#Lee (oc) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 3 months ago

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— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out.

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall.

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed.

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat.

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly.

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows.

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space.

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough.

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second.

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning.

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath.

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.”

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke.

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched. Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it.

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?”

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him.

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling.

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control.

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate.

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red.

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

“Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased.

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

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victori-krause-writes · 7 months ago

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Immortal knight forever stuck in his armor because his valet died and came back as a ghost with little ability to move heavy objects.

do you have a character who wears plate armor... are you making sure to take advantage of the opportunities, necessity even, for human intimacy that come with how deeply impractical and difficult it is to equip without help. who's dressing your warriors??🎤🫵

#michael oc #lee oc

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areuwu · 2 months ago

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Kim Dokja’s Love!

A repost from my twitter!

For the full story, you can purchase the full pdf on my ko-fi!

🔗 https://ko-fi.com/s/efa4ec9d2

#art #fan art #my art #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #digital art #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #kdj #oldest dream #secretive plotter #joongdok #but not the joongdok you’re used to #yes that is hsy’s OC #lee jihye #orv spoilers

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021894s · 4 months ago

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THE GIRL FROM THE BAR ⭑ lhs

SYNOPSIS: After a tough workday, you visit a quiet bar to unwind, but are harassed by a persistent stranger. The charming bartender, Heeseung, steps in, defending you, sparking an unexpected conversation. As you connect, you feels your stress melt away, drawn to Heeseung's kindness and charm, setting the stage for a blossoming romance.

GENRE: romance, mutual pining

PAIRING: bartender!heeseung x f!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving)

wc: 6.5k

It's an unusually quiet Wednesday night when you push open the door of the dimly lit bar. The cool air inside is a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the summer evening. You make your way to the bar and take a seat, the events of your rough day still weighing heavily on your mind.

As you settle onto the stool, a man approaches, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, beautiful," he says, leaning in closer than you'd like.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for this. "Not happening," you reply, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone.

But he doesn't. "C'mon, don't be like that," he persists, his persistence grating on your nerves.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension. "Pretty sure no means no."

You look up to see a man standing behind the bar, his gaze fixed firmly on the man bothering you. The guy scoffs, looking the man up and down. "Oh, and what are you, her boyfriend?"

His expression remains calm, but there's a steely edge to his voice. "No, but I don't need to be to know how to respect women."

The man's bravado falters, and he mutters under his breath, "Whatever, you weren't that hot anyway," before slinking away.

He turns his attention to you, his features softening into a concerned expression. "Sorry about that. We get the average asshole in here every night."

You're momentarily stunned by his beauty, the way his dark hair frames his face, and the warmth in his eyes, his lean build that wasn’t remarkably bulky, but just enough to make your mind race at the thought of being wrapped in those arms. It takes you a second to find your voice. "N-no, it's okay. Thank you for that."

Heeseung smiles, a genuine and reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

You manage a small smile in return, feeling the tension of your day begin to melt away. "A gin and tonic, please."

"Coming right up," he says, his hands moving deftly to prepare your drink. You watch him, fascinated by the ease with which he works, the smoothness of his movements.

When he places the drink in front of you, you take a grateful sip, savoring the way the cool liquid seems to calm your frayed nerves. Heeseung leans against the counter, his gaze steady on you. "Bad day?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "You could say that. Work was a nightmare. Everything that could go wrong did."

He nods sympathetically. "I know how that feels. Sometimes it seems like the universe just has it out for you."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. "You? I can't imagine someone like you having a bad day."

He chuckles, a low, comforting sound. "Looks can be deceiving. I'm Heeseung, by the way."

"Y/N," you say, offering a small smile in return. "So, what brought you to bartending? Surely someone like you has other options."

He shrugs, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "I needed a job, and I like talking to people. Plus, it's a good way to pay the bills while I figure out what I really want to do."

You take another sip of your drink, feeling the alcohol begin to take the edge off your day. "And what do you really want to do?"

Heeseung's expression turns thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure yet. Something creative, maybe. Music or art. I just know I don't want to be stuck in a nine-to-five grind forever."

You nod in understanding, your eyes sparkling with interest. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, doing what I have to do to get by. It's nice to meet someone who dreams big."

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to take a step back and figure out what makes you happy," Heeseung says, his gaze intent on yours. "Life's too short to be miserable all the time. And you seem like someone who deserves to be happy."

You feel a warmth spread through you, not just from the drink but from the unexpected connection you feel with this charming stranger. You continue talking, sharing stories and laughter, and as the evening wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your day lifting with each passing moment.

Heeseung leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You know, I don't usually see someone as intriguing as you walk through that door. It's a nice change of pace."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can't help but smile. "Well, I'm glad I came in then”.

By the time you finish your drink, you realize you haven't felt this relaxed in a long time. "Thank you, Heeseung," you say sincerely. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "Anytime, Y/N. Sometimes all it takes is a good conversation and a little company to turn things around."

You stand up, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn't had before. "I'll definitely be back."

"I'll be here," he says, his eyes lingering on yours. "Looking forward to it."

As you walk out of the bar, your spirits lifted and your mind clearer than it had been in a long time, you can't help but think about when you'll see Heeseung again.

Over the following weeks, you find yourself returning to the bar with increasing anticipation. Each visit seems to bring you closer to Heeseung, and your interactions grow more flirtatious and comfortable.

Heeseung greets you with a wide grin. “Look who decided to make my night again.”

“Couldn’t stay away,” you reply, sliding onto the stool. “I’ll have a gin and tonic , please.”

As he mixes your drink, he leans in a little closer than before. “You know, you’re quickly becoming my favorite customer.”

“Am I now?” you tease, meeting his gaze. “Does that come with any perks?”

“Maybe,” he says with a wink. “Depends on how many more times you show up.”

Conversation always came naturally in the time you found yourself spending with Heeseung. You’d find out something new about each other every time, like how he actually lived right above the bar. Perks of being close with the owner. It didn’t surprise you, his charms and genuinely good heart making it easy for anyone to love him.

You hadn't realized how much you’d come to rely on your nightly visits to the bar until your job started to get more demanding. The project you’d been assigned had become increasingly complex, with tight deadlines and a seemingly endless series of business trips. Each day seemed to blur into the next, and your usual escape—those comforting evenings at the bar—became a rare luxury.

One particular week, a major client needed hand-holding through a difficult negotiation, which meant back-to-back meetings and a whirlwind trip to a different city. You barely had time to catch your breath, let alone think about your next visit to the bar. The days were long, filled with endless calls and emails, and the nights were spent in sterile hotel rooms, far from the familiar warmth of Heeseung's presence.

As the days turned into a week, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret each evening. You missed the easy conversation with Heeseung, the way his smile seemed to make your worries melt away, and the genuine connection that had formed between you. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he missed you even half as much as you missed him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you wrapped up the business trip and headed back home. Exhausted but relieved, you decided to head straight to the bar, your need for familiarity and comfort driving you forward.

As you walked in, the bar was just as you remembered it, but something felt different. The usual hum of conversation and clinking glasses seemed more subdued. You made your way to your usual seat, and there he was—Heeseung, looking up from the bar with a mix of surprise and relief in his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice warm and welcoming. "Long time no see. I was starting to think ran off with a secret boyfriend "

You smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "oh yeah, couldn’t wait any longer we just had to elope." you joke back “don’t worry though you can still be my lover”

He laughs, the bright smile you missed bringing a smile of your own to your lips. "tempting. you think he’d be ok with that?"

You take a deep breath, his flirty response catching you off guard despite knowing it was coming. "what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” you flash him a smile, “seriously tho, It's been... a lot. Business trips, endless meetings, demanding clients. I’ve barely had a moment to myself."

Heeseung leans on the counter, his eyes soft with sympathy. "Sounds like you could use a drink and some serious relaxation."

"You have no idea," you reply with a tired smile. "I'll have my usual, please."

As he mixes your drink, you let out a long sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax. When he sets the drink in front of you, he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stays close, his presence comforting.

"So, tell me more," he says, his tone gentle. "What’s been keeping you so busy?"

You take a sip of your drink, savoring the familiar taste. "Where do I even start? This project I’m on has been a nightmare. We had to fly out to meet with a client who needed constant reassurance. The whole team is exhausted, and I’ve been living out of a suitcase for the past week."

Heeseung listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "That sounds rough. I’m sorry you’ve had such a tough time."

"Thanks," you say, appreciating his sympathy. "I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed... you."

Heeseung’s smile is soft and genuine. "I’ve missed you too, Y/N. The place hasn’t been the same without you."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m back now. And I plan to make up for all the missed nights."

Heeseung grins. "I’ll hold you to that. You know, I was worried about you. It's not like you to disappear without a word."

"I’m sorry," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "I should have let you know what was going on."

Heeseung shakes his head. "No need to apologize. Just glad to have you back."

As the evening wears on, you finish your drink, feeling the comforting buzz of alcohol mixed with the profound exhaustion from your grueling week. Heeseung has gotten busier, a rush of customers filling the bar and demanding his attention. He glances at you frequently, concern flickering in his eyes whenever he catches sight of you.

You try to keep your eyes open, but the combination of exhaustion and the alcohol makes it increasingly difficult. You rest your head on your hand, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

From your spot at the bar, you watch Heeseung expertly handle the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Every so often, he throws a reassuring smile in your direction, but the bustle of the bar pulls him away each time he tries to come over to you.

Finally, the exhaustion becomes too much. Your head droops, and you find yourself struggling to stay awake. Just as your eyes begin to close, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder.

"Y/N," Heeseung's voice breaks through the fog of sleep. "You okay?"

You blink a few times, trying to focus on his concerned face. "Yeah, just... tired."

Heeseung's brow furrows as he takes in your weary state. "Why don’t you come upstairs and rest? You’re not driving home like this."

You hesitate, shaking your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been up longer before. I don’t want to intrude.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, his concern evident. “You’re not intruding, Y/N. I insist. You need rest, and I have a spare room. Please.”

"Come on," he says softly, guiding you to the door at the back of the bar and up the narrow staircase to his apartment.

Once inside, he leads you to the spare bedroom and helps you sit on the edge of the bed. "Stay here. I'll get you some water and something for the morning."

You nod, too tired to do much more than mumble a thank you. Heeseung disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of water, a couple of pills, and one of his soft t-shirts.

"Here," he says, handing you the shirt. "You’ll be more comfortable in this."

You change into the t-shirt, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. Heeseung returns with the water and pills, sitting beside you on the bed.

"Take these," he says gently, holding out the glass and pills. "They’ll help with the hangover."

You do as he instructs, feeling a bit more coherent now. "Thanks, Heeseung. For everything."

Heeseung smiles, his eyes soft with concern and something else you can’t quite identify. "Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m here for you."

You look around the room, taking in the minimalistic decor, the photos of Heeseung with his best friend Sunghoon, and pictures of his family. The personal touches make you feel closer to him, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

"You really have a nice place," you say softly, feeling a bit more grounded.

Heeseung chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thanks. I’m glad you think so."

As you settle into the bed, Heeseung stands, looking down at you with a mix of concern and affection. "Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You nod, already feeling the pull of sleep. "Goodnight, Heeseung."

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replies, his voice gentle as he turns off the light and quietly leaves the room.

In the darkness, you let out a deep breath, the events of the past week finally catching up to you. But despite the exhaustion, a sense of peace settles over you. Knowing Heeseung is just a room away, that he cares for you enough to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, fills you with a warmth you hadn’t realized you were missing.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the connection you’ve found with Heeseung. And maybe, just maybe, there’s something more than friendship growing between you.

The next morning, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your head surprisingly clear thanks to the water and pills Heeseung gave you last night. You stretch, feeling the comfort of his t-shirt against your skin, and remember where you are. The events of the previous evening come back in a rush, and you’re filled with a sense of gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

You decide to freshen up, so you get out of bed and make your way to the restroom. Just as you reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and you find yourself face-to-face with Heeseung, freshly showered, with only a white towel hanging low on his hips. His hair is damp, drops of water still clinging to his skin, and his well-defined torso is on full display.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re too stunned to speak, and Heeseung seems equally taken aback. His eyes widen slightly as he registers your presence, and then a slow, teasing smile spreads across his face.

"Good morning," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual. "Sleep well?"

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the sudden heat rushing to your cheeks. "Y-yes, thank you. I was just... heading to the restroom."

He steps aside, still smiling. "It's all yours."

You nod, squeezing past him, trying not to brush against him too much. Once inside the restroom, you close the door and take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. After a moment, you gather yourself and freshen up quickly.

When you step out of the restroom, Heeseung is in the kitchen, now dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair still slightly damp but styled. He’s making coffee, and the rich aroma fills the apartment.

"Feeling better?" he asks, glancing up at you with a warm smile.

You nod, walking over to join him. "Much better, thanks to you."

Heeseung pours you a cup of coffee and hands it to you. "Good. I’m glad. I didn’t want you to go through today feeling like a wreck."

You take the coffee, savoring the warmth. "You’re really kind, Heeseung. I don’t know how to thank you."

Heeseung leans against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I could help. You work so hard; you deserve to take care of yourself, too."

His words touch you deeply, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering awkwardness of the morning. "Well, you’ve definitely made a fan out of me. I don’t know what I would have done without you last night."

Heeseung chuckles. "I think you would have managed, but I’m glad I was here. Besides, I like having you around."

You both fall into an easy silence, sipping your coffee. The atmosphere is comfortable, and you feel a sense of closeness that goes beyond the usual bar conversations. It's as if the bond between you has deepened overnight.

"So," Heeseung says after a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you have any plans for today, or are you just going to recover from the week?"

You laugh softly, feeling the tension of the past days finally lifting. "I think I’ll take it easy. Maybe catch up on some sleep, watch a movie, and just relax."

Heeseung nods approvingly. "Sounds like a good plan. If you need anything, feel free to hang out here as long as you like. Mi casa es su casa."

"Thank you," you reply, genuinely touched. "I might take you up on that."

Heeseung’s smile widens. "I hope you do."

As you both finish your coffee, the morning sun streaming in through the windows, you realize that this simple act of kindness has brought you and Heeseung even closer. The easy conversation, the shared laughter, and the mutual respect all make you feel incredibly lucky to have found someone like him. Friend or someone thing more.

Heeseung’s expression brightens, and he leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about we make today fun? I know you said you wanted to relax, but maybe we can do something together. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy—just something to take your mind off work.”

You feel a flutter of excitement at his suggestion. “That sounds great. What do you have in mind?”

Heeseung grins. “Well, there’s a little café down the street that makes the best pastries. We could start there and then see where the day takes us.”

You can’t help but smile back, the prospect of spending more time with Heeseung lifting your spirits. “I’d love that.”

As you get ready to head out, you glance around his apartment once more, the personal touches making you feel even closer to him. The photos, the simple decor, everything speaks of the man you’ve come to care about.

Heeseung grabs his keys and turns to you, his smile warm and inviting. “Ready?”

You nod, feeling a sense of anticipation. “Ready.”

The café Heeseung mentioned turns out to be a charming little spot with a cozy atmosphere and an enticing display of pastries. As you walk in, the smell of freshly baked goods and brewing coffee envelops you, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

Heeseung leads you to a table by the window, and you both take a seat. He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “What do you want to try first?”

You glance at the display, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the delicious options. “Everything looks so good. Maybe we should get a few different things and share?”

Heeseung nods enthusiastically. “Good idea. I’ll get us a selection. Be right back.”

As he heads to the counter, you watch him interact with the barista, his easy charm and warmth evident in every gesture. You can’t help but feel a surge of affection for him, grateful for his presence in your life.

Heeseung returns with a tray full of assorted pastries and two steaming cups of coffee. “Hope you’re hungry,” he says, setting the tray down with a grin.

You laugh softly. “I am. This all looks amazing.”

You both dig in, sharing bites and commenting on the flavors. The conversation flows naturally, the ease between you growing with each passing moment. It feels like the perfect way to unwind after the stress of your job, and you find yourself relaxing more and more.

After you’ve sampled nearly everything on the tray, Heeseung leans back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “That was a good call. I’m stuffed.”

You nod in agreement, feeling content. “Me too. Thanks for bringing me here. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. “I’m glad. You deserve to have a break and enjoy yourself.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. “Thank you, Heeseung. For everything.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m always here for you.”

As you both finish your coffee, the café begins to fill up with the lunchtime crowd. Heeseung glances around, then back at you with a playful glint in his eye. “How about we take a walk? There’s a park nearby that’s really nice.”

You smile, feeling excited at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

You leave the café and head to the park, the sun shining brightly and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. As you walk along the winding paths, Heeseung keeps the conversation light and playful, making you laugh with his witty remarks and stories.

At one point, you come across a small pond with a few benches nearby. Heeseung leads you to one of the benches, and you both sit down, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

He turns to you, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed spending this time with you, Y/N. It’s nice to see you relax and have fun.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Heeseung. You make everything better.”

Heeseung’s eyes hold yours, a hint of something deeper flickering in their depths. “I’m glad to hear that. You mean a lot to me, Y/N.”

Your breath catches at the intensity of his gaze, and you feel a rush of emotion. “You mean a lot to me too, Heeseung.”

For a moment, the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared feelings and unspoken words. The connection between you feels stronger than ever, and you realize that what you have with Heeseung is something truly special.

Heeseung breaks the silence first, his voice soft. “I’m really glad you came into the bar that night. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

You nod, your heart full. “Me too. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

The following week, after a particularly easygoing day at work, you decide to stop by the bar for your regular visit. The familiar sight of the dimly lit interior and the hum of conversations usually bring you comfort, but tonight, something feels off.

As you walk in, your eyes immediately land on Heeseung behind the bar. Relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. Standing in front of him is a blonde girl, effortlessly beautiful, with a radiant smile. She's leaning over the counter, clearly flirting with him.

You freeze for a moment, feeling a pang of something sharp and unwelcome in your chest. Jealousy. It's a bitter taste, one you’re not used to, but there it is, gnawing at you as you watch them. The blonde girl is everything you feel you’re not—gorgeous, confident, and completely at ease.

Heeseung laughs at something she says, and it’s a sound you’ve come to cherish. But hearing it now, directed at someone else, it feels like a punch to the gut. You glance down at your work attire, feeling frumpy and out of place compared to her chic outfit.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and walk towards the bar, determined to act like everything is normal. As you approach, Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, his smile falters. He quickly recovers, but you can see the flicker of surprise and perhaps guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N!" Heeseung greets you with his usual warmth, but you can’t help but notice the way the blonde girl glances at you, her expression curious but dismissive.

"Hi, Heeseung," you reply, forcing a smile. You sit down a few seats away from the blonde, not wanting to intrude but unable to completely leave.

Heeseung shifts his attention to you, his gaze lingering as if trying to gauge your mood. "The usual?" he asks, already reaching for a glass.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel.

The blonde girl pouts a little, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "I was just telling Heeseung about this new club that opened downtown," she says, trying to pull his focus back to her. "Maybe he could come check it out with me sometime."

You feel your heart sink further at her words, but you try to keep your face neutral. Heeseung, however, surprises you. He doesn’t immediately respond to her invitation. Instead, he finishes making your drink and slides it over to you, his hand brushing yours ever so slightly.

"Here you go, Y/N," he says, his voice soft. Then he turns to the blonde girl, his smile polite but distant. "I'll think about it, but I’m pretty busy these days."

The blonde girl looks disappointed but doesn’t push further. She lingers for a few more minutes, trying to engage him in conversation, but Heeseung’s attention keeps drifting back to you. Eventually, she gets the hint and leaves, though not without casting you one last curious glance.

As soon as she’s gone, Heeseung leans across the bar, closer to you. "You okay?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.

You take a sip of your drink, the familiar taste grounding you a little. "Yeah, just a long day," you reply, managing a small smile.

Heeseung studies you for a moment, then nods. "Well, I’m here if you need to talk," he says, his voice gentle.

You nod, feeling a bit better knowing he cares. The jealousy still lingers, but seeing the way he prioritizes you over her, even subtly, helps ease some of the sting. For now, that's enough.

Over the next few minutes, the bar starts to fill up, and Heeseung gets busier, but he still finds moments to check on you, giving you reassuring smiles or quick touches on your hand whenever he passes by. It helps, but the image of the blonde girl still lingers in your mind, gnawing at your insecurities.

You watch Heeseung work, marveling at his ease and grace. He moves behind the bar with practiced efficiency, chatting with customers, mixing drinks, and flashing that charming smile. It’s clear why people are drawn to him.

“Another drink?” Heeseung asks, stopping in front of you.

“Sure,” you reply, handing him your empty glass.

As he makes your drink, you can’t help but blurt out, “She seemed nice.”

Heeseung glances at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Who? Amelia?”

“Yeah, her,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual.

“She’s a regular. Comes in every now and then,” he explains, sliding your drink over. “But I wouldn’t read too much into it. She flirts with everyone.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” he confirms, his smirk widening. “It’s just her way.”

You nod, feeling slightly better but still uneasy. “Well, she’s really pretty.”

Heeseung leans closer, lowering his voice. “So are you, Y/N.”

You blink, caught off guard by his comment. “I—what?”

“I mean it,” he says, his eyes sincere. “You’re pretty, and you’re interesting. I enjoy our conversations a lot more than random flirtations.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away, flustered. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly.

Just then, a group of rowdy customers enters the bar, and Heeseung has to attend to them. You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. It feels good to hear that from him, to know he sees you differently.

As the evening progresses, the crowd in the bar begins to thin out. Heeseung wipes down the counter, glancing at you with a playful smile. He sets down his cloth and approaches you, the energy between you two crackling with unspoken words.

“You know, Y/N,” he says, leaning closer, “I’m due for a break. Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all,” you reply, your heart racing with anticipation.

Heeseung slips around the bar and takes a seat next to you. He stretches his legs out and leans back, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him while working. His scent infiltrates your nostrils. The cologne he was wearing wasn’t remarkably strong, but it mixed with the scent of fresh laundry and a little sweat. You thought the combination worked quite well. “So, how’s your night going so far?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“It’s better now that you’re here,” you say, your voice soft and genuine.

Heeseung laughs, a sound that sends warmth through you. “Glad to hear it,” he says. “It’s nice to get a break and actually talk to you without having to rush around.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, feeling a growing confidence. “It’s good to have some uninterrupted time with you.”

Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admits. “It’s like the highlight of my Fridays.”

You smile, feeling a thrill at his words. “Really? I didn’t know I had such an effect on you.”

“You have no idea,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “I find myself thinking about you more than I probably should.”

You laugh softly, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

Heeseung shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. “You know, Y/N,” he says, his voice husky, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your breath catching.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You feel a little disappointed at his question. You’re not quite sure what you expected but if your were being honest, you were hoping he’d finally ask you out. Moving past the disappointment, you feel a sudden surge of boldness, you lean in slightly, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before a slow, delighted smile spreads across his face. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something deeper.

“It is,” you confirm, holding his gaze.

The playful banter between you intensifies, and Heeseung inches closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “you sure you can handle me baby?” he says softly, his breath mingling with yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to disappear. Heeseung’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can feel the magnetic pull between you. He inches closer, his breath mingling with yours, and you realize that this moment could change everything.

“Wanna find out?” you ask, your heart soaring with anticipation.

Heeseung takes hold of your hand, leading you through a door at the back of the bar, up a narrow staircase that creaks under your feet. The air grows warmer, and the intimacy of the space makes your pulse race.

Heeseung unlocks the door and pushes it open, revealing a cozy, modest apartment. The soft glow of a lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the simple, comfortable furnishings. It feels like a sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world fades away.

Heeseung turns to you, his expression serious but tender. “I want you to feel comfortable here,” he says. “If at any point you want to stop, just let me know.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “I trust you, Heeseung,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He smiles, a mixture of relief and desire in his eyes. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms.

The embrace is electric, and you feel the tension between you dissolve as you melt into each other. Heeseung’s lips find yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate, a promise of everything you’ve both been yearning for.

He leads you further into the apartment, his hands never leaving yours. The world outside fades away as you step into the intimacy of his space, every touch and whisper drawing you closer together.

Heeseung guides you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. The feel of his body against yours is intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his hands exploring your back, your sides, your face.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Heeseung murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

“I know the feeling,” you reply, your fingers threading through his hair.

You leaned in and kissed him again. The kiss becoming hungrier, the both of you unfraid to show how needy you were for each other.

You could feel his growing length pressing against your clothed core, the both of you letting out a small moan when you ground your hips against him.

He reached down and pulled up your skirt, slipping his fingers inside your panties and finding you wet and ready for him “shit baby you’re so wet”. You gasped as he stroked your clit, his long, slender fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to get you squirming on top of him.

“shit, seung feels so good” his fingers slide down your folds, prodding at your whole. Without warning he slips one in, that singular finger reaching places you haven’t with your own. “You’re all I’ve wanted since I met you”, Heeseung tells you, his words making you clench around him , “m-me too”. He quickens his movements inserting a second, and then a third, the coil in your lower belly snapping at his “seung im cumming” you hardly manage to get out.

“let go for me baby, show me how good I make you feel” without another word, you’re coming undone.

Desperate for more, you reach to unbutton his pants pulling out his hard dick. It was long and thick. You didnt deem it possible for a penis to be considered pretty, but that’s the only word you could think of at the sight in from of you. You couldn't wait to feel him

“like what you see?” he asks. confidence in his voice, it was a stark contrast from how gentle he was towards you on your frequent visits to the bar. It made him all the more desireable. “mhm more than like”

You wrapped your lips around his mushroom tip and sucked him deep into your mouth. His length being enveloped bya warmth that had his eyes rolling to the back do his head. “shit baby”.

You clench around nothing, the newfound nickname one you never watched to stop hearing.

He groaned and grabbed your head, running his fingers through your hair, gripping it. You could feel him getting closer to cumming, but You didn't want him to just yet. You pull away and His eyes shoot open, looking at you with confusion “are you okay?” you smirk at him, climbing up from your spot and straddling his lap “mhm i’m more than okay”. You guided his dick to your entrance, teasing the tip on your slick. You slowly sank onto his cock, a low groan escaping his throat at the newfound feeling of your tight, wet heat.

“hee” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulder at the feel of him stretching you so deliciously. “I got you pretty, s-shit you feel so good around me” He smashes his lips against yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss.

He pulls out slowly, whining at the loss, only to let out a loud moan as he slid back in, inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. He repeated the action several more times until you grew frustrated with the pace. “Hee, please go harder”. At your plea, he snaps his hips forward, faster and harder, making you cry out in pure pleasure.

He grabbed your hips and thrust up into you, harder and faster, “y/n… come on baby cum for me”. You could feel yerself getting closer to cumming. You leaned back and ground your hips against him, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“hee i’m so close”. He reached up and squeezed your tits, pinching your nipples “so close, I can feel it”. You moaned, your pussy clenching around his dick. Felling you come undone around his cock, he couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed your hips and pulled you down, cumming deep inside you. “f-fuck baby. so good”.

You pull yourself off his lap, collapsing next to him onto the couch, He joins you not a minute later, pulling you to him, your heard laying on his chest, hearing the quickened beats of his heart begin to settle down back into their normal rhythm. You lay there, panting and sweaty, for a few moments.

"I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you” He confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at his honest revelation. “yeah well, at least i’m not the only one”, you tell him, a smile spreading across your face, as you look up at him.

He grinned down at you leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. "so…" he started as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing… but I also don’t want it to be casual”.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment you heard his confession. You’d fallen for him the moment you met, and the time you spent together did nothing to but increase those feelings. “well it’s a good thing I feel the same way then”, You smile, your big brown eyes bright, filled with promise as you kissed him again. The promise that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

taglist: @chaeyunloveeee @llvrhee @yohanabanana @simplicitysbabe @woorcve @soapsters @hwhjsthetic @iisvlinaiii @jaehoonii @txnwvc @rbf-aceu @vhuteryh @shuawons @tanisha2060 @mheretoreadff @laurradoesloveu @bllueorchid @seungjiseyo @isa942572 @deobitifull @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @yjwluvs @penny44224 @yohanseyebrowmole @blockbusterhee @cha0thicpisces @soobnuuy @slut4hee @pprodsuga @ineedsomezzz

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slutforleeminho · 1 year ago

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“i wanna try something.” you breathed out between the hot and messy kisses you were giving minho, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pulling your hips down against his clothed bulge. he was already so hard, it amazed you how you could do the bare minimum and he would be fully erect in just minutes.

“whatever you want, baby.” he looked at you with so much love and admiration. that’s how he always responded to your requests, inside and outside the bedroom. ‘whatever you want, if i have it it’s yours.’ and then he’d kiss you until you forgot what it was you were even asking of him.

“you don’t even know what it is yet. how can you be so sure that you’ll want to?” you moved away from his lips to his neck, leaving little love bites as you went. he sighed when you sucked on the little sensitive spot behind his ear.

“oh baby, it isn’t in my blood to say no to you, especially when you’re sitting on top of me like this. you could tie me down to this bed right now and take me however you wanted and i wouldn’t refuse.” his brows were furrowed and eyes screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin. he looked so fucked out, which made you wonder if he was just saying those things and not actually meaning them. but you refused to pass this moment up without at least trying. so you sat straight up, separating your top half from his. his eyes shot open and searched you face for the answer as to why you stopped. “did i say something wrong? i’m sorry, love, i didn’t-”

“no, you said exactly what i wanted to hear.” you smirked down at him, waiting for him to realize what you meant and when his eyes widened and you felt his dick twitch through his thin sweatpants you knew he understood. “would you like that? for me to cuff you this bed and have my way with you,” you asked in the most innocent voice you could, a big contrast to your words. “use you however i please.” your words went straight to his throbbing cock.

“yes. fuck, baby please.” his eyes were full of lust and anticipation, his voice so quiet and submissive that you didn’t recognize this person under you at all. you didn’t respond verbally, settling on silently removing yourself from his lap and stripping him of all remaining clothing. you didn’t get naked yourself until the pair of handcuffs you kept in your bedside table were safely securing his wrists to the bed frame above his head. when you did take your clothes off you did so very slowly, taking your time just to see him squirm. Minho didn’t take his eyes off of you once, not until you were back on top of him and the tip of his pulsing cock was pressed against your entrance. he threw his head back and sighed before he swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from falling apart beneath you. at least not so soon.

you took in everything about this moment, not wanting to forget anything about it. the way the veins that ran down his arms bulged, to the way he twitched every now and then, seemingly very worked up. his chest rising and falling violently, you’ve never seen him like this, so…. so submissive and pliant. it made you want to eat him alive. you ran your hands up his torso, feeling his hot skin against the palm of your hands. a little whine escaped his lips when you grazed his nipples with your fingernails. his hips rutted up into you, resulting in his swollen tip slipping inside of you. he gasped from the sudden stimulation and raised them higher in search of more. you took both of his nipple in between your fingers and and pinched them. he winced from the pain and looked at you with confusion all over his face.

“bad boy,” his eyes widened. “ i didn’t say you could do that.” you didn’t know why you had said that and immediately regretted it. minho was always the dominant one in your relationship, the one who called the shots, the one who called you a bad girl. and that’s why you were in complete shock when he uttered a quiet “i’m sorry.” you tried to hide your surprise the best you could and continue with your switched roles. “how will you make it up to me?” he scanned the room as if the answer was written on the walls somewhere, and apparently it was cause his eyes lit up as he quickly turned his head to look at you.

“sit on my face.”

“hmmm,” you pretended to think about it. “should i?” he quickly nodded and you chuckled at his eagerness. the thought did have you clenching so you moved up his body until your thighs were on either side of his head. his eyes sparkled as he stared at your dripping sex, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. he looked starved and he just found the perfect meal, so he lifted his head in attempt to attach his lip to your core. he only made it so far before you yanked his head back by his hair. “once again, not asking for permission,” your whole brain chemistry was altered when he basically sobbed, a little tear sliding down the side of his face. “i should punish you,” you were loving this a little too much. “but that will have to wait.” he opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off by completely sitting on his mouth. he didn’t miss a beat before devouring, running his tongue through your folds before nipping and sucking harshly on your clit. his hands were balled up into fists and pulling away from the cuffs, his biceps flexing from the strain on his muscles. the veins on his arms were protruding and you couldn’t keep yourself from running a finger over them, tracing out the greenish blue lines. his skin was on fire, almost too hot for you to touch. almost.

you mindlessly started grinding down on his tongue, riding his face for your own pleasure. you weaved your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you, chasing after the euphoric feeling you knew only he could give you. and after a few more thrusts of his tongue and sucking hard on your clit one last time, you were coming. chest heaving and moaning his name like it’s the only thing you knew. once you came down and moved off of his face minho took a deep breath of air and only then you realized you almost suffocated the poor boy. “aww i’m sorry baby, could you not breathe?” you held the side of his face, wiping away your arousal from the corner of his mouth. he was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer you but that was fine you’d get an answer out of him.

you sank down on his cock completely without so much as a warning. “ah- baby wait- i wasn’t- fuck i wasn’t ready.”

“i don’t need your permission.” you ground yourself against him. he threw his head back against the pillows and arched his back.

“if you keep going i’m gonna come. so please… stop.” he pleaded, his voice was so quiet which was very unlike him, so you knew he was telling the truth, he was about to explode.

“you want me to stop?” you went from grinding to full on bouncy on him now.

“ahh fuck i’m coming!” his eyes screwed shut, bracing himself for quite possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. only for it to be ripped away. his eyes shot open. “why’d you stop?!” he looked infuriated with you, he was so close why would you take that away from him?

“you told me to stop.” you smirked at him. “why? did you want to come? i’m so, so sorry.” you were talking to him like a baby, pouting down at him like he was a child. “well i guess we can consider that your punishment.”

“uncuff me.” he demanded. “now.”

“oh baby i’d love to.” you grinned. “ but i’m not finished with you yet.”

i’m back!!!!! did you miss me?

taglist: @bangchansbae @yumiblogs @fawnpeaks

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victori-krause-writes · 1 year ago

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Corinne and Lee after the Incident™:

Corinne: *screaming, crying, throwing up.* (quite possibly might die again from the trauma alone.)

Lee: (only slightly more coherent.) ᴵˢ ᵗʰᶦˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ⁻ʷʰʰᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᶻᶻᶻᵉ'ᵈᵈʰ⁻ᵐᵉⁿˢᵗʳᵘᵃˡ ᵖᵃᶦⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ˡᶦᵏᵉᵉᵉ⁻ʰᵘᵘᵘ⁻

Teo: I don't have a menstrual cycle, but do you want me to get a hot water bottle?

Aoife: If it feels like a punch to the gut and a heart attack than yes.

Lee: ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ; ᵖˡᵘˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵘˢᶦᵒⁿ.

Lilah: Do you want soup? Will that make it better?

Lee: Suop :')

Lilah: suop :)

when you die, all the processes in your body slow down and come to a halt before starting to decay. which means if you were to revive someone from the dead, necromancer-style, you'd potentially have to kickstart their entire system back up from a state of inertia. which means it almost certainly would not be pretty. i'm talking coughing up clots of blood, nauseatingly intense migraines and muscle cramps, and all the sensory overload that would come with firing up the body's engines from frozen cold to fully functioning all guns blazing in the matter of seconds it takes to cast a resurrection spell.

#Corinne oc #Lee oc #necromancy #whump #Teo oc #Lilah oc #Aoife oc

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spacecadet-ticklesinspace · 9 months ago

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The Big L

Summary: Lila comes home to an interesting surprise.

"Illy, I'm home," Lila called out.

"Lil! Come quihick!"

The tall blond paused. "Everything okay?"

"You have to see this!"

Lila cautiously made her way toward Lilly's room. She could her the giggles in her roommate's comments, but had no idea what to expect when she rounded the corner.

Lila paused outside the door. "Illy?"

"Hurry Lil! Hehe's gonna get mehe!"

The tall blonde jumped into Lilly's room. "What---!"

When Lila finally saw her roommate, she had to chuckle.

Lilly had her ankles tied to the foot of the bed with her arms handcuffed the headboard. Her upper body was stretched out over a pillow and a crop top had her tummy on full display. Lilly wiggled her bare toes and grinned at Lila.

Meanwhile, the tall blonde leaned against the doorframe. "Well well well, what have we here?"

"Thank goodness you're here Lil!" The tiny woman pointed toward her windows. "He's trying toho gehet mehe!"

"He's trying to get you?"

"Yes!"

Lila moved closer to the bed. "From the closed bedroom window?"

"Hehe's shaking ihit!"

"Of a 5th story apartmehent?"

"Yehes!"

"My goodness, he must behe Spiderman."

Lilly shook her head.

Lila cracked a smile. "He's not?"

"Noho. I can't believe you dohont remehemember hihim!"

"Hmm. Whoever this villain is, he certainly sounds familiar. But Ihi cahan't remember his name."

"Ihit's Big L!"

"Ohhh." Lila walked two fingers along her roommate's exposed tummy. "So Big L got you ahall tied up like this?"

Lilly's giggles picked up. "Yehehes."

Lila started drawing circles around Lily's belly button. "But he doesn't seem to hahave taken anyhything."

"Eep! Yehes hehe dihid!"

"Well what dihid he tahake?"

"Myhy afternohoon!" Lilly pouted through her giggles. "Ihi havehen't beheen ahable toho focuhus ohon anyhythihing wihith him aharohound!"

"Awww." Lila was slowly spiraling closer and closer to Lilly's belly button. "Poor Illy."

More and more giggles started pouring out of Lilly's mouth. "Yohou neheed toho gehet rihid ohof hihim!"

"I doho?"

"Yehes!"

Lila dragged her hand away. "But what if Ihi don't want toho stop hihim?"

Lilly pouted. "Then yohou wohould be aha horrible roommahate!"

"Oh?" Lila placed her finger on top of her roommate's belly button. "Just thehe wohorst in the entire world?"

Lilly squeaked then dissolved into giggles. "Yehes!"

Lila's finger didn't flinch as she grinned down at her roommate. "And Ihi wouldn't want toho be that would Ihi?"

"Nohope! Yohou wahant toho behe thehe behest!"

Every so slowly, the taller blonde started to swirl her finger inside of Lilly's belly button while never breaking eye contact. "Buhut do Ihi reeeeally?"

"Ehehehee! Yehes!"

Lila purposefully kept up the slow swirl. "But what if Ihi just want toho sit here ahand go around and aharound and around this cute little button instehead?"

Lilly whined through her giggles. "Lihil! Pleheahehease!"

"Please what Illy?"

"Ticklehel mehehehe!"

"Awww, ihis that thehe only way to get rid of thehe bihig L?"

"Yehes! Plehease!"

"Awww." Immediately, Lila dropped the slow motions and started moving her finger rapidly around in Lilly's belly button. "Well if you insist."

A loud squeal left Lilly's mouth as she dissolved into laughter.

"Soooo, what spots has Big Lehel beheen bothering you wihith todahay?"

"AHALL OHOF THEM!"

"All of them?"

"YEHES!"

"Every single last one?"

"YEHEHES!"

"Frohom yohour head to yohour toes?"

"YEEEEEEHES!"

"Well then." Lila switched her hand to claw and shook it into different spots all over Lilly's tummy. "Wehe hahave a loooot of ground toho coveher."

Lilly cackled her head off as she tugged on her wrists.

"Wish you wouldn't hahave uhused my spare cuffs huhuh?"

Lilly shook her head.

"You don't?" Lila moved to wiggle a finger into each of her roommate's armpits. "Buhut nohow you can't protehect your armpihits?"

Lilly squirmed as much as she could.

"Now my fingers can wiggle and wiggle and wiggle aaaaall over these ticklish little pitties without any arms to stop them."

A snort slipped out of Lilly from all of her loud laughter.

"My goodness! We have a little piggy on our hands."

"SHUHUT *snort* UHUP!"

"Aww, are my teases too tickly for the little piggy Lee?" Lila spider her fingers up to Lilly's neck and ears instead. "Ahare you juhust soho tickly?"

"Eep!" Lilly turtled. "Yehes!"

"My my my." Lila moved closer to blow a raspberry into Lilly's neck.

"NAAAAH!"

Lila moved to blow one on the other side. "Ahare thehe berries getting yohour neheck now?"

"SQUEEEE!"

Lila moved closer to Lilly's ear to blow one there. "They just don't want to leave yohou ahalone, doho they?"

"EEEEEK!"

The taller blonde then moved back to blow one on the other ear. "They just keep getting you and getting you and getting you."

"NOEEEEEH!"

Lila pulled back to grin at the giggling face of her roommate. "You lohook lihike you're having thehe time ohof your life."

Lilly shook her head.

"You're not?"

Lilly shook her head again.

Lila wiggled one singular finger on both sets of ribs. "Then I muhust behe tickling the wrong spohots, hm?"

"Yohoure mihissihing soho manyhy."

"I am?" Another finger joined each side. "How careless of me!"

Lilly's giggles were bubbling up again.

"Yohoure soho tiny." A third finger joined each side. "Theheyre so easy to miss!"

"Nohoho! Yohoure soho mehean!"

A fourth finger on each side. "For pointing ohout thehe obvious?"

"Yehes! Soho mehean!"

When Lila's fifth fingers were raised, she immediately dug up and down Lilly's ribs. "Thehen Ihi should do ihit mohore often."

"AH! NAAAAAAH!"

"What's wrong? Ahare thehese ribs soho tihickly?"

"YEHES!"

"Awww." Lila leaned forward. "Thehen ihits going to be awful whehen Ihi snack on them!"

Lila broke back into cackles as Lila began nibbling along her ribs. She began laughing so hard that she couldn't form any words to plead with her roommate.

"Wohow." Lila pulled back. "Shehe's speechless."

"Yohou . . . Yohoure soho m-mehean!"

"I'm so meeeean?"

"Yeheah."

"Awww." Lila spidered along Lilly's hips. "But you know you love iiiit."

"Squeak!"

Lila would tickle only one hip before jumping and tickling the other one on it's own. "If I wehere nihice, yohou wouldn't want me to tickle yohou ahas often."

Lilly kept twitching her hips side to side as Lila tickled back and forth.

The taller blonde then spidered down her hips to her thighs and knees. "I hope I haven't missed ahanyhy ohother spooots. You're so teeny tiny itty-bitty."

Lilly giggled. "Noho! Ihim ahaverahage!"

"But Ihi cahan pick you uhup over one shouldeher."

"Behecauhause yohoure aha behemohoth!"

"Rude!" Lila spidered under her knees. "Ahand after I took on Bihig Lehel for you."

"Squee! Tohoo bahad!"

The taller blonde lifted her hands and made two pincers. "Guess ihits tihime for the toesies buhug."

Lilly's eyes widened as Lila's pincers moved down to her feet.

"I'm a little toesie bug, tohoesie buhug, toesie bug!"

"Noho! No no no!"

"I'm a little toesie bug."

"Nohot myhy tohohoes!"

"And I!"

"Plehease!

"Love!"

"Lihil!"

Immediately, the taller blonde's pincers began attacking Lilly's toes. "Toesies!"

"NAAAAH!"

"Omnomnomnom! Mr. Toesie bug lohoves nihibblihing on ticklish tohoesihies!"

"AHHH! TOESIE BUHUG!"

"Hmmm." Lila moved to spider around Lilly's foot. "How dohoes thehe rest of your foot tahaste?"

Lilly squealed and tugged on her feet as she cackled at the top of her lungs. Her toes curled as she tried to fight the ticklish feeling.

Lila paused as she let Lilly catch her breath. "Ihis Bihig Lehel gone?"

"Whehew! Mahaybe."

The taller blonde sat down next to her. "Wow. Hehe's in a stubborn mohood tonihight."

"Yeheah! Juhust horrihible!"

"Oh my goodness." Lila leaned forward. "What to do? What to do?"

"Eek!"

Lila paused an inch above Lilly's tummy.

"Lihil!"

The taller blonde took a deep breath.

"Eep!"

Lila placed her lips on Lilly's tummy.

"Ah! Juhust doho ihit!"

However, instead of blowing a raspberry, Lila blew a stream of air across her belly and belly button.

"NahahAHHHH!"

Then the taller blonde took another deep breath and placed her lips back on Lilly's tummy.

"Dohont yohou dahare!"

And then Lila blew another stream of air across Lilly's tummy and belly button.

"NaaaaAAAAAH! JERK!"

"Whaaaat?" The taller blonde started drawing figure eights with her finger on Lilly's tummy. "I thohought Ihi wahas being nicer."

The smaller woman whined.

"Aww, does the itty-bitty Lee want berries blown all over heher bellyhy?"

"Yehes!"

"But whyyyy?"

"Becahause ihit ticklehels soho muhuch whehen yohou dohont!"

Lila leaned forward. "It doeeees?"

"Yeheeee!

The taller blonde leaned a little closer. "Ahare yohou reeeeallyhy suhure?"

"YeheEEES! NAAAAAH!"

While Lilly had been distracted by the teasing, Lila had pulled in a big deep breath and blew a bunch of raspberries across Lilly's tummy.

"NAAAhaha! PleheEEEEASE! Lihil!"

"I thohought yohou wanted thehe berrihies?"

Lilly giggled up at Lila.

Lila smirked. "Yohou knohow, I have the keys to your little bonds."

Lilly's eyes widened.

The taller blonde poked her fingers up the smaller woman's tummy. "I cooooould keep you hehere aaaall night."

Lilly grinned. "Yohou wouldnhn't!"

Lila leaned even closer. "Oh, but I would."

Lilly whined. "Lihil!'

"Ahaw, sillyhy Ihilly."

All of a sudden, the smaller woman's stomach growled.

Lila pulled back. "Have you eaten today!"

Lilly blushed. "Ohoops!"

The taller blonde immediately got her out of the bonds. "Yeah no, come ohon."

"Awwww!"

"No aw about it!" Lila pulled her to the kitchen. "Tickles are not a nutritional substitute!"

Ever the dramatic, Lilly placed a hand to her forehead. "Buhut Ihi would die without thehem!"

Lila rolled her eyes as she playfully nudged Lilly toward the kitchen bar. "I'm making Cajun Chicken Alfredo."

Lilly perked up. "Oo! With garlic bread?"

"Ihif wehe have the ingredihients."

"Yes!" The smaller woman immediately checked the fridge.

Lila shook her head fondly. She didn't know what she'd do without that little roomie of hers, but she knew it would be a pretty boring life.

#lee oc #ler oc #ticklefic

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acidinduceddaydreams · 6 months ago

Text

Skz ot8 corrupting reader౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

Synopsis: ot8 corrupting innocent crybaby reader slowly but surely.

Warnings: corruption kink; innocent reader being bullied in some parts by the members, dacryphilia but not really , deep throating of ice cream. Mean skz. Reader is not a child. She is an adult!!!

Part 2

Innocent reader who doesn’t like horror movies but watches it anyway because Hannie told her to.

The movie is not even halfway and your screams are already prevalent. You try to muffle your cries against Jeongin’s arm but he isn’t having it. “Stop crying you’re ruining my shirt.”

Seungmin making fun of you for crying and how you made Chan change the movie because you’re too scared. “Can you shut up now. Your whimpers are so fucking annoying.”

Minho who bullies you once you’re settled again into crying more because it secretly or not so secretly turns them on. “Wow! The crybaby finally shut up.” “Oh don’t get upset, you can’t help it if you’re a loser and a crybaby it’s just who you are.”

Felix who acts as if he’s calming you down from the taunting of your other friends when in reality he’s just trying to make it worse. His voice is low and condescending. “Leave the poor thing alone you guys.” “She’s just a baby trying to act like an adult, but don’t worry baby you don’t have to pretend with us.”

Hyunjin who buys ice cream for everyone on a hot summer day. Everyone else’s is in a cup or arch-shaped but yours just happens to be long and phallic shaped. Not that you even notice or would know what that means.

Changbin who ‘accidentally’ nudges your arm just a little as he goes to sit next to Hyunjin causing you to choke on the ice cream and let out a gagging sound along with coughing and glassy eyes having never had something go that deep before. “Sorry, pretty my arm slipped.”

Han who ‘helps’ you pick out clothing to wear when you go out with them. You’re standing in your closet picking out things you think he’d like. He tells you that he doesn’t mind you changing in front of him and that all friends do it. Not that you need much convincing you’re just too busy trying to look pretty. “Wow honey. You look wonderful in that sundress. Though I think it’s too long.”

Chan who has a hand on you wherever you go. Walking in a crowd? He’s holding your hand. Talking to someone? His hand on your waistline should give them the hint. You’re in your head about something? It’s ‘normal’ for friends to wrap their hands around each other’s throat to ground them.

Minho who heard from Hannie that you wear hello kitty, my melody and other childish underwear. Laughing as he mocks you. “Wow Y/n how old are you, huh?” “Do you want a pacifier while you’re at it.” He can’t help himself. Your voice trying to defend yourself is barely audible only coming out in whimpers. “Wow, kitten you do you know you have to grow up someday, right?”

Seungmin tugging on your two plaits whenever he wants. “Ow Minnie why’d you do that?” “Sorry puppy it’s a force of habit.”

Jeongin who puts a finger in your mouth to soothe you after all the tears. You’ve never needed to have something to stop you from crying but now it’s automatic. As soon as the tears fall you’re begging for his fingers or thumb. “you want my fingers in your mouth. Wow sweetheart you’re so silly. Do you know they have pacifiers for this exact situation? Maybe I should get you one to really shut you up hmm.” “No, you don’t want one? Well then that means you’ll just have to learn to stop talking back or you won’t even get my fingers.”

All of the boys who make fun of you for closing your eyes when a somewhat steamy scene comes on in the movie they purposefully picked but you don’t have to know that. Sitting on Minho’s lap covering your eyes does something to them. The scenes usually aren’t even that sexual. It’s usually just the two main characters kissing. Seungmin is obviously the first one to pipe up saying between laughs “Wow Y/n they’re just kissing.” “Yeah” Felix’s adds. “Would you like us to show you how so you’re not shy next time.”

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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

Text

Beneath the Quirky Petals

Lee Chaeyoung x male reader

word count: 13K

You're at home, sinking into the leather couch while your brain is still trying to detach from the numbers, charts, and spreadsheets that the finance department throws at you like a machine gun loaded with pure bureaucracy.

A toast to surviving another week.

You pop open a beer can with the most satisfying sound you've heard all day. Friday night. No charts. No reports. No one-

The doorbell rings.

You freeze, the beer halfway to your lips. Who the hell shows up at your house on a Friday night? The delivery guy already came by, and your Chinese food is in the kitchen.

Maybe it's a neighbor?

Curious, but low on patience, you open the door. And that's when reality seems to collapse, because what you see doesn't make any sense. It's Lee Chaeyoung, popularly known as the weird girl from the finance department. And she's standing right there in front of you, holding a ridiculously colorful bouquet of flowers and a... box of chocolates?

"Surprise!" she exclaims, a big smile on her face.

Your brain blue-screens.

Surprise? That's the word she chose? Because you can think of several others: confusion, fear, panic - all of which seem way more appropriate. But you keep your composure, at least on the surface.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to sound like a malfunctioning robot. It's 8 PM on a Friday, and this is definitely not on your schedule.

She smiles again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I came to confess my feelings!"

Ah, of course, she came to confess her feelings.

Because that's totally what you do to a coworker you've barely exchanged more than "good morning" or discusses work formalities. You feel your mouth open and close, desperately trying to summon words that make sense.

You fail miserably.

She doesn’t wait for rational responses. She simply walks in, as if your house is hers, handing you the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates like she’s offering you a promotion to Love of My Life™.

You look at the flowers, then at the chocolates, then at her. “What’s all this?” The question slips out before you can filter it.

“It’s for you, of course!” she says with a creepy sweetness. “Do you like it?”

“Err, sure…” you reply, with a smile more fake than your boss’s expense reports. You set everything down on a table, your hand discreetly reaching for your phone in your pocket. “Loved it…”

As she continues to ramble on about how you two have so much to talk about, you open one of the chat groups (the one reserved only for questionable banter) with the most evil creatures you know - your coworkers.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard:

"HELP!! LEE CHAEYOUNG IS AT MY HOUSE WITH FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE!!!! SOS!!"

“I already know everything,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

You freeze. You think your ears must be playing tricks on you. "Know everything about what?"

She giggles, the lightest, most annoyingly satisfied laugh you've ever heard. "You don’t have to hide anymore, silly, the feeling is mutual."

Right.

This.

Is.

Happening.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and try again, like you're talking to a very confused child. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chaeyoung."

She raises an eyebrow, as if you're the weird one here. "The guys in the department told me everything. I know you’re in love with me."

And at that exact moment, your phone vibrates with the fury of a thousand demons. You glance at the group chat. Messages are pouring in, a flurry of "lol" and laughing emojis. And that's when the truth stabs into your brain like a dagger: they set you up.

The bastards planned this.

“Who told you that?” Your voice comes out hoarse, like you've swallowed a cactus.

“Hmm, pretty much everyone in the finance department, and a few people from HR.”

You gulp. And that’s the closest you’ve ever come to a heart attack.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with unshakable sweetness. “I... didn't expect you of all people to fall for me.” She says this with a tone of shyness that’s supposed to melt hearts. But yours, right now, is pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your chest and run for the door.

You’re about to say something - anything to get out of this mess - when she continues. “I guess now I can be honest and say I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I joined the company.” She brushes her hair aside, clearly rehearsing what’s coming next. “You were one of the few people who tried to help me fit in. I’m really grateful for that.”

That last part hits you like a metal bar to the face. Because, yeah, you helped her out. But only because... well, it’s what you do. You were kind to her like you would’ve been to any other lost newbie in the corporate jungle. But now that you think about it, you realize the only person she's remotely close to at the company is you.

And, worth noting, looking at Chaeyoung now, outside of work, she seems… different. Even… put together. And pretty. Not the same clumsy Chaeyoung you bump into at the printer every day.

"Hmm... Want a beer?" you ask, because when your brain’s about to explode, your body decides beer is the solution to absolutely everything.

“Oh, sure, I love beer,” she replies, sitting down on the couch and placing her little purse on the coffee table.

You head to the kitchen, still dazed. You grab another beer. The sound of the can opening feels like a muffled cry for help. When you return to the living room, there she is, sitting peacefully, looking around. “Your place is really nice,” she comments. “So neat. I figured it would be, it matches your personality.”

You hand her the beer and sit down, wishing the couch would swallow you whole. Maybe, if you sit still enough, the universe will decide none of this is happening, and you’ll be back to a Friday night of just beer and silence. But no. Chaeyoung is there, on your couch, and she brought you a bouquet of flowers that you have no idea what to do with (do you need to water those?).

“So…” you try to start, but your mind is emptier than a ghost town. "What exactly do you think we’re talking about here?"

She smiles, that shy smile that makes you want to look anywhere but at her face. "I already said. The guys in the finance department told me you're in love with me."

You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, but you keep smiling. It’s the smile of a man walking straight toward a cliff, knowing it’s there. "Oh, they said that, did they?"

"Yeah," she nods eagerly. "It wasn’t just one person, practically all your friends confirmed it. They said you were just too shy to confess."

Shy.

The word floats through your mind like a bad joke.

"Look," you say, choosing your words like you're defusing a bomb, "this seems like a huge misunderstanding."

She blushes, her cheeks turning pink as if just talking about feelings is enough to trigger a nervous breakdown. "I... I know it seems strange. I mean, I never expected you to fall for me." She looks down, nervously fiddling with her hair. "You're the type of guy that all the girls in the department notice, you know? I thought... why me?"

“Why you?” you repeat, stunned. She’s talking like you’re some kind of soap opera heartthrob, when in reality most of your days are spent trying to figure out whether it’s time to replace the printer or if it’s just out of toner.

She smiles again, a small, shy smile, almost as if she’s apologizing for existing. "It’s just... I’m not like the other girls in the office, right? Saerom is so confident. And Jisun, she’s always so put together, knows how to talk to everyone. I'm not like that."

You don’t disagree.

Because, well, she is weird. But, for some reason, that weirdness now feels a lot less annoying than it does at the office. Maybe it’s the fact that, outside the corporate setting, she actually made an effort. Her hair is down, styled, without the usual scrunchies. The dress is simple, but... it works.

“I never thought someone like you…” she continues, clearly uncomfortable, “could like someone like me."

You almost laugh, because the irony of all this is that you’re not in love. But now, suddenly, the idea of someone like you falling for her doesn’t seem as absurd as it did twenty minutes ago.

She actually seems like a pretty dateable girl at this point.

“Chaeyoung,” you begin, and it comes out softer than you expected. "I’m just a regular guy. I’m not exactly the Prince Charming they’ve made me out to be."

"I know, but… you were the only one who was kind to me from the start. You always helped me with the reports, even when I didn’t know what I was doing. And I… well, I like you too."

And that’s when you feel a slight tightening in your chest. Because, unlike everything else, this feels genuine. It’s not your coworkers' prank, not the misunderstanding about you being in love. It’s Chaeyoung, the girl everyone calls weird, admitting she likes you. And somehow, that makes you want to rethink your whole life. You never participated in the jokes about her, and when they threw the ball your way, you just stayed silent. But you also never cared enough to do anything about it. In a way, you were complicit, and now, for some reason, it’s making you feel bad.

“I’m still so impressed with your house. It’s exactly how I imagined it would be, you know? Neat, elegant. It suits you.”

“Suits me?” You chuckle, because the idea that your house suits you means you must be the most generic person in the world.

“Yes!” she replies, excited. “You’re always so organized at work, always knowing what to do. I kind of… admire that… in a man.”

Now you’re treading dangerous ground, and you internally question if maybe you’ve been a bit too nice.

As she looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, you realize you’re back at square one. What do you say now? How do you break the fantasy she’s built without breaking her along with it? A headache starts to form, not one that builds slowly, but one that hits you like a megaphone blast. You’re trying to pretend nothing’s out of control.

But it is.

“How did you get my address, Chaeyoung?” you ask, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, it was your friend, the one with the loud laugh,” she answers innocently.

Of course. Him. The idiot with the laugh that sounds like a train on fire. Internally, you promise that, at the next happy hour, you’re going to strangle him with a phone charger cable.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your words very, very carefully. “Look, Chaeyoung... I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here-”

“It’s okay! You don’t have to run from what you’re feeling.”

You blink a few times, trying to process what she just said. “I… what?”

She looks even more excited now, like she’s at an amusement park and you’re the main attraction. “I’m so happy about all of this. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud, but you’re going to be my first boyfriend!”

That catches you off guard in a way even the cruelest budget spreadsheets couldn’t. “First?” you repeat, the word coming out more like a confused echo.

She nods, looking a bit shy now. “Yeah... I’ve never dated before. Guys never paid attention to me, you know? From high school till now.” She looks away, sadness creeping into her voice like a shadow.

Damn. That hits you hard. A part of you feels a pang in your chest. You try to be kind – as always.

“Hey, Chae, you look... really nice today.”

Her face lights up, practically filling the room with her smile. “Really? You like it? And my dress, do you like it too?!” She stands up from the couch and does an awkward little twirl, like she’s showing off a wedding gown.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, not thinking much. “It’s lovely.”

She stares at you, her eyes shining like two stars about to collide. “I know you've probably heard this a lot, but you're so beautiful. The most handsome man in the office!”

You swallow hard again, feeling your throat dry as a desert. “I… Look, I’m not sure what to do… I didn’t have plans for tonight.”

“This is perfect! Just being with you is enough.”

Now, the desperation starts crawling down your spine, spiraling. You’re in a pit, and the more you move, the deeper you sink. The phone in your pocket keeps vibrating with your friends laughing virtually.

How do you get out of this?

“Are you really staying here?” you ask, awkwardly, unsure if you even want the answer.

She smiles, content. “Of course! We’re getting to know each other better now, aren’t we? That’s important for... our future together.”

Suddenly, she lifts her nose and sniffs the air like a puppy smelling steak. “What’s that? It smells so good.”

You feel your last thread of hope shatter. “Oh, that’s... Chinese food. I was thinking of eating it later.”

Her eyes light up again. “I love Chinese food!”

You look at the floor, the flowers, anything but her, and finally surrender to the tide that’s drowning you. “Err, wanna… share?”

She smiles, genuinely happy, as if this is the night of her dreams.

And you, well, you’re going to need more beer.

As you drag yourself to the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation piling on your back. The microwave beeps, and all you can think is how it’s mirroring your brain: spinning in circles, overheating, and on the verge of exploding. Suddenly, Chaeyoung’s voice cuts through the silence from the living room, terribly cheerful, of course:

“I remember my first week at the company! Gosh, I was so lost, but you were amazing. Remember? When I stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure it out? And then you showed me the right button! It was so obvious after you explained it! You’re so good with that kind of thing.”

You’re tapping your chopsticks on the counter while glancing at your phone, checking the friends - or traitors - group. It’s chaos. A sea of messages. “HAHAHA dude, you’re FUCKED,” “new couple in the department?” and the inevitable flood of “congrats!” You type quickly: "THIS WILL HAVE REVENGE!!"

Chaeyoung continues, her voice full of admiration. “And that day when you helped me set up the emails, remember? I was SO confused with the passwords, and you explained it so patiently. You have this way of speaking that… it’s so calming, you know? Like you have everything under control all the time. It’s adorable.”

Adorable. That word echoes in your mind as you pretend to focus on the chow mein, trying to ignore the fact that your friends are turning the group chat into a stand-up comedy show at your expense. The phone buzzes again. “GO GET LUCKY, CHOSEN ONE” flashes on the screen, and you sigh, tapping your chopsticks on the kitchen counter. “All of you, DIE!”

“Oh, and I’ll never forget when you helped me with that mess at the copier!” Chaeyoung now seems to be narrating the greatest hits of your life, as if every moment was a milestone of heroic kindness. “You just pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the machine stopped choking on the paper. I was so impressed! And that serious look you had, like you knew exactly what you were doing… it’s so… cute!”

Cute. Of course.

Now, besides being the victim of a coldly calculated prank, you’re cute. While the rice continues to warm up, you open your phone again. Your friends are losing their minds laughing. “She’s already at your place, bro, it’s happening!” “Go for it with the weird girl!!” and “Is her dress sexy? Lol”. Your fingers fly across the keyboard: Seriously, FUCK YOU ALL!!!

Chaeyoung is still in the living room, completely oblivious to the mental storm you’re going through. “You’re always so… grounded, you know? Even when we’re in the middle of crazy deadlines, you never seem stressed. I find that amazing. Sometimes I watch you at your desk, the way you press the keys on your keyboard, so focused... It’s like you have a superpower!” She laughs at herself, that light, childish laugh that makes you feel like you’re in a rom-com scene – one you never wanted to be in.

You open the microwave, steam rising in slow waves. “You know, Chaeyoung? I just… do what everyone does at work. There’s nothing special about it,” you shout from the kitchen, trying to bring some reality to the conversation.

“Oh, but you are special!” Her voice returns with renewed enthusiasm, as if she’d been waiting for that cue. “Most people don’t even notice, but I see how much you care about the details. Like when you organize your desk! I love how your papers are always stacked neatly, the post-its all lined up. And that basic black mousepad? It’s so you.”

You rub your face, trying to process how your life came to this: your silent obsession with organization becoming the object of romantic fascination. All you wanted was to eat Chinese food in peace and maybe watch something mindless on TV.

The phone buzzes again, and you glance quickly. A meme of a wedding ring with the caption “Tonight’s the night.” You grit your teeth, but before you can respond, Chaeyoung appears in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

“Did you know you’re the only one who always says good morning to everyone when you come into the office?” She walks closer, holding a pillow like it’s some emotional prop. “I noticed that since day one. It’s the kind of thing that makes a big difference, you know? Little gestures like that… they mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah… I just try to be polite.”

She smiles as if it’s the greatest declaration of love ever made. You head back to the living room, placing the food on the coffee table, seeing no other way out, and murmur a final silent prayer: that fate, karma, or whoever is in charge might have mercy on your soul.

—

Somehow, you’re now sitting in your armchair, watching Babe on streaming. You’re not entirely sure how you got here. One minute, you were sharing Chinese food with a slightly unhinged coworker, and the next, she was excitedly explaining how this was her absolute favorite movie ever.

And, of course, Babe is now playing on your TV, while Chaeyoung sits on your couch, completely at home, narrating the movie as if you were blind and deaf.

"This part is so cute!" she exclaims as Babe tries to herd the sheep. "Look how determined he is! I love how he never gives up, you know? He reminds me of myself!"

You barely had time to grab a second beer before realizing, yeah, this is your night now: you, Chaeyoung, Babe, and the creeping feeling that reality is unraveling around you. With each new scene, she adds commentary, providing deep analysis of the pig’s nearly tragic determination.

"I related so much to Babe because he’s small and out of place, you know? Kind of like me at the company. No one expected anything from me. But I also want to herd my sheep someday!"

You blink slowly. "Uh… yeah, I can see the comparison."

"Right?" She’s thrilled, completely absorbed in the movie and her esoteric life metaphors. The movie plays on, and you try to focus on the pig, hoping he'll herd some clarity into your own situation.

Then, without warning, she gives you that look again - the dangerous one you don’t dare hold for too long. "Hey, why are you sitting over there in the armchair? Come sit on the couch."

You freeze for a second. The armchair, now that you think about it, feels like your last bastion of emotional safety. The couch is the battlefield, and she’s calling you to the front lines. "Oh, no, I’m fine here," you reply, trying to be polite but sounding like someone who just saw a ghost.

"Seriously? Come on, the couch is way comfier. It’ll be fun, we can watch together!"

The word together echoes in your mind like the sound of a giant hammer about to fall. You pretend to think about it for a moment, as if you still had a choice. "Alright, sure," you finally say, getting up with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the electric chair.

You sit on the farthest corner of the couch, as far from her as you can without being rude. Okay, you think, this isn’t so bad. But then, little by little, she starts edging closer. First, she leans slightly toward the middle. Then, without ceremony, she practically leaps from one cushion to the next.

The proximity is becoming undeniable. You can almost feel the warmth of her beside you. And, of course, she keeps narrating the movie as if nothing else in the world mattered but Babe and his adventures.

"This is the part where Maa dies mutilated by dogs! I always cry here," she says with a sad expression.

Meanwhile, you feel a tear forming inside - not for the Maa, but for the situation that spiraled out of control long ago.

She glances at you, and you try to focus on the movie, but now it’s impossible to ignore how close she is. Until, suddenly, she leans her head on your shoulder. Gently at first, testing your reaction. And you, with the grace of a wooden post, sit there frozen, trying not to look like a department store mannequin.

"This is so nice, isn’t it?" she murmurs, her eyes still on the screen, but her voice soft, almost too sweet.

"Yeah… the pig. It’s… cool." You can’t even form coherent sentences anymore, feeling like the trap has fully closed around you. She’s there, nestled against you, and you’re more trapped than ever in this bizarre night.

Hours pass, and the movie finally ends with Babe herding his sheep like an unlikely hero. Chaeyoung jumps up from the couch, clapping her hands like she’s in a theater. Her eyes are shining, completely caught up in the emotion of the moment.

"Bravo! Best movie ever!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. You, sitting on the couch, can’t help but chuckle. She really is a character.

Who claps while watching a streaming movie at home?

She turns to you, full of expectation. "So? What did you think? Isn’t it just wonderful?"

You allow yourself to relax a little, shrugging playfully. "It’s a fun movie, for sure… But, so, what are we watching tomorrow? Garfield?"

You threw the comment out there with a hint of sarcasm, certain she’d catch the joke. But, as with everything tonight, Chaeyoung takes it the wrong way.

"Garfield?! I love Garfield!" she exclaims with an enthusiasm you’d never associate with a conversation about Garfield. "We’re totally watching that tomorrow! I knew we had so much in common!" Before you can even open your mouth to clarify, she’s already hugging you with such excitement that you almost trip. "We were made for each other!" she murmurs, her face pressed against your chest.

And there you are, being squeezed by someone’s unshakeable devotion, who clearly didn’t catch the joke. Worse, you are starting to feel unwell. Not for the hug - though that’s plenty awkward - but because, well, you don’t want to hurt her. Chaeyoung may be odd, but she doesn’t deserve to have her heart shattered over a cruel prank by your coworkers.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable. "So, Chaeyoung… it’s getting kinda late, right? Maybe you should… head home."

She releases the hug, stepping back a little, looking genuinely sad. "Wow, you’re right. I didn’t even notice how late it was," she says, biting her lip, clearly regretful about leaving.

You mutter something almost inaudible, like, "Me neither..." which, let’s be honest, could be interpreted in several ways. Before things can get any more awkward, you grab your phone and call her an Uber. While you wait in a slightly tense silence, Chaeyoung picks up the box of chocolates and offers you one.

"This one’s special. Try it," she says, smiling.

You take it, because, well, what else can you do at this point? You bite into the chocolate, and to your surprise: it’s incredible! The dark chocolate and creamy filling are like a gourmet explosion in your mouth.

"This is delicious!" you admit, genuinely impressed.

Chaeyoung’s eyes light up even more. "I made it myself!"

You really didn’t expect that. "Really? Wow, it’s perfect."

She beams, clearly flattered, and suddenly seems even prouder. "Now that we’re together, you’re going to have these every day! I’ll make you sweets all the time.”

You swallow hard, not because of the chocolate, but because, honestly, you didn't expect this level of commitment in any relationship, let alone one that started with a huge misunderstanding.

But before you can respond, the Uber driver honks outside.

Chaeyoung stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave, but suddenly stops at the door and turns to you with an almost childlike expression of expectation. "Wait, aren’t you going to kiss me?"

You're standing there, in your living room, and the world seems to have frozen at the exact moment Chaeyoung says something you never thought you'd hear.

The air gets heavy, as if someone suddenly turned off gravity. You look at her, blinking, almost waiting for it to be a joke, but the gleam in her eyes... that gleam of absolute expectation... suggests it’s not. What do you do now? Jumping out the window doesn’t seem practical, and no convincing excuse comes to mind, leaving you with only one option:

"Ah... yeah, sure..." you begin, but the words betray you. Your brain is already short-circuiting. You think about saying it's not a good idea, that this is all a mistake, that maybe she should think a bit more before asking questions that make you want to vanish. But before anything sensible comes out of your mouth, you sigh and slowly approach Chaeyoung. The sparkle in her eyes grows brighter, almost as if it's about to explode from sheer excitement. Your feet feel like they weigh a ton, and your mind is screaming a chorus of don’t do this, while your body, for some unfathomable reason, propels you forward.

You lean in, and for a second of pure eternity, you’re both just inches apart. Chaeyoung is still looking at you like she's waiting for you to recite some kind of vow. There’s no escaping this now.

Then, before your mind can stop you, you kiss her.

At first, it’s like kissing a wax statue. She’s completely still, tense, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with her own lips. And for a terrible moment, you think you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. But then, slowly, she begins to relax. You feel her body soften, and the kiss, which initially felt so mechanical, starts turning into something… different.

Her hand unexpectedly rises to touch your arm, and you feel the warmth of her touch seep through your skin like static electricity. Without even realizing it, your own hand has slid to her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her perfume - a mix of something sweet and floral, maybe jasmine, maybe some kind of unknown magic - floods your senses, and for a moment, as absurd as it seems, the outside world completely disappears.

Chaeyoung is the first to pull away, her eyes still wide, as if she’s just reached nirvana. "That... that was amazing!" she says breathlessly, her voice full of awe.

You swallow. "Yeah... it was..." You try to find words, but your mind is still in a total void.

She smiles, so sweetly it’s almost disconcerting. "Did you know that was my first kiss?"

You freeze, the words first kiss echoing in your head like someone rang a giant bell beside you.

First kiss.

You just gave her her first kiss. And now, guilt starts flooding you. Because whatever this is, whatever is happening between you two, it definitely shouldn’t have gone this far.

And yet, here you are, with Chaeyoung still smiling, radiant like a ray of sunshine.

Before you can think of anything to say, the Uber’s horn blares outside again.

"Oh! The Uber!" she says, hurrying to the door, but before she leaves, she turns one last time with that spark in her eyes that makes you want to run to the other side of town. "I’ll come earlier tomorrow, okay? That way we can spend more time together! Thanks for the unforgettable night!"

And without waiting for a reply, she disappears through the door, leaving you standing there in the living room, trying to understand what on earth just happened.

—

You wake up Saturday to your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Still groggy, you glance at the screen. 6 new messages. All from Chaeyoung.

[08:22]

"Good morning! 🌞"

[08:23]

"Last night was magical... I can still feel your touch on my lips 💞"

[08:23]

"I can’t wait to see Garfield tonight!"

[08:24]

"Are you up yet? :)"

[08:40]

"Look at my scrambled eggs! 🍳"

(accompanied by a pic of... scrambled eggs, naturally).

[08:55]

"And my cat, Lily, is waiting to get to know you better! 🐱"

(a pic of her cat, apparently with no clue of what’s going on).

You sigh, rubbing your eyes to wake up fully. The day has barely started and Chaeyoung is already in fifth gear, ready to drag you along. But before you can come up with a response, your work group chat starts blowing up too. And now, less tired, you realize that it wasn't a good idea to tell the embarrassing details.

Strictly Serious and Professional Coworkers Group:

"GOOD MORNING LADIES!

Oh, especially to our Brad Pitt haha"

"By the way, how was the kiss? 😘"

"Does she already call you 'baby'??"

"I can't believe that even Chaeyoung is dating and I'm not 😂😂"

"Admit it, you’re in love!"

"Never thought I’d be excited for Monday"

You roll your eyes at the group messages, cursing your fate. "I need help, you guys took this way too far!" you type quickly.

“LOL chill, man, you’re in a rom-com!”

“Have you picked the wedding venue yet?”

“We helped you find the love of your life and this is how you thank us???”

“Hey, but seriously, take care of her, she seems really into you”

“Good luck, you’re gonna need it!”

“Is Garfield gonna be the best man?”

You put your phone down for a moment, hoping breakfast will bring some clarity. But the battle is only beginning. Chaeyoung keeps filling your inbox with updates about her morning, pictures of her next steps, and even a video of Lily scratching the couch.

Finally, you reply: "That’s nice, Chaeyoung. Have a great day!" She responds with a heart emoji.

The rest of the day passes agonizingly. Every half hour, a new message arrives. Pictures of her at the mall. Pictures of her eating ice cream. Pictures of Lily. She’s basically creating a diary just for you. You respond sporadically, with generic replies like "Cool" or "Cute cat," but without much enthusiasm. All in a desperate attempt not to encourage her even more.

Then, at 5:45 PM, you receive the most dreaded message: "I’ll be there at 7:00!!! :)"

You knew this moment was coming. You spent the whole day trying to come up with an excuse, and nothing brilliant struck your mind until this critical moment. But finally, you have an idea. The old, never-fail excuse: you’re going to say you’re sick.

"Ah, Chae… I think tonight’s going to be tricky. I’m not feeling well. I’ve got a fever and a headache"

You even add a sick emoji.

Who wouldn’t believe that?

Her reply comes almost instantly. "OMG!! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to bring medicine?"

"No need, I’ve already taken some. I just need to rest. We'll watch Garfield another day, I promise," you respond quickly, already feeling the vibe of a peaceful weekend.

"Aww, that’s a shame… I was so excited... :( Get better soon, sweetie 🥺"

You let out a long sigh of relief, finally thinking you're free, at least for a while. Silence falls like a comforting blanket over your house.

Peace at last.

Hours pass. You’re sitting on the couch, content, with a pizza, a cold beer, and a documentary about the Vietnam War on TV. Everything is as it should be, the natural order of things restored. Until… the doorbell rings.

You pause with the pizza halfway to your mouth.

"It can’t be her. I said I was sick."

Convinced it must be just a neighbor, you open the door with the skepticism of someone who’s seen too much of life.

But no, it’s not the neighbor.

It’s Chaeyoung.

And she’s holding a huge bag, with that cheerful smile like she’s been hired to keep you company in a cold medicine commercial.

"Surprise!" she says, walking through the door as if she already had a key. "I came to take care of you!"

Your mind freezes. For a second, you wonder if you’ve slipped into a parallel reality where "I’m sick" translates to "please come over and take care of me like I’ve broken both legs." She opens the bag and starts pulling out medicine, tissues, and even a thermos.

"I brought tea, meds, and I even made some soup!" She says it with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks they’re saving the day.

"Chaeyoung... you didn’t have to come..." you begin, trying to hide the confusion and panic already bubbling up inside you.

"Of course I did! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my baby?"

“Girlfriend?!”

Your brain almost short-circuits at that word.

"Yes! We’re in love with each other, we’re basically dating. You just need to make it official. And couples take care of each other!" She’s already taking off her coat and heading to the kitchen with the ease of someone in a '90s sitcom. "Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. You just need to relax."

You’re left standing there in the living room, paralyzed. All you wanted was a quiet Saturday. Now, you're engulfed in the smell of soup and the absurd idea that you have a girlfriend who thinks Garfield and cold remedies are the foundation of a relationship.

She comes back with a steaming bowl of soup, handing it to you with a smile. "Here, love. This will make you feel better in no time!"

"Just… put the soup anywhere. I, uh, need to go to the bathroom real quick," you say, abruptly leaving the room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your pocket like a man on the edge of a breakdown. As the world outside gets increasingly... Chaeyoung, you open your friends' group chat, furiously typing:

"You're all dead. Every one of you!"

The reply comes in seconds, like hyenas circling a carcass.

"HAHAHAHA dude, you still haven't told her??"

"Seriously, someone help me. This girl’s completely in love, and it's getting out of hand. I can’t just tell her it was a prank, she'll be crushed"

"Imagine her face when she finds out, it’ll be like when Babe realizes he's NOT a herding dog"

"For the love of God, is anyone going to help me?"

A notification appears: Saerom was added to the group.

Great, Miss Nosy has entered the chat.

"I just found out what you guys did. You’re all jerks. Honestly, this prank went way too far!!"

You breathe a sigh of relief. An ally.

She continues:

"Don’t tell her it was a joke, or she’ll never step foot in the office again. You need to be more... gentle"

"Gentle? How am I supposed to be gentle?"

"Just make something up about being scarred by a past relationship, something unresolved. Say you like her but you're not ready"

"Past relationship? All my relationships were healthy... as much as they could be"

"Then use your imagination, genius. Lie and say it was traumatic. You need to talk to her before this gets out of control"

You thank her, knowing it’s going to be a disaster. But at least it’s a plan.

—

She takes another bite of your pizza, chewing absentmindedly while you take another spoonful of soup. The soup, to your surprise, isn’t bad. It's actually good, which only makes the situation more depressing. As you eat, your attention shifts to Chaeyoung, who’s happily nibbling the last slice of your pizza. You feel a pang of sadness and resignation; life really isn’t fair, but at least the soup is decent.

And then, out of nowhere, Chaeyoung starts talking about the past. Of course, she starts talking about the past, because what else did you need right now, besides a dive into emotional tragedies?

"You know," she says with a long sigh, as if recalling an old wound, "I was never one of those popular girls. Not in high school, not in college. I was always... invisible. Like, the kind of girl who’s in the group, but no one knows her name."

She leans in a little closer, her wide, bright eyes locked on you. "When I was in high school, there was a party that all the girls in my class were invited to. Me? Not even a mention. Not even an invitation. And the boys? They didn’t even know I existed. They were all more interested in the girls who wore lip gloss and knew how to walk in heels. I just... I just wanted someone, anyone, to notice me, you know?"

You feel the soup thickening in your mouth. "Yeah, I... I know what you mean." Of course, you know. Who doesn't? You’ve met plenty of girls like that, from middle school to high school.

But you also know that none of this is about you, so you swallow her sadness along with the soup.

"Then, in college, I thought things would change. I even made an effort, you know? I started dressing up more. I wore contacts instead of glasses. I tried to seem more... approachable? But guess what? Nothing changed." She shrugs, like she’s used to it, but you see a flash of pain in her smile. "I tried so hard to be nice to people, to be the perfect friend, the hardworking student... And I always ended up being the one who got forgotten when they made lunch plans after class. The other girls would get together to take cute pictures with their boyfriends, and me? Well, I took selfies with my cat."

You give a smile, and this time it’s not forced. There’s something genuine about the way she talks, a kind of sweet sincerity, even if a bit overdone. "Lily?"

She smiles. "Lily! Yeah. She’s the only one who’s been there for me, you know? Always listening, always understanding... She never judged me. And now, baby," - because of course, she keeps calling you that - "now I have you. And I never thought this would happen. I guess it was worth waiting all this time."

There’s something touching about all of this. What starts as a slight discomfort slowly turns into self-reflection. You always thought these stories were, deep down, about other people. But as she talks, you realize that maybe you understand exactly how she feels: that invisibility, the sense that the world keeps spinning without even noticing your presence.

And, before you know it, you start sharing a bit of your own past. Not the big details, but enough to fill the conversation. You talk about how quiet you were in school, how you had friends but were never the center of attention. "I was more the guy who stayed in the library while everyone else was playing basketball," you say.

She looks at you, almost shocked. "Really? You seem so... popular now. I mean, you talk to everyone at the office. People always listen to what you say."

You smile with a hint of irony. "I guess I learned to adapt."

"That’s amazing." Her eyes shine again, this time with genuine admiration. "I was never good at that. Adapting, I mean. That’s why it was so hard when I started at work... If you hadn’t been so kind to me at the beginning, I don’t even know how I would’ve managed."

And then, in a flash of courage you can’t quite understand, you let out a compliment. "You’re more adaptable than you think, Chae. And honestly, you look... really pretty today."

The smile she gives you could light up a stadium. "You really think so?”

"Yeah," you say, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to put too much weight on the compliment, but already feeling the growing responsibility behind every word. "The makeup, the way you styled your hair. Everything."

She looks so radiant that you almost regret saying it. Almost. "Wow, you're the best! Seriously! I never thought a guy like you would even notice me. I know, for you, it must be normal to be... amazing." She looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "But for me, all of this is so new. It's like, all of a sudden, I’ve found... the perfect person."

Oh no.

The perfect person.

That phrase hits you like an invisible anvil.

Desperately searching for a way out, you look away. "Well, sometimes I think... a young bird shouldn't be trapped in a cage." You start rambling, hoping the metaphor will get through to her, but she just blinks, confused. "You know," you continue, already sweating internally, "birds should fly free, explore the world."

She nods, smiling. "Oh, yes, I totally agree! I think cages are cruel. I would never keep a bird trapped. They need to be free." And there goes your metaphor. You try to force a laugh, but it sounds like the creak of an old, rusty door. "Everyone should realize that, it's so obvious." Chaeyoung smiles, fully absorbed in her own romantic vision of things. "Like I was saying, I’ve found my person. And now, with you, I feel like I can finally be myself."

“Err, excuse me for a second,” you say, standing up from the couch, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

The tiled walls around you feel like the only safe place in the house. A precious moment to breathe, and of course, update the group:

"Dude, this is harder than I thought. She's opening up about her whole life and... God, it feels impossible to escape without breaking her"

The group chat starts popping off like popcorn in hot oil.

"Man, for the love of God, just tell her you have a traumatic past. Like, 'Oh, my heart's been broken and I'm not ready for this"

Naturally, someone else chimes in.

"Seriously, that excuse ALWAYS works. Girls don’t question it, they just give you that ‘aww, poor thing’ look, and you’re good"

"I'm scared she’s going to start crying. I can't handle girls crying"

You can almost hear the collective sigh of frustration from the other side of the screen.

"Crying? That's the least you're gonna have to deal with if you keep dragging this out. Seriously, if you were more direct, she’d be out of there by now"

"YOU’RE the ones who put this ridiculous idea in her head! It’s not like I asked for this mess"

"Yeah, but you’re the one letting it go on this long. We picked you as the target because you’re all mature and polite; we thought you could handle it"

"Dude, man up. What’s a few tears? You’ll survive. She’ll survive"

"Survive? I’m the only one here who had to hear about how her cat is the only being who’s ever loved her unconditionally since college! What do you want me to do? Crush her dreams with a sledgehammer?"

"Yes. That’s exactly what we want"

You’re about to type another angry response when Saerom steps in with a message.

"Guys, seriously, the problem is he's a coward. He’s afraid of a cute girl who just wants love. You're dragging this out unnecessarily. I'd say you’re even enjoying having a girl at your feet..."

Oh, Saerom, this is the same Saerom who was doubled over laughing at lunch yesterday when Chaeyoung smiled every time she looked at you. You take a deep breath before typing.

"Excuse me, WHO set this up in the first place? I know it wasn't me. And don’t pretend to be all sensible now, Saerom, I remember you making jokes about Chaeyoung when she first joined the company. Just a reminder: this fucking prank was NOT MY IDEA"

Saerom replies:

"And who’s feeding her delusion, pretending everything’s fine?

Exactly, YOU"

You lean against the sink, letting out a heavy sigh. This conversation is going nowhere. You didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be dragged into the emotional life of someone as intense and awkward as Chaeyoung. But here you are, suffering because you’re too nice, while your so-called friends are more interested in watching you struggle.

The mental alarm bell of "just end this already" rings in your head, but like a soldier without ammunition, you find yourself fighting through a minefield of hopes and expectations.

The truth is, as you type, you already know you won’t be able to be direct. Not with Chaeyoung, not with that strange mix of awkward sweetness and infectious enthusiasm she brings.

You don’t want to be the villain in her story.

"Fine, I’ll do something about it. But if she starts crying, that’s on you guys. You’ll all pay"

Taking a deep breath, you leave the bathroom, ready to put the plan in motion. But when you return to the living room, there's no sign of Chaeyoung. The TV is still on, some random show playing, but she... is gone.

"Chae?" you call, wandering through the house.

Nothing.

Then, you find her in the music room, admiring your vinyl collection. She’s standing in front of the shelves, her fingers gently brushing over the album covers.

"You have an amazing collection!" she exclaims, spinning on her heels to face you, her eyes full of admiration. "I had no idea you collected records!"

You try to downplay it. "Oh, it's just a silly hobby. I like music... and vinyl. There’s something more authentic about the sound, you know?"

She picks up an album, inspecting the cover art. "Wow. Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, Pink Floyd... You have great taste. This is so... you!" She smiles, as if that explains everything.

You chuckle. "Well, they’re classics, right?"

Chaeyoung moves from one record to the next. Each vinyl is treated like a relic, something precious, and you, watching from the other side of the room, can’t help but smile. It’s strange, but something about the way she marvels at your collection makes you... happy.

"Oh my God, you have The Beatles! I love them. Did you know I once painted a picture inspired by ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’? It was all in shades of purple and blue, kind of psychedelic, with floating stars and... Well, I’m terrible at describing it, but you get the idea!" Chaeyoung talks so fast that the words seem to trip over each other, as if they're racing to get out of her mouth.

"Wait, you paint?" The surprise in your voice is genuine. So far, Chaeyoung has been full of surprises, but the fact that she paints is something you definitely didn’t expect.

She beams, excited, putting the Beatles record back and turning to you with shining eyes. "Yeah! Ever since I was a kid, actually. In school, I was that weird girl who would be painting instead of paying attention in math class. Not that my teachers liked that, but I always thought art was more important than calculating angles."

You nod, genuinely intrigued by how interested you are. "And what do you paint besides psychedelic Beatles scenes?"

"Oh, a bit of everything! Nature, flowers, cats, starry skies... Mostly when I’m sad, I paint the night sky. The stars make me feel... less alone."

The image of Chaeyoung painting in silence, surrounded by colors and stars, fills your mind. And it’s impossible not to find her endearing in this moment. The energetic and slightly crazy girl who’s now in your house has a depth you hadn’t noticed before. You find yourself curious, more interested than you expected.

"I never imagined you were a painter," you say. "It must be nice to have something like that, to express how you feel."

She shrugs but smiles proudly. "Yeah, it helps. Sometimes life gets confusing, you know? And so do people. But when I paint, none of that matters. It's just me, the colors, and the rest of the world disappears."

You smile, stepping closer to her. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s speechless, something rare for her. "Really? You’d like that?"

"Of course," you respond, without realizing just how honest you're being. "I think it’d be amazing."

Chaeyoung smiles so openly that you almost feel the room warm up. "I’d love to show you! I have a bunch at home. I thought about sending you some pictures today, but I wanted you to see them in person. I wanted it to be kind of a surprise."

You find yourself torn.

Now, seeing her here, excited about your records, almost dancing with every vinyl she picks up, you begin to feel something uncomfortable. Something that nags at your conscience like an itch.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren't as eager to end this as you thought.

Yes, all of this started as a big prank. Yes, your coworkers are a bunch of jerks who threw you into this situation without mercy. And yes, Chaeyoung… well, she’s a bit eccentric, to say the least. But there's something about her, a sincerity, a disarming purity, that makes it hard to keep thinking of her as just "the weird girl from the office."

You look at her now, smiling at something she found - a David Bowie album you’d almost forgotten you had. The way she interacts with your things, as if she’s discovering every part of you with the same enthusiasm a child would have opening a Christmas present. There’s no pretense in anything she does. Chaeyoung isn’t trying to impress you. She’s not here to prove anything. She’s just... herself. And as scary as that is, it’s also, in some way, comforting.

Suddenly, the excuse you were about to use - "I'm not ready, I'm still recovering from a bad relationship" - seems too fake to you.

A small voice - the kind that always knows more than the rest of you is willing to admit - whispers that maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating things. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you just… let things happen.

“Are you okay?” Chaeyoung asks suddenly, turning to you with a smile.

“Yeah, just... thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She approaches with her usual curiosity.

You hesitate. “I was thinking that... maybe I’ve been too quick to try and figure all this out.”

She frowns for a moment, trying to read between the lines. Then her face lights up. "You’re worried that things are moving too fast?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Look, I'm not good with this stuff. Dating, friendships, these... relationship rules. But I know I like you. And I know you make me happy. I don't know what else I should be thinking about besides that."

And in that moment, reality hits you hard. Maybe the problem was never Chaeyoung. Maybe the problem is you, stuck in an idea of how things should be, when in fact, what you’re experiencing now is as real as anything you could’ve planned.

"You're right," you say finally, feeling a strange mix of relief and acceptance. "I think I was overcomplicating it… By the way, can I ask if you're free tomorrow night?"

"Yes! Why?"

"I... was thinking... maybe I could take you out to dinner."

If she was excited before, now she looks like she’s won the lottery. "REALLY? Oh my God, yes! Of course, I’d love to!" She starts bouncing slightly, barely able to contain her excitement. "Oh wow, this is going to be amazing! I can't believe you want to take me out to dinner!"

"Yeah, well... I just thought it’d be nice. Nothing too fancy."

"Nothing too fancy?" She looks at you incredulously. "It’s the best thing ever! It’s going to be so romantic!" And then, without warning, she hugs you. "I knew you were a gentleman from the start!"

You clear your throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Well, uh... since it’s raining outside... do you want to stay over tonight?"

And if you thought she was happy before, now she’s absolutely over the moon. "OF COURSE I DO! Actually, when I came, I thought you were still sick, so I brought my pajamas. I thought maybe you'd need someone to take care of you."

She smiles with such genuine innocence that you almost forget you were plotting to end this a few minutes ago.

But the truth is, deep down, you’ve always found her oddness at work kind of... cute. Like that day she showed up with dinosaur socks under her business slacks. The whole office laughed behind her back, but you thought, in some way, it was adorable. And brave. She didn’t care about the unspoken rules of the workplace. She was just being herself, and that took a kind of strength you, for some reason, had never given proper credit to.

You remember when she opened her lunchbox during the lunch break, revealing a work of art made of food: rice in the shape of a heart, seaweed bears, and vegetables so well-arranged they looked like a painting. Everyone laughed, called it childish, but you... You found yourself admiring it. You didn’t say anything, of course. Stayed quiet. But, honestly, you thought it was incredibly creative.

And when she was in charge of organizing the year-end party? Everyone was horrified by the PowerPoint full of emojis and bouncing animations. To them, it was “corny”. To you, it was a genuine attempt to make something fun. Something you secretly admired. You could see how hard she had tried. But, as always, you bit your tongue, let the moment pass, and hid in the mediocrity of consensus.

Now, as she smiles at you, you have this epiphany: maybe you’ve always liked her. Not in the obvious, immediate way the rest of the world expects. But in a subtler, quieter way. The kind of attraction that comes from admiring someone for being authentic, for being weird in a way the rest of the world finds unsettling, but you... well, you’ve always found fascinating.

And then, there's the other thing: all this time, you weren't worried about her. You were worried about what others would think. That invisible weight you carry when you're around people who judge you for everything, even the way you look at someone. Your friends, the office, the behind-the-back laughter. They shaped you more than you wanted to admit. You stayed silent when they laughed at her, you let them guide your perception, even when, deep down, you knew something was off. And this makes you think that things would have to change now. No more complacency. No more jokes at Chaeyoung’s expense. Everyone in the office would treat her well from now on, and you would ensure that.

You realize it wasn’t her who pushed you away. It was your own cowardice. The way you let others influence what you felt. And now, seeing her here, surrounded by your records, you realize you’re more comfortable than you’ve ever been with anyone else.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask.

She stares at you for a second, maybe surprised by the softness of the question, but then she smiles. "Of course you can!"

And then, without further hesitation, you lean in and kiss her. It's the kind of kiss that makes time stop - or, at least, makes you wish it would. Her arms naturally find their way around your neck, and for a moment, it's just the warmth of her lips, the way she fits into you.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, she sighs and says, without any filter: "I like your lips."

You laugh, a little surprised by her bluntness. "That's a pretty... direct comment." But you can't help agreeing. "I like your lips too." And, without thinking much, you brush a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture that should be cliché, but somehow, it fits.

You look at her, trying to guess what's going on in Chaeyoung's mind, who now has her eyes cast down, biting her lip, and you know the atmosphere is about to change.

"Do you... find me attractive?" The question comes out of nowhere, as if it escaped from the deepest corner of her mind. Her voice was a bit hesitant, but there was a raw honesty there. The kind of honesty you only find in children or in adults who've had more disappointments than they could count.

You stare at her, astonished, for two reasons. One, that she truly doesn't realize how attractive she is, and two, that the question seems to come loaded with a raw expectation of approval. "Of course you are," you say, with more certainty than you intended. "You're very attractive."

She blushes, and her fingers begin to nervously play with the fabric of her dress. "It's just... I've always wanted... you know... to experience that thing. And with you, the desire only grows," she admits, the words coming out in a nervous whisper. "I keep imagining all sorts of things... many things."

It's rare for you to be speechless, but here you are, completely disarmed by her confession. "I understand," you respond, trying to ignore the weight of it, but there's something in the way she looks at you, like she's trusting you with an immense secret, that makes your voice come out softer. And then, before the conversation can unravel, she rushes to continue:

"I don't want you to think I just... just see you like this, as if you're only... an object of desire , you know?" Her voice is a flurry of words, as if the mere act of speaking is the only way to keep from drowning in her insecurities. "I love everything about you - the way you care, the way you talk, the way you dress, your quirks... It's just-"

"Chae," you interrupt her with a smile, gently taking her hand. "It's okay. I get what you mean."

She seems relieved, but still a little lost, as if trying to realign her inner compass. You hold her hand more firmly, the warmth and firmness grounding her. "And if you want, if you feel comfortable... I don't see any problem with... well, us doing this."

The color deepens in Chaeyoung's cheeks, which seemed impossible, and she lets out a small sigh, almost as if absorbing the gravity of what you just said. "Do you think... it's not too fast?" Her voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "I... I thought we'd only do this after, I don't know, getting married ." She laughs nervously.

You laugh too, the kind of laugh that makes the nervousness dissipate a little. "Married? That would take a long time." You lean in a little closer, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "And honestly, it would be torture to wait that long, you know... with you being like this."

"Like what?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice, almost childlike, as if she doesn't realize just how much Chaeyoung is... her.

"Like... you. So beautiful, so unique," you reply, your eyes locked on hers, hoping she understands that you truly believe this.

She looks away and murmurs, "I... I wouldn't be able to wait that long either." And then, with a kind of honesty that only Chaeyoung could muster, she adds, "Especially with you being so... hot."

You almost choke on the sincerity of her response, but before you can react, something inside you, perhaps an impulse you didn't even know you had, makes you act. With a sudden movement, you scoop her into your arms.

Chaeyoung lets out a small gasp of surprise, her arms wrapping around your neck. "W-what are you doing?" Her surprise is genuine, but there's a laugh hidden behind it.

"Taking you to the bedroom," you respond with a calm smile.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her eyes shining. "Are we... doing this now?"

"If you want," you say calmly.

Chaeyoung seems to reflect for a moment, but her eyes meet yours, and something shifts in her. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice soft but resolute. "I want to."

As you carry Chaeyoung to the bedroom, the rain continues to patter softly against the windows, as if providing the soundtrack to a scene even the gods of romantic comedies couldn't have predicted. When you lay her gently on the bed, you feel the weight of something larger than yourself approaching, a mix of desire and uncertainty that seems to hang in the air. But when your lips meet hers, all those thoughts simply... vanish.

She's warm, soft, and each kiss you share seems to last longer than the one before, as if time is slowing down, or maybe the rain outside is trying to set the pace.

You pull back for a moment, removing your shirt in a gesture you've probably done a million times, but to her, it seems incredibly unique, and Chaeyoung can't hide her surprise. Her eyes widen for a brief second before softening into something like admiration.

"Wow," she says, almost reverently, as if she's admiring a Renaissance masterpiece in a museum and not your body, which, to be honest, is far too generous a comparison, but let's go with it.

At that exact moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, and for a second, the cruel and merciless universe reminds you of your friends' existence. You pull out your phone, read the messages - something like "so, did it work?" - and without thinking twice, you turn the device off.

"You... look so... sexy," Chaeyoung murmurs, then laughs a little, clearly fighting the shyness that's winning. "I've never... touched a man's bare chest before."

You smile slightly, moving closer again. "Then savor the moment," you say, and she hesitates before sliding her hands over your abdomen, her fingers exploring your skin with a shy curiosity, almost innocent. Her touch is light at first, but soon gains a bit more confidence.

Meanwhile, you kiss her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, and the way she shivers under your lips makes you lose yourself even more.

You begin to slide the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, moving slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When the dress reaches her waist, Chaeyoung, in a way that is both shy and determined, sits up slightly and pulls it off completely, letting it fall in a forgotten pile on the floor. Now, only in her panties and bra, she looks at you with wide, nervous eyes, as if waiting for your assessment.

And, of course, you can't hold back. "You're so beautiful, Chaeyoung." Your words are simple but carry a truth that, by the way she immediately blushes, impacts her more than any grand compliment ever could.

She looks away for a second, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I... I never thought that... anyone would think that." She shifts uncomfortably, but her discomfort only heightens her innocent charm.

You also stand, beginning to unbutton your pants, the sound of the buttons echoing almost like a beat amid the rain outside. "Lie down, Chaeyoung," you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She stays still for about three seconds before obeying, lying back on the bed, her body now completely surrendered to you, and to the moment that, suddenly, no longer seems so full of uncertainty.

Then, you gently spread Chae's legs in a way she didn't expect. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but you notice the nervousness in her trembling fingers and the slight tapping of her feet. "It's okay," you whisper. She lets out a small laugh, the kind that only happens when someone is scared but wants to appear brave.

Kissing the inside of her thigh, you feel the shiver that runs through Chae's slender body. She can't hide the tension but says nothing, as if waiting for you to guide her through this unknown art. Your fingers glide against the thin fabric of her panties, and you feel the growing heat between her legs. "Relax," you say, even though you know relaxing is the last thing she's going to do right now.

When you slowly remove her panties, like you're unwrapping something fragile, Chae's scent fills the air. She holds her breath for a moment, and her eyes, once lost on the ceiling, now close. Vulnerable. You know she wants this, but you also know she has no idea what she's about to feel.

You move closer, gently running your fingers over her swollen lips, parting them slightly. Your mouth follows the touch of your fingers, but you don't go straight to the point. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you kiss around, intentional kisses, your tongue tracing paths on her sensitive skin. She lets out a soft moan, her hips trying to follow your mouth, but you don't let her dictate the pace.

With one last glance at her face - where her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted in a sigh - you finally touch her clitoris with the tip of your tongue. The reaction is immediate: a small jolt, a moan that echoes in the room, like her body was just switched on. You circle her clit slowly, alternating between soft and firmer licks, feeling the smooth texture under your tongue. Chaeyoung is starting to lose herself in the pleasure, and you know because her moans are getting louder, more insistent, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

"Mmm, p-please," she whispers, barely audible, as if she's afraid to ask for what she really wants. You answer her request, sucking on her clit more firmly as your fingers begin to explore deeper. You slide them inside her tight pussy slowly, while continuing to lick, feeling her body's response on your tongue. The warmth around your fingers, the pressure from her inner muscles that seem unwilling to let you go.

Tasting more of her with each new lick, your mouth becomes increasingly hungry, as if the only thing that matters in the world is how her body reacts to you. The heat radiating from between her legs is almost overwhelming, and her moans, once restrained, are growing louder, more desperate. She's no longer trying to hide anything.

She just wants more. Simply more.

You stop fingering her pussy for a moment, just to hold her thighs, your hands firm as you keep her legs open, which keep trying to close, your tongue sliding over her clit in quick, intense movements. Her taste is strong now, a mix of salt and desire that makes you want everything. You feel her body tremble, her hips moving against your mouth, seeking more contact, more pressure. She is completely surrendered.

“Mmm, please… don’t stop!” she moans, her voice shaky and almost sobbing. You laugh against her skin, the sound muffled between Chae's legs, and reply with a quick glance, your eyes fixed on her face, contorted in desire.

"Are you going to come for me, Chae?" you murmur, your voice husky as your fingers slide back inside her, filling her completely. She lets out an even louder moan, her body arching, her inner muscles tightening around her fingers. "Tell me, Chae... tell me what you want," you tease, your mouth not stopping, your tongue focused on her clit while your fingers penetrate her deeply, each movement a new shock of pleasure.

“I... I'm gonna... Oh my God! II can't..." she tries to speak, but the words are lost among the moans. She's on the edge, holding on by a thread, and you can feel it. She's struggling to maintain control, but she won't last much longer.

“Go ahead,” you whisper against her, sucking her clit harder now, your mouth fully covering it while your fingers continue relentlessly. “I want you to come. Now. In my mouth.”

It's all she needed to hear. With one last loud moan, almost a scream, her body completely loses control. Her hips lift off the bed, pressing your mouth against her pussy, as if trying to swallow you. Her taste explodes on your tongue, a hot, salty rush that you devour like a reward. Chaeyoung comes hard, her body trembling violently, each moan louder than the last until she's practically sobbing from the pleasure.

You don't stop. You keep sucking, drawing out every drop, as if you want to prolong the moment, wanting more of her, wanting to feel everything. "That's it, baby… Come more, " you murmur against her, your voice almost a growl. Her moans are wild now, completely out of control, and you know you've pushed her past a limit she never knew existed.

“Please, stop! Mmm, I c-can’t anymore!” she moans, her voice trembling, as if begging for mercy, but you can tell that part of her wants you to take her even deeper. Every part of her body tightens, surrenders, and you only stop when you feel she's completely exhausted, her muscles still pulsing around your fingers.

You move up her body, her taste still on your lips, your breath heavy. Chae's face is a beautiful mess of sweat, pleasure, and confusion, but you smile, knowing what comes next.

You love this part.

“Now,” you say in a low, almost commanding voice, “I want you to feel what I did.”

Before she can process what that means, you kiss her, deep and wet, your tongue slipping into her mouth, letting her taste herself. At first, she hesitates, but soon her moans turn into something new, something that mixes with the taste you just took from her. She kisses you back, hungry, and what started as vulnerability is slowly turning into something much more lustful, more intense, and carnal.

You trail kisses down Chae's body, every inch of her skin seems simply irresistible. Her breathing quickens as you descend, her hand brushing the sheets as if searching for something to hold onto, something stable. When you reach her small, delicate breasts, you slowly pull down her bra with deliberate slowness, exposing them as if standing before something precious. Your lips touch one of her nipples, soft at first, a light suction that makes her arch her body. A soft, trembling moan escapes Chae, and you feel her fingers tighten around the fabric of the bed.

“Are you enjoying it?” you murmur against her skin, your hand now playing with her other breast, fingers teasing, squeezing lightly.

She just nods, her eyes closed, lips parted as she whispers a faint “Yes, so much... Mmm, keep going...” barely audible. There's a vulnerability in her tone, something between desire and the fear of being completely consumed by it. You obey, sucking her nipple harder, her moans growing louder, more uncontrolled, as your other hand continues to explore.

But you don't want to rush anything.

You want every touch to be a memory, something she'll feel even after it's all over.

When you stop and stand to grab the condom from the nightstand, Chae looks confused for a second, her body shifting slightly, as if sensing the absence of your touch. You pull off your boxers, the cool air brushing your skin, and her expression changes. Chae's eyes, once full of nerves, now sparkle with something different, something curious.

She watches in silence as she takes off her bra, almost mesmerized, while you put on the condom. There's something intense in that moment, in her silent admiration, like she's processing everything at once.

“I'll go slow,” you say, kneeling back on the bed, gently lifting her legs around your waist. “If it hurts too much, let me know, okay?”

Chae bites her lip and nodes, her eyes locked on yours. “I trust you... just... take it easy.”

You position yourself, the tip of your cock touching her entrance, warm and tight. The moment stretches, the air heavy between you. Slowly, you begin to push in, and the sound she makes is a mix between a moan and a sigh. The sensation is intense, her tightness almost painfully constricting. You move forward slowly, every inch feels like a battle against her body, which gradually adjusts and gives way, millimeter by millimeter.

Chae bites her lip hard, her face flushed, her hands gripping her arms as if seeking something to hold onto. “Are you okay, baby?” you ask, pausing for a moment, noticing the slight tremble in her lips.

She nods, her voice is soft and hesitant. “Yeah... I'm okay. It’s just… it’s too big.”

You smile gently, wanting to reassure her. “I'll go slow, I promise.” And with that, you start moving again, pushing in slowly until you're fully inside her. Chae lets out a long moan, her eyes tightly shut. She's so tight that every movement feels like a challenge, but you hold back, maintaining control.

Then, as you pull out slightly, you notice a small trace of blood. Her hymen had broken. “Chae,” you say, your voice filled with concern. “There's a bit of blood... how are you feeling?”

She opens her eyes, still flushed, breathing heavily. “I'm... I'm okay. It's just... strange... but... it feels good too...”

You watch her for a moment, searching for any signs of discomfort beyond what she admits. Then you continue, moving a little faster, a little deeper, and her moans start to shift in tone, the pain slowly giving way to pleasure. With each thrust, you feel her body adjusting, relaxing, the initial resistance fading away.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” you whisper as you keep thrusting into her.

You lean over her, her body trembling beneath you, her small breasts pressed against your chest. Her skin is warm, sweaty, and you can feel every shaky breath she exhales as you move inside her. Your cock slides deep, her tightness gripping you like a vice. She lets out a loud moan, her arms wrapping around your neck, her legs tightening around your hips, holding you as if afraid to let go.

“Do you like it, Chae?” you ask, your voice low and rough in her ear. You can feel her heart racing, and it only makes you want more.

She tries to answer, but everything that comes out is a moan, a broken sound of pleasure. You smile against her neck, kissing the delicate skin, tasting her sweat. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Fuck, y-you're driving me crazy...” she manages to mutter, her voice cracking as you thrust deep, each stroke making her arch against the bed. “I've... I've never felt anything like this.”

You kiss her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, leaving marks that will last. “Your pussy's so wet,” you murmur against her skin, lightly biting her earlobe. “Feels like your body was made for this... for me .”

Chae lets out a high-pitched moan, her hips trying to match your rhythm, but you're in control. You thrust deeper, harder, feeling her body write with each push. “Do you feel how deep I am inside you? My thick, hard cock filling every inch of your pussy.”

She can only moan in response, her fingers digging into your back, scratching the skin as pleasure overwhelms her. And you love this, love seeing this beautiful, naïve, innocent girl lose all control because of you. It's like you're sculpting every sensation, molding her pleasure to your will. And the fact that it's her first time only makes it more addictive.

“You sound so sexy, moaning in my ear while I fuck you… Tell me, Chae, do you want more?” you ask, your voice dirtier now, and she nods frantically, her eyes squeezed shut, her face flushed with both shame and excitement.

“Yes, please... don't stop!” she begs, her voice cracking as you continue to fuck her. “You fuck me so good!”

You pick up the pace, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the room. Your cock slides deep, as deep as you can go in this position, and she lets out a loud, desperate moan. “You like it like this, huh? Getting fucked hard, knowing how much I'm loving fucking this virgin pussy!”

Chae writhes beneath you, her moans growing louder, faster.

She’s losing herself, another orgasm is close.

And you’re going to take it from her.

“Now let’s lie on our side, princess,” you say with a final kiss.

You turn her over carefully. She obeys, her body already limp, fully surrendered to you. Now, you position yourself behind her, your bodies aligned, so close that you can feel every breath she takes, every nervous twitch.

“Yeah, like this, Chae…” you murmur in her ear, a filthy undertone hidden in the words. With one hand, you guide your cock back inside her, the tight, wet sensation making both of you moan at the same time. Your hand now slides slowly down her side, feeling the warmth of her sweaty skin, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“You like this, don’t you?” you tease, your voice low, as you continue to thrust slowly, each stroke deep and calculated. Chaeyoung responds with a loud moan, her eyes closed, head tilting back, resting on your shoulder.

“Y-yes, yes! I love it…” Her voice trembles with each word, as if the pleasure is making it difficult to even think. The raspy sound of every moan only spurs you to go deeper.

You kiss her slender shoulder, your hand moving up the curve of her waist to her breasts. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, her entire body vibrating with the intensity of the experience. Your fingers squeeze one of her breasts, firm enough to elicit another moan from Chaeyoung, who begins to move, her hips pushing back against you, craving more.

“Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder…” she begs, almost breathless, her voice cracking with need. And you comply, the thrusts becoming faster, more intense, the rhythm of your bodies crashing together, primal and instinctive.

“You’re so tight, Chae… you’re driving me crazy…” you whisper, your mouth moving from her shoulder to her neck, sucking and nibbling softly as you keep thrusting deeply. She moans louder, her nails digging into the sheets.

“The first time… I never imagined it would be like this…” she murmurs between moans, her voice almost fading, as if she’s on the verge of losing her ability to speak. “It feels so good… so… Oh, you fuck me so well!”

You chuckle softly, satisfied. “You’ll remember your first fuck forever, Chae... You’ll remember how I made you come.”

And somehow, that ignites something inside her.

You feel Chae’s body start to writhe, her moans growing louder, more desperate. She’s close, you can tell. The hand that was on her breast now slides slowly down her body, and without warning, you grasp Chae’s slender neck, your fingers wrapping around it firmly, just enough to show her the control you have over her.

She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise, and her body responds immediately, arching against you, tightening around your cock. “You like this, don’t you, Chae?” your voice comes out hoarse, and she answers with a moan, the most primal sound you’ve ever heard.

“Y-yes, fuck!... yes, I… I love it!” She can barely form the words, her moans mixing with her ragged breaths. And it only makes you hungrier, more eager to push her beyond her limits.

You pick up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, and you squeeze her neck a little tighter, feeling her shudder under your touch. “Tell me, baby… Tell me what you want.”

She’s panting, her whole body drenched in sweat, her eyes shut. “More… please… Fuck me faster… harder…” Her voice breaks between the pleas, her moans becoming nearly screams of pleasure. “Fuck my pussy good, make me your little slut!”

“Like this?” you ask, and before she can respond, you obey, pounding into her with even more intensity, your cock driving into her with such force that Chae’s body slams against you, nearly folding under the impact.

“Ahhh… yes! Like that! Fuck… keep going, don’t stop!” She’s losing herself, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure, and Chae’s face twists, her eyes rolling back as you fuck her relentlessly. “I-I’m yours, baby… all yours! Fuck me harder!”

You pull her body closer, your fingers still gripping her neck, controlling every movement as you continue to pound deep, without pause. “You’re becoming such a dirty little girl, Chae. A slut who loves my cock!”

She bites her lip hard, her eyes barely open enough to meet yours. “Yes! I’m… I’m your slut… please, don’t stop… make me come again!”

You fuck her even faster, your hand tightening on her neck, dominating her completely. Each thrust is harder, deeper, until her body starts to tremble again, her moans growing louder, more intense.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” you murmur, your face close to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “You love coming on my cock, don’t you, Chae? Such a dirty slut! I want to feel you come… now!”

And that pushes her over the edge.

Her body explodes against you, writhing, trembling, and she screams as the orgasm overtakes her. “Ahhh… fuck… I'm cumming … I'm… ahhh!” The pleasure ripples through her like an electric shock, her muscles squeezing your cock so tight you can barely hold back.

You keep fucking her as she comes, drawing out her orgasm, her moans oscillating between pleasure and despair. “Yeah, that’s it, Chae… come for me… come on my cock, baby.” And she does, her whole body shaking, completely surrendered to the pleasure you’ve taught her to feel, until the tremors slowly subside, and she’s completely spent, her body limp in your arms, breathing heavily.

But you’re not done yet.

You feel Chae’s body still trembling in your arms, but you don’t give her even a second to rest. You lift her from the bed with a near predatory strength, your arms wrapping around her slim, delicate waist, and in one firm motion, you hoist her into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around you. The look on Chaeyoung’s face is a mix of surprise and pure lust, her pupils blown wide, her body molding to yours as you hold her aloft.

“You’re going to fuck me like this?” she asks, her voice shaky, almost disbelieving, but clearly begging for more.

“Yes, like this,” you reply with a lascivious smile, positioning her so your cock slips back inside her. Her weight only amplifies the intensity of each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with Chae’s high-pitched moans and your heavy breathing. Her body rises and falls, her arms wrapped around your neck, her legs clinging tightly to your waist.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” you ask, your lips brushing her ear, your hot breath making her shiver. She’s completely vulnerable, surrendered, and the feeling of power only drives you deeper into this lust.

“Yes… yes… more…” Chaeyoung whispers between moans, nearly crying from the overwhelming pleasure. “It feels so good… please… don’t stop…”

The way she says it, with so much need, with so much desperation, only drives you further. You fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust ripping short cries of pleasure from her. She can’t control the sounds escaping her throat, and you know she’s loving every second, loving the way she’s being taken by you, losing her virginity in a way she never imagined.

You fuck her mid-air with almost animalistic force, your hands firmly gripping her slender waist, guiding her movements. Your lips meet hers with urgency, a wet, clumsy, heated kiss. Her tongue searches for yours with desperate hunger, and you respond, exploring her mouth as you keep thrusting deep, each move making her moan louder than the last.

“Can you feel my cock being shoved deep into your tight little pussy?” you murmur between kisses, your voice low and hoarse, sweat dripping down your body as pleasure begins to blur into exhaustion.

“Yeah!! Please… don’t stop!” Chaeyoung practically begs, her voice thin, loaded with desire. Every word she speaks is a breathy gasp, her eyes half-closed like she’s lost in a storm of pleasure.

“Look at you... so submissive... clinging to me like your life depends on it,” you tease, nibbling her earlobe as you fuck her even harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, dirty, and her body moves wildly with each thrust.

“I-I love it! I love being yours!” Chae confesses, her eyes fully closed, her body trembling as you feel the spasms tightening around your cock. “Fuck me more... dominate me... use me however you want!”

Her filthy words make you lose any remaining control. Your mouth trails down her neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks, to remind her later of how you claimed her that night.

“You want more? Want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?” you whisper against her sweaty skin.

“Yes, baby! Yes… I want it,” Chae moans, her lips trembling as pleasure overtakes her.

You feel the heat rising, the climax almost at the door, and in one quick, rough motion, you sit up on the bed, Chaeyoung on your lap. “Then ride me,” you command, your voice raspy and authoritative, locking eyes with her.

She hesitates for only a second before letting out a low moan and beginning to move. Her legs trembling, she adjusts herself on top of you, your cock slipping back inside her. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she starts to ride, her breathing heavy, each movement eliciting short, sharp moans.

“That’s it, like that! Faster, Chae,” you urge, your hands gripping her waist, helping her keep pace. Her body moves up and down, each motion driving you deeper inside her, each moan louder, more desperate. “You’re so fucking tight… so good… I won’t last much longer, baby,” you warn, your eyes narrowing as you watch her face contort with pleasure, her lips parted, eyebrows arched in pure ecstasy.

“I want you to cum…” Chae responds, her voice barely audible from how breathless she is. “Please cum for me… I want all your hot cum in me.”

You grip her slender waist tighter, your fingers digging into her warm, soft skin, guiding her firmly, demanding more.

“Come on, Chae, I’m almost there... Faster,” you command. “I want to feel you really fuck me.”

Chae bites her lip, her messy hair falling over her shoulders as she tries to speed up, her legs trembling with the effort. With every move, her body sinks deeper onto you, drawing sharp, desperate moans from her. Your fingers dig even harder into her waist, guiding her, controlling the rhythm, forcing her to go faster than her body was prepared for. She has no choice but to follow your lead, her entire body surrendering to this frenzy.

“Your pussy is so wet, Chae, fuck…” you groan through clenched teeth, pulling her closer until your bodies are pressed together. “Can you feel how hard you’re making me? How much horny you're driving me?!”

“I... I feel everything,” Chae responds between moans, her voice breaking from the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t... I can’t stop... it feels so good...” She keeps grinding on top of you, her movements faster, more intense. Sweat drips down her body, shining under the soft light of the room, and you get lost in the sight of her - her face twisted in uncontrollable pleasure, her legs shaking as she struggles to keep up the pace.

Without warning, you lean forward and capture one of her small breasts in your mouth, sucking hard. The taste of her skin is salty with sweat, but addictive. You suck her nipple intensely, your tongue playing, teasing, while one hand moves to the other breast, squeezing, tugging, teasing the sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck!” Chae cries out, her body shuddering violently from the impact of your lips on her breasts. “Please... Please, don’t sto- Oh god! I love your mouth on my breast!!” She throws her head back, her hands digging into your shoulders as you keep her moving, riding faster than ever.

You suck harder, your teeth grazing lightly, making her moan even louder. Each thrust she makes over you brings you closer to the edge, and the feel of her trembling body, mixed with the taste and texture of her delicate skin, makes you lose all control. Your fingers keep gripping her hips, guiding her with a speed she can barely keep up with.

“Come on, Chae... faster... ride me hard!” you growl, your teeth still around her nipple, your eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I... can’t...” she moans, her eyes filled with pleasure and desperation, but even so, she tries. Her hips rise and fall faster, her movements nearly frantic as she tries to push you over the edge.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper with a wicked smile, your hand sliding down her sweaty back to grab her ass, pulling her down hard each time she rises. “And you’re loving every second... look at you, so obedient... so submissive...”

“I am... I love it! Fuck, I never thought it would feel this good!” Chae can barely speak between moans, her body now practically convulsing with pleasure. “Fuck me... fuck me more, baby... please!”

You continue to suck her, switching breasts, leaving the other one equally sensitive and swollen, while your hands squeeze her ass.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you tease, your tone cruel, feeling her on the verge of losing control.

“Yes... yes... I’m going to cum... again... I can’t take it anymore...” Chae cries out, her face contorted with pure pleasure, and you can feel the spasms starting to tighten around your cock. Each of her movements becomes uncoordinated, but that only brings you closer to your own climax. Her body contracts and explodes into a devastating orgasm, her moans loud and uncontrollable, her hips nearly frozen as she’s overtaken by the overwhelming pleasure.

You don’t stop, even as she trembles beneath you, her moans turning into sobs from the accumulated pleasure.

“You know what’s the best part?” you say between ragged breaths, your mouth close to her neck, kissing gently. “You’ll never forget this… how I made you cum so many times.”

Chaeyoung responds with a long moan, her body completely surrendered to you. “I know... I want you to fuck me like this... every day.”

You continue to move her hips slowly, as she’s too weak to do it herself. Each thrust inside her takes you closer, the tight heat of Chae’s body making you lose control. “I’m almost there... where do you want me to cum, Chae?

She hesitates for a second, then timidly murmurs, “On my face, sweetie.. please, cum on my face.”

The way she says it, with that soft, almost innocent voice, is enough to push you to the edge. You feel the lust explode inside you, and the image of Chae’s delicate face covered in your thick cum only heightens your desire.

“Fuck, baby, you're such a naughty girl,” you tease, your voice deep, filthy, as you keep moving her trembling body against yours. “You want me to cum all over your pretty little face, huh?”

Chaeyoung just nods, unable to form words, her moans now almost whispers. “Yes, baby, please... please...” She’s nearly crying from so much pleasure, her body completely at your mercy.

“Then get on your knees for me. I’m gonna cover your face with my thick load.”

Chaeyoung slowly slides off your lap, carefully kneeling on the floor, still trying to regain control of her trembling legs. Her eyes are fixed on you, wide and full of anticipation.

You take off the condom, your breathing fast and uneven, and she immediately wraps her lips around your cock, sucking with such intensity that it almost makes you lose balance. Her taste is still on your dick, and she seems to savor it, her eyes closed, her tongue’s movements deliberate, slow.

“Suck more… Yeah, just like that, baby,” you groan, your fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as she obeys, sucking with an almost insatiable hunger.

You feel your climax approaching, control slipping away with each passing second. Chae's body is kneeling in front of you, her wide eyes full of anticipation, fixed on you as if she's ready to receive something precious. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath heavy, mingled with the palpable excitement in the air. You can’t hold back any longer.

"Are you ready, Chae?" you ask, your voice hoarse, your body trembling with tension as you grip your cock, holding it tight at the base.

She nods quickly, her eyes shining with desire. "Yes... yes... I want your cum on my face." Her voice carries a shy, exciting tone, and it only makes your need grow. You start jerking yourself harder, your cock throbbing in your hand. "Cover my face with your hot cum, baby!"

Those dirty words, spilling from such a delicate mouth, make your cock twitch in anticipation. "Fuck, I'm so horny!!" you growl, holding the base of your cock and pointing it directly at her face.

"Yes... make me filthy... I've always wanted to feel this," Chaeyoung replies.

You can’t hold back anymore. "Fuck, I’m cumming, Chae!" you say through gritted teeth as the pleasure builds to a breaking point.

She can only whisper, "Yeah, please, cum-" before the first spurt hits her cheek directly. Chae gasps, but doesn’t look away. Your fingers continue moving quickly at the base of your cock, another thick shot hitting her other cheek, chin, and a little bit of her forehead.

“Oooh! Yeeaah! Mmm, that’s so fucking good,” you moan, overcome with pleasure. "You look so beautiful covered in my cum,” you groan. “I knew you’d love this… look at you, all messy.”

Holding the base of your still hard, throbbing cock, you guide it toward Chae’s face. Her body is completely surrendered, panting, her eyes half-closed, a lazy smile of satisfaction forming on her lips.

“Look at me,” you command, as the tip of your cock touches her cheek, spreading the remnants of your cum across her delicate skin. Chaeyoung obeys, lifting her face with a gaze filled with adoration and bliss. You begin brushing your cock against her face, slowly, savoring the warm, sticky sensation.

The remaining cum smears and glistens on her skin under the soft bedroom light. First her cheek, then you move to her mouth, tapping your cock lightly against her lips. Without hesitation, she opens her mouth slightly, running her tongue lightly over the tip. Just seeing her, dirty and submissive, sends another wave of pleasure through your body.

“Tell me how much you're enjoying this,” you tease, the tip of your cock tracing her chin, spreading your cum over every inch it can reach.

Chaeyoung only moans, a low, satisfied sound, moving her face to meet each brush of your cock as if wanting more. “I'm… loving it,” she murmurs, her voice broken with desire, eyes closing again as your cock glides over her forehead, leaving a trail of cum. “I love being yours… your dirty little slut.”

“This is what you wanted? To be like this, all marked by me?” you ask with a wicked smile, leaning forward to rub your cock against the tip of her nose, dirtying her even more.

“Yes...” Chaeyoung whispers, her tongue trying to reach the head of your cock again. “You're making me feel so slutty.”

The way she speaks, the devotion in her voice, just makes you want to keep going. You cover her completely, your cock painting her face with cum, the sides of her mouth, her eyes, everywhere. And each time you touch her, Chaeyoung seems to enjoy it even more, her eyes closed, as if she’s in pure ecstasy from being covered in your cum.

Chae licks her lips, savoring what’s left of your cum, her gaze locked on you, more lustful than ever. “I want more, baby…” she whispers, her shy tone now replaced by something more primal. She leans forward, and without hesitation, closes her lips around the head of your cock again, sucking with a pressure that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Chae! Fuck…” you moan loudly, your body arching involuntarily as she sucks slowly, each of her movements intentional, prolonging your pleasure as the last spasms of orgasm ripple through you. She plays with her tongue around the head, exploring, savoring, while her hands softly caress your balls.

“Your cock tastes so good,” Chaeyoung murmurs, and then her lips press back against your cock. “I like making you lose control like this,” she says with a small smile.

She gives another slow lick before releasing your cock with a wet pop, her eyes rising to meet yours, her cheeks and chin still gleaming with your cum. You can hardly believe the sight before you: Chaeyoung, your awkward workmate, covered in your cum, satisfied, with a new confidence shining through her former shyness.

“Wow, Chae… you're beautiful like this… Seriously, so beautiful,” you say breathlessly, the words escaping as an admiring whisper.

Chae lowers her eyes, a small, embarrassed smile playing on her lips, but there's pride in the way she wipes the corner of her mouth with her hand. “D-did I do it right?” she asks softly.

“Fuck, you have no idea.”

—

The hot water falls like a liquid curtain, each drop seems to soften the moment, making your touch even more intimate. You're gently soaping her shoulder with a tenderness that can only come from that strange mix of desire and affection now hanging between you. Chaeyoung is quiet, which, you note with some surprise, is a rarity. Maybe she's still processing what just happened. You decide to break the silence because, frankly, the idea of stillness while sharing the same space with her feels strange.

“So... was it everything you expected?”

She lifts her head, blinking as if she's just emerged from a dream. And in a way, you think that's exactly what's happening. A slow, wide smile spreads across her face. “It was better ,” she says, with a restrained enthusiasm that would melt anyone's heart. “I... I never thought it'd be like this. I mean, I always imagined it would be good, but not this good.” She giggles, a giggle that starts shy but bursts into full laughter. “You're really perfect!”

This word again.

You feel the blush rise to your face, and it's not just from the hot steam. Perfect is too strong of a word for you; Honestly, it's too strong of a word for anyone. "Me? Perfect? I don't know if I'd say that.”

She hugs you suddenly, her wet arms wrapping tightly around your chest, as if she's making sure you won't disappear like a soap bubble. “I'm serious,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice muffled but full of sincerity. “The way you made me feel... I never... never imagined it. Three times, do you know? How is that even possible?” She laughs again, this time with a slightly mischievous glitter in her eyes. “It was so intense. But now, you're being so gentle with me. You're not just amazing in bed, you're amazing outside of it too.”

The mention of “three times” makes you smile.

Okay, you're a little proud, not going to lie.

But what strikes you the most is the way she talks about you, like you're some kind of medieval knight who rescued not a damsel in distress, but a damsel who didn't even realize she was venturing into unknown territory.

“I just wanted you to feel good,” you say, not really sure where to put your hands, despite them being occupied with her. “And I also... felt really good, Chaeyoung. It was special.”

She looks at you with those big eyes, as if the whole world is contained within the four walls of the bathroom. “I feel so lucky to have found you,” she says, her tone pure reverence. “It's so perfect it feels like a dream. I guess that's why I feel this need to hug you, to make sure you're real."

“Someone like me? Chaeyoung, you're amazing... And adorable. I'm nothing like that, I'm just a man.” She makes a doubtful face, but you continue. “I mean it. You have this... this thing that no one else has. You're genuine, do you know? No filters. It's rare to find someone like that. I'm the lucky one to have you here with me.”

She blushes, the steam from the shower intensifying the pink glow on her cheeks. “Do you really think that?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, without hesitation. “You know, maybe it took me a while to realize it... but yeah.”

She smiles shyly, that smile that suggests a mix of insecurity and hope. “I... I know I'm a bit weird. But I'm so happy that you like me like this, that you are not ashamed of me. I w-want to be with you.. I want to be with you forever!”

And it's at that moment that you feel the weight of those words.

Forever.

You know how amazing emotional that sounds. The idea of "forever" should make you back away, fill you with panic. But... it doesn't. Strangely, you don't feel that natural and immediate urge to run when a girl you barely know says something like that.

You look at her and, in that instant, accomplish something. Maybe that stupid prank your friends pulled on you dragged you into something you would've never chosen on your own. But, and here's the irony of fate, now it doesn't seem like a bad thing. Maybe, behind all the laughter and the initial confusion, something genuinely good has emerged.

You smile at her, a smile that starts light but turns into something bigger, something real. “You know, Chaeyoung... I think this whole thing... this mess... maybe it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”

She blinks, a little confused, but the smile never leaves her face. “What? What mess?”

You laugh, this time with genuine lightness. Of course, she has no idea what you're talking about. “It's hard to explain. But you... I think you're exactly what I needed.”

“We're like... you know what?" She leans in to give you a kiss. "Like ice cream and fries!"

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ice cream and fries?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Two things you wouldn't think go together, but when they do... it's perfect. Sweet and salty. Hot and cold. Like us.”

“Ice cream and fries, huh? I guess it makes sense... in a very Chaeyoung way of seeing things.”

“Exactly!” She pulls back a bit to look at you, her face lit up by a smile. “Maybe some people would say we're an unusual couple. But you know what's unusual? It's that these strange combinations end up being the best ones.”

Now you lean in, kissing her lightly on the lips. “You know what? That makes total sense.”

When you finally leave the bathroom and get dressed, the rain outside still taps against the window, rhythmic, like a reminder that the world keeps spinning. Chaeyoung puts on her pajamas - the ones she brought to "take care" of you - and, with a satisfied expression, throws herself onto the bed with a carefree joy.

You sit beside her, admiring her for a moment.

“Now,” she says, with that sudden excitement you're starting to recognize as her trademark, “we should watch Garfield! After all, you promised, remember?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

Of course she'd remember.

“All right. Let's watch Garfield.”

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