#☀️ tips! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 4 days ago

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bottle service

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Saying that… I was thinking… maybe tonight…” You can feel your skin heating in embarrassment, you’ve never had to ask a man for sex before, but it makes sense that with this man, this wonderful person who is leaving the ball in your court for all things decision-making, you have to be the one to speak up. “I was thinking maybe tonight we could go that one step further, if you want.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, body/breast worship, foreplay, pussy eating/oral, massaging, blindfold/sensory deprivation, multiple reader orgasms, praise, dirty talk, mention if toys/reader having a dry spell, Cheol’s got a big thick cock, masturbation, mention of proper aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) Doll.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 11.2k

🍭 aus. Slice of life au, bottle service girl! y/n, bouncer!Cheol, friends/coworkers to lovers.

☀️ mlist + an. As someone in the service industry, I kind of like doing this sort of au- I hope I was able to bring a bit of personal/lived experience to this fic :)

Prologue:

It’s been a long shift, and you feel on top of the world as you finally head to the back of the club to do your tip-out. Your fanny pack is full of cash, and you’re already considering different places that would be open at this time of night where you can go and grab a quick post-shift meal. You’re hoping Wonwoo is up for something, as you’ve begun to enjoy yourself more and more when you hang out with the bartender.

You wouldn’t say he’s your boyfriend, not yet, but there’s a potential with him that makes you excited to come to work on nights when you’re both scheduled.

You’ve been in the business long enough to know that relationships with coworkers in the service industry can get… well, messy, but you’re hoping that the hot, quiet bartender will be worth your time.

There’s a late-night ramen place by your apartment, and as you push through the door to the back of house, you think Wonwoo might like a bowl of noodles now that your shifts are over.

You’re walking down the hallway, tired, head in the clouds- you’re hardly thinking as you make your way to the staff room- and then, you stop dead in your tracks.

Your brain hardly registers the sight in front of you, and before you can so much as take a breath, Wonwoo is pulling away from the coworker he was just kissing.

The two stare at you, and the girl has more of a conscience than him, immediately starting to explain herself. “Doll,” she says, using the name you give clients at work, “it’s not how it looks-”

Wonwoo, in contrast, stays dead silent, staring at you without a hint of emotion in his sleepy eyes.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, and you take a deep breath. “I’m going to cashout somewhere else,” you whisper, turning to leave the staff room.

You can deal with this later- right now, you just want to finish up and clock out.

It feels like the room is spinning as you head to the lockers, where a small table provides staff space to eat. You take out your cash slip, quickly slotting in your numbers from the night.

“Are you mad?” Wonwoo’s voice behind you makes you jump, heart leaping again.

“What?”

“Are you mad I was kissing someone else?” he clarifies.

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you. “Is that really a question?”

“We’re not official,” he states.

“You’re right, we’re not.” You sigh deeply, reaching into your fanny pack to pull out cash. “Here’s your tipout.”

You shove the money against his chest, and Wonwoo looks down at it, then up at you. “Are we good?”

“We’re not good,” you tell him firmly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo lets out a breath as you head to the lockers to gather your things. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just, bottle girls are bottle girls, and… things take forever with you.”

“What?” You turn to face him.

“You know, flirting for months, finally taking you out, getting you in bed…” he slowly breaks off.

“Is this about the fact that I can’t cum easily? Are you serious?” You can feel your voice beginning to raise, and you do your best to calm down, this is not the place to be discussing your sex life.

“You’re just… I thought you’d be more fun, you know? Like the other bottle girls I’ve been with.”

“And I thought you’d be less of a fucking asshole,” you tell him, grabbing your jacket.

Wonwoo is staring at you with a stunned expression, and you leave him like that, hurrying back the way you came. It’s end of the night at the club, patrons have gone, bartenders are closing up, bouncers are putting away chairs.

You stop at the bar to tip out a few more people, and as you’re heading to the door, you notice Seungcheol approaching. He’s a dark haired, beefy bouncer, and you’re friendly with him, although he’s generally quite serious when he’s at work.

“You heading home?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yup.”

“Is Wonwoo going with you?”

“Nope.”

Seungcheol’s steps falter before he follows you out the front door of the club. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he tells you.

“I’m good.”

“Shit can be dangerous after the club closes,” Seungcheol muses. “You girls carry a lot of cash in those fanny packs of yours, and scumbags know it.”

You sigh, not having the energy to fight the bouncer on this. Things are quiet as he takes you to your car, and you’re kind of glad he doesn’t push you for any details. You know you’re exuding negative energy, a stark contrast to the way you’d been when you’d settled up to head to the back of house just a few minutes ago.

Seungcheol can read people, it’s one of the reasons he’s such a good bouncer, but he respects you enough not to pry, and you appreciate that.

He watches you get into your car, nodding to himself. “Have a good night, Doll.”

“You too, big guy,” you sigh.

Seungcheol closes your door gently for you, and as soon as he’s stepped away, you pull out of the staff parking lot. A few blocks away, you park, taking a deep breath and allowing your emotions to wash over you.

You feel stupid that you’d trusted Wonwoo, stupid that you’d thought maybe things would go somewhere with him.

From now on, you’re going to just focus on work.

The service industry is no place to find a partner.

One:

It’s been a year since you caught Wonwoo kissing someone else, and since then, you’ve really focused on your job. Wonwoo is no longer a bartender at your club, and the girl he’d made out with had left shortly after the altercation.

While the club still holds some negative feelings for you, you’ve been doing your best to push through. Money has been good, and with a fresh focus on service, you’ve become the top bottle service girl. VIP’s come just for you, and you’re used to being a little flirty to make cash.

Jeonghan and Joshua are businessmen who come in frequently, and they always ask to sit in your section.

They’re a developer and real estate agent double team, although sometimes you get confused about which one does what. They’re celebrating a recent triumph, with Joshua drunkenly explaining to you how ‘the house went through escrow, no contingencies, and now we’re smooth sailing, Doll!’

They’ve been drinking a lot, racking up a tab, paying for other people’s alcohol- these men know how to party, and you know how to keep a smiling face with endless enthusiasm for their ability to spend money.

“Have you ever thought about getting into real estate?” Jeonghan asks you. “Businessmen love it when a pretty girl is showing them around a big house, it’s part of the dream of what they could really acquire if they buy a property.”

“Can’t say I’ve considered it,” you smile.

“You’d make a killing,” Joshua agrees, leaning forward. “I’d love to have you on my team.”

“I appreciate that,” you admit. “I’m very happy where I am right now.”

“What if,” Jeonghan grins broadly, “I give you this…” He pulls out his wallet, plucking out two hundred dollar bills before sneaking them into the band of your fanny pack, “and you tell us you’ll consider the offer.”

“I’ll consider it,” you laugh, playing into their drunkenness. Considering an offer for two hundred dollars never means you have to follow through.

“That’s our girl,” Joshua chuckles.

“Our Doll,” Jeonghan agrees, his hand slipping down from your fanny pack to your thigh, exposed by your short black dress-

There’s a flash of movement, and suddenly, someone is gripping Jeonghan’s wrist. “No touching,” Seungcheol’s deep voice reminds the VIP.

Jeonghan is shocked for a moment, the emotion written all over his face. “Right, sorry, my bad.” He tears his hand away from the bouncer. “Sorry, Doll, I got carried away.”

“That’s alright,” you assure them, trying to save face with two of your biggest spenders. “I’ll be back with that round of drinks for you.”

As you turn to leave the table, you pull Seungcheol with you, taking him down to the bar before you’re able to have a discussion. “Cheol-”

“I’m sorry if I stepped in a little quickly,” he tells you immediately. “They’ve been eying you all night, like they do every night, and I just…”

“No, it’s fine, he shouldn’t have touched me, I’m glad you were there.”

“I hope this doesn’t affect your tip or anything,” Seungcheol sighs.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “I appreciate you being there.”

He’s really stepped up in the past year. Not only is he protective of you, but he’s protective of every bottle girl. There’d been a time before him where things hadn’t felt so safe, but with Cheol in the room every night, there have been significantly less incidences of violence from when the bar had first opened, or so you’ve heard.

He’s a good man, and he hires others of a similar caliber. All the bottle girls feel safe with Seungcheol and Mingyu at the door, and that sense of safety helps you all feel more comfortable at tables, leading to bigger and better tips.

Two:

You’re done cashing out for the night, and you meet Seungcheol at the door of the club. Mingyu takes over for him while the head bouncer walks you to your car, a system that’s made everyone feel safer in the past year.

“How was your night?” Seungcheol asks.

“It was good, after you checked Jeonghan, he felt bad, so they ended up tipping me out fifty percent of their bill.”

“That’s good,” he nods.

“If it weren’t for the tips, I don’t know what I’d do,” you laugh.

“It’s not a bad way to make a living,” the bouncer agrees.

“Did you know, Crystal, the new girl, she has a complete doctorate in psychology, but she makes more here as a bottle girl than by being a therapist?”

“Makes sense why the mental health in this country is trash, the government needs to pay therapists more or something.”

You laugh at Seungcheol’s words. It’s true, a lot of very important jobs are becoming less desirable due to shit pay. “I’m still shocked that I can come in for a night and make most of my rent in tips,” you admit. “With Christmas coming up, people are dropping the big bucks, feeling charitable.”

“Just be careful, people are more drunk these days too.”

“True, they are more drunk,” you admit thoughtfully, “but I don’t have to be very careful when I have you walking around making sure nothing bad will happen.”

Seungcheol laughs as he opens your car door for you, helping you into your vehicle. “I’m glad I can make you feel safe,” he tells you.

“Me too, Cheol.”

Three:

It’s New Year’s Eve and you’ve got numerous tables of big spenders. Woozi and Seokmin are regulars, with the latter of the two having somewhat of an obvious crush on you. Normally, they’re pretty respectable, with Seokmin even being known to be a huge blusher. The poor man stutters sometimes when he talks to you, and you’ve never had any trouble with them.

But tonight… well, they’ve been here for hours, and you’re realizing that tonight might be the night you have to cut someone off.

The two men order a round of shots just before midnight, and you head to talk to your manager about it.

“Vernon, may I?” you ask, coming to stand next to your newest manager.

“What’s up, Doll?” he asks, looking up from his iPad.

“My table seventy, Seokmin and Woozi. They’re regulars, usually pretty good, but they’ve ordered a lot of drinks in the past half hour or so. Seokmin in particular has been swaying for the past five minutes. They just ordered another round, and I know it’s about to be midnight on New Years, but I think we need to cut them off.”

Vernon nods, and you watch him look over toward your table. “How much have they had?”

You pull out your own iPad, showing your manager the tab that the two men have collected over the past two or so hours.

“I agree, I think we should cut Seokmin off. He’s had three or four more shots than Woozi, so I think we’ll just respectfully go talk to him.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” you sigh, hating to have to do this.

The two of you take deep breaths before walking over to the table where Seokmin and Woozi are seated.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Vernon starts, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m Vernon, I’m the manager here.” He reaches out a hand, introducing himself to the two men. “Unfortunately, based on how much the two of you have had to drink tonight, the bar has decided to cut you off.”

“What?!” Seokmin bellows, eyes going wide.

“We take our liquor license very seriously here,” Vernon says, his tone lowering to have a regretful edge. “I know you guys are regulars, and I’m sorry I have to do this, but we just have to cut you off.”

Seokmin is very pouty and after a minute, you realize Vernon’s forgetting something. You don’t want to have to remind him of policy in front of guests, but you also don’t want him to head off without finishing this interaction completely, so you step forward. “Seokmin? May I ask how you got here tonight?” You know very well that he drove his sportscar.

“The mustang,” he frowns.

Vernon picks up on your line of questioning immediately. “I’m afraid we’ll also have to ask for your keys.”

Seokmin looks like it’s the end of the world as he pulls out the keys from his suit pocket. “This is the worst,” he groans.

“I hate to be this person,” Vernon sighs again, “but we’ll also have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

“What?!” Seokmin bellows. “But midnight is in ten minutes! Can’t I just stay for ten more minutes!?”

“Seokmin,” Woozi’s voice interrupts his friends dramatics. “We know how licensing works, they’re just doing their jobs. I told you to pace yourself, and here we are. I think you should go home, make things easy on Doll and her manager.”

“We can call you a taxi,” you offer, trying to send a warm smile toward the drunken Seokmin.

“I’m being a burden,” Seokmin whines, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Doll, I’m sorry, Woozi-”

“It’s okay,” Woozi pats his friend’s back. “I’m sure me and Doll won’t hold it against you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise.

“I’ll take his tab,” Woozi tells you. “He should just get home.”

“Now you’re taking my tab?! I’m a burden and you’re a great friend!” Seokmin bellows, hugging the intense man next to him.

“Get out of here,” Woozi says, and there’s a fond smile on his face as he pats his friend’s back.

“Okay, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Seokmin apologizes again.

He stands up, and you notice immediately that he’s a little wobbly. “Let me help you outside,” you offer.

“We’ll both help,” Vernon says, and the two of you each grab one of Seokmin’s arms as he wobbles toward the front door.

It’s a packed club tonight, with many choosing your location as a spot to celebrate New Year's. The bouncers are quite busy with the door, but Seungcheol comes over the moment he notices you and Vernon struggling with a very drunken Seokmin.

“Vernon!” another bottle girl, Candy, has shown up too. “I need your help!”

“Shit,” your manager cusses. “Cheol, can you handle this?”

“I want to make sure he’s okay,” you step in. As much as your patrons are a way to make big tips, you do care about your regulars, and you know Seokmin would be happier having you there instead of some scary bouncer.

“Okay, I’ll make sure your section is covered for a few minutes,” Vernon nods before hurrying away with Crystal.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin mumbles as Seungcheol takes over his right side, helping you drag the man out of the club.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Just take a few breaths.”

The three of you stop by the curb, and Seungcheol looks around. “I’ll find a cab.”

Seokmin is standing for all of one minute before he collapses to the ground, slipping right from your grasp as he pukes onto the road in front of you.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You’re not sure what he ate today, maybe nothing, but if you’d had realized his tolerance tonight of all nights would be this bad, you would have cut him off ages ago.

You lean down, rubbing Seokmin’s back. “It’s okay,” you tell him, “let it out.”

You take care of him while Seungcheol grabs him a ride, running inside to get a bag for him incase Seokmin pukes again. Then, the two of you help the poor man into the car, with Seungcheol talking Seokmin through his address.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Seokmin moans, pulling out his wallet. “Here.” He shoves a few hundred dollar bills at you and Seungcheol.

“Just get home safe,” you tell him, accepting the money.

Seokmin can only groan, rolling his window up as the cab pulls away from the curb.

You release a deep sigh, turning to Seungcheol. “Here,” you give him half the money, but Seungcheol holds up a hand.

“That’s yours, Doll,” he sighs. “I didn’t do much.”

You open your mouth to argue, and that’s when there’s a loud boom. You look up to see fireworks, and you realize, you’re next to Seungcheol, and the clock has just struck twelve on New Years Eve.

Your eyes shift to the bouncer, realizing how close you’re standing.

He looks so pretty tonight, all big and steady- the fireworks reflecting off his dark eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself to counter the cold of the evening.

There’s a connection between the two of you, and you’ve felt it for a few months, but now, in this exact situation, you know that every fiber of your being wants this man to kiss you.

“We should uh…” you notice Seungcheol’s gaze dip to your lips, his voice faltering, “we should head inside, you look cold.”

“Right, yeah.” You have to give your head a shake to focus again. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of you go back into the club and as you begin to serve the VIP tables again, you realize that despite the head shake, you can’t get Seungcheol out of your mind.

Four:

“How’d your night go?” Seungcheol asks a few days later as he walks you to your car after a shift.

“Went alright,” you sigh. “Lots of people are doing the whole ‘Dry January’ thing, but my VIPs are pretty consistent with tips and orders.”

“That’s good,” Seungcheol nods.

“Did you hear about the staff Christmas party in a few days?” you ask.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going?”

“I’ll be there. You?”

“I’m going.”

The two of you reach your car and you turn to look at Seungcheol.

The moment on New Years is fresh on your mind, in fact, it’s been practically all you’ve been thinking about these past few days.

There’s a new tension between the two of you, and you know from the way Seungcheol shifts his weight from one foot to the other, that you’re not the only one feeling it.

“Thanks for making sure I got to my car safe.”

Seungcheol only nods, and again, you catch him staring at your lips.

Is he going to do it? Is he finally going to kiss you?

“Have a good night,” Seungcheol says gruffly, stepping back.

“Thanks, you too,” you sigh, heart sinking in your chest.

He stays standing there until you’re in your car, and with one final nod farewell, you begin to drive home, the anticipation of a kiss dying in your chest.

Five:

Staff Christmas parties can be hard in the service industry. With everyone booking their own parties and events at your place of work during the end of December, the only time to have them is early January, and then there’s the choice of doing a brunch before you open, or doing a late night thing after close.

A vote had been taken, and with many of you being night owls, you’d agreed to close an hour early on a Wednesday, so here you are, at 1 am, the first week of January, finally having your staff Christmas party.

Drinks are flowing, people are giggling, and overall, you’re enjoying yourself.

You’re not very close with many coworkers, especially after what had happened last year with Wonwoo. In fact, as you float around the room, holding your cocktail, you begin to realize that the person you might be the most connected to is - in fact - Seungcheol.

But there’s still a tension between you, one that makes you nervous to approach the head bouncer as he chills in a booth with a few other beefy security men.

You bide your time, casting a glance his way every now and then. You don’t want to approach Seungcheol when he’s surrounded by others, but as his table widdles down to just him and Mingyu, you take a breath.

Mingyu is known as the softest bouncer, he’s tall, charming, and a hundred percent puppy dog. His eyes light up as you approach, and Mingyu moves over to provide room from you in the booth. “Hi, Doll!” Mingyu beams.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you smile, taking a seat. “How are you two doing?”

“Open bar,” Mingyu responds, holding up his beer. You love how simple things are for this man, if there are cute girl and drinks, he’s happy- so, seeing as he’s a bouncer at a club, you’ve never seen Mingyu in a foul mood.

“What are you drinking, Cheol?” you ask, turning your attention to the person you really want to spend time with. “Vodka cran?”

“Cran soda,” Mingyu corrects. “Big guy isn’t a huge drinker.”

“Really?” you ask, brows raising. “I’m shocked.”

Cheol simply shrugs. “I make it a rule not to drink at work.”

“We’re off the clock,” you remind him with a grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to let loose a little? You seem tense.”

“I’m just not a huge party guy,” Seungcheol sighs, leaning back and resting his palm on the table. You’re struck by his large hands, how pretty they look-

“Speaking of partying,” Mingyu interjects, “I think they’re going to start karaoke soon, I’ve gotta go put my name down.”

You laugh, getting out of the booth to allow Mingyu to scurry away before taking your seat again. “Are you a karaoke fan?”

“Not really,” Seungcheol responds. “You?”

“I can be,” you say thoughtfully. “It depends.”

“You don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun tonight,” Seungcheol notes.

“Wow, big guy, have you been watching me?” you laugh.

“Old habits die hard,” Seungcheol says under his breath.

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

The large bouncer shrugs. “I guess, you’re our top bottle girl, you deal with regulars and VIPs who get a little more… I don’t know, bold, than others who are here. I always have my eye on you.”

You can feel your skin heat, a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Anyways,” Seungcheol swallows thickly and it’s clear he wants to shift the topic. “I’m also not drinking because I have to drive home soon.”

“You’re not staying for karaoke?”

“It’s not my scene.”

“Ah, I see.” Your heart sinks a little, you’d hoped to spend more time with him tonight.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks.

“I was probably going to get a cab,” you admit.

“Listen, I think we both spend too much time in this club surrounded by people partying. I don’t know about you, but I’m more of a stay at home and have a quiet night in kind of guy. How would you feel about getting out of here, going to mine and actually relaxing now that we’ve shown our faces here and done our due diligence?”

“I would love that,” you tell him.

Seungcheol nods. “Let’s finish our drinks then.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you giggle, lifting your glass to gently clink against his own.

It’s crazy how you can be in a club full of coworkers and alcohol, music pumping through speakers and Crystal starting a horrible cover of ‘Defying Gravity’ on karaoke, but still, staring at Seungcheol in your booth, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

You’re a little eager with your cocktail, and soon, the two of you are bringing your glasses over to the bar, grabbing your things, and heading out the door.

Seungcheol leads you to the staff parking lot, where he opens the passenger door to a massive black truck. “I’ll help you in,” he says, holding out a hand, “it’s a bit of a high step.”

You’re in cute heels, and you definitely need Seungcheol for stability as you climb into the large vehicle.

He shuts the door gently behind you before walking around the front of the truck to enter his own side.

“You cold?” he asks, putting the keys in the ignition so the truck can roar to life.

“Just a little, I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

The bouncer reaches forward, flicking a button. “I’m going to heat your seat for you.”

You can tell from his tone that he won’t take no for an answer. He wants to take care of you, wants to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.

You admire the truck while the two of you begin to drive to his apartment, and you marvel at the view. Being so much higher than in your own car, it feels very different driving around.

“Are you sure you want to come to mine? I can take you back to yours and drop you off if you’d prefer,” Seungcheol offers.

“No, I want to spend some more time with you,” you admit, taking a leap and being vulnerable.

You see Seungcheol crack a smile, but he doesn’t say anything, and the two of you just grin the whole way to his place. You look at the large building as he pulls into the underground, marveling at the modern location.

“Nice building,” you muse.

“It does the job,” Seungcheol says humbly as he parks. “Let me help you out of the truck.”

You wait patiently for him to come around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. You gently take his palm, allowing him to help you down. You love the princess treatment, and you think you could get used to this as the two of you head to the elevator.

The elevator ride up to his floor is quite, a giddiness exploding through your stomach. You’re excited about this, about what the night might have to offer you.

“So this is home,” Seungcheol says as he holds open his door for you, allowing you to step into his apartment first.

You can’t help the shock that floods over you at the entryway alone. The design choices are giving modern man, a man who is put together, a man with money, and this hadn’t necessarily been what you were expecting from Seungcheol.

“Wow, this place is nice,” you tell him, slipping off your high heels. “I didn’t know bouncers made this kind of money.”

Seungcheol laughs at your forward statement. “They don’t.” He puts his keys in the entryway decorative bowl. “I haven’t always been a bouncer, you know.”

“No? You didn’t come swinging right out of the womb?” you tease.

He releases another chuckle. “I uh, actually come from money. I own a few properties, make passive income off tenants and stuff. My dad actually owns the club we work at. I used to be a regular there when it first opened, and I saw how tough some of the bottle girls had it, dealing with VIPs and shit. Call it a quarter life crisis or something, but I figured I have enough money, enough assets, to do something that actually makes a difference, even in some small way… running businesses was always my dad’s thing anyway, not mine.”

You stare at him in shock for a few moments, then you swallow thickly to find your voice. “I mean… I always thought Choi was just a common last name, I would have never guessed you were the owners son- I never expected this kind of origin story from you.”

“No? I don’t scream spoiled rich boy to you?” Seungcheol teases.

“I guess your truck probably should have tipped me off,” you admit with a giggle. “Look at you, closeted rich boy who comes to work in jeans and hoodies every day.”

“I like to be comfortable,” Seungcheol muses, leading you into his apartment. “My home is your home, take a seat, and I’ll grab us some drinks.”

You nod gratefully, making your way to the plush sectional couch in his livingroom. It’s an open floor plan, and you turn to watch him in the kitchen. The underlights littered around the cupboards provide just the right ambiance, and you take the time to appreciate the broadness of Seungcheol’s shoulders as he opens his fridge.

“What are you feeling?” he asks. “Beer or wine?”

“Wine sounds good,” you grin. “Although, I never took you as a wine drinker.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Seungcheol responds, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge. He retrieves two glasses and a corkscrew before coming to join you on the couch. He sets the glasses on the glass coffee table, and then you watch him expertly open the bottle, taking his time.

“You might be better at my job than I am,” you muse, smiling at the man who’s so focused on the wine in his hands.

“I’ve just got practice,” he retorts with a grin. Seungcheol pores you both a drink. “Cheers,” he says, and you clink your glasses.

You take a sip, and Seugcheol watches you intently. “So, you know a little about my past,” he muses. “How about you? How’d you end up doing bottle service?”

You release a deep breath, leaning back against his couch. “That’s a good question.” You adjust a little, tucking your knees up so you can sit sideways, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “You know how I told you Crystal had a doctorate in psychology?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, sipping his wine.

“Well, I was in psychology too. Took the job to supplement my schooling, realized I was making a lot of money from tips. Crystal confirmed the salary difference and I guess I figured I’d put more energy into the club. I graduated a couple of months ago, I’m still considering going back for further schooling, but for now, I think I’m just trying to figure out what I want my life direction to be.”

“I guess having that background makes you better at bottle service,” Seungcheol points out. “You’re really good with clients, especially Seokmin on New Years eve.”

“People just want to be seen and heard,” you sigh. “In a drunk state, a lot of people can be guided with soft tones. You’re at the club to help us girls be safe, I guess I’m at the club to make people feel a little better about interacting with others… sure, there’s money involved too, but that’s capitalism for you.”

“Yeah, capitalism,” Seungcheol releases a sigh, and then a chuckle. “I definitely didn’t think our conversation tonight would steer towards politics and ideologies, but here we are.”

“Where did you think our conversation tonight would lead us?” you ask, cocking your head to the side with interest.

“I guess I just figured maybe I’d invite you back here, open a bottle of wine-”

“So the bottle of wine is for me, you don’t just keep chardonnay in your fridge!”

“Caught me,” Seungcheol laughs.

“What else were you thinking of doing to me once I came here?” you ask, leaning forward with a mischievous arch of your brow.

The bouncer laughs even harder, throwing his head back, but the chuckle turns into a deep sigh, and he meets your eyes again. “Slow down there, Doll, I’m a gentleman.”

“Sure you are,” you tease.

“Why psychology?”

“Hmm?”

“Psychology, you said you took it in school, what pushed you in that direction?”

It’s definitely a topic switcheroo, and you sit back in your seat to think about it for a few moments. “I guess… I just like people. I’m interested in them, and why they are the way that they are.”

“Do you find that working in the service industry gives you a good test group of people to watch?”

You laugh. “That sounds way too scientific for me. I think I’m just a people person.”

“But we both got bored at the party.”

“We just finished shifts. I can’t be surrounded by noise and problems and gossip all day every day,” you point out. “Besides, I wanted to get to know you better, and the club isn’t the best place for that. I think I’ve learned a lot more about you just by seeing where you live than anything else I’ve discovered this past year.”

“Do you like what you’ve learned?”

You smile, nodding. “Yeah.”

You chat for a while, then Seungcheol puts on a show in the background while the two of you take turns asking all sorts of questions. You realize, as Seungcheol drapes a blanket over you, that he truly has no intention of fucking you tonight. He’d brought you back here to get to know you better, not for some ulterior motive that involved getting his dick wet.

You feel safe with him, and as you cuddle up to his side, only half paying attention to the show on the screen, you release a breath. Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep, and you know you’re in good hands.

Six:

You wake up slowly, then all at once, sitting up abruptly with your heart lurching. The room around you is unfamiliar, and when you turn, you notice Seungcheol passed out in bed next to you. He’s still wearing his hoodie, with the hood all the way up, his hair a tangle of dark curls.

When you adjust, he stirs, blinking groggily. “Doll?”

“Sorry, I just-”

“Come here,” he grumbles, pulling you back down and to his chest.

You feel like an extremely little spoon in his embrace, and your heart is racing like a sportscar still. “What happened last night?” you ask.

“You passed out on the couch, it’s more comfortable here. I thought about getting you out of your dress, but I figured that would be creepy so we’re still wearing out clothes from last night,” he sighs. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty,” you say, looking at the clock on his bedside table.

“Shit,” he groans.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” you laugh.

“No, I just… Usually I work out at nine am.”

“Guess it’s a skip day.”

“Guess so,” Seungcheol agrees, holding you tighter.

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, and fuck, it feels good.

You could get so used to this.

“Should we wake up?” he asks.

“If you want.”

“We probably should,” Seungcheol sighs deeply. “Five more minutes.”

You have no qualms with five more minutes of cuddling, and when the time is up, Seungcheol haphazardly gets out of bed. He’s stumbly, his eyes still half closed, and God, does he look adorable.

“I want to take you for brunch,” Seungcheol says. “I’ve gotta shower quickly, do you want to change into some of my clothes?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’d fit in your clothes, with your broad shoulders and stuff,” you laugh.

“At least take a jacket, closets right here,” he disappears into the walk in, returning with a bundle of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna shower, feel free to take anything you like, I’ll be right back.”

You wait till he’s in the ensuite bathroom, the water running, before you sneak out of bed to investigate his closet.

Turns out he has more than just hoodies and jeans, and you try not to be super snoopy as you look at suits and other attire.

You find a duster jacket, and when you put it on over your dress, you like the oversized feel of it.

You go to wait on his bed, and soon, Seungcheol’s coming out of his bathroom in a new set of clothes. “Are you a brunch girl?” he asks, leading you through his apartment toward the front door.

“I can be, with the right person.”

“Now I see how you get tips, Doll, you’re a charmer.”

“Just being honest with you,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles, pulling on a hoodie to go with his jeans before he opens the front door for you to exit.

You’re both tired as you take the elevator down to his truck, and Seungcheol tells you he ‘knows a brunch place,’ so you leave the details in his capable hands.

He takes you to a small Mom and Pop style restaurant, and by the way the hostess greets him, you can tell he comes here a lot. The two of you get a secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant by the window, and Seungcheol releases a deep breath as you sit down.

“I come here most days after the gym, I’m not much of a cook back home,” Seungcheol tells you. “They always let me bring a protein shake in here, and the eggs are good.”

“I’m excited to try the food then,” you admit, looking at the menu.

The waitress comes, and you notice the way she looks at Seungcheol, you suppose you can’t blame her, you look at him the same way.

He’s cordial with her, the two of you getting drinks, and soon, you’re ordering food too. “Eggs any way, let’s do scrambled, make it four eggs, with cheese, rye toast, extra bacon and extra sausage,” Seungcheol tells her.

“Wow, only four eggs today?” The waitress cocks her brow.

“Didn’t come from the gym,” Seungcheol explains.

“You got it, boss,” the server teases.

She takes your order next, then scurries off, and Seungcheol’s gaze shifts to you. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, a lot,” you grin.

“How do you feel about dating coworkers?” he questions.

“I mean… we both know things didn’t end well with Wonwoo, so I’d sort of promised myself not to do that again, but… well, you’re not Wonwoo.”

“I’m definitely not,” Seungcheol agrees with a sad chuckle. “Do you mind if I ask you what happened with him? I mean… you strike me as someone a little more serious, someone looking for something more serious, I always kind of wondered why you tried with Wonwoo of all people.”

“That’s a good question,” you admit, leaning back in the booth. “Honestly, I think I liked the idea of him. I figured he was kind of quiet, which would mean he wasn’t a player, but I was wrong.”

Seungcheol nods, looking down at his hands. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“He thought that, since I do bottle service, I’d be willing to put out quickly, but, I’m not that kind of girl. I have to be comfortable with someone in order to have that sort of deep connection, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m not one for one-night stands either,” Seungcheol agrees.

“I��m glad we’re on the same page about this,” you grin gratefully.

“Me too.” Seugcheol reaches over the table, grabbing your hand. It’s a delicate touch, but it speaks volumes.

The two of you continue to chat, and food comes. You eat peacefully together, and brunch is ending much too quickly for your liking. The two of you get back into his truck, and Seungcheol drives you home, insisting on helping you out of his vehicle again.

You love the way he holds out his hand, helping you down onto the pavement. His free palm steadies you at the hip, and you look up at the bouncer expectantly.

He swallows thickly, his gaze shifting to your lips. “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you on New Years,” he admits, tone low.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wished you did.”

There’s a brief moment of eye contact, of Seungcheol being sure you’re okay with this, and then, he cups your cheek, leaning down to finally close the distance.

His lips are soft, his palm warm against your skin, and you have to stifle a moan at first contact. You shift closer, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest to his own.

Seungcheol grabs the small of your back, keeping you tight to his body, the kiss deepening.

There’s a honk from nearby traffic and you jump a little, pulling away while the two of you double check your surroundings.

Your heart is racing in your chest. Once again, you’d been pulled so completely into the experience of being with Seungcheol, that you’d nearly forgotten everything else going around you.

You’re still in a daze as you meet his gaze again, and Seungcheol slowly moves, pressing his forehead against your own in the most loving way possible. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises, gifting one last chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away.

You practically stumble away from him, overwhelmed as you use your key to get into your apartment lobby. You turn to wave goodbye to the bouncer who’s still watching you from his truck, intent on making sure you get home safe, as always.

Seven:

“So…” Candy grins as you both count up your money after a good night, “what’s going on with you and Seungcheol?”

“Huh?”

“I saw you two leave the Christmas party together,” she muses, pausing what she’s doing to give you her full attention. “Something definitely happened.”

“You think so?” you laugh.

“You’re both hot, so, yeah.”

It’s been five days since that night, five days of you and Seungcheol spending every day together in some capacity or another.

“I can see you grinning,” Candy teases before leaning in, her voice lowering. “How is he in bed?”

“Candy!” you laugh, shocked at her direct question.

“What?” She acts as if it’s the most normal inquiry in the world. “You guys have to have slept together by now, no?”

“For your information…” you lower your own tone, shifting closer. “We haven’t.”

“What? But you’re in the service industry! We’re all whores here!”

You can’t help but giggle at her words. “Not all of us, babes.”

“Okay, but… soon though?”

“Maybe…”

“You’re seeing him tonight, aren’t you, Doll?” Candy’s grin widens.

“Maybe…” you singsong.

“Bet you can’t help yourself anymore, huh? Tonight’s the night?” Candy pokes your arm. “That man is so big and tree-like that you could climb him, it must be hard holding out.”

You finish up your cash out with a sigh and a shake of your head. “It’s actually been nice just getting to know him.”

“And when you get married, I’m invited,” Candy declares.

“Sure you are, goodnight, Candy.”

“Only one of us is having a good night, you fucking tree climber.”

You’re still laughing as you get back into the main club area. Seungcheol is waiting for you by the doors, and together you walk to his car.

“Do you want me to take you back to yours tonight?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“I mean…” he rubs the back of his neck as he holds open the passenger door for you. “I don’t want to be presumptuous-”

“Well I like to be presumptuous,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “which is why I packed an overnight bag for your place.”

Seungcheol grins. “I love a woman who knows what she wants.”

Eight:

You feel like you’ve had a crash course in all things Seungcheol in the past five days, even so, you want to know more, so, you’ve resorted to finding cheesy lists of questions online to ask him.

He’s adorable when you suggest it, pouring you both a small glass of wine before joining you on the couch.

The two of you take turns asking questions, finding inquiries that you hadn’t thought to ask before.

“What was the first thing you noticed about me,” you grin, putting your phone down.

“Your work ethic,” Seungcheol answers. “Your smile, your… infectious personality.”

“Infectious? Okay, mister resting grumpy face,” you tease.

“I’m a bouncer, it’s part of the job,” he muses, reaching for your phone to find a question of his own. “What was your favourite part of our first date?”

“I mean, if you count coming back here after the Christmas party as our first date, it was the fact that I fell asleep so easily next to you. You just relax me, I even woke up in your bed fully clothed after which was nice-”

“Common decency,” Seungcheol interjects with a sigh.

“Still,” you insist. “If we’re talking about the brunch the next morning as our first date, I think I just sort of liked how natural it felt, as if we’d done it a thousand times. There wasn’t any food anxiety-”

“Food anxiety?”

“You know, worrying about getting food on my face or in my teeth, or you judging me on what I ordered- you just, accept me, and I knew it from the start.”

“That’s cute,” Seungcheol grins, passing you your phone back.

You skim the screen for a few seconds. “Have you told your friends about me?”

“Yeah, my friends outside of work know about you.”

“They do?” you smile, heart softening.

“They’ve known about you for a while.”

“Been crushing on your coworker for how long, Cheol?” you tease.

“Like I said… a while.”

You’re satisfied with your answer, so you pass him your phone.

“I found a question,” he says after a moment, “but if it’s not something you want to dive into, we can skip it.”

“Just go for it.”

“So… we’ve talked a bit about this before, for example, I know you’re not a one-night stand person, but other than that, why didn’t things work out with Wonwoo, or, your ex?” he asks, adjusting the question on your list ever so slightly.

“Oof.” You let out a deep breath, taking a sip of your wine.

“Like I said, we can skip it,” Seungcheol assures you.

“No, just give me some time,” you tell him, trying to center yourself. “You want the real answer? The TMI answer?”

“Always.”

“I told you I’m not into one night stands, I told you I need a deeper connection with people- at the root of it, I can’t uh… I can’t cum unless I feel safe with someone.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “So safety, and probably a lot of foreplay.”

“Exactly.”

“And most men haven’t given you that in the past?” he enquires.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then they didn’t deserve you.”

“And… how would you be different?” you ask, heart beginning to thump faster in your chest.

“Well, I’d take my time with you, for one,” Seungcheol responds, putting your phone down and shifting so he can face you. “I’d find out what you like, what you don’t like… I’d reassure you verbally, I wouldn’t pressure you, and I’d give you space to be yourself.”

“You’re already doing all of those things, which I appreciate,” you admit. “I like how slow we’ve been going.”

“Yeah, me too.” He licks his lips, and your eyes are drawn to the motion.

“Saying that… I was thinking… maybe tonight…” You can feel your skin heating in embarrassment, you’ve never had to ask a man for sex before, but it makes sense that with this man, this wonderful person who is leaving the ball in your court for all things decision-making, you have to be the one to speak up. “I was thinking maybe tonight we could go that one step further, if you want.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Seungcheol asks, cocking his head to the side to assess you.

“Yes.” You nod, forcing yourself to exude assertiveness. “I feel safe with you, and I’m ready to break my dry spell.”

“Dry spell, huh?” The bouncer grins. “I’ll make the wait worth it.”

“You promise?” you ask, moving closer to him.

“I promise.” His strong hands pull you into his lap and you straddle his waist on the couch, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck loosely.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, and then Seungcheol leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

You love how gentle he is with you, but tonight, you want more, and you quickly change the pace of the kiss when you lick at his lower lip, shyly asking for entry.

Seungcheol releases a groan, opening up to you, and you return the sound with a whimper of your own, shifting in his lap. Your chests are pressed together now, and Seungcheol’s hands move from your hips to the small of your back, massaging your body gently as you kiss.

He feels so good, and your mind goes blank as the two of you enjoy each other.

You can’t help it when you begin to move though, wiggling gently against him. You can already feel something pressing up between your legs, and it makes you more confident knowing you’ve had this sort of affect on him.

You’re both breathing heavily when Seungcheol moves his mouth to your neck, searching until he finds your sweet spot. You let out a loud moan, tilting your head back, grabbing at his shoulders tightly. He licks at your skin, gently circling the spot that has your entire body reacting.

Seungcheol releases a deep groan, his hands moving to grip your ass, and then he stands up suddenly, making you clutch onto him in shock.

“Moving to the bedroom,” he tells you, carrying you the short distance.

Seungcheol sets you gently onto his bed, looking down at you. He lets out a breath, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I was thinking maybe you’d be into a blindfold.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve heard that some girls who have anxiety in bed relax more when there’s no need for eye contact, when they can just focus on what’s feeling good.”

“Do you have a blindfold?”

“I have a sleeping mask,” Seungcheol responds, reaching into his bedside table to retrieve one. “Are you up for it?”

“We could give it a try,” you tell him, heart leaping in your chest.

“I think this needs to come off first though,” Seungcheol muses, pulling at your hoodie.

“Do what you need to do,” you say, giving him permission to take care of you in the way he sees fit.

Seungcheol joins you on the bed, and he prompts you to sit up. His hands slip under your hoodie, gently lifting it, but leaving your shirt on beneath.

He kisses you then, taking his time with you, his hands exploring your body. For the first time, his large palm grazes your breast, and you whimper against his lips, arching your back, a nonverbal communication that you want him to continue.

Seungcheol’s mouth moves to your throat again, zoning in on your sweet spot. He begins to slowly slide your shirt up, and soon, he’s discarding that too. All that’s left on your upper half is your bra, and Seungcheol grips your breasts through the padding. His lips kiss the swell of your chest, his hair teasing your jaw even as you throw your head back, breathing heavily.

“Can I take this off too?” he asks, voice low, lust-filled.

“Please.”

His fingers expertly unclasp your bra and he gently takes it off of you, tossing it onto your ever-growing pile of clothes next to the bed.

Seungcheol lays you down softly, pressing his lips against your own. He kisses you deeply and you wrap your arms around him, teasing your fingers along his strong shoulders. You tug at the fabric of his shirt and you can feel him smirk against your lips.

He sits up, reaching behind himself to grab the nape of the neck of the fabric, and then he tugs it off, revealing a chiseled body of muscle. But he’s not lean-muscled, he’s clearly got some beef to him too, and it makes Seungcheol all the more attractive.

His own eyes take in your bare torso, and then he reaches for your breast, softly cupping it. His thumb strokes past your nipple and you groan, writhing against his bed sheets.

Seungcheol leans down, kissing your throat. He takes his time as he begins to descend, and your heart is thundering with anticipation by the time he makes it to your nipple. He licks it gently, circling the pebbled bud.

You groan loudly, threading your fingers in his hair.

He grins as he continues sucking on your nipple, his free hand moving up to cup the neglected breast. You love how he’s taking his time with you, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

“Can I take your sweatpants off?” he asks.

“Yes, please.” You lift your hips to make things easier for Seungcheol, and soon, your pants are discarded, leaving you only in your panties.

“I think it’s time for the blindfold if you want,” he suggests, sitting up and reaching for it.

He passes the silky fabric to you, and you take a breath. “Let’s do it.”

“If you want to take it off for any reason, just take it off, okay?” He’s looking at you very seriously, and you know in your heart that he values your own comfort more than anything else.

“Okay.”

You slowly slip the blindfold on before relaxing back against the bed and releasing another deep breath.

Seungcheol grabs your calf gently, massaging it. His hand is warm and big, working it’s way up to your knee, then you’re thigh.

He shifts on the bed, and a moment later you feel breath against your clothed core.

You grip the bed sheets in anticipation.

Seungcheol presses a kiss to your panty-covered clit and your toes curl involuntarily. You half expect him to continue to focus on your pussy, but his lips quickly move to your inner thigh.

One of his hands is still massaging your thigh, and everything feels heightened with the blindfold on. You’re entirely focused on Seungcheol and his gentle movements, your skin electrified with sensitivity.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner knee.

You can only moan in response, mind pleasantly blank except for the slow build of pleasure that the bouncer is providing for you.

His breath ghosts past your core again and you shiver, clutching harder at the sheets.

“You look a little impatient too,” Seungcheol muses, and you can imagine his grin as he looks up at you.

“I am,” you admit, “impatient.”

“You’re being good for me so far,” he points out. “Maybe… I should finally reward you.”

“Please,” you practically beg.

“Gonna take these off of you now,” Seungcheol says, curling his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

You lift your hips again, and just like that, you’re completely bare for him.

It kind of helps that your own eyes are covered, that you’re not anxiously gaging his reaction to you-

“Still so pretty,” Seungcheol groans, and that’s all the confirmation of attraction that you need. Your pussy throbs at his words, and your skin tingles as he massages your thighs again. “Can you spread these for me, Doll?”

You’re quick to follow through with his request, his large palms helping to spread you open for him.

“Something tells me no one’s eaten you out properly in a very long time,” he muses.

“Try never.”

“You’ve never been eaten out?”

“I have, just… not properly.”

“Men these days,” Seungcheol sighs, and you giggle at his defeated tone.

Your laugh quickly turns into a whimper when Seungcheol licks a stripe of your pussy. He starts at the bottom, and makes his way to the top, circling your clit gently.

“Shit,” you groan, reaching down for him with one hand, trying to grab at his hair.

“Do you like it rough, or gentle?” he asks, guiding you by your wrist so you can take hold of his head.

“A bit of both- surprise me,” you breathe.

“You got it, Doll.”

His attention quickly returns to your core, where he begins to suck and lick. Every time you start to feel close from him playing with your clit, his tongue slips down to press into your hole. It’s a push-pull of pleasure, a teasing control of your body.

Your stomach muscles begin to clench, and you start to feel desperate.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, “I want to cum.”

“Yeah?” He’s panting against your pussy now and it feels so fucking good.

“Please?”

“I thought you said it’s hard to make you cum, I figured I’d be down here for a while.”

You pause, realizing that this might be the fastest you’ve ever come to an orgasm with a man.

“I-” You can’t find words, and you swallow thickly.

“I don’t think you have a problem cumming,” Seungcheol muses, stroking your thigh. “I think no man has put an effort into foreplay or eating you out, which is a shame.”

“You really… you don’t think anything is wrong with me?”

“There was never anything wrong with you, Doll, you should know by now that most things in this world are a man’s own fault, they just push it onto the women who are around them because they lack the emotional maturity to take accountability for their own failings.”

You let out a sad chuckle, shocked at the words that have just come out of his mouth. “You’re deeper than I ever imagined you would be, Cheol.”

“Baby, you have no clue how deep I can be, but you’re about to find out… you can cum, by the way, you don’t need my permission.”

Your heart skips a beat as his mouth returns to your pussy, and this time, he doesn’t tease around, it’s clear to him that your clit is ready to be properly stimulated, and you get the sense that Seungcheol would never deny you anything, least of all an orgasm.

He’s being rougher with your clit now, but he’s built you up to the point where you can take it. Your thighs are beginning to shake, your muscles tensing in preparation for the high that you know you’re about to hit.

You can’t help the moans slipping out of you, and there’s something so erotic about being blindfolded still- you can fully enjoy yourself, fully enjoy the masterful way Seungcheol’s mouth is working your most sensitive spot-

He sucks harshly and that’s all you need to cum, your orgasm exploding through you like fireworks. Your grip intensifies on his hair, keeping his face buried between your thighs while your entire body begins to shake with pleasure. It’s all-consuming, all-encompassing- and without a doubt, the best orgasm you’ve ever had with a man. Sure- your vibrators have been pretty amazing in the past, but fuck, there’s something about Seungcheol, something about someone else doing this to you- it gives you goosebumps as the waves of pleasure surge through you.

You’re gasping by the time you let up on his hair, and Seungcheol finally pulls away from your shaking body.

You can feel his eyes taking you in, and you slip the blindfold off, blinking up at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“So good,” you whimper, still trying to catch your breath.

“Do you want to stop now, or…”

Your gaze shifts down to the tent in his sweatpants- you can’t believe he’s willingly volunteering for blue balls- completely okay with having pleasured you and not getting a release for himself.

“No, I want to go all the way, clearly,” you retort. “Take your sweatpants off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teases, getting off the bed so he can push the black fabric down. His hard cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, and you can feel yourself practically drooling. “So… condoms?”

“I’m clean, and I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean too, but if you don’t take my word for it, I’ve got protection-”

“Cheol,” you laugh, cutting him off, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” he says, getting back onto the bed with you.

He slips between your legs, his lips meeting yours desperately. Your thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him close until his cock is dragging against your pussy with each movement.

Your hands grab at his shoulders, chests pressed together now- it’s as if you’re breathing each other in. Nothing feels awkward or forced, and it definitely doesn’t feel like your first time with him. He knows you, knows what you like, what pace suits you best-

God, you’re at a very real risk of falling head over heels for this man, but you decide that’s something to worry about later.

“Cheol,” you whimper against his lips, and that’s all you need to say to him as a cue, he reaches between your bodies, grabs the base of his cock, and guides the tip to your wet hole.

“If it hurts-” he begins to say, but you draw him closer with your legs wrapped around his hips, forcing an inch of his length inside of your aching hole before he can finish his sentence. “Shit-” He cusses, breathing heavily.

He dips his head, eyes glued to the spot where he’s sinking inside of you.

An actual, honest-to-God, non-man-made material cock hasn’t been inside of you in ages, and it feels so good to have something real dragging against your sensitive inner walls. You moan immediately, throwing your head back and shutting your eyes.

Seungcheol takes the opportunity to kiss your sweet spot, teasing you as he sheaths himself all the way to the hilt. You both gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“You good?” he pants.

“So good,” you retort with another loud moan.

Seungcheol begins to move, slowly at first, allowing you to fully adjust to the size of his cock. You can feel your body relaxing, and as it gets less tense, Seungcheol’s pace begins to increase.

His lips move from your throat to your own mouth again, and the two of you kiss desperately as he fucks you.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

“Fuck, I’m close already,” Seungcheol muses.

“Then cum?”

“No, I want to enjoy this more,” he argues. “Here, can we switch positions?”

“Yeah, how do you want me?”

“Mmm… Maybe doggy? Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod quickly, pressing one last kiss to his lips before he pulls out of you.

You quickly roll onto your knees, arching your back and presenting yourself to him.

“Fuck, you look good in every angle, don’t you, Doll?” he groans, massaging your ass.

“I live to please,” you tease, wiggling your bum gently.

“Shit.” Seungcheol pushes his cock into you again and you both groan. “Want you to rub your clit for me. I don’t want to cum until you cum again, want you squeezing my cock and gripping the bed sheets when we both tip over the edge.”

“Yes, Cheol,” you whimper, slipping your hand between your thighs to rub your sensitive bud while Seungcheol begins to fuck you.

His pace is slow, careful- and you’d bet your wages that he’s still close to the edge, that he’s actively trying to calm down to give you time to get there too.

One of his hands continues to massage your ass, a constant reminder of his gentle and caring nature. He’s not gripping hard or slapping- just massaging, and it feels amazing.

Each thrust has him hitting a spot deep inside of you, doggy is a great position for that kind of penetration, and once again, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation.

You rub your clit harder, and the two of you groan as your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

“Shit, you feel so good,” Seungcheol murmurs, both hands finding your hips as he begins to fuck you faster.

“You too,” you whimper, focusing entirely on the feeling of pleasure building in your pussy. “Can you slow down for a second?”

“Yeah.” You hear him swallow thickly, his pace decreasing. “Better?”

“Yeah, I just have to- fuck, focus on my clit for a sec.”

“Take your time,” he assures you.

You relax your body, breathing deeply as you rub your clit in hard circles. Your pussy begins to clench again and Seungcheol groans-

“Almost, almost,” you whisper- you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge- “okay, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

“Should I fuck you?” he asks, and you can hear the frazzled tone in his voice.

“Yeah, fuck me, shit, fuck me, please!” you cry out desperately, so close to the edge that you can taste it-

“You got it, Doll.”

And just like that, he’s pistoning into you. The feeling of his cock filling you up is the cherry on top of your pleasure, and you release a strangled whimper- “Cumming!”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans behind you as your pussy clamps down hard on him, squeezing him like a vice.

His thrusts momentarily falter as your core throbs around him, and then his fingers are digging into your hips. “I’m cumming too-” he tells you, and you can feel his cum beginning to fill you up.

It feels so fucking good to be filled like this again, and you gasp as you both cum together. Your hands ball up in the fabric of his bed like an anchor, your entire body consumed by pleasure for the second time tonight.

The groans leaving Seungcheol’s lips are a whole different kind of sexy, and you focus on him as you both begin to come down from your highs.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, stopping behind you, his hands smoothing up and down your back again. “You good?”

“So good,” you whimper.

“I’m going to go get you a cloth, and then we should have a shower together.”

“I’m so tired though-” you begin to argue.

“Doll, you might not be used to men taking care of you, but I want to be the person who makes you feel good, and part of that, is having a nice shower after sex, then cuddling up in bed. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Seungcheol,” you smile, “I trust you.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! we love feminist!Seungcheol in this house!

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

🔮 preview. You’ve realized in the couple of months you’ve been dating Seungcheol that with the right person, cumming can happen. It’s not that it’s necessarily easy yet, but it’s not some all-consuming, anxiety-inducing hurdle to jump over with a man who isn’t supporting you at all.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, body worship, blow job/oral, hand job, multiple positions, Cheol is impatient and needy when reader is giving, praise, dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, etc… I petnames. (hers) Doll.

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

🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“You look upset,” Vernon muses as you take a breather at the bar while waiting for cocktails to be made.

“Do I?” you sigh, closing your eyes to center yourself.

“Did uh… did something happen with Seungcheol?”

“What? God, no.” An awkward laugh tumbles from your lips. “Do I seriously look that upset?”

“You definitely look off,” Vernon points out.

“It’s just…” you exhale deeply, “you know, being in bottle service, getting hit on is part of my job, being a little flirty is how I make the most tips-”

“But you feel like that’s not being nice to Seungcheol,” your manager finishes for you, hitting the nail on the head.

“Exactly.”

“I mean…” Vernon’s gaze shifts to the bouncer by the door. “He doesn’t strike me as a jealous person.”

“And he’s not,” you’re quick to assure him, “that’s not the problem.”

“So… if he doesn’t care, then… what do the kids say these days? Make that bag? Make that money to buy that bag?”

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As I was short on time this month and unable to do a teaser, here's another shout out to some of my favourite blogs who interact with my work, I love you guys endlessly

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#seungcheol smut #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #s.coups #s.coups smut #s.coups svt

1K notes · View notes

zarameraki · 1 year ago

Text

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.”

Please cut your tongue off.

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?”

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.”

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.”

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours.

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.”

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty.

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted.

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed."

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism.

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.”

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick.

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free.

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots.

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold.

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip.

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.”

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.”

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.”

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?”

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.”

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his.

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count.

“Night-night.”

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street.

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair.

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time.

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level.

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show.

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.”

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.”

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?”

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.”

“I apologize.”

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?”

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.”

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?”

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.”

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.”

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure.

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.”

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway.

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans.

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?”

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my.

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.”

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die.

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin.

“Yes, darling?”

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him.

“No,” he said.

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?”

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day.

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me.

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant).

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.”

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?”

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.”

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.”

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?”

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses.

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss.

He surrendered instantly.

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac.

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!”

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again.

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.”

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head.

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.”

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!”

“I own the building.”

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw.

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies.

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue.

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.”

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.”

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?”

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.”

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt.

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God.

You loved him.

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered.

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“Move in with me.”

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

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