hhu girly x

“Put your hands behind your back. Now,” a low voice orders sternly, but there’s not enough time for you to even consider obeying before you’re grabbed and your hands forced behind your back. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

You crane your neck in an attempt to see your assailant. “What the hell… Gguk?”

He laughs as he lets you go, and as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.

He’s decked out head to toe in police uniform and gear, and not the dark blue one regular police officers wear, but the black one used by the special forces.

“What do you think? Can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do cop,” he grins, and your heart clenches when you see him smile so excitedly his dark eyes twinkle.

“How did I miss this?” you wonder, making no effort to hide your wandering eyes. He asked for your opinion after all.

It’s not uncommon for Jeon Jeongguk to look hot. After all, he’s a porn star so dressing his already handsome self in panty-dropping outfits is quite literally the point. And you’ve seen it all, well at least you think you have now.

You weren’t into thighs until you met Jeongguk. Actually, that could be said about almost all of the male body. You were attracted to guys, but as a whole. The difference is that although Jeongguk is most definitely a masterpiece in his entirety, you’re also attracted to every little part of him.

Like his thighs, currently straining the fabric of the black pants. As you take more of him in, like the black vest with ‘POLICE’ written on it, over a just as black jacket. Or the black cap on his head that instead has ‘SOU’ marked on it. The dark hair that’s usually framing his face or forehead in some way is pushed away by it, enhancing his strong, dark eyebrows.

The worst part is probably that he’s got the sleeves of the jacket pushed up, exposing his veiny forearms, one of which is inked down to his knuckles. From his belt, he’s taking a set of handcuffs to twirl casually around his finger, his other hand resting on a holster.

When you look up again, he’s waiting with a confident grin.

“You look hot,” you smirk, “I mean, you always look sexy, but they’ve definitely missed out not having you as a cop.”

“Right? And you’re my first arrest since you were late.”

“I wasn’t late, just later than usual,” you defend before lifting your arm to glance at your watch.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing that although you weren’t technically late, you still have a lot less time to get ready than what you’re used to.

Hurriedly, you reach for Jeongguk, your hands finding purchase on the straps of the vest and pulling him to you.

“And what’s this now?” he smirks, gazing down at you as you unbutton his pants. “Assault on police officer?”

“Ha ha, very funny, but c’mon, get your dick out, we need to get you ready.”

“Relax. We’ve got time. Director got here not even twenty minutes ago, apparently there’s been issues with the subways all morning.”

Your hands stop, and you lift your head to look around once more. And yeah, Jeongguk’s right, people are still running around, fixing things.

He’s smiling warmly when you meet his eyes. “Also, I’m always like at least half hard already when you’re around.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. Your right hand moves to toy with the velcro strap on the front of the vest. “Did you sleep well?”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond immediately, he just gives you a knowing, amused look.

“What? You said you found it hard to fall asleep on Sundays?”

“I did, didn’t I?” he sighs, still smiling as he gestures toward a couch placed next to the table with coffee and snacks. “I slept well, though. I promise. I’m well rested.”

You follow him, sitting down and turning toward him. “Good.”

For around twenty more minutes, you sit on that couch, just talking. Sometimes, despite the costumes and occasionally odd background sounds, it’s easy to forget that you’re at work. That Jeongguk is actually a porn star—a very popular one—and that you’re hired as his fluffer, essentially his assistant whose focus is mostly to keep him hard and performing.

“So, how’s today’s script? Oscar worthy?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Uh, almost. I’m bringing my victim to the cell and “punish” her by giving her the fuck of her life. You know, the usual,” he grins lazily, leaning fully against the backrest. It has you rolling your eyes. “Tried to convince them to have her cuff me to the cell instead and make a run for it, but they didn’t get my vision.”

Somewhere, you hear the director, a middle aged woman, call out that there are ten minutes left, and so you scoot closer to Jeongguk.

“Sad,” you agree, tapping his belt with your fingers, “maybe one day they’ll see you for the cinematic genius you are.”

He unbuckles the belt and unzips the black pants, revealing white Calvin Klein boxers. 

“By the way, who’s your co-star?”

You crane your neck to look around the room once more, your hand dipping below the waistband of Jeongguk’s underwear and gripping him.

“Irene,” he grunts.

“Oh. I don’t know who that is,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on what you pull out of his pants. Funnily enough, he is half hard and warm in your hand already.

“You don’t know anyone in the industry except for me. You don’t even watch porn.”

“I know a lot of the women you’ve worked with, actually.”

You set a slow pace, having had a lot of time to learn how to make the process as comfortable as possible for him. The goal is to get him hard and keep him there for as long as it takes to start filming without getting him too close or tease him too much. So the result is a firm grip and slow pumps of his cock, your hand twisting over the head occasionally. And Jeongguk likes it, his entire body relaxes, and his breathing deepens.

“Name two,” he raises his eyebrow at you, and you meet his eyes.

“Uh… Irene… and, uh…”

He watches you knowingly, but you’re determined to prove him wrong. “And… Seulgi…?”

“Fine.”

“Also, I watch porn literally three times a week.”

He rolls his eyes, “You being here three times a week doesn’t count. Besides, you’re always reading something or working.”

“You know maybe I should talk to whoever comes up with all these concepts and ideas because I think you don’t do nearly enough submissive roles. I feel like someone should definitely fuck the brat out of you.”

He groans when you pinch the head of his cock slightly. “I do a lot more sub roles than the average male adult actor.”

“I know. I’m just saying I think they let you off too easy.”

Without really thinking about it, you’ve moved closer to him. It’s what always happens, wherever you are, no matter if you’re standing in a corner or sitting on the couch, you pull each other in until you’re inches and whispers away.

His eyes fall to your mouth for a second. Usually, when the position allows it better than this one, he holds your waist or your thighs or arms. But he’s not allowed to touch you more than that, isn’t supposed to kiss you either. 

When you started–and before you met him–you signed a contract, and they asked for your boundaries and preferences. Better safe than sorry, you checked the box where you’re willing to touch your actor if you feel okay doing it, but you don’t want to have sex in any way or be touched in a sexual manner.

And you could’ve changed it, could’ve asked for a new contract to sign, but honestly, you’re glad you signed what you did. As Jeongguk watches you with half-lidded eyes, his big hand warming your thigh through your jeans, and his cock twitching slightly in your hold, you’re living dangerously enough as it is.

He kissed you once. It was in the heat of the moment, and he apologized profusely afterward, and sure, you could’ve admitted to him that you liked it and how it was probably your favorite kiss ever, but all you did was assure him it was okay and you weren’t mad or anything.

If you want to stay relatively sane, you need to have a line drawn. Otherwise Jeongguk will move inside your head and he won’t leave, and that’s not preferable when he isn’t yours and can’t be.

“Jeon! You ready?”

Used to the interrupting voice, you start to move away from him, his rock hard cock bouncing when you let go of it.

“Yeah. On my way,” he replies, moving his hand from your thigh to tuck himself back in his pants as well as he can. A second after he rises from the couch, Wendy swoops in and dabs something on his face and readjusts the cap on his head.

“Hey, I was thinking of running down to Subway for lunch, want me to get you something?” you call after Jeongguk who turns around, Wendy standing on her toes and moving his jaw to inspect his makeup.

“Yeah, sure. The usual? My wallet’s in the pocket of my jacket.”

“I used your card last time though, so I’ll pay this time.”

He narrows his eyes at you but there’s not much he can do as he’s being dragged away.

You’ve long since learned to somewhat tune out the sounds of people having loud sex. You usually bring your laptop, and at first, you used it to get some (quiet) schoolwork done, but now that you’ve graduated and found a full time job–which luckily enough, you can do a lot of remotely–you’re doing that instead.

At first, it was incredibly hard, and you found yourself feeling… almost flustered whenever you heard Jeongguk’s voice order his costar around or his moans or even pleas. Even worse when you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking a glance over your laptop screen. If Jeongguk is beautiful in any costume, he’s even more irresistible naked. You try not to think too much about it or, again, you can practically say goodbye to your sanity.

At the moment, you’ve placed your laptop on your thighs, but you keep it closed while you observe the scene from behind all the lights and microphones and cameras. It’s alright while everyone’s still dressed, and you do enjoy watching Jeongguk act, even if the scripts are a little cheesy sometimes.

Currently, he’s got Irene pressed against the bars of a cell as he cuffs her hands behind her back. In reality, it’s probably at that moment he’s supposed to uncuff her if anything, but who cares, it’s porn.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions sternly as she starts to “innocently” feel for him with her hands, his crotch being at the perfect height.

“Nothing,” she says, looking at him seductively over her shoulder while still tracing his cock over his pants. “But officer, I think I’d prefer a different punishment…”

Both Irene and Jeongguk are exceptional actors, being able to keep straight faces at lines like that. You, sitting on the couch at the back, have to close your eyes and put a hand over your mouth just in case a laugh tries to escape.

However the comedy ends when Irene, still handcuffed, is on her knees in front of Jeongguk and pulling at the zipper of his pants with her teeth. You don’t look more than a brief glance here and there as she chokes on his cock, or when he’s got her on her back on a desk, eating her out like his life depends on it. Nor do you watch as he fucks her against the bars, or in any position, really. 

“Cut!”

Immediately, you shut your laptop and place it beside you on the couch, reaching for the white robe you hung over the armrest earlier. It’s a very sweaty and even more naked Jeongguk that walks off the set and toward you. On the way, he removes the condom and discards it in a nearby trash can. It’s not because it’s full and he’s soft or because he finds them uncomfortable, because he’s definitely still at full mast, but he knows you definitely prefer touching him raw than over a used condom. 

“Long or short break? I didn’t quite hear,” you ask him when he takes the robe from your hands. While he puts it on, you reach for a water bottle, handing that to him as well.

“Short, there was a problem with the mic, I think.”

“Hm, okay. Doing good?”

He grins at your question, unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig. “Yeah. You? Getting anything done?”

You look back at the laptop where it lies forgotten on the couch. “A bit, actually. But it’s a little hard to focus sometimes with how loud you’re moaning,” you tease.

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm. So what’s the status, are you soft yet?” you ask, pulling him closer by the robe.

“Didn’t I say I’m always at least half hard when you’re around?”

You chuckle. Although it’s a game to keep him hard and turned on, you don’t hate it. True to his word, Jeongguk is very much still hard when you sneak your hand inside the robe. Sound guys walk through the set, and so you move toward the back corner of the room so as to not be in the way.

You continue the same kind of handjob you did earlier, but when you see people making calls and seeming a bit too irritated, you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at Jeongguk.

“This looks like it might take a while; you sure you want to continue?”

The option to just let him go soft isn’t very popular, you know that, but you’re not so sure how nice it is to essentially be edged for too long either. Orgasming is also pretty much out of the picture since you don’t know how long he’d have to recuperate, and you’re pretty sure they want a big cumshot scene.

“It’s up to you. I think I’ll hold out a bit longer, and although I do like it when you do it, I can do it myself if you prefer that?”

Every trace of the teasing Jeongguk is gone and left is just a warm smile and a gentle tilt of his head. He looks so incredibly sweet and kind. 

You shake your head, smiling back, “Just let me know if you change your mind, we don’t know how long it’ll take.”

Luckily, it only takes another ten minutes before Wendy comes knocking on Jeongguk’s shoulder where he stands, his arm against the wall and trapping you against it. You’re still jerking him off slowly, but except for his breaths–every one almost like a sigh–you wouldn’t be able to tell. 

“We’ll continue this later?” Jeongguk looks at you hopefully as he’s ripping open a new condom with his teeth to roll over his cock, “I wanna hear more about your project. And I also think you should tell them about this job, I think it’s pretty cool.”

You chuckle at his smirk. “No offense, but this job is weird. Not something I typically bring up among colleagues.”

It wasn’t even a job you actively applied for. Your previous neighbor was Jeongguk’s stylist, a job she quit when she moved away a year ago. You were pretty good friends, and when the entire subway system was down once, you took it upon yourself to drive her. She knew you were looking for a part time job and also that Jeongguk was looking for a new assistant, so she recommended it to you.

At first, you declined, but she was very clear that you would not have to partake in anything sexual unless you wanted to and no one would look at you weird for not doing it either. Additionally, the actor was supposed to be a real sweetheart. Which honestly is why you’re still here even after graduating and getting a full time job. 

You and Jeongguk continue talking over lunch, sitting on the same couch at the back of the room as earlier. He then goes to shower, having finished the shoot, only to start planning for the next one since he’s taking two days off for a family member’s wedding out of town.

You stay as long as he does, talking to Wendy who’s been running between sets to fill in for another stylist, but the moment after Jeongguk has pulled on his leather jacket and left the room with a warm smile your way, she turns to you.

“Ask him out,” she groans quietly but dramatically, “you’re making everyone else frustrated at this point.”

You blink in surprise. Sure, she’s hinted at you liking him before, but she’s never been this straightforward. 

“What?” you reach for your own jacket from the coat rack. “I don’t think he likes me like that. If he did, he would’ve asked me out, we both know him.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be that stupid. You signed a contract saying you don’t want him to touch you, and although he’s not your boss, there’s definitely a power imbalance here. He would, but he doesn’t want to put you in that kind of situation.”

You’ve never really thought about it like that before. Yeah, you know what your contract could signal, but you signed that before you even met him. The power imbalance though, you never really considered that.

“I know that you like him, and he’s obviously in love with you. I mean, you spend every free second on set together. Sure, you keep him hard and such, but as soon as he can, he goes to you, and you retreat into your own little world, just the two of you. And you care way more about him than I’ve seen any other assistant care for their actors.”

You zip up your jacket, then meet Wendy’s eyes sadly. “I do like him, I think he’s… great and really sweet, but… he’s a porn star, Wendy.”

That’s the thing. You never even really entertain the idea of the two of you together for real, because on the off chance that he’s as attracted to you as you are to him, you can’t handle his profession.

Knowing that having sex with other women day in and day out is what pays his bills doesn’t work for you. It makes you feel superficial and shallow for even thinking about it, but the worry it would put into you? Not knowing if he falls for a costar, if he prefers them over you? It would feel like cheating even if you don’t think Jeongguk is the type of man to cheat. And don’t you have the right to feel that way, isn’t it valid to not want your significant other to sleep with others? 

Wendy bites her lip looking at you like she understands. 

“I just… can’t. Not a porn star.”

“I get it, I just think it’s a shame,” she says, lifting her bag to reveal a small box on the floor.

“Oh, aren’t those Jeongguk’s?” you say, bending down to pick it up, “I’m pretty sure these are his earbuds.”

“They must’ve slipped his pocket,” Wendy concludes.

It’s a warm, sunny day when you step out of your apartment building and head toward the subway. Almost the entire journey, you think about Jeongguk and how you’re looking forward to seeing him again since it’s been a few days. Your hand squeezes the earbuds in the pocket of your denim jacket.

You ride the elevator to the reception, smiling when you spot Yeri behind the monitor. 

“Hey, could you tell me where Jeongguk is? I can’t remember which set it is today?” you ask, coming to stand in front of the desk and leaning your hands on it.

Yeri, working mostly as the big boss’ assistant and sometimes filling in as receptionist, clicks on the computer.

“Yeah, they’re in… A20, but, uh… listen, I was told to tell you that you’ve been moved to another actor. If that’s alright with you, both Jimin and Taehyung are looking, Jimin for a fluffer and Taehyung only for an assistant, so you can choose if you want to.”

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. “Moved? From Jeongguk? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t think so, there at least isn’t any sort of report or complaint, but as you know, we let the actors decide who they want and allow them to switch, no questions asked.”

“Yeah, I know that, but… I just don’t get why he would…” you trail off, going through the last time you met him in your head. 

He was happy. You were happy.

Yeri looks at you with empathy. “You can take the day off if you want to think about it. You’ll still get paid. Or you can visit the guys to see if anyone’s a fit if you’d like?”

Heartbroken, you blink as you try to regain your senses. “I… I think I’ll just head home.”

“Understandable. I wish you a nice day.”

You smile back at her before turning around and with slow steps, approach the elevator. What just happened? Jeongguk… switched you out?

Why?

You put your hands into your pockets as you step back inside the elevator, sighing when you feel the outline of Jeongguk’s earbuds. So, instead of pressing the button for ground floor, you press the 2.

You’ve been on set A20 before, but it was a while ago. It’s a set meant to look just like a regular home, and you think the last time you were there, Jeongguk was playing some sort of handyman or electrician or something.

Reaching for your keycard, you hold it to the reader until the light turns green and the door unlocks with a click. You wouldn’t have entered if it weren’t still so early, knowing they definitely haven’t started shooting yet. But since there’s a relatively low risk of you walking in on someone fucking or something, you open the door.

There’s movement inside as usual. People are fixing the set and equipment, talking to each other, and moving around. That’s when you spot him. 

He’s standing in front of Wendy, in nothing but a pair of baggy jeans, as she’s trying to decide on a shirt for him, holding a white t-shirt in front of him before repeating it with a black one and seemingly settling on the latter. You can’t really tell what the script is about, and you weren’t really listening last time, but you don’t care.

Somewhat… nervously, you take a step toward them, letting a small but polite smile pull on your lips when Jeongguk happens to turn his head and spot you. His eyes widen, and you watch as he says something to Wendy, who also turns her head. Does she know why he decided to switch you out?

“Hey,” you start quietly when he’s gotten close enough, Wendy taking the hint and leaving inconspicuously. “You dropped these last time.”

He peers down at your outstretched hand with the earbuds resting in the middle.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you say as he takes them from you to put in the pocket of his jeans. “Jeongguk… Can I ask… Did something happen? Did I do something?”

He looks down at the floor briefly before meeting your eyes. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just… decided that I can’t continue working with you like this because I… I have feelings for someone.”

You didn’t think your heart could break like this because of the man in front of you, but something definitely cracks inside your chest.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were… seeing someone? Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask carefully.

“I’m not. At least not yet; it’s pretty new, still. But I hope you can understand that I can’t…”

“Yeah, no, of course. I get it,” you nod. 

Suddenly, he smiles gently, “But I heard both Jimin and Tae were looking for someone, and I know either one of them would be happy to have you.”

“Yeah, sure. Look, I gotta go, but good luck with… her? Him?”

“Her.”

You smile, “Good luck with her, I’m rooting for you.”

“Thank you.”

Your smile falls the second you turn away from him. It hurts to know that he’s in love with someone else, but you had your chance, at least to see if he was interested at all, and you didn’t take it. The worst thing is probably knowing that you wouldn’t have acted differently if you had the chance to rewind.

You’re not mad at him, and you truly do wish him luck. It makes sense that he doesn’t feel comfortable being so close to someone else if he’s in love. You’re not really sure what he thinks about still starring in porn, but it’s not your decision to make.

“Still here?”

“Yeah, I just had to return something to someone. But can you do me a favor, Yeri?”

“Sure what is it?” she says, peering at you curiously and resting her chin on her hand.

You breathe in, feeling sad but not very hesitant. “Since my conditions changed, essentially without my input, I can quit on the spot, right? I don’t need the two week notice?”

She smiles sadly at you, “Yeah, you’re right. Do you want to fill out the form right now?”

“Yes, please.”

<previous | next>

Seungcheol is forty-seven minutes deep into this video call and he has absorbed precisely none of it. His manager's voice comes through the headset like a monotone hum. He can swear this woman's voice is designed to sandpaper the edges of his sanity. On screen, a grid of eight faces, all feigning attention, and his own small rectangle in the corner shows a man who hasn't blinked in thirty seconds because he's too busy tracking a silhouette moving past the doorway.

That's you. Just a flicker of movement—bare legs, the hem of an oversized t-shirt he knows is his, the soft grey one you stole three months ago and never gave back—and his concentration detonates. His cock twitches against his thigh, a slow, traitorous swell that has nothing to do with whatever the hell his manager is droning on about.

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight, and tilts his head just enough to catch a sliver of the kitchen through the gap in the doorframe. You're at the counter now, back to him, reaching to open the microwave. The t-shirt stretches, outlining the curve of your butt. Suddenly, the fabric rides up as you tiptoe to grab something from the cupboard above and the very bottom of your ass peeks out, bare and soft-looking, and he has to swallow a sound that would get him fired.

"—and moving forward, I think we need to restructure our code reviews which are taking two days on average," his manager drones, and Seungcheol wants to scream. Fuck them code reviews. He's going to lose his mind. He's going to combust in this ergonomic chair and they'll find him as nothing but a pile of ash and a half-hard dick.

His fingers drum against the armrest. He risks another glance. You're bent over now, rummaging in the fridge, and the t-shirt has ridden up so high he can see the crease where your thigh meets your ass. Seungcheol knows exactly how that crease tastes. He knows the sound you make when he presses his tongue flat against it and drags upward. He knows the way you shudder, the way your hand fists in his hair, the way you always whisper his name in a mix of a curse and a prayer.

Fuck. His cock is fully hard now, a rigid line trapped in his sweatpants and boxer briefs in a way that's becoming painful. He shifts in his seat, trying to find relief, and accidentally knocks his knee against the underside of his desk with a dull thud that makes his microphone—that he forgot to mute—spike.

"You okay there, Seungcheol?" His manager's voice cuts through, and for one horrifying second his heart stops. But he quickly realises that it's just the noise that drew her attention. Just the thud.

"Yeah, fine," he says, and his voice comes out strained, a little too tight. "Just—hit my knee on the table."

He mutes himself. Lets out a breath that shakes. Rubs his palm over his face and tries to think about spreadsheets. Deadlines. Anything except you currently being in the kitchen or the way you looked this morning when you rolled out of bed, hair a disaster, his t-shirt swallowing you, and kissed him on the forehead before padding to the bathroom. Domestic shit. Soft, sweet, married-couple shit that still makes his chest ache even now, months in, even after everything.

It's worse now. That's the thing. He thought it would level out—the insatiable, clawing need that's been devouring him since that first drunk night on the couch. He thought once the novelty wore off, once you'd had each other in every conceivable position on every conceivable surface, the fever would break and you'd settle into something manageable. Normal.

It didn't.

It got so much worse.

Last Friday, for instance. You both worked from home. By his generous estimate, you managed three hours of actual productivity between you. The rest of the day dissolved into a blur of skin and sweat and the obscene, wet sound of his cock sliding into you over and over. He bent you over your desk during what was supposed to be a fifteen-minute coffee break and didn't pull out for forty-five. You sucked him off under his desk during a monthly team call on Google Meet, his teeth sinking into his fist and leaving marks just to keep from moaning into an unmuted mic, his eyes watering with restraint of not rolling back into his skull. Seungcheol fucked you against the hallway wall on the way to the bathroom, one hand clamped over your mouth, your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails carving trenches into his shoulders through his shirt. By the end of the day you couldn't walk straight. Neither could he. You ordered pizza and ate it cross-legged on the floor of your living room, half-naked, feeding each other slices and communicating with humms and grunts because forming full thoughts and voicing them felt like mission impossible. And then he got hard again just from watching you lick grease off your thumb, and you let him lay you back on the soft carpet and fill you up again, until you were both too wrecked to move.

So yeah. It didn't level out. It metastasised.

And now it's Tuesday, and he's been on this call for almost an hour, and you are a room away, in the kitchen, heating up leftovers, and his entire body is humming with want. He can smell you from here. He swears he can—that faint, familiar scent of your body wash and underneath it, the warm scent of your skin that makes his mouth water and his brain go syrupy and stupid.

"—so if everyone could have their reports in by Thursday," his manager is saying, finally, mercifully, "that would be great. Any questions? No? Great. Thanks, everyone."

The call ends. Seungcheol doesn't even say goodbye. He yanks the headset off, tosses it onto his desk, and is out of the bedroom before his chair stops spinning.

You hear him coming. He's not particularly secretive about his arrival—the heavy, purposeful tread of a man who spends too much time at the gym and hasn't learned to move quietly in a shared apartment. But you don't turn around. You're standing at the counter, reaching for the microwave handle, when his arms wrap around you from behind and his body folds over yours like a collapsing star.

He's so big. That's the first thing you register, the same thing you register every time—the sheer, enveloping mass of him. His chest presses against your back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of your—his—t-shirt. His arms circle your waist, thick and possessive, and his face buries into the crook of your neck with a sound that can only be described as a whimper.

"You're done?" you ask, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Finally," he mumbles against your skin. His lips move as he speaks, brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you have to suppress a shiver. "Thought she was never going to shut up. I was losing my mind."

"Yeah, I could hear her from here. That voice is something else. Like a sadistic lullaby."

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, his breath warm and damp against your throat. "It's not funny. I was suffering."

"Poor baby." You tilt your head, giving him more access without thinking, your body responding to his proximity the way it always does—on instinct, on autopilot, like your nerve endings have been rewired to recognise him as a primary need. Purely Pavlovian response. "My heart bleeds for you and your very important corporate meeting."

"Don't be mean." He pouts. You can't see his face but you know he's pouting—you can hear it in the way his voice goes soft and petulant, the way his lower lip juts out. "I missed you."

"I was literally a wall away."

"That's a wall too far."

The microwave beeps. You reach for it again, but Seungcheol's hand catches yours first. His fingers slide between yours, locking them together, and he pulls your hand back down, pressing it flat against the counter top. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt and settles on your lower belly, palm warm and broad and possessive.

"Food can wait," he murmurs.

You open your mouth to argue, to tease him about being a needy, insufferable menace, but then his palm presses down. Just a little. Just enough to apply pressure, to make you aware of the heat pooling low in your abdomen, of the way your body responds to him on a level that has nothing to do with conscious thought. An involuntary sound escapes your throat—small, breathy, embarrassing—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.

"That's what I thought," he says, and there's a smile in his voice now, satisfied and soft and infuriating.

His lips find the junction of your neck and shoulder. He kisses you there, slow and open-mouthed, and then his teeth graze your skin and you stop breathing for a second.

"Cheol."

"Mm?"

"You're doing that thing."

"What thing?" He does it again—a gentle scrape of teeth, followed by the wet, soothing press of his tongue—and your knees go weak.

"That thing where you—where you turn me into—" You can't finish the sentence. His lips have found a new spot, just above your collarbone, and he's sucking a bruise into existence with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserves for boss fights in Elden Ring. Your brain fills with static. Your hands grip the edge of the counter. "—into a—fuck."

"Into a what?" He pulls back just long enough to speak, his voice low and rough and dripping with false innocence. "Use your words, baby."

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Kiss. Bite. Suck. "You love it. You love when I make you all dumb and shaky. When I take my time and turn you into a little mess before I've even touched you properly." Another kiss, this one pressed to the shell of your ear. "I know you're clenching even without touching you, baby. You think I'm not aware? Oh, I am. I know your body better than I know my own at this point."

You think of saying something sharp, to cut through the haze and reassert some semblance of control. But Seungcheol is right. He does know your body. He's spent months mapping every inch of it with his hands and his mouth and his cock, learning every spot that makes you gasp, every rhythm that makes you fall apart. And right now, with his palm still pressing on your lower belly and his lips trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the only thing your brain can produce is a stream of increasingly pathetic sounds.

You think, distantly, about the irony of it. Months ago you called him a loser to your friend. You rolled your eyes at his compression shirts and his anime figures and his inability to talk to women. And now here you are, melting into a puddle of need because he's kissing your neck and breathing on you. Your friends have noticed, of course. Because you can't exactly hide it. You walk into every brunch, every cafe meetup, wearing the unmistakable glow of a woman who's getting thoroughly, regularly, devastatingly fucked. Loud and proud as they say.

Seungcheol's fingers have trailed lower while you were lost in thought. They're resting on the waistband of your underwear now, tracing the elastic edge with a maddening lightness that makes your hips twitch.

"Mmm, bet you're so wet already," he murmurs, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the smug, reverent delight. "I haven't even done anything and you're soaking through your panties, aren't you? What am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know," you manage, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathy. "Maybe actually fuck me instead of just talking about it?"

"Impatient." He nips at your earlobe. "I like it."

His fingers dip lower, pressing against you through the damp cotton of your underwear and finding his theory to be true. The pressure is light, teasing, nowhere near enough, and you can feel your pussy clenching and throbbing again, desperate for more, desperate for anything. Behind you, pressed against the curve of your ass, his cock is a hard, insistent weight. He's been half-hard since the call started—you could guess from the way he was squirming in his chair, the way his eyes kept cutting toward the kitchen—but now he's fully erect, thick and hot even through the layers of his sweatpants and your t-shirt that barely covers your ass anymore. He rocks against you, a slow, deliberate grind, and the friction makes you both groan.

"Thought about this the whole call," he says, his voice dropping into that lower register that makes your stomach flip. "Thought about bending you over this counter. Thought about pulling these little panties to the side and sliding into you while you're still trying to heat up your stupid breakfast leftovers. Thought about filling you up so full you'd be leaking me all afternoon while you sit in your meetings pretending to be a professional."

"That's—" You swallow, hard. "That's what you were thinking about? During a work call?"

"Every second." Seungcheol grinds against you again, and this time you can feel the full length of him, the girth that still makes your mouth water even after all these months. "Couldn't focus. Couldn't think about anything except your tight little cunt and how bad I need to be inside it. How bad I need to use it."

He says that and lets out a shameful pathetic mewl.

The word "use" and the desperate sound that escapes him land in your chest and detonate. You know what he's doing—he's working you up, talking filth the way he knows you like, the way that makes you weak and pliant and ready to let him do anything. And normally you would let him. Normally you would let him spin you around, bend you over, and fuck you stupid right here against the kitchen counter, and you would come apart on his cock and thank him for it afterwards.

But thanks to his little pathetic display you're feeling something else. Something sharper. Seungcheol spent an hour squirming in his chair thinking about using you? Fine. But you spent that same hour catching glimpses of him in his stupid soft flannel shirt, his hair messy, his brows furrowed, his plush lips wrapped around his water bottle, and you've been simmering with your own kind of want. And maybe it's the oncoming ovulation hormones, or maybe it's the way he whimpered when he first wrapped his arms around you and mewled just now, but something in you decides that today, you're not going to be the one who gets reduced to a mindless, begging mess.

Today, that's going to be him.

His fingers have slipped under the waistband of your panties now, tracing through your slick folds with a slow, exploratory pressure that makes your breath hitch. He's about to push inside—you can feel the tension in his wrist, the way his breathing has gone ragged against your neck—when you reach around with your free hand and squeeze his cock through his sweatpants.

Hard.

Seungcheol makes a sound you've never heard before. A choked, strangled yelp that's half surprise and half something else entirely. His whole body jerks against you, his hips bucking into your grip, and his fingers freeze where they are.

"What—" he starts, but you squeeze again, and the word dissolves into a whimper.

"Here's what's going to happen, baby," you say, and your voice comes out breathless but somewhat steady. "You're going to take your hand out of my panties. You're going to get on your knees. And you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Got it, hmm?"

Seungcheol doesn't answer immediately. His chest is heaving against your back, his cock throbbing in your grip, and you can feel the war happening inside him—the instinct to take over, to reclaim control, wrestling with the part of him that loves this, the part that goes soft and eager and desperate when you turn the tables.

"Got it?" you repeat, and you twist your wrist just enough to make him gasp.

"Yeah," he breathes, voice going a little higher than usual. "Yeah, okay. Got it."

"Good boy."

The words hit him like a physical blow. You feel the full-body shudder that runs through him, the way his cock kicks against your palm, the way his breathing goes even more ragged and uneven. He pulls his hand out of your panties slowly, reluctantly, and you release your grip on him just long enough for him to step back.

"Strip," you say as soon as you turn around to see him.

He does. He pulls his t-shirt over his head first, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the thick shoulders and defined pecs, the trail of dark hair that runs down his stomach and disappears into the waistband of his sweats. Then his pants go, pushed down over his hips, and his boxers with them, until he's standing naked in the middle of the kitchen with his cock jutting up toward his belly, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking.

You take a moment to look at Seungcheol. It never gets old—the sheer size of him, the thickness, the way his cock curves just slightly, so pretty. The way it twitches under your gaze like it's begging for attention—and you bet it is. The way his balls hang heavy and full, a reminder that he hasn't come since yesterday morning, which in his case means he's already backed up and desperate and so, so easy to break.

"You're so pretty," you murmur, and you mean it. "Look at you. Standing there dripping for me. Such a desperate pathetic mess already and I haven't even touched you."

His cock gives you an eager reaction, twitching and bobbing up and down at your words, and you smile at how it throbs, almost like it's whining and jumping for you to touch it. Seungcheol's ears go red. That very deep, mortified flush that you've been watching since the very first night, except now it makes your chest ache with something tender and possessive instead of irritated. "Baby—"

"On your knees," you order softly, lips stretched in the sweetest of smiles.

He drops so fast you hear his knees hit the tile. You wince, breaking character just for a moment, worried, but Seungcheol doesn't seem to care at all, he is looking up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted, and he is so fucking wreckable in this very moment that it makes your pussy clench and you don't even notice as you slip back into the little play the two of you are orchestrating.

"Please," he whispers, and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. He just knows he needs something, anything, as long as it is from you.

"Please what?" you hum, watching his eyes turn even shinier than before. He's so pretty like this it is unfair. Not for the first time he's giving you aggression urges.

"Please let me taste you. Need to put my mouth on you. I've been thinking about it all morning—thinking about how you taste, how soft and warm you feel on my tongue—please, baby? I need it—"

"Shh." You step forward, close enough that he can smell you again—his nostrils visibly flare when he silently inhales you—and you can feel his exhale ghost against your thighs. "I know. I know you've been a desperate little puppy all morning, couldn't even pay attention to your stupid meeting because you were too busy thinking about my pussy. Isn't that right?"

He nods, frantic, his hands twitching at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing you. You wouldn't mind if he did, to be fair. "Yes. Yes, that's right. Couldn't—couldn't think about anything else. Just you. Just your sweet pussy. Just how bad I wanted to be inside it." He whimpers and squirms on his knees, and his cock twitches again at the image growing vivid in his head.

"And instead you're on your knees." You reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, and tug—not hard enough to hurt, only to tilt his head back and make him look at you. "Because you're not in charge right now. I am. And I decide when you get to touch me. I decide when you get to cum. Understood?"

"Understood." His voice is wrecked already, and you haven't even started.

"Good." You release his hair and hop up onto the edge of the counter, spreading your legs. "Now be a good boy and get to work."

You pat your thigh and Seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. His hands find your thighs, tugging your underwear off with urgent impatience before spreading you wider to make room, and then his mouth is on you and the world dissolves into sensation for both of you.

Seungcheol eats pussy like he's been starving for years and you're the first meal he's been served. His tongue is broad and wet and relentless, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit with a pressure that makes your hips immediately buck against his face. He genuinely moans when he tastes you, like the flavour of your arousal is the best thing he's ever experienced—and the vibration against your clit sends a shockwave up your spine, makes your soles tingle and toes curl.

"Fuck," you breathe, one hand bracing against the counter, the other fisting in his hair. "That's it. That's—right there—"

He stays there. His tongue circles your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, and then his lips close around it and he sucks, and your vision whites out for a second, an involuntary squeal leaving your mouth.

"Oh my god—" you pant, voice getting strained and high-pitched with pleasure.

He hums against you, pleased, and the vibration makes you jolt again. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks, holding you open for him, and his tongue keeps working you in a rhythm that's devastatingly precise. He knows exactly what you like. Of course he does. He's spent months learning your body like a language, and now he's fluent.

But you're not going to let him make you come just yet. You tug on his hair, pulling him back, and he looks up at you with his face slick and shining, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes hazy and half-lidded with want.

"Why'd you stop me?" he whines. "I wasn't done. You taste so good, baby, please let me finish—"

"Because I want to sit on your face."

His eyes go wide. Then darken. His cock, which has been bobbing neglected against his stomach, twitches and throbs visibly, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I want that. Please."

"Get on the floor then."

He lies down on the kitchen tiles without a shred of dignity, his cock standing up like a flagpole, his chest heaving. You slide off the counter and stand over him for a moment, looking down at the picture he makes—this big, muscular man, sprawled on the cold floor, looking up at you like you're the sun and the moon and every star in the sky, his cock leaking all over his own stomach.

"You're so pathetic," you tell him, and you mean it as the highest compliment.

"I know," he breathes. "I'm your pathetic little puppy. Now please—please sit on my face. I need your cunt on my tongue. Need you to smother me with your sweet pussy, baby."

Gosh, you both are so fucking nasty for each other, you chuckle and lower yourself down, kneeling carefully over his head. The first contact of his tongue against your pussy makes you both groan—him from the taste, you from the sensation of his mouth working you open while you settle your full weight onto him. Your thighs bracket his head, and his hands come up to grip your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder, to sit your entire weight on him.

You let Seungcheol work for a while. Let his tongue fuck into you, let his lips close around your clit, let him moan and whimper against your flesh while you rock your hips in slow, lazy circles. But you have other plans for him, so you twist just enough to reach back, your hand finding his cock where it's standing rigid and neglected.

The sound he makes when you wrap your fingers around him is muffled by your pussy, and you feel the desperate, broken groan that vibrates through your entire body. You stroke him slowly, from base to tip, your thumb swiping over the slick, swollen head to collect the precum that's been pooling there just to massage his frenulum and make the man twitch and jerk his hips uncontrollably, losing all pace of his oral ministrations.

"Look at you," you murmur, looking down at him. "So hard for me. So wet. You're dripping all over yourself. Such a pretty mess, hmm."

He can't answer. His mouth is full of your cunt, his tongue buried inside you, and all he can do is whine and buck his hips into your grip, either encouraging or just sensitive.

"Is this what you wanted? When you were sitting in your meeting with your cock all hard and aching? You wanted to be on your back on the kitchen floor, being used like a toy?"

Seungcheol nods frantically, his nose bumping against your clit, and the sensation makes you gasp.

"That's what I thought. You're nothing but a dumb mutt when I get my hands on you. What a sight, huh? A big, strong man reduced to a whimpering mess on the floor. Your friends have no idea, do they? Do they think you're this alpha male now? That you're the cool guy of the group after you bagged me, hmm?” You apply more weight onto his face and Seungcheol groans against you, soft tongue licking deeper into your heat, coaxing a moan out of you. "Should we let them know that you actually love getting on your knees for me? Love being a good puppy for me?"

You twist your wrist on the upstroke, and his hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your grip. He's close. You can feel it in the way his thighs are tensing, the way his breathing has gone ragged and uneven, and the way his tongue has lost its rhythm against your pussy because he can't concentrate on anything except the pleasure you're wringing out of him.

"Are you going to come?" You ask sweetly. "Are you going to spill all over yourself and make a mess like a good little slut?"

He tries to nod again, but you're already pulling your hand away.

"Too bad," you say, and his desperate, wounded keen is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "You don't get to cum until I say so. And I haven't said so."

"Please," he gasps, his mouth finally free of your pussy because you've lifted your hips just enough to look down at him. His face is a mess—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, chin slick with your arousal. "Please, baby, I need to cum. I've been thinking about it all day. I can't—"

"Oh, but you can." You climb off him, and he whines at the loss of contact, his hands reaching for you instinctively. "Get up. Bend me over the counter."

Seungcheol scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips and you snicker, telling him to be careful. His cock is an angry red, throbbing visibly, a steady stream of precum dripping from the tip on every twitch. He looks ruined already, and you haven't even let him inside you yet.

You turn around and brace yourself against the counter, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. You're soaked—your thighs are glistening, your pussy is swollen and dripping with a mix of your juices and his spit, and you know exactly what he's seeing right now.

"Now you can fuck me," you tell him. "Slow. Exactly the way I want it. And you're not going to come. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he breathes, steps closer behind you. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."

He lines himself up. You feel the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and even though you're wet and open and ready, the stretch is still overwhelming. Seungcheol pushes in slowly, inch by inch, spreading your walls, filing the empty space that begged to be filled, and you both groan in unison as he fills you.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're always so tight. How are you still so tight?"

"Shut up and move."

He pulls out almost all the way, making you feel the way his veined shaft drags against your sensitive walls, and then pushes back in. Seungcheol fucks you exactly the way you told him to—slow, deep, each thrust deliberate and measured. His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and you can hear the effort it's taking him to hold back, the way his breathing is coming in ragged gasps, the way he's trembling against you.

"You feel so good," he babbles again. "You feel so fucking good, baby, I can't—I don't know how much longer I can—"

"You can last as long as I tell you to last." But your voice is shaking now too. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every slow, grinding thrust, and you're getting close yourself. "Don't you dare cum without permission. Don't you fucking dare."

"I won't. I won't, I promise, just—please, can I go faster? Please?"

"No. Keep it slow. I want to feel every inch of you."

He whimpers, but he does what he's told. His thrusts stay slow and deep, his cock dragging against your walls, and you can feel the orgasm building in your core, coiling tighter and tighter—

Your phone rings.

Your intuition immediately screams at you that it must be someone from work.

"Fuck," you hiss in half frustration, half panic. "Fuck, Cheol, stop, I have—have to take this—"

You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens. "No," he whines. "No, baby, please, I'm so close, don't stop me—"

Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel bad for the man, he sounds so ruined.

"I'm not asking." You pull yourself off his cock with a wet, obscene sound, and Seungcheol makes a noise like you've stabbed him. His cock bobs in the air, angry and neglected, throbbing and jumping with denied orgasm. A thick strand of your combined fluids connects him to your pussy for a brief moment before it snaps. He whines out a sob.

"You ruined it," Seungcheol breathes, and he sounds genuinely devastated. "You ruined my orgasm. Baby, why? I was right there—"

"Stay here," you order, already grabbing your phone from the kitchen table where it was resting forgotten all this time. "Don't move."

You answer the call as you walk toward your room, your voice switching to a semblance of something professional and pleasant even though your thighs are still wet and your pussy is still aching and empty. "Hey, yeah, sorry, just give me one second—"

You don't get your one second. Because Seungcheol, your sweet, pathetic, desperate boyfriend, has followed you despite what you told him to do.

You feel him before you see him—his body pressing up behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock sliding between your thighs, still slick with your arousal. You're standing in front of your desk, phone pressed to your ear, and he's already bending you forward, already lining himself up.

"No," you mouth silently, turning your head to glare at him. "Don't you dare."

Seungcheol meets your eyes. His are dark and wild and desperate, and there's something almost feral in his expression. He doesn't stop. He pushes inside you in one smooth, harsh thrust that jolts your entire body, and the sensation of intrusion is so sudden and overwhelming that you have to bite down on your own hand to keep from crying out. This leaves you with no support, which means you pretty much topple over, suddenly pressed into your desk with Seungcheol's hand that was applying pressure between your shoulder blades. 

"—and so I was wondering if you could take a look at this document before the meeting this afternoon," your team lead is saying in your ear, her voice cheerful and oblivious. "I know it's last minute, but I think there might be an error on page five."

"Of course," you manage, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady considering the fact that your boyfriend is currently buried balls-deep inside you, his hips already starting to move. "I can—I can do that. No problem."

Seungcheol fucks into you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel how close he still is from before, how desperate. One of his hands slides up and down your back, pressing you down onto the desk before you can even think of lifting your upper body into an upright position, and the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you in place.

"Great, thanks," your team lead says. "Also, I wanted to ask about the client presentation next week. Have you had a chance to—"

He chooses that moment to thrust particularly deep, his cock hitting your cervix, and a tiny, strangled sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.

"You okay?" your team lead asks.

"Yes," you say, and your voice is definitely too high. "Yes, sorry, I just—stubbed my toe. On the desk. It's fine."

Seungcheol leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your free ear. "Little liar," he whispers, so quiet only you can hear. "What will your boss do if she finds out you're getting fucked during your working hours?” He can't help a chuckle that escapes him when he comes up with his next question. "Hmm, does it make you a slut for fucking me and getting paid while doing so? Technically…" he trails off and your pussy clenches traitorously as soon as your brain registers what he just said.

You want to kill him. You want to kill him and then marry him and then kill him again.

"—and if you could send me the updated slides by end of day, that would be perfect," your team lead is saying.

"End of day," you repeat, barely processing the words. Seungcheol has picked up his pace, just slightly, and the sound of his cock sliding into your wet, messy pussy is so loud in the quiet room that you're sure your team lead can hear it if the line stays silent for a moment too long. "Yes. Slides. I'll—I'll send them."

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little off."

"I'm fine. I'm great. Just—writing it down."

Seungcheol muffles a laugh against your shoulder. His hand leaves your hip and snakes around to your front, finding your clit with devastating accuracy. Your whole body jolts.

"That's the spot, isn't it?" he breathes in your ear. "That's the spot that makes you stupid. You're going to come on my cock while you're on the phone, aren't you? You're going to soak me and she's going to hear it."

You shake your head frantically, but you can't speak. Your team lead is still talking, something about deadlines and team meetings, and you're nodding along and making vague sounds of agreement while your boyfriend rubs circles on your clit and fucks into you with deep, punishing strokes. You're trying so hard not to start panting or moaning, and your brainpower continues to slip from your grasp.

"I'm going to fill you up," he whispers. "I'm going to pump you so full of cum it'll be dripping out of you for the rest of the day. And you're going to sit in your meetings and feel it leaking into your panties, and you're going to think about me. About this. About how I ruined you while you were trying to be professional."

"Okay," you say into the phone, and you have no idea what you're agreeing to. "Okay, sounds good. I have to—I have to go now, I'll send those slides."

"No rush," your team lead says. "Talk later!"

You hang up with confused fingers, missing the red button on the screen a couple of taps before you finally manage to end the call. The phone clatters onto the desk.

And then you let yourself fall apart.

"Cheol—" It comes out as a loud sob, half fury and half desperate, overwhelming need. "You—you fucking—I can't believe you—"

"You loved it." He's not even trying to hide the smugness in his voice, but it's undercut by the way his hips are stuttering, the way his rhythm is falling apart. "You loved every second of it. I could feel you getting wetter and clenching around me when she asked if you were okay."

"I'm going to kill you—after—after I come—"

"Yeah?" He presses harder on your clit, circles it with the perfect pressure that he knows you enjoy, and the orgasm that's been building since the kitchen finally, finally explodes. "Then come for me. Now, baby. Let me feel it."

You shatter with a mewl. It rips through you like a thunderclap, your whole body seizing up, your pussy clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, pulsing waves. You scream—you can't help it, the sound tears out of you raw and unguarded after long minutes of trying to suppress it all—and Seungcheol groans and buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in hot, copious pulses.

He keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum deeper into you, and you can feel it flooding you, filling you, leaking out around his cock in a white obscene ring and dripping down your thighs. He doesn't stop until he's completely spent, and then he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the desk, his breath hot and ragged against the back of your neck.

For a long moment the room is silent. The only sounds are your mingled breathing and the faint, distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

Then: "You're a menace," you whisper, swallowing thickly and heaving a sigh.

He laughs, breathless and giddy and a little bit wrecked. "Yeah. But you're the same. And you love me."

You don't argue. You can't. Not when his cock is still inside you, still half-hard, still plugging you full of his cum. Not when you can already feel it starting to drip out despite his best efforts. Not when your legs are shaking so badly you're not sure you can stand if you try.

"Next time," you manage, "I'm locking you to a piece of furniture before I take a work call."

"Hmm, I think next time," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, "you'll let me do it again. Because you're just as depraved as I am."

You hate that he's right. You hate it even more that you don't hate it at all.

*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.

“Sumi was enough of a mess to live with, and she’s been my friend since I met her at the welcome-to-university day last year. Where am I going to find a nice, quiet roommate, who doesn’t bring her boyfriend over to bang every night or want to throw parties or leave the kitchen a mess-”

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he watches your meltdown.

“If it’s not weird, I could move in with you,” he offers once your rant ends.

You stare at him.

Wonwoo’s been your best friend since grade school, and although the two of you are super close, you’d never considered a coed living situation with him. You know he’s a clean freak with a hint of ocd, it’s part of the reason he’s doing so well with his nursing classes- but, could you really live with him?

You’ve always found Wonwoo to be attractive, well, the attraction had grown in high school when the thin sweetheart had grown out a bit, his shoulders broadening and his baby fat disappearing with frequent stints at the gym. 

“Would you really do that?” you ask. “Move in with me?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “My lease is up on my one-bedroom. Your place is actually on campus, so I wouldn’t have to commute thirty minutes to and from school. We’re comfortable with each other, and we’ve been friends long enough to sort out any roommate growing pains. I think it could work out.”

He’s always so reasonable, so logical, and staring at this man, you realize he’s found the perfect solution to your problem, just as he always does.

“You know what, Wonwoo?” You let out a breath and find yourself smiling. “Let’s be roommates.”

One:

Before you’d moved in with Wonwoo, you two had been extremely close, but after a year and a half of living together, the only way you could be closer is if he was literally inside of you and fucking your brains out every day.

It’s because of this closeness, as well as his major, that you go to him when you begin to have stomach aches that persist for two weeks.

The nurse-to-be is sitting in the living room, reading through a textbook with a notepad to jot on when you approach.

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you,” you say, taking a seat next to him.

“What’s up?” he asks, immediately putting his studies to the side to focus on you.

“I’ve been having these stomach aches,” you sigh.

“Has your diet or water intake changed recently?”

“No.”

“So you’re eating properly and not resorting to a one hundred percent ramen-based diet like you did last final season?”

You laugh, pushing his knee. “No, I’m being good, I promise!”

He studies you carefully. “What kind of stomach pain?”

“Sometimes it’s sharp, and sometimes it’s like a dull ache.”

“Show me the location?”

Releasing a sigh, you bring your hand to your lower abdomen. “It’s kind of around here.”

Wonwoo looks down at the spot you’re indicating, then back up to you. “When was your last period?”

“Like… two weeks ago?”

“So you’re not due for one, which means it’s not period pains.”

“I know period pains,” you assure him, “and this is different.”

“Would you say it’s in a similar location to your usual period pains?”

You know his line of questioning immediately, and you let out a scoff. “I’m not pregnant, Wonwoo. We both know this is a celibate apartment since we’re married to our studies, and besides, I have an IUD.”

Wonwoo nods, and you can see the wheels in his mind turning. “How long have you had the IUD?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a couple of years? Why is that relevant?”

“Well, I don’t know much about birth control, but I do know that sometimes IUDs or other birth control implants can… shift.”

Shift.

The word sounds so ominous, and you can’t help the mortified expression that crosses your face. “My IUD hasn’t shifted,” you insist. “That can’t be what’s happening.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “If you say so.”

Your mouth feels dry, and the idea that the tiny foreign birth control object inside of you has shifted makes you feel nauseous, so you’re impatient to change the subject.

“I’m sure it’s just anxiety or something,” you tell him, letting out a deep breath.

“Keep an eye on it, and let me know if the stomach pain persists. If you need me to take you to the on-campus hospital, I’m sure they’d figure it out for you. Give an ultrasound if they think it’s IUD-related, or offer alternative possibilities.” 

“I appreciate that, but I’m sure it’s nothing,” you insist. For someone who’s best friends with a nurse, you don’t like hospitals very much, and getting the IUD inserted had been a traumatic enough experience to deter you from anything gynecological until the timeline on your implant has ended. You’ve got a couple of years until you’ll need to get the bugger taken out, and nothing is going to inspire you to go check on it, especially not a recurring stomach ache. 

Two:

Wonwoo’s walking to a seminar with his classmate Yeji when you pop into his mind. It’s been a couple of days since you told him about your stomach aches, and he wants a female perspective on it.

He’s heard horror stories about IUDs and other forms of birth control, but Wonwoo’s man enough to admit he doesn’t know enough about the subject.

“Hey, Yeji?” Wonwoo asks.

“What’s up?” she responds, not looking up from her phone, where she’s looking over notes to prep for the seminar.

“So my roommate mentioned she’s been having cramps for a while-”

“Is she eating and drinking water okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

“How about alcohol?”

“Neither of us are big drinkers,” Wonwoo admits.

“Okay, what about her period?”

Wonwoo loves how Yeji is asking all the questions he’d asked, it’s a sign he was doing the right line of enquiry. Wonwoo respects his classmate, and to know they have the same thought process is encouraging.

“She’s not due for it yet, not for another week or two.”

“Is she on birth control?”

“An IUD.”

Yeji looks up from her phone, and there’s a knowing twinkle in her eye, making Wonwoo chuckle.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I think we’re thinking the same thing.”

“It’s probably an IUD-related issue,” Yeji confirms. “Was the pain in her lower abdomen?”

“Uh huh.”

“Kind of like an ache, but sometimes sharp feelings too?”

“Yeah.”

“She has to check for her strings,” Yeji deduces.

There’s an immediate rush of embarrassment and heat to Wonwoo’s ears, and his voice cracks when he repeats, “Check for her strings?” 

“You know, reach up in there and see if she can feel them. That’s a good way to see if the IUD is in place without needing an ultrasound or a trip to the hospital.”

Wonwoo swallows thickly. He’s a nurse, and physical things like this shouldn’t affect him so much, but there’s something about the notion of you checking for your own strings-

Wonwoo wears glasses, but he’s not blind. He knows you’re a very gorgeous girl, and you’re sweet and smart to top it all off. He’s used to restricting himself, not allowing visions of you in compromising situations to pass through his mind’s eye, although this image is strictly medical, and he knows it shouldn’t stir something inside of him, but it does anyway, and a wave of shame passes over him as a result.

“I’ll uh,” Wonwoo coughs, “I’ll pass on the message to her.”

“It’s good to check your strings frequently,” Yeji continues, completely oblivious to Wonwoo’s discomfort. “If she has any sexual partners-”

“She’s single,” Wonwoo interjects, unable to help himself.

“Well, IUDs can be knocked out of place even without something poking at them, so you never know,” Yeji shrugs. 

God, Wonwoo had known there would be challenges that came with living with a member of the opposite sex, but he’d never imagined having to discuss female anatomy, birth control, and the checking of IUD strings. 

Three:

You’re sweating.

One foot is up on the bathtub, the other firmly on the ground, and you’re bent at an odd angle trying to reach inside of yourself to find some stupid IUD strings.

Wonwoo had come home and shyly told you that there’s an at-home way to check for IUD shifting, and you’d been less than enthusiastic about it- but more enthused about the idea of checking yourself than going to a clinic and having someone else do it for you.

This whole thing is awkward, and try as you might, you simply can’t feel any strings inside of you.

With a sigh of annoyance, you pull your fingers away, removing your foot from the tub so you can wash your hands.

Your heart is racing, panic and anxiety setting in- if the strings aren’t there, that means the IUD is misplaced, which means a gyno visit, which might actually be the end of the world for you right now.

You’re not ready to accept that fate, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Wonwoo?” you call, finding your best friend in the living room.

He looks as nervous as you feel, which is a foreign emotion on the generally stoic man’s face.

“Did you find them?” he asks. 

You shake your head.

“Well, what if we go to an urgent care clinic? Or set up an appointment with your doctor?” he suggests.

“My doctor is a man, and the clinics might have a male doctor, and they’d probably want to check on the spot without sending a referral to the place that put the IUD in, and- Well,” you can feel tears burning in your eyes, “I really don’t have the mental capacity to have a man I don’t know looking up inside me right now-”

“I could call Yeji-”

“I don’t even know Yeji,” you groan. “This whole thing is so fucking awkward.”

“So.. what are you going to do?”

“I hate to ask this…” correction, you can’t believe you’re about to ask this, “but… could you maybe… would you, uh… do you maybe want to help me check for the strings?” 

Wonwoo simply stares at you.

“Please?” 

He swallows thickly. “I’ll go get some surgical gloves.”

You’re doing this, and you’ve just got to suck it up. As awkward as the idea is of your childhood best friend fingering you to find some fucking IUD strings is, the notion of some random man at a hospital doing it is even worse.

While Wonwoo is getting gloves, you go to your room to change into a dress. That way, you’ll be covered, but there will still be easy access.

Once you’re dressed, you head to the bathroom, where you find Wonwoo waiting. There’s a bottle of lube on the sink, and it’s clear he’s slicked up his gloved fingers in preparation. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a walk-in?” he asks, and you can tell from the pink of his ears that he’s as awkward about this as you are. 

“Wonwoo, you’re just going to close your eyes, put your fingers into something, and see if strings poke you,” you tell him, letting out a deep breath. “It will be simple.” You’re trying to convince yourself, but it’s not working.

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to sigh. He kneels down on the floor, then actually closes his eyes.

“Can you guide my hand?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You swallow a lump in your throat, reaching to grab his wrist. Slowly, you bring his fingers between your thighs. “It’s uh, right here.”

The first contact of Wonwoo’s gloved digits on your core has you jolting, and your skin immediately heats with embarrassment.

“After this one, remind me to never get another IUD,” you groan.

“There are other methods,” he muses, his fingers gently slipping into you with aid from the lube. 

“I don’t want pills or an implant, or a shot, or one of those diva cup ring things,” you insist.

“Condoms are pretty dependable.”

“Yeah, if a man actually wants to wear one. Most guys are such crybabies about a bit of rubber that they’d rather put their girlfriend through humiliation of IUD insertion, or the trauma of pills that fuck up your emotions and body-”

You’re so busy ranting that you almost don’t notice Wonwoo’s fingers pushing deeper, but then he begins searching around, and he accidentally makes contact with your G-spot, which immediately makes you choke on your words.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says softly. “Uh, tell me more about bad birth control?”

“Yeah, uh…” God, you can feel yourself sweating, and you can’t bring yourself to look down at Wonwoo, so you close your eyes, tilting your head back to focus on your female rage rather than your hot best friend inspecting your pussy for IUD strings. “The fact that men get sedation or whatever for vasectomies but women still have to get this shit inserted with no local anasthesia or anything, it’s barbaric and misogynistic, not to mention anti-woman.”

“That definitely sounds like a double standard,” Wonwoo agrees.

“If men had to endure the pain we do for an IUD male equivalent procedure, they’d for sure get full sedation and pain meds,” you declare.

“You’re probably right about that.”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me you can feel the fucking strings.”

“No luck, yet. Sorry.”

You groan. “You uh… feel pretty deep in there.”

“I’ve got long fingers.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted you to do this.”

“If I’m being honest, I think we should call it. I can’t find any strings.”

“Just…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “One more minute.”

“If you say so.”

A bead of sweat rolls down your neck, your heart racing in your chest. 

Please find the strings. Please for the love of God-

“Wait, I think something just poked me!” Wonwoo tells you, and your eyes flash open.

“Is it the strings!?”

He pushes his fingers just a touch deeper, and after a moment, Wonwoo nods. “I think it’s the strings!”

“Thank God!” you practically scream. 

In response, Wonwoo tears his hand away from you, and you immediately cover yourself with your dress again.

Your best friend opens his eyes and looks up at you. “We found the strings, but I still think you should get a referral for a minimally invasive ultrasound just to make sure it’s in place where it should be.”

“Wonwoo, we’re going to celebrate the small wins,” you tell him. “And we are also never going to speak of this ever again to anyone, do you understand?”

He nods solemnly. “I have zero memory of anything that just took place.”

“Good boy.” 

Four:

As someone who’s entering the medical field, Wonwoo knows he’s not supposed to feel weird about the human body.

After all, a body is just a body. 

But… there’s something about the fact that he was just up and close with your body, and he feels ashamed that the whole situation is affecting him the way it is.

There shouldn’t be anything sexy about stomach aches and possible misplaced IUDs, and yet… Wonwoo feels flushed every time he thinks about it.

You’ve been best friends since you were both children, but it’s a far reach to say that Wonwoo has ever seen you as a sister. The two of you had been inseparable for your younger years, and when you’d both hit puberty, the dynamic had shifted somewhat.

Sure, you’ve both had significant others, and been supportive of each other in everything- but… Wonwoo can’t pretend he’s not attracted to you.

It’s something he’s always been able to push to the side, after all, he’d never jeopardize your connection for the chance of getting his rocks off. He’s not that kind of man, which is why this whole IUD situation has put him in such an uncomfortable position.

It’s been two days since he checked your strings, and things have felt different. The two of you don’t know how to be around each other now, and that’s evident by the way you both stutter and give each other a wide berth in the kitchen at dinner time.

Wonwoo can feel his skin getting warm as he steps back to give you space to move to the fridge, and he swallows the lump in his throat, uncomfortably adjusting his glasses.

“I feel like maybe we both need a drink,” you say with a deep sigh.

The two of you are not big on alcohol, but there’s a mixed spirit drink bottle in the top cupboard for extreme situations, and this definitely feels like the right time for it.

Wonwoo helps you pour the liquid into two large glasses, and with an awkward smile, you clink your cup to his own before taking a sip.

“Let’s watch something,” you suggest next, and the two of you go to the living room.

You’re both interested in Netflix documentaries, and you find one that looks interesting. It’s something to get your mind off of things, but as Wonwoo continues to drink, his thoughts start to wander.

As a non-drinker, Wonwoo’s tolerance is substantially lower than he’d like it to be, and he can feel his skin heating. His mind feels fuzzy now, and his gaze keeps slipping over to you.

The two of you can’t live this way.

You just can’t.

Things can’t be this awkward forever, and if there was ever a time to tell you he’s into you as more than a friend, it would be now.

One episode of the documentary finishes, and as the screen cuts to credits, Wonwoo lets out an extremely deep breath.

“I need to tell you something,” he states.

“God.” You immediately hide your face, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. “What is it?”

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us because I had to help you find your IUD strings,” Wonwoo says first. 

“Well, there’s not much we can do about it, can we?”

“I like you.”

“Huh?” You look over at him with confusion.

“This might make it more awkward if you don’t feel the same way,” Wonwoo admits, his mouth getting dry. “But… I like you a lot, and… helping you with that whole thing… well, it doesn’t make me see you any differently. In fact, uh… maybe kind of the opposite.”

Wonwoo can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

Did he just admit that being gloved and two fingers deep in your pussy made him even more into you?

Yes. Yes, he did. 

“I think maybe it’s time for bed,” you tell him, and his heart sinks in his chest.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, we can talk about it in the morning.” 

The two of you stand up after turning the TV off, and Wonwoo doesn’t even know if he should look at you.

Then, surprisingly, you step forward, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his cheek. “Get some sleep,” you tell him.

He stands there in shock as you head to your room, offering him an awkward smile as you close the door behind you.

Wonwoo continues to just exist blankly, unmoving in the living room for a solid five minutes before he’s able to shake himself out of things. 

He doesn’t know what the future might bring, but the future is best brought sober. 

Five: 

You’re sitting in the kitchen when Wonwoo comes out of his room. 

Neither of you have classes today, and you’re kind of happy about that, because Wonwoo looks disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him look before.

His glasses are askew, his hair is a curly mess, his eyes have bags under them like he’s hardly slept-

“You okay?” you ask immediately.

Wonwoo lets out a deep breath. “Sorry about last night. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I probably hurt our friendship-”

“It’s fine,” you assure him.

“No, it’s not. I stepped over a boundary-”

“Wonwoo,” you say his name firmly, grabbing his attention. “You didn’t mess things up. You told me you like me, and I wanted to say it back, but you were drunk, and I thought it would be best to tell you when you were sober, or at least… hungover or something.”

Wonwoo blinks at you. His lips part, but he’s not able to speak for a few moments. “You like me too?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Like… as more than a friend?”

“I mean, you and I have been inseparable since we were kids. I’ve always had a crush on you, Wonwoo, but I pushed it aside for our friendship.”

“So did I.”

“Who knew all it would take was an IUD and a very awkward situation of trying to find us for us to admit this sort of thing?” You let out a small laugh, and Wonwoo joins in with you, which eases your anxieties.

“So…” He swallows thickly. “What now?”

“We could just watch movies and hang out today, you know, like a lazy Sunday date.”

“But we watch movies and hang out all the time, shouldn’t I… I don’t know, take you out for brunch or something?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I was thinking, while watching our show, we could cuddle, which isn’t something we’ve ever done.”

“I think I would like that,” Wonwoo admits.

“How about you go find us a new show, and I’ll make you some ramen. It looks like you need some food.”

Wonwoo nods, moving to the living room while you get water boiling for the noodles.

You’re trying to hide it, but you feel jittery. At the same time, the awkward atmosphere has shifted. Things feel a touch back to normal, but amplified in a way. No longer are you just making food for your roommate; you’re making food for a man who likes you the way you like him.

Suddenly, things feel domestic in a way they’ve never felt before, and that sensation brings you joy as you prepare the ramen and join Wonwoo in the living room.

The two of you agree on a show, and in the first fifteen minutes, Wonwoo slowly eats and sips on water.

Once he’s finished, he sets the bowl to the side. 

“So… do you want to move closer?” he asks.

Your heart is racing as you snuggle up to his side, and Wonwoo’s arm goes around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You release a deep sigh, already very comfortable, and it’s in this position that you spend most of the day.

The whole documentary miniseries you’re watching comes to a conclusion, and you shift. You sit back up to stretch, and Wonwoo watches you.

When you let out a sigh and allow your arms to rest by your sides again, Wonwoo finally asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart lurches into your throat, and you swallow it back down.

“Yeah.”

He leans forward, and you mirror the motion.

You stare at your best friend, admiring all the little things about his handsome face.

He cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin.

The moment feels suspended in time. It feels fast, yet slow, all at once, and then, Wonwoo closes the distance.

His mouth meets yours, hesitantly at first, but when you lean forward, grabbing his shoulders, he relaxes a little.

Neither of you are dreaming this up; it’s real.

You’re kissing your best friend, and fuck, it feels so good.

You love how gentle Wonwoo is, how it’s not immediate intensity. He’s soft, and his motions are tentative, as if he’s trying to figure you out.

Meanwhile, a need is growing inside of you, so you’re the one to take things to the next step. You open your mouth, licking Wonwoo’s lip, and he mirrors you.

A soft moan escapes you, and you shift closer, wanting to be pressed to him, wanting to feel his heart as it races alongside your own.

Things are getting heated fast, and soon, you’re crawling on top of him, straddling his hips on your living room couch.

Wonwoo’s hands stay in a respectable place on your hips, but it’s simply not enough for you anymore.

You reach down, guiding his grip to your bum.

Wonwoo groans beneath you, breaking the kiss to look up at you. “Should we take a minute?”

“Why?”

Wonwoo blushes. “Well, uh…”

That’s when you feel something pressing against your core, and you realize your grinding has caused him to get hard. Your pussy flutters, and you swallow thickly. “Do you really want to stop?”

“Well, I mean… you’ve been having stomach pains. Your IUD might be in the wrong place-”

“You felt the strings, that means it’s there.”

“What if it’s not working?”

“I read online that as long as it’s in me still, it’s likely working.”

“Do you want to risk it?”

You swallow thickly. “I want you.”

“What if this messes things up?”

“It won’t,” you tell him.

“How can you be so sure?”

Wonwoo’s looking at you with such pure eyes, and your heart melts for him. “I just know.”

You can see the moment he gives in. 

You’re both putting your friendship on the line, but if there’s one man in the world who you know would never hurt you, it’s Wonwoo.

Slowly, you press your lips to his again.

The momentum is like it was the first time, a gentle, gradual build, and you’re doing your best not to start grinding on him again.

Your body wants one thing, but your mind knows you have to take this slow.

Wonwoo’s a thoughtful man. He’s a thinker. And thoughts don’t easily slip from his head. You don’t want to scare him away, so you meet his pace, allowing him to be the one who instigates progression.

His hand begins to grip your bum again, and you release a moan, kissing him deeper.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gently tugging to earn your own sounds of pleasure.

God, Wonwoo’s so sexy. Your entire body is humming with energy as you make out like teenagers on your living room couch.

You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and soon, Wonwoo seems to break too.

He pulls away from the kiss, letting out a groan. “Do you want to go to my room?”

“Okay.”

You’re breathing heavily as you stand up, and you let Wonwoo lead you to his room. Once you’re there, it’s as if the unknowing comes to the surface again. You and Wonwoo look at each other, two people in a room you’ve been in a hundred times, but this time, everything is different.

It’s like starting from ground zero again, both of you tentatively connecting, lips meeting. His hands are on your hips, and the two of you slowly move toward the bed. 

You grab the bottom of his shirt, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to allow you to remove it.

God, his body is so perfect. It’s lean but muscled, and even with his heavy nursing workload, he always finds time to go to the gym.

You remove your hoodie next, revealing the lacy bralette beneath.

Wonwoo swallows thickly, his eyes flicking up to meet your own. His ears are turning pink, and you know he’s shy about checking you out, but unfortunately for him, he’s just going to have to get used to it.

You grab his hand, pulling him to the bed, where you sit down first, looking up at him. 

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“This might be a little awkward for both of us, first times always are,” you note, “but, I think we were always meant to be together, and after this, things will be a lot easier.”

Wonwoo is quiet for a moment, but then he nods. “I agree with that.” 

“Try to get out of your own head for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.”

You stroke his hand, and then you guide it to your breast, prompting him to squeeze you gently.

A soft groan escapes your lips. “Feels good.”

Wonwoo swallows thickly, bringing both hands to your breasts so he can massage you through your bralette.

He continues this for a minute before you get too horny, and you reach behind your back to remove the last piece of fabric blocking him from direct contact with your chest.

As the material slips off, Wonwoo takes a sharp breath.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, guiding his hands back. “I like this.”

His thumb brushes over your nipple, and you shiver, core pulsing with interest. 

“Here,” you offer, “come sit against the headboard.”

Wonwoo does as you tell him, no questions asked, and once he’s situated, you straddle him like you did on the couch.

Your lips meet, and the kiss is filled with passion. His hands are on your hips, but you grab them, guiding him to your breasts again.

It feels so good to be kissing your best friend while he massages your chest, and you begin to grind down against him, eliciting moans from both of you. 

You’re overwhelmed in the best possible way, and you break the kiss, which prompts Wonwoo to kiss your throat, then down to your collar bones- soon, he has your nipple in his mouth, and your whole body lights up with the sensation.

You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping his face pressed against your boobs, a silent plea for him to continue.

Your hips are still swiveling, and you can feel Wonwoo getting harder and harder with each passing second.

Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you stop. “Let’s get naked.”

“Yeah.”

You get off Wonwoo, standing so you can remove the last of your clothes. He does the same, and then he reaches for his bedside table, removing a condom package and a bottle of lube.

“Condom?” you ask.

“We’re not a hundred percent sure about your IUD yet, and I don’t want to risk anything,” Wonwoo muses.

You decide that if you try to have sex without protection, he’s just going to be in his head, so you promise yourself to get a clean bill of health from your doctor (with perhaps the help of an ultrasound machine), and then you can enjoy the raw feeling of your best friend.

Wonwoo joins you on the bed again, but the condom is still on the side table. It’s clear he wants a bit more foreplay, so you wrap your legs around his hips and draw him close, lips crashing against his own.

The two of you continue to make out, your whole body on fire. One of his hands is still massaging your breast, but then it begins to descend. He rubs your clit, and you whimper, shifting below him for better access.

“Been thinking about fingering you,” he admits.

“Got a taste and you couldn’t forget it, huh?” you tease. “Me neither.”

“Yeah?” He slips two digits into your soaked core. 

“Your fingers are just so long, and they fit perfectly. You hit the perfect spot-” you whimper when he touches the exact location you were just talking about. “Fuck, someone’s a fast learner.”

“I noticed how you reacted last time. It wasn’t the time or place then, but I promised to utilize it later if I ever got the chance,” Wonwoo breathes, stroking your g-spot expertly.

Your eyes close, and you give in to the pleasure, whimpering and desperately clutching his shoulders. 

Wonwoo’s lips move to your throat, and he worships you, making your mind go blank and your legs numb. God, he’s good with his fingers, repeatedly hitting your G-spot while his palm rubs your clit-

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling your release bubbling already. Foreplay and longing have contributed to a fast unraveling, and Wonwoo just knows what you like. Sure, this is a first time for you both, but he knows enough about you to infer things, and your vocal nature edges him on as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re getting louder and louder, and soon, you’re belting out, “I’m gonna cum!”

Wonwoo finger fucks you even faster, and you explode like a firework. Sparks of jittery energy combust through you, taking over your entire body as Wonwoo pleasures you.

You gasp loudly, and Wonwoo helps you ride out the orgasm with unwavering dedication.

His kisses are a constant on your throat, and he works you through it until your core stops pulsing around his fingers.

Then, Wonwoo removes them.

You’re shocked to open your eyes and see your neat freak best friend lick his digits clean, and your core throbs at the sight.

His cock is completely erect, and it looks beautiful. It’s long, but still thick enough to be balanced, if you can describe a penis as balanced, that is.

Wonwoo reaches for the condom package, and you watch, breathless, as he slides the rubber on.

“You still want this?” he asks.

“More than anything,” you confirm, opening your arms to prompt him to come closer again.

“Do you want me to use lube?” he asks.

“I’m wet enough and we both know it.”

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he assures you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

God, you love this man.

You’ve loved him for years, and you can tell in this moment that you’re very much at risk of being in love with him within the week. 

You draw his lips to yours as he adjusts his cock to your core, rubbing the tip between your soaked pussy lips.

Wonwoo is slow about pushing into you, giving your body time to adjust.

You haven’t had sex in a while, so it’s definitely a jump from fingers to cock, and you groan into the kiss as he sheathes himself.

Once his hips are flush to your own, your mouths separate so you can both moan at the sensation. Wonwoo swallows thickly. “Should I move?”

“Yeah,” you nod, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. “Feels good already.”

Wonwoo takes a breath as he begins to thrust, it’s shallow and slow at first, but the pleasure is so great that you find yourself grabbing his shoulders.

Your head falls back against the pillows, eyes closing to enjoy everything Wonwoo is giving you.

As his pace accelerates, he draws your lips to his own again, and you kiss him desperately as he fucks you.

One particularly deep thrust has you squeaking, and Wonwoo pauses, breaking the kiss. “I can definitely feel your strings.”

“What?”

“The IUD, I felt them.”

“Like… on your cock?”

Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah.”

“Is that normal?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t know much about it. But if my fingers could reach them, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised my dick can.”

When you’d gotten an IUD, you hadn’t known any of this stuff. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really, it was just a feeling.” Wonwoo begins to thrust again, but you can tell he’s keeping it shallower.

If he were to go deeper, you get the sense he’s afraid he might mess up your wonky IUD even more, and while part of you wants him to let go and just decimate you, you respect that he’s being careful. 

His lips meet yours again, and the kiss distracts you from all things IUD. 

Each thrust is like heaven, and your core is so soaked that every movement is easy.

You’re whimpering more and more, and Wonwoo’s returning your sounds with noises of his own. 

Sex hadn’t felt this good all those months ago when you had it last, had it? 

No, you think the pleasure is because you’re having sex with Wonwoo, and your whole body warms at the notion.

“You feel so good,” Wonwoo groans, his lips moving to your throat. You love the sensation of his hot breath on your skin, and you thread your fingers through his hair to keep him close.

“Sounds…” you swallow thickly, “sounds like you’re close.”

“Yeah, maybe I need to slow down,” Wonwoo admits.

“It’s okay, neither of us has done this in a long time,” you remind him.

“I don’t want to be a three pump chump.”

You never thought you’d hear that phrase coming from Wonwoo of all people, and it makes you giggle. “You’re not a three pump chump,” you assure him. 

“You’re not going to be disappointed?” he asks.

“We can always do this again in twenty minutes or something,” you point out.

“I guess that’s true,” Wonwoo laughs. “I just want to make sure you’re… satisfied.”

“I’ve cum once already, which is more than I can say for the last guy I was dating, so… I think you’re off to a good start.”

Wonwoo lets out a sigh. He never liked your ex. 

“Okay,” he says finally. Then he kisses you again, beginning to move.

He’s found the perfect amount of depth. It’s deep, but not so deep that he’s hitting your strings or making you uncomfortable.

You give in to the feeling again, forgetting your little interlude as you’re taken over by pleasure once again.

Wonwoo’s fingers thread with yours, and he begins to moan again, getting close to the edge while pleasure builds within you, too.

“I think I can cum soon,” you tell him between kisses. 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but his free hand moves between your bodies, and he begins to rub your clit, causing jolts of pleasure to erupt through you again. 

You moan desperately, muscles tightening with each pass of his fingers, combined with his cock working your insides. 

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, gripping the feeling and refusing to let go as it builds-

Wonwoo lets out another groan, and the sound is so sexy it makes your insides twist into knots-

One more rub of his fingers on your clit has you exploding. Your core clamps down on him like a vice, a strangled gasp escaping you as the fireworks return, sparkling through you.

Wonwoo shivers, fucking you even harder, and a moment later, he lets out his own sound of pleasure. His thrusts falter, and although you can’t feel him filling your insides since he’s filling a condom, you can tell from the pulsing of his cock that he’s cumming too.

Your fingers thread through his hair, and you draw him close, both of you panting in the throes of passion. 

His movements stop, and you both just stay still for a few moments, trying to regain composure after two explosive orgasms.

Wonwoo swallows thickly, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

Then, he pulls out of you. There’s no mess of cum, no need to clean anything up, so once he’s gone to the bathroom to discard his condom, he returns and collapses into bed with you.

You immediately cuddle up next to his side, releasing a sigh of relief as his arms wrap around you.

For the first time, you can tell Wonwoo’s not thinking about anything, that he’s fully in the moment with you. He looks peaceful, and it makes your heart sing.

Who knew all it would take was an extremely awkward interaction over IUD strings to bring the two of you together like this?

He’s your person, he always has been, and he always will be.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! IUDs can be a shit show but nurse Wonwoo is so hot.

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. There’s no contraption to break or misplace inside of you, and being birth control free with the intention of pregnancy feels a little something like liberation from the shackles that once dictated your sexual relationship. 

cw/ tw. unprotected sex, baby making, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, eating out, body/nipple worship, blow job, hand job, baby making, dirty talk, praise, etc…   I petnames. (hers) honey. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 160

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You and Wonwoo have been together for four years now, married for one, and life is complete bliss.

Sure, things can be difficult; after all, he’s now a full nurse, and hospital hours can be hectic. But outside of general life ups and downs, your relationship is as solid as it ever has been.

About a month ago, you’d gotten your IUD taken out. It was horribly uncomfortable to get the device removed, but it was almost comical to see the tiny little ‘T’ contraption that had kick-started the most important romantic relationship of your life. You were glad to see the little bugger go, and it’s absence now signifies the start of a new chapter for you and Wonwoo.

In the year you have been married, the two of you have slaved over finances and life planning, and now that your birth control has been removed, your doctor has given you the go-ahead to start trying for a baby.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@meowniee - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi

I'm also taggling those who I thought might like this :)

@bobathi - @amazinggraxia - @bluempire425-blog -

@twililty - @cheolaholic - @babieculture

@meowniee - @ridenotpark - @ollieollieoctopus

You had dated fellow business major Wonwoo throughout university, but upon graduation, you’d followed your passion to the Big Apple, New York, intent on pursuing your dreams of selling real estate. He, in contrast, had stayed on the West Coast. It hadn’t been the best breakup, but you had both been young, and you weren’t going to let a man get in the way of your life goals.

Now here he is, at your Broker’s Open, looking even more handsome than the last time you saw him.

You’d heard he had come to town, seen his name pop up in listings connected to a new and growing real estate agency, and for a year, you’ve been waiting for an interaction like this. But now that you’re finally in the same room as your ex, you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours, and he flashes a grin, heading toward you through the crowd of agents.

“Long time no see,” your ex says, voice deeper than you remember.

He’s taller than he used to be too, and his shoulders have widened. His clothing has had a major upgrade, and the black duster he’s wearing draped over his pinstripe suit clad shoulders only accentuates how broad he’s become. Everything is well fitted, tailored even, and clearly expensive.

“Yes,” you force yourself to look away, too distracted by the sight of him to think coherently. “I see you finally made it to the big city.”

“And yet, no calls, no texts,” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle. “I know it’s been over five years, but it feels like we’re strangers now.”

“Well, I’m married to my work,” you state, looking at him again and appreciating the way his glasses complement his angular cheekbones, making him look even more regal and handsome. 

“So no time for social niceties,” Wonwoo grins.

God, he’s so sexy.

“Not unless you’re a buyer, a seller, a representative, or a prospective client.”

“I guess I’m in luck then, I represent a prospective buyer,” Wonwoo muses. “I ran over the comps, sent a video of this place to my client, and I think we might be able to make a deal here.”

“You have a buyer?” you ask in shock.

Wonwoo’s agency is still very young compared to the old money businesses that run New York. Your company, in contrast, is the number one selling agency in the whole city. The idea that Wonwoo could bring in a buyer at your calibre is unexpected, to say the least.

“I have a buyer,” Wonwoo confirms. Someone brushes by your back, and Wonwoo gently reaches out, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you closer and away from the people shuffling around behind you. 

“Then you need to put in an offer,” you tell him, swallowing the lump in your throat as your heart races in your chest.

Wonwoo leans even closer so you can hear him over the loud chatter of the crowd. “How about we grab some drinks when you finish up here, and run some numbers?” your ex asks smoothly.

“Strictly business?” you retort.

“And pleasure. I don’t see why we can’t mix the two, given our history.” 

Heat radiates through you, and it feels like there’s pressure on your chest. This man might look like your ex, but he’s changed in many ways since you last saw him. Aside from the physical growth, his personality has clearly shifted too. He’s a lot more flirty, and there’s an egotistical note in the way he holds himself now. 

This is no longer the nerdy gamer you dated in university, the nerdy gamer you broke up with in order to chase your dreams of money, fame, and comfort.

“We can grab drinks after this,” you confirm. “But your buyer better have a good number.”

“I wouldn’t insult you with any low balling, I know your reputation in this city.” Wonwoo releases your wrist. “I still have your number, I’ll text you the spot. Let’s say nine o’clock? You should be done by then.”

“That works,” you confirm.

“It was good to see you.” His hand finds your shoulder, and he gently brushes a piece of your hair away from your collarbone, making your skin tingle from the brief contact. With a final nod, your ex turns and wades into the crowd, leaving you breathless, confused, and too horny to admit.

Two:

You find Wonwoo at a booth in the back corner of a swanky bar in Mid-Town. He’s nursing an Old Fashioned cocktail, and when you sit down, you notice he’d ordered you a drink too. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Cocktail; fruity, and sweet, just how you like it,” Wonwoo grins teasingly. “Unless your tastes have changed?”

“We’re still talking about drinks here, right?” you question, feeling slightly uncomfortable already.

Your ex’s smile widens. “What else would we be talking about?”

Letting out a deep sigh, you push the drink to the side. “We should be talking business.”

“I’ve got two proposals for you,” Wonwoo says, leaning back against the booth and straightening his shoulders. 

“Two?” You cock a brow, curiousity getting the better of you.

“I think you should join SVT Co.” 

A laugh escapes you before you can even control yourself. “And why would I do that?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I think you’d be surprised by the new developments we’ve secured the rights to sell.”

“I’m at the top real estate company in New York, what do you think your CEO could offer me that I don’t already have?”

“The opportunity to grow with us, and outgrow the current restrictive company you’re currently working with. You know, be a big fish in a little pond, that sort of thing.”

You process his words, but find yourself shaking your head anyways. “Proposal two. Talk to me about your buyer.”

“He’s a family man from California, looking for a two bed, two bath in middle Manhattan. Your listing fit the bill, I gave him a tour on Facetime, talked comps and numbers. I told him you’re an amazing agent with many connections, and you’d likely already receive a bid or two at your open house, so I figured we should jump on this. We agreed on a number, and I’m ready to make the offer.”

“Tell me.”

“Asking is five million, considering the high floor, the views, and square footage price relative to the building, he and I came in at four point three, all cash, no contingencies, ready to close in ten days.” 

“That’s seven hundred thousand less than asking,” you retort, narrowing your eyes. “Is that the highest he will go?”

“How about you call your guy and we’ll play some ball.”

“And here I thought you said you wouldn’t low ball me,” you tisk, pulling out your phone. 

“All cash, no contingencies, ten day close, it sweetens the deal for the number. You want to get this done, don’t you? I know your seller does. The apartment already had a different listing agent for a six month contract and they couldn’t get a deal in, won’t it feel nice for everyone if you get this done on the day of your Broker’s Open?”

You glance at Wonwoo, shocked at how far he’s come since university. For him to talk big business with you like this… to bring you a client and help you both make commission… it’s a nice change, but an unexpected one.

You call the seller you’re representing, holding up a finger to Wonwoo, and relay the information. There’s a small back and forth, you mention a few offers you got at the Broker’s Open which were more around the four million range, and then you put yourself on mute, looking at your ex. “Four point five and we have a deal.”

“Let’s make this happen,” Wonwoo grins, pulling out his own phone to call the buyer.

You listen to the way he discusses things with his client, and you have to admit, Wonwoo has a way with words. He thanks his buyer and hangs up. “Four point five, all cash, no contingencies, ten day close. We have a deal.”

Wonwoo holds out a hand and you shake it, unable to contain the joy you’re feeling at getting this apartment sold so quickly, and the tingles you get from touching him only add to the sensation. “I’ll write up a contract and send it to you.”

Your ex is slow to release your hand, and he lets out a sigh. “I missed you.”

“What?”

“I missed you,” Wonwoo says again. “We broke up because you moved to New York, and now I’m here too. Why don’t we give this a try again?”

“Because things have changed!” you stammer.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo grins and sips his Old Fashioned. “Like what?”

“Well, I mean, for starters, you’re in an Armani suit.”

“You don’t like the suit?” His smile broadens.

“I love the suit, love the suit. But the Wonwoo that I used to know would never wear such high brand luxury. You’ve also clearly grown the balls and ego to match a man who wears Armani.”

Now your ex lets out a laugh, and you hate how beautiful he is. 

He opens his mouth to say something, and that’s when you hear someone call Wonwoo’s name.

You turn to find another well dressed man approaching from the bar seating area.

“I thought that was you!” The handsome man smiles.

“Dokyeom, this is y/n, y/n this is Dokyeom,” Wonwoo introduces you, letting out a sigh and reaching for his drink again. It’s clear to you he’s not very satisfied with being interrupted, but his friend seems to not notice, or perhaps ignore your ex’s annoyance.

“y/n as in real estate princess y/n?” Dokyeom gasps. “As in, fastest junior to senior agent in her company’s history?”

“That would be me,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Excuse me,” Wonwoo sighs, standing from the booth and allowing Dokyeom to take his spot.

“I’m guessing you work with Wonwoo at SVT co?” you ask, turning your attention to the bright, bubbly man.

“Beautiful and smart, a deadly combination,” Dokyeom beams. “Yes, I’ve been working with him for about a year now. I didn’t mean to interrupt, were you two doing business?”

“We just made a deal on a two bed two bath,” you nod.

“Congratulations!” Dokyeom is clearly an insanely happy and positive person, and it relaxes you a bit as you begin to talk to him. 

But conversation quickly moves in the same direction that your talk with Wonwoo had.

“You should really meet Choi Seungcheol, our CEO,” Dokyeom explains. “I think you would like him a lot.”

“I’m not sure I’m in the market to be poached,” you tease, sipping your drink.

Dokyeom lets out a laugh. “Okay, you got me.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “But… I have an open house this weekend you could come to, for business purposes.” He sends you a wink and it makes you chuckle.

You open your mouth to respond but at that moment, Wonwoo returns. “I have to go,” he says curtly. “An agent just got back to me about a twilight viewing, and tonight has pretty clear skies, so now is the time.”

“I understand,” you nod.

Wonwoo pauses for a few seconds, and you’re not sure if he expects you to stand and give him a hug, or if he’s unsure about leaving you with his friend, regardless, he hesitates, and the tension is thick.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Wonwoo says finally.

“I’m sure you will, and I’ll get the contract to you by midnight.”

Your ex nods, and then, without another word, he leaves.

When he’s out of earshot, Dokyeom lets out a whistle. “So he really wasn’t lying that you two have history.”

“He told you about that?” you ask in shock.

“Not in detail, Wonwoo’s not the talkative type, but he mentioned you know each other, and I guess I put two and two together.” 

“It was a long time ago,” you state, grabbing your purse and finishing your drink. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you.”

“Here.” Dokyeom pulls out a card, writing a few details on the back of it. “This is my information, and I wrote the details for the open house I’m throwing, I hope you can make it.”

“We’ll see.” 

Three:

You’re not here to be poached… you’re just at Dokyeom’s open house to view it for clients. Definitely.

And you didn’t dress up extremely well to dazzle Wonwoo or anything, that would be ludicrous. No, you’re dressed nice because this is your job. A hundred and ten percent.

You’re in the kitchen when Dokyeom comes scurrying over, a huge grin on his face. “You came!”

“I’ve got a buyer looking for something like this,” you tell him, trying to remain nonchalant.

“I’ll give you a tour.” 

As he begins his tour, he stops at certain sections of the penthouse to point people out to you.

There’s Seungcheol, the extremely handsome yet stern looking CEO with his assistant, Dino, glued to his side. Jeonghan is a senior agent in a deep discussion with two juniors, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who seem to be at each other’s throats while the eldest watches with a grin. Jun and Minghao are speaking quickly in Chinese to a potential foreign buyer on FaceTime. Woozi and Mingyu are going over comps. Joshua and Vernon are on calls with LA connections.

It’s a lot of names, and too many handsome faces to count, but you can definitely say with certainty, SVT Co is a hotdog fest. A very, very sexy hotdog fest. 

You’re more interested in the men than the penthouse you’re here to view, which is something you realize abruptly as the tour comes to a close.

“You should talk to everyone when you get a chance,” Dokyeom smiles. “They will all love you.”

You let out an awkward laugh. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because you’re gorgeous, and a money maker. We all know your history, the new developments you’ve sold, the commercial spaces, the rentals. Name the niche and you’ve sold it.” Dokyeom’s grin widens. “At the end of the day, it all comes down to the same thing; money, honey. And you make money.” 

Your gaze shifts to the door to the penthouse, where Wonwoo has just arrived, and Dokyeom must sense the shift in your expression, because he follows your gaze.

“I guess working with an ex might be the only downside,” he confesses.

“It’s been years,” you say pointedly.

Wonwoo hasn’t only grabbed your attention, you notice the gorgeous man Dokyeom had pointed out as ‘Mingyu’ is approaching your ex.

They chat briefly, and then both of them look over to you. You almost fold under their dual gazes, your core throbbing uncomfortably at the attention.

“Here we go,” you sigh, body tensing with anticipation as both handsome men approach. 

“You must be y/n,” Mingyu smiles, holding out a hand. “I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you grin, enjoying the way his palm dwarfs your own.

“I see Dokyeom’s been showing you around, how do you like the place?” Mingyu asks, and you realize he’s just as easy going and prone to light conversation as Dokyeom is.

“I like it a lot, as far as new development penthouses go, I’ve seen better, but based on the price range it’s not bad.”

“Wow, someone is a hard sell,” Mingyu jokes. “Do you and your boyfriend live in something like this?”

You can’t help the laugh that billows out of you. Mingyu had attempted to be nonchalant, but you can see right through him, and it’s clear from the way Dokyeom snickers and Wonwoo coughs awkwardly that you’re not the only one who sees Mingyu’s info fishing for what it is.

“I’m single,” you confirm.

“Really?” Mingyu’s eyes widen. “Sorry, it’s just, you’re a powerhouse in the industry and you’re absolutely gorgeous. I would have thought you’d deal with a lot of rich, powerful clients trying to use having you as an agent to get you out for a drink.”

“I’m sure we’ve all had to fight off those kinds of buyers,” you tease, knowing that with Mingyu’s face, he’s no doubt something like catnip to divorced milf’s looking for a pleasurable way to spend their settlements. 

Mingyu opens his mouth to say something but Wonwoo lightly grabs your forearm. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

The atmosphere immediately shifts, and once again, tension floods between you and your ex.

“Of course.” You gently pull yourself out of Wonwoo’s grasp.

“Follow me,” he instructs.

Wonwoo leads you up the stairs to the second level, taking you to the guest bedroom and into the ensuite, which you think is a little extreme, but he had wanted privacy so you guess him locking the door behind you isn’t fully out of bounds.

“Are you-” you begin to ask, but suddenly Wonwoo pushes you up against the wall, boxing you in with his hands on either side of your head, “Jealous?” the word slips out breathlessly. 

Wonwoo scoffs, shaking his head. Then he releases a deep sigh. “When Dokyeom invited you to this, I didn’t think you’d take it as an opportunity to hit on my coworkers.”

“Are you sure I was the one doing the flirting?” you counter. “Mingyu came onto me.”

“And you lapped up the attention.”

“I hate to remind you of this, but I’m single. We aren’t together anymore Wonwoo, so I can do what I want.” 

He stares at you, and your skin prickles with the realization of how close he is to you. God, he’s so beautiful, and your heart melts while you look at him.

Wonwoo was never a jealous man, but when you were dating, you never gave him a reason to be.

“So you want to fuck Mingyu then?” he asks.

With the ego has come vulgarity, and you scoff loudly at his words. “No, I don’t want to fuck Mingyu.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I think you need new glasses.”

The side of his mouth quirks up in a half smirk as he lets out a small chuckle. “Are you having fun toying with me, honey?”

“If I was toying with you, you’d know it,” you retort, confidence surging through you. “For example, I’d do this.” You hook your fingers in his belt, pulling him even closer.

Wonwoo releases a deep groan, his lips just inches from your own.

You stare at each other, fighting your pride over which one of you will finally close the distance between your mouths-

A knock on the door startles you, and Wonwoo pulls away. “We’ll have to finish this another time,” he says curtly. “This is an open house, and we’re both professionals.”

“Yes,” you swallow thickly, fixing your dress and willing your thundering heart to relax. “We are.”

Four:

After your run in with Wonwoo, Seungcheol had caught you on your way out of the open house. He’d asked if you would have time to meet him for a drink, so here you are, getting dolled up to go meet the CEO of SVT co for what you can only imagine will be a business proposal.

He’s asked you to meet at a new development, one of the largest new buildings going up in New York. As far as you know, it’s almost complete, and there has been much discussion within agency circles about who convinced the developer to take on the project.

When you arrive and find Seungcheol waiting for you outside the building, you’re pretty sure you know who landed the deal.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asks, pulling you in for a hug.

God, he’s beefy and smells expensive, but you push the thought from your head as he welcomes you into the new building while you chat pleasantries.

“I think congratulations are in order,” you muse as he guides you to the elevator.

“Maybe numerous congratulations if we both play our cards right,” he smiles.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you reach the penthouse, and your breath catches as you enter. Much of the interior is done, but there’s been no staging yet, other than all the fixtures, the only out of place thing in the penthouse is a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the kitchen counter.

“So, there are four penthouses in all,” Seungcheol explains as he starts to give you a tour, explaining comps, pricing, developer expectations and how ‘this marble was imported from Italy’ and ‘these appliances are top line French,’ and you kind of enjoy how grandiose he is.

“So give me your proposal,” you suggest with a smile when the tour finishes back in the kitchen. 

Seungcheol laughs. “You’re straight to the point, I like that.”

He begins to work on the champagne.

“Usually I’d open this after doing a deal, but I think the tour merits a drink,” Seungcheol muses. 

“I bet you think it will help butter me up too.”

“Maybe.” He’s so extremely handsome when he smiles, and he pours you a glass of champagne. “So here’s the deal. I want you on my team. Your reputation speaks for itself.”

“Don’t tell me you’re offering me the penthouses.”

“I’m offering you the penthouses,” he confirms. “If you join SVT Co, I will name you manager of getting these units sold. I’ll give you your own team, help with marketing, you name it, I’ll give it to you. The developer wants these sold at around two hundred million a pop, and if you get these sold, it’s enough commission to retire the next day if you wanted to, but something tells me you’re in this game for the long run.”

“You’d be correct about that,” you smirk as you take a sip from your glass.

“When you join SVT Co, you’ll be in charge of everything it takes to get these sold. You represent the developer, and you’ll need to find buyers, but with a building of this calibre, buyers will come to you. So sure, it will be work, but think of it as a signing bonus.”

“I’m intrigued,” you confess. “Won’t your employees be mad you’re bringing a new agent in and giving her the listing of the year?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “I want to grow, and I love my agents, they’re wonderful, but sometimes it takes new blood to get things going into motion.”

“I’ll consider your offer.”

“You’ve got fourty-eight hours to consider it,” Seungcheol tells you, gently clinking his glass against your own.

You’re giddy with the possibilities of taking on this job, and Seungcheol lets you stay to look over the place as he goes to a meeting. You’re checking out the master suite when your phone rings, and you see Wonwoo’s caller ID.

“He offered you the penthouses, didn’t he?”

“No hello, how are you doing? Straight to questions, huh?” you laugh.

“I have Seungcheol’s location, I figured there was only one reason for him to go to the penthouses this late, and I noticed he pulled you aside before you left the open house, it didn’t take much to figure out what was going on,” Wonwoo says smoothly.

“You’re quite the little stalker, aren’t you, Wonwoo?”

“So shoot me, I’m curious.” You hear Wonwoo let out a breath. “Did you accept?”

“I’m thinking about it,” you muse, walking over to the windows to look out at the view of New York.

“Looks like maybe we’ll be working together after all.”

“Would you want me to come work with you?” you question. “You were pretty pissed at the open house when your coworkers were hitting on me.”

“They won’t hit on you anymore.”

“Why not?” you grin.

“Because you’re mine.”

“Really? I don’t remember signing over my rights in the contract I sent over for the apartment.”

“You’re mine because I’m yours, and inequity isn’t in my wheelhouse.”

You can hear him smiling on the other end of the line, and it intrigues you. 

“Listen, the reason we broke up was distance,” Wonwoo sighs. “But I came here, to New York, to be close to you again. We could be a powerhouse together. We’ve already done one deal, if you come to SVT Co and we continue to double end things…”

He trails off, but you’re on the same page. The money you could bring in would be huge.

“I’ll tell you what I told Seungcheol,” you say finally. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Well, I’ll send you my address if you end up deciding, but I assume Seungcheol gave you a time frame to respond, and I’ll give you the same countdown.”

“Fourty-eight hours it is,” you muse. 

“Honey?”

“Yeah?” You hold your breath.

“I look forward to hearing from you.”

Five:

Money and prospects make you horny, so here you are, in bed, your vibrator in your hand as you think about Wonwoo and the future.

Sure, his coworkers and boss are very hot too, but you still have a soft spot for Wonwoo. He was right when he said your breakup was due to distance, but before that, your relationship had been a dream.

You were young then, still in school, nearly broke- but you’ve both grown up since then. 

You start to think about Wonwoo in his suits, and you wonder what he looks like with his shirt off now. You press the vibrator harder against your clit, groaning as you consider what his hands will feel like against your body.

He’s gotten more dominant since you were in university, that much is clear. How will that dominance come out in the bedroom?

You rub the toy against your core, but your body isn’t reacting how it normally does. Part of you knows you have access to Wonwoo, that you could call him right now and experience the real thing instead of day dreaming about it, and the thought of real life sex with your ex makes your imagination seem pale in comparison.

With a groan, you sit up, and within fifteen minutes, you’re dressed and getting in an Uber to go to Wonwoo’s apartment.

It takes a bit of courage to ring the dial pad up to him, but a quick “Hey, it’s me” prompts him to hit the buzzer to let you in.

Your heart is racing in the elevator, your palms getting sweaty, and you adjust your dress, making sure your breasts are pushed up. Not that you think you’ll have to entice him like this, but it’s kind of fun to get dressed up to go seduce your ex boyfriend.

He opens the door to his apartment before you even have to knock, and he leans on the frame, grinning while his eyes look you up and down.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi yourself,” you grin. “Are you going to let me in, or what?”

Wonwoo steps back and waves a hand.

He’s still in work attire, but a more laid back version, just navy blue dress pants and a white buttonup. He’s also without his signature glasses, and without the frames to accentuate his cheekbones, he looks softer. Something about the casual yet sophisticated look makes you feel like drooling as you enter the nice apartment.

“Twenty-four hours,” Wonwoo muses as he closes the door behind you. “I figured you’d take the full fourty-eight to make a decision.”

“I’ve been given two proposals. Join SVT Co, and get back together with you. Who’s to say I’m here to confirm both? What If I’m here to say yes to one and no to the other?” you counter.

“I say,” Wonwoo grins. “I say you’re here to confirm both.” 

You set your things down on a chair in the kitchen, removing your jacket and turning to look at Wonwoo who eats you up with his eyes again.

“Or maybe I’m here to rub it in that I’m going to decline both offers,” you smirk. 

“Perhaps, but if that were the case, you wouldn’t be giving me your ‘come fuck me’ eyes.” He crosses his arms over his chest and you note his forearms, which are visible with his rolled up sleeves. God, he’s definitely been working out at the gym.

“I don’t have ‘come fuck me’ eyes,” you laugh, but your skin prickles with embarassment.

“No?” Wonwoo walks closer to you, and you back up, allowing him to box you in against the counter with his hands now flat on the tables edge on either side of you.

“No,” you state, but there’s little conviction in your tone.

“The other day, you said I grew some balls and an ego to match,” Wonwoo muses, moving even closer so you can feel his breath against your face. “At least I’m ballsy enough to admit I want you back. Are you too proud to admit you feel the same way?” A grin spreads across his lips as he looks down at you. “Or do you just lack balls?”

You can’t hold yourself back anymore, you grab your face and smash your mouth to his. He kisses you back desperately, his hands finding your hips as he tugs your body flush to his own.

The two of you know each other, and sure, years have passed and things have changed, but he kisses you with just as much fiery desire as he always has, and you move in tandem.

Both of you groan, and Wonwoo’s hands slip down to your ass. He lifts you up, setting you on the kitchen counter. Your thighs spread to welcome him in, your tight dress hiking all the way up to expose your pantie clad core to the man that begins to grind against you while you make out.

Your heart is racing faster than it has in years, and you break the kiss to breathe while Wonwoo’s lips move to your throat. He licks and sucks on your skin, making you shiver with pleasure, and one of his hands slips between your bodies, finding your pussy.

He rubs your clit through your panties and you moan desperately, clinging to his broad shoulders.

“I missed your sounds,” Wonwoo groans in your ear, prompting you to also shove a hand between your bodies so you can cup his hard cock. Now it’s his turn to make a noise of pleasure, and the sound makes you practically vibrate.

“I missed yours too,” you tell him, wiggling your hips to get more stimulus on your clit.

“Fuck this,” Wonwoo cusses, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the kitchen counter. You marvel at his strength, and you cling to him as he carries you to his bedroom where he tosses you onto the bed.

He looks down at you, at your exposed thighs, at the dress scrunched up by your hips. 

“I’ve thought about this,” Wonwoo admits, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “About what it would be like when I got to have you again.”

“And?” you grin.

“You look even better than I imagined.”

“I’ll feel better too,” you tease, eyes dipping to his torso as he shrugs off his buttonup. “We’ve both grown, in more ways than one.”

“You can say that again. You never used to be the girl who liked tight dresses, push up bras, and thongs.”

“And you were never the man in a suit pursuing a largely social profession,” you counter.

Wonwoo chuckles, and he joins you on the bed, closing you in as you grab him by the back of his neck and draw his lips to yours again. Your hands quickly begin to explore, tracing each new bulging muscle into your memory.

The kiss becomes heated extremely quickly, and Wonwoo pulls back, both of you breathing hard. He grabs the bottom of your dress and gingerly begins to pull it up and over your head. Both of you wear expensive clothing now, so there’s no tearing or rough tugging, and when he throws it, he aims for the armchair next to the bed.

Then he returns his lips to yours, and you thread your fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

Wonwoo lets out a deep groan, his mouth moving to your throat, and then down to your cleavage. He reaches under you, undoing the clasp of your bra with one hand, and then that too is removed.

Your nipples pebble to the cool air of his apartment, but his hot mouth finds one a moment later, and you both groan deeply.

No man has ever been as into body worship as Wonwoo was when you were together, and you give yourself over to the way he takes his time with you. He massages your neglected breast with a large, warm hand, his thumb teasing the sensitive bud while his mouth continues on the other.

You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you can’t help but wriggle your hips, a silent plea for him to continue the descent that you know is coming.

Wonwoo laughs, pulling away from your breasts to look up at you. “Someone is eager.”

“I need you,” you whimper. 

“I’ve waited years to hear you say that again,” Wonwoo groans with pleasure, kissing down your body until he reaches the waistband of your thong. He gingerly tugs it off of you, sinking to the foot of the bed, his knees on the floor as he drags you to the edge.

You’re fully naked now, and it feels so natural to be nude with Wonwoo.

There’s no anxiety, no hesitation, only lust and anticipation.

He slowly kisses up  your thigh, spreading your legs with his large hands. When he reaches your core, he looks up at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and then, he dives in.

He holds nothing back, lapping and sucking at your pussy with the appetite of a starved man. 

You can’t help the whimpers and moans that immediately escape you, your hands reaching down so you can tangle your fingers in his hair, keeping him locked to your core.

For every man you’ve ever met, you’d go so far as to say you prefer vibrators to a mouth on your clit, but fuck, Wonwoo knows what he’s doing. It’s as if he only ate you out yesterday, and he maneuvers your body like an expert, knowing exactly what you like. You suppose your sexual tastes haven’t changed in the years since you were with him, and the fact that he remembers your preferences makes your stomach twist into pleasurable knots.

He sucks on your clit while you moan and writhe, and soon, he’s groaning too. Ever the giver, Wonwoo receives pleasure when he’s making you feel good, and that only turns you on more.

Soon, you’re close to the edge, and you’re shocked at how easy it is to fall back into this familiar pace with Wonwoo.

“I’m close!” you warn him, tugging harder on his hair and earning more groans of pleasure, the vibrations stimulating your clit even more.

He sucks roughly on your clit, and your thighs twitch, muscles pulling tight before the release that comes just seconds later.

You gasp loudly, your thighs closing around his head, toes curling as waves of pleasure surge through you like electric heat.

Wonwoo doesn’t let up, and your legs tightening around his skull don’t dissuade him either, he works you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulation, until you’re nearly shaking, your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours, then he pulls back.

You’re both breathing heavily, and you slump down against the bed, heart racing as you try to collect yourself.

You watch as Wonwoo licks his lips clean, and then he stands, slowly working on his pants and giving you time to recuperate.

In a moment, he’s as naked as you are, and you realize his shoulders and arms aren’t the only thing that’s grown. Somehow, his cock has even gotten bigger, and your core twitches with desperation.

“Move up by the pillows, honey,” Wonwoo prompts, and you do as you’re told, wiggling up so you’re more comfortably resting in the centre of the bed.

Wonwoo gets on top of you, and your legs wrap around him, your hands once more drawing his lips to yours.

There’s something sinful but sexy about the taste of your pussy on his lips as he kisses you, and he pushes his thigh up toward your core so you can rub against him.

You moan desperately against his mouth, tugging on his hair and earning moans from him too.

You rub on him until he removes his thigh, replacing it with his hand, and two long fingers easily slip into your soaked hole, making you whimper.

“I missed making you cum,” Wonwoo growls, his lips moving to your throat. “Missed your sounds, and the way your pussy clenches around me. Missed the insatiable way you wiggle, how needy you are to cum.”

You can’t even find the words to respond, all you can do is grab at him and moan, mind and body both pleasantly overwhelmed by him.

He crooks his fingers up toward your g-spot and you choke on your own sounds, core clamping down on his digits.

“This is still the spot, huh?” Wonwoo chuckles. “We haven’t changed that much, have we?”

He strokes the spot repeatedly while sucking on your throat, and he grinds his palm against your clit, creating the perfect frenzy of pleasure that has you gasping and writhing beneath him again in record time.

“You’ll cum for me again, right, honey?” Wonwoo asks. “I won’t fuck you until you do.”

“I’m close,” you confess, grabbing his bicep and squeezing, loving the way his muscles bulge.

“That’s my girl.” 

Your body shivers at his words, and you love the way he’s claimed you. If it was anyone else speaking to you like this, you might get mad. You’ve created a reputation as a force to be reckoned with, as a businesswoman who bows for no man- but perhaps, you can bow for your ex. For your first love. Who has done so much to come back into your life, to chase you to the big city to pursue a relationship that only ended because your goals had outgrown the town where you had fallen in love.

He continues to finger fuck you, perfectly stimulating your g-spot and your clit, and soon, you’re tipping over the edge again, your pussy squelching with wet pleasure as ecstasy rocks through you. 

You grip him tightly like an anchor while your body flutters and contracts, mind numb except for the pleasure Wonwoo can uniquely provide for you.

“That’s it,” he coos, kissing your throat and making you shiver.

He works you through your second orgasm, and like the first, he’s an expert of knowing when it’s about to become pained pleasure, when he’s crossing the boarder into overstimulation, and at that point, he retreats.

Wonwoo sits up, licking his fingers clean with a groan and giving you time to recuperate. 

“You’re still on birth control?” he asks.

“Yes, and STI free.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Me too.”

“Then fuck me.”

“I’m getting to it,” he grins. 

You love how playful this is, as if no time at all has passed since you last slept together.

He slots between your thighs again, and you welcome him into a heated kiss while he grabs the base of his cock, lining up his tip with your wet, awaiting core.

He pushes into you easily, not wasting a moment, his full cock entering you until his hips are flush with your own.

You groan desperately into the kiss, your pussy clamping down like a vice on his cock. 

“Feels good?” he asks.

“Feels amazing,” you confirm. 

He grins when he presses his lips to yours again, and he slowly begins to thrust. You whimper with each bottom out, loving how thick and long he is, filling you up exactly right.

Wonwoo laces his fingers with yours, drawing your hand above your head, where he locks it in place, keeping you partly imobalized as he fucks you. You love that he has the power, love that even while being more dominant, he’s still as soft as he’s ever been.

Wonwoo is, without fault, a lover who leans on the gentle side. He praises, never degrades. He checks in on you, and knows your limits.

For so long, you suppressed the love you felt for Wonwoo, but it’s as if the floodgates have opened, and all of those memories and feelings come rushing back in, washing you with a warm feeling that is blooming deep in your abdomen after being neglected for so long.

His pace increases, and he squeezes your hand, betraying how much he’s needed this too.

But then he pulls back, looking down at you with eyes full of adoration. He gently adjusts your thigh on his hip, lifting it so he can drape your leg against his shoulder. He kisses your calf and repeats the motion on the other side, then leans over you again, folding you in half.

Now, his cock reaches even deeper, spreading you open deliciously. 

You whimper, grabbing at the bed sheets to ground yourself as he slowly fucks into you, making sure he hits your deepest spots with every thrust.

“Fuck, Wonwoo!” you groan.

“You look so good like this, honey,” he tells you. “Taking me so well.”

Your core pulses around him again, body reacting to the praise.

“Fuck,” he cusses, fucking you even harder. 

Mating press isn’t a position you have had much experience with, but God does it feel good.

The deep angle, the closeness-

Your entire body is starting to feel electrically charged again, the knots twisting in your stomach.

“You close again, honey?” he chuckles.

“It just feels so good,” you whimper desperately.

“Well, how about this, you cum, and I’ll cum with you.”

With a shaky nod, you adjust slightly, reaching between your bodies so you can rub your clit.

The first contact makes you throw your head back, eyes clenching shut from the stimulus, core throbbing around Wonwoo again, who lets out a deep moan.

“Just like that,” he tells you. “Keep doing that.”

You rub your clit even harder, loud whimpers and whines escaping you now. Each second is a step closer to the edge, for both of you, and you give yourself to the oncoming pleasure.

Despite being mentally prepared for your orgasm, it still rocks you to the core when it hits, and it’s the most intense of all three highs you’ve experienced tonight.

Your thighs shake, your heart thundering in your chest as your core contracts desperately around Wonwoo.

In a sudden movement, he releases your legs from your shoulders, returning to missionary so he can press his lips against yours, muffling your sounds as he explodes inside of you.

You thread your fingers through his hair, desperately clutching at him as you ride out your orgasms together, completely enraptured in the pleasure you both give each other.

You’re not sure how long you cum for, but even when you’re finished, you’re still passionately kissing Wonwoo, and neither of you pull away. You continue to make out even as your heart rate lessens, and your core stops throbbing, and something about that feels so right.

Wonwoo is the one to finally break the kiss, groaning and burying his face against your throat.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you too,” you tell him, stroking his back as you fight back tears.

You’ve never been one to be emotional after an orgasm, but with Wonwoo, the feelings come strong and naturally. You’re unable to fight it as your body betrays the need you’d tried for so long to suppress. 

“I knew we’d get back together,” he muses.

“Oh?”

“The tension between us when we met again after all these years… I knew you still loved me, and if it makes you feel better, I never stopped loving you either.”

You let his words sink in as you stroke his shoulders, holding him tightly with a grip on his hips that is unrelenting.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck, looking down at you with a smile. “Also, don’t get mad.”

“What?” you freeze.

“I may have accidentally marked your neck.”

“What?”

“A hickey.” His fingers gently brush the spot he’d been sucking on earlier. “Oops.”

If it were from any other person, a hickey would have sent you off the handle, but you can’t even bring yourself to be mad at Wonwoo, and soon, you find yourself giggling. “I guess we haven’t grown that much since University if you’re still giving me hickies,” you tease.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, stroking your face lovingly.

“I’ll call Seungcheol tomorrow and accept the job.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking about my boss at a time like this,” Wonwoo laughs.

“I’m not. I’m thinking about our future together,” you chuckle.

“I guess that’s not so bad.” Wonwoo presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Not so bad at all.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I hope the real estate lingo was easy enough to follow :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Wonwoo’s coworkers still flirt with you playfully, but it’s only to ever earn a reaction out of your generally stoic boyfriend. You and real estate are the only two things he is possessive of, and your boyfriend is quick to wrap his own arm around your waist and tug you away from his friend.

cw/ tw.Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, masturbation, pussy eating, multiple sex positions, gentle spanking, slight manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, I petnames. (hers) honey.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 160

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You’ve been with SVT Co for two years now, and the money and deals have been flowing as easily as ever. To congratulate the rise in the company’s status in New York, Seungcheol is throwing a huge party, so here you are, all dolled up with your sexy boyfriend on your arm as you bask in the glow that is pure success.

“Congratulations on that recent double-ended sale you two did,” Dokyeom grins, pulling you in for a hug before looking at Wonwoo. “Although he had the easy job since you brought him the buyer, I think.”

His coworkers love to tease him like this, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“When are you going to bring me a buyer?” Mingyu jokes, nudging your arm and shuffling closer to you.

“When you start taking interesting listings,” you fire back, gently elbowing him in the ribs.

Everyone laughs at the way Mingyu fakes pain from the gentle touch, and then his arm moves around your shoulders.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.5k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@meowniee - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi - @stellaoo

I'm also taggling those who I thought might like this :)

@bobathi - @amazinggraxia - @bluempire425-blog -

@twililty - @cheolaholic - @babieculture

@meowniee - @ridenotpark - @ollieollieoctopus

@axo-l0tl - @blspphr3 - @roseandpeaches

The clinic is still. Morning light pours in through the frosted windows, warming the walls in soft rays of gold. You’re seated at your desk, elbow propped, chin in hand. Your coffee’s gone cold, as always.

You’ve read the same paragraph in the supply report three times. Fuck. Was it 5 rolls of gauze or medical tape that you needed to revise? 

You sigh, shoving the paperwork back in the in-tray, deciding it’s better to check it later when you’re more awake.

It can’t be helped that your eyes move towards the examination table. And it also can’t be helped that your hand curls loosely at your lips.

Private Jeon. Wonwoo.

You can still feel him there. Can still taste the tapioca in his lips. Can remember the weight of his hands on your jaw.

Last night, everything in the world narrowed to just that moment, quieting down to just the thump thump thump of your beating hearts.

Wow.

Thump is absolutely not a medical term.

You glance at the mirror. There is a mild flush in your cheeks, signalling that your body temperature is slightly elevated. On instinct, you press two fingers against your pulse. Yeah, it’s a little quick.

Textbook symptoms, really.

Your inner monologue reaches for your medical education—tries to diagnose. “Increased epinephrine levels. Heightened dopamine response. Reduced cortical inhibition.”

But that’s bullshit.

It’s really not about your brain.

It’s your heart. Plain and simple.

And it’s a disorder.

You lean back with a quiet sigh, trying to will your heart rate down as you snatch the report back and skim the page again. But there’s a current under your skin that won’t settle.

It’s only 9 a.m, and you already know—today’s going to be rough.

Late morning rounds take you across the main field, clipboard tucked under one arm as you make your way toward the perimeter, checking off equipment stations and medical kits stationed at drill zones. You’ve done this a hundred times before.

But today, something feels different.

Maybe it’s the stupid sun, the way it makes everything too bright. Or maybe it’s because you’ve been on edge since the second you walked in.

You’re halfway down the stretch when you hear a familiar voice.

“Morning, doc.”

You stop.

It’s the anomaly.

Wonwoo is on the other side of the chain-link fence, one hand curled around the wire, the other pushing his hair back under his beret. He’s sweaty from drills, skin flushed, forearms streaked with dust.

Last time you saw him here, he took a ball to the head and suffered a concussion. There are thankfully no soccer balls in sight. Which is maaaybe why he has a cocky lilt to his lips. 

“You look nice today.” He says, lazy and crooked, and something in your stomach flips.

You take a slow breath before replying. “You sound very chipper for someone who probably did thirty push-ups before 7AM.”

“Fifty, actually.” He grabs his wrist and curls his arm, flexing his bicep subtly. “I’m kind of a big deal around here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, in the clinic, too.”

“Oh yeah?” His grin is so wide now. Like a cheshire cat. 

Your eyes grow wide, realizing your blunder. “No, I just meant that in the sense that you injure yourself on a regular basis."

He somehow has leaned closer now, like he’s studying the way blood has rushed towards your cheeks. Shit.

You cross your arms and huff, desperate to bring him down a peg. “You’re like the soldier with the most visits.”

“That’s actually… good to know.” He smiles and your heart has officially dropped to your ass. Why do you keep saying shit he can twist?

“So… can I visit again?“ he asks, pulling back a little as a group of soldiers walk by. “Gotta stay on top of that leaderboard.”

Your lips twitch before you can stop yourself. And just like that, you surrender, shoulders dropping with a sigh.

You meet him halfway, one step closer to the fence, and cock your head to the side. “Is the paper cut bothering you again?”

“Yes, traumatized me for life.” He lifts the finger dramatically, no cut or bruise anywhere in sight, then adds, “Might be needing very consistent follow-up care.”

“You’re out of free visits,” you deadpan.

He sighs. “Guess I’ll have to bribe the doctor.”

You eye him warily. “With what? Snickers again?”

He leans a little closer, voice dipping low, teasing. “Maybe a date instead. Off-site?”

And just like that, your heart forgets what it’s supposed to be doing.

You open your mouth—maybe to quip back, maybe to shut it down—but your phone buzzes, interrupting you both.

📞 Dara calling

“Duty calls,” you say, glancing at the screen, grateful for the out.

“Rain check?” he asks, playful, hopeful.

You pretend to think. “We’ll see if the wound flares up again.”

“I’ll rub some dirt on it,” he says with a salute.

And with that, you walk away, pulse spiking, shaking your head at him before you answer the call.

You’re scrolling through your phone in bed, aimlessly flicking through random Instagram reels when a Kakao notification pops up.

Wonwoo: If you could go on a date right now, where’d you want to go?

You stare at the message, caught a little off-guard, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

You: Wow. Straight to it huh?

📞 Wonwoo calling

Oh shit…

You sit up against your headboard, heart pounding vigorously as you swipe to answer the call.

“Hypothetically. 100% theoretical. Just helping a friend plan.” Is the first thing he says.

You chuckle. “Well, friend, it’s late and I’m tired, so you better not waste this answer.”

“Never. I’m taking down notes. Tell me.”

You sigh, think for a second. Where would you want to go, if this thing between you wasn’t so… complicated?

“I love a cute little bookstore. Somewhere quiet, no crowds. Good tea and cake.” You say. “I looove cake.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Tell your friend it’s black forest.”

“Got it.” You can hear the smile on his lips when he breathes, “It sounds perfect.”

You hum. “I know.”

“Can we be hypothetical again tomorrow?”

“You planning to ask me on a fake vacation next?”

“If I say Jeju, will you say yes?”

“Window seat, and get those yucky free peanuts away from me and I’m packing.”

“Done.”

You laugh, startled by how easily your heart lifts with him. “Thanks for calling me.” 

“I could do it more often. If you’re fine with it.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Private Jeon.”

Goodnight, doc.”

Two weeks pass like pages fluttering in a breeze.

You and Wonwoo never officially “decided” on anything. But whatever this is just keeps unfolding naturally, slowly, surely.

He drops by the clinic on quiet nights. Sometimes with snacks, but always with kisses.

It starts off with him asking questions he pretends are medical. You tease him about his bruised knee or the dumb way he tapes his fingers for that damn paper cut. Because he did rub some dirt on it and it did get infected. Tsk.

But then he finds a way, a moment, to lean in and press his lips against yours, lick into your mouth like he needs to be resuscitated.

You eat lunch in the cafeteria together sometimes. Not close enough and often enough to raise suspicion. Sometimes Dara joins you. But if there was one person who might be on to you, it’s the kitchen ahjumma, which shouldn’t be that alarming, you guess. She’s become so fond of him ever since he wiped out the linoleum.

Wonwoo texts often, especially before bed. You learn he’s a night owl. He learns you sometimes talk in your sleep (thanks, Dara).

Nami is right. He’s great. You realize this with every stolen glance, every corny joke you roll your eyes to, every sweet treat he brings, every sweep of his lips.

Something is definitely building. 

And it’s just so fuckin’ nice to feel like you’re healing something that belongs to you for once—not patching up others, but tending to the small, cracked places inside your own chest.

The sky is deepening into that blue-gray hour where everything feels more peaceful. The fluorescent lights inside the store buzz faintly as you linger near the fridge section, comparing two brands of vitamin water while checking your reflection in the freezer door.

You agree to meet Wonwoo at 7PM outside this GS25 near the south entrance of camp. You arrive ten minutes early, because your nerves have been wilding all afternoon as if you drank ten cans of Monster. You couldn’t stay inside your clinic any longer.

Your vitamin water is paid and the bell above the door jingles.

When you turn, he’s standing just inside the doorway, scanning the aisles carefully before his eyes land on you.

Black hoodie over his head. Gray sweats. Black mask. Glasses slightly fogged from the temperature shift.

Hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying to take up less space than he naturally does.

Your pulse kicks as his eyes crinkle like crescents.

You walk toward him, twisting the cap. “Hi.”

“Hey.” His voice is low, quiet.

“You look like you’re about to commit a felony.”

He huffs a quiet laugh behind the mask. “Don’t ask how I got clearance for this. Plausible deniability.”

“Good, because I refuse to be your accomplice.”

“Shame.” He tilts his head, amused. “I worked pretty hard for an hour alone with you.”

Your heart stutters. God.

“Let’s go,” he says softly.

The place he leads you to is small enough that you almost miss it.

A narrow wooden door, slightly crooked signage, warm yellow light spilling through the windows. Inside, old books are stacked along the walls—some shelved properly, some piled in uneven towers. The scent of brewed tea and aged paper wraps around you the moment you step in.

You turn slowly, taking it in.

“This is…” You smile, finger trailing old book spines. “You did good.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Closest I could get to your bookstore fantasy without driving three hours.”

And something about that settles warmly in your chest. He planned this. He wanted to fulfill your wish.

You choose a small table by the wall. He tugs his hood off but he keeps his mask on the entire time, even while ordering. Even while sitting across from you. 

It doesn’t register to you at first why. Being masked up is normal, especially in your field of work. Until you glance out the window and see a poster of mogu mogu from a neighboring pocha and the man across from you is imprinted there.

Oh.

He’s famous.

Right.

When the tea arrives, he attempts to sip by lifting the bottom edge of his mask just enough to sneak the straw underneath.

You stare at him.

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“You look stupid.”

“Shut up and be endeared.”

“Not when you’re drinking like a raccoon.”

He laughs and the mask shifts awkwardly so it’s higher up his nose and you see the grin in his lips and damn you feel that soft swell in your chest again. That warmth. That ease.

At some point he pulls out his phone.

“I’ve been into photography lately,” he says casually. “Did some shoots before I entered camp.”

He scrolls through photos—empty streets at night, a closed restaurant sign, a finished bottle of beer.

You notice something. A theme in the photos.

“You seem to like capturing the end,” you say quietly. 

He looks up at that. Then swipes his thumb across his phone, pictures scrolling sideways.

“Huh.” He smiles pensively. “Guess I like catching moments before they become a memory.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes you still.

You take a sip of your chamomile tea. Then, you tell him about your book collection. About the first novel you bought with your own salary. About how you annotate in the margins and argue with authors like they can hear you.

What’s funny is the way he listens like you’re the interesting one. Like you’re the one living a hundred lives inside one body, doing quiet, wonderful things for the world that are continuously documented.

No one has looked at you like that in a long time.

And maybe that’s the thread you didn’t see at first. The quiet symmetry of it.

You spend your days saving lives in stark rooms with sterile tools. He saves lives in stages and stadiums with melodies and words.

Different methods. Same intention.

And somewhere between your clinic and his studio, you wonder if maybe you’re both learning how to save something in each other too.

The air is cooler when you step outside again. You walk slower this time. Neither of you rushing to get back to camp.

You consider inviting him back to your place. The thought rises to your tongue. Too reckless. But before you can say it, he sighs lightly.

“I have to be back before midnight,” he says. “They start counting heads.”

You nod. “Right.”

You knew this wasn’t a fairytale. But this is kind of like Cinderella, isn’t it?

The alley before the south gate is dim, lit only by a flickering overhead lamp and distant glow from the guard towers.

You’re halfway through a sentence about something unimportant when he stops walking.

You turn.

And he’s closer than before, an arm immediately circling your waist, drawing you against his solid warmth.

An entire derby is racing underneath your ribs.

Slowly, he hooks a finger beneath the edges of his mask and pulls it off.

You’ve seen his face countless times. But here, like this, out in the open, in this new world… it feels different.

“Y/N,” he says softly.

“Wonwoo.”

Your heart rate spikes. You don’t need to check your pulse this time. You can feel it in your throat.

He leans in and captures your lips with own, soft and sure. His mouth presses against yours with intent, one hand sliding higher along your back as your fingers clutch at his hoodie instinctively. Your spine hits the cool brick wall behind you. Your teeth knock lightly from the impact. You both smile through the embarrassment, but unwilling to stop. 

Your hands tug the string of his hood and he closes in again—one hand resting on the wall and the other threading through your hair to cup the back of your neck. You kiss him back just as hard. Lips parting, breath mingling, tongue curling against yours and you feel it seeping deep in your skin.

Your chest is tightening, knees weakening, pulse hammering erratically against your ribs.

You think distantly: sinus tachycardia. Cortical shutdown.

For once, your brain is the least useful organ right now.

Shaking you from your noisy thoughts, he makes a low groan against your mouth and pulls you even closer. Your arms loop around his neck, letting your fingers twist the soft hairs on his nape.

When you finally break apart, you’re so wrecked. He looks destroyed. Hair wild, irises blacker than you've ever seen.

He tucks a stray tendril of hair behind your ear, smoothing the strands down.

“So hypothetically,” he starts. “If I ask you out again, would you say yes?”

You swallow, bite your lip to prevent a grin from spreading. “Hypothetically, you’ve got a 0.1% chance.”

“How do I earn the other 99.9%?”

“Kiss me again?”

So he does.

He pulls you back in, but this one is slower, a little deeper. Like he wants to make this one the kiss you’d replay tonight when you couldn’t sleep because all you can think about is Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo.

He’s right.

It is the one.

Your little sister Nami is at your doorstep, dressed in a hoodie three sizes too big and sporting the latest make-up trend with cherry-bitten lips and red blush. She is just too damn cute for your life so you envelop her in the biggest hug.

It’s been a while since you’ve planned this trip, and your heart is so full smelling the familiar vanilla scent of her shampoo.

What you don’t miss (you do miss it) is that she’s already talking a mile a minute before she even sets foot in your apartment. But you do what any older sister would do—feed her, give her clean towels, then make her help fold your laundry while she tells you about the latest drama in her thesis group.

But then of course, she finally, FINALLY, addresses the elephant in the room and makes you tell her about Wonwoo. You downplay it, you don’t know why. Tell her it’s nothing crazy. Just a bit of harmless flirting. She seems to accept it.

You feel a little guilty, not being upfront. But you’re not ready to speak whatever you have with Wonwoo to anyone else. Maybe you’re being a little selfish, but mostly you’re just being cautious. You are still in a fragile little bubble and you don’t want it to break.

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, fluffy blankets to cover your matching pajama sets.

“Please,” she begs, batting her lashes. “Can we just watch one performance video?”

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Just one.”

She immediately opens YouTube. “Omg, you have to see the ‘HOT’ live performance. They look insane in leather and red.”

You let her choose the video, half-listening as she narrates which member is which, what fan theory is trending, and how Mingyu’s biceps should be declared a public monument.

But of course there’s Wonwoo.

Fuck. Do you really need this visual?

Now that you know he is incredibly toned and buff under all of that military gear and fuck… is he a baker because those body rolls? What do you do with this information???

You’re mid-incognito crash-out when Nami suddenly gasps.

You don’t realize the screen has moved into a news video from a kpop gossip channel.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” You’re still trying to decipher why she has kicked off the entire blanket and is now perched on the edge of the couch.

It’s a grainy paparazzi video. 

[BREAKING] SEVENTEEN’s S.Coups Rumored to Be Dating Non-Celebrity Friend

You sit up straighter. A dating rumor. Nothing new in SK.

Nami clicks the thumbnail.

It’s a stitched clip. First, a masked figure walking beside a woman while bold, flashing text splashes rumors across the screen. Then a clearer video of the woman from a brightly lit cafe, the camera zooming in on her Adidas shoes. It cuts again to a grainy clip, like it’s from a street-level CCTV, this time zoomed in on her pair of shoes that people are claiming are the same. All in a bid to prove that she is the woman entering his house.

You can’t even understand it. Like what’s the big deal? But the comments underneath are vicious. 

The girl, they say, is a regular office worker. S.Coups’ childhood friend. A classmate from middle school. They even showed pictures from a school directory.

She has brown hair and kind eyes. But it doesn’t matter, because now she’s being dissected by millions. Every inch of her: her clothes, her posture, her worth.

Nami is quiet beside you.

Your gut twists.

“That’s awful,” you finally say.

Nami’s face falls. “OMG S.Coups-ie…” Is the only thing she mutters. She’s a CARAT still processing this whole taboo situation of idols being in relationships. You don’t blame her.

But it hits you differently.

Worry and fear wraps around you like a blanket.

Because with all these accusations, speculations, loud and dehumanizing, you realize something:

She’s just a girl. And S.Coups is just a man. 

Not unlike you. And Wonwoo.

Fuck.

You knew it.

He’s a problem.

A/N: WAHHHH! Tell me your thoughts! I love this couple :(

Thank you for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

P.S. My Wonwoo taglist is STILL a mess rn. I have not made the google form so if you had asked to be tagged and don’t find your @ here, so sorry and please do send me an ask instead! <3

Story Taglist:

@tea4sykes @gfgygyverff @sumzysworld @uno4wonwoo

@codeinebelle @wonvsmile @supi-wupi @youre-on-your-ownkid @twixxxpie

@moochii-daisies @backtothebluesideee @kkaetnipjeon @libbieminie

@peachytokki @txtttttttttttttt @livelaughloveseventeen @ateez-atiny380 @cheoliranggyu

@meltinghershey @vwintershire @marksbl00dbank @wonwooslefttiddie @lostinfakescenarios

@mslostscrolling @fairwanda @aeerio @xh01bri @softfor-svtptg

@scoupscious @mogu-mogu-mingyu @picheolin-17 @midnight-carat @stefacoustic

@jesuisstay @armycarat2612 @lllucere @coffeedepressionsoup @the8super

@yooniebub @ellauuuuveee @impossiblecollectionfan @7-teen-archi @suvakrpa

@jinnieboosworld @mikauraurr @seokcrafts @moony-mari @thatemfruitt