shook his head gently, already seeing where your thoughts were headed.

“you really don’t get it, do you?” his voice softened, a little rough at the edges.

“get what?” you murmured as your eyes searched his face for any clues on what he could be referring to.

his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, so tender it made your chest ache.

“how easy you are to love.”

you froze, lungs stuttering like they’d completely forgotten how to work.

“i’ve wanted to do this right for so long,” he whispered, leaning his forehead to yours. “not just the sex. all of it. making you laugh. holding you when you cry. being the one who never leaves. giving you the kind of love you should’ve had all along.”

your lips parted, but no sound followed. the weight of his words pressed down until all you could do was hold his gaze, completely undone by the gentleness in his voice.

“and if i ever have to hear about one more guy who made you feel like you were too much, or too emotional, or not worth sticking around for…” he shook his head again, softer this time. “i’ll lose my fucking mind. because you—”

he swallowed hard, trying to find the courage to continue. “you deserve someone who worships the ground you walk on. someone who thanks god every night that you chose them.”

you blinked hard, tears threatening to fall as a soft laugh escaped you. “you’re not supposed to make me cry after sex, idiot.”

“i meant what i said, you know,” he told you, his lips curving into that same boyish grin you’ve adored for years. “and i know my feelings aren’t one sided, either, ms. choreplay.”

tears slipped down your cheeks as you let out a shaky laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. “you are such an asshole, kim mingyu.”

“am i wrong?” he smirked. “because you—” he paused, tapping your thigh, “—basically had tears running down your thighs from me washing, like, two dishes.”

you groaned, burying your face in his chest. “please never phrase it like that again.”

he laughed, the sound warm against your cheek. “don’t act like you didn’t whimper when i changed the garbage bag.”

you pulled back just enough to glare at him. “my god, you’re always so full of yourself.”

his grin only widened, cocky and unbothered. “wait till you find out i sort my laundry by whites and darks.”

But just as he is all those things – he is your Achilles’ heel. You can never say no to Kim Mingyu, can never admit that he something more to you than you care to acknowledge beyond just that – something more. 

And just as easily as those flowers of yours were picked, they were tossed. Once they died, they served no value. You’d watch the petals fall onto your desk for a while, dried and crisp; before inevitably swiping them into the trash can and dumping the dirty water into the sink. The vase waited, empty (like you,) to be refilled once Mingyu swung by for his bi-monthly fix. 

It wasn’t always like this. 

You used to save some of the petals, some of the flowers themselves. Press them in wax paper between heavy books and forget about them until you read the books again. You’d toy with the dried petals, before they eventually became littered around your apartment – in the form of coasters, framed on the walls, even a pair of earrings you once made at a crafts class. 

Because in the beginning, in the very beginning – Mingyu was just your friend. 

He was your very nice, very attentive friend that brought you gorgeous bouquets from his florist friend’s shop, always picked out by Mingyu himself – down to the colorful paper wrapping and satin bow. You’d rarely see him more than once or twice a month as it was, because Mingyu is a very busy man – so the flowers were always accompanied with an apologetic smile and a quick kiss to your cheek. You’d make dinner together, or he’d cook for the two of you; his presence warm and inviting even in your own home.  

He’d serve you a glass of wine or three, plate your dinner like you’re at a nice restaurant and hand you extra silverware in case one of you fell victim to his butterfingers – and he knew your apartment like the back of his hand. He knew you like the back of his hand. 

Then, you kissed. 

One time. By complete and utter accident. 

You had moved into his typical cheek kiss in greeting, the both of you springing away almost immediately when you felt each other’s lips. You both spewed apologies like geysers, talking over one another before you both laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“No more kisses, got it. Could’ve said something earlier, you know.” He joked, but finally greeted you with a warm hug paired with a mumbled it’s so nice to see you that made your stomach flutter for the first time ever. You were wide eyed as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in the warmth of his body, in the soft feeling of his cashmere sweater that you’d given him for his birthday many moons ago. 

Unfortunately, the attempt to make dinner together was awkward. You were both anxiously trying to keep things level, trying to crack jokes and talk about your lives outside of each other when you just sighed; your hands on your hips as you glanced at him in your pink apron that was much too small. 

And he kissed you – this time, with purpose. He held your face gently between his hands, your own fisting the stupidly expensive cashmere sweater that left you without eggs and bread that month.  

Dinner wasn’t homemade, after all. He’d turned the stove off in your frenzy to pull his belt off, his hands holding you flush to him as he led you both to your bedroom – where he’d shown you exactly why his ex-girlfriend can’t leave him alone, and why your ex-boyfriend constantly felt inferior to him. He made it clear he wanted you, even if it was just for the night – and he wasn’t about to fuck up the only potential chance he’d gotten. 

You both fell asleep before either of you could say anything about the missed dinner, and the morning after was full of shy stares and a silent agreement – after you asked him if he’d even wanted to be your friend, if this was his plan all along. He admitted honestly that he’d never anticipated something like this and he never secretly wanted you, either – that he’d been your friend because he loves you, because you’re sweet and funny, because you’re you. 

Twice a month. Dinner. Sex. Repeat. Just to get the taste of each other off your tongues, to fill the void of feeling someone next to you while you’re sleeping. 

Eventually, you realized that things between you and Mingyu had grown to be just that – a fix. A bi-monthly, sometimes tri-monthly, fix; where he came to your apartment and still yielded those beautiful flowers. He’d gotten more into making dinner on his own, and you’d choose somethnig to watch – and you’d spend an hour or so filling each other in about your time apart over the warm meal and some stupid movie, if not Gilmore Girls. 

Until one of you leans in for the first kiss of the tumble, and the illusion of romance shatters at your fingertips. 

Not because Mingyu isn’t romantic; if anything, the guy could drown you in romance. In soft touches, in mood lighting, in catering to your every need while still meeting his own with little intereference. He’s kind and gentle, with an edge that makes your skin prickle when he works you over with his tongue between your thighs after peeling your clothes off with needy hands. He’s a bitch when his teeth nip at the skin of your thighs, his fingers digging into the meat of them like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he makes the wrong move; and you can feel the way he smiles against you as he brings you to the first orgasm of the night. 

He’s yours when he kisses you like you mean everything to him, when he holds your knees to your chest while you cry on his cock. He’s yours when he holds you close, massaging your hips and kissing the expanse of your bare shoulders. 

And you are his. 

You are absolutely, irrevocably his when he slips inside you for the second time that night – his teeth sinking lightly into your shoulder at how sensitive he is but he loves the way you feel. Shuddered whimpers will fill the room, murmurs of missing you when he’s gone as he nibbles on your earlobe; he leaves a mess between your thighs, snugly wrapped in your walls as you both drift to sleep. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Maybe it’s not all that romantic. 

Maybe it’s just...sex. Casual sex that convinces you it’s more the moment you press your lips to his because you’re so certain Heaven is a place on Earth – and it’s in Kim Mingyu’s arms. 

That’s where it all ends, anyway. He’s gone in the morning without much conversation; you’ll shower together like real couples do and he’s started keeping a few changes of clothes in your apartment. You’ll brush you teeth together like real couples do; he’ll even rub lotion on your back before kissing the back of your neck and asking if you want breakfast. If you say no, he leaves. 

If you say yes...he’ll make breakfast, an entire spread. He’ll make coffee, and he’ll sit right next to you in the cute breakfast nook that sold you on your apartment three years ago – right after you’d broken up with that ex-boyfriend that never liked Mingyu. For who he was, what he stood for or what he could provide...you weren’t all that sure. 

But you don’t really care, either. 

Mingyu helped decorate your apartment. He helped you make it yours and even slept on the floor of your bedroom with you when you were too scared to be alone on the first night. He didn’t complain about his very obviously sore neck the next morning, only giving you a quick hug goodbye as he left to his apartment six blocks away for a shower – and returning within two hours to help you paint your bathroom. 

They say that friends to lovers is the best way to go. Friends that know each other’s coffee orders by heart, turning into lovers that deliver said coffee with a kiss on the lips. Friends that help each other pick an outfit for a night out, becoming lovers who take said outfit off at the end of the night with their lips running down each other’s shoulders and other unnamed places. 

Lovers, who mean it more than words can explain, and the warmth of a fire could never rival the true heat behind it – the three little words that linger on your tongue. 

That stupid, stupid I love you. 

But you are you, and Mingyu is...well, he’s Mingyu. 

You’re not sure what you are. You’re certainly not friends, but you’re not lovers...you’re just Y/N and Mingyu, in limbo. No label, no questions and consequently, no answers. 

And you want an answer. You want to know what it’s like for him to hold you closer when you move away to slip out of your bed in the morning. You want to know what it’s like for him to flip you onto your back and kiss you despite the morning breath, what it’s like to be Mingyu’s, eternally, and never have a way out. 

But...you are you. 

And you know better. 

IT’S WEDNESDAY NIGHT WHEN YOUR PHONE PINGS ACROSS APARTMENT. 

You move out of the kitchen, making your way to it and grabbing it off the coffee table before flopping onto your couch. 

NEW! (3) Messages From: Mingyu ♡  [4:21 PM] hey, y/n  [4:21 PM] just a quick question, are you free this friday?  [4:21 PM] no pressure 💘 

You’re aptly draped across the couch for a distressed sigh as you read the messages. You throw your arm over your eyes, your heart beating just a little faster – there's a pot of stew heating up on the stove, and the whole house smells delicious as you close your eyes, knowing exactly how this could go. 

He’ll show up at your doorstep, ten minutes before he said he’d be there. He’ll be wearing one of his nice shirts – maybe it’ll be that baby blue one that you love – maybe it’ll be the dark red that he always tucks neatly into slacks. Maybe he’ll be dressed down, something you don’t to see all that often – sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, but he’ll still be carrying that stupidly large bouquet of flowers and a bottle of your favorite wine. He’ll kiss you hello again, but it won’t be on your cheek – no, he’ll kiss your lips. 

He’ll kiss your lips and hold your waist gently, pulling you into him. He’ll nip at your lower lip, inching his way into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before setting the flowers down on the foyer table and pulling away. He’ll say it’s nice to see you, that he missed you, that he wants to hear about your day before kissing you breathless. 

Because he’s Mingyu. 

“And I’ll fall for it every damn time,” you sigh, staring at the screen. Your fingers move quickly, typing a singular ‘sure’, only to see his read receipt pop up before you can even sit up. Like he’s waiting for you to answer – sat at his desk, the one that’s shoved in the corner of his office and way too cramped for a guy his size. The one that’s piled high with confidential documents, that he eats his lunch at that he packs himself early in the mornings. 

The one he’s sent you a few suggestive pieces of media from, the image of his silver watch moving up and down your screen still burned into your mind. 

NEW! (2) Messages from: Mingyu ♡  [4:26 PM] hm, don’t know if i liked the way you answered that.  [4:26 PM] are you okay? 

Are you? 

You don’t get much of a chance to reply before he’s calling you. You quickly decline it, texting back with the excuse that you’re in the shower. 

NEW! (2) Messages from: Mingyu ♡  [4:27 PM] you’re literally laying on your couch. you don’t shower until six.  [4:28 PM] this is your ‘lazy girl’ time, you’ve told me. i know. 

“Curse your memory, Kim Mingyu,” you grumble, fumbling around to call him on Facetime. He picks up on the second ring, putting his AirPod in – but he’s not dressed the way he usually is after work. Or rather, during: he’s still got thirty minutes to his workday. 

But you’re not complaining at the sleeveless white shirt, feeling your cheeks hot as he raises a brow at you through the screen. 

“What are you doing?” You prop yourself up on a throw pillow, only for Mingyu to flip the camera and show the inside of your favorite grocery store, “what are you doing there? It’s Wednesday, you should be at work.” 

“And you should tell me what’s got you so pouty.” He says pointedly, propping you up in the cart as he grabbed a bag for tomatoes. You’re silent as you watch him pick them out carefully, gentle fingers you miss wrapped around your throat squeezing the fruit softly. You blink as the thought leaves your mind, your mouth dry as you shake it off while he ties the plastic bag expertly. 

“So? What’s got you so iffy?”  “Nothing.”  “You’re a horrible liar.” 

Mingyu gives you a stern look as he hunches over the cart, pursing his lips as his eyes dart around the store for the next item to take him. Maybe peppers. Maybe a tub of soybean paste. 

Maybe someone else to fill his bed, his heart. His stomach, with delicious meals he never lets you cook for him anymore because, in his words – you're tired. You work so hard and you’ve had a long day, sweetheart. Just sit on the island and keep me company. 

“Need an answer sooner rather than later, sweetheart.” His voice is gentle as he grabs your attention again, only making you scoff as you wave him off with your hand. 

“Seriously, I’m fine.”  “I dunno. First, you give me a one-word answer. Never in our six-year friendship have you responded to me that way, even when you’re in a bad mood.” 

You tongue your cheek as he stops the cart in the snack aisle, your eyes floating immediately to the cinnamon biscuits right next to his head. He reaches for them, tossing the box into his cart without a second thought before reading the ingredients on a box of almond cookies, “next, you lie to me. A bold-faced lie, and to my face, at that.” 

“I lied to your phone screen, dramatic ass.” You mutter, watching the way his fingers drum against the yellow box. He’s wearing the ring you’d given him for Christmas last year, the white gold snug on his thumb as he hums. He puts the box back, grabbing another with a click of his tongue. 

“That I pay the bill on, mind you. So, you’re wasting time and money instead of just telling me what your deal is.” 

“There is no deal, Mingyu. I’m not BOGO.” You snort, shifting on your couch and resting your arm under your head. He looks at the phone, tossing the cookies into his cart, “I should be glad, BOGO of you would kill me. You’re more like buy one, get one half off.” 

“I think I’m more of a buy-two, get one free.”  “That’s even worse. One of you is more than enough. And that’s coming from me, someone who gets all of you regularly and happily, at that.” 

“‘All of me’ is a technicality.” You roll your eyes, only watching the tips of his ears turn pink as he analyzes yet another box. Crackers this time, cheddar ones. Not your favorite, and infinitely inferior to the Parmesan ones. 

“Be realistic, there’s no one but me. You’re just for me.” He murmurs, but the microphone catches it anyway. You tongue your cheek as he puts the box back, instead grabbing the Parmesan ones and throwing them in the cart. Your cheeks heat slightly as he nibbles on his lip, likely deep in thought as he looks over his cart. 

“Even if that’s true, you could still be nice to me.” 

“I’m so nice to you! I make you dinner, I buy you flowers, and I check in with you regularly. I get you gifts, I fixed your leaky faucet, and I rewired your entire gaming system after you moved into your apartment and didn’t want to figure it out. I’m the nicest guy ever, especially to you.” He huffs, and you let out a chuckle that makes his lips twitch. He masks it by sucking his teeth, and you shrug with an amused look on your face. 

“You cook me dinner because you want to, you buy me flowers because you feel guilty and you check in with me because your job keeps you from actually seeing me more than once or twice a month. You get me gifts to make up for the fact that you’re not around as often, you fixed my leaky faucet because I practically begged you to, and you rewired my gaming system because you and Wonwoo wanted to play GTA for six hours.” You point your finger at him, watching the way he nods before picking up his phone. The camera pauses, the sound of Left Right by XG playing in the store the only sound coming from his end. 

NEW! Message from: Mingyu ♡  [5:10 PM] i also go down on you because i want to, and i fuck you because i want to. but i don’t hear you complaining about that, hm? 

“Because I want it, too.” You ignore the heart surging on your cheeks as you watch the message bubble pop up again.  

NEW! Message from: Mingyu ♡  [5:11 PM] then be nice to me before i stop doing that for us, pillow princess. 

“I am not a pillow princess! You just never let me do anything!” 

The camera unpauses, showing Mingyu rolling his eyes and feigning disinterest before he sets the phone back down, “tell me what’s up or I’m coming over impromptu. I won’t give you time to tidy up, either.” 

“You wouldn’t do that; you probably have a nice steak in your basket. You wanna go home and cook it and text me all about how I’m missing out because I live six blocks away and won’t walk to your place because those heels I wear make me too tired.” You snicker, watching the way he mimics you and moves his hand in a talking motion. You only laugh harder, “Mingyu!” 

“Little louder, sweetheart. The neigbors know my name, anyway.”  “Kim Mingyu, I am a lady.” 

“A loud one,” he snorts, sucking his teeth as he makes his way down the liquor aisle. “Are you free on Friday or not? Enthusiastically free, happy-to-see-your-Mingyu free. Not that sure shit, have some respect.” 

“My Mingyu?” You smirk, but it’s a front. Your stomach is fluttering like crazy and you watch the way he bites back his smile to raise a brow at you. 

“You know any other Mingyus?”  “Park Mingyu from the finance team that has had the hots for me since before you moved to the city.” 

“He doesn’t count, he’s in finance. You’d get bored in two days.” He rolls his eyes again, “yes or no, sweetheart? My schedule fills up fast and I’m actively trying to get you in.” 

“More like you’re trying to get in me.”  “That too, but all I’m hearing right now is that you hate me. That’s not all I have you around for, you know.” 

You roll your eyes, sighing. He’s raking his eyes over you through the camera, grabbing a bottle of wine off the shelf as if it’s muscle memory. The label reads EISA Cabernet – your favorite. Particularly, when he makes you a thick steak with scalloped potatoes and asparagus that almost guarantees you fuck him within an inch of his life. 

And he never complains. 

“What’s wrong with you?”   “Nothing, Gyu. I promise.” 

He crosses his arms, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Then don’t.”  “You hate me.”  “Sometimes, when you make my steak too rare or you pull out.” 

“Haha, so funny.” He sticks his tongue out at you, and you can tell by the signs on the ceiling that he’s moving to the checkout line. “You’re really not gonna tell me what’s up with you?” 

“What do you want me to say, Mingyu? That I’m in distress? That I’m having a bad day?” You joke, before pouting exaggeratedly, “oh, please, Mingyu. I’ve had such a long, lonely day. Come over, I need you.” 

“Stop that.” He huffs, crossing his arms as he leans on the cart. You laugh again, running your hand through your hair as you feel his eyes trailing you. You raise a brow as his eyes stop on your chest, and you dramatically cover the bit of cleavage your V-neck sweater shows. He scoffs, tonguing his cheek as he gets a register, carefully parking the cart. “Tilt the camera to your face, I don’t need strangers seeing your whole chest.” 

“It’s not even my chest, dipshit. It’s my necklace at best.”  “Necklace I gave you.”  “Never pegged you to be a jealous, possessive man, Mr. Kim.” 

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” he shrugs, and you stick your tongue out at him as he scans his things. He shakes his head as you watch him, your eyes shamelessly trained on his arms as he moves about, before he snaps his fingers in front of the camera, “must you eye fuck me like that?” 

“Listen, friends can admire one another’s beauty. That’s part of it.”  “Sure, sweetheart. Friends also tell each other what’s bothering them, but I guess we’re not all that of friends, hm?” 

The double entendre makes you scoff as he swipes his card, his receipt printing loudly as he makes faces at you. You don’t speak as he takes the receipt and tucks it into his pocket, listening to him sweetly thank the aunties at the exit as he leaves with his cart. He whistles, “so? What’s wrong with you?” 

You don’t reply, simply turning onto your belly and resting your cheek against the heel of your palm. You prop your phone up against the armrest of your couch, making a show of pulling your sweater down enough that it shows the white lace of your bra. 

“Tease.” He chides as he pops the trunk, “come on, tell me. Because you’re gonna piss me off and then we’re both in a mood.” 

“I’m really fine, Gyu. I’m tired, I’m gonna eat some leftovers...maybe watch a movie. It's just one of those days, you know?” You shrug, “it’s not like anything is particularly wrong. I just feel weird, and that’s okay.” 

You’re lying through your teeth, but he doesn’t look all that convince anyway as you hear the timer in your kitchen start going off. You give him a quick smile, “my food’s ready, so I gotta go but I’ll see you on Friday, Gyu. I promise I’m excited to see you.” 

“Well, you’d still need the context of what’s happening on Friday, but sure.” He shrugs, “just...are you sure you’re okay? I can cancel. I’ll work around you, honey, just let me know.” 

You smile inwardly, pushing off the couch and taking your phone with you into the kitchen. You prop it up against your toaster as you reach for a bowl on your tiptoes, “I would say no if I didn’t want to see you, Mingyu.” 

“I know, but—” 

“Mingyu, baby, please.” You set the bowl down, putting your hands on your hips. He’s in his car now, pulling his seatbelt on as he balances you on the steering wheel. He’s pouting, “expect that impromptu visit anyway.” 

“You never follow through with those, so I will not be cleaning my apartment tonight and I will be in my PJs by nine.” You respond, crossing your arms on your chest as you watch him roll his shoulders back – the fabric of his shirt taut against his chest. He catches you staring at him, his ears tinging pink once more as you smile cheekily, “I’ll see you on Friday. Drive safe, okay?” 

“I will. I’ll see you later, baby.” 

The call ends before he can see you process the petname. Your cheeks are hot as you stare at your home screen, a picture of you that Mingyu took at a burger joint after you and your ex-boyfriend broke up. You had a smear of ketchup on your cheek and Mingyu’s fingers pinching the other – he'd taken you out because you had been the one to break things off after yet another jealous fit about you being friends with Mingyu. 

When you think about it, he ended up being right – just six months after the breakup, you’d slept with Mingyu for the first time.  

Jaehyun had always been iffy about Mingyu, but you didn’t understand it then, or ever. The two of you had been dating for six months when he met Mingyu, your friend of two years at that point. They met at your birthday party, and Mingyu had been incredibly sweet – he'd greeted him with a firm handshake, complimented his shirt and watch, and asked what he was drinking. Jaehyun had stiffened slightly, likely at the way Mingyu towered over him; but his face soured when Mingyu greeted you next, the way he always had. 

With that damn cheek kiss. 

His aftershave was particularly minty that night, and it made something in your stomach lurch but you ignored it. Jaehyun was quiet that entire night, even later when you were both in bed together and he was on top of you – he murmured it, effectively killing your buzz and starting a fight. 

“I don’t like that Mingyu guy.” 

Your relationship was no more than two years of weird jealousy afterwards. Jaehyun, however, was worse than you were in the weird terms and conditions of dating these days – he still followed his ex-girlfriends on social media and frequently engaged with their posts (you didn’t care.) He still talked to his most recent ex-girlfriend's mother, who he claimed said that he was like a son to her (again, you didn’t give a shit.) 

It seemed to bother Jaehyun that you did not care what he was doing with his ‘friends’ of the opposite sex. He seemed annoyed that you could frequently hang out with your friends without caring about what he thought – posing in photobooths for pictures with your life-long friends Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Seokmin, getting dinner with your old coworker (and BFF-by-proxy) Hansol Chwe, taking shots with said BFF Boo Seungkwan at your favorite bar to celebrate his birthday... 

Posting pictures of you and Mingyu at a farmer’s market the autumn before the breakup, trying spiked apple cider and pumpkin soup that you ended up bringing home for him to try. 

Jaehyun didn’t like that you had friends he didn’t like. He didnt like that you had male friends period, but you simply did not care and especially not when he went on and on about Mingyu like he had a crush on him. You listened to his jealous rants about Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan and Hansol silently, merely peering up at him through your lashes and sipping whatever drink was closest. However, he really amped it up when he met Mingyu – and went as far as saying he was sure Mingyu wanted to sleep with you. 

Only for you to find out in two weeks time that Mingyu had been across town that same night, breaking up with his girlfriend for saying the exact same thing about you. 

She was so sure you wanted Mingyu. 

And the truth was, you’d never thought about it – ever. You’d met Mingyu in grad school, through Seokmin – and your first memory of one another was at a horrible group interview for an internship that neither of you got. You stayed in touch following the months after graduation, only getting closer as Mingyu moved to your city a year after and needed friends to hang out with. 

You were almost always one of those friends. If you couldn’t make it, he still made it a point to swing by your place and bring you something from wherever it was that he’d gone. Sometimes it was a thick slice of chocolate cake, sometimes it was an entire baked potato that he’d ordered to-go so you’d have something for lunch the next day. Sometimes it was just a handful of butter mints he’d stolen from the register attendant along with a colorful toothpick. 

Mingyu is just like that. Sweet and caring and he is a good man. A Good Man, even, with capital letters and capital claim on your heart. 

You sigh, turning your phone off and leaving it on the counter as you limply serve yourself your dinner. The stew isn’t as filling as it would’ve been had Mingyu made it, but you don’t let your mind linger on him too much as you eat on your couch and watch a YouTube video dissecting Pretty Little Liars. 

Because thinking about Mingyu is bad for your heart. You can’t close your eyes when you do it, either – or his body flashes in your mind, the sounds he makes when he’s got your hands pinned to the mattress, the way he calls you baby between kisses that make your skin feel like it’s on fire. You can’t close your eyes without remembering the smell of his aftershave filling your nostrils, his fingers tugging at your clothes or the way he coos when you beg him to touch you anywhere. 

Or...it’s worse, and you remember how good a boyfriend he would be. How good of a husband he would be – always having a spare change of shoes for you in his trunk for those times you’d go out to dinner or to hang out. Always offering his jacket, always holding your hand when you cross the street, always pulling you close when someone thinks it’s okay to get too comfortable with you. How he smooths a hand over your hair out of nervous habit as you worm through farmer’s markets and malls, how he’s easily thrown you over his shoulder several times when you’re throwing an embarrassing fit at a pub or a bar. 

When he kisses you slowly, in his car that smells like him and you before you both get down. How he thumbs at your earrings when you’re sitting next to him at a restaurant or the movies, and his arm is draped over your shoulders. How he speaks to you softly and listens to you intently – actively interested in everything you have to say and what it means to you. 

How he cares. 

It has to be torture, being involved with Kim Mingyu the way you are. 

But is it torture, at hands so gentle? Lips so soft, words so sweet, a heart so full? 

You don’t think so. 

9:32 PM. 

You’d finished dinner hours ago, and your television was quietly playing some random Spotify playlist. The Kill by Thirty Seconds To Mars is filling your ears as you trill your lips dramatically and scroll on your work laptop, finalizing a presentation while sprawled across your couch.  

Against your better judgment, you’d cleaned your apartment haphazardly and you took a long shower – but like any girl awaiting potential company, you put on yet another sweater and a skirt (that you dug out of the back of your closet; one that you’d caught Mingyu staring at you in ages ago.) Your pajamas laid neatly folded on your pillowcase, and you told yourself you’d get in bed by 9:45. 

It’s unlikely that Mingyu will come by. You checked his location ten minutes ago, and he was at his apartment – likely cuddled up in his bed with all six of his pillows. Mingyu rarely leaves the house after eight on weekdays, anyway...unless he’s seeing you. 

The time barely ticks past 9:33 p.m. when you hear a soft knock at the door – making you jolt up so fast, you feel something pinch in your neck. You still – glimpsing at the time on your laptop before checking your phone for any potentially missed messages. Mingyu usually texts you if he’s actually coming over...so it can’t be him. 

No lights are on in your apartment but your stove one, so it only makes the atmosphere more tense. You stand up quietly and set your laptop down on your coffee table before hearing another knock – louder this time, the clink of metal on glass making you jump. 

“Y/N, open this damn door.”  

Mingyu’s voice on the other side makes all fear in your body dissipate in favor of annoyance, and you make your way over; unlocking the door quickly and huffing as you open it. He’s leaning coolly against the frame, holding a bouquet as usual – but you put your hands on your hips as you look up at him.  

You hate the way your cheeks grow hot at his soft smile. 

“It’s not Friday, Kim Mingyu.”  “I can still bring you flowers, baby.” 

“Blah, blah, blah.” You make a face at him, opening the door further to let him in and turning on your heel – only to feel his arm wrap around your waist and gently pull your back into his chest. He smells like that same aftershave, your skin prickling as you glance up at him. 

“Is that how you greet your guests?”  “You’re hardly a guest, Mingyu. Guests don’t know where my silverware is.” 

“Or that you keep lube in your nightstand.” He whispers, squeezing your hip as you swat at his arm. You scowl at him as he presses a kiss on your forehead, “I told you I was coming.” 

“It’s damn near ten at night.”  “So? I can just stay over.”  “You just wanna fuck me.” 

“Or I miss you, baby.” He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your temple. “I miss you a lot, actually.” 

“Breaking news: Kim Mingyu admits he misses his dearest, smartest, prettiest friend ever. More at eleven.” You snort, letting him turn you around as he smiles. You let him fully wrap his arms around you, your nose filling with that damn aftershave as he smoothly picks you up; your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck as he kicks your door shut with a kiss to your cheek. 

“Kim Mingyu does,” he replies gently, and you feel shy as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek before kissing it again. Once, twice, three times. “I stopped by Chan’s, but he only had these and a few others. You like?” 

You can hardly see the flowers, and Mingyu seems to recognize that as he flicks on your dining room light. Warm yellow rays fill the area, your eyes blinking rapidly to adjust as you glance at the flowers between you. Large white daisies are mere centimeters from your face, and you stop yourself from smiling to raise a brow at him. 

“These are your birth flower.”  “You’re supposed to like everything about me, and that includes my birth flower.” 

You roll your eyes, thumbing at the petals as he presses another kiss to your jaw, “yeah, they’re cute. I like.” 

“Good, because I fucked up and also ordered another one for next week when I’m not going to see you, so you’ll be getting this twice but as delivery. I might get another just to apologize but that’s a quest for Later Mingyu.” He speaks against your cheek, pressing kiss after kiss on the warm skin, “missed you, missed you, missed you.” 

“You’re smothering me!” You whine, feeling him pepper the side of your face with kisses, “Mingyu!” 

“You complain I don’t see you enough, and you complain when I do. You’re never satisfied,” he jokes, carefully setting the flowers down on your dining room table to hold you closer. His hands are gripping your thighs, the material of your skirt straining against them as you press a kiss on the column of his throat, “thank you for the flowers.” 

He shivers, “you always say thank you. Don’t thank me for the bare minimum.” 

“I don’t get you flowers, Mingyu.”  “You should start. I like flowers and being smothered and impromptu visits with at my apartment with my dearest, smartest, prettiest girl, Y/N.” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the fluttering in your belly as you shake your head, “you’re impossible, Kim Mingyu.” 

“Yeah, well...you love me anyway.”  “That’s an incredible assumption.”  “Shut up.” 

“Make me.” You scoff, limply shoving his shoulder. He sucks his teeth, kicking his shoes off and clearly choosing to ignore your bait as he tightens his hold on your thighs, “what are you doing here, Mingyu? You’re not making dinner, and you clearly don’t have a plan in mind...so what do you want?” 

He raises a brow, “I want to see you. Ask about your day. Also, steal some of those almonds you have hidden in your nightstand, next to your lube.” 

“You just want me for what I can provide.”  “I want you for lots of things and lots of reasons, but what can you provide that I won’t willingly give you, anyway?” 

You can smell the mint on his breath, like he’d brushed his teeth before getting to your apartment. Your eyes trail him silently, taking in the soft fabric of his casual t-shirt against the inside of your knees. Your skirt is starting to ride up, snug against your midthighs as you click your tongue in defeat. 

“Exactly.” He says pointedly, squeezing your thigh as he flicks the dining room light off again, making you tighten your grip around him as he moves to turn on the lamp in your living room. He looks over your head at the television with an amused look, “are you sure you’re not sad or something? What’s with the ambiance?” 

“You insist something is wrong with me, but I promise you,” you lamely hit the side of your closed fist to his chest, “I am fine.” 

He gives you a knowing look in the moody lighting, before leaning down slightly. He glances at your lips, silently begging for a kiss only for you to roll your eyes and do the same. He smiles shamelessly, kissing you gently before looking around once more. 

“It’s so dark in here.”  “I was just finishing stuff for work.” 

“What have I told you about working off the clock? Stop working for free, they pay you shit as it is.” He squeezes your thighs for emphasis, and you suck in a quick breath involuntarily. You scrunch your nose as he grins, before smacking his shoulder gently. 

“You’re the last person who can tell me that, you’re a workaholic. I see you twice a damn month because you’re always holed up in that office.” You shove a finger in his chest, only for him to press another kiss to your lips as you pout, “Mingyu!” 

“You are so annoying, baby.” He murmurs, nipping at your lips like he might die if he doesn’t. “You can’t even appreciate that I took time out of my very busy schedule to come see you. And let’s not forget you love my job when it means you get to see me in a suit.” 

“I’m going to ignore that for the sake of my sanity. What is so important about having dinner and jerking off for an hour that you think you’re doing me a favor?” 

“I do not jerk off for an hour.” He scoffs, "I merely think about you for forty minutes and then I—” 

“Enough. The point is that you do it. Like a loser. You’ll get carpal tunnel, you know.” You say with a sniff, your lips twitching as he laughs. He makes his way to your couch, sitting on the chaise at the end of it. He leans back into the cushions, smoothly adjusting you on his lap as he stuffs a throw pillow under his head to look at you. “Tell me why you’re here, Mingyu.” 

“If you need a reason, it’s that I genuinely missed you. If that wasn’t already obvious.” He speaks sincerely, raking his fingers gently through your hair and earning a shiver. He tugs at it lightly, smirking as you let out a quipped whine before smacking his hip, “I just wanted to see you.” 

“You’re holding me hostage against you, Mingyu.”  “Because you’ll sit a mile away unless I do. It’s like you avoid me.” 

“I don’t avoid you, idiot. You just radiate so much heat that it makes me wanna die, I hate sweating.” You remind him, lowering yourself so you’re chest-to-chest with him, but propping yourself on your elbows to still hover over him. He plucks at the hem of your sweater, dipping his fingertips beneath the fabric; cool against your hip as he tilts his head, “that is true.” 

“I know.”  “Can you hurry up and say you missed me, too? I’m starting to feel a disconnect.” 

You purse your lips as you hold back your laughter, his pouted lips making you cover your mouth as you swallow your cackle. 

“I did, I missed you.” You admit wholeheartedly, shrugging your shoulders as he tugs at the necklace he gave you, “of course I missed my Mingyu.” 

“Not Park Mingyu from finance, right?” He sulks, tucking his chin to his chest as you chuckle, pinching his cheek between your knuckles carefully. 

“Not Park Mingyu from finance, no. Don’t you know? I’d be bored in two days.” 

“Exactly,” he huffs, wrapping his fingers gingerly around your throat, “can I stay? Or do you want me to leave?” 

“It’s always nice when you stay over. However, you’re late for dinner and lack of punctuality does knock ten points off for Kim Mingyu. Still in first place, but you’re pushing it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he nods, squeezing the sides of your neck gently before his lips plant a soft kiss on your forehead, “should we go to your room?” 

“That’s incredibly suggestive, Mr. Kim.”  “It’s only suggestive if you make it suggestive, baby.”  “You calling me baby only cements my point.” 

“Okay, maybe. But you could have some mercy on me.” He mumbles, pressing another kiss to your nose. You raise a brow, “are you sure you’re not the one who has a problem? You’ve been in my face since you got here, I’m literally on top of you. The world won’t end if you’re not touching me, you know.” 

“I’m just used to having you close.” He shrugs, “I missed you.” 

“Mingyu, you’ve said that so much that the words don’t even sound real anymore. You’ve been here for ten minutes and you’ve said it six times.” 

“So? Is there a problem?” He mumbles against your lips, your breath hitching as he bridges the gap. His hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into the fabric of your skirt as he sits up carefully. Your hands palm at his chest as he pulls you impossibly closer, your skin littering with goosebumps as he slides his hands down your thighs. Your own shoot out to grab his wrists, pulling his hands away and pinning them to the couch before pulling away with a soft pant. He tries to kiss your jaw, his lips brushing your skin as you crane your neck away. 

“What on Earth has gotten into you? Did you finally give into those stupid honey packs that Soonyoung was talking about the last time we all hung out?” 

He scoffs, “absolutely not. You know I like this skirt, don’t play coy.” 

You snort, dropping his hands to cross your arms on your chest. His fingers trace tight circles into your left knee, before he glances at your sweater with an amused look. He leans back on one hand, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he raises a brow. 

“You knew I was coming.”  “No, I didn’t.”  “Then you were hoping I would, baby.” 

“Shut up. You’re supposed to be at home, and I should be in my bed right now.” You mutter, tonguing your cheek as you see your laptop turn off due to inactivity out of the corner of your eye. You glance back at him, his eyes trailing the slope of your neck as you clear your throat and run a hand through your hair, “how was your day?” 

“Funny you should ask. Kim Mingyu has had his first official bad day at the office.” He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line that makes you bite back a laugh. “People are entitled, and I usually get through it pretty well, but today was just off the damn charts. I was late to work this morning, and I had to push back a presentation because I fucking lost my thumb drive because I left it at home. An intern tried to tell me my numbers were wrong, when I checked the math not once, but three separate times. We got into a nasty argument, also something new for me.” 

He shrugs, “I sent her home early and I left an hour after lunch. Bought groceries, made dinner...life goes on but today was actually such shit. So...it’s nice to see you.” 

“I think you forgot ‘tried to flirt with Y/N’ somewhere in there. I think during the whole ‘brought groceries’ part.” You let your cheeks warm as you tilt your head at him, only to earn a devilish smile paired with a one-armed shrug as he taps your knee with his knuckle. 

“I didn’t try to do anything.” He leans back on his elbow, sucking his teeth as you raise a brow at him, “I was merely stating facts. I’m nice to you, and you’re a pillow princess. One plus one has always been two, baby.” 

“You are nice to me, that’s true. But you’re the one—”  “A lady like yourself mustn’t get her hands dirty for pleasure. That’s what I’m here for.” 

His eyes are pointed, and you conjure an annoyed look as you poke a finger into his side. He squeals, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down on top of him, “stop that. Tell me about your day.” 

“Nothing happened.” You shrug, pushing yourself up. Your hands are on either side of his head as you stick your tongue out at him, only for him to do the same and touch the tip of yours with his. You scrunch your nose as he snorts, before calling your bluff. 

“You’re lying.”  “Hm...I broke my favorite pair of earrings. I tripped going up the stairs when I came back from getting lunch at that bistro we like in downtown. Park Mingyu from Finance asked me to dinner. Nothing insane.” 

It’s not a lie. 

But it’s been a few weeks since it happened. It was a rare day in the office for you, and you’d been in and out of meetings all mornings – but he caught you just as you got in the elevator to meet Soonyoung for lunch. 

Park Mingyu wasn’t bad looking, and he was nice enough. He just...worked in finance, of all things, and had that same monotonous voice most finance men do. He didn’t slouch, but his tie was almost always haphazardly thrown on and you’d fixed it for him one time – but you figured one time was enough to get him hooked. 

Kim Mingyu is looking up at you through his lashes, his hands seemingly now lost on what to do as he pulls them off your waist. His eyes are darting all over your face – likely looking for a hint at you kidding. A quirk of your lip, a twitch of your brow, something – but the silence between you only gets thicker as his jaw grows slightly tense. 

“...did you give him an answer?”  “No. I said I’d think about it.” 

Mingyu scoffs. 

He actually scoffs, like how dare you have the audacity to tell someone else you’d think about giving them a positive answer to their dinner invitation? How dare you, when you know you’d likely not like your food? And then it’s awkward for weeks, before you get a paragraph to your work number about how Park Mingyu is such a nice guy – from Park Mingyu himself. 

The man beneath you runs a hand through his hair, and you sit up to allow him to do the same. He does, unzipping his sweater and shrugging it off before he tosses it over the side of your couch. 

You resist the urge to run your hands up his bare arms, cursing the way his shirt fits against his chest so snugly. 

“When did he ask you? During lunch? Did you go to the office today?”  “Two weeks ago.” 

You shift slightly in his lap, your cheeks hot as he stares at you. There’s a mix of emotions in his gaze – confusion, amusement...a bit of anger, you want to think. 

A bit of jealousy. 

“And you’re telling me this now?”  “I didn’t think I had to tell you. We’re not...dating.” 

The word comes out choked. You feel it; he hears it, and your legs tighten subconsciously around his thighs. He glances down at them, his eyes catching a faded bite on your inner thigh from two weeks ago; his thumb pushing the hem of your skirt up high enough to make it visible to your eyes, should you look down. 

“Are you gonna say yes?” His voice is level, but he’s not looking at you. In the low light, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way he tongues his cheek before you feel his fingers tap your thigh, “are you?” 

Your throat feels dry as you steal a glimpse of the flowers on your dining table. 

“Y/N.” 

You let out a forced chuckle, “c’mon, you know me, Gyu. He’s in finance. I really would get bored in two days. A few hours, even.” 

He doesn’t seem convinced, “that’s not a no.” 

“What do you want me to say, Mingyu?” You run a hand down the front of your sweater nervously, bunching the fabric in your palm as he leans forward slightly. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, not managing to shake his focus like the action usually would. 

“That you’ll say no.” He says plainly, before scoffing as a smile of disbelief crosses his lips. “In fact, I don’t even know why you’re entertaining the idea of it when we both know you’d never say yes unless something happened between us.” 

For a moment, you dislike Mingyu. Your eyes narrow as you look down at him, tracing his features as he clicks his tongue. 

“What is this ‘us’ you’re referring to?” You speak softly, but clearly – splaying your hands on your knees as you lean into his space. “What do you mean by ‘us,’ Mingyu? What does ‘us’ mean to you?” 

“You and I.”  “What about you and I?” 

His hand leaves your thigh, and he has the gall to roll his eyes as he runs it over his face. 

“You’d never say yes to Park, because you have me. You don’t need anyone else.”  “What makes you think I even need you?” 

“The fact that you melt in my hands the moment I walk through that door.” He’s in your face, his breath wafting against your lips as he maintains eye contact. “You forget the world exists when I’m with you, and it’s the only time I’ve ever seen you relax. You love having me around, and you love me. You don’t have to say it for me to know.” 

You want to pretend that he can’t feel the way you freeze on top of him. His eyes widen slightly as you swallow carefully, “love...is a stretch, Kim.” 

“We both know it’s not.”  “You’re insane.” 

“Then what does that make you, hm?” His hands are back on you, massaging the tension in your thighs that only makes your back rigid. A shiver snakes down your spine as his thumb brushes the cotton of your underwear, “what does that make you, baby?” 

“I hate it when you call me that,” you blurt, and he has an unimpressed look on his face when you double down, “I hate it, Mingyu.” 

“Yet, you pout when I call you Y/N.”  “Well, just call me Y/N anyway.” 

You huff, moving to get up but he holds you in place – his grip firm as he pulls you into him. Your chest hits his as you avoid his gaze, your arms stiff between your bodies as you give up on getting off him. 

“Still wanna tell me nothing’s wrong?” He mumbles, his eyes soft as he wraps his arms around your waist. You don’t reply, tonguing your cheek as you feel the stupid burn in your throat as you focus your line of sight on the flowers he put on the table. 

Cute. Soft. Delicate. 

An extension of him. 

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as you speak quietly, “what are we doing?”  

He sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder, “I don’t know. I thought I’d have an answer by now.” 

“You don’t know,” you repeat, “because you didn’t want to ask me or because you thought I’d ask first?” 

“Both.”  “Coward.” 

The word is bitter as it leaves your mouth, but you can’t move. You don’t want to move – the fear of him slipping through your fingers overpowering as your hands grip his shoulders like he’s going to disappear. He leans into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his lips brush against your skin as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck, the smell of his shampoo making you melt into his embrace. 

“Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is muffled against your neck, “please. Please.” 

“I don’t know if you are, Mingyu.” You can’t recognize the sound of your own voice, thick and uncertain. His grip on you tightens, and you feel a shaky breath against your neck as you pull back, trying to meet his eyes. He stares at the necklace around the base of your throat, the seashell-shaped locket glinting in the light.  

“I can be. I want to be.” He’s barely speaking above a whisper as his fingertip taps the locket, hooking around the chain and giving a careful tug. “Do you know why I gave this to you?” 

You glance down at it, “because you were in Bali and it was on sale?” 

He snorts, the air around the two of you settling evenly on your shoulders, “no. Well, I was in Bali, but no it wasn’t on sale and that’s not why I got it.” 

“All I’m getting is that you went to Bali without me.” 

“Yeah, well. I couldn’t be around you in all those pretty dresses you wear when it’s hot out.” He sighs, “seashells are a symbol of love.” 

“Doesn’t mean you’re in love with me.” 

He shrugs slightly, popping the shell open to reveal it empty, “it’s said that seashells are associated with Aphrodite, the goddess of love. That they represent the warmth and care and security of love, because they protect the pearl that grows inside that shell.”  

He clears his throat, closing the locket with a click.  

“The point of the locket was to put a picture of us in there, someday. It’s been six months since I gave this to you, and I think about it everyday.” He ducks his head like he’s afraid of the truth spilling from his mouth, but he can’t stop talking. “Sometimes, I think you were made for me, as stupid as that might sound. Like Eve was made for Adam, from his rib, or something like that.” 

You can feel your eyes burning as you watch him nibble on his lip, his hands restless as he moves them from around you to the hem of your skirt before gripping the cushion beneath you both. 

“I don’t know much about falling in love,” he admits, “but...I know that you saved all the flowers I gave you, bits of them, even before we started doing whatever we’re doing. A part of me wants to believe that you saved them because you wanted to keep me around, even if it was just the flowers I gave you...because I’ve kept all the receipts from Chan’s shop when I’ve bought them. I always liked giving you flowers because you like them, but after the first time we kissed...it felt romantic and I just wanted to make your life even just a little brighter and, ugh, I don’t know. Tell me I’m ruining this and I’ll shut up.” 

You blink at him silently, shaking your head before sliding your hands down his arms, “have I told you that you talk a lot?” 

“Many times.”  “Have I ever told you to stop?” 

You raise a brow as you find his hand, slotting your fingers with his and curling them around his palm. His rings dig into your skin but you don’t care, “continue, Mr. Kim.” 

“I hate when you call me that.”  “I don’t care.” 

“I know,” he rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink as you press your lips to them gingerly, “I’m not...it’s hard for me to make time for people. You’ve seen it, you know it’s true because I’ve only been able to get you in every couple weeks and trust me, it’s fucking torture. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder but I truly cannot fathom ever wanting to be away from you. It makes my chest hurt when I wake up after seeing you and I have to leave.” 

“You don’t have to.” You shrug, “leave, I mean. You can stay. Forever, if you wanted to.” 

His chuckle is almost humorless, “I’d never get anything done.” 

You nod silently, tracing circles into the back of his hand with your thumb before you glance up at him. You let go of his hand to cradle his cheek carefully, watching the way he leans into your touch. His arm wraps around your waist again, pulling you down with him as he lays back against the cushions once more. 

“So...I can be yours. If you want me to be. If you’ll have me, rather.”  

You don’t respond, chewing on your cheek while pinching his between your knuckles. A silence blankets over you both, even as he brushes a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. You scrunch it, before resting your head on his chest with a click of your tongue, feeling his hand push the hem of your shirt up – fingers drumming against the warm skin of your hip. 

“Earlier, you said I needed context for Friday. What’s that about?” 

“My parents are in town.” He blurts, and your eyes widen as you jerk away from him, “I wanted you to meet them.” 

You scan his face, your lips parting as you sit up. Your knees dig into his hips as you run a hand through your hair, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. 

“Surely they don’t know we’re in this entanglement.”  “...They think we’re together.” 

“Mingyu!” You choke on his name, earning a wince as you give his shoulder a slight shove. He pouts, grabbing your wrists and pulling you back on top of him, “why would you tell them that?! Why do they even know about me?!” 

“Because I love you.” His voice makes you still, his eyes serious as he bores them into you. A wavering uncertainty is laced in them, mixed with that same pure adoration that he always held in even a wayward glance your way. Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into your palm before he forces them open and interlaces your fingers. His thumbs trace circles on the back of your hands, nervously nibbling on his lip before he clears his throat. 

“I love you, and I’m a coward but I cannot imagine being without you. It makes my stomach hurt to think about it, it makes me nauseous when I think about someone else having you the way I do. Someone else bringing you flowers and making you dinner and kissing you stupid when they don’t deserve you to begin with is an atrocious thing to think about. I love you, and I want to be your emergency contact. I want to make you dinner and rub your feet and I want to put a shiny ring on your finger. I want to listen to you sing in the shower, I want you to tell me it’s not a duet when I join in and I want to make good on any and every promise I ever let fall into you. I love you, and I want you, only. For the rest of our lives.” 

Your nose burns as tears prick at your eyes, and you tear your hands from his to dig the heels of your palms into your eyes – coating them in said hot tears. Your voice is thick, “God, you suck.” 

“I just put my heart on a platter for you.”  “That’s exactly why you suck, because now I can’t tell Park Mingyu I’ll have dinner with him.” 

Your joke is ill received as he scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest as you wipe at your face haphazardly before leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your hands cradle his face gently, thumbs rubbing his cheeks back and forth as he sulks, “I love you, Mingyu.” 

“Kim Mingyu.”  “I love you, Kim Mingyu.” 

He lets you kiss him, uncrossing his arms and pulling you close. His fingers dip beneath your sweater, squeezing your hips as he teases his tongue into your mouth – minty and gentle as your hands move to tug at his shirt. He stops you by abruptly sitting up, cupping your ass as he stands from the couch. Your legs wrap around his waist as his lips trail your jaw, nipping at your neck as he takes you to your bedroom, nudging the door closed with his foot. 

“Wanna prove it?”  

“Not a pillow princess, my ass.” Mingyu’s arm is tight around your waist, his hand holding your phone as your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Pretty girl gave up a minute in.” 

“I’m just used to a...certain lifestyle,” you whimper into his neck, before hearing the unmistakeable sound of a call dialing. You look over your shoulder wearily, watching Mingyu put the call on speaker. It picks up as he holds it to your face, pulling your head back gently by your hair, “tell him you’re having dinner with your in-laws.” 

“Hello?” 

“H-Hey, sorry for c-calling so late,” you stutter, your eyes squeezing shut as Mingyu’s hips rock up into you slowly. “A-are you busy?” 

“Never too busy for you. Are you alright? You sound...choppy.” 

Mingyu gives a hard thrust then, a whine tearing from your throat as you attempt to cough, “sorry, I’m g-good! I just w-wanted to let you know that I c-can't have dinner.” 

“Oh...can I ask why? I mean, I’ve been pretty nice to you for as long as I’ve known you. Could warrant a date night.” 

“She’s having dinner with her in-laws, bud. Tell him, baby.” Mingyu speaks clearly, an embarrassed moan falling from your lips as his grip on your waist tightens, “tell him.” 

“I’m having d-dinner with m-my in-laws...” You pant out, your lips brushing his neck as your hand blindly reached around to hang up on the Finance Guy rambling about how you led him on. Mingyu tosses your phone to the side as his hand snakes between you to cup one of your breasts in his hand, “you might have to quit.” 

You nod breathlessly as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, “they pay me shit anyway.” 

“New position at my firm opened up.”  “God, shut up and fuck me.” 

He chuckles, flipping you onto your back smoothly and pressing a kiss to the side of your face. 

“Pillow. Princess.” 

“THREE YEARS IS A LONG TIME WITH NO RING, MINGYU.” 

Mrs. Kim’s eyes are pointed as her son tongues his cheek, and you bite back your smile as you tip your wine glass towards your lips. 

He had mentioned they’d say something along these lines – of course, he only mentioned more details of the ‘relationship’ they knew on the car ride there. Everything in the storyline was essentially the same, if you ignored that Mingyu admitted he’d fallen head over heels in love with you after the first time you slept together and the two of you had only been officially in a relationship for the last thirty-six hours.  

“Y/N just started a new job, Mom. It wouldn’t be wise to...take that step in this juncture of her career.” He’s spitballing, and his sister nearly spits her wine out across the table as Mr. Kim snorts. “It’s true! Babe, tell them!” 

You fail at holding in your laughter, your shoulders shaking as you nod, “I did just get a new job. But I agree, three years is a long time without a ring.” 

“Babe.”  “I’m just saying, you could put some pep in your step.” 

He sulks in his chair, barely sinking down two inches as everyone at the table bursts into fits of giggling, “I’m trying to take your life into consideration, too!” 

“Time is money, Mingyu.” You say, pinching his cheek between your knuckles. You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek – leaving a stamp of your lipstick on the skin as the waiter returns with the check. Mrs. Kim smiles as you reach for it instinctively, the grin only growing wider as Mingyu snatches it out of your hand and shoves his card inside the booklet before you can even protest. 

“At least tell me he’s taking good care of you.” Mrs. Kim’s voice is soft as you all step out of the restaurant, and you feel your cheeks heat in the cool November air as you nod. 

“Mingyu is a good man,” you start, patting his arm. He beams with pride, before sticking his tongue out at his sister that makes a gagging face. You snicker, squeezing his bicep gently, “if it were up to him, I wouldn’t lift a finger.” 

“But it’s not.” He sighs dramatically, “she lets me make dinner and that’s it.” 

“Let is the wrong word. He barges into my apartment with groceries and I feel bad for the guy,” you feign a pout, earning a scoff from your boyfriend as his parents share a warm look, “but...I love him. What can I do, say no to a nice steak and a foot massage?” 

“Yes.” Minseo pipes up, before Mingyu scowls. You snort, checking the time on your watch before his parents lean in to hug him good night. You try to stand to the side, but his sister pulls you into the familial embrace.  

“We’ll catch up with you both in two weeks. Mingyu, get the girl a ring!” Mr. Kim gives your shoulder a soft pat, and Mrs. Kim slips something into Mingyu’s pocket. She tries to be discreet, but your eyes dart to her hand as she waves goodbye. You do the same, your face hot at the idea of marrying into such a loving family. 

Mingyu slides his hand in his pocket as you both walk to his car, his eyes widening as he pulls it back out. Two rings glimmer in the moonlight, ones you’d complimented on his mother’s hand at the beginning of dinner. 

“Little soon for marriage, huh?” He thumbs at the diamonds, and you chew on your lip as you look at them. Your eyes flicker to his, a sparkle of excitement as you see him already looking at you. You clear your throat, holding your left hand up, “well...we can just see if they fit.” 

“And if they do?”  “Then I guess we’re engaged, oh boyfriend of three-years.”  “I was nervous!” 

Your laughter rings out in the nearly empty parking lot, “well, I love you, anyway. Three years or two days, you said forever and that you’d make good on that.” 

“I did say that.” His hands are gentle against yours, trembling slightly as he slides both rings on. They fit snugly at the base of your finger, and you wiggle them with a little smile on your face. 

“We can just be ‘engaged’ for like, two years. No one suspects anything then, wedding planning takes ages.”  “Or we can get married in six months. I have contacts everywhere and that’s when you’ll have enough PTO accrued for a honeymoon.” 

“You’re crazy.” You scoff, “crazy and calculated, Kim Mingyu.” 

“Crazy in love with you, but sure.” He rolls his eyes, opening the passenger door for you. “Mrs. Kim Y/N, in six months. Pencil me in, babe.” 

“In your dreams.” 

Kim Mingyu is the love of your life. 

Sweet, thoughtful, and delicate. Fragile, even: in ego, in sex, in love. 

You know he’s made for you. Like Adam was made for Eve. He still shows up with a bouquet every week, but your kitchen is now shared and nicely stocked with your favorite bottles of wine. 

Kim Mingyu is the petals of every flower in all the bouquets he’s ever given you. Velvety soft, perfectly cared for and beautiful. 

And just as he is all those things – he is your Achilles’ heel. You can never say no to Kim Mingyu, but you can finally admit that he is something more to you..perhaps, everything.  

Friend, lover, soulmate – all in one. A BOGO deal, you’d say, and he’d argue he’s at least a buy two, get one. 

But, no matter what – Mingyu knows exactly who he is in your life, and you in his. Glued together at the hip, working together (though you get to boss him around and he never thought he’d be into that, a thought penciled in for much, much later when you’re both working ‘overtime’ — read: his head between your thighs at your desk with your office door locked.) 

Friends, lovers, soulmates – married (six months in, just like he’d said) and in love, two idiots held safely in the other’s ribcage. 

Made for one another, by one another. 

You lean against the railing and watch as Mingyu swims toward the boarding ladder of his yacht, the thick ropes of muscle in his back glistening in the dying sunlight and flexing with each pull of the water. He takes his time, a soft smile on his lips as he enjoys his last moments in the sea. You left him down there half an hour ago in favor of the sun deck, where you've been anxiously trying to figure out how much your birthday is costing him.

There’s the staff he has to pay to man the boat. The endless food and drinks said staff kept offering you earlier as you laid out in the sun, insisting you were fine. The white gold Bulgari necklace he presented you with upon boarding (and insisted you continue to wear in the water despite your fear of losing it because he can “just get you another one”). The yacht itself.

You aren't by any means poor, but you are so far out of this tax bracket, you can't even tell if estimating that all of this cost millions of dollars is a wild exaggeration or a cute guess that would make the man you're dating giggle. It makes your stomach twist.

Mingyu disappears behind the boat as he finally reaches the boarding ladder and you sigh, pushing yourself away from the railing and plopping back down on one of the lounge chairs miserably. You only started dating two months ago, and you knew he was considerably rich, but this is the first seriously extravagant display of his wealth you're experiencing. It's making you queasy.

You grew up knowing that on the rare times your family was at a restaurant, you weren't allowed to order a drink aside from water and that your meal would come from the appetizer section of the menu. “We have that at home” or “I can make that myself” were mantras of your mother's. The trash bag full of your older cousin's hand-me-downs was your version of the mall. Your friends all balked at the idea that you didn't have an allowance, a fact that kept you excluded from several social events as a teenager.

But you do incredibly well for yourself now. You graduated from school debt-free thanks to your scholarships and part-time jobs. And after a decade of experience, you're finally at a company that pays you well enough to have paid off your parents’ mortgage, bought yourself a new car, and most importantly, keeps all your savings accounts stuffed full. You considered yourself very well off. 

Until you met Kim Mingyu.

There was no way of knowing the stranger hitting on you in the ridiculously long line of the cafe by work came from old money. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt on a Tuesday morning for god's sake. In fact, when you agreed to a date with him, your dumb ass had the audacity to worry if he was jobless, maybe perusing the business district for a wealthy girlfriend to mooch off of.

You laugh humorlessly at the idea now. It's painfully clear who's mooching off of who in this relationship, and you've just barely come to that conclusion now. On your birthday. In the middle of the ocean.

“Hey, pretty.”

You crane your neck up to see Mingyu approaching your lounge chair, his hands in two fists around the towel draped over his shoulders—the towel that seemingly did nothing since he still has drops of water running down his golden brown skin, squeezing in between every line, curve, and corner. 

He bends down to plant a kiss on your lips, drops of water falling onto you as he does but you don’t mind. You can tell from the peck that it's meant to be a quick greeting, but he pauses just after his lips meet yours, and he lingers a little longer and kisses a little slower. His mouth opens against yours—tongue slides against yours—and his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, still cold from the water. It feels like he's kissing you after having missed you for weeks.

“Hello to you too,” you mutter, a little dazed when he finally pulls away and grins boyishly. “How was your swim?”

“Oh, riveting,” he says dryly. “I love being abandoned by my girlfriend in the middle of the ocean.”

“Well, that's dramatic,” you scoff as he takes a seat on the lounge chair next to you. He situates himself on the edge so that he's still as close to you as possible, and he grabs your hand before leaning his elbows on his knees. “You seemed to be having a lot of fun.”

You actually wouldn't know. You were kind of dissociating as you watched him swim around. It was hard to be surrounded by this kind of extravagance and not feel lost.

“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully, maintaining intimidatingly stable eye contact as he studies you. “Are you okay? You seem a little… I don't know. Tired, maybe? Bored?”

You shake your head quickly, a little panicked that Mingyu has the idea he spent all this money on you just for you to be bored. “No! No, that's not it. I am definitely not bored, baby. I'm having fun!”

He stares at you blankly like he knows that's not true. It's been such a short amount of time dating, but his read on you is hardly ever wrong. Mingyu doesn't say anything, obviously waiting for you to explain what it is as opposed to what it isn't.

You sigh. “I'm just… this is… a lot,” you admit. His eyebrows twitch into the tiniest of frowns and you rush to continue to avoid a miscommunication. “I love it! And I'm having fun! I'm just surprised is all. Like, I obviously knew you had money, but… I didn't know you had yacht money. Or Bulgari necklace money. Tiny welcome chocolates with 14K gold flakes money.”

He snorts, shaking his head at that. “Okay. I do have money for all that, yes. Does that… make you uncomfortable…?” he asks. 

To his credit, he passes as levelheaded, but you've gotten good at reading him yourself, and you see the way his eyes narrow a little like he's struggling to understand something. The way his lips turn down in the corners and his tongue pokes at his cheek anxiously.

“I'm just not used to someone spending like this on me,” you say instead of directly answering the question. You don't know what you are. “I could work until I'm 100 years old and never be able to afford to buy you these kinds of gifts. I—”

“I don't expect these kinds of gifts. I don't expect any gifts.”

“Sure, but—”

“Baby,” he starts, suddenly standing. 

He forces you to scooch over on your own chaise so that he can lay next to you, and you oblige even though there's really nowhere for you to go. The two of you barely fit, but after he wraps an arm around you and pulls you tight to his chest, you're comfortable knowing you won't fall off the edge. 

“I did this because I want you to feel special on your birthday, okay?” he assures you, the worry on his face dissipating immediately when he realizes what the issue is. “I never expect anything back when I spend money on you.” He pauses to think before adding: “Except maybe a kiss or two.”

You roll your eyes but can't stop the smile that grows on your face.

“I don't need gifts. I can buy myself anything I want. The only thing in the world that I want—actually, desperately need—that I can't buy is you and your time and your attention and your l—” He stops to clear his throat, and your heart skips a beat. Neither of you have said I love you, and you want to believe love was the word he wanted to say next. Because it's true. He has your love. You just haven't found the courage to say it. “You being around is more than enough, okay? Besides, I plan to have you around for a long time. You should probably get used to spending my money haphazardly.”

“Mingyu!” you slap his abs, resting your hand there and smiling at the way his muscles feel under you. 

“What?” he laughs, shrugging. “I'm serious. Let's not dwell on what we can and can't give each other. What's mine is yours.” He rubs your arm comfortingly and plants a kiss against the crown of your head. “This is all I want. I don't need anything else.”

You lift your head off Mingyu's chest and look him in the eye. He raises his eyebrows a little at the abrupt movement, but it's still plain to see he looks happy, calm, relaxed. Everything a man in love would look like, and you see that he's being sincere with you. 

“I'm sorry,” you sigh, making him frown. “I just let my insecurities get the best of me. I'm so grateful for all this, I really am. But I hope you know that I don't need any of this either. I agreed to go out with you fully thinking you were an unemployed loser looking for a sugar mama.” Mingyu huffs out a laugh of disbelief. “Your money is the least interesting thing about you.”

“Wow, an unemployed loser, huh?” he repeats, still laughing. “Was it the flip flops?”

“I mean… yeah?”

He barks out his laughter then and it's contagious, making you grin. When it subsides into a happy sigh, you decide it's a sound you'd like to hear forever. You want to stop wasting time.

“Mingyu, I love you,” you say quietly.

His smile falls right off his face and his eyes widen. You'd be worried if his arms didn't press you even tighter to his still wet body. After several moments of silence, you're about to reassure him he doesn't have to say anything back, but before you can, his hands are circling around your arms and yanking you up the chaise to meet his lips. 

Mingyu kisses you more voraciously than he ever has, lips and tongue moving desperately like he wants to swallow the three words himself. It sends a dull ache straight to your core, and you fight the urge to grind your bikini clad cunt right against his thigh. His large hand comes up to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing it while his fingers sink into your hair. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clinging to them desperately like you might disintegrate if you don't.

“Mingyu,” you sigh as he breaks away and starts trailing kisses down your neck. “Mingyu, I—”

“I love you,” he says, his voice hazy with desire. 

He repeats it over and over again with each press of his lips against your skin. You put enough space between the two of you to stop his flurry of kisses. You look down at him, and you're knocked breathless at the reverence he watches you with. You have absolutely no doubt in the world that Kim Mingyu loves you.

You smile and surge forward to kiss him once, twice, three times before giggling like a kid. “I love you,” you say again. 

He laughs too, his hands coming to your back and rubbing up and down slowly. It's how you realize you're practically on top of him now, the only part of you still on the chaise being one leg. 

Your smile slowly slips off your face and you crawl up his body until you're straddling him on the lounge chair. You both have been patient with one another, not pushing sex before the other was ready, but it feels like a day for firsts. Mingyu must think the same because he sits up, arms wrapping around your middle as he tilts his chin to look up at you with big, shiny eyes.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, bring your other to his face, and without breaking eye contact, you wordlessly roll your hips into his. His next breath is a sharp inhale through his nose as you watch his pupils dilate. You feel your lips curve up into a smile as he begins to harden underneath you, straining against his wet shorts in mere moments. 

“Um, I—are…” he blinks several times as you continue to grind against him, and when he clearly can’t find the words he’s looking for, his hands clamp down on your waist to stop your movement. “Are you—”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“Were you going to ask if I wanted to finally have sex?”

He snorts. “No.” You look at him flatly. “Okay, yes.”

“Still yes then.”

He reaches up to brush your hair away from your face, and he pulls you down by the nape of your neck to kiss you. You're a mess of lips, saliva, and hands—feeling everywhere you can touch while simultaneously keeping away from the one place you need each other. You break away in a gasp when he slips his hand under the back of your bikini and squeezes your ass hard. 

You tilt your head back as he kisses down the middle of your throat, and to your horror, you find an employee coming up the stairs of the sun deck with a platter of champagne.

“Oh shit!” you shriek as you scramble off Mingyu’s lap, settling for awkwardly sitting between his calves at the foot of the chaise. 

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind, but you’ve run out of time to warn him. He must hear the footsteps as the yacht staff member approaches, though, because he quickly crosses his legs and very conspicuously cups his hands over his crotch. If the staff member notices, they’re well-trained to ignore it. 

“The champagne you requested from the swim deck, Mr. Kim,” the young man announces, lowering the platter so that you both can easily take your own flutes. Neither of you waste a moment grabbing one. 

When the employee doesn’t depart, you realize he’s waiting for you both to take a sip and make sure it’s to your liking. You go to toast Mingyu quickly, but he stops you. 

“Wait, wait,” he says, hand on your wrist from where he’s keeping you from toasting him and getting rid of the staff. “Happy birthday. I hope it’s the most amazing one yet, and I can’t wait to spend so many more with you.” He’s almost shy when he smiles and finishes with: “I love you.”

“Oh, Mingyu,” you pout before smiling widely and leaning forward to kiss him, almost completely forgetting about your bystander. “I love you too. Thank you for everything. Cheers.” 

You clink glasses, and you sigh in relief when the employee takes that as his moment to exit. He sets the ice bucket and bottle of champagne down on the table nearest to your chaise before he smiles brightly at you both. 

“Please let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“No!” Mingyu says too loudly and too quickly. You choke on your first sip of champagne. “I mean,” he lowers his voice considerably, “no, Chad. Just… we’re good. Please let the staff know to leave us alone for the rest of the night. Thanks.”

“Of course,” he responds without missing a beat, smiling brightly before making his exit. You watch him disappear down the stairs as you rub your chest, your coughs finally subsiding. 

“Have you fucked girls on your yacht before?”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to take his champagne down the wrong tube. “What?”

“Why does ‘leave me alone for the rest of the night’ seem like normal protocol?” you ask, lips curling into a mischievous smile as you watch him struggle with the question.

“I have not fucked girls on my yacht before,” he denies it petulantly. He clears his throat. “But a ton of people do all kinds of questionable things on boats.” You make a mental note to ask him for stories later. “Yacht staff are all trained to be… discreet. So.”

“So Chad knows we’re fucking tonight.”

Mingyu smirks into his glass, taking several gulps until it’s completely empty. You raise your eyebrows at him. “If he doesn’t, he definitely will in a few minutes.” Your cheeks warm at the implication and he nods at your flute. “Hurry up and finish that. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

You gasp, tears slipping out of your eyes and past your blindfold as you struggle against the ropes Mingyu tied around your wrists. They’re tied to the headboard of the bed in his stateroom, rendering you absolutely helpless as his tongue massages your clit, his hand already two fingers deep inside you and beckoning an orgasm closer. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper, struggling to keep your legs open even though there’s nowhere they could possibly go anyway. Your boyfriend’s grasp on each thigh is pressing them down and open mercilessly, determined to keep you from interrupting his meal. 

“What is it, baby?” he asks, licking quick stripes up your slit between every few words. “Too much for you? We can stop.”

“No!” you shout quickly, whining when you hear his breathy laughter follow. “It’s not funny. I’m… I…” Your words devolve into a mess of moans as he decides he’d rather eat than talk. His fingers work against the spongy spot inside you, his mouth closing over your clit as he starts to lick and suck with more fervor than before. “Oh god. Please!”

“Please what?” he asks against you, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through your cunt. 

You don’t even know what you’re asking for. For the last half hour now, Mingyu has been pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with just his mouth alone. There’s nothing else you could possibly ask for, but still, all you know how to say is “please.”

You gasp, hips bucking as your orgasm shoots through your entire body, causing you to shudder and writhe almost uncontrollably at the overstimulation. You don’t have much space to move, though, with your hands restricted like this. 

“Gyu!” you shriek, shamelessly grinding up and into his mouth. His fingers pump in and out of you quickly, your pussy giving no resistance anymore now that he’s made a mess out of you. “Oh my god.”

“I think you’re ready,” he says, smiling against you. 

More tears escape as you cry in what you think is relief. He told you there would be a lot of foreplay. He warned you that he was big and that he didn’t want to hurt you—that the only way he felt comfortable doing this was once you were thoroughly prepared. You just didn’t realize it meant having his head between your legs for so long, you’d lost feeling in both feet and gone cross-eyed with pleasure. 

Before he leaves his residency, he lowers his chin and stiffens his tongue, shoving it into you as far as it’ll go, his entire face pressed against you. The sensation elongates the orgasm enough that you’re sure it’s started a whole new one as Mingyu licks you clean from the inside out. When he’s done, he kisses your clit before moving around on the bed. 

“Hi,” he whispers, voice suddenly right next to your ear. You struggle to catch your breath as his hands run up your sides. 

“Hi,” you respond pathetically. 

“Don’t cry, darling,” he tells you, voice soft and gravely. You wish you could see how he looked right now. You wish you could know if he looked just as fucked up and fucked out as you felt. If his face matched his voice. “I’m taking good care of you, aren’t I?”

“Too good,” you breathe, not sure you can say more than two words at a time. 

He snickers as his fingers slip under your bikini top, the last piece of clothing you have on before he has you completely naked. He massages your breast under the fabric, thumb running over your nipple several times. He presses his lips against your sternum, his weight resting against you as he does, and you realize he’s catching his breath too. You can feel his heartbeat against your stomach, going almost as fast as you think yours is. He continues kneading your tit like it’s his own personal stress ball for several minutes, leaving kisses across your skin absentmindedly. 

“I think you were made for me,” he mutters after a while.

“I hope you were made for me,” you respond when you think you’ve finally relaxed enough to have coherent thoughts again. “Because what do you mean you own a yacht and want to eat pussy for the better part of an hour? You’re literally my dream man.”

His hand pauses against you as he laughs into your chest, shaking the bed as he does. You smile at the sound. 

“Mingyu?” 

“Mmm.”

“Can you remove my blindfold?” you ask quietly. “I want to see your face.”

He removes his hand from your chest, placing the bikini back where it was as if you aren’t already entirely naked from the waist down. He moves up the bed and his fingers work at the knot he made behind your head, undoing it quickly. You blink a few times as you adjust to the already dimmed light of the room. 

“Hi.”

He looks so blissful. His eyes are half-lidded like he just woke up, and his mouth is curved up into the slightest, laziest, most content smile. He looks down at you like he truly believes his own words—like he truly believes you were made for him. 

Your wrists don’t let you far enough up to kiss him, but he knows exactly what you want and he gives it to you. You taste yourself on him, and the thought that Mingyu loves it enough to go at it for so long makes you impossibly wetter. 

“Are you ready?” he asks when he pulls away to kick off his shorts and shove them somewhere toward the foot of the bed. You look down at what you’re dealing with, and you realize Mingyu definitely knew best when he said you needed to be patient. You nod. 

“Mhm.”

“I’m going to untie you, okay?” he asks gently even though he roughly shoves your top up your chest, your tits bouncing out. He groans, burying his face between them before taking a nipple in his mouth. 

You arch into his body, exhaling softly at the warm feeling. He releases you with a pop and quickly rips the top completely off, throwing it over his shoulder before  caging you in with his legs and crawling up the bed to work on the ropes on your wrist. His dick rests against your stomach as he works, thick and heavy and staring you in the face. Your mouth waters. 

“Hurry, Gyu,” you whisper. He laughs softly. 

“Impatient.”

You bite back a retort because at that moment, the ropes give way and your wrists are freed. Without thinking twice, you have both hands wrapped around Mingyu’s dick immediately, eliciting a gasp from him. You shimmy down on the bed, one hand pulling at his waist. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as he tries to keep his balance at your incessant pulling. 

“I think it’s your turn” is all you say, releasing him once you’re low enough on the bed. His huge fucking cock hangs in front of you—intimidating and scary and glorious. You lean back and prop yourself on your elbows before looking up at him. 

He peers down at you with a confused look on his face. All you do in response is open your mouth wide. His eyes practically bulge out of his head when he realizes what you want him to do. 

“Are you sure?!” he asks in disbelief. “I’m—I—you—”

“Fuck my mouth, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, taking himself in his hold and pumping a few times before gently laying his swollen tip on your tongue. He curses under his breath. 

“Let me know if it becomes too much, okay?” he reminds you. You don’t bother responding as you take more of his length in. “Holy shit. Fuck!”

It doesn’t take more than three thrusts until tears are collecting in the corner of your eyes, but you don’t care. Because you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter than Mingyu on top of you, fucking your mouth with his eyes squeezed shut like he’s begging a god out there to keep him from coming on the spot. You bring one hand up to his balls, massaging gently and the sounds it pulls out of him are downright heavenly. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “Oh my god.”

You’re a mess of precum, drool, and tears, but you remind yourself to enjoy the burn in your shoulders from propping yourself up like this, the ache of Mingyu’s cock abusing the back of your throat, and the sting where his hand has become a fist in your hair because it could last your entire life and you think it would still be over too soon—being able to see how good you can make him feel. 

His thrusts slow to a gradual stop and he takes his cock out of your mouth, sitting back on the heel of his feet as he catches his breath, staring at you like you invented blowjobs just for him. You smile at him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before plopping back down on the bed, your shoulders screaming in relief. 

He situates himself back between your legs, and without breaking eye contact, he lifts one up and over his shoulder. He kisses your calf, then your knee, and then he pushes forward until your thigh is pressed up against your shoulder and you feel his tip at your hole. 

Wordlessly, he pushes in gently, and even with all the orgasms you had, you gasp at the way he stretches you open. He groans, head hanging as he watches himself slowly, slowly, slowly disappear inside you. He breathes evenly and deliberately like his control relies solely on him staying as calm as possible. You don’t quite have the same composure, fists tight around his bedsheets as you whine and whimper underneath him. 

“Shhh,” he breathes, another kiss ghosting the inside of your knee. “You’re doing so well, baby.” You moan at the praise. “Doing so fucking well for me.”

“Gyu,” you gasp when you feel him bottom out. If his hands weren’t planted firmly on either side of your head, you’re sure he would’ve completely collapsed on you as he exhales a heavy breath, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and onto your stomach.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you know he’s sure he won’t come immediately. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay, baby.”

“Good,” he breathes, nodding as he leans forward and pecks your lips. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you.”

“I’m going to move now, okay?” 

You fight to keep from giggling at how endearing he is, even during sex. “Okay.”

His first few thrusts are so shallow, you’re not sure he’s even pulling out at all. The only reason you know he is is that each thrust back in makes the delicious ache in your stomach grow. It isn’t until you slip your leg off Mingyu’s shoulder and lock your ankles together behind him and pull him in closer that he starts to really pick up his pace, increasingly intense until he’s slamming into you with a frenetic energy you feel like you can choke on. 

Being fucked by Mingyu is unlike being fucked by anyone else. It’s in the way he watches you closely, searching for any signs you’re no longer enjoying or in pain. The way he keeps whispering how much he loves you—like saying it for the first time tonight broke a dam wide open and he can no longer keep the three words in. The way he blushes each time you reach up to pull him down and kiss him. The way his body starts to thrash and tremble the closer he gets to his orgasm. It’s the way he fills you up with his cum so thoroughly and completely, you know there’s no way you can ever be anybody else’s but his. It’s in the way he holds you for so long after, you fall asleep in his arms and only wake up when he’s carrying you into the restroom to help you clean up. 

At the end of the night, Mingyu wraps you up in his blankets and himself as the yacht docks at the marina, zero desire to leave even though you’re back at land. 

“Happy birthday,” he whispers one last time.

“Best birthday ever.”

It shows when his friends tease him endlessly about his habit of stumbling over his words, and his only reaction is to roll his eyes at them. It shows when his sister makes him get up at 5AM to queue for a special edition bag, and he only grumbles out a total of three complaints. It shows when his boss gives him a too short of a notice about a weeklong business trip, and all he can do is pack his luggage like it’s a race.

That’s why he desperately wishes it would show now, as he sneaks a glance at you from across the dinner table while Seungcheol holds him by the shoulder—barraging him with things he missed due to said business trip.

Mingyu clinks his glass of soju against Seungcheol’s and downs it before his eyes find you again.

You, dressed in a top with delicate straps tied into even more delicate bows. You, with your hair in that effortless updo that he always liked. You, sipping your drink with your glossy lips in a soft rosy shade that drives him crazy.

Contrary to Seungcheol’s eager ramblings, the only thing Mingyu missed during his trip was you.

You and Mingyu—along with your other friends Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Jihyo—have known each other since your college days. However, things began to change a few months ago when you developed an interest in running—suddenly influenced by numerous tiktok videos. Mingyu had been excited when you first mentioned it in the group chat and deemed himself your new “running partner” since the two of you lived closest to each other.

Since then, your time together slowly extended into the day—turning from a simple morning exercise to getting brunch together afterwards to spending the night at each other’s apartment because “We’re gonna go on a run tomorrow morning anyways. Might as well sleep over to save time.”

On one of those sleepover nights, Mingyu decided he's had enough. Something had shifted since you started spending more time together—charged moments where gazes lingered longer than necessary and quiet nights that encouraged you to share a bigger piece of yourselves with each other.

Although you've been part of the same friend group for years, it was still uncommon for just the two of you to meet frequently like this. Despite everyone’s busy schedules, the group chat managed to stay active and always made time to meet up.

It was normal for Mingyu to see you once a week or so—sometimes in a dirty T-shirt and mismatched socks for movie night at Wonwoo's, sometimes in coordinating outfits with Jihyo for dinner. And sometimes, he’d even play wingman to help you get a cute bartender’s number.

It was, however, not normal to squeeze onto your small couch just so he could wake up to you in the mornings. It wasn’t normal for him to run backwards so he could see the glow in your smile as the early sunlight shined on you. And it definitely wasn’t normal for Mingyu’s heart to race whenever he caught his mind drifting to you at random times in the day.

So when he shows up to your place without his usual bag of running gear and dressed in loose sweats, you give him a questioning look. “Running in sweatpants is definitely new for you.”

“No, it's not that,” he inhales deeply, lingering by the door, “I wanted to tell you something.”

You freeze in your spot, nodding at him to continue.

"I really like you. I want to be more than a friend. I know this will change a lot of things for us but it was driving me crazy not being able to tell you how I feel," he says softly, inching closer to you. His eyes are rounded and full of affection as he takes your hands in his, "I love being with you and spending time with you. You feel it too, right?"

Your eyes well up with tears as your brain catches up with everything you just heard. If you were being honest, your newfound crush on Mingyu had been your biggest worry recently. Mingyu has always been a good friend, but being in close proximity to him and taken care of by him did stir all the butterflies in your stomach. You had spent countless nights staring at your ceiling, trying to make sense of your feelings, and gathering the courage to tell him.

You roll your lips between your teeth, attempting to hide your smile, "Was it because I kept staring at your chest and ass when we run?"

He throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, "Well, I can't lie and say I wasn't doing the same thing."

Your smile spreads wider across your face, "Okay, let's call it even then."

Mingyu tugs your body towards his and wraps you in a firm hug. You lean into him, taking the warmth of his body in as he pats your hair tenderly.

"So are we still going on our run tomorrow or what?," you mumble against his chest.

“You wouldn’t happen to have some of my running clothes lying around, would ya?”

—

As it turns out, you did have an extra set of his clothes by your dresser. He did spend the night. You did go on that run together. And like always, Mingyu did buy you brunch afterwards.

But before he could even celebrate his first 24 hours as your boyfriend, an email from his boss showed up—an emergency request for his presence at a conference being held across the country. He had left your apartment begrudgingly as you kissed him goodbye and promised to wait for his call when he landed.

It has been exactly one week since then.

As soon as he landed back home, he had rushed to the restaurant where you were currently having dinner with the rest of your friends. Much to his disappointment, you had been caught in conversation with Seungkwan and Jihyo when he arrived, allowing Seungcheol to drag Mingyu into the seat between him and Wonwoo.

And that was an hour ago.

So if you ask Mingyu, he’d like to think he’s been patient enough. Patiently waiting to see you again, to have a moment with you, to make up the long seven days without you.

The sudden surge of emotions makes him restless. He slumps lower into his chair and shakes his legs, feeling miffed at the entire situation. There's no way Seungcheol has that much to update him on, right? And why have Seungkwan and Jihyo been hogging your attention all night? The last time he checked, you're his girlfriend, not theirs.

“Kim Mingyu. Lighten up a little," Seungkwan chides, yanking him from his cloud of thoughts.

He scowls at Seungkwan then sighs, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Mingyu sends you a weak smile and mouths a discreet “meet me there” before he pulls away from Seungcheol and heads to the restroom, patting cold water onto his face and neck.

When he steps out, he sees you waiting for him in the corner of the small corridor that leads back out to the dining area, tucking your lip gloss and compact mirror back into your bag.

A smile blooms on your face when you notice him.

“Hi.”

Mingyu manages to rasp out a soft hey back before he presses his full weight into you, face buried in your hair and hands snaked around your waist.

You're surrounded by his body heat and the faint woody notes of cologne. You’ve been giddy all day thinking about seeing him again and the feeling of being in his hold after so long makes your stomach flip.

Mingyu finally pulls away to look at you. “Missed me?”

Your stomach does a second flip. He looks devastating. His hair is tousled against his forehead, eyes bright and glassy, small mole dotting his nose perfectly, and lips pulled into a slight pout.

Your hands tighten against his lower back as you interlock your fingers together and whisper against his lips, “So much.”

Mingyu instantly leans forward to close the distance, slotting his lips against yours. His kiss is filled with so much fervor, as if he couldn’t waste any more time not kissing you.

It takes you a second to react; you’ve only kissed Mingyu a handful of times between the night you confessed to each other and him leaving for his work trip—all of which have been short and sweet.

But this kiss is heavy and passionate, his lips moving over yours with intense focus. You’ve never seen him this worked up before but it’s a new side of him that makes your skin tingle with anticipation.

Once you get out of your initial shock, you kiss him back with equal force, hands moving to roam across the broad stretch of his back muscles. You nibble playfully at his bottom lip before giving it a particular harsh suck. He sighs into your mouth as you soothe your tongue over the seam of his lips.

Mingyu reluctantly pulls away first, “I missed you so bad. So so bad.”

You can feel his rough hands absentmindedly toy with the hem of your top, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Your chest heaves against his as you beam up at him, “I can tell.”

Mingyu swears your eyes twinkled when you smiled at him and he has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. His eyes lazily trace the shape of your lips before coming back to hold your gaze.

“This lip gloss shade is killing me,” he says, tongue darting out to lightly lick at your lips.

Mingyu can only stare as you reach up to thumb away your smudged lipgloss by the corner of his lips and chin. His vision is a little hazy but he manages to focus on your lips. The rosy tint has lost most of its shine and color by now, replaced by a soft kiss-swollen hue (Mingyu has half a mind to boast about him being the cause of it) but it’s still pulling him in with the exact same force it did when he first arrived.

“Baby, please,” he swallows hard, but his voice comes out in a dry whisper, “Last one, I promise.”

He ducks his head to capture your lips in another heated kiss. His hands alternate between your waist and ass, only pausing to knead the plump flesh of your hips once in a while.

You pull away from him, trying to catch your breath. “How was your flight back?”

“You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

He leans in, attempting another kiss but you dodge his lips as your hand comes up to cover them.

Your smirk is playful as you say, “I thought you said that was the last one.”

"I take it back," he muffles into your hand before licking it, causing you to yelp and clutch his shirt.

He cups your face firmly and tilts your head towards him, “You’re so beautiful.” Then a wet kiss on your jaw.

"My pretty girl.” A gentle bite onto the side of your neck.

He trails light kisses down your throat and makes his way to the dip by your collarbone. You can’t help but let out soft moans at the sensation as Mingyu continues to suck slowly at the spot.

His lips travel to the curve of your shoulder, where his fingers start to fiddle with the thin ends of your tie straps.

He pulls at it teasingly before letting out a choked laugh, “How functional is this?”

“It’s cute,” you whine in defense.

You lightly pinch his sides to get his attention before you pull him into a kiss of your own, swiping your tongue against his. Your hands move in between your bodies, one pressed against his chest while the other cups his neck. This time, it’s your turn to suck and lick at it as he groans. You pick a spot right in the middle, just below his adam’s apple and continue to nip lightly.

“Baby,” he warns with low moan.

You hum a distracted response, pressing quick pecks all over his cheeks with a final kiss placed on top of his heart through his shirt.

He slumps against you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. You can hear his breathing slowly move from a pant to a steady rhythm.

You gently card your fingers through his hair and press your nose into his temple. “You okay?”

His sigh turns into a dry laugh, “Babe. Whatever happens, let’s never do long distance. Look at what one week apart does to us.”

“That’s just because you’re clingy. I was fine.”

He shifts to narrow his eyes up at you, “I must've kissed you so good, your memories ended up getting jumbled.”

Your cheeks redden, as you giggle and lightly shove him away. “Whatever you say, loverboy. We should head back now.”

He grins as he follows you back to your table, in a much lighter mood than before. Wonwoo eyes him carefully as he settles back into his seat and nods at Seungcheol to take a look. Mingyu manages to stuff a piece of pork belly into his mouth before Seungcheol knocks his chopsticks out of his hands and grabs his collar to inspect his neck.

“Bro.”

Before Mingyu can even respond, the entire table's attention is drawn by Seungkwan who has his hands around your neck, as he shrieks, "What is that?!"

There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is there? Trash. There is a lot of trash in the sea. You even switched out your plastic straws for one-hundred per cent plant-based, edible rice straws made from rice, tapioca, and cornstarch. They’re designed to be sustainable, turtle-friendly, and technically safe to eat. It was often described as having a neutral, pasta-like texture. They were a popular eco-friendly alternative to plastic, even though some people complained that they got soggy in drinks.

You like to think that you have saved the turtles. Maybe even the ocean.

Unfortunately, that still doesn’t stop people especially at family gatherings from bringing up marriage every chance they get. You were perfectly fine living like this. You run your own cafe. You’ve got a side hustle as a web novel writer and webcomic creator though of course they don’t know that.

Your single life has been nothing but peaceful. In this century, it’s a choice. But that doesn’t matter when your relatives keep asking when it’ll be your turn, especially at someone else’s wedding. God forbid a woman enjoys her life without a partner.

They love to hint, no—insist that you’ll end up lonely, growing old like some miserable hag.

Puh-lease. You’ll never be intimidated by people with no class. What are they going to do? Gossip about you with their equally insecure, trashy little circle?

You don’t care. You’d rather die than get married. At least you won’t end up as some miserable wife stuck with a douchebag husband and his broken ass.

The only thing that kept you alive and sane was none other than your beloved nephew, your very first one. Oh, the things you would do for him. You still remember the first time you held him, just a newborn, tiny in your arms. That was the moment you became an aunt at the age of seventeen.

Now, he’s all grown up, living like a proper young adult. Still, you can’t help but see him as a kid. Not that you mind, considering you once gaslit eight-year-old Sunoo into believing he was six just so he could get freebies at a diner when you first babysat him.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, wiping a glass as you watched your twenty three-years-old nephew clutch his head, face buried against the counter.

“Give my regards to the devil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in exhaustion.

“I will.”

Sunoo groaned again, downing another shot of espresso you had made earlier. That was probably his third cup. You gently took it away from him, earning a frown.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter,” you said, sliding a glass of water toward him instead. “I raised a burnt-out perfectionist who occasionally gets bludgeoned into settling for mediocrity.”

Your nephew stared at you incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if he was even related to you. But in the end, he’d take you over his nosy, borderline-stranger aunties who wanted a full autobiography of his achievements. He still didn’t understand why his mom, your sister had trusted you to raise him all these years, well into adulthood.

“Okay, I’ve experienced academic validation, and I’ve experienced academic downfall, and I highly recommend being born into generational wealth—”

“It’s not about that,” he cut you off. “It’s my superior. He’s… I don’t know. Everything about him is just so cranky.”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as you continued stacking cups. “Is he a bully or something?”

“Not exactly. He’s just… kind of mean. Well—he’s just that good at his job.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“That is the problem,” he confirmed.

He continued, “He’s so good at what he does that it stresses everyone out on the planning team. If something goes wrong, he gets intensely serious about it—like, terrifyingly committed.”

There was a brief silence as you listened to your nephew ramble. This was probably just a moment of weakness. He likely just needed to vent.

“No one likes him,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water. “In fact, I don’t think he likes people at all. He probably hates himself too.”

He sighed again. “I made it through the day without throwing a chair at anyone, but this coffee tastes more bitter than usual.” He clicked his tongue. “Probably because I carried his bitterness all the way here.”

After a moment, you looked up at him. 

“Feeling better now?

“Yeah,” he finally exhaled. 

You’d think his toxic trait was believing another cup of coffee could solve literally anything. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was just being dramatic, but considering this was his second week complaining about his “toxic” workdays, you hoped it was only one insufferable person making him miserable, and not HR tearing him apart. Senior colleagues could be worse. You just hoped he wasn’t being bullied.

You, on the other hand, could drink three cups of coffee and go straight to sleep, one of many things fundamentally wrong with you as a person. In your defense, you buried those bad habits back in university. You’re a changed woman now. At your age, you just wish people would stop asking about your likes and dislikes. It gets old—those endless, generic questions on dates. 

You like money and food. You dislike not having money and being hungry.

Please. Don’t add more stress to your life.

Adulting is hard, but it’s okay. At least you don’t need to prove and explain why a triangle is a triangle anymore.

Nobody is busier than someone who isn’t interested in you. And when you say, “I’ll figure it out,” it usually just means you’ll adapt to whatever new level of hell is coming next. You either juggle five tasks at once or stare at a wall, wondering what scene to write for your next update, there is no in-between.

You know you’re hot, but you’re also aware you’re not a full-time hot person. You’re hot when you want to be, depending on the mood. You choose your own hours, make your own schedule. Honestly, it’s freelance hotness.

Just because you live like this doesn’t mean your life is boring. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of hookups—but they’re rare.

Today, however, is different. You went to your usual bar—Velvet Ruby. Mostly because the owner, Jihoon (as you’ve come to learn), is annoyingly attractive. You’re not even utterly shameless at that, the first time you met him (that time you haven’t yet to know he was the owner), throwing flirts here and there, you were tipsy, okay? Still, he finds it amusing despite himself. You usually prefer someone taller than you, but somehow, he still caught your attention.

Tonight, though, you were determined. You wanted a distraction. A release.

The only problem? You’d been sitting there for almost an hour. You were practically waiting for a main character’s entrance, but it seemed the owner had better things to do. Swirling your glass, you watched the wine move lazily inside it, your fingers brushing through your hair as you leaned your cheek against your palm, and then you noticed him.

Sitting right beside you.

You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze lingered on his side profile. The sharp nose, the way his lips brushed against the rim of his glass as he took a sip of whiskey. His sweater was pushed just enough to reveal his forearms, the fabric stretching slightly. You could tell he was well-built underneath. His veiny hands, steady as he held the glass with ease, a watch sitting perfectly on his wrist.

God.

You really wanted him so bad.

As a matter of fact, you even dressed up for tonight—something chic, something that worked both at your cafe and for this. Chan, one of your employees, kept staring earlier. You didn’t say anything out loud, but you did threaten to cut his pay if he kept slacking off.

You feel sexy today, feel good and confident. There was no way you were wasting this night.

As if sensing your stare, the man suddenly turned toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, not threatening, just… observant. His gaze lingered, taking you in without shame.

Jackpot.

Honestly, you don’t care. You were convinced you could hold your liquor pretty well, but you only lived once. You didn’t look away. Instead, you offered a soft smile, teasing as you leaned your chin on your palm, crossing your legs.

“Do you know what bees make?” you asked casually.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly making sure you were talking to him. There was a pause before he answered, humoring you.

“Honey?”

You smiled wider. “Yes, dear?”

A soft chuckle left your lips, you were definitely tipsy now. He looked amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took another sip, his gaze still on you appreciatively, unhidden.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

Your lips curved in quiet victory.

Got him.

...

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into easy conversation. The small talk here and there, laughter slipping in between. One thing led to another. You have learned that his name is Wonwoo. He mentioned something about work, some company but you barely processed it, too distracted by his deep voice and the way his cologne lingered in the air.

By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had the patience to pretend otherwise. The door barely closed before he pulled you close again, lips finding yours in a kiss that was far from hesitant. His coat was gone in seconds, yours not long after as you were guided back with your breath catching and thoughts slipping.

His touch was warm, firm, leaving a trail that made it harder to think straight. Your head tilted instinctively, giving him more space, more access, your fingers gripping onto him as the moment blurred into something hazy and overwhelming.

A quiet sound escaped you, your mind already spinning, senses dulled except for him.

You stumbled toward the bed, everything felt so messy and impatient. Both of your clothes were scattered somewhere on the floor. It was clear that you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and you never felt so turned on right now. Maybe it’s been a while since you have felt this good.

Straddling him, you leaned down, kissing him again with intense neediness. Wonwoo grunts into the kiss, chuckling softly against your lips at how impatient you are, clumsily pressing on him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, gripping your hips tightly. He grinds up against your core, large hands sliding up your bare back, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulls you flush against his muscular chest. He didn’t forget to lavish your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing your pulse point as he bucks his hips up sharply.

You let out a soft sigh and moan at how intense it feels, catching your breath as your hands come up to grip his soft locks. Your hips instinctively grind on him, rolling your hips down as you feel the thick length of his cock rubbing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of your panties.

A low groan tore from his throat at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening. He slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing the plush globes roughly as he grinds up against you—meeting your slow, sensual movements. “You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” He murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a deep sensual kiss. Drowning in his own needs, he tore your panties away and didn’t hesitate to put the tip of his cock inside your bare cunt.

The sensation itself had left your mouth hanging open, trying to catch yourself at how amazing it feels like. Your grip on him tightened as you slowly sinked yourself down on his dick, mewling at the way he’s stretching you out. “F-fuck—Wonwoo…” you whimper out softly as you started to move your hips.

Wonwoo let out a low guttural moan as your tight walls clenched down around him like vice, gripping his throbbing shaft so deliciously. He literally needed to pause for a moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being fully sheathed inside you before he started to move. “Fuck, baby… so fucking tight.” He murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. You start to roll your hips, working yourself on his thick length. “That’s it—just like that… nice and slow.” Hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and kneading the flesh as he watches your face intently. Taking in every little flicker of emotion and pleasure that crosses your features. 

He growls, feeling your pussy clench and squeeze around his pistoning length. God, even his voice is so damn hot, your mind was too drowned by how sexy he was until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Ride me harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.” Wonwoo leans up to bite at your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your skin as he feels your movements turning more desperate and needy.

You started to bounce on his cock with increasing fervour, your ass smacking against his balls with each downward grind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room, spurring him on to fuck into you even harder and deeper.

Your knees tremble on either side of him, digging the sheet for support. Nails digging further into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the way you’re writhing and mewling so sweetly above him. Your cunt milking his cock for all it’s worth.

And it’s so fucking hot.

Wonwoo slams up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your spasming cunt, throwing his head back with a loud groan rumbling from his chest at his release. You moaned out loud too, mouth hanging as you held him tight. The feeling of his release seems to trigger your own, and you feel your body stiffening beneath him as your climax crashes over you.

With one last shuddering breath, he finally pulled back, taking in your blissed-out expression with a satisfied smirk. He peppered soft kisses across your face, his touch unexpectedly tender after everything that had just happened. You could feel your heartbeat racing, matching his.

“More?” you murmured against his lips, a playful smile tugging at yours.

“Thought so.”

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back against the mattress, earning a small yelp from you followed by breathy laughter as he settled himself between your legs. Your little escapade with him continued into the night. After all, the night was still young.

How to say “I hate you" in a nice way? It’s simple. “You are the Monday of my life.” Seungkwan always bristled whenever you said that, usually while you were asking him to clean the grease. It wasn’t even his turn, which would inevitably lead to him bickering with Chan about whose turn it actually was. At this point, you might as well be your own employee at your own cafe.

But hey, you like to think you’re a good boss.

The older you get, the more you understand why roosters just scream to start the day. Back in college, you used to wake up and sit there, contemplating whether to skip class. Maybe cry a little. Your greatest joy was waking up without the crushing sense of responsibility.

Now? You’ve never felt so good. You were actually… happy.

Even your nephew had asked Chan and Seungkwan why you were in such a good mood today. You were practically glowing.

There was no denying it, that one-night stand with that ridiculously attractive man had put you in an excellent mood. It was a shame you didn’t get his contact, though. When you woke up, tangled in the soft comforter, he was already getting ready to leave. He seemed in a rush. You were far too sore and far too comfortable to chase after him. Too much hassle, you thought.

Like some kind of Cinderella, he disappeared just like that. And honestly? You didn’t think you’d ever experience sex the same way again. Not that you were mad or anything. You hate being mad. It takes you almost two and a half years to calm down. 

So for now, it was just you and your coffee beans, trying to figure out whether today was even necessary. According to the weather, though—it was bright and sunny. You greeted your customers with a warm smile (which you rarely did), and for once, everything felt… light.

Sunoo stared at you with concern as he blended the coffee beans beside you. “Did she win the lottery or something?” he whispered, leaning toward Seungkwan.

“I don’t know, kid,” Seungkwan shrugged, not even looking up as he handled the pre-orders. “She’s having one of her episodes. I’m not getting involved.” He paused, then added dryly, “It’s either her inner peace is sponsored by caffeine… or sarcasm.”

Your nephew just shrugged it off, continuing to help with the brewing. “By the way, remember when I told you I’d be having a meeting at your cafe? It’s going to be tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, packing cookies as you glanced up slightly. “Yeah, I remember. The place is spacious enough—you can come by around noon.”

“Great. Then I’ll get going… with my daily intake of coffee, as usual.” He smiled, picking up the book he had tucked under his arm.

You paused briefly. Because that cover looked painfully familiar. That was your work, your webcomic. The one that went viral back when you were in college.

“Where did you get that?” you asked, eyeing the cover before looking up at him, suspicion clear in your expression.

You were pretty sure it was old. There shouldn’t even be active copies of it anymore. You had buried that part of your life a long time ago.

“Oh, this?” he gestured casually. “My team’s working on a big project right now. It’s for a campaign we’re handling.” He took a sip from his drink, completely oblivious to your reaction.

It wasn’t like you were sweating, or panicking. 

Or internally screaming.

It was just your own damn book—the one your nephew had no idea existed. You wrote it back in college. It was stupid, honestly, and you weren’t proud of it. You literally wrote about two dudes who were roommates and… well, got very close.

Unfortunately, it went viral back then. You had no idea how it resurfaced now, and frankly, you wanted nothing to do with it.

Sunoo glanced at his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go now. Don’t forget about tomorrow! My team and that mean senior will be there too.”

And just like that, he left. Leaving you standing there, wondering what kind of disaster was about to unfold.

...

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Collaboration Inquiry with Carrot Publication. Hi Belububbles, I hope this message finds you well. On behalf of my team, our company has previously reached out to your agency regarding a potential collaboration. We were advised to contact you directly; however, we have yet to receive a response to our emails or direct messages. As this matter is time-sensitive, I would like to request a face-to-face meeting tomorrow at our office, should you be available. Please let us know your availability by today. If we do not hear back from you we will proceed with further steps to move this discussion forward. Looking forward to hearing from you. Best regards, Going Company PR team + 82 013-xxx-xxx

You bristled the moment you read the email in your inbox. Just when you were having a perfectly good day, which is ruined. That tone alone was enough to irritate you. Sure, you did ignore unknown callers and random emails. Most of them were spam or obvious scams, and you never bothered checking unless they came through your publication agency.

Still… the audacity.

Come to think of it, Sunoo did mention that his team was dealing with a particulary demanding client. Which probably meant his “superior” had grown a second set of horns by now. You could already imagine someone breathing down his neck, especially with how much he’d been fumbling lately. Not that you could blame him, the expectations sounded ridiculous and apparently, his superior had decided to take it on anyway.

Good thing none of that had anything to do with you.

Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if one day Sunoo quit his job and showed up at your cafe asking for a position. You were short-staffed anyway, it might actually work out.

And now here you are. Standing in front of the Going Company. You had replied to their email yesterday, and they wasted no time contacting you again today. Still, you didn’t appreciate the tone—less of a request, more of a thinly veiled demand. 

You rarely made any public appearances for your work. That’s what aliases were for. Working behind the scenes, under your publication agency was exactly how you liked it. You just hoped, really hoped that you wouldn’t run into Sunoo here.

It was a big building after all. Surely, you wouldn’t. Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs

Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs, fingers tapping lightly against your arm. One of the staff had already ushered you in, leaving you alone as you waited for the so-called “representative.” Something about this felt off. And you had a feeling that this meeting was about to get a lot more complicated.

Did you burn your toast today? Nah. That couldn’t be it. But you did burn the cookies. Which meant Seungkwan ended up cleaning the mess after you told him you had an appointment to get to. This is exactly why you have employees. Even if you treat them more like your nieces and nephews despite being around the same age.

The door then opened. Someone had arrived, but of all people you didn’t expect him. You lifted your head lazily, bored and later froze at the sight.

Jeon Wonwoo.

He also stopped mid-step too, one hand still on the chair he was about to pull out, eyes locked on you. Then, slowly he sat down with his hands clasped and composed. Professional. Like nothing had happened. For a second, neither of you moved. 

He was dressed in a black turtleneck, lanyard hanging neatly around his neck and glasses. You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He hadn’t worn them the night you met. The two of you just stared for a moment.

Silence filled the air. Awkward and heavy.

Later, you both looked away at the same time, and he cleared his throat. God, you hoped this was just someone who looked like him.

“Belububbles, right?” he began, voice painfully familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you’ve probably realized, I’m the one who emailed you.”

Your brows furrowed. So he was the one behind that email.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, part of the PR team. I look forward to working with you. Let’s get started.”

Well. Fuck me.

Just your luck. Your one-night stand, your very recent one-night stand was now sitting across from you, acting like a corporate robot.

You offered him a polite smile. Too polite. It didn’t reach your eyes. “Of course. Now, what is it that you’d like to discuss?”

Wonwoo clasped his hands again, diving straight into the explanation, laying out the project, the campaign, the planning. Every detail, every step. Thirty minutes later, he finally finished. He slid a contract across the table toward you. You raised a brow at that. It was all the NDA, policies and terms whatever it was. You hadn’t even agreed yet and they already prepared all this? 

Persistent. Just like his email. What kind of passive-aggressive person was this?

“I’m not going to agree to this,” you said with a sigh, placing the document back on the table. “I don’t do public appearances. I thought you already knew that. My agency always consults me first.”

“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why we’re only proposing pre-recorded interviews. No face reveal—just voice, with filters if necessary.”

You were listening. It is intriguing but you need a lot more convincing to do.

“We just want you to participate in our campaign event,” he continued, confidence steady. “We’re gathering artists and writers involved in the project. You’d have your own merchandise, a chance to expand your audience—”

“I don’t really care about that,” you cut in lightly. “But I do like money.”

He blinked. Clearly not expecting that.

“…Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then would you reconsider? I’ve read your current work—the one you’re still updating. Wouldn’t you want more people to see it?”

You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I’ve considered it. But I don’t want the kind of exposure that comes with it. People dig. I value my privacy. And I have a real-life job too. A big one.”

He exhaled slooowly, clearly trying to stay patient. “What about physical sales?” he pressed. “Printed copies. You mentioned profit—this is an opportunity to maximize that.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve had enough of that. My agency handles most of it anyway.”

Honestly, you didn’t need them. You had your own ways, holding out your own event, your own marketing. You knew what you were doing.

Wonwoo momentarily paused. Finally, he tried again. “What do you want?”

You met his gaze. He was stubborn as hell. You hadn’t even planned to negotiate. You just came here to make one thing clear. You weren’t interested at all. With a quiet exhale, you stood up. “Mr. Jeon,” you said, already reaching for your bag, “I came all the way here to inform you that I’m not interested. Also, your email? That sounded more like a threat than a request.” You turned toward the door. “Have a great day.”

“I’m trying to be nice here,” his voice cut in, sharper now, “but you’re making my job difficult.” His voice made you pause as he stood up. “You don’t want fame, money—whatever it is. People like you are always so demanding, and yet here you are—”

You turned your back slowly. His gaze locked onto yours. 

“…Though I didn’t expect it to be you,” he added, voice dropping slightly. “Not only are you a brat in bed, but apparently in general too.”

Ah.

There it was.

You smiled sweetly, stepping dangerously closer. “Why?” you tilted your head. “Was audacity on sale this year?” He scoffed quietly at that.

“Listen,” you added, voice light, “acting like a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.” you paused. “…Though, unfortunately, in your case—”

Except that he is.

His eyes narrowed, a low, sardonic chuckle slipping out. “You already know what I’m like,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

You glared at him. He didn’t back down either. The silence stretched, until you broke it with a frustrated groan.

“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you muttered, turning back to the door. Then you stopped mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. “For the record?” you added flatly, “It was good dick.” A beat.  “But it was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t survive with a dickhead personality like yours.”

You pulled the door open. “It was terrible to meet you, by the way.” 

And then you left. Leaving him standing there, rendered speechless, and completely thrown off. You refused to let anyone ruin your day. So, you naturally decided that you did it yourself.

…

Your mood stayed soured the entire day after that meeting with your stupidly, insufferable, annoying, dickhead one-night stand. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look the moment you walked in. They were very aware of your mood swing, and very determined not to become your next victims. It was fine, though. They were used to it.

Chan tried first. “You look extra pretty today.”

“I’m not raising your pay. Go to work.” you said flatly, not even looking up as you handled the cashier. 

“Alright,” he nodded, but lingered for a second. “I mean it, though. You’re really pretty today.”

You hummed, then lifted your head slightly. “…You know what? Hell yeah. I am pretty. Being frowny doesn’t make me ugly—it makes me extra hot pretty.”

Seungkwan and Chan exchanged another look again. Seungkwan shook his head and went back to restocking the pastries.

Ah.

Very normal. 

A little while later, Sunoo walked in with his planning team. Just like he mentioned yesterday. You flashed them a bright smile as they approached the counter. 

“These are my colleagues,” Sunoo introduced casually. “And this is my aunt. No weird comments.”

“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.” you greeted warmly, slipping into your customer-service persona. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”

They greeted you back, placing their orders before heading off to their reserved table. Then, two guys lingered. Both are a couple inches taller than Sunoo, one with a sharp jawline, the other with pale skin and mischievous grin.

The pale one  smiled a little too confidently. “Hi. You’re really beautiful. Are you single?”

You blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh—I mean… depends on the day, and fortunately today is a yes.”

Sunghoon and Jongseong  snickered, nudging each other, while Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. He hated when people did this, especially his own friends.

“Yeaahhh, we’re done here,” Sunoo cut in quickly. “Three iced americanos.” He dragged them away before they could say anything else.

You just watched them go, already ringing up the order. Just as you were about to take the next customer, a deep voice spoke.

“I’d like to pay for their order, and one iced cafe latte.” You didn’t even look up at the person.

“Okay, that would be—” as your eyes finally met with the face, and about to take his card. You immediately screamed. Like you had just seen a cockroach. Hands flew to your mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.

The entire cafe went silent. Heads turned at the scene. Seungkwan and Chan snapped their attention toward you. Wonwoo, just stood there—card still in hand, eyes slightly widened in confusion.

Meanwhile, from across the cafe, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo and whispered. “Man, I knew Mr. Jeon could be intimidating, but I didn’t think he was that scary. Your aunt looks traumatised.”

You still didn’t move. Didn’t even blink or breathe. Seungkwan slowly walked over, glanced between you and Wonwoo. He immediately took over, seeing that you remained unmoved. “Thank you,” he said smoothly, taking the card and finishing the transaction.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at you oddly, and suspiciously. He finally turned and walked straight towards Sunoo. Your eyes followed him. And landed right on your nephew’s table. On his team. He was sitting at the centre like he owned the place. 

Oh no.

What the hell.

That was the “mean” superior he’d been talking about?

Sunoo cannot know. He absolutely cannot know about your side hustle. And definitely not about that night. Your nephew had no idea that you and his senior had met not just this morning, but very, very personally before that. He had no idea you and his senior had jumped each other like a trampoline in a hotel room.

You only stood there, frozen. Completely mortified at how insanely small the world was. You could’ve slept with anyone, but certainly not this. Not only did you sleep with him, you also argued with him like cats and dogs this morning.

Great. How amazing.

You wanted nothing more than to dig yourself a grave and lie in it. You could scream or maybe cry a little. You know that feeling when you meet someone and your heart skips a beat? Yeah. That’s arrhythmia. You could literally die from that. From the very first moment you laid your eyes upon him, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life AVOIDING him.

Seungkwan calmly stacked cups while you crouched behind the counter like a fugitive. “You know,” he started casually, “when I used to work at a corporation, I learned a very professional way to say things.” You didn’t even look up. “I’m assuming something bad happened between you and that mean-looking guy over there,” he added, jerking his chin toward Wonwoo’s table.

“I wasn’t.” you sneered.

“It is,” he corrected immediately, like he already knew, and annoyingly, he did. “This was identified early on as a likely outcome.”

“What does that even mean?” Chan popped his head out from the back.

Seungkwan didn’t miss a beat. “It means ‘I told you’ but professionally.”

You abruptly stood up, pretending to busy yourself while sneaking a glance at their table. Wonwoo was speaking behind his laptop, the rest of the team listening intently. Right on fucking cue, his eyes met yours and stayed there. Your gaze hardened,  sending him a very clear message, close to a warning or threat. What the fuck are you doing here? Wonwoo merely tilted his head slightly toward his team and mouthed a simple, “Work.”

Oh, he was hilarious. Strangely calm too. Like he was used to handling crises like this. Before your silent rentless fuck you exchanged could continue, you saw Sunoo heading toward you. Instantly, you plastered on a smile. A little too wide.

Your nephew grabbed your arm. “What was that?” he hissed, glancing between you and his table. “Did you really have to scream in his face? I already feel like my soul leaves my body every time he looks at me—if he asks why my aunt is acting like a lunatic, I’m done for.”

You frowned, whisper-yelling back like you were negotiating something illegal. “That was a reflex. He looked too much like my ex.” You blatantly lied, as if you never do that with your nephew through the years of babysitting him.

Sunoo scoffed, grabbing a couple of water bottles. “Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that since I was six. Please don’t embarrass me. For the love of God.” And just like that, he walked back to his meeting.

You exhaled sharply. So much for easy-peasy lemon squeezy. This was more like stressy, depressy, lemon fucking zesty. Life didn’t hand you lemons. It handed you a caffeine addiction, trust issues and zero patience for dickheads like Wonwoo.

So when you noticed him heading toward the restroom, you followed after him. A moment later, he was at the sink, rinsing his hands. He turned around until he was immediately met with you slamming your hand against the tiled wall beside him. He paused, slightly caught off guard. Despite being taller than you, it seems like your anger towards him was taller.

“Did it hurt,” you said sweetly, a sharp smile on your lips, “when you fell out of someone’s asshole and into toilet water, you piece of shit?”

Wonwoo didn’t even flinch. By now, he seemed immune to it. “Not really,” he replied calmly, crossing his arms, “but I know shit when I see one.”

You groaned under your breath, pacing slightly. God, he was insufferable. “Did it have to be my cafe?” you snapped. “Seeing you this morning was already bad enough, and now you just show up here too?”

“I didn’t choose the location,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Though now that I think about it… I didn’t know that ray of sunshine was your nephew.” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping a little closer. “It’s ironic, really.”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the devil everyone’s been talking about,” you shot back. “Didn’t realise it was someone that I used to suck his dick—”

You stopped yourself. Barely.

Wonwoo stiffened slightly, adjusting his glasses. Yeah, that landed. You were not sure if he was taken aback by being a worse senior colleague, or that part when you mentioned of sucking his stupid dick.

He clicked his tongue, gaze steady. “Do I look like someone who goes around flaunting his sex life? Exactly. No way in hell.” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer again, voice lowering. “If you agree to the proposal from this morning, I’ll agree to keep things… civil between us.” Then he stepped back, giving you space.

Silence fell. You studied him for a moment. However, he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Just a straightforward goal. He gives off that impression of a guy that has no time for relationships, probably terrible at it. A stubborn, workaholic guy with a nasty temper. Possibly hates himself a little.

Not that you were one to judge. You weren’t exactly easy either. Honestly, you didn’t care about him but your nephew? That was a different story. If Sunoo found out—if he ever found out there was no doubt he’d snitch to your sister. You’ll be dead for sure. 

You exhaled slowly, reluctantly even. “...Fine,” you muttered.

Life is like a helicopter sometimes. To begin with, you don’t even know how to operate one. One could argue that you're one step closer to death than to having a stable relationship. Some people belong to the streets, but you’d like to think that you belong to the ponds because you’re just a silly goose.

At this point, you don’t think coffee even wakes you up anymore. You just like the idea of having coffee. That is, until someone had abused your apartment doorbell. At this rate, they might as well have broken it and got arrested for it. This place isn’t cheap, you paid a ridiculous amount of money to live here.

Grudgingly, you swing the door open and there he is. Wonwoo, looking completely unimpressed as he casually steps inside like he owns the place. Meanwhile, you’re standing there in your tousled hair and beluga-pattern pajamas.

“I called you multiple times. You didn’t answer,” he said, crossing his arms, eyeing your outfit. “Did you get my text and throw your phone into the Pacific Ocean?”

You let out a scoff, already walking back to your bedroom, which of course he followed. “I was busy. Why are you even here?” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.

“Busy doing what?” he shot back dryly. “Sleeping at noon?”

“I can be in bed and still be busy,” you mumbled into your blanket. “Busy gathering my strength.”

Wonwoo stared at you incredulously. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was trying not to slam his head into the nearest wall.

“How’s the progress?” he asked instead.

You didn’t answer immediately. Just hummed in against the comforter. 

He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply then pulled— no, he freaking suddenly yanked the blanket off you. The cold air hit instantly.

“Okay—what is wrong with you, you psycho?” you snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. “First of all, get out of my room. Second, get out of my house.”

Before he could lunge forward at you, ready to claw his paw at you. Your phone buzzed, signing as you answered without even checking the caller ID.

“I’m heading to your place now,” Sunoo’s voice came through. “I don’t feel like eating cafeteria food—”

Your eyes snapped wide open. “Right now?” you blurted, panic immediately setting in. Wonwoo watched you as you scrambled out of bed, suddenly moving like a hurricane.

Oh, hell no.

Sunoo cannot see him here. Not in your apartment, your room. Just anywhere to be honest. You tried to grab clothes, then froze because this jerk was still here. “Shit—okay, you can’t be here,” you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “My nephew is on his way.”

“What—” Before he could finish, you shoved him out of your room, but the front door unlocked.

Without thinking, you pushed Wonwoo right back into your room and slammed the door shut. Perfect timing. You turned around just as Sunoo walked in and flawlessly smiled.

“Why are you still wearing that at your age?” he said immediately, eyeing your pyjamas.

You ignored that. He walked straight to the kitchen, already opening the fridge, while you trailed behind him. Your eyes dart back toward your bedroom door every two seconds.

“You could’ve asked Seungkwan or Chan to bring you food,” you said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t your mom give you side dishes?”

“She did,” he replied, rummaging through your fridge. “But my roommate ate everything.”

You scoffed. “Just take what you need and go.”

“Why? Do you have a special somebody over?”

Rolling your eyes, you agreed anyway, “Yes, me. I’m amazing and I enjoy my own company.”

Sunoo stared at you for a second. “...Then explain why there are men’s leather shoes at the entrance.”

You momentarily froze at that. How did you fucking forget about it?

Before he could say anything else, you snatched the container from his hands, shoved food into a bag, and pushed it into his chest.

“Okay—out,” you said, dragging him to the door.

“What about—" The door shut in his face. You exhaled in relief, leaning your forehead against the door and turned to see Wonwoo was already out of your room.

“Is he gone?” he asked, peeking out.

“Yeah. Thank God he didn’t ask more questions,” you muttered, rubbing your face. “How did you even get my address?”

“Your agency.”

You groaned, pacing around again.

“Look, I don’t hate you,” he said after a pause, “I’m just not particularly excited about your existence in my life.”

Turning to shoot another nasty glare, you start. “Put yourself in my shoes, idiot. I wouldn’t care if you got hit with—”

“I wouldn’t wear those shoes if I were you.”

You were utterly speechless at the sheer amount of cockiness this guy had. Whenever he was around, you had the overwhelming urge to claw at him like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

“I know, why not ask yourself,” you snapped. “Is my dick big enough to match your attitude?" His brows furrowed at that. “Exactly!” You clapped once.

Aaaand just like that, you were arguing again with him. Neither of you noticed the door opening. Sunoo stepped inside and froze. His gaze moved from you then to Wonwoo. 

Back to you, then to Wonwoo again.

Wonwoo was the first to notice. You followed his gaze and stopped. There was a thick, almost heavy silence that filled the atmosphere.

“…Hate that you had to find out like this,” you said slowly.

Sunoo blinked, stepping back slowly. “…Okay,” he said carefully, already putting his shoes back on. “I didn’t know you two were… dating.”

Dating.

Dating???

He gave a small, polite bow. Probably directed to Wonwoo. “Goodbye, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you after lunch.”

The door closed later. And you just stood there, still processing everything that happened. Your nephew now thinks you’re dating the biggest man of shit in your life. You might actually need to fake your death this time.

...

“I think I’m forgetting something.”

“Morals, probably?” Wonwoo said without even looking up from his tablet.

“No, it’s something important,” you insisted, about to rise from your seat. “I think I need to go back to the cafe before Chan sets the place on fire.”

Wonwoo’s head snapped up. “Wait—no. Sit down. We just got here… oh my God.” He dragged a hand down his face beneath his glasses. “For the love of God, can you sit still for one moment? It took almost two hours to get you here, and I already helped drop your twins off at school.”

You sat back down reluctantly. “How long is this interview going to take?”

“Depends,” he replied dryly. “If you decide to be difficult, probably more than thirty minutes, and I’ll have to work overtime.”

“I can’t do that,” you shot back. “I have to attend the twin’s family day. Their dad bailed at the last minute.”

He sighed again, looking seconds away from tearing his hair out. Mostly because you had completely missed the sarcasm.

“Nevermind. Let’s just start.”

He set the voice recorder on his phone and straightened in his chair. “First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to work with us. We’re very delighted.”

“Thank you. It’s my pleasure too,” you answered flawlessly.

“How did you decide to create such interesting characters in most of your stories?”

You thought for a moment. “I honestly didn’t think too deeply about it. I started writing back in college. I met a lot of different people, so I borrowed certain traits here and there.”

“What made you shift from writing novels to illustrating them?”

“I had a lot of free time back then, and writing gave me plenty of ideas. I knew readers enjoyed the stories too. I didn’t want to stop writing, so instead I adapted them into manhwa so readers could visualize them.”

Wonwoo typed something down before continuing. “On a different note—do you wish to publish another novel one day?”

You crossed your arms, considering it. “I don’t think so. I already have too much on my plate, and illustrating takes time. Maybe after I finish my current project, I’ll think about writing again.”

“How did you feel when you learned your first work, And They Were Roommates, rose in sales again?”

You stiffened slightly. “Uh… well, I didn’t expect it to go viral again this year. I guess I was delighted? It was unexpected, but I received a lot of positive feedback too.”

Wonwoo nodded and flipped to the next page. “This is a special question from your readers. How did you come up with so many hilarious dialogues? They found the comedy really engaging.”

“Ah.” You visibly relaxed. “At first, I never meant for it to become a comedy. I just like writing characters who are witty, so I guess readers found that funny.”

“I can see that,” he said, then continued. “Another fan question: did you base your character’s personalities on real people?”

You made a face. “Well… they’re not wrong. I’ve met my fair share of terrible people and let too many assholes into my life. Real-life suffering became entertainment.”

His eyes narrowed. “Language.”

“What? I speak nothing but the truth.”

He only shook his head. “We’re getting nowhere if you keep doing this. I’ve done some self-reflection—if you cooperate, this can end faster.”

“Oh, so you did have a talk with your dick last night?”

Wonwoo immediately paused the recording and stared at you with a long, exhausted sigh. “Can we put that aside? And no, I did not talk to my dick.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine. Next question.”

He resumed recording. “Another fan question: how did you come up with such funny dialogue and plots?”

“Actually,” you said, “I’m not that funny. I think I’m just an asshole, and people assume I’m joking. That’s how I ended up making rude characters everyone somehow loves.”

He paused the recording again. “Would it kill you to give me one normal answer?”

“What? That is my honest answer.”

“It’s not appropriate for the media.”

“Then make it appropriate. That’s literally your job.”

Yeah. The two of you were getting absolutely nowhere. 

After the interview, Wonwoo somehow found himself babysitting your niece and nephew, the twins, who were now sprinting around his office. He needed a bucket of caffeine, a fever patch, and divine intervention. Not because of the kids, because you had very clearly dumped them on him like he was a free daycare service. 

“What’chu doin’?” Wonhee asked, propping her chin on his forearm while he typed.

“Work,” he answered flatly.

“Oooo. About what?”

“Work.”

“What kind of work?” Wonjun asked this time.

“Work,” he repeated.

“I want Auntie’s cheesecake after this!” Wonhee cheered, bouncing excitedly before both twins ran circles around his desk.

God, just kill me. He was screaming internally. 

A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Sunoo, holding finalized planning documents. Wonwoo nearly saw heaven. 

“Sunoo!” the twins yelled in unison, rushing him immediately. 

“Sorry, guys, I’m at work right now, so I can’t play,” he said, patting their head before looking back at his superior. “Yeahhhh… I actually have plans with the team after this,” Sunoo added awkwardly, already stepping backward. 

Even Sunoo knew better than to get involved. He quickly shut the door. Wonwoo turned back to his computer and resumed typing aggressively.

“Uncle Won. Uncle Won. Uncle Won,” Wonjun repeated, tugging at his sleeve.

“What?” he replied flatly, eyes still on the screen.

“I need to go potty.”

Wonwoo finally looked down. 

“Now?” The boy nodded desperately.

“If you don’t take him now, he’ll tinkle in his pants,” Wonhee informed him with complete sincerity.

Wonwoo muttered something under his breath, then immediately scooped the boy up and marched out of the office.

The entire team watched in stunned silence. From across the room, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo. “I think you’re getting another playmate soon, dude.” 

Sunoo scoffed, scowling as he scrolled through his laptop. “Stop that. It’s not funny. I don’t care. Even if they break up, I still lose.” He pointed dramatically in each direction. “They break up—I still have to see his face at work. They stay together—I still have to see his face at work.” He slumped in defeat, “My life has no winning route.”

...

“Baby.”

Wonwoo looked at you as the twins zoomed around your cafe, clearly bothering your two staff members.

“What?” you shrugged. “You want me to call you fellow associate instead?”

He was one step away from crashing out. First, you made his work life hell. Second, you had dropped the twins off at his office not once, not twice, but three times. Wonwoo was good at his job. Great, even. Then when you walked into his life. The tragedy followed.

“Aunty! Aunty!” Wonhee bounced on her feet, reaching up. You picked her up easily. “Tomorrow I have a soccer match! Teacher Yoon said we can bring our parents!”

“But Papa said he can’t come,” Wonjun huffed, stomping lightly. “Something about work.”

Your heart softened instantly. Your brother was busy running his law firm, and even though he and his ex-wife were divorced, they were still co-parenting well. With their busy lives, complicated timing—that was all.

“Oh, alright then. I’ll go,” you said, giving in easily.

“That’s unfair—I wanna see them play!” Seungkwan popped up from behind the counter.

“Wait—count me in!” Chan added.

You rolled your eyes, setting Wonhee down and placing your hands on your hips.

“No. I need both of you to take care of the café while I’m gone. And Chan, I know you’re just using that as an excuse to slack off.”

Chan dropped the cloth dramatically onto the counter. “Aw, man.”

“Will Uncle Won come too?” Wonjun asked, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg and staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Wonwoo stiffened, his gaze flicked to you. You smiled in return, a little crooked and suspiciously sweet.

“Umm… he’s kinda busy,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shoulder. “He has a big adult job. He might not make it.”

Both twins immediately started whining loudly. For a second, you remembered just how insufferable they could be. The last time you babysat them, they threw a full-blown tantrum over Haribo marshmallow chocolate.

“Okay, stop,” you deadpanned, staring at Wonjun, who had dramatically sprawled onto the floor. “You don’t demand things from someone you barely know. Show some respect to your elders. And get off the floor—it’s dirty.”

“I just mopped that,” Chan added.

You ignored him.

“You and Papa always say the same thing!” Wonjun protested, sitting up. “He says, ‘respect your elders,’ but he never comes to my singing or storytelling!”

…Ouch.

“Yeah!” Wonhee chimed in. “Papa says stuff like that because he’s old and forgetful. Aunty, you’re becoming like Grandpa too.”

“Hey now,” you crossed your arms. “If anything, I’m better.”

Wonwoo nearly rolled his eyes. Wonhee suddenly turned to him, already halfway climbing into his arms. “Uncle Won, please come! I want to show you my super cool kick!”

He froze completely. He looked at her, then at you and then back at her. He said nothing. Mostly because he knew what would happen if he refused. Flashback from his office with all the screaming, he was sure people from the outside could heard that loud and clear.

You caught his eye and subtly shook your head.

Don’t. Encourage. Them.

“Aunty,” Wonjun said suddenly, frowning, “why don’t you want Uncle Won around? It’s like Mama and Papa.”

Your expression faltered. “…Hey. I’m nothing like them,” you said, quieter this time.

That one hit a little too close. You sighed, then reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Fine. We’ll see tomorrow. If we can make it.”

That was enough to make the twins lit up instantly.

From across the cafe, three figures watched the entire scene unfold like a live drama. Seungkwan leaned on the counter. Chan mirrored him. Sunoo stood between them, looking deeply troubled.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Sunoo muttered.

Seungkwan shook his head. “No, no—let them keep going. This is good.”

Sunoo turned to him slowly. “…Good?”

“Would you rather they take their frustration out on us?” Seungkwan pointed out.

Chan nodded immediately. “Fair. Also, there’s a chance our boss might raise our pay if she’s in a good mood.”

He clasped his hands together dramatically. “I will pray for that. I refuse to suffer in a cafe with emotional damage and no bonus.”

Sunoo stared at both of them. “…Yeah. That checks out.”

The exhibition was going well so far. Wonwoo liked to think all his hard work had finally paid off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one thing.

You.

Your mere presence alone was enough to test the last thread of his patience. He just needed to keep his shit together for one day. Just this once.

“You didn’t wear your glasses today,” you remarked, openly scanning him from head to toe, and annoyingly enough, he looked devastatingly handsome. If only he kept his mouth shut. “You’ve stared enough, perhaps?” 

His head snapped toward you, brows knitting together. “It’s nine in the morning,” he hissed. “Stop fucking testing me.”

“Ah, ah,” you interrupted, waving your VIP lanyard around obnoxiously. “I’m the important guest here.”

“I should’ve thrown fertilizer at you so you could grow the hell up,” he muttered, trying very hard to remain professional.

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I were an octopus so I could slap you with all eight tentacles at once.”

He already looked tired. You continued anyway.

“Actually, maybe I’d use them to peg you down so you’d finally learn how to bow your head.”

Wonwoo blinked, once then twice. He genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stared at you in silence, expression unreadable, wondering how you always managed to hit new levels of insanity before ten in the morning.

Right on cue, another familiar figure approached.

“Hey, Wonwoo—oh.”

The man halted when his eyes landed on you. “I didn’t know you were here,” he grinned brightly. “It’s been forever.”

It was Mingyu.

You froze.

Oh, for the love of God.

“O-oh… yeah. Haha.” Your laugh sounded faker than the fake Chanel bag you once bought online. “What an… unexpected reunion.”

Mingyu had been your junior back in college. And unfortunately, very unfortunately—your old BL series was heavily inspired by him. Mostly because he never shut up about his roommate constantly invading his personal space. At the time, you were just a broke college student trying to survive. You never expected And They Were Roommates to blow up the way it did. 

People would read shit anything.

Mingyu casually slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked between the two of you suspiciously. He did not like where this was going.

“I work here,” Mingyu explained cheerfully. “Different department though. Remember that roommate I used to complain about all the time?”

He pointed directly at Wonwoo. “Yeah. It’s this guy.”

Your smile twitched violently.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

Out of all people, the world really was disgustingly small.

“Real question is,” Mingyu continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “why are you here?”

You absolutely could not tell him you were the main guest of the entire event. So instead, you smoothly covered your VIP pass with your hand and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Oh, you know…”

Before your brain could stop you, you looped your arm through Wonwoo’s.

“Just supporting my boyfriend at work.”

Mingyu’s smile dropped instantly. Wonwoo stiffened beside you.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately,” you sighed dramatically, “for someone who treats life like a joke, I’m being serious this time.”

Mingyu looked unconvinced, very unconvinced. He glanced between the two of you like he was trying to solve a math equation with missing numbers. To him, this pairing made absolutely no sense. You, whose personality is like a hurricane, and Wonwoo—who somehow managed to be equally unbearable in a completely different flavor.

Birds of a feather really did flock together.

“…Good for you guys?” Mingyu finally said slowly. “I mean… wow. Match made in heaven.”

The way he said it sounded less like support and more like disbelief.

Before he could ask more questions, you immediately cut in.

“I’d love to continue this questionnaire, Gyu, but Wonwoo and I have somewhere to be.”

You tugged Wonwoo’s arm tighter. “Right, baby?”

“No? What are you—”

“Oh yes, you do, baby,” you cut him off sweetly, already dragging him away. “I know you can’t wait to see the twins.”

With that, you escaped while Mingyu simply stood there, watching the two of you disappear into the crowd. Hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted slightly, he frowned to himself.

How the hell did that happen? Because as far as he knew, both of you were disasters individually.

...

Here you were, sitting beside Wonwoo while watching the twins’ soccer match. Honestly, he didn’t know how he ended up tangled in all of this. Not once or twice, but somehow—every single time he crossed paths with you, his life became increasingly complicated.

At first, he told himself it was only because of the contract, mainly because of work.That staying close to you made things easier professionally. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

Your routines somehow became his problems too, and the worst part? He could’ve said no at any point. So why the hell was he still here?

You nudged his arm excitedly while cheering for the twins. “Take pictures,” you whispered. “They’re gonna ask for them later.”

Wonwoo blinked before adjusting the camera lens in his hands and taking several shots without complaint.

At this point, he was more involved than the twins’ actual parents.

“You could at least smile or look excited,” you sighed, finally turning to face him.

The lively noise of families and cheering echoed around the field.

“You look like a robot. What if the twins notice?”

He lowered the camera slowly and looked at you instead. He stared at you with silence, and blank-faced as always.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need smiling lessons?”

You turned toward him properly, using your fingers to demonstrate. “Okay, look. Make your eyes curve like little shrimp—then lift your cheeks up like this—and…”

Grinning brightly, you continued, “S.M.I.L.E.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you, quietly. The noise around him faded into the background. The wind brushed past gently, making strands of your hair sway under the sunlight in a way that almost looked unreal.

His chest flutters at the sight. It felt oddly similar to the tiny happiness of a stray cat approaching him first, or when his favorite buldak noodles were finally restocked after disappearing for weeks.

It was small and unexpected, but enough to steal his breath away. Wonwoo immediately buried the feeling before it could settle deeper. He cleared his throat, looking away quickly and lifting the camera back toward the field.

You, completely oblivious, muttered under your breath.

“Jerk.”

Then immediately went back to loudly cheering for the twins.

...

By the time all of you arrived back at your place, Wonwoo was carrying your niece while you carried your nephew, both twins completely passed out after dinner with your parents.

At this point, he was involved way too deeply in your family functions.

What made it worse was the fact that your parents didn’t even seem surprised by his presence anymore. It was almost like they had already accepted him and had simply been waiting for the day you finally brought a man home.

Honestly, they probably saw him more often than some actual relatives. He still remembered how your mother kept asking when you were going to get married. And knowing you, of course you only gave half-assed answers.

It reminded him of Mingyu’s grandfather, whose dementia was apparently so bad that he kept asking whether his cousins had jobs.

Ten times.

And ten times, they had to admit they were still unemployed. Honestly, Wonwoo didn’t even think it was dementia anymore. The old man was probably just in disbelief that they were still jobless.

The twins were quickly settled into their room, exhausted after burning through all their energy earlier. You let out a long sigh, stretching your limbs—only to find Wonwoo sprawled across your sofa like a man who had already given up on life.

“Go sleep at your own place, dude.”

“I’m too tired to drive anymore.”

“Not on my sofa.”

His eyes cracked open immediately. 

“Let a man rest, would you?” he groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Ooookay,” you dragged out teasingly, already walking toward your room. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me.”

You paused by the doorway and peeked back at him.

“…In my bed.”

Wonwoo sat up instantly. His interest was fully restored.

“You’re messing with me.”

“Yeah,” you answered easily. “I’m fucking with you.”

You casually started unbuttoning your blouse, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.

Wonwoo’s gaze lingered on your bare shoulders. The loose strap of your camisole slipping against your skin. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. You disappeared into your attached bathroom, beginning to remove your makeup.

“Don’t joke around like that,” he muttered from behind you.

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in.

“I survived your family all day. I deserve proper compensation.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you tossed the makeup wipe into the bin.

“Sleep outside. I’m keeping the bed to myself.”

Wonwoo groaned against your skin, lips brushing along your neck before trailing to your shoulder.

“Seducing me like this isn’t going to work,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your hip while watching him through the mirror.

“Then I’ll make it work,” he murmured.

He nipped lightly at your ear while kicking the bathroom door shut behind him.

You found yourself kissing him again. The kiss was warm and messy, arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as both of you melted into each other like you had been waiting all day for this exact moment.

The bathroom filled with nothing but mingled breaths and quiet laughter between kisses. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, rough palms gliding over your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. Like he wanted to press himself into every part of your life. 

Then, a sudden knock came.

“Aunty…”

Both of you froze instantly.

Wonjun’s sleepy voice came muffled through the door.

“I need to potty.”

You blinked, slowly turning toward Wonwoo. He stared back with the exact same exhausted disbelief.

“Just…” you struggled, trying not to laugh as his hands remained stubbornly on your waist. “Just use the guest bathroom, baby.”

“But I don’t know how.”

You nearly rolled your eyes.

Of course this was happening.

“Wonjun,” you sighed, “you’re five. You absolutely know how.”

Then came soft sniffles. Apparently being woken up from sleep was enough to trigger a minor emotional crisis.

You groaned quietly, resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Wonwoo,” you hissed under your breath, “remove your dick from the situation for one second.”

He actually laughed at that before finally stepping away.

The moment you opened the bathroom door, a sleepy-looking Wonjun stood there with watery eyes and messy hair.

You sighed immediately. There went the mood.

After helping him and reminding him to wash his hands properly, you finally walked back into your room—only to find Wonwoo was already under the duvet. He was shirtless, with his eyes closed. Looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.

“Aunty,” Wonjun asked innocently, “why was Uncle Won in the bathroom with you?”

You swore you heard Wonwoo choke back a laugh.

Keeping a perfectly straight face, you gently patted Wonjun’s head.

“Uncle Won has potty problems too,” you replied smoothly. “I was helping him. Just like you.”

A muffled snort came from the bed.

“Now go back to sleep,” you added. “Aunty needs beauty sleep before she turns into a beast.”

Wonjun nodded seriously and shuffled away.

The moment the door shut, Wonwoo opened one eye.

“Potty problems?”

“Shut up.”

You changed into your pajama pants before climbing onto the bed.

Wonwoo’s hands immediately found your waist as you settled onto his lap, his thumbs tracing slowly against your sides while he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

He kissed you again, slower this time. Somehow even worse for your sanity. His palms are kneading your ass, almost tender with his touch. You melted into him instantly, fingers tangling into his hair while he pulled you closer—

right before the bedroom door burst open again.

“AUNTY!”

You yelped in shock, shoving Wonwoo away so hard he smacked against the headboard.

Wonhee stood at the door clutching her teddy bear dramatically.

“She won’t stop crying,” Wonjun complained from beside her. “And I can’t sleep.”

You and Wonwoo stared at the twins in complete silence. Then at each other. Just like that, the rest of the night ended with all four of you cramped together in one bed.

...

The next morning came far too quickly. The entire night had left both you and Wonwoo restless and unsatisfied, but at least everyone had slept peacefully. That was until Wonwoo’s snores woke everyone up, and your nephew loudly declared that he sounded like a car engine.

After throwing together something quick for breakfast before dropping the twins off at your brother’s place, you set the plates down on the table while Wonjun sat comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap, inhaling an entire cup of instant ramen. You genuinely wondered if he even chewed those.

“Thank you for the food!” the twins chorused in unison.

Wonhee sat beside Wonwoo, already picking up her food so she could eat in front of the TV in the living room. You shook your head at the sight.

Then your eyes landed on the little boy sitting comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap.

For once, you had never been jealous of children—except maybe that one time you realised you couldn’t order a Happy Meal in your mid-thirties anymore, which you now used as an excuse to buy them for the twins.

“Wonjun, can you go eat somewhere else? There are plenty of seats around here.”

Your nephew looked up curiously, pancake stuffed halfway into his mouth. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re five. You don’t need to be babied anymore. Yesterday was one thing.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem bothered at all, still securing the boy comfortably in his arms. “Let him be. Why are you so worked up?”

“Of course I’m worked up. That was my spot before they took it over.”

Both Wonwoo and your nephew stared at you. The silence only broke when Wonhee suddenly ran over holding a handmade card.

“Look! Look!” she squealed excitedly. “I made this yesterday at school. Happy Mother’s Day!”

Your heart melted instantly as you accepted the card with a soft smile, patting her head affectionately. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, darling.”

Wonjun immediately scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and ran toward their room to grab his own version.

You took the opportunity immediately, settling yourself onto Wonwoo’s lap instead. A small “oof” escaped him at the sudden weight.

“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you should give this to your mom.”

Wonhee leaned against both you and Wonwoo, shaking her head. “I made two! One for mama and one for you because teacher Yoon said Mother’s Day isn’t strictly for biological mothers. You took care of me when I was little, so you have a motherhood role too. You’re basically my mom!”

Then Wonjun returned, proudly handing over his own handmade card filled with messy scribbles and barely readable words.

The twins kissed both your cheeks before running back to the living room.

“They sure love you a lot for someone like you,” Wonwoo muttered.

“It’s a shame I can’t officially be called a mother.”

His palm slid gently against your lower abdomen as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.

“I can change that.”

You immediately slapped his hand away. “Wow, look at you. I’m surprised kids are drawn to an asshole like you,” you replied nonchalantly while taking a bite of your pancake.

“The genes never lied then,” he murmured while squeezing your waist. “There’s a reason you ended up with me in the first place.”

You nearly choked at that, refusing to acknowledge how true it sounded.

“Did you know belugas don’t chew their food? Yeah, it reminds me of you inhaling those noodles. Who the hell eats like that?”

Wonwoo shrugged as he continued inhaling the noodles. “It tastes better this way.”

“Only a psychopath would eat like that.”

“Then tell me who the hell gets jealous over a kid sitting on my lap?”

You stared at him, and he stared right back just the same.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied a little too quickly.

“Who said it was you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and you immediately wanted to slap the hell out of him.

“Anyway,” you quickly changed the topic while sipping your tea, “did I know you from somewhere? How did you and Mingyu know each other aside from being roommates?”

He thought for a moment, adjusting himself while you still sat comfortably on his lap. “We went to the same school and university. He doesn’t like sharing spaces with strangers.”

You mused at the information. “You went to the same school as me? Why did I never see you around?”

“I was in the Faculty of Business and Management. Maybe that’s why. Mingyu took architecture before changing to finance and accounting.”

You paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh, I was in the Faculty of Applied Science… something like that. I guess that’s probably why I never saw you.”

“What did you major in?”

“Food science,” you answered simply.

After a brief silence, you spoke again.

“I’m surprised you and Mingyu haven’t kissed each other’s asses yet.”

“I know I’m an asshole, not an assfucker.”

You burst out laughing at that while reaching for his wallet and flipping through his ID picture and cards.

“What do you call a baby whale? A little squirt!”

“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned. “Give me that. Don’t go checking what’s inside.”

Did you listen? Of course not. When have you ever listened to anyone anyway? You barely listened to your parents, so why would you start with him?

“Knock knock,” he suddenly said.

You raised a brow but played along anyway. “Who’s there?”

“Whale,” he answered simply.

“Whale who?”

“Whale…” He paused before immediately snatching the wallet away from your hands. “That’s enough of that.”

You rolled your eyes before shamelessly eating half of the ramen that clearly belonged to him.

“I hope your entire generation experiences bad luck in every possible streak.”

He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll just marry you then. We’re going down together whether you like it or not.”

“Give me your card.”

“No. Use your own, you have money.”

“You said you’d marry me. I want to be spoiled,” you whined dramatically while leaning against him like an oversized cat. “I’ve had enough of being the alpha woman all year long.”

“I don’t want you using my money to buy your own diamond ring. I want to buy it for you.”

You turned your head toward him properly this time.

He looked completely serious.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m not being sarcastic today. Maybe tomorrow, though.”

Before you could even process that, the twins suddenly came running over excitedly. Wonhee repeatedly called your name as if you weren’t literally sitting right there.

“When can I see you become a princess one day?” she asked excitedly, twirling around while showing you a picture of a bride on her tablet.

You hated admitting it, but every year you were reminded that maybe you would never become one—though you were certainly close to becoming a witch.

Still, you smiled softly.

“Oh, maybe soon.”

The little girl gasped excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean Uncle will be your prince? And I want to stay with you the whole time when you become a princess!”

“I think he’d be more like the villain who stole the princess away rather than Prince Charming.”

“Villains are way cooler,” Wonjun added confidently.

Wonwoo merely rolled his eyes at your comments.

“Besides…” you trailed off, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his. “The evil ones are always hotter…”

You chuckled softly before kissing him, earning a smirk from Wonwoo almost immediately.

The twins loudly made gagging noises before scurrying away to continue playing around the living room. You and Wonwoo watched them go before falling back into your own little world together, spending the rest of the morning tangled up in each other before the weekend truly began.

Unfortunately, your love life never unfolded like those Prince Charming fairytales. Instead, it felt more like a ridiculous romcom sitcom filled with stupidity, arguments, and way too many unfortunate coincidences.

Unfortunately, you never met him sooner back in school. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have spent so long giving up on love.

Fortunately, though, you loved the way invisible strings worked.

It was beautiful that way. And fortunately, this piece of shit was yours forever to keep.

FIN.

a/n: omg, i'm finally free!! now i can focus on cheol's fic. it wasn't supposed to be so long, i spent the entire time writing shit in here. i tried eating noodles without chewing btw, almost left me choking to death and never again. it's always the shitty fic that everyone enjoyed, goodday apples! comments, reblogged are appreciated :)

taglist: @coupsarchive @weirdcatlover1 @gyublues @charlieshelves @joongtime @jaja-salute @tstosir @scoupscious @delusionalforjunghoseok  @neotannies @drunk-on-lemonade @chisskaa @flvr4ane @unlikelysublimekryptonite @vwintershire @ashlinxloves @choppedballoondetective @junnhuisworld @mellow-wishes @authorscurse @gyuhao365 @peachywonus @iarayara @scoupcherry94 @enchantingbarbariansublime @wonwoosleftiddie @snowywinterbear @stillthesame-me @mintletters

Seungcheol sighs, and you know he kind of hates being the foreman with a crew of people he grew up with. Jeonghan doesn’t really respect Seungcheol as a boss, nor do Soonyoung and Seungkwan, who can be a hassle most of the time.

The only people who come to work, put their heads down, and do their jobs, are you and your roommate Mingyu.

The tall man stands on your right, and he nudges you as Jeonghan and Seungcheol get into an argument over wages. “Thanks for waking me up this morning.”

You’d felt like death when your alarm went off at 4 am, and when you realized Mingyu’s phone was blaring right next to his head but he was sleeping through it, you’d been forced to shake him into consciousness… which had taken at least five harsh pushes of his broad shoulders.

It’s 5 am now, and you don’t feel amazing, but you don’t feel as bad as you did an hour ago.

This summer has been exceptionally hot, so being outside in the cool air while the sun starts to rise over the horizon is kind of special. No one else is awake, the roads were clear, and part of you is kind of excited about the idea of working in the morning, getting a midday nap, then going back to work for another four hours.

You’ll get through this, you’re sure of it.

After all, it’s just one week.

Two:

You know the moment you step into your apartment that something is wrong. Usually in the summer, Mingyu and you choose to keep the apartment at a nice 20 degrees Celsius (68 Fahrenheit)... but this is not the usual temperature.

“Did you forget to turn on the AC?” you ask, hot and bothered from working and now even hotter and more bothered with annoyance.

“I never turned it off last night,” Mingyu responds, clearly dumbfounded as you both throw down your work gear and head to the thermostat.

“Wait, it’s not on,” you say, puzzled as you hit the power button.

The thermostat that controls the air conditioner does not turn on.

“Are you pushing it?” Mingyu questions.

“Of course I’m pushing it!” you snap, feeling bad almost immediately at your short fuse, but the anxiety is creeping in. “Mingyu, you try,” you insist.

He presses the power button, but the screen remains blank.

“Is it broken?” he asks.

You feel like you can’t breathe, and your body is covered in dirt from working landscaping, your shirt still damp from sweat. You feel uncomfortable already, and this thermostat issue is not helping. “I’m having a shower then I’ll call the landlord,” you decide.

“I’ll keep fiddling with it,” Mingyu responds. “Maybe one of the wires is messed up.”

He’s in school part-time to get his electrician’s certification, and you hope to God as you head to the one shared bathroom that this is a wiring issue. You run the water cold in the shower, wincing a little at the temperature, but you’re determined to completely cool yourself off if the thermostat is indeed broken.

You can’t even imagine what today - what this week - will look like if your air conditioner has decided to die on you. 

Ten minutes later, you’re exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body, your hair still damp with cold water and refreshing you as you walk through the already warming apartment.

You notice as you call your building manager that Mingyu has closed all the blinds, which is a start to keep out the heat.

As you talk with the building manager, he explains that this isn’t an issue anyone else has been having yet, so it must be specific to your unit. He’s an older man, to fit the older building the two of you have lived in since you started college five years ago. You’ve been through a lot living here, and your building manager has never been helpful.

“I’ll send someone to come look at it, but they might not be able to get there until Thursday, our usual handyman is on vacation,” your building manager explains.

“What?” you gasp, locking eyes with Mingyu. “But it’s a Monday and a heat wave! We can’t wait until Thursday!”

“Then call someone else,” your building manager says simply.

With a groan, you hang up on him. “Mingyu, do we know anyone who works with air conditioners?

He looks as at a loss as you feel, and after half an hour of calling Seungcheol, asking around, and looking up the company that supplies the air conditioner and thermostat, you’re dismayed to realize that every person who works on air conditioners and thermostats is already booked up for the week. One man offered to come as an ‘emergency favour’, but he wanted to charge you five hundred dollars just to look at the issue, not even for the work, which you can only assume would also be severely inflated when the bill finally came.

You collapse on the couch with Mingyu. “What do we do?”

“I think… we try to ride it out,” he sighs.

“Mingyu, we’re a south-facing unit. We get full sun all day.”

“I know.” He lets out another deep breath. “Maybe we can try to get some rest and sleep through the worst of it?”

“I mean… we can give it a try.”

Three:

You had woken up not three hours into your nap with your skin covered in sweat and your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your body. Try as you might to fall back to sleep, you simply couldn’t, and with a sigh, you’d gotten up to go to the kitchen, which is where you found Mingyu standing with an ice pack on his neck.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he had asked.

After a brief debate, you had called Seungcheol, and he had invited you to come siesta at his apartment where he has a private building pool as part of the amenities list.

So here you are, the only two people braving the heat just in order to submerge yourself in water that had gone from cold to lukewarm within an hour.

“Isn’t the pool supposed to be temperature controlled?” you ask, adjusting the hat on your head to shade more of your sunscreen covered skin.

“Supposed to be.” Mingyu groans, his shoulders already turning pink despite all the protection he’d lathered onto his body. “This week is going to be Hell.”

You agree with him, and while you’re staring at the sunburn developing on his broad shoulders, you feel the heat making your mind fuzzy. You can’t pull your eyes away from his body, how chiselled he is. The way his perfect muscles ripple along his chest and biceps…

Working in landscaping this summer has done wonders for him, not that he wasn’t jacked already.

You and Mingyu had met as children in first grade, and you’ve been best friends ever since.

Sure, you know that objectively he’s extremely attractive, but he’s the best friend someone could ever ask for, so you’ve held yourself back all of these years in the hopes of keeping him by your side in any capacity.

“What are you looking at?” Mingyu asks, pulling your attention from his form.

Your skin heats up even more, and you submerge yourself all the way to your neck in the water. “Your shoulders are burning,” you tell him, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Fuck.”

Four:

“Okay, so the building manager is sending the repair guy on Thursday,” you sigh as you exit Mingyu’s truck at the fifth hardware store in search of a portable air conditioner.

The parking lot is black asphalt, and it has this distinct smell of petroleum perfuming the scorching air. It’s so hot that the road is fucking offgassing, and it makes your nose scrunch up as you and Mingyu hurry into the store. 

As soon as you’re through the doors, you’re hit with the cooling AC, and it makes you both groan a sigh of relief.

You navigate to the portable air conditioners aisle, and you’re shocked to find the shelves empty, which is when Mingyu waves over a worker in an orange apron.

“Excuse me, sir,” he smiles. “Are there any portable air conditioners left?”

“Unfortunately we’re sold out,” the man frowns.

“Okay, I understand, but this is the fifth store we’ve been to,” you say, voice choking a little as defeat washes over you. “Everywhere is empty on portable air conditioners, and the last place said you might have some in stock.”

“Sorry, miss,” the man says, turning his attention to you. “We have full air conditioners, not the portable kind, and we could have someone drop it off and install it in two days if you’re interested.”

Two days from now is Thursday, which is when your handyman is coming to look at your thermostat and air conditioner anyways. Besides which, you can’t afford to buy a completely new air conditioner.

You let out a groan, and Mingyu is quick to smooth things over. “Sorry for her, our AC broke yesterday morning, and no one is willing to come out and look at it. We’ve been driving around all afternoon and nowhere has any portable units. Is it possible you could show me on the computer if any of the other locations of your store have any in stock?”

You can’t believe Mingyu is keeping his cool, and you walk around like a zombie as he chats with the sales rep. After a while, he comes back, shaking his head, and you plop down onto a piece of promotional outdoor furniture.

“What now?” you ask.

“Now,” Mingyu sighs, sitting down next to you, “we walk through the aisles here, and kill some time before we have to go to work again at 5 pm. At least they have air conditioning here.” 

Five:

It’s night two, and try as you might to open all the doors and windows, the air outside isn’t even that cool. You have a wet cloth on your chest, but the droplets are gliding down your skin to your sheets and making damp spots that annoy you as you toss and turn.

The irritation is palpable, and from the irritation comes a need for distraction. 

You flip onto your back in annoyance, staring at the ceiling and imagining Mingyu in the pool. You feel dirty even considering your best friend in a sexual light, but fuck it, you can’t help yourself. Every muscle in your body feels tight and wound up, and for the first time in two days, you feel a touch of relief as your own hand glides down your stomach, under your thin sleeping shorts, and makes contact with your core.

God, your pussy is hot, your fingers are hot- 

You groan a little, throwing your head back and adjusting the wet cloth to put it over your face, hoping to muffle your sounds a little and cool the skin of your burning cheeks.

Rubbing your clit distracts you from the heat if you focus hard enough, so you put all of your energy into that. You feel yourself start to relax a little, but you’re sweating where your forearm is resting along your hip. 

You can only get yourself so close to the edge without getting annoyed, so you pull your hand from your shorts with a sigh of frustration.

You lie there for a couple of minutes, and then you furiously get out of bed, stomping to your door to head to the kitchen.

You raid the freezer, finding some ice, and you plop a cube into your mouth while you begin to drag another across your body, groaning a little at the feeling of cold water dripping down your skin as the ice melts from the heat of you.

This could work… but it would be a mess, especially if you took it to your bedroom. Would the hardwood floors ever recover from multiple drip spots?

Another groan of annoyance has you collecting a bowl of ice and taking it to the tiled bathroom, where you sit on the edge of the tub and start rubbing your skin again in the dark.

You just feel oversensitized, and the shitty light in the bathroom wouldn’t do you any favours, so you relish the darkness, where you slowly find reprieve through the ice you drag across your body.

You tease your collarbones, enjoying the way that water drips down the front of your shirt, tantalizing your nipples and making them pebble.

You throw your head back, drawing the ice along your neck as more beads of water cascade down the front of your shirt, like dripping diamonds from an expensive necklace.

That’s when the door creaks open and you jump.

“Oh,” Mingyu stops. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here… what are you doing in here in the dark?” 

“Don’t turn the light on-”

It’s too late, he’s already flipping the switch, and then your best friend is staring at you sitting on the edge of the tub, your white tank top wet and clinging to your chest where your pebbled nipples press against the fabric.

“I’m just trying to cool off,” you explain, quickly covering your chest and choking on the ice cube that you still have in your mouth.

“Why don’t you have a cold shower?”

“I was working up to it,” you sigh with annoyance.

“And why are the lights off?”

“I’m overstimulated!” 

“Am I asking too many questions?”

“Yes!” you blurt out.

Mingyu stares at you, and you notice the way he swallows thickly. You see his gaze dip a little toward your chest, and your skin heats all over. 

Is he… checking you out?

You know the heat is making you feel some kind of way, but is it affecting him too? 

Mingyu turns off the lights again. “I uh… I should leave you alone.”

“I mean, did you need to use the bathroom?” you ask, not wanting him to go just yet.

“I was considering a cold shower,” Mingyu admits sheepishly.

Your muscles tighten, and you feel very much like a cat waiting to pounce. Is now the time to rip the band-aid off? You’ve spent years holding in your attraction to your best friend… is a heatwave the time to express yourself? When tensions are as high as the nonexistent temperature on your stupid fucking broken ass thermostat? 

“Mingyu?” you ask.

“Yes?” His response is quick, too quick, and you notice the way he’s fidgeting, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wants to look elsewhere - perhaps down at your chest - but is trying very hard to fight the urge.

“Maybe… we should have a cold shower together,” you tell him, your entire body heating up again despite the cold ice cube wedged in your cheek.

“Together?” he chokes out.

“Listen, maybe it’s the heat making me… irritated, but I just… I can’t pretend right now that I’m not attracted to you. And I know you’re my best friend, you’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know this jeopardizes that, but fuck, I’m so hot, and you’re so hot, and fuck it, maybe we should give this a shot.”

The words come out of you before you can stop them, a jumbled mess. All of your emotions have just been poured out to your best friend, and all he can do is stand there and stare at you.

“You think I’m hot?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I have eyes, Gyu,” you laugh.

He fidgets. “Why did you never say anything?” 

“I didn’t want to wreck our friendship, and… based on how you’re reacting, now I’m getting scared,” you cough awkwardly.

“Don’t be scared,” Mingyu tells you, letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair. “I just… I wish one of us would have spoken up sooner.”

“Huh?” You gape at him in shock.

“You were my first crush, when we met on the playground when we were like six,” Mingyu admits, and even in the dim light of the bathroom, you can see his ears turning red. “And then we became friends and I realized you were also the best person I knew, so I just… never said anything, and was happy to be just friends.”

“I was your first crush?” you squeak.

“It sounds kind of lame,” he says awkwardly.

“Mingyu, you were my first crush, too. Have we both been into each other this whole time but holding back for the sake of friendship?” Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, and you stare up at your big best friend. “Are we both stupid or something?”

You can’t help but laugh, and he joins you with a chuckle of his own. “I think we’re both just cautious and respectful, that’s not a bad thing.”

“So… you’ll have a cold shower with me?” you grin, standing up, and swallowing the tiny shard of ice that was still in your mouth.

“I’ll do more than just shower with you, if you want,” Mingyu responds, swallowing thickly.

You hold out your hands for him, and Mingyu lets you tug him toward you. He looks down at you, and in the shade of the bathroom, you can still see the apprehension, the longing, in his expression. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper, reaching up to cup his face.

His cheek is warm, and Mingyu lets out a sigh, pressing against your palm, which is when you realize this is the hand you’d been dragging ice across your body with, so your skin must be cooler and nice against his hot form.

You watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, and then he leans forward, closing the minuscule distance that’s kept you from each other for so many years.

Mingyu releases a groan immediately, and it’s as if the flood gates burst open. Suddenly, you’re both all over each other, tongues fighting, hands grabbing.

All of the lust that has built up for your best friend comes crashing down on you, filling your body with a fire that rivals that of the heatwave.

His hands find your bare thighs, and he lifts you up, forcing your legs around his hips while he kisses you desperately.

God, the sounds he’s making go straight to your throbbing core, and you clutch onto his shoulders. He sets you down on the sink vanity, and you keep your legs wrapped around him, unwilling to let go despite the heat that is beginning to rise between your forms.

You sense Mingyu reaching for something, and when something cold makes contact with your collar bone, you realize he’d seen your bowl of ice. He traces it along your body, making you sigh with relief, your head tilting back to give him more access.

Then, Mingyu does something unexpected, he puts a piece of ice between his lips too, and uses that to drag along your throat. You gasp at how good it feels, threading your fingers through his hair to keep his head close to your neck, where he continues to stimulate you.

Meanwhile, his hand drags the ice down, and the water droplets it leaves in its wake drip down your shirt.

Your nipples are pebbled again, and you arch your back, pushing your chest toward your best friend. 

Mingyu reads you like the back of his hand, and he tugs down your tank top, finally exposing your breasts.

He drags the ice along your nipple, circling it and making you whine desperately.

Mingyu groans as he continues on your throat, but the ice in his mouth is small enough now that he sucks it into his own cheek, his cool lips now pressing kisses along your neck. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, grabbing at his own shirt, which he allows you to tug off of him.

The brief moment where you separate to remove the fabric has your desperation going into overdrive, and you immediately latch onto each other again, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss whose flames are muted by the ice still in his mouth.

Fuck it feels good to be kissing cool lips, and the contrast of hot and cold has your core getting wetter by the second.

Mingyu continues to fondle your breasts, and you moan against his lips, beginning to wiggle your hips as an invitation.

Just like every other time he’s read your mind through your wordless motions, Mingyu pulls away, gasping.

Then, with his eyes locked on yours, he sinks to his knees against the tiled bathroom floor.

With one rough tug, he tears your sleeping shorts off your body, so now the only thing covering your form is your thin white tank top.

You stare down at him, heart racing at the view as he begins to kiss up your legs with cold lips.

When his mouth reaches your core, you begin to pant from the feeling of his breath on your most sensitive area. Then, Mingyu licks your pussy, and your entire body surges with pleasure.

You throw your head back, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair, anchoring him to your core.

Mingyu clearly doesn’t mind your somewhat forceful motions, and he groans as he dives in to eating you out.

He’s always been a foodie, but you didn’t realize his love for eating would be applicable in the bedroom - or bathroom in this case - as well. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp when he begins to suck on your clit, his cold tongue flicking your sensitive bud deliciously.

It’s been a long time since you had sex. You had tried dating once or twice throughout high school and university, but it was always made impossible due to your need to compare every romantic partner to Mingyu. Your best friend has always treated you so well that no man has ever been able to stand next to him in that way, and now, you realize no man has ever eaten you out like this either.

It’s yet another mark on Mingyu’s resume of being the best man you’ve ever met, and it makes your heart swell as your best friend eats you out like his life depends on it.

“I’m close,” you whimper, panting as your muscles tighten.

Mingyu’s fingers grip your thighs tighter, and he sucks on your clit with even more fervour. You can feel sweat beginning to accumulate on your clavicle, but there’s something so erotic about having sex with your best friend for the first time during a hot and sticky heatwave.

“Fuck, fuck-” you bite at your lip, hardly able to contain your whimpers as you tip over the edge. Your pussy throbs desperately, clinging around nothing while Mingyu laps you through your high.

Your toes curl from the intensity of it, your body shaking as your muscles scream at you to pull away from this mind numbing pleasure, but you refuse to push Mingyu away, you want the full sensation of him, after all, it took you both long enough to get to this situation.

You’re gasping when Mingyu finally pulls away, and he stands up, looking down at you.

“Cold shower?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

He reaches for his shorts, and you reach for your shirt. A moment later, you’re both fully naked, and one look at you has Mingyu practically growling. He’s on you again before you can blink, his lips hot and desperate against yours.

Your thighs wrap around his hips, and your hand sneaks down to grab his cock, which you can feel is aching in your palm.

“Fuck me,” you tell him, biting at his bottom lip as you line him up with your wet hole. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Mingyu groans, panting as he rests his forehead against your own. Then, with one motion, he slowly begins to slide into you.

You gasp at the stretch, your hands flying to his shoulders to keep yourself steady while your body tries to acquiesce to such a massive cock.

“If it’s too much-” he chokes.

“No, push it all the way in, fuck, I need you so bad,” you whimper, on the verge of tears from all the emotions flooding through you.

“Okay.” He nods, swallowing a lump in his throat as he slowly sinks all the way into you.

You both groan when he’s fully sheathed, and you pull his lips to yours again, letting him eat up your sounds of pleasure.

Mingyu wraps an arm around your lower back, one hand finding your thigh, and then he lifts you off the sink vanity, carrying you to the shower while balls deep in your aching core.

Even amidst the kisses, he’s able to turn the water on, and after testing it with his fingers, he steps into the enclosed space, holding you tight to his burning body.

You let out a squeal when the cold water hits your form, but within seconds, it’s a welcome reprieve. The shower is a contrast to Mingyu’s body, which radiates heat as you kiss, and he presses you back against the tiled wall, which also helps cool you down.

He pins you in a way that makes it easy to use leverage, and then, he begins to thrust.

You can feel your pussy stretching with each motion, and you are unable to hold in your whines and moans as he fucks you. You can see him losing control, and you can feel it in the way his thrusts become erratic, as if he’s chasing a feeling he never thought he’d be able to obtain.

You thread your fingers through his hair, gasping when his lips make contact with your throat.

“Feels so good, Gyu,” you whimper.

He groans in response, and you realize he has a thing for praise.

“Fucking me so fucking good,” you continue, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of pleasure already beginning to bubble up inside of your core again.

“I love your sounds,” Mingyu moans, his lips moving to your ear where he sucks your lobe between hot lips. 

You release a whimper, clinging desperately to his shoulders.

“This is better than I ever imagined,” he admits, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in his tone that makes your core tighten around him. “You have no idea.. How long… how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Me too, Gyu,” you assure him, nuzzling against his cheek to prompt him to pull back and look at you. “And now, we never have to go back to holding ourselves away from each other. We can do this as much as we want.”

Mingyu’s lips part, his thrusts faltering slightly, and then he pulls out of you, setting you on the slippery shower floor and turning you so your back is to his chest.

“There’s always something I’ve wanted to try,” Mingyu groans in your ear, and he grabs the removable handheld shower head he’d installed two years back. He pushes you slightly over, entering you from behind, and then his free arm braces across your chest to keep you standing while he brings the shower head to your clit.

The cold water stimulates your sensitive bud, making you cry out and grasp his forearm like an anchor keeping you standing.

“Feels good, baby?” he asks, his breath ghosting past your ear and making you shiver as cold water droplets drip down your body.

“So good, Gyu,” you cry out, your eyes clenching shut when he begins to fuck you again, using the shower head as a type of vibrating water pressure tool on your clit.

“I only ever want to make you feel good,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your throat.

Your body jolts, your core tightening, and you can’t find the words to tell him you’re close to an orgasm, but you don’t have to. His pace increases, his moans getting louder in your ear, and the two of you are so in tune with each other, that the moment your pussy clamps down on his cock, your orgasm ravaging through your body, you feel him reach his release as well.

The two of you cum together, gasping and clutching at one another, the cool water unrelenting on your aching, hot core.

It’s the best, most unexpected and imaginative orgasm you’ve ever had, and it makes your legs feel like jelly as Mingyu finally stops thrusting.

The two of you are panting in the dark shower, and his grip on you in the only thing keeping you upright.

“Here,” Mingyu says, swallowing a lump in his throat as he slowly pulls out of you.

Your legs continue to shake, and he holds you while he uses the shower head to wash you off, any fluid remnants remaining in your body washing down the drain as he carefully provides aftercare.

You can’t find words yet, so you simply let him take care of you, helping you out of the shower once you’re both clean so he can wrap a towel around your form.

He even carries you back to your room once he’s dried you off, and you collapse onto the bed. Curling up against his chest makes you realize you’re both sufficiently cooled from the shower, his skin a pleasant temperature as you cuddle close.

Mingyu strokes your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head while you find your voice.

“Gyu?” you ask finally.

“Yeah?”

“Is it too early to say I love you?”

He laughs. “No, because I love you too.”

“Thank fucking God,” you chuckle, and with that, you doze off into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had since the start of this whole ‘curse of Mother nature’ heat wave fiasco. You’re at peace knowing that this feels right, there’s no apprehension, no risk of the two of you losing each other.

You can be with your best friend, fully, the way you’ve always wanted to be with him, and all it took was a once-in-ten-years, global warming meets bullshit old air conditioner.  

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! meant to post this a touch sooner but life has been busy as heck

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🔮 preview.  The first time you’d had sex, water and temperature had been key elements, and tonight is the first official night of your honeymoon, so it feels fitting to be submerged in a hot tub amidst a frozen forest when you begin kissing your husband’s skin.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, outdoor sex, hottub sex, exhibitionism, pining, body worship, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, manhandling, big dick!Mingyu, newlywed honeymoon sex, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.1k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

You’d finally expressed your deepest feelings to Mingyu during a heatwave, so when you begin to plan your honeymoon in the wake of an engagement, it feels counterintuitive to choose somewhere tropical.

You’ve both grown a slight disdain for locations that are simply too hot, and there’s something charming about the winter wonderland cold destination honeymoons you look up online.

“Are you guys seriously going to fucking Norway for your Honeymoon?” Seungcheol asks one day while you drink and hangout in his apartment.

“Norway, Sweden, and Finland,” Mingyu corrects. 

“Think Northern Lights, igloos, dog sledding, that sort of thing,” you chime in with a grin, cuddling closer to your official boyfriend of four years.

“Sounds horrible,” Soonyoung groans. “I’d much rather go to Bora Bora or something.”

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