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hwangcore · 2 years ago

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content: cowboy!gyu, fem!reader (very fem: good girl, wearing dresses, etc.), gyu “slightly” older than the reader but never mentioned how much, pet name use, possessiveness (discussions of being “mine” or “yours”, as well as marriage), set in the late 1800s (roughly around 1899-1900, however there is no period-typical racism or sexism, and the reader is race neutral (please tell me if she is not)), mingyu is a ranch hand on reader’s family ranch, mingyu is a smoker, alcohol consumption, teasing and banter, use of miss/mister in daily conversations, reader has a father (and a mother mentioned but never present in the story), explicit language, explicit sex (mdni, 18+), oral (m and f receiving), fingering, first times, corruption, (semi)public sex, reader rides gyu and makes a joke about saving a horse, based on this hard hours i wrote (and rdr2, slightly), halloween and christmas are celebrated, reader is said to get sunburnt easily, as well as embarrassed/flushed, but it's never given a color or commented on except when mingyu can feel the heat from it, 18k words.

a/n: i’m praying for the gyuldaengies while preying on their downfall. by the end of this, hearts and pussies should be aching. amen. thank you to @heartkyeom and @junhui-recs for reading this and giving me such lovely feedback and encouragement. this is also the longest fic i’ve written, ever (double my past record, easily) so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it.

tagging: @multi-kpop-fanfics for her encouragement as well as @flowerwonu for being so sweet and wanting to read it <3

You hadn’t expected someone to come to the ranch the weekend after you’d put up the ad for your father, and you were still in thin night clothes - unpresentable, considering this would be a business exchange of some kind, and considering this was a man you’d never met.

The stranger was kind and looked down to preserve your modesty, hand still holding his cowboy hat, and he was smiling at the ground.

“Uh, you all still lookin’ for ranch hands?” He has a country drawl, though it’s slight, and his voice is smooth and deep, a little husky on the edges.

“Yes, we just put up the ad,” you press your thin dress a little closer to your chest, feeling exposed in front of this broad man, decked in work clothes and a leather belt with room for a gun - you figure it’s for a pistol, it looks similar to your father’s belt, and he normally has a gun in case the foxes and coyotes try to get too close to the coops (it was a new issue, with the property fence in disrepair and unable to be fixed, as your current ranch hands weren’t very good at building or repairs) - and his cowboy hat, cracked from what seems to be years of love and wear. “I’ll go get my father, he’s the one in charge of the business.”

“Take your time, darlin,’” the man had smiled, tapping his boot against the wood of the porch as you retreated into the house - you could see him from the kitchen window, looking around the property with curious eyes.

You got your father from where he was drinking coffee and reading the paper.

“We’ve got a man who wants to be a ranch hand,” you’d told him, and your father’s face was conflicted.

“He saw you in your night clothes?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please go get into day clothes. I’ll be inviting him into the house to talk, and since you help me make the list of chores, I’ll need you here.”

You nod, smilingly apologetically, and your father only smiles, shaking his head.

It takes a bit of wrestling to get into your underclothes and situate one of your less suffocating dresses on yourself, and when you return downstairs, your nose crinkles at the smell of smoke - your father’s favorite kind of cigarette, you could tell.

It was masked a little by the smell of coffee, and you study the stranger - his eyes are kind and he’s laughing at some story your father is recounting, hands coming to clasp together politely in his lap after he spots you and snuffs his cigarette on the ashtray to his left.

He’s leaning forward and intent, and your father spots you.

“Ah, this is my daughter, __.” He introduces you, and you nod to the man. “__, dear, this is Mingyu. He seems to be a very capable man.”

You nod. “Have you all decided on pay?”

“Not quite, miss,” Mingyu hums. “We decided we should wait to see what chores I can do comfortably and pay based on the amount I’ll do. Of course, I won’t be doing every chore I’m capable of - you all have other hands, and I wouldn’t want to step on any toes.”

You smile. “How considerate.”

His cheeks flush a little, barely visible under his tan from work in the sun. “You’re too kind, miss __. It’s only fair, I’m new ‘round here.”

“Well, we desperately need repairs on the fences and animal enclosures - we’re real worried about the foxes and coyotes trying to get to the hens, and the wood is generally old. We don’t have men who are strong and good at sturdy building,” you frown. “We also need the cows milked, the horses exercised, crops watered and fields tilled, eggs collected, stables, barns, and coops cleaned, shipments taken into town or picked up…”

Mingyu’s brows raise at your words. “Awful busy here, ain’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” you told him. “We’re a busy ranch in desperate need of help. Think you can do that for us?”

He finally meets your eyes - for the first time since yours had comically widened when you’d met him at the door and he’d looked down to abate your embarrassment. “Yes, miss, I believe I can help.”

You smile. “What can you do?”

“All of that and more, miss,” he smiles warmly, his nose scrunching up slightly. “I’m awful interested in nice housing on such a pleasant ranch.”

Your father smiles. “You sure have a way with words, Mr. Mingyu,”

“Ah, I’m not so good with ‘em,” Mingyu admits. “I’m better with action, and I’ll work hard and diligent.”

You nod, and your father does too when you meet his eyes.

“Well, it’d be a pleasure to have you as a hand ‘round here, Mr. Mingyu,” you tell him, and you hand your father the list of ranch hands and payroll. “My father will help you get all settled.”

“Of course, miss,” Mingyu smiles. “I don’t want to keep you from your day.” He pretends to tip his hat, which is sitting next to the ashtray, and you stifle a giggle.

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Mingyu,”

“I’m sure,” he smiles once more before turning his eyes to the yellowing paper your father shows, and their voices hush as they discuss the details of housing and work. You weren’t ever privy to this, but you knew your ranch had more than enough money to provide for those who worked hard for you.

Your chores for the day are mainly with counting products and packaging shipments, checking off orders, and ensuring the money for bills is set aside.

You know the hands tend to start the day they’re hired with the assistance of a senior hand, on easy tasks such as cleaning the stable, so it comes as a shock to glance out from the office’s window and see Mingyu repairing a section of fence, sweat slick on his brow.

It was hard work, heavy lumber being driven into the ground and slotted together, but he hoists each piece with minimal effort.

It’s an almost Herculean task to stop from ogling him when you notice his union suit is unbuttoned and resting by his hips. You watch as he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow, showing a hint of tanned washboard abs.

You do manage to look away though, focusing on having to rewrite the number of peaches because you miscounted while you were looking at Mingyu.

You sigh, fanning your face from the heat you can feel blooming, and the office suddenly feels too stuffy - you were done with counting, and it was really just sorting the slips so the hands could easily figure out what shipment needed which package and when it needed to be taken into town.

Grabbing the slips and your inventory ledger, you make your way out onto the porch and sit on a rocking chair that your mother is fond of, a pretty dark oak that’s been stained with care and doesn’t creak much.

You’re deep into your writing and organization when you hear the stomp of boots on the porch, spurs clicking as their heels hit the wood, and you glance up to see Mingyu.

His union suit isn’t unbuttoned to his waist anymore, and he’s fixing his shirt. “Anything I can help you with, miss?”

“I’m alright, mister,” you smile at him, shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun behind him as you look at him. His cheeks are still a little red from his exertion, and there’s drops of sweat dotting his skin - you watch one roll down his neck with interest. “I saw you working on the fence.”

He shrugs, smiling bashfully and scuffing his boot against the planks underfoot. “I know I can do it well, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? I’m grateful!” You tell him excitedly, and he looks up at you warmly. “We’ve been so worried about the hens, and you repaired the section right by them - it’ll keep them a little safer before we get the whole fence repaired.”

“I can go work on other sections,” Mingyu offers, hands in his pockets as he leans against one of the posts holding up the roof. “Not too hard on me.”

“‘S alright,” you smiled at him. “It’s almost supper, and I’m sure you’re starving. Fencing takes a while. We know that.”

He nods, removing his hat to run a hand through sweaty hair. “We got a way to take baths here?”

You laugh. “Yeah, there should be one in the house my father put you in, but we’ll pay for you to go to the bath house in town if you want a nicer one,”

Mingyu grins. “I appreciate it, miss.”

“Please, just call me __.” You sigh. “Miss makes me feel old.”

He raises a brow. “How old are you, darlin’? if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“I’m twenty, sir,” you smiled up at him, and he’d sighed.

“You’re a bit younger than me, then. But don’t be callin’ me sir,” he’d huffed. “If you’re just __, I’m just Mingyu, sweetheart.”

You’d felt your cheeks burn at the familiarity and the pet name. “That ain’t proper, mister.” You frowned. “I have to be polite, you’re older than me,”

“I’m sayin’ it’s alright, sweetheart,” Mingyu smiled, crossing his arms against his chest. “I’m just Mingyu. Use my name, it makes me happier than being called mister.”

You’d felt your cheeks burn again. “Alright, Mingyu,” you give in, and his smile makes it worth the embarrassment of being so familiar with a man you don’t know. “I’ll try not to call you mister.”

“And I’ll call you by your name, darlin,’”

You don’t think he will, not with his penchant for pet names, but you nod - it’s not like you minded the pet names, they were as sweet as honey on his tongue and made your heart flutter, hearing them from such a handsome man.

“Are you ready for supper, Mingyu?” You ask shyly, and he smiles.

“Yes, __,” he tilts his head. “Are you cooking it?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer automatically, and you smile apologetically at him. “You can sit and take a break, or wash up and come back for food.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “I’ll help you. I’m told I’m a good cook.”

You smile. “You’re a man of many talents then, aren’t you?”

“Naw, don’t flatter me,” Mingyu’s drawl thickens. “I’ll get a big head, being complimented by a pretty girl like yourself.”

Your cheeks are on fire at this point, you’re sure. “Do you always flirt with your employers?”

“Only the employer’s pretty daughter,” Mingyu corrects, standing up straight. “What are we making?”

You stand and dust off your dress, packing up all your slips and your ledger - you leave them sitting on the chair to grab later. “We’re making a steak, some potatoes and greens, and we have wine. I hope that’s to your liking.” You turn to smile at him, and Mingyu’s already looking at you.

“Sounds great, sweetheart,” Mingyu steps closer to you, and you stiffen at his closeness - you can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

He steps back a moment later, and you notice he’s grabbed your things for you.

“Where should I put this?” He lifts them, and you eye the flex of his forearms for a second - you feel guilty for the unholy things your mind easily wanders to, but you push them aside.

“Um, in the office, please. To the left of the entrance.”

“You got it, darlin.’” Mingyu beams at you. “Just tell me what to do. I take direction real well.”

You chuckle and nod. “I’ll keep it in mind, mister.”

He frowns at that, but you barely catch it - busy taking out seasonings and supplies to cook with, and he comes back into the kitchen with quiet steps: when you turn to look, you’ve noticed his boots are gone.

“I didn’t want mud on your floors,” he tells you, and you smile.

“Thank you, mister.”

He sighs. “My name is Mingyu, sweetheart, use it.”

You wince. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“No need to apologize,” he waves his hand. “Just call me Mingyu from now on.”

He’s done washing his hands now, and looks expectantly at you, where you’re cutting the potatoes and prepping them to bake.

He takes the seasonings you hand him and quickly makes a rub for the steak, and you’re shamelessly staring at his arms and the quick movements of his hands.

When Mingyu glances at you, you turn your head away and work on snapping the asparagus.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence prepping the food, with only the sizzling of the meat when he puts it in the skillet to fill it.

It smells fantastic, and more fragrant than normal - you figure he really must be good at cooking, because you smell spices and flavors you never do with steak.

He starts humming at some point, and it sounds like one of those songs made on the road - singing about whatever you pass by to entertain yourself during days or weeks on horseback.

“Mister,” you say, and he doesn’t respond. “Mingyu?” You try when you remember, and he hums softly. “Are you a real cowboy? Or just a farmhand?”

“Cowboy,” he laughs. “What brought this about?”

“Well, my father told me about stabling your horse while I was working earlier - we have a stall for her, by the way - and that song seems like one made during weeks on the road.” You shrug. “Just curious about you.”

“Well, it’s real flattering to have a pretty girl like you want to know about me.” He flips the steak. “I was a hunter and trader, and went about doing bounties at some times - only the ones wanted alive, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I felt mean doin’ that, though,” he frowns, brow furrowing. “Even if they’re criminals, manhandling them made me feel bad.”

“Manhandling?” Your brows raised.

“Y’know, grabbing them and lassoing them, tyin’ them up and bringing them to the sheriff.” Mingyu curses quietly. “Shit, this ain’t no topic for conversation with a lady. I became a ranch hand to get a good, consistent income that doesn’t make me do that.”

You hum, throat feeling dry. “You must be real strong, mister.”

“You saw me building the fence, didn’t you?” He sends a glance your way.

You stiffen, before remembering you thanked him for his work on it. “I guess I did,” you add the asparagus next to the steak and he quickly makes sure they’re getting cooked properly too. “It’s interesting though. And I’m not a lady, not the way you think.”

Mingyu’s brows raise. “How so, darlin’?”

“I’m not afraid to do work. I help out on the ranch with the hands-on stuff too, and I’ve seen my father shoot the wild animals. I even help the cows and the horses birthin.’”

He smiles. “That’s real different from hunting down someone who has hurt people, sweetheart. But I wasn’t saying bein’ a lady is a bad thing. Just that you’re too sweet and kind for that typa job. Would hate to see your pretty face get roughed up.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your eyes and remove the potatoes from where they were baking. “You’re real forward to women you just met, mister.”

“I’ll stop,” his eyes look concerned. “I don’t mean much by it - I mean, shit,” his brows furrow and his lips purse. “You are pretty, and I do want to flirt with you but, I… damn.” Mingyu huffs. “I told you, I’m real awful with words.”

You giggle. “It’s fine, mister Mingyu. I think it’s real sweet, but you’ll have to watch your words. You could make any lady sweet on you in days.”

“Any?” He says, smiling at you. He winks, and your heart skips a beat.

“I’m not a lady,” you remind him playfully. “You’d have to work on me.”

Mingyu laughs. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

“Why, thank you,” you smile shyly. “But it’s alright, Mingyu. I know you’re just bein’ nice.”

He nods. “But I do mean it. You’re pretty.”

“And you’re a flirt, cowboy.”

“Guilty as charged.” He raises his hands. “Gonna arrest me?”

“No, I’m gonna put you to work. Cut the steak up for me and set the table and plates, please. I’m going to go get the other hands and my family,”

You felt as though you’d known Mingyu for years, and you had since he so comfortably flirted and joked with you the day he was hired.

He’s only been here for a week or so, and it’s a busy season on the ranch, so you always catch glimpses of him hurrying from task to task - though he always makes time for conversation with you if he spots you taking a break.

Now, he finds you sitting under a peach tree in the orchard, a basket next to you half full, and your eyes half closed as you lean back on the bark.

“Hello, darlin.’” Mingyu calls, setting down his baskets - they’re full of tomatoes, corn, herbs, and he’s headed to the melon fields next. “Need a hand?”

He jerks his chin to the ripe peaches above you, and you sigh.

“No, just hot. Takin’ a breather.”

Mingyu nods, wiping his brow with his arm, and you look at the tan he’s already developed in the past week, and the dirt splotches on his forearm from a long day of harvesting.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs, grabbing one of the peaches and absentmindedly catching it. “Mind if I take this?”

“We can spare a peach,” you laugh.

Mingyu smiles and pulls out a pocket knife, cutting the peach into eighths as he sits down next to you. His shoulder brushes yours, and his skin is a little sticky from the humidity.

He hands you a piece, which you eat happily, and you watch the way he savors the sweetness with a smile.

You fish a handkerchief out of your layers of clothes and wipe the peach juice from his chin, and he flushes. You just smile and wet it with some water from his flask and wipe the dirt from his forearms.

“More harvesting to do, Mingyu?” You ask, and he nods.

“Melons, and then I gotta go exercise the horses. I need to work on Taima specifically - she’s a bit stubborn, and I don’t wanna spook her or make her dislike me.”

You wince. “Taima only really likes me. She’s always been a bit of a rebellious spirit.”

Mingyu chuckles. “You’re welcome to watch me work with her. Maybe it’ll help calm her if you’re there.”

You hum. “I’ll try. Gotta make supper for tonight and let it chill in the icebox.”

He smiles. “I’ll take my time in the field, then. I’d like to see you there.”

You frown at him. “Don’t slack off on the job, mister.”

“I’m only joking,” he laughs. “But my name is Mingyu.”

“You’re mister when you’re talking about slacking off on the job,” you huff playfully, a smile toying at your lips. “You forget I’m technically your employer.”

“You’re not the one paying me,” he sing-songs, winking at you. “But I wouldn’t dare slack off. I like feeling tired after a hard day’s work, it makes me feel accomplished. And I’d hate to disappoint a pretty lady.”

“I’m not a lady, Mingyu,” you corrected, huffing.

“A lady in comparison to me and my properness, then,” Mingyu drawls. “A cowboy doesn’t have much on the etiquette of a ranch owner.”

You smile. “But a cowboy has more life skills and that ruggedness women like. I’d say it’s better than being sheltered.”

“All women?” He raises a brow. You shrug, face burning. “Well, I hope my cowboy charms work on you then.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see, she says,” he repeats. “You’re an enigma, miss.”

“__,” you correct, standing and dusting off your white dress - it’ll have to be scrubbed later, orange dust from the clay and bits of soil stuck to the flowy fabric. “And you’re confusing too, mister,”

Mingyu pouts at you, but he knows you’re proving your point - it’s weird to not be called by your names, or pet names.

“Go finish your harvest, Mingyu. I’ll take this basket in to inventory while you finish up. I’ll go to the stables when I’m done, alright?”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart, see you in a bit.”

You smile softly and gather the last few peaches, placing them carefully so they won’t bruise or roll, and you gather your things. Mingyu’s left his pocket knife, so you grab that too.

The walk back to the main house is awful - skin sticky from the humidity, and arms tired from the weight of Mingyu’s harvest. You manage, though, and set down everything quickly.

You begin to work on a cold salad, breathing out a sigh of relief at the small comfort the roof brings - you’d need a cold shower or bath to remove the heat from your skin, though, and you fear you have a few burns that’ll need a salve too.

It’s easy prep work, and you count the harvest quickly - eager to go see Mingyu, but you tell yourself it’s only because he’s a new hand and the most capable on the ranch by far. And besides, he’s working on your horse, of course you’d want to be there.

When you arrive, he already has Taima in a halter and in the paddock, and he’s smoking a cigarette as he leans against the fence post. You admire him for a few seconds, and note that his union suit is undone to his waist again, and the fabric is stained with dirt - he must’ve undone it while he was harvesting the melons (which sit next to him in several baskets).

He hears the crush of your shoes on the gravel and immediately snuffs the cigarette when he looks up and sees you.

“She was nice enough getting her out here, it’s the training I’m worried ‘bout.” Mingyu tells you. “She gets flighty when we have a lunge whip out, but I’d never hit her,” he sighs. “I don’t even wear my spurs when I’m ridin’, for the sake of the horse.”

You smile. “That’s real sweet.”

“What is?” Mingyu asks, blinking at you and setting his hat on the post. He runs a hand through his hair - it’s wavy from the humidity and a little damp from sweat, and it’s a little long: you figure he’ll get it cut soon, but it looks attractive.

“Not using the spurs for their sake.”

Mingyu hums. “Ah, it don’t do much to be mean to your horse. They serve you well and do what you ask, why hurt ‘em?”

You smile. “It’s just not a thought most cowboys have,” you shrug. “It’s kind. You’re a kind man, mister Mingyu.”

“Ah, it’s just common decency,” Mingyu waves your compliment aside, cheeks red from your compliments and the heat. He glances at your face and the way you shield your eyes. “Do you not have a hat, miss __?”

You shake your head. “None that offer good sun protection. They’re all just to look pretty on more mild days.”

“You don’t need a hat for that, darlin.’” Mingyu walks over to you, hat in hand, and he sits it on you with a smile, adjusting it to block the glare of the sun. His hand brushes your cheeks, and he frowns at the heat he feels. “Is your skin sunburnt?”

You scrunch up your nose. “Just a bit. I burn pretty easy.”

Mingyu sighs. “Wear my hat until we head in for supper and put on a salve, dove. Don’t want you hurting your skin now.”

“What about you?”

Mingyu grins at you. “I tan more than I burn. And you look cute in it. I look like an outlaw,”

You giggle. “Outlaws have that air of mystery though.”

“Do you want a mysterious man, miss __?” He teases. “I’m not against being mysterious, but I don’t want to hurt people or rob, and outlaws do that.”

You shake your head. “I’m just sayin’ you look good in your hat.”

“And I think you look better, sweetheart.”

Mingyu climbs into the paddock and grabs the lead on Taima’s harnesses and the lunge whip.

She raises her head from grazing, hooves shuffling anxiously at the sight of the lunge whip hanging loosely from Mingyu’s hands.

“Easy, girl, I’m not gonna hurt cha.” He soothes, grasping her lead a little more tightly. He tugs it to tell her to move as he clicks his tongue, and she moves into a walk in a circle around him, head tossing and tail flicking at the lunge whip trails behind her. “Shh, you’re doing alright, good girl,” he coos, leaving more space between her and the whip.

Taima calms a little at the distance Mingyu provides, and easily moves into a jog when he commands it with an authoritative click of his tongue and a slight tug on the leather he holds.

You watch him with interest. Taima is a smart horse, hot-headed and stubborn, a beautiful black coated thoroughbred, and she’s never taken to anyone but you - but you can see the tell in her eyes and the way she’s stopped tossing her head.

She likes the way Mingyu commands her, and she’d be willing to let him ride her.

“She’d let you ride her.” You tell him when he brings her to a stop from a lope and lets her graze a bit.

He turns to look at you, smiling when you make eye contact. “Would she now?”

“Yeah, she likes you,” you confirm. “She’s not throwing a fit anymore, even if she seems nervous.”

Mingyu hums. “Well, I’m sure your word is right. She’s your horse after all,” he places the lunge whip on the fence and removes the halter, slipping a bitless bridle on in its stead. “She’s a gorgeous horse. Which way is she ridden?”

“Western,” you smile. “She’s a good ranching horse for moving cattle and sheep for selling - quick on her feet and not easily tired.”

Mingyu nods and smooths her saddle blanket over her withers before placing a Western saddle on her.

“Gonna let me ride you, girl?” He questions, petting her muzzle. She tosses her head playfully, and you grin.

“That’s a yes.” You inform him, and he laughs.

“I’m glad you speak Taima.”

“I’d hope so, I’ve had her since she was a filly.” You tell him, and he hums.

He easily mounts, and she shifts her weight to accommodate his - he carries his weight and muscle differently than you, posture more relaxed and laid back, and she nickers softly at him.

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.” He pats her neck and jogs her around the paddock a bit.

She seems pleased, tossing her head.

“She wants to lope,” you’re leaning against the fence and smiling fondly, and with a small nudge to her side, she’s picking up the pace and flicking her tail happily.

“You really are good with the horses like you said.” You praise, and he smiles, ears turning red. “Best by chance hire we’ve ever had, I dare say.”

Mingyu chuckles. “I’m real glad I took the job too, miss __.”

You two become close as summer comes to an end and you begin the last harvest before fall crops.

Some may say too close - it’s gotten to the point your father thinks that Mingyu is courting you, and he’s quite frustrated Mingyu hasn’t asked for his blessing.

“Father,” you whine. “I promise Mingyu and I aren’t courting! He’s just friendly, he’s too kind and polite to try to court me without askin’ you. I swear it.”

“Darling, he’s a cowboy and an employee here. I’m not sure if I want him courting you ever.”

You cross your arms. “And why not? He’s diligent and kind and handsome. I don’t see what’s wrong with him.”

Your father sighs. “I’m just not sure of his intentions. He first met you in your nightclothes. What if he just wants to bed you?”

Your cheeks burn. “I’m not talking to you about this. He’s not courting me, and I’m sure he’ll ask if that ever strikes his fancy. Besides, if he wants to bed me, that’s his business - and mine, if I ever reciprocate the interest.”

Your father sighs heavily, and his disappointment is loud and clear - he wasn’t a fan of the idea of sex before marriage, and had long since taught you that, but you didn’t care too much about it either way. “Since when did you start calling him Mingyu, too? No mister.”

“When he asked me to,” you tell your father. “It was a deal - I call him by his name and he calls me mine.”

“Darling, I’m just worried about you.” He attempts to placate your anger, holding two hands up.

“I’m a grown woman, father. I know very well what his intentions are. He’s too honest to lie to me.”

Your father sighs, but you turn on your heel.

You’re still fuming by the time you get to the pumpkin patch, and Mingyu raises a brow at the sight of your brow furrowed in anger and your jaw tense.

“What’s the matter, darlin?’” He questions softly, setting down his tools and placing his hands in his pockets. He rocks on the heels of his feet as he studies your tense shoulders.

“My father is prying. He thinks you’re courting me.”

Mingyu’s brows raise. “Is me courting you a bad thing?”

“Naw, but you’re not doing that. He’s mad you haven’t asked for his blessing - and he’s convinced you have ill intent, even though we’re just friendly. I guess it’s a bad thing to him. You’re an employee, and a cowboy - though, whatever the hell is wrong with that?”

Mingyu hums. “I mean, you’re not sweet on me, are you?” You shake your head. “And I guess he thinks cowboys are outlaws. I promise I’m not makin’ any moves though.”

“I know, Mingyu.” You sigh and wipe your hands on your clothes. “Let’s get to harvesting.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you curse,” he tells you after a few moments of stem snapping and hoisting the pumpkins into baskets.

“I’ve never cursed before, really,” you admit shyly. “Guess your speech patterns are rubbing off of me. It felt nice, though. Got some of my anger out.”

Mingyu rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m a bad influence, is that it, miss __? I’ve taught you naughty words.”

“You didn’t teach me anything,” you correct him sassily, hands on your hips. “I just hear it most from you.”

“I curse like a sailor,” Mingyu admits, and you laugh.

“You’re not quite that bad.”

He smiles and winks at you. “I am at times.”

“What times?”

“When I’m drunk,” he laughs. He doesn’t say more, but you can tell that’s not the only time he curses more frequently from the smile playing across his lips.

“Should I get you drunk then?”

“Do you want to?” Mingyu challenges, a mischievous glint to his eyes. “I can hold my liquor well - can you?”

You hum. “I guess you’ll have to find out someday.”

Mingyu hums, pushing the basket with his boot towards the next patch to harvest.

He starts singing - another song he’d made on the road, you assume, and you settle into a rhythm of work, listening to his rough voice hum about the turn of the leaves and the colors they paint the ground with.

It’s a nice song, fitting the coming weather and the next round of crops to be planted once the hands re-till the fields.

“You have a nice voice, Mingyu,” you tell him when he finishes his final song and the sun has dipped below the horizon.

“Ah, don’t flatter me,” he laughs. “My voice is so rough from my smokin.’” He lifts the baskets and brings them over to the wagon, where the horses have been waiting patiently all day - they’re the most well-behaved, shires, and they’re hitched to a tree next to the wagon so the harness didn’t cut into their flesh while the two of you worked.

“I mean, huskiness ain’t bad,” you laugh, lifting the next basket with effort. “I think it sounds nice.”

Mingyu chuckles. “You’re too sweet to me,”

He grips the basket and lifts it from your arms with ease, but his muscles are straining as he lifts it higher and slides it into the back of the wagon and secures it.

“I really should stop smoking.” He sighs.

“I never see you doin’ it.”

“Because I’m protecting your lungs, dove,” he chuckles, helping you into the wagon, where you perch on the bench and watch him hitch the shires with deft hands. “I don’t want you inhalin’ my smoke, you didn’t sign up for it. It’s my own bad habit.”

You smile. “You’re sweet, Mingyu.”

“Naw, being kind to a lady ain’t sweet.”

“When will you let me compliment you without denying it?”

“When it’s accurate,” Mingyu grumbles, hopping up onto the wagon next to you. He grips the reins and flicks them, guiding the horses onto the dirt road from the field back to the stables.

It’s a bit chilly, and you lean into his side for warmth.

Mingyu’s eyes are tired as he focuses on the road, and you look up at his side profile, admiring the golden tones in his skin - highlighted by the dying embers of warmth in the sky. He looks beautiful, skin glowing, and you really can’t think of what would be so wrong about him courting you, what your father is so opposed to.

He’s heart-achingly handsome, so kind and sweet and considerate - even when he denies it; he snuffs his cigarettes for the sake of your lungs; he doesn’t use spurs or any roughness on the animals; his curses and words are never pointed towards people, his speech always uplifting and soft to the people around him - and he’s strong, a diligent worker, normally out in the fields or somewhere on the ranch working, even after supper, and he rises with the sun to set to work then too.

He’s brought so much positive change to the ranch, and he also makes your life better - you’ve never laughed as much as you have in the two months you’ve known him.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you say quietly as he brings the wagon to a stop and begins unhitching the horses.

“Darlin,’” he answers softly.

“I’m glad to have met you.”

Mingyu chuckles, and you can see the pink on the peak of his cheekbones. “What brought this about, __?”

“I was just thinking - you’ve made me laugh a lot, and you’re really good for the ranch.”

He chuckles. “If I didn’t know any better, you’re the one trying to court me.”

“Neither of us are courting anyone,” you huff, grabbing the reins to one shire and following Mingyu into the stable as he leads the other. “But if any of the ranch hands wanted to court me, or was courting me, I’d want it to be you.”

“It’s the cowboy charm, isn’t it?” He teases.

“It’s the kindness to the animals.” You smile. You’re being honest, you love his kindness - but the cowboy charm, rugged and rough around the edge, voice a comforting and warm drawl, and his worn hat, is definitely part of it. “No, you’re just kind to me. You don’t treat me any different.”

“Because you’re not a lady,” he reminds playfully. “Why would I treat you differently if you’re not some prim and proper woman of high society who clutches her pearls at a swear word?”

“Because you think I’m pretty,” you’ve removed the shire’s bridle and are brushing him down.

“That’s an objective fact.”

“So is the fact you’re handsome.”

You hear Mingyu sigh, long and suffering. “Goodnight, miss __.”

“You’ll believe me someday, Mingyu,” you call after him as he goes to the wagon - he would package up the pumpkins, but his dismissal was clear. No more flirting or compliments for him.

“‘M sure,” you hear him grumble, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You’re smiling, and your body feels warm, and you realize faintly that this isn’t a normal way to feel about a friend, but you can’t pinpoint what exactly has made you feel so flushed.

You’d have to have your father check your temperature.

It’s Halloween night when you next feel that weird flush and heat - Mingyu had gotten a haircut the same week, but this is the first time you’ve seen it closely. You briefly mourn the loss of length to his hair, but the closer cut highlights his high cheekbones and his dark eyes.

It looked like he’d manicured his eyebrows too, and he’s dressed nicely - in a pressed white button-up dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and clean black dress pants.

It’s a day of drinking and fun, apple-bobbing, trick-or-treating for local kids (if any were brave enough to come out to a ranch a few miles out from town, they’d get lots of candies), and good meals.

You’d spent most of the week cooking - storing food precariously in the icebox, and you’d barely left the confines of the house, so standing outside - under the stars and a pretty crescent moon - and breathing in the crisp night air is a nice change of pace.

You’re looking at Mingyu as he grabs an apple, the way he bites into it and the tilt of his head and jaw as he keeps the water and apple juice from rolling down to his collar.

He makes his way over to you after talking to a few of the other hands.

“Why’re you all alone, darlin?’” He asks softly, and he’s holding two beer bottles.

He opens them with his pocket knife, face scrunching up as he’s careful to not crack the glass.

“I was waiting for a moment to talk to you. You’re too popular.”

Mingyu chuckles. “I saw you wave people away, miss __. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re only here for me.”

“It’s a good thing you know better, then,” you smile at him, and he hands you a beer.

“You wanted to see how I am when I’m drunk, right?”

You nod, raising a brow. “I thought you had a good tolerance though.”

Mingyu hums. “I might’ve had a few drinks before the party started. Whiskey.”

That explains why his voice is rougher and deeper than normal, and the darkness across his cheeks - you can’t see the color, it’s washed out by the moon, but you figure it’s red from the amount of alcohol he’s had.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Mingyu walks towards the edge of the party and sits on a haybale, and you follow, leaning your head on his shoulder as you settle.

He drinks the beer slowly, and the way his jaw works has that flush returning in full force.

“Drink,” he reminds you playfully, knocking his shoulder into you.

“I’m workin’ on it, mister Mingyu,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Do you just want me drunk?”

“Naw,” he chuckles. “I like you sober just fine.”

You smile as you put your lips to the mouth of the bottle, and you hum when you set it down between your feet. “Not bad. I think.”

“Whatcha mean?” Mingyu’s voice is the tiredest you’ve ever heard it, rougher and slow.

“I’ve never had alcohol,” you tell him, and his eyes widen.

“Shit, well, I would’ve gotten you a good one if I’d known. Pretty girls don’t deserve shitty beers.”

You laugh. “It’s alright. It’s nice anyways. I finally get a break from cooking and I’m sharing it with a person I enjoy spending time with.”

Mingyu smiles, and he leans his head on top of yours. Your eyes move to the moon above you, and he toys with his beer bottle, fidgeting anxiously.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Ah, nothin,’” Mingyu sighs. “‘M drunk already. I know I don’t seem it, but I can feel it. I get dumb when I’m drunk and I’m worried I’ll make a fool of myself.”

He opens his mouth like he has more to say, but the words never come.

You don’t mind, leaning into his warmth and drinking your beer in a comfortable silence.

You can hear the hubbub of people behind you - conversation, your father’s gramophone, and laughter, but it all fades away.

You’re aware of Mingyu’s scent, musky and clean and manly, and the smell of alcohol from his soft breaths, and he seems exhausted.

“Do you want to go to your house, Mingyu?” You ask softly, placing a hand on his back and rubbing soothing circles.

He stiffens slightly, but nods against you.

“Later. Wanna stay here a little longer. I’m comfortable.”

“How?” You laugh. “Hay isn’t exactly the best material for a chair.”

Mingyu doesn’t respond for a bit.

“I’m tired and you’re comfortable.” He admits. “Your presence makes me feel better.”

You frown. “How so?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer at all this time, and you can feel him slump a little - he’s not asleep yet, there’s still too much tension in his frame, but he’s weary and leaning into you.

You feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You sit him up and he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry. You wanted to talk to me and I’m no good conversation when I’m tired. I’m not even dumb and swearin’ like I normally am drunk.”

“It’s alright, Mingyu,” you giggle, standing and grabbing his hand. “You work yourself half to death for the ranch. Tonight was for relaxin’. I’ll get you some food while you go wash up and I’ll set it on your doorstep, how’s that?”

“Hand it to me, maybe,” he chuckles. “Doorstep needs to be swept, I haven’t done it in a bit.”

You nod. “I’ll get you all the fixings.”

He laughs. “You’re too sweet to me, darlin,’”

Mingyu brushes a piece of hair behind your ear and plucks a leaf from the top of your head.

He looks conflicted for a second, eyes dark as he studies your face, but he smiles.

“I appreciate it, truly,”

“And I appreciate you. You don’t have to do everything you’re capable of, you know,”

“I feel productive.” Mingyu shrugs. “I’ll go wash up. It’ll take me maybe twenty minutes, feel free to not bring me food. I’ve got plenty in my house.”

“I want to,” you reassure, and he smiles at you softly, and you feel that warmth again when he thanks you sweetly.

You didn’t know why you were standing outside Mingyu’s lodging, holding a thin silk slip over your bedclothes, but you were, and you knocked on his door.

It takes a few minutes for him to answer, but you hear him shuffling and him curse quietly as something slams.

The door opens, and he blinks rapidly at you.

“__?” He asks softly, looking at you shaking on his doorstep. Mingyu steps aside and ushers you into his housing, which is warm - there are embers in his fireplace, and the windows are sealed. “It’s freezin’ out, darlin’, why are you here?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, really,” you chew your lip. “I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to see you.”

Mingyu smiles and pats his bed. “Sit. Are you thirsty?”

“Yeah…” you admit softly, tugging his blankets over your bare thighs. It smells like him - musky and warm, but there’s a cleanliness to it too, and it relaxes you.

“Coffee?” He asks, meeting your eyes, and you nod.

He quietly makes it for you, and you hold the warm cup - grateful for any heat.

Carefully, he perches next to you on his bed, and he’s radiating heat too, so you lean into his side. He stiffens slightly under you, but his arm wraps around your waist and he looks at you, eyes soft, as you drink the coffee.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You laugh. “It’s nothin’ bad, I just… couldn’t sleep. Busy thinkin.’”

“About me?” He prompts, and you can feel your cheeks burn. “You said you wanted to see me. Why?”

You whine and hide your face from his gaze. “Why’re you asking?”

“Because I want to know if I understand your intentions right, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen. “What do you think my intentions are, Gyu?”

His mouth drops a little, and you realize you’ve never called him Gyu before.

“I think your intentions are romantic, darlin’. Are you sweet on me?”

His arm around your waist tugs you out of the crook of his neck and forces you to meet his eyes, his free hand taking your coffee mug and setting it on his nightstand.

You pout. “I… don’t know. How do you know when you’re sweet on someone?”

You grab his union suit, fingers tightening on the thin fabric, and you can feel his warmth through it.

“You think of ‘em an awful lot, you’re very fond of them. You want to be close to them and prefer their company to other’s. Maybe even want to do things that are normally reserved for marriage with them.” Mingyu’s voice is husky, and you nearly whine at the sound.

“Then… is it normal to think of a person you’re sweet on when you feel needy?” You question, voice barely audible. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Mingyu chuckles, and his hand on your waist squeezes a little tighter. “Hypothetically,” his drawl is thick with sleep and what you think might be desire, from how your girl friends have described laying with their husbands. “It’s very normal, and the person you’re sweet on would be willing to help with that need.”

You swallow. “Isn’t it bad to do that before marriage?”

Mingyu’s nose brushes your hair, and you can feel him inhale and sigh. His lips brush your ear. “Maybe, if you’re religious. Or feel like being ladylike. But you’re not religious, and you say you’re not a lady, right?”

“Hypothetically,” you breathe out, and he hums. “How do I ask a man to bed me, safely?”

Mingyu groans softly, and you feel as though your skin is bruising under his hand. He pulls back and stares you dead in the eyes. “You ask him to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen at his vulgarity, but you can feel the need you’d failed to sate early pulsing between your thighs.

“Mingyu.” You breathe out.

“Darling,” he coos softly, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Can you fuck me?” Your voice is shy, but he hears it, and he groans again.

“Gladly, sweetheart. So fuckin’ gorgeous, been thinking of you for months.”

“Have you?” You breathe out, light-headed as he noses your hair aside and kisses your neck, sucking the skin gently.

“Yeah, I have,” he seems so confident now that you’ve voiced your desires. “Such a pretty dove. Can’t help but think of you.”

You sigh. “Is… fucking rough?”

“If you want it to be,” Mingyu smiles at you. “We’ll go at your pace.”

Your hands settle lightly on his shoulders. “Can you kiss me?”

Mingyu nods, and his lips are a little chapped, and so warm, when they press to yours. He kisses you slowly and sweetly, and you feel your heart melting at the sensation, and your head going fuzzy as his big hands pull your silk slip aside.

The change makes you a little cold, but his warm palms settle on your hips and you feel like he’s searing your skin everywhere he has contact.

“So soft,” he moans out, and his voice is pleasant and deep, sending a bolt of desire through your body. “Can’t wait to please you, pretty girl.”

You whine, hiding your face in his neck, and when you tentatively kiss the skin, he sighs, tilting his head to give you more room.

“Go ahead, baby,” the pet name makes your head spin. “Mark me. I’m all yours.”

So you do, sloppily making bruises that bloom on his tan skin. While you’re distracted, his fingers undo the ties to your nightclothes, and they slip from your body.

You gasp when his hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing the nipples as he squeezes and kneads the soft flesh.

“Shit, darlin’, so fuckin’ gorgeous.” His voice is huskier than you’ve ever heard it, drawl thick, and it makes your head spin. “Look at you. So sweet.”

You pull back and kiss him, hands tangling in his hair - he hadn’t gone to the barbers since Halloween, and it’s long enough for you to twirl and tug, which you do.

Mingyu groans into your mouth, and he kisses you with more fervor. You find that you like his reaction, and tug again.

“Minx,” he growls out breathlessly, tugging your clothes fully off your body. “Shit, look at your pretty pussy.”

His vulgarity stuns you once again, and you hide your face as one of his big hands reaches down to your wet need, thumb circling a sensitive bundle of need that has you whining and blindly gripping his forearm.

Mingyu grins, and then you feel his finger prodding at you - you gasp as it slides in. You’ve done this before, but his finger is so thick, and rough with calluses from years of hard work with his hands, it feels completely different and your body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ah, Gyu,” you whimper, and he groans, resting his forehead on yours. “Feels weird.”

His hand slows. “Good or bad?”

“Good,” you admit, hips shifting against his hand. His palm brushes the bundle of nerves as his finger sinks deeper, and you whine.

“I’ve got you, gorgeous,” Mingyu coos. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“Please.” You weakly fumble with the buttons to his union suit. “I wanna see you.”

Mingyu smiles and kisses you softly as he slides in a second finger, and the stretch stings a little, but the pleasure has your head going blank - fingers stilling against his chest as you slump into him.

“You’ll see me, __,” he promises, voice sweet and dripping with honeyed desire. “Gonna make you fall apart first.”

You nod, and the pleasure mounts, and you feel a coil tightening in your stomach. You tug on his hair wordlessly, whimpering and moaning against his mouth.

Mingyu groans, and he nips your lower lip.

“C’mon, dove,” he moves his fingers in a way that has your need clenching around him. “Cum for me.”

You nod feverishly, dragging him in for another kiss - messy and a clash of teeth - as your body curls in on itself. His fingers keep moving, and it quickly becomes too much, so you wordlessly push at his arm until he pulls his hand away.

You collapse back on his bed, chest heaving, and Mingyu’s eyes study you fondly.

“Too much?”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “Wanna see you. You promised.”

He licks your wetness glistening on his fingers, and the need sears through you again.

“I did. I’ve got you, darling,” Mingyu reassures, deftly undoing his union suit - your eyes flicker between the skin being exposed and the press of his need against the lower half of the suit, large and desperate.

“Is that… is that all for me?” You murmur, studying the flush on his face and collarbones before your eyes fall to his lower half, watch it spring free and slap his abs as he tugs the fabric off.

“God, yeah,” Mingyu growls, tugging himself and slicking himself with your wetness and his spit. “Cock’s been so hard because of you so much. Thought about fuckin’ you before, but thought you would never want to be so dirty with someone like me.”

“I couldn’t imagine a better man to be with like this,” you breathe out, watching how his cock twitches at your praise.

He chuckles. “You really do have a way with words, sweetheart.” His eyes fall to your need, which you can feel clenching around nothing, and he smirks. “Pretty pussy looks so empty. Want me to fill you up?”

You nod decisively. “Please fuck me Mingyu.”

He groans and kicks his union suit off fully while shuffling closer to you. He presses the head of his cock into you, smearing your arousal down him as he shallowly thrusts in and out.

“Shit, so tight,” he curses. “Breathe, baby, gotta get you past the tip.”

You whine, already so full, but nod deliriously, spreading your legs a little wider as you try to relax.

Mingyu kisses you, and your hands find purchase on his back, nails scraping down the muscles as they tense and shift from how he’s supporting his weight on his arms.

He looks beautiful, brow furrowed and lower lip in his teeth as he slowly sinks into you and works you open on his cock, pressing a little deeper with each slow thrust.

It takes a bit, but he finally bottoms out with a hiss, and you’re whimpering, toes already curling from the sensation of how full you are.

“Mmh, Gyu,” your whines are breathless. “So full.”

“You really love, fuck,” he grunts as you clench around him. “Giving me a big head, sweetheart.”

You whine as he slowly rolls his hips into yours, and you lose yourself in the smell of sex and arousal, the sounds of his skin wetly hitting yours and his grunts and moans mixing with yours, and the feeling of him grinding into you with each thrust.

“Just… being honest,” you pant, and he hums, kissing you distractedly.

You tug his hair and he moans, hips faltering in their rhythm as he speeds up a little.

“You’re so sexy, darlin.’” He praises, head dropping to suck marks on your neck and collarbones. His teeth scrape the skin of your breast and you keen as he teases your nipples. “Taking my cock like a good girl.”

“Am I your good girl?” You ask breathlessly.

“God, yeah, if you want,” Mingyu’s thumb presses against and rubs that bundle of nerves as he stills your hips to fuck into you deeper. “I’ve been yours for a while.”

You whine at the idea of him being yours, and nod eagerly. “Want you to be mine.” You clench around him at the idea. “Fuck, could even have you as my husband one day.”

Mingyu chuckles, but it’s strained. “Slow down, gorgeous. We have all the time and the world. For now, this pretty cunt is mine,” he tilts his head back, lip caught in his teeth. “And we’ll figure out how to be together in a social situation later. Right now, want you to cream my cock.”

His mouth is so filthy, and your cheeks are burning, but you clench around him at the words, whining as you feel that coil tighten again.

“Mingyu,” you warn breathlessly, and he nods.

“C’mon, darlin’. Come for me.”

You cry out and your nails dig into the muscles of his back, and your vision goes white.

You can hear him hiss, a string of curses, and feel so empty as he pulls out. You open your eyes when you hear slick sounds, and you see his hand working his cock, brow furrowed.

“Gyu,” you whine, and he nods with effort, hand slowing. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Shit, okay,” he gasps, chest heaving and slick with sweat. “Do you want to use your hand? Or mouth?”

“Mouth?” You ask, stunned, and he chuckles.

“For a different day then, shit, please, I need to cum,” his cock twitches in interest. “Put your hand on me, dove.”

You listen, and he hisses out a sigh of relief, heavy and warm and thick in your palm.

“Stroke me up and down, gorgeous,” Mingyu whispers. “Use your thumb, twist your hand some. You’ll, shit,” his voice breaks when you thumb a vein below his tip. “Know when I like something.”

You nod, studying his heaving chest, throbbing cock, and face - brows furrowed, eyes barely open and hazy, lips swollen and bitten. He looks incredible, and you still feed that need between your thighs, but you’re more focused on the way his hips cant into your hand.

You discover he likes it when you twist your hand around the tip and slide down with a little pressure, so you repeat the motion a few times, and watch as he groans loudly and his hips buck - he cums, strands of white coating your palm and his stomach.

“God, __,” Mingyu breathes out. “You’ll be the death of me, pretty girl. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.”

You hum, bringing your hand to your mouth. You curiously taste it, and Mingyu groans.

“Shit, don’t do that. It’ll make me want to fuck you again.”

You whine at the idea. You’ve never felt such pleasure, and you understand him not wanting to stop - you want more of him too, to feel so deliriously full, but your muscles are screaming and exhausted. You pout.

Mingyu laughs and kisses your forehead. “Let’s go take a bath. Clean up. We can do this again another time.”

You nod eagerly, and Mingyu grasps your hand to guide you to the bathroom.

He heats water quickly, and draws a bath for the two of you to share.

“No funny business,” he promises when he slides in with you. “But I’ll think about it.”

You giggle and nod, and his hands rub a washcloth over your skin delicately, cleaning you of the sweat from your activities.

Mingyu sighs when you clean him, washing his hair with a smile - you think it looks so cute at this length, and you tell him that. It has his eyes crinkling up and he grins at you.

“I can’t believe you let me have you like this, darlin.’” Mingyu’s fingers draw small circles on your side. “You’re too pretty for me.”

“I’m not,” you whine, poking one of the bruises you’ve left on him with a frown - it looks like it’ll be painfully sore. “You’re extremely handsome, Gyu. If anyone’s too pretty here, it’s you.”

He hums, kissing your temple.

The water is cold by now, and you shiver against him.

“C’mon, __,” his voice is sleepy now. “We gotta get out.”

You dry off quickly, and make your way to his room to grab your nightclothes and silk slip, tugging them on.

“Do I… do I go?” You ask softly, and Mingyu pouts.

“If you want. But I’d prefer to wake up to you and talk about what this means.” He’s buttoning up his union suit, and you nod.

“I want that.”

“Then stay.” Mingyu smiles. “I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out.”

You wake up in his arms.

He’s warm, arms wrapped around your waist, and his breaths are hitting your bare shoulder in soft puffs.

You smile, wiggling in his arms to turn and face him, and you brush your fingers through his messy hair - fluffy and wavy - and across his eyebrows.

Mingyu cracks an eye open, and closes it right after, smiling.

“Pinch me,” he says huskily, and you make a confused sound in the back of your throat. “I must be dreaming. I’m wakin’ up to my darling?”

You giggle. “Since when have I been your darling?”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t even falter at the teasing, and he leans his cheek into your palm. “Since you said so last night. But in my head? A while now. Can’t get enough of your presence, sweetheart.”

“You’ll have to tell me when you first felt sweet on me,”

“One day,” he agrees quietly. “Right now, I want to sleep and keep you in my arms.”

“You’re going to avoid your chores?”

He groans. “They’re not as nice as you.”

Despite his whines, he releases you and climbs out of bed, and you shiver a little at the loss of his warmth. You watch him make coffee and get dressed with a smile - he’s clumsier than you’ve ever realized, tripping a little over his feet as he tugs work pants on with a loose shirt.

There’s marks on his necks, and you smile shyly as he presses his fingers over them and studies how darkly they’ve bloomed on his flesh.

He sits down with a tiny mirror, shaving away the small bits of stubble on his jaw, and you think he looks ridiculously cute with the bits of shaving cream resting on his cheeks, and it’s very domestic watching him get ready for his day.

It’s then you realize, once he’s dressed and you’re far from it, that you didn’t quite think about this the night before.

“Gyu?”

“Darling?” He doesn’t look at you as he answers, studying the sky to try to place what time it is.

“How am I meant to get back into the house without people knowing I snuck out and stayed the night somewhere?”

Mingyu frowns. He understands your worries, not even put off by the fact you don’t want people to know you’ve gone to bed with him.

“I might have some clothes that you can wear.” His furrowed brow tells you he’s just as concerned about that not working. “Or I could go grab something from your room for you - if anyone sees, I’ll just tell ‘em you’re out in the field and I found you muddied and you’d asked me to get clothes for you.”

You hum, chewing on your lip. “Yeah, okay. But if you see my father… ask him for permission to court me.”

Mingyu chuckles, and he hands you a coffee with a kiss to the forehead. “That was the plan, darlin.’”

Mingyu leaves, and you sit with your coffee, eyes wandering around his housing. He’s added personal flairs - pictures of a girl and him smiling, you assume his sister, who looks just like him (you think you’ll have to ask about his family in more detail some day, you only knew that he had one), a spice rack and more pots and pans than you’ve ever used in your life, and a leather jacket slung over one of his dining chairs - cracked and worn just like his hat, which still hangs next to the door.

There’s cushions on the chairs too, and they’re a pretty blue quilted pattern, matching curtains he’s put up, and there’s a small rug - it feels a little rough, but it’s warm - by the side of the bed under your feet.

Mingyu returns when your coffee is gone and you’re debating crawling back under the sheets, his cheeks a vibrant red, and your clothes in his arms - you spot underclothes too, and smile at his consideration.

“What is it?” You ask, grabbing the fabrics from his.

“Your father, well,” Mingyu sighs and his face scrunches up slightly. “He spotted the marks. And he gives his blessing, but he told me that sex should wait until marriage and he sounded very disappointed in me.”

You giggle. “I should’ve warned you,”

Mingyu whines. “It was humiliating,” he grabs his hat and sets it next to you on his bed. “But I’ll court you properly. Nice dates for m’lady.”

You raise a brow.

“My pretty girl,” he corrects, and you smile. “Wear my hat today. I didn’t grab you one and it’s bright out. Don’t want you to burn, you might be a little uncomfortable anyways.”

Your brow furrows, and Mingyu laughs.

“Sore. Because it’s new. Like the first time you ride a horse.”

You hum, grabbing his hat. “Thank you, Gyu.”

He smiles, and you watch him situate his belt and tools. “I’ll see you around supper.”

You pout at that, but nod - you had plenty of chores to get to as the season came to a close: canning produce, preserving meats, packing orders and sending hands into town to deliver them and collect your own orders, cleaning the house and checking for issues that would make the winter colder (and getting someone to fix them as the first frost quickly approached).

You dress slowly, wincing at the ache in your muscles - Mingyu had been right about the soreness, and you’re grateful most of your chores are administrative and require you to sit in the office.

When you make it back to the house, your father is waiting in the lounge.

“__.” You stop in your tracks and look at him. “I know scolding you will do nothing, but please be careful. You have my blessing, I’m sure he told you,”

You nod. “We are. Were. He’s going to court me normally now.”

Your father raises a disbelieving brow but raises his hand and waves you off. “Go do your work. We can talk about it later.”

Your face burns. “I promise you’ll like him more. I really like him.”

“I know, dear,” he laughs. “It’s been obvious the two of you were sweet on one another since Halloween.”

You frown. “I just realized, though?”

“He’s liked you for a bit, dear,” your father folds his newspaper shut and clasps his hands together. “And you’ve been acting differently around him since Halloween, even if you just noticed.”

“How long?” You ask, biting your lip, and your father laughs.

“That’s for him to say.”

You pout at him but nod, and it’s difficult to focus on writing orders and invoices and damages and properly begin storing food, because your curiosity eats you alive.

You settle into a routine with the fruits, too deep in your work to notice the time.

It’s when the sun is below the horizon that you’re stirred from your tasks - by Mingyu, sticking his head into the office and knocking on the open door.

“Darlin’, it’s time to eat.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, setting down the last can you have, filled properly and sealed. “Thank you.”

Mingyu grabs your hand, and his is warm and rough against yours. “I wouldn’t let you go hungry.”

Your first proper date with Mingyu is to a cinema - it’s new to the town, though not to the bigger cities nearby.

You’ve never seen moving pictures, and you spend nearly the whole time eagerly pointing out the details. He indulges you, smiling and adding onto your comments, and his fingers stay laced with your own.

He takes you to the grocers after, and he buys you a jar of strawberry jam and some biscuits - you’d mentioned being hungry and that the strawberry harvest, which he hadn’t worked, had been poor.

“You really don’t have to, Gyu,” you pouted as he bought you a new notebook too, with a nice leather casing and stronger binding. “My current one’s fine.”

“I want to buy it, darlin,’” he promises, silencing your complaints with a short kiss.

It left you reeling, still unused to his intimacy and everything that comes with being courted - and everything that comes before it, in your case.

You’d nodded slowly, and he’d chuckled. “C’mon, m’lady,” he’d said, purposefully, to make you narrow your eyes at him and grab the ledger and food.

“We should eat by the lake.” You suggested, and his eyes brightened.

“I’ve never been. I’m not from ‘round here, remember?”

You hum. He’s fit in so naturally that he feels like he’s been part of your life for years.

“It’s gorgeous. There’s these gorgeous weeping willows, large and shady, and cattails, and these fields of flowers, and the sun always sets on it - it looks like jewels dancin’ on the surface.”

Mingyu smiles. “You make it sound like a fairytale.”

“It feels like it!” You beam, and he chuckles, unhitching Taima and mounting her.

He waits for you to sit and situate your new gifts before guiding her into a jog. “It's around half a mile west of home, right?”

Home. Your heart aches with fondness.

“Yeah. Can’t miss it.”

Mingyu nods, and his arms are on either of your sides as he steers Taima with a gentle hand. His body is warm and firm behind you, and you lean back with a smile.

It takes maybe fifteen minutes for her to get there at a lope, and Mingyu guides her to a nice grazing spot near water.

“It really is beautiful.” He breathes out, but his eyes are on you as he says it.

You scrunch your nose up at his flirty smile, and he only chuckles breathlessly.

“Thank you for showing it to me, baby. I feel special - being shown something you obviously love.”

You settle against one of the willows and beckon him over, and he hums happily as you lean into him and carefully tear the biscuits open.

The jam is easy to spread - you use his pocket knife, and he makes a face, knowing how hard it’ll be to clean, but doesn’t complain.

You feed him some with a grin, and he smiles at you, playfully pushing your hand away as you try to give him more.

“I bought it for you, sweetheart. I had a good breakfast.”

You frown but nod, and you open the notebook as you eat, absently trailing your fingers over the pages - they’re crisp and thick, creamy paper, and you wonder how much it was: he’d hid the cost from you when he was checking out, and you think you know why now.

You search through his bag for a pencil, and you find one - more a stub than anything, but it’ll work.

Mingyu’s looking out at the water and Taima, and you subtly sketch him onto the front page: you wanted to be able to see him every time you had to use it.

It doesn’t fully capture his beauty, nor the warmth in his eyes, but you have the curve of his nose, and his lips, the set of his brow and the length of his lashes, the way his hair rests on his forehead and the messiness of it from the wind running through it as you rode here.

You flip the page, and that draws his attention.

You smile and peck his nose, which has him blinking rapidly at you. “You missed.”

“I didn’t,” you don’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting his lips, showing you exactly what you missed with your kiss.

You draw the water and Taima next, the flick of her tail and the sunspots the willow has dancing across her coat.

“You’re real good at that,” Mingyu praises softly, voice barely above a whisper, studying each careful press of the pencil into the paper.

You feel your cheeks burn. “I try.”

“You succeed.” He tugs you closer into his side and plucks the pencil from your hands, sliding it back into his bag. He shuts the notebook next, and steals the last bite of your biscuit with a wink.

You huff, but any protest dies on your tongue as he snuggles you into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck so he can rest his cheek on the crown of your head.

“I didn’t expect you to be so clingy, mister,” you tease, and he huffs, poking your side in a sulky retaliation.

“You like it.” He sighs and thinks for a second. “Do you like it?”

“As long as you don’t smell like horse shit, you can cuddle me all you’d like.”

“We live on a ranch with horses.”

“All I’m saying is I don’t want to smell it when I’m not working with them. Bathe.” You poke his side back, and he huffs.

“You act like I’m not clean.”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth. What else is dirty?”

“My mind,” he grumbles, and you feel your face burn. “But that’s it.”

You’re rendered a little speechless by that, and you can feel his laughter rumbling in his chest.

“So cute, darlin,’” Mingyu whispers. “Just wanna eat you. Cutest and sweetest thing I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not on the menu.” You hand him a biscuit. “You can have another one of these, though.”

It feels natural, being with him.

It’s effortless, the intimacy and care that blooms between the two of you - especially as the frost prevents there from being more crops. Mingyu’s chores become less strenuous, only helping with animal care, keeping them as warm as possible and ensuring none get sick, and with repairs around the ranch.

You spend time working on knitting, like you do every winter. You weren’t nearly good enough to sell them, but you make blankets - for the hands, after their old ones become threadbare - and for the animals, especially the horses: not one to ride on, but to keep them warm and allow them to wander the snow without it settling on their coat.

You’re making a blanket now, sitting on the footstool at the edge of your bed, and Mingyu is sitting by your side, his head resting on your knee as you work. His face twitches whenever the knit brushes his cheek, ticklish, but he doesn’t react much otherwise.

It’s been two months since he’d first started courting you, and since you’d let him bed you.

You haven’t done it again - even though you’ve felt that pulsing need again, and your hands brought nowhere near the pleasure his did when you attempted to relieve it: you’d wondered if he’d put some kind of spell on you, because the thought of him, so bare and strong against you, made your weak in the knees.

You shift as your thoughts wander, squirming for some relief as you think of how badly you miss his touch on yours: he’s become softer and sweeter with you than before, if that was possible, stolen pecks and hand-holding to tide you over.

It wasn’t enough. You wanted to see his strength in action - the way his muscles flexed with his exertion,

Your eyes trail over his profile, focusing on the soft curve of his lips, how they’re parted and a little chapped from the dry air.

“Why’re you starin’, darlin?’” Mingyu’s voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you sigh, undoing a few rows of knitting when you realize how sloppy it became when your mind wandered.

You set your knit project back in its basket and sink to the floor next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and straddling him.

Mingyu makes a confused sound, but his arms snake around your frame anyways and hold you firm to him.

“I’m not starin,’” you tell him, but your words are breathless, and you shift your hips for that relief again when he licks his lips.

His jaw tenses for a second. “Dove, use your words. I can tell you want somethin’ from me.”

“I don’t,” you say stubbornly, and he shifts his hands to your hips and holds you still.

“Then stop movin’ like you want me to fuck you,” Mingyu growls, and you whimper at his words - grateful that your door was closed, that everyone was out working the ranch or in town today, and that he seemed aware of your needs.

“What if I do?” You challenge, nails digging into his shoulders through the cotton of his shirt when he presses kisses to your jaw.

Mingyu smiles. “You tell me exactly what you want, darlin,’”

“You said,” you pause, sighing as he scrapes his teeth over your collarbones. “That you can use your mouth to make someone feel good?” Your hips shift again, but you get no friction as his strong hands hold you firmly in one place. “How?”

He groans, hands searching blindly for the tie to your dress.

“You use your mouth on their pretty pussy or on their cock, dove,” Mingyu’s voice is back to the deeper, huskier, slower tenor and it sends a bolt of need through you as you process his words. “And you make them cum on your tongue.”

“You have such a dirty mouth, mister,” you gasp out as your dress slides and bunches around your hips.

Mingyu’s kisses lower as best as they can, blowing cool air over your skin, before trailing back up to your neck and ears. He nips an earlobe, gently tugging it in his teeth.

“My name is Mingyu, sweetheart,” he reminds, voice filled with desire. “Use it.”

You whine.

“Mingyu,” you pant out, hips trying desperately to circle over his. “Can you teach me how to use my mouth to make you feel good?”

His brow furrows and he utters a guttural “fuck” at your words before nodding. “I can do that, sweetheart. C’mon, up.”

You stand, and he moves to sit on your bed, undoing his clothing quickly - his belt ends up on your bedframe with his shirt, and his pants on the ground.

He fumbles with his union suit a bit, but manages to get it down and kicked away - his cock springs up to hit his stomach, large, and red at the tip, and your eyes widen.

It’d been a bit, and you’d never fully realized his size. The idea of it being in you again had you stifling a whimper.

“C’mere,” he coos, and you oblige, kissing him tenderly as his hand strokes your hair. He slowly guides you to be on your knees between his legs, and you place two hands on his thighs to brace yourself.

“Remember how I said that you need to experiment with what your partner likes, darlin?’” He prompts, voice a little shaky as your breaths ghost over his need.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

“Lick and kiss at it, and when you’re comfortable, wrap your pretty lips around me,” Mingyu sounds like he’s begging, almost, voice broken with need. “Use your tongue when you do. I’ll let you do it at your pace, don’t wanna push you too far. You’re not ready for any roughness.”

You take that as a challenge, leaning forward. He smells musky and manly and hot, and it makes your head spin as you lick up his shaft curiously and slowly. He hisses, a hand fisting in your hair loosely.

You press a kiss to the red tip, and it tastes salty, and his cock twitches at the sensation.

You hum and slowly take him into your mouth. It’s an odd sensation, a little uncomfortable with the stretch to your jaw, but Mingyu’s hissing as you hum again and his grip on your hair tightens.

“Oh, fuck, darlin,’” he murmurs, dragging out the swear in a rumbling groan. “So damn good at this. I must be the luckiest man - got a pretty girl on her knees and beggin’ to please me,” his brows furrow and you glance up to meet his eyes as you slowly bob your head.

You haven’t taken much of him into your mouth, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Tell me if, shit, baby, if my grip’s too tight or you wanna stop.” He sounds like he’s desperate for everything you’re giving him, and you think it’s a real pleasant sound.

You bob your head on him in understanding, and you move one hand from his thighs to curiously stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth.

It has him keening, and his hips buck slightly. Your eyes sting with tears, but you breathe in through your nose deeply and keep licking and sucking.

Mingyu’s breathless and whiny, and it’s nothing like how he sounded when he first fucked you - but it’s just as sexy.

“God, baby, you’re a damn natural. Takin’ my cock so well.” He praises, and you whine around him.

That has him gasping and shuddering, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue, see his abs tensing and his shuddering breaths.

“I’m already close, sweetheart. Do you wanna… do you wanna swallow?”

You remember the curious salty taste from the first time, and how him saying you tasting it made him want you more. You bob your head eagerly.

“God, that’s my girl,” he brushes your hair gently and pulls you slightly so your lips are wrapped around just his tip. “Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

Mingyu thrusts shallowly a few times, and he cums on your tongue. It’s new and unusual, but you don’t mind, not when he groans at the sight as he pulls out before you close your mouth and swallow.

He wipes the drool and cum from your chin with a gentle thumb, and tugs you up to sit on his lap.

He’s hardening again under you as you grind slow circles, desperate to get off after watching him in his ecstasy.

“Do you want to feel how nice it is to have someone’s mouth on you, darlin?’”

You gasp and nod, and Mingyu smiles. “Get comfy.”

There’s a promise to his eyes, and you quickly shift onto your bed fully, and Mingyu hums, repositioning you slightly.

He lays between your legs, smirking up at you as he drapes them over his shoulders.

The anticipation is killing you, and you think Mingyu knows that from how his smile widens.

“Gyu, please,” you whine, and he shushes you.

“I’ve got you, darlin,’” he promises. “Shit, look at your pretty pussy. So wet and needy for me.”

His words have your skin burning with heat, and he attaches his lips to that bundle of need and sucks, hard. Your legs shake and your mouth falls open in a quiet moan, but you keep your eyes on him because you want nothing more than to see your man lose himself in pleasuring you, his eyes dark and sparkly and his hair messily falling over his brows - he’s starting cutting it to the length you said you liked.

“This is your clit,” he tells you with a breathless chuckle. “Real sensitive. But it’s not the only way I can make you feel good.”

You whimper and shift your hips eagerly as Mingyu’s breath fans over your core, hot and heavy.

With a hum, he licks a stripe up you and you quiver in his hold, pleasure searing through your veins.

Mingyu groans into you, and he pulls back for a second to tell you “you’re so fucking sweet, darlin’. Best dessert I ever damn tasted,” before his lips and tongue are on you again.

He keeps flicking his tongue over your clit, and your muscles tense and shake each time.

Mingyu slides one big hand up from your thighs to your stomach, and laces his fingers with yours.

You smile, and have half a mind to tease him for being so sweet on you, but his other hand slips a finger in you and you feel your head go empty at the pleasure.

Mingyu chuckles, and then he’s sucking on your clit and sliding in a second finger. You feel light-headed, and your ears are ringing from the sensation - but you can still hear a wetness as his fingers press into you, and it has your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

He seems thrilled with your response, muffled groans vibrating into your need, and you can’t think of anything except Mingyu.

“C’mon, darlin’, cum on my tongue, I wanna taste you,” his voice is a husky command, and you nod feverishly. You need just a little more, and he seems to know, curling his fingers with each thrust into you.

It has you crying out, falling apart as he works you through it. It’s sensitive, and he keeps licking the whole time - like a man starved and you’re nectar.

“God, pretty girl,” he hisses, moving from between your thighs to lay next to you, and his cock is hard and needy again. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You whine, eyeing his need. “Feel so empty, Gyu,” you whimper, and his eyes shut for a moment, and he looks pained.

“Sweetheart, I don’t wanna overdo it. You’re new to this.”

You huff. “And I know damn well what I want, mister.”

Mingyu’s eyes narrow. “You’ve got such a mouth on you, dove.” He hisses, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck. “You wanna be fucked? Proper?”

“Please,” you keen. “Don’t care if it’s rough or too much. Wanna be full of you,”

His eyes shut again, lip caught between his teeth. “Where’d you learn to talk like this?”

You flush. “Might’ve talked to my girl friends about how they get their husband in the mood.”

Mingyu chuckles breathlessly. “Shit, it don’t take much for me. You’re so sweet and pretty, just lookin’ at you sweaty or shy is enough to get me half there.”

You smile, and Mingyu’s bracing himself on his forearms over you, running his tip over your need to get himself wetter.

“Tell me what you want.” Mingyu sing-songs. “Beg.”

You whine. “Gyu, please, need you to fuck me. Bed me like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he growls out, slowly pressing into you. “Not by law, not yet, but you’re mine.”

You nod, already delirious from the stretch as he sucks more marks into your skin - possessive and desperate for there to be a reminder you’re his - and his hot breath fans your sweat-slick skin.

His hips start a slow roll, grinding into you each time he bottoms out, and you’re keening, nails digging into his slick skin. You crane your neck to suck a mark of your own on his skin - salty and manly under your tongue.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Want me to be yours, too?”

You nod, but you can’t make some smart quip about how he was sweet on you first as his thumb rolls your clit, agonizingly slowly, and he thrusts more harshly into you.

Mingyu’s breath is heavy and hot against your skin as he speeds up some, and you wrap your legs around his hips, locking your feet together.

That shift has him hitting deeper and brushing someplace in your need that has you whimpering and clenching around him.

“There it is,” he hums. “Need to aim right…” he thrusts in again, and he catches it again, and you wail. “There.”

“Gyu, Gyu, Gyu,” you’re chanting his name like a mantra - and you think you understand how people might become so devoted to a man, if that man is anything like Mingyu. “Fuck,”

“That’s it, dove,” he coos. “Tell me how good I’m fucking you.”

You nod, head lolling back at the pleasure as he somehow speeds up more.

“‘S so good,” your voice is thick and your eyes are watery with unshed tears. “Feel so full, think ‘m gonna cum,”

“God, do it,” he begs. “Want you to cum on my cock like a good girl.”

You nod, head rushing as you cry out.

“That’s my girl,” you can faintly hear him say, and he’s pulling out. You feel empty, and then there’s a loud groan - you manage to lift your head to watch his heaving chest and the way his head tilts back as he finishes onto your stomach, hand working himself through the last few aftershocks.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “Was that rough?”

“Rough enough,” he nudges his nose against yours and kisses you sweetly, on your cheeks, your foreheads, your nose, and then your lips - slow and lazy and loving.

“I want to try rougher.” You admit shyly, and he hisses.

“Darlin’, I think if I go again I’ll die,”

You laugh at his dramatics. “Some other day, then?”

“Shit, you’re insatiable,” he groans playfully, pinching your cheek. “I’ve created a monster.”

You hum, but you can’t help but imagine what he means by rough fucking.

You want to find out.

“C’mon, dove, let’s get you cleaned up and work on that knitting project ‘till supper. Bet you’re hungry now.”

By Christmastime, you’ve gone to bed with Gyu one or two more times - though never rough, and you secretly wish to find a way to rile him up and convince him to have his way with you some day.

But it’s the holidays, and both of you are exhausted - he’d had to decorate for Christmas, chop down trees (one to decorate, the rest for firewood: for the ranch to have, and to sell and deliver), and schedule visits from the farrier for most of the horses.

The most you get to do with him is slow kisses before you part for the night, or hugs throughout the day. You enjoyed every bit of contact with him, though, and your heart flutters at the sight of him now - his hair is the length you like to play with, and it’s fluffy, he’s put in less effort grooming it recently, since his hat or the wind musses it anyways, and he wears sweaters that are large on him, covering his hands to keep them warm.

You were busy baking pies and making a roast, preparing a great meal. Everything that could be done in advance had been, stored in the iceboxes - your father had bought a second a few weeks prior - for today.

The fire crackles in the hearth while you diligently place a lattice crust on the pie - you’d even measured the strips to be the same size.

Arms wrap around your waist, strong and warm, and you smile. Even his scent is familiar now, and you toy with his cream sleeves.

“Hi, baby,” Mingyu hums, and you smile, craning your neck to press a kiss to his nose before you turn back to your pie.

“Hi, Gyu,” you smile at him. “Did you sneak off?”

He makes an offended sound. “I’m a good worker, I would never. I was told I could take a break from chopping wood and I wanted to see you.”

You laugh. “I know, Gyu.” You place the pie in the oven and turn around in his arms, nuzzling closer to his sweater: soft against your cheek, and you can feel his warmth through it. He smells of pine from all the wood he’s cut, alongside his natural scent, and you melt into him.

“You look tired, darlin,’” he sighs, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “You should take a break.”

“You’re one to talk,” you tease playfully, toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. “You’re an overachiever, sweetheart.”

Mingyu flushes a dark red. It takes you a second to realize why.

“Sweetheart,” you coo, and he whines, hiding his face in your neck. “You’re so cute.”

“‘M not used to you calling me anything but Gyu or Mingyu, or mister, when you wanna tease me,” he pouts, and you laugh softly.

“Now you know how I feel.” You grumble, and Mingyu laughs, kissing your neck sweetly.

“But you’re my darlin,’” he protests. “Always have been - I’ve called you that since we met.”

He’s right, but you don’t care too much.

“Merry Christmas, Gyu,” you tell him, tilting his head up and kissing him.

“We’re not even under mistletoe, dove,” Mingyu chuckles. “Merry Christmas.”

“I can kiss you without mistletoe, whenever I want. You’re my man,” you remind him, and his flush returns in full force.

“Stop trying to make me shy,” he huffs, glancing over at your papers spread on the counter - recipes of everything you needed to cook today. “Do you want some help?”

You know better than to refuse him. “Thank you, Gyu, I’d love that.”

He smiles happily at you, and sets to cooking the apples to make a cinnamon applesauce, pouting when it won’t peel exactly how he likes.

You focus on the roast, though he does lean over and move it for you when you struggle to pick it up.

There’s music playing from the lounge - your father had set up his gramophone for people to enjoy as they finish their chores and come in for supper - and Mingyu sings along quietly.

He truly does have such a beautiful voice, deep and husky and honey sweet.

It fills the silence comfortably, and you admire the muscles in his arms as he works the applesauce to be smooth.

Your roast is cooking, so you’re more than content to watch him and check your pie. You’re sure he can feel your eyes on him, because he’s smiling shyly as he mixes it for the last time and pours it into the dish you had sitting on the counter.

“You have a staring problem,” Mingyu informs you, rolling his sleeves up as he picks up a knife - he checks your roast and hums before nodding, pleased with your efforts. The knife is placed carefully on the counter, by the wall so it wouldn’t stick out.

“How so?” You have a smile dancing across your lips.

“You just look at me constantly. I understand me lookin’ at you, darlin’, you’re an angel, but why do you stare at me when just I’m stirring applesauce?”

“You look cute,” you smile. “Domestic. Like you’re my husband.”

“Not yet,” Mingyu laughs. “We’ve only been courting each other for a bit - even if I was sweet on you for a while before. Besides, what’s so cute about it?”

“You furrow your brow and pout your lips,” you tell him. “I just think you’re handsome.”

He doesn’t deny your compliment, though he does scrunch up his nose at it.

“Ah, hell, you just live to fluster me. You’re a devil.”

“At least you’ve stopped calling me a lady.”

Mingyu hums and tugs you into his arms, and you settle with a happy smile against him.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, and his voice has taken a playful turn. “I think you’re sweeter than any pie you’ve baked.”

“Don’t insult my cooking,” you pout, but your cheeks are burning and you can’t help your smile.

“I wasn’t,” Mingyu hums, nosing closer to you so his lips brush your hair. “Just saying I prefer when you’re on the menu.”

You hit his arm, scandalized, and he laughs, full and loud.

“I’m being honest,” he pushes, and you shut your eyes before sighing. His hands are caressing your hips, squeezing curiously, and you shake your head.

“Everyone’s gonna come in, Gyu. Not now.”

He sulks. “Later?”

“Maybe.” You don’t promise him anything. “It’s almost time for supper and gifts. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Mingyu sighs. “If my lady asks that of me, I will.”

You chew on your lip. “I’m not a lady, but I’m your woman, and if you want any kisses, you’ll behave.”

He sighs again when you don’t fall for his trap, but nods, and his hands slide up your spine and rest more innocently on your waist.

“As you wish, darlin,’”

On New Years, you don’t spend much time socializing - you didn’t quite feel like being around a bunch of drunk ranch hands, and had simply wished them a happy new year and good health before excusing yourself.

Mingyu finds you sitting on the steps to the porch, fingers messing with a beer bottle that you haven’t even taken a sip from.

“Hi, darlin,’” he smiles, and you can’t help but return it. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all alone?”

His cheeks are red and his words are a little slurred, and you giggle.

“Are you drunk, mister?”

He pouts at you. “That’s not my name.”

He doesn’t answer your question, but a glance at his half-empty beer and dilated eyes tells you enough.

“Mingyu, baby,” you coo, and he nods eagerly, head tilting. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe.” He frowns. “Are you gonna ignore me if I am? I know you don’t like drunk men, but I’m… I’m not.” His brows furrows. “Not like other men drunk. I don’t fight, I think I’d cry if I had to fight someone.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “No, you’re my man. It’s my job to take care of you when you’re drunk. The other men have their women or one another.”

“Yours,” he repeats, warm and soft. “Does that mean you’ll help me with my issues?”

“What issues?” You raise a brow.

“Needy ones,” Mingyu grumbles, and you hum.

“Maybe. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, Gyu.”

He pouts. “I’m not that drunk. I can still walk in a straight line.”

“And you can also hold your liquor well,”

Mingyu giggles. “You remember me sayin’ that?”

You laugh breathlessly. “I’m gonna get you some water, Gyu.”

He frowns at you, brows furrowed with a cute line between them as he focuses on your words. You smooth it with a thumb and he leans back against the pole he’s sitting next to.

You come back with a glass of water, and he’s still sulking, arms crossed and lips pouted.

He drinks it quickly, and his eyes focus again after a bit.

“I really am not that drunk,” he tells you. “Just a little dumber than normal.”

You laugh. “That so?”

“Mhm, I could even tell you the first time I realized I was sweet on you - when I’m drunk, I can barely think, so that’d be impossible.”

“Tell me,” you urge, knocking your knee against his as you shift him to slide into his lap.

“Only if you promise to help me.” Mingyu whines, hips rolling up against yours once to prove his need.

“I promise. It’s been a bit, I miss you too,” you tell him, and he nods.

“It was in the peach orchard. You look real pretty and sweet in that dress, like a true dove,” he smiles shyly. “That’s where that nicknames come from. And you were real kind to me, indulgin’ me in dumb conversation, cleaning the dirt from my arm, and you were so playful and funny - and I’d be damned if I didn’t think you were the most interesting girl I’ve ever met, unafraid to get dirty. And then you said cowboys were interesting, and, well, shit, I could only hope my charms worked on you.”

“I’d say they did,” you tell him, and he nods.

“I’m glad. I was charmed just by you. No fancy title necessary.”

“I’m charmed by you too, Mingyu,” you promise. “Thought you were handsome that first day - had to stop myself starin’ when you walked around with your union suit unbuttoned. But I was sweet on you startin’ round Halloween, I think.”

Your cheeks burn.

“I came to visit you that night we first slept together because I’d been needy and kept thinking about you when I used my fingers, and it wasn’t good enough.”

“Shit,” he curses huskily. “Really?”

You nod.

“You’ll have to let me watch how you touch yourself sometimes,” he begs softly, and you hum.

Mingyu surges forward to kiss you, and you allow it, sucking on his tongue when he parts your lips with it - he tastes of whiskey and your apple pie, and you melt into him.

He’s burning hot under you, hands gripping desperately at your hips and trying to hike your dress up.

“Gyu, we gotta, we gotta,” you stumble over your words like you’re the one whose been drinking. “Gotta move somewhere else. We’re on the porch.”

He nods and helps you stand without parting his lips from yours, and the two of you stumble as he walks you to the side of the house, the side facing his housing, and presses you against the wood paneling.

Mingyu’s lips fall to your neck, sucking splotchy bruises. “Can I taste?” He begs softly, and it takes the slightest nod you can manage for him to drop to his knees and hold your dress up to your hip.

He groans in frustration when your underclothes inhibit his actions, and you hear the fabric rip. You have half a mind to curse at him, but his teeth nip the sensitive skin of your thigh before his tongue soothes it, and he presses into you.

You can’t see much of him, but your hands tangle in his hair and urge him on as he whimpers - whimpers - into you at your taste.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you whine, gripping his hair tighter for stability as he forces one of your legs to rest on his shoulders. “So good.”

Mingyu pulls back for a second. “Count for me.”

You do, in your head, and he dives back in with more fervor, and you feel your leg tremble - and you’re grateful for how he’s pressed you so firmly into the wall and his bruising grip on your hip, because you fear you’ll collapse to the ground.

He groans at the taste of you, and he sucks on your clit as he slides two fingers in and you wail before dragging a hand away from his hair to bite on the fabric of your dress to muffle your sounds, mindful of the fact there’s a party going on just inside.

It doesn’t take much longer to push you over the edge, and Mingyu pulls back, breathing heavily and straining against his pressed slacks.

“How long?”

“Forty… forty seven,” you gasp out, and he smirks, smug.

“Under a minute. I bet I can do under thirty seconds next time.”

You whine at the idea, and you feel so empty, you paw at the buttons to his shirt.

“Fuck me, Mingyu.” You demand, and he laughs.

“Weren’t you worried about being seen?”

You huff and let your dress fall, and grab his hand - he leads you into his house, and as soon as the door clicks shut, you’re pinned against it as he pushes your collar to work a hand in to knead your breasts.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous, dove,” he groans, leaning his forehead on yours. “I’m never gonna get enough of you or your pretty pussy.”

“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to scream,” you inform him, and he laughs.

“I like how confident you’re getting, baby. Tell me more.”

Your cheeks burn with shame, but you rise to his challenge. “Take off everything and lay on the bed.”

He obeys, practically hopping to get the last bit of his clothing off, and you giggle - he smiles at the sound and his lack of grace, but your laughter dissolves at the sight of his cock, curved, red, angry, with pre-cum beading on the tip as he leans back on his elbows and studies you.

You undress your many layers, and toss your ruined and ripped underclothes into his trashcan. You grab his cowboy hat with a playful smile and put it on your head.

His eyes are dark as he takes in your frame, and you brace your knees on either side of his hips, sliding your pussy over his cock slowly, wetting him.

“Gonna ride me, darlin?’” He asks, hands reverent where they settle on your hips.

You nod determinedly, sinking down on him slowly. “I’m saving a horse from a day of hard work.”

He laughs, but it turns into a choked moan as you take him to the hilt in one go, and it makes you whine.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ big,” you whimper, nails curling into his pecs as you stabilize yourself and bounce on his cock, skin slapping his thighs.

Mingyu whines at the praise, fingers tightening on your hips to help you maintain your balance. He lets you lead, lip caught between his teeth as he watches your breasts bounce from your efforts.

You bend lower, and your chest brushes his as you kiss him, swallowing his deep groans as your walls flutter around him.

He’s hitting deep, and you grind down each time he bottoms out, the new angle letting his pelvis rub your clit deliciously. It has your vision going white from the sensation.

“So fuckin’ tight, dove, shit,” he hisses. “Feels like you’re trying to milk me for all I’m worth,”

“You’re not a cow,” you laugh breathlessly, and he makes a face at your joke. “But, shit, yeah, wanna see you cum.”

He hisses under his breath. “‘S not safe, darlin’, as much as I’d love to fill you.”

You pout at him, clenching at the idea of being full of him - he feels it and curses breathlessly, and you’re so close.

“Gyu.” You whine. “Fuck me. Please. Hard. Need more.”

Mingyu’s jaw sets with determination as he plants his feet to get leverage and thrusts up into you. It’s swift and reckless, hitting deep and hard - you whimper and collapse against him, and he hisses as you clench tighter.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he promises, bullying his cock as deep as he can manage on each thrust. “Want you to walk funny and think of me for days.”

“I already, fuck, think of you anyways, Gyu,” you tell him, and when his thumb rubs your clit and he sucks marks into your neck, you fall apart.

He only speeds up, hissing and tense under you.

“‘S too much,” you whine, walls still fluttering with each brush of him against your g-spot.

“You can take it, darlin,’” he reassures. “Be a good girl.”

You nod weakly, and you’re quivering as he continues to fuck you, and it doesn’t take long for you to cum again with a weak cry of his name.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, pulling out with a whine. He’s twitching in his palm and cums quickly, and you watch it roll down his hand and onto his stomach.

“You should… you should fuck me rough more often, Gyu,”

“Don’t give me any ideas you can’t keep up with, darlin,’”

You wake up to him most days from then on - though you don’t always go to bed with him sexually.

Most nights are soft, with him helping you wash up - or you him, when his muscles are too aching and sore to reach up and scrub his scalp - and eating supper apart from everyone, curling into his side under the sheets as he tells you about his days and his adventures with the animals, or people he’d met in town.

It’s after the last frost, when you’re tilling the field for spring crops and planting your seeds, that you realize you love him.

Mingyu is shirtless - and you’re shamelessly admiring the ripple of his muscles under tanned and sweaty skin, and his heavy breathing as he sets down his tools and drinks from the water flask on his hip - a few drops roll down his chin and neck, and you whistle at him.

“You look handsome, sweetheart!” You tell him, and he flushes a dark red - embarrassed and pleased by the compliment and pet name.

“Are you going to help me, hm?” He asks when he walks over to where you are, sitting under a crab apple tree and sketching the fields (and, by extension, him working them).

“What do I pay you for?”

“You don’t pay me,” he reminds you, rolling his eyes. “And you know you like helping in the fields.”

“I do,” you grab his hat from where it hangs on the horn of Taima’s saddle and place it on your head, beaming at him.

“Beautiful as always, my darlin,’”

It’s the first time he’s used my next to the pet name, and your heart flutters.

He pecks you shortly, and you smile into it.

“I love you,” you tell him, and his hands rest on your waist. He stands there dumbly for a second, blinking at you.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mingyu murmurs. “I have the prettiest girl in the world in love with me?”

You frown at him.

“I love you too, my dove,” he promises, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m just shocked you picked me out of all the men.”

“I love me a good cowboy,” you tell him, giggling. “And I’d never pick another man over you.”

“And I appreciate it, truly,” he tells you with a grin. “But you’re not getting out of helping me plant the fields.”

“Well, damn,” you sigh. “I rescind it.”

“You don’t,” Mingyu hums, and you nod, hand slipping into his as you walk to the section he was working on.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#cries. sobs. slides down the wall.#where is My hot cowboy who calls sweet names and flirts with me.#no but fr this is so good rose i am in Awe of how talented you are.#recs #—misc

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hwangcore · 2 years ago

Text

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem!bodied reader

content: smut, fluff, (slight?) angst, f2l, unprotected sex (please be safe please this is fiction), oral (f & m receiving) degradation, praise, dance isn’t super prominent oops, teasing, alcohol consumption, semi-public, sappy hyuck, possessive hyuck, 9k words, i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any!

summary: donghyuck has really, really, really fucked up this time. when you asked him if he wanted to hook up and take the edge off of preparing for the upcoming recital, he jumped at the offer. but he’s slowly falling in love with you, you’re in his dance department so if it ends ugly, you’re unavoidable—and he may or may not be getting possessive when he sees other men flirting with you.

a/n: this is like 2 months after the masterpost and the first in the series :’) school has been busy but i hope you enjoy! thank you to @hwangcore for proofreading <3 love u

DONGHYUCK HAD A TENDENCY TO CATCH FEELINGS. EASILY.

He knew this, which is why he surprised himself when he agreed to your proposition of being friends with benefits one night when you two stayed late in the dance studio, working on your solo routines for the dance department’s huge annual performance.

It was a looming pressure, an incredibly heavy weight on his shoulders, and unbelievably stressful when you’re one of the main acts.

Maybe it was how you said it. Or maybe it’s because it was you. He was a sucker for pretty people, and you were breathtaking.

“Hey, Hyuck,” you’d said, and he’d hummed from where he was laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. He’d just run through his whole routine for the third or fourth time that day, and his thighs were screaming in agony. “How you feelin’?”

“Tired,” he grumbled, rolling onto his side to look at you. “You?”

“Stressed. Like I need to take the edge off.” You whine, flopping next to him, and he sighs.

“God, tell me about it. I’m going to get so wasted this weekend,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples. “Like a hangover that lasts for two days. That kind of hammered.”

“I wish I could but I have exams coming up. I was thinking of another way to let off steam,” you’d admitted shyly, and he narrowed his eyes, looking up at you curiously. You weren’t one to get shy easily, always the center of attention and the best (ballet) dancer the department had—other than him, of course.

“Like what?”

“Hooking up with someone and getting a fun reason to be as sore as I am.” You huffed, and he nearly choked on his spit.

“Then go for it. More power to you. I might do the same at some point, haven’t gotten laid in way too fuckin’ long,” he waved his hand, and let his eyes slide shut.

You’re silent for a few moments, and then there’s a warm hand toying with the skin where his shirt has ridden up.

“I had someone specific in mind,” your voice is sweet and low, and his eyes snap open as your nails scrape over his hip bone.

“Yeah?” He asks, and he’s honestly glad he wears his dance belt to practice religiously because the speed in which he was starting to get hard was embarrassing.

“Yeah,” you smile, fingers creeping up his toned stomach with your normal confidence, whatever (pretense of) shyness you’d had vanished. “You.”

“God,” he groaned. “I don’t know. We have to do partner dances and shit. We’re friends.”

You pouted at him, letting your nails bite his skin, just a little. “Are you sure you don’t wanna?”

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t blind, you were hot, and leotards left just enough to the imagination that he’d thought of what you might look like naked, but he always pushed away the thought as soon as it entered his mind out of respect for you.

But here you were, offering yourself to him, with big, round, and pleading eyes, and parted lips that curl into a pleased smile as his muscles tense under your cold hand.

He wonders briefly if he fell asleep and he’s just dreaming this, but the ghosting of your breath on his skin, faint and barely present, and the hum of the air conditioning is far more real than anything he could imagine.

“Hyuckie,” you whine, drawing out the ending. “Please?”

He’s going to regret this.

“Fuck, yeah, sure. Sure. Absolutely. I’m down.” He agrees, and you smile, pleased, pulling his shirt back down.

“How stressed are you?” You ask teasingly, and he rolls his eyes.

“I should be asking you that, troublemaker,” he sits up. “You’re the one propositioning me. Want me that bad?”

You don’t meet his gaze now, and he chuckles, raising a brow.

“Don’t get shy on me now, pretty,” Hyuck is grinning now, because he’s flipped the dynamic in only a few seconds. “Use your words.”

With a huff, you stand. “Come with me.”

He hums, planning on winding you up. “Why should I?”

“So you can find out just how bad I want you.”

He stands, takes a second to adjust his dance belt and sweatpants, and grabs your hand to let you drag him along.

There’s a nervous energy radiating off of you, and when you get to your dorm you stand there for a few seconds, blinking at him and his intent gaze.

“Do you, um, do you want a drink?” You ask, and he smiles sweetly, rubbing his thumb over your hand before he pulls out a beer and an apple soju from your minifridge. He hands you the beer.

“Get comfy,” he says, dropping his voice to see the way your eyes widen. He smiles and sips his soju, watching you relax as the beer gets to you.

When both of you have finished your drinks, his head is buzzing a little with ideas of what he can do to you, and you’re obviously more comfortable, relaxed on your mattress and smiling at him, waiting for him to act on the mounting tension in the room.

He walks towards you slowly, admiring the curve of your throat and the way you swallow, nervous when he doesn’t speak.

“How stressed are you?” He asks, echoing your earlier words, fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of your shorts, fingers hooking around the elastic and tugging, pulling them down your legs.

You squirm as his hot breaths hit your skin, and he knows this is an absolutely terrible idea, because he loves your presence and personality, and you’re sexy as hell, and he has a feeling this will end with him in love with you, but your eyes are blown and desperate and your hips are already wiggling with your excitement, so he pushes the thought aside.

“Answer me.” He orders, voice colder. “You know how much I like obedience, don’t you?” You did, and he knew it.

Whenever you did partner dances, he took the lead and expected you to listen, to not question him. You still did, delighting in getting under his skin and being a menace the same way he enjoys being irritating to the people he cares about, but you knew to listen when it came to important things.

And, well, Donghyuck considers sex very important. And he knows you do too, from the way you rarely hook up with people and the way it was never just a one night stand. Though you definitely don’t consider yourself above casual sex, as made clear by you propositioning him, you picked him for a reason.

You wanted to fuck him more than once.

He knows you trust him, and that makes his head a little fuzzy with desire, and he knows you find him sexy, and he will ride the high of you wanting him as long as you’ll allow it.

“Very stressed,” you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he coos mockingly, pinching your thigh to watch how you react to his touch. You whine, lip catching in your teeth and eyes fluttering shut.

Donghyuck’s pleased with your reaction. You were sensitive. And into a little pain mixed with your pleasure. Exactly how he liked his partners.

“I should help you relax, shouldn’t I?”

You don’t respond right away, and he can practically see the gears turning your head as you try to figure him out. “I, oh—” your breath hitches as one finger rubs your clit over your panties.

“Keep talking.”

“I, um, I think you should do whatever you want, Hyuckie,” you answer, licking your lips.

“Mm, so good for me,” he purrs, pleased with the way you answered him. “I think I might just keep you around. Maybe even have you as a fucktoy,” he pouts at you, like he might be talking too fast for you to follow, which might be true with how messy you look already, clearly a little tipsy and needy, having gone far too long without being touched by anyone other than yourself. “Just a needy thing I can slip into any time I need to take the edge off, right?”

He’s mocking you, but your eyes are dark and far away, and you nod eagerly.

“Want you. Please.” You’re doing your best to hold your hips still as his finger continues against your clit, but you’re still shuffling from side to side to get more friction.

Hyuck removes his sweatpants and dance belt, and holds eye contact with you as he pulls your panties down your legs.

With a whine, you tug at the hem of his shirt until he pulls it off. He leaves yours on, but unclasps your bra, knowing the wire is probably digging into your skin uncomfortably.

You smile at him when he does that, but any teasing sentence about him being soft, or sweeter than you thought, you might try to manage dissolves into a moan as he kisses your pussy.

Hyuck knows he’s good at giving head. He’s been told many times, but something about the way he eats you out is different than normal, and he wonders if it’s because he knows you’ll fuck again and he wants to be the best sex you’ve ever had, or if it’s because you’re close friends and have danced together. You know one another’s bodies near perfectly, and this arrangement will make it so you know every inch of one another, know it perfectly.

His hand grips your hip tighter, and he sucks your clit into his mouth, gently rubbing his tongue over it, and you whine loudly, heels digging into his shoulders. You move one of your hands to cover your mouth, and he makes a dissatisfied hum against you.

You muffle your moan at the vibration and he pulls back, licking your wetness off his lips. “I want to hear you,”

“‘S embarrassing,” you protest.

He narrows his eyes. “Do you want to cum?” You nod vigorously. “Then do as I say or you’re just going to watch me get myself off, and none of your toys are going to feel as good as I do.”

You swallow. “Who made you the one in charge?”

Hyuck sits back on his feet. “You, when you asked to hook up,” he palms his cock lazily, preening under your heavy gaze as you stare at the movement. “Now, do what I tell you to do, or you’re just going to watch me get off, and you’re going to be stuck with a vibrator and feel just as empty as when we started out.”

Whining at his words, you nod, and he moves his hands to grip your hips, sucking hard on your clit. The suction makes your hips buck, and while you’re distracted he slides two fingers in.

You whimper from the stretch, and he chuckles, pulling back to speak as his fingers continue to stretch you. “Too much?”

“No, feels good, so good,” you murmur in reply, and he hums.

“Good. You’re going to need to take at least three before you can even attempt to take my cock,”

“I can take it,” you protest, and he scoffs.

“Sure you can,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re tight and clenching around just my fingers. Gonna need to make you cum a few times before your body can take me. You wanted to be sore, not in pain,”

You pout. “But… I can take it. Want it,”

Hyuck hums, slipping in a third finger and delighting in the lewd sounds of your wetness and your gasping and shaky moans as his thumb rolls your clit. “I’ll make sure you can, baby. Just not yet. Now behave.”

You glower at him. “I am.”

“I don’t like when my fucktoys talk back,” Hyuck’s voice is sharp again. “I like when they tell me how good it feels and beg for more, but they shouldn’t question me when I can leave them high and dry.”

You clench around his fingers at the words, and he smirks.

“Don’t tell me you like the idea of you having no control and giving it all to me?”

“What am I meant to want?” You bite back, voice weak and strained as your hips buck and his fingers brush against you just right. “If I like you mean, you mock me, but if I want to have power you’re gonna leave me wanting. It’s not fair,”

“Hm,” Hyuck pouts at you. “I never claimed to be fair though.”

And then he lowers his lips back to your clit, and you cry out at the sensation as he lights your nerves on fire.

You’re listening to him, moaning without a care for your noise level, and your thighs are trying to clamp around him as you squirm from the stimulation, but he delights in the pressure and the throbbing of your heartbeat he can feel under his lips.

Your wetness rolls down his hand and wrist, and he hums softly into you, focused on scissoring you open. You clench at the intrusion, squirming as he tongues your clit and curls his fingers just right, committing to memory the spongy flesh his fingers brush.

“Hyuck!” You gasp, voice shaky as you cum on his hand, and he pulls back, his fingers continuing to stretch you through the aftershocks.

“Good, baby,” he purrs, holding your hips still as you try to pull away. “You wanna try my cock now? Or do you want to keep dripping on my hands and sheets like a slut?”

“‘M not a slut,” you protest, a fire in your eyes as you sit up. “Want your cock.”

He grins. “Then come sit. Gonna be so deep in you, I understand if it takes you a bit to take all of me.”

You glower at him, but your gaze drops to his hard cock, red at the tip and dribbling precum, and he watches you lick your lips, smiling smugly as he realizes his effect on you.

“Want to suck me off?” He asks, purposefully spreading the arousal that still coats his fingers over his cock. “Show me how good your mouth is when it’s not talking back.”

You nod, kissing his chest and stomach, trailing your kisses down, down, down, and he stares at you curiously as you lick the tip.

You seem pleased with the taste, or at least, indifferent to it, as you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft and get him slick with spit. He breathes out a shaky breath and curls his hands into loose fists, but he lets you take your time, delighting in the need in your eyes and the warmth of your mouth as you slowly take him in.

With a hum around him that has his muscles twitching, you take him as far as you can into your mouth, and you stroke the bit you can’t fit, other hand rolling his balls. Hyuck hisses and bucks his hips up slightly, delighting in the way your throat tightens around him as you gag.

Glaring up at him, you relax your throat and breathe through your nose, and he pats your head. “Good job,” he coos condescendingly. “I knew you’d be a good cocksucker.”

You hum at the praise, hollowing your cheeks around him, and he presses you further with a hand on the back of your head, rolling his hips in small thrusts. Your hand has stopped toying with his balls, and he looks down to see you fingering yourself desperately, humping your hand for some pleasure.

“Tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “And you say you aren’t a slut. Are you that needy for me?”

You bob your head on his cock, and he rolls his eyes, tugging you off, and he swears the sight of you, lips puffy, drool on your chin and a strand of spit connecting your lips to his cock, eyes glazed with desire, is going to be branded into his memory.

“Answer me.”

“Not a slut.” You deny, but you’re moaning as your hips stutter over your fingers. He knows they don’t feel as good as his, but he allows you to desperately try to get off, slipping a hand under your shirt to roughly knead your tits.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t fuck you like one, hm? Sluts and fucktoys get fucked rough and good until they can’t take more. Good and innocent partners get treated like fine china… at least the first time. They’ll become needy for me soon enough.”

You frown, obviously wanting to be fucked roughly. “What about good ones who just need stress relief?”

Hyuck waves his hand. “I don’t bother with them. Too high-strung. Now, tell me. Are you a slut?”

“For you, yeah,” you agree breathlessly, trying to appease him, whimpering as you cum on your fingers. “But only, fuck, while we’re hooking up. I’m not that needy.”

He tweaks your nipples, pleased. “Good. Now, come sit on my cock. You got it nice and ready, I suppose you deserve it.”

Eyes eager, you kiss his shoulders and guide his tip into your waiting pussy, dripping on him as you slowly sink down, hissing and tensing every inch or so. You’re warm around him, pulsing and desperate and so hot. He wants nothing more than to thrust up, force you to take it all as he bottoms out, but that can wait. He needs you utterly desperate before you get what you want.

Whimpering, you roll your hips and finally take all of him. “You’re so big,” you moan brokenly as he twitches inside you and you bounce a little on him. “Feels so good.”

“Your toys couldn’t compare, right?” He asks smugly, leaning back on his arms. You nod dumbly as you make a rhythm, a little sloppy, to your bounces, and he hisses, moaning your name softly as you clench and flutter around him. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

You whine at the praise, bouncing more eagerly, and your thighs are probably burning, nails digging into his shoulders to balance yourself as you take him. You bring one hand to your clit, rubbing and moaning as his tip brushes against you just right.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you slow, murmuring curses and pleads for him to please move.

“Want me to fuck you? Poor baby all tired?”

You nod, and Hyuck grins. Now, he could have his way with you.

He braces himself to get leverage, and thrusts up into you, hard and deep. The way you cry out and your head falls back has him smirking, biting his lip at the sight of you bouncing to meet his thrusts as he sets a punishing rhythm.

With a huff, he yanks your shirt off, and he presses hot and sloppy kisses to your tits, mouthing at your nipples and scraping gently with his teeth to hear the way you moan his name like a prayer.

“Pretty thing,” he coos, blowing cold air over your sensitive skin. “Gonna cum on my cock?” He can feel you tensing, feel your walls fluttering around him, can see the glassy telltale signs of tears in your eyes.

“Yes, Hyuckie, yes,” you moan out, clenching around him as you fall apart, muscles twitching and body shuddering as he only speeds up. “Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck—it’s too much, can’t,”

“Can,” he says, voice deep and rough. “Will. Want me to cum in you? So you have a physical reminder you’re my slut.”

You whine, nodding desperately, and he knows you’re far too gone to realize the consequences, but he knows you’re on birth control—you’ve bitched about the side effects many times—and he’ll buy you Plan B if you want.

“Only for you,” you agree.

You don’t mean it. You’re not his in any way, except carnally, right now, but he’ll take it, his possessive side rearing up as he rubs your puffy clit and you cum with him, milking him for everything he’s worth as he throbs inside you, cock twitching as he fills you to the brim.

“So good for me,” he murmurs as he pulls out, watching how his cum drips out with a proud smile. “Messy.”

You whine softly, eyes hazy and skin slick with sweat. “Your fault.”

“It’s always my fault,” he complains playfully. “It’s my fault when you mess up during dance practice too.”

“It is,” you agree, voice thick and sleepy as you blink up at him. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“So now I have to clean you too,” he huffs. He was going to anyways. “At least I made sure you were sore. It’s what you wanted, right?”

“Shut up.” You mumble. “Meanie. I’m not a slut, by the way.”

“I know,” he laughs, rummaging through your closet to find a rag. “You will be when I’m fucking you. I just get a little mean when I fuck pretty people.”

You laugh. “At least you compliment me. And a little? I would hate to see what you really mean is like.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Only assholes get to hear me be really mean,” he walks into the bathroom and soaks the rag with warm water and then walks back to you, lounging on your bed. “And yeah, of course, I only hook up with sexy people. You have to know you’re hot.”

“I do. I just appreciate hearing it.”

“Not gonna even compliment me back,” Donghyuck pouts as he wipes you clean. “So rude.”

“You have a big enough head already.” you chuckle. “But fine. You’re hot, Donghyuck.”

“I know.” He beams at you. “Do you wanna go get boba?”

“If my legs still work.”

—————————

DONGHYUCK WAS GRATEFUL YOU WEREN’T LIKE OTHER FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS OR HOOKUPS HE’D HAD. You treated him normally outside the bedroom, like you all had never even fucked, and weren’t clingy or distant or anything. You were just yourself, the way you always had been.

Like right now, teasing him for messing up during practice, and saying you were the best dancer in the department.

“Come on, Hyuck,” you pout at him. “You’re getting sloppy. I thought you were the king of jumps.”

Donghyuck glowers at you. “I stumbled! Sue me,” he knows he’s being huffy, and yes, he can take teasing—and he dishes it out too—but he’s proud of his dancing and his singing, though he doesn’t share his singing, and when people tease him for it, he gets more defensive than normal.

You chuckle. “We’re too poor for that,”

He nods. “Yeah. We’re college students, of course we’re broke. But at least we get money from dance performances sometimes. It’s so hard to make time for a job,”

You sigh. “Yeah. I want to get a job but I’m so tired all the time.”

Hyuck smiles. “Tell me about it. Wanna go get coffee?”

With a hum, you cling to his arm. “Let’s go. You’re paying, by the way.”

“What? Why?” He pouts at you, throwing his leather jacket over his shoulder. He wears it almost constantly, and it’s become part of his brand on campus—the ballet dancer that definitely looks nothing like a ballet dancer. He bought it in high school and cherishes all the creases its gained over the years.

“Because you love me.” You smile at him, and he has to fight the urge to smile back.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at you. “You only like me when I have a credit card.”

You shrug. “Debit and cash too.”

He playfully hits your arm. “Gold digger.” He huffs, and you giggle sweetly, and his frustration melts away. You paid half the time anyways, and he knew it was his turn. He just wanted to try to wiggle out of it, like he always does.

“Oh!” You suddenly perk up. “I remember there’s this new puppy cafe that just opened nearby. Can we please go there?”

Hyuck sighs. “Give me the address.”

You beam at him, texting it to him. “It’s within walking distance. C’mon!”

He lets you drag him along, going on about your day and how annoying your group mates were for a project you were assigned recently, and how they didn’t even want to give you their numbers—which you exclaim was rude, because you weren’t even going to text them, because they didn’t seem like people you wanted to be friends with, you just wanted to ensure they did their part.

“Maybe they didn’t want to give it because they were planning on not doing their work.”

“Ugh,” you pout. “Why can’t you be in all of my classes? I’d always partner with you. Funny, one of my best friends, actually do your work…”

Hyuck grins. “Yeah, I’m awesome. Not everyone can be me though. Having the entire world be full of sexy and funny people is just impossible.”

You groan. “You are so stupid.”

“You love me.” When you’re silent, he frowns at you. “Right?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You ask, rubbing your arms from the chill of early spring with a biting breeze. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t love you.”

“Putting up with me is a pleasure,” Hyuck huffs, pulling his leather jacket over your shoulders. “Give it back to me when we’re in the cafe. You’re shaking like a leaf, so don’t try to tell me you don’t need it.”

You frown at him. “Annoying ass. Telling me what I need and shit.”

“You love it.” He laughs, and you sigh, nodding.

“Yes, we know I’m mentally ill. That’s the only explanation for me liking you.”

Donghyuck makes an offended sound in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue it further, falling into a comfortable silence as the two of you walk the last two blocks to the cafe.

The cafe isn’t empty, but there’s only a few customers—which made sense, it was around two p.m. on a weekday, so people were at work or had class, and the positioning of the cafe was clearly purposefully done to attract college students (which worked, he noted, hell, you and Hyuck walked there from campus).

Dogs greet you, tails wagging and smiling, alongside a bright bell ringing as the door shuts behind you.

You smile down at them, kneeling to pet them as they crowd around your ankles, rubbing their heads and licking and sniffing.

Donghyuck smiles and walks to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate and an americano, and he claims a seat on a beanbag once the drinks are done. You make your way to him, holding a puppy, which you’re cooing at as you sit on the floor between Hyuck’s knees.

“Here,” he hands you the hot chocolate, which you grab with a little effort, one hand still busy stroking the dog. “Don’t get too attached,” he teases, smiling. “You can’t afford a dog.”

You frown. “Can you afford a dog?”

“I might be able to buy you drinks but pets are expensive,” he reminds gently. “Besides, dance takes up pretty much all my time, alongside class.”

“You make time for me and the guys,” you mumble, pouting at him. “Why couldn’t you make time for a puppy?”

“Because I’d be fully responsible caring for it and would have no help,” Donghyuck sighs. “And I would want help with it, because I would want to give the dog a good life and not neglect it.”

Your frown softens. “Fine… only if you promise that if you ever get a dog, I’m one of the godparents and the first person you pick for dogsitting.”

Hyuck chuckles. “I don’t know… I might pick Jeno over you for that.”

You huff, sipping your hot chocolate and turning your gaze to the dog. “Remind me to cut you out of my life.”

“Uh huh,” Hyuck chuckles. “How am I meant to do that if I’m cut out?”

“Shit…” you mumble. “I didn’t think about that. Nevermind.”

“Dumbass,” he hums fondly, sipping his drink and sighing as he melts into the beanbag. “Can you tell the professor I’m sick?”

“Are you?” You eye him, leaning away from his knees playfully, as if he’s contagious.

“No.” Donghyuck grins. “But I’m comfy and I don’t feel like attending math today. Fuck math. Me and my homies hate math.”

You giggle. “I didn’t realize you and Renjun were no longer homies.”

“He’s a language man,” Hyuck corrects. “None of us are math men. We are all himbos.”

“Aren’t himbos meant to be sexy?” You deadpan, eyeing him. “Clearly, you missed the memo.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. “You’re one to talk,”

Donghyuck doesn’t elaborate why you’re one to talk, but the way you chew on your lip and stare at the dog tells him all he needs to know. You’re thinking of exactly every time you’ve found him sexy, and the one time (so far) the two of you have acted on it.

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

He grins. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up!” You repeat, and his grin widens. “Also, if you’re sick, I’m sick too. Sorry, professor, I’ve caught dumbass disease. I’ve spent too much time with Hyuck.”

Donghyuck grins. “Are you saying you want to skip with me?”

“There’s a lot of things I want to do with you.” You say, and he arches a brow. Your confidence, though never surprising, was always equal parts intriguing and amusing to him.

“Care to show me?” He asks, chugging the rest of his drink and placing it on the counter, stretching as he looks down at you.

With a grin and a flash in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know about what skipping will entail, you shift the puppy out of your lap, stand, and place your nearly finished drink next to his cup.

“What are you waiting for, my dear himbo? Let’s get out of here.”

—————————

A COUPLE MONTHS INTO HOOKING UP WITH YOU WAS WHEN DONGHYUCK CAME TO TERMS WITH HOW AWFUL OF AN IDEA THIS WAS, AND THE REALITY OF HIS SITUATION.

He was most definitely into you, in more than a platonic sense. He wasn’t sure when it started, but he’d started to get possessive over you—men would flirt with you, both seriously and playfully, and there’d be a dark frustration that would bubble up in him, especially if you’d reciprocate or play along, giggling or saying something just as flirty back.

Even now, sitting around with your friends and his, with you leaning your head on his lap, you were playfully flirting with Jaemin.

Hyuck’s fingers faltered in the way they carded through your hair, and he resumes with a huff when you laugh and tell Jaemin “you’re free whenever he is if he’s paying.”

Jaemin looks smug, and Donghyuck pokes his cheek with his tongue, but he turns to Jeno and Renjun to argue about the movie they’d be watching — he was once again asking for the Kissing Booth, but everyone — even you — chimed in to insult his choice.

He huffs, pouting down at you, and you chuckle, poking his nose gently. “Watch Kissing Booth on your own time, Hyuckie,”

He scowls at you, rolling his eyes. “Part of the fun is how much everyone else hates it. What about To All The Boys?”

Renjun and you both perk up a little, but Jisung and Chenle’s overlapping whines are a resounding no, accompanied with Jeno’s scrunched up nose, and Jaemin’s indifference.

“You all suck.” Donghyuck mumbles, shifting you out of his lap. You whine, and he smiles at you, and his heart flutters a little when he meets your pleading gaze and you hold his hand loosely to keep him in place.

Swallowing, he pulls back. “Making popcorn,” he tells you, and you arch a brow — he’d have to share, he knew it — but nod.

In the kitchen, after starting the popcorn, he taps his fingers against the countertop and stares outside. The leaves sway in the wind, and moonlight filters through the branches. There’s a little bit of fog, and it’s beautiful.

Absorbed in his thoughts — which frustratingly, keep circling back to you — he doesn’t hear you approach until you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Jesus!” Hyuck gasps out, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you want me to die?”

“No,” you huff. “What would I do without my best friend? Especially if the best friend comes with good dick.”

He shushes you, cheeks burning. “Right now?”

He wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t look good. You were in pajamas, a too big tee that showed your pebbled nipples and a hint of cleavage, and silken shorts, hair a mess from how you’ve been laying and his hands, and your eyes were sleepy. It made his heart ache with fondness.

“No.” You pause. “Maybe. Do you have beer?”

“Um, yeah, yeah,” he blinks forcefully to push away thoughts of you under him and how he could definitely fool around with you during the movie and force you to stay quiet. “In the fridge.”

You smile at him sweetly, and he grabs the popcorn with a second left on a timer — he hated the beeping, and you chuckle as he quietly curses at the microwave for being so messy (Jisung had clearly been using it and didn’t clean the stains).

Handing him a beer, you walk back to the couch — taking the popcorn bowl as you do, and he sighs. He was going to have to beg for a bite of his own damn popcorn, but you were so cute he didn’t mind too much.

When everyone’s settled and finally agreed on a movie (Baby Driver), you nudge Hyuck’s hand until he opens your beer for you, and his hand drifts to rest over you, fingers brushing your breasts before settling by your hip.

You don’t even flinch, and he smiles, rubbing circles into your skin, and he’s not even watching the movie by the time they’re thirty minutes in, staring fondly at your face and rapt attention to the cinematography, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you.

But you didn’t kiss. You were friends.

He finishes his beer, and he can feel eyes burning into him — Jisung, tilting his head at the sight of you cuddled into Donghyuck’s side. He shrugs, and Jisung does too before turning back to the TV and stealing Chenle’s blanket, bickering quietly amongst themselves.

Around an hour and thirty minutes in, when the movie is starting to wind down, his fingers trail to your inner thighs and squeeze the skin, and when you tense, he smiles widely. He scrapes his blunt nails over the skin, your muscles tensing under his touch.

You let out a soft little gasp as his hand slides up, and he makes a shushing motion towards you. His fingers slide over your pussy through the silk fabric of your shorts, and he can feel you throbbing, and a bolt of desire runs through him.

Your eyes flutter closed as he continues teasing you under the blanket, and he hums.

“That was a good movie,” he says after a bit, cracking his neck. “I think they’re asleep,” he nods at you. “I’ll clean up. Not tired, probably gonna game for a bit,”

The guys look skeptical, but nod, filtering out, and you’re tense against him — he was circling your clit the whole time he was talking, and when the last door clicks shut, you gasp out and grip his hand.

“What happened to being scandalized at the idea of hooking up here?” You hiss out, turning in his arms to face and straddle him.

Donghyuck licks his lips, pressing a kiss to your skin where your neckline has dipped lower. “Look delectable,” his voice is deep and husky. “Can’t keep me away from this perfect pussy.”

One finger tugs your shorts to the side, and he’s met with no panties and a roll of your hips as he teases your hole.

“Then fuck me. Quickly. I don’t want to get caught.”

Hyuck frowns, and he hopes you don’t catch it. He didn’t care if you were caught, because he liked you and felt no shame. “Tsk, you think I’ll listen? I want you needy.” For me, he adds mentally.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want the guys to see me naked.”

Donghyuck grins and raises a brow. “Then I guess we’ll keep you clothed.” He awkwardly shuffles his boxers and shorts lower, and the way you let out a small moan and rock forward on his hand at the sight of him has him preening.

He guides his tip into you, finger tightly clenching your hip as he bottoms out. “So fucking tight for me, baby,” he coos breathlessly, and you nod, biting your lip.

“Feels so good,” you whimper out, dropping your forehead against his. “Been, fuck, too long,” his fingers diligently work your clit as you bounce on him, and he moves his head to drag his teeth across your neck. You shudder against him and clench, and he sucks a mark onto your collarbone — you’ll get on his ass about it later, but you covered in a reminder of him has his cock twitching. “Thinkin’ about this for so long.”

Donghyuck hums. “How long, pretty?”

“Ah, fuck,” you whine. “Since before we started hooking up. But been so long since we last did I, mm, been so needy. My fingers aren’t enough.”

“My needy slut,” he coos. “Just needed my cock?”

You nod dumbly, eyes glassy as you grind and hump against him, cunt clenching and needy for his cum as he bucks up into you.

“C’mon, baby, we gotta be quick,” he breathes out, and you whine as his fingers toy with your nipples. He sucks a few more hickeys into your skin as you cum, shuddering on top of him as his hips stutter and he fills you up.

He pulls out and grabs a tissue to wipe both of you a little before he places your shorts back — soaked with your wetness.

“Go to my room and grab some clean clothes. I do actually have to clean.” He pouts.

Donghyuck knows he signed up for it, but cuddling you sounded so much better than cleaning ramen cups and snack packages, but he does diligently, and when he’s finally done, you’re in his room, sprawled on his bed with a pout.

“‘M tired.”

“Go to sleep, silly,” Hyuck coos. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

“That we just fucked on?” You scrunch your nose up and pause. “Please tell me you cleaned it.”

“Of course I did, I don’t want Renjun to kill me if he finds out.” Donghyuck scoffs. “If you want to sleep with me — in a non-sexual way — you could’ve just said.”

“I’m putting a wall of pillows between us.”

When he wakes up, you’re curled into his side. He feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest at the sight of you with messy hair and a little drool — that should be gross but is cute instead — on your chin.

All the guys are long gone, and a check of his phone has no messages scolding him for fucking on the couch, so he figures he’s in the clear.

Donghyuck kisses your forehead. “Love you,” he whispers, and part of you hopes he hears — and part of him hopes you don’t, because he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship.

He slips out of your arms and goes to make breakfast (it’s really lunch, it’s one thirty, and he’s glad neither of you had class today until dance practice at five thirty because you would kill him if he was the reason you slept through a class), eggs and waffles (with Jaemin’s fancy waffle maker that Donghyuck uses more than Jaemin) and cut fruit.

About fifteen minutes later, when his coffee is done and he’s drinking it, you appear messy haired and bright eyed. “For me?” You ask, pointing at a plate.

“No. For me, obviously. I made two plates just to taunt you.”

You glare at him, rubbing your eyes, and it’s so domestic that he aches.

You eat in silence, and when you ask for a toothbrush, he goes to his bathroom to hunt for an unused one.

While you wait, you run your fingers over the hickeys he’s left. “Marks?”

Donghyuck flushes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It doesn’t sound fine.

“We can do the cold spoon thing. And I have makeup — I don’t know if it’s your color but we can at least use my color correctors, like a peach or mint one based on how dark it is.” Hyuck blabbers, and you shrug.

“Sure. You’re doing it though.”

“I don’t mind. Do you have any clothes you left here from the last movie night?”

He’s putting toothpaste on a brush for you and wets it before handing it to you. You shake your head no.

“Well, that shirt is old, you can have it, but it’s kinda threadbare. You’re gonna have to wear your bra from yesterday and probably one of my jackets.”

You scrunch up your nose and nod, and he watches you brush your teeth. He feels a little weird, but you don’t seem to react so he continues to admire you as you try to fix your hair.

The silence feels uncomfortable, and he’s not quite sure why. It’s probably his fault. You only seemed mildly annoyed about the hickeys.

Both of you end up watching TikToks and laughing about them until it’s time to get ready to head to practice, and he hands you his leather jacket while he tugs off his shirt and finds a tighter fitting black tee — sweat wicking, as this practice was meant to last until ten.

You whistle lowly at the sight of his chest, and he grumbles at you as he tugs the shirt on, and when he turns to see you in the leggings you wore before changing into pajamas yesterday, his shirt, and his jacket, he feels like the world has stopped.

You’re always beautiful, but something about the casual intimacy of you in his clothes — in his favorite jacket he’s had since high school — has his heart skipping a beat.

“Ready to go?” He asks as you check your bag. When you nod, he guides you out of the house and locks up behind him, and you point out pretty flowers and architecture on the walk to campus and the dance rooms, and he’s honestly not paying too much attention (you’re using terms you learned in classes about architecture, and all he knows about architecture is that it makes buildings work) but your voice soothes him and you’re lit up with joy, so he encourages you to keep talking.

Practice lasts a while, and he makes a few small mistakes (because he was admiring you, but he just says he tripped instead) but it’s a lot better than a few days prior.

You steal his water bottle and he catches you out of the corner of his eye as he talks to San, but he ignores you until San leaves and you lean your head on his arm.

“Are you ok?” You question softly.

“Yeah, why?” Hyuck murmurs, and you frown, looking down.

“You made more mistakes than normal and seem nervous. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He assures you, patting your head.

You chew on your lip. “Is this about this morning?”

Donghyuck furrows his brow and tries to stamp down the flash of panic that flares through him. “About what this morning?”

“Me having you cover the hickeys and not saying I love you back.”

His heart sinks. Of course you heard him. “No, you rarely say it back anyways,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “I know you love me.”

And the way you love him, as only a friend, will be enough for now.

—————————

HE’D GOTTEN DISTANT. He already regretted it, the way your face sank and you seemed hurt if he said he was busy, but his feelings for you were only growing stronger and he didn’t want to force you into an awkward situation where he confesses and you can’t reciprocate.

And selfishly, he wanted to at least have access to hook up with you if he couldn’t kiss you and have you as his partner. Hook ups were more infrequent, though, and while you two still joked and he tried to keep his nerves hidden and the tension unnoticeable, it was to the point you were upset.

He felt unbelievably guilty.

And the guys had figured out something was going on (and by that, he means Jaemin and Renjun did but Jaemin accidentally told the rest of them so now there was a whole mess with them chiding him and constantly giving him updates on how upset you were that he was distant as if he didn’t already feel like shit).

That’s how he’d gotten to this scenario, forced into a room with you by the guys (and they’d barricaded the door with furniture before yelling they’d be back in an hour. They didn’t know you all were hooking up, but they knew there was something wrong and they were sick of it).

“Hyuck?” You ask, voice small, and he flinches slightly, closing his eyes before turning to look at you and studying how nervous you are, hands fidgeting and teeth worrying your lip.

He tugs your lip out with his thumb and smiles at you. “I’m sorry.”

You hum.

“I’ve been distant, it’s not your fault, I’m just going through some shit and have been stressed and unfairly taking it out on you. It’s not intentional, I swear, I still love being around you, but… it’s hard.”

Nodding, you rub his arm. “Dance stuff?”

Donghyuck swallows. “Yeah… yeah, the, um, the partner dance. I’m worried I’ll hurt you or mess up the day of — which is ironic because I’ve hurt you by being distant — but I’ve been trying to workout more and figure out why I’m suddenly so nervous, on top of exams. ‘M sorry.”

“It’s ok, Hyuckie,” you promise, kissing his cheek, and his heart skips a beat. “Do you need stress relief?”

He stares at you with wide eyes. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“That didn’t stop you from fucking me on your couch,” you chuckle, and he hums, tilting his head back as you press kisses to his jawline and neck.

You tug the hem of his shirt up and off over his head, kissing down his stomach and smiling as his muscles tense under your featherlight touch.

“Let me take care of you,” you coo, palming him over his shorts, and he lets out a pitiful whine that has his face burning in shame.

“Please,” he chokes out, overwhelmed with the care and reverence in your touch. He knows you love him, not how he loves you, but the way you’re kissing his skin and working him up makes him feel like you could reciprocate, cherishing his body and tan skin and the bruise on his stomach, right above his hip bone, from dance practice.

You chuckle and tug his boxers down, and with a grin up at him, you take him into your mouth, holding his gaze.

He wants to look away, shy, but the sight of you, hair framing your face, eyes bright and full of concern and desire, is too spectacular to look away from.

His hips buck, and his breathing is rough and ragged as you take him fully into your mouth, and when you force his thighs apart and one hand fondles his balls, he groans weakly, voice cracking at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby, please,” he begs, and he’s not even sure what he’s asking for at this point. You hum around him and he can feel his thighs twitch from the sensation, and he fists a hand in your hair, desperate to ground himself. “Ah, fuck, you’re so good to me.”

You moan around him, and he watches as you move one hand down to your shorts, and he can’t even attempt to tell you off, hopelessly aroused that you’re so needy from his cock in your mouth.

Donghyuck shudders as he cums, and you swallow it with a wink, and offer him your wet fingers. With a dark groan and heady eyes locked on yours, he licks your arousal off and tugs you closer to him by your hips.

Hyuck kisses you like you’re the air he needs to live, and you taste like his arousal, and he’s sure you can taste your wetness on his tongue, and he presses closer to you, grinding his already hardening cock against your hip as he swallows your gasps.

“Off,” he grumbles, yanking at your clothes, and you eagerly shuck them off.

He kisses you again, distractedly, softly, sweetly. He knows it’s obvious now, that he’s in love with you, but kissing you is quickly becoming one of his favorite things and he’s not sure he can ever stop — not when you moan into his mouth and let out soft needy cries as his fingers work you open for him, or when you press against him and suck on his tongue.

It doesn’t take long to prep you, not with how you’re soaking his fingers, and he eagerly cages you under him, sliding home with a high moan as you clench around him, nails digging into his shoulders and legs wrapping around him to keep him in you.

He fucks you eagerly, but it’s still sweet, the kisses he peppers your torso in, and he tries to drink in the sight of you, skin sweaty and heated and covered in his marks, eyes dark, and lips kiss swollen. He can’t handle the sight though, furrowing his brow as his eyes slide shut and he finds a rhythm that has you quivering under him.

He’s not going to last long, so he circles your clit and teases your nipples, delighting in the way you shudder.

You seem close too, and when you’re on the edge, you gasp out, “gonna cum, Hyuckie, fuck,”

He kisses you as you do, groaning into it as his hips stutter and he fills you. He collapses against you, and rolls to the side so he isn’t crushing you.

Brushing some of his hair aside, you meet his eyes.

“Hyuck?” You ask after a few beats of silence.

“Pretty,” he answers, shutting his eyes. He knows what’s coming.

“It’s the first time you kissed me.” You finally say. “Why?”

Donghyuck sighs. “You know why.”

You bite your lip. “You weren’t distant from the dance stress, were you?” And when he shakes his head, you tap his cheek until he opens his eyes and looks at you. “Say it.”

He pauses. He owed this much to you. “I’m… I like you. I started liking you a while ago, and I started getting fucking possessive and bitchy and sappy and I know you just wanted to hook up so I tried to distance myself to not force my feelings on you.”

You laugh and roll your hips, and he hisses at the feeling on his sensitive cock from where he’s still in you.

“You really are a himbo.”

Donghyuck makes an offended noise.

“I wouldn’t let you call me baby or degrade me during sex if I didn’t like you, and I wouldn’t be upset that you were distant if I didn’t care about you, you fucking idiot.”

“Wow.” He grumbles. “I bear my heart to you and you call me an idiot.”

He’s smiling like one, so it’s fitting, and his heart is racing. You like him too?

You grin and kiss him, soft and sweet and a promise, a kiss simply to kiss — with no motives for sex. “My idiot?” You amend, and he hums, pleased.

“As long as you’re mine,” Hyuck pauses. “And don’t try to challenge my position as best ballet dancer anymore.”

You roll your eyes. “No promises on the second demand,”

—————————

DONGHYUCK WAS A MAN IN LOVE. Proudly, much to the chagrin of his friends.

He paraded you around in his leather jacket, smiling fondly and praising you or kissing you for the little things, constantly holding your hand and begging for attention, which you always gave him with a fond eye roll and a few playful insults.

“You all are disgusting,” Chenle groaned.

You were cuddled against Hyuck, staring up at him with a soft smile and stars in your eyes, and he was sure he looked the same.

“We’re happy. Stay mad.” Hyuck dismisses, and he hears an offended whine from Chenle, but he ignores it to toy with your fingers and rub his thumb over your palm.

“If you fuck on our couch, I’m going to kill you, Hyuck,” Renjun warns, and he chokes on air.

“About that…”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, but it’s too late.

“How would you feel if I told you we were friends with benefits first and definitely fucked on the couch?”

Renjun throws a pillow at his face, and he whines when it connects.

“I’m throwing the couch out.”

“I deep cleaned it!” Hyuck protests.

“It has the ghost of your cum, I can never look at it the same.” Renjun protests, and you giggle.

Jaemin glances up. “So we’re getting rid of the grandma couch?”

“It’s not a grandma couch,” Jisung protests, and everyone stares at him blankly before a few of you burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe the pattern is, and I got it from a thrift store, but we’re college students. Not grandmas. So it’s a college student couch.”

“It smelled like mothballs when we bought it, Ji. It’s a grandma couch. And apparently also Donghyuck’s fucking couch.”

Hyuck shrugs. “At least I get some.”

Jeno laughs. “Thanks to us. You were really going to let them go because you were too shy to admit it.”

Donghyuck throws the pillow at Jeno, but he catches it.

“I hate you all.”

When you pout at him, pointing at yourself, he hums.

“I hate all of you except my baby.”

taglist (ask to be added): @sehunniepot @kshynj @jaeymark @n0hyuck @jenojaeminrenjun @keemburley @diordolcevita @cosmicwintr @makiswrld @lighthyucks @sadgirlroo @thelmathinks @the-borahae-jj @bockhyun @luv4cheol @shotarowo @greentealatte97

#THIS IS SO GOOD #you rlly popped off with this ngl <33 #also love u too ty for letting me have early access mwah <33 #recs #—misc

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