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amourcheol · 1 month ago

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agrodolce

❝Because you cannot create perfection without a little tension.❞

rivals to lovers! au | fluff | 27.5k words

s u m m a r y : one would expect being a dessert chef to be a life filled with sugary goodness, but nothing is sweet when working alongside boo seungkwan. when the two of you are forced to create a special dessert for the winter menu together, you think the restaurant will burn down. late night planning, shopping mall snooping, and a simple dessert might just save you from your expectations.

c o n t e n t : dessert chef! mc, dessert chef! seungkwan, rivals to lovers! au but i kept it tame so i didn't lose my mind, head chef! jeonghan who terrorises his employees, seungkwan is leading the sassy man apocolypse, flatmate! julie from kiss of life who wants to be santa, lots of mentions of italian desserts, lots of geographical London referencess, lots of bickering, little bits of tension, making out but no smut because im fearing god again, fluff obviously and overall just very winter-esque!!

p l a y l i s t : candy by seventeen || chocolate by seventeen || daawat-e-ishq by sajid-wajid || strawberry sunday by dojaejung

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @ourkivee @syluslittlecrows @ye0ppl @markhyuckbest @uhdrienne

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : this is not edited properly and for that i am sorry...so tired i fear but she is FINALLY done!! thank you @camandemstudios for inviting me to participate in this collab, i've enjoyed every moment of yapping and fighting over pixel cats <33 to alice and addy for listening to me complaing about this fic but seungkwan deserves sm love so i had to do my bit !! i hope you all enjoy and happy new year !! <3

back to masterlist

BEING BERATED BY A SUPERIOR WILL ALWAYS BE A HUMBLING EXPERIENCE.

Whether that be in school, when you are scolded for forgetting your homework, or gaining detention for arguing with your teacher. In the working world, it could be insufficient effort in a team project, perhaps your boss simply being a prick and wanting to make your life difficult.

Never did you think you would be sitting in front of your Head Chef, remnants of food stuck in your hair and clothing, a sheepish look plastered upon your face as you faced his imminent wrath.

You knew it was over for you—the man at the head of the office sat, sleeveless arms crossed, eyebrows knitted in rage at your dishevelled appearance, his feet tapping viciously under the desk. You never really considered your superior to be a particularly scary figure of power, but, in this light, if he made any sudden moves, there was a slim possibility you would scream.

You wondered whether begging for forgiveness was still on the table.

“Remind me, _____,” he finally said, sighing the words out, “How old are you?”

A part of you wished to remind him that he was not legally allowed to ask you that. You did not even know why he was asking such a question. Head Chef Yoon Jeonghan had known you for a long time now. He realised it too, but for another reason entirely. “No, scratch that. You’re an age where your brain has developed fully, right? I’m not wrong in assuming that you’re capable of knowing what’s right and what’s wrong?”

“Of course, Chef,” you answered, trying to find some self-assuredness in your voice. Difficult, in all honesty, when you were covered with salted butter and vanilla extract.

That seemed to be the wrong answer. “Then tell me why, _____,” he asked, agitation rising, “I caught you with your hands full of whipped cream, throwing it at a fellow chef.”

You attempted an explanation. “In my defence, Chef, you weren’t meant to see that.”

Jeonghan was not amused. “I’m surprised the entire restaurant didn’t catch your antics. If this incident happened during open hours I shudder to think what our customers would think.”

Reining in a sigh, you did not respond this time, positive that another dry quip from you would have your unemployment confirmed.

It was a little unfair, though. You were not the only one who was caught.

A drawl resounded from beside you. “I won’t be surprised if half our customers don’t already know what _____’s like.”

This particular chirp had your self-wallowing bubbling to a rage.

No, you were not the sole culprit, because as you whipped your head to the man who decided to voice his opinion at the wrong time, you caught the shit-eating glint in his eyes and nearly screamed the office down.

You could not stop yourself from crowing out, “Let’s not forget your 2018 meltdown over multiple tiramisu failures, Seungkwan.”

That had him scoffing harshly. “Always digging up incidents from years ago because you have nothing else to bring up.” His eyes hiked up and down your ruined uniform. “I can name your screw-ups starting today.”

“Oh, so I was just pissing about with all this food by myself then,” you snapped, gesturing towards his own mess. His hazel locks had the remnants of whipped cream too, matting his hair, whilst different coloured stains adorned his professional uniform, much similar to yours. However, you noticed he was much dirtier in appearance, which made your lips quirk upward in satisfaction.

He caught on instantly, to your distaste. “You were the one who couldn’t argue properly with me,” he accused. “No wonder you had to resort to childish gimmicks to get back at me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” A turn of your nose. “You look horrendous.”

“You’re no sight for sore eyes either.” He reached for the thick strands of his hair, matted together with whipped cream. “Do you even know how hard it is to wash off mascarpone?”

“I wouldn’t, actually, because you missed, remember?”

“Oh, you—”

“Enough!” Jeonghan declared, interrupting you two before any escalations occurred. “Not only were these gimmicks childish and immature, but also a huge waste on our ingredients. Mingyu’s estimated our stock for this week was cut down by 17%.”

Your surprise was exposed through the twist of your mouth. “That’s right.” Jeonghan sighed once again, many in his arsenal. “Both of your temper tantrums have cost the restaurant financially. Aside from the fact that I will be talking to my therapist about this incident.”

“Of course _____ wouldn’t care about the restaurant finances,” Seungkwan jeered, dusting off flakes of self-raising flour from his lap. “Nor your mental health.”

“I do care about your mental health, Chef,” you rebuked your colleague’s claim. “If I didn’t, then the stock would have plummeted another 25% at least. That’s why I didn’t touch the vintage dessert wines.”

“You do seem to have some sense then,” Jeonghan griped, no humour in his smile, “Because if you ruined the wines on Seungkwan I would have fired you instantly.”

Not a warning—a promise. Another one of his infamous sighs exhaled from his coral lips, which he brushed with his wandering fingers in thought. “You both…you both need to stop this. I mean it.”

“I will stop when she stops,” the man beside you asserted, glaring at you.

You matched his venom. “I will stop when he stops.”

“No, you both will stop, because I have had enough.” He locked his hands together, losing all amusement—as if there was any present in the first place. “Christmas period is approaching, and that means changing up the menu for the new quarter. These next couple of months will be incredibly busy, especially given the tourist season and school holidays in central.”

Glancing at the stack of papers on his desk, he set aside a few files, sliding out a particular piece and studying the details. “As you know, the main menu has been under alteration, but the dessert menu is still the same as the summer. I have already selected the majority of the confectionery, but there is still one more dessert I wish to add to the seasonal collection.”

He then set his sights on the two of you. “I need you to make this dessert. Hand me the plans for its creation, flavour variety, as well as its marketability in the restaurant.”

That had you sitting up in your seat. A creation of a dessert—it was something you had concocted in larger groups, back when you were a mere apprentice under Jeonghan’s wing at Camden Market. You had done seasonal dessert preparations for the spring and summer menus, but the winter menu selection was the most prestigious amongst the luxury restaurants within your borough. With locals flocking to central London, tourists from all corners of the world flying across oceans to stay in this beloved city, they wanted nothing more than seasonal excellence.

An exquisite dessert meant maintaining that expectation of perfection. A dessert was enjoyed at the end of the main meal, and—in your eyes—cemented the opinion of a customer on whether they would return to the establishment, or forget it ever existed. The treats you made left impressions on thousands, impressions you savoured everyday at work, and outside.

This may just be all your hard work paying off. Finally.

Before Jeonghan could continue, you nodded, all confidence. “I will be happy to accept this task, Chef.”

A snort sounded next to you, and your smugness faltered, replaced with irritation. “You have something to say?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said, folding his leg over the other, “I was wondering why you were piping up when Chef was asking me.”

This time, you were the one that laughed. “Your arrogance makes you look like a dumbass many times, Seungkwan. This is one of those times.”

He leaned in a little, nodding condescendingly along to your taunts. “Oh do I? I guess it’ll be your turn to look stupid today.”

“Both of you are looking stupid in front of me,” the boss interjected once more. “Because I wasn’t asking a specific individual.”

He raised his hands to the two of you. “I’m asking you both to work on this dessert inclusion. Together.”

You halted. Stilled in the stark, yellow lights of the grand office, evidence of Jeonghan’s success. Success which you have yet to taste on your own.

Success which, unfortunately, might have died with the words that left your superior’s mouth.

For the first time in a while, there was complete silence in the office.

Even Jeonghan found the notion hard to believe. “My God,” he uttered, twisting the corners of his mouth downwards, stunned. “Maybe I should have dropped this news before the food fight.”

You could only stare at the man in pure horror. “I would rather snap raw spaghetti and serve it to you before doing such a thing!”

Seungkwan let out a groan. “Here come the dramatics,” he muttered, but you heard it clear enough. “Anything to make a fuss and delay the business.”

Jeonghan perked up. “Oh, so you wouldn’t be opposed to it?”

A smile. “I’d kill myself before working with _____.”

Your huff of laughter had the boy scowling. “And he called me dramatic.”

“Enough!” was the final outcry from your boss, who seemed ready to overthrow the desk in pure frustration. “You two…” he shook his head, raking his slender hands through his long, black hair. “I don’t care.”

The younger attempted to fight his case to the end. “But Chef, this will be a disaster—”

You chimed in for the sake of interrupting, “This will cause the downfall of your restaurant—”

“I don’t care how you two feel,” his interruption was final, his head shaking still. “I don’t give a fuck, to be honest.”

Seungkwan’s mouth parted, but then heard the fuck, and decided against saying a word. You should have followed suit, but it was against your very principle to follow his example. “Chef, please,” you tried, almost pleading to be heard out. “Seungkwan and I have completely different palettes too. It’s not even about personal differences.”

“Again, that is a setback I don’t care about.” He stood up from his seat, and almost on instinct the two of you shot up from your chairs, remnants of cooked fettuccine falling from your dampened uniform pockets. The Head Chef took note of this detail. “This…this petty rivalry between the two of you is affecting the people around you now. Both of you are so talented, yet I have seen caffeine-crazed kids behave better than you during rush hours.”

He rested his hands on the table, his hard gaze razor-sharp. “You both have about eight weeks to hand me the final dessert plan on my table. If I receive two individual plans, or no plan at all, then I will fire you both.”

That was enough for balls to drop. You were fortunate to have none, so only assumed Seungkwan was the victim in this situation.

“Y-you can’t do that!” he exclaimed, and for the first time, you had to agree with him. A horrifying prospect. “We’re halfway through September now!”

“So?”

“You need me on desserts, Chef!” you declared, taking a more outraged stance on his statement. “What the hell will you do when there’s no one to make your amarettis?”

The man was still, face impassive. “I don’t care if you both are my best chefs. There are many big-eyed, desperate Masterchef rejects who will cut off their legs to be trained within this position.”

Whatever snide remark that almost escaped your mouth lodged itself in your throat. You wanted to feel special—like there was a place reserved only for you at the restaurant.

Now, because of one person, that position is threatened.

“This isn’t fair, Jeonghan,” you mumbled.

There was a pause. Then, “Don’t make me agree with _____.”

“Shut up.”

The boss took a turn from his desk, walking towards the door. “As I said,” he began, holding onto the handle, “You have eight weeks.”

He took one last glance at the two of you, a judgement akin to the one the scriptures warned about. “Don’t fuck this up.”

With that, he left his office with a final thud! of the door.

And as the weight of the decision finally settled on your shoulders, its pressure making them sag, you looked to the man whose employment rested in your hands—whose hands your employment rested on too.

The two of you scowled at the exact same moment.

If anyone was going to get fired, it would not be you.

THE RUSH HOUR OF THE UNDERGROUND TUBE SOURED YOUR ALREADY UNPLEASANT CONDITION.

The Northern line from Camden experienced a few closures, so that resulted in delays, consequently filling the already dingy underground area into a complete sardine-like squeeze. It was horrendous enough the place was like a cesspit of heat and sweat amongst all these commuters, but knowing you were going to be late was enough to worsen your mood.

You would have complained to your flatmate, but there was no service underneath—the entire commute resulted in staring down the people who held a seat in the jam-packed tube, when you were slotted against the sliding doors of the train. Holding onto the railings for dear life, you could only hope that your colleague had experienced an inconvenience as severe as you had (perhaps tripping over his dirty laundry—maybe even a car crash on the ring road? He could take his pick).

Once the tube finally reached Leicester Square, you could not struggle out of the train fast enough, tapping out your card and flying up the stairs in two-three steps. The Piazza of Covent Garden was not far away, but London was a city that never rested, and so the people were everywhere. Thankfully, you had mastered the art of moving out of the crowds with precision, so you arrived at your destination, only about five minutes late.

The columns of Covent Garden’s grand building welcomed your vision. There, nestled to the side with luxury outdoor seating splayed onto the cobblestone, was the Vita di Diamante—Jeonghan’s product of blood, sweat and tears for the world to admire. The Georgian-style front was painted an emerald green, white borders of the doors and windows making the restaurant glow in the soft winter sun. Customers were already queuing, even though doors were not to open for the next two hours. You could not help a small smile forming, chest swelling with pride.

Avoiding the front entrance, you hurried around to the side doors, this particular entrance already open thanks to Prep Cook Kim Mingyu, who offered a sheepish smile at your appearance.

“Oh no,” you said in greeting, quickly stepping past him as he closed the door. “What’s that look for?”

He chuckled, tightening his apron’s bow at the back. “Seungkwan’s been waiting at your station for thirty minutes.”

A curse escaped you, furthering his amusement. “How mad is he?”

“He shouted at me for the lack of ricotta in the pantry.”

You scrunched your brows in shame, widening your lips in a line. “That’s on me. I threw it at him the other day.”

Although he shook his head, he said, “Tell me it hit his face, at least.”

“Right on target.”

Hearing his laughter behind you, you dashed to the cloakroom, quickly changing into your uniform. Tossing your bag in the small lockers, you exited, finding yourself in the familiar surroundings of the dessert station.

From the last time you had been in this side of the kitchens, the place had been the victim of your vicious food fight with Seungkwan—stained with sauces, powdered with flour, and littered with different nuts and sprinkles from the pantry. Now, the floors and tables were spotless, all evidence of your petty rage disappeared into your memories.

Unfortunately, the cleaners could not make the sole reason for your anger disappear. He stood, back hunched to you, like a nasty stain upon your domain, refusing to be wiped away. You could not help your glower towards his figure, a small hope that you would develop lasers for eyes and smite him off the station.

“What’re you glaring at me for? You’re the one who’s late.”

Jerking your head back at his voice, you twisted your lips downwards, walking towards him. “You don’t know that,” you challenged, sneaking a look at what he focused on—a notebook, with scribbles written in black ink.

“I do, because you’re glaring at me as we speak.” He glanced up at you. “See?”

It was a little pitiful now, trying to school your face into neutrality. “Whatever,” you muttered, taking out your own notepad, setting it on the steel tops. “And for the late thing, rush hour spares no one.”

“Yet the entire staff managed to come early,” he said, a certain, condescending ease in his tone which made your glower darken. “We’re lucky that Jeonghan’s helping us with desserts in the next coming weeks, or we would have been screwed.”

“Jeonghan’s coming?” you asked, genuinely surprised. You were aware that he was trialling a few dessert apprentices to deal with the restaurant’s rush period, butyou did not expect the big boss to turn up at the stations.

“He wants us to focus on ‘team collaboration’,” he iterated, exaggerating the latter words in air quotes, “As well as ‘building our professional relationship’.”

“Jesus,” you could only say, dreading the near future for what it held for the two of you. Jeonghan was either the dumbest person to grace this restaurant, or enjoyed messing with his employees for work-place entertainment.

A glimpse of the clock. “We’re due for starting up in a couple of hours, so we better start thinking up ideas now.” You looked down at the pages of your notebook, a few ideas already jotted down that needed further exploration. “Since we’re only doing one dessert, this shouldn’t take us more than a week to decide.”

Seungkwan’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Yeah, if you’re just handing a scoop of gelato to them.”

That particular comment had you craning your head back. “You have to be braindead to take two months to come up with one item.”

“You must be putting anything in your customer’s plates then,” was his sour response, “To need only a week to create a luxury food.”

A sharp sigh escaped you. “What grand plans do you have for the public then?”

Picking up his notebook, he brushed a finger past the page. “Right…so we already have the standard tiramisu and gelato variations. We should definitely incorporate a sugary pastry since we’ve been lacking in the previous quarter.”

“Pastry,” you mumbled. He was talking pure, unadulterated shit. Chocolate bignè was the permanent item on the summer menu—little, indulgent profiteroles that melt into the taster’s mouth. Apart from that, the generic selection of cannolis and bomobolini doughnuts were already sold at the till within the cafe section outside, so another addition of the pastry was not needed.

Perhaps your thoughts projected upon your face, because the boy was incredulous. “And what’s so wrong about pastries?”

“It’s been done too many times.” You showed him the previous menu, which he had before him. “We should do something different.”

“And what would that ‘different’ be?”

You scoured your page, latching onto the words of strong flavours. “Stray from the sweets this time. I’ve been wanting to experiment with a few flavours, and I think that bitter amarettis will be big this winter.”

Mentioning the Italian macarons did not bode well. “Bitter amarettis? Are you insane?”

Instantly you crowed, “The Sarano branch is actually very popular ‘cause they’re smaller and easier to eat after a meal. We can flavour them with coffee or almonds.”

“No.”

The sudden dismissal was enough for you to argue your case. “It’s better than a goddamn doughnut!”

“Fine.” He clutched his notebook tighter. “Let’s drop the pastry. How about a pannacotta?”

Pannacotta—sweet cream dessert thickened and moulded with gelatin. Not your first choice, but its greatest advantage was its range of flavours that it accommodated.

You decided to try your luck once more. “We can do something with that.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking of any flavours that were not simply sugar sprinkled on cream. “I’ve experimented with bay leaves before. We can add one or two to add a lime-like essence.”

The man scrunched his nose at the notion. “My God. Were you thrown against the wall as a child?”

That morbid image had you scoffing. “I had an amazing childhood, thank you. Why are you so against it already?”

“Pannacotta is a sweet dessert, _____. I’m not adding fucking leaves on a delicacy.”

“Adding herbs on certain confectionery is actually a luxury trait. You learn this in culinary school.”

Once again, the idea was immediately cut for another. “We should add cinnamon to it.” He pointed towards his notebook. “A nod towards the coming Christmas.”

“Cinnamon?” you parrotted. “A sweet flavouring on an already sweetened cream? Do you want to rot our customers’ teeth?

“Oh, what do you suggest then?” He let out a harsh scoff. “Coffee for the millionth time?”

“Well, actually—” you were about to make an incredible point, but your partner began to groan, cutting you off. “Hey, coffee is versatile, and you know it!”

Seungkwan looked to the side, as if there was an invisible camera he could make a face to. “Here comes the anti-sweet agenda.”

Your sharp exhale was loud enough to gain his unpleasant attention. “If you had your way, all our customers would have type 2 diabetes!”

“Well sorry that I don’t want my customers as bitter as you are!” he exclaimed. “It’s beyond me how you became a dessert chef!”

“It’s called having range, dumbass!” you shouted right back, unwilling to relent. “My skills go beyond just dumping a load of sugar and calling it a dessert!”

He slapped his notebook on the desk, leaning in. “I said to have cinnamon because it’s bloody Christmas. My bad if you like to Grinch it up every year.”

“You want to show Christmas through cinnamon, huh?” You huffed a laugh in his face. “Wow, Seungkwan, how original! I might as well put a fucking christmas hat on top of our tiramisu. Fuck it, let’s start singing a Christmas carol while we serve it since you want to be on theme so much!”

Seungkwan’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want fucking leaves in a dessert.”

You matched his anger. “Well, I don’t want you in this process, but we can’t always have what we want.”

A tilt of his head, the locks framing his forehead sliding along. “I'm not dying to work with you either, dearest.”

Dearest. That pissed you off even further. “Then find a way to deal with it,” you seethed.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

You pursed your lips, at a loss for words. The man stared into the rising rage of your gaze, his own agitation reflected clearly. He was watching you intently, words dying on his lips, only inhaling and exhaling sharply. Had he been a few inches closer, his huffed anger would have fanned your face, truly taste how he felt about this entire situation.

But that was the last thing you wanted, and so you could only match his displeasure.

“I’m not losing my job because of you,” you warned.

His eyes darted all over your face before he deigned to reply to you. “And you think I want to be fired?”

The quirk of your mouth upwards had his nostrils flaring. “If you act like an asshole, Seungkwan, that’s exactly what you deserve.”

“Why do you get to be the judge of that?” he scoffed out.

“I won’t. Jeonghan will see through you soon enough.”

Oh, he was seething underneath that mask of irritation. If you had been any weaker, you would have crumbled under such a withering look. He did not have much to say anymore, thinking that knifing you with his glare would be enough to win this argument. Because he had you as an opponent, it was no easy feat—the two of you said nothing again, staring and staring with mouths parted, almost waiting for an insult to rise from their throats and strike any second.

Something might have struck—would have occurred under the flickering lights of the dessert station. Perhaps Seungkwan would have said something to make you succumb to your aggravation. Maybe you would have finally killed him.

“Already at each other’s throats?”

You and Seungkwan whirled your heads to the voice.

There stood Jeonghan, tapping his foot against the floor, arms crossed as he observed you two. “Standing this close, well…either you’re about to claw each other’s faces off or make out.”

The latter option had you and Seungkwan breaking out of your rageful bubble, repelling from each other like magnets of the same sides. The boy exhaled sharply through his nose, while you swiped up your notes, not even sparing your Head Chef with a glare. “You’re horrid.”

Seungkwan snorted. “I think I’d rather get punched.”

You directed that sour look back at the man who deserved it more. “You’ll have it coming if you keep at it.”

“If you both have wasted enough time fighting,” Jeonghan interjected, always the mediator, “Then let’s get on with it. I wanna hear your initial plans.”

“_____ will summarise,” The younger replied, before you could even begin. “I have to go in a minute.”

You made a face. “Where’re you running off to?”

He returned it. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have to pick up my niece and nephew from school. They have a half-day today.”

You could have rolled your eyes at him. “Is this allowed, Chef?” you demanded. “Something as important as the Christmas menu is being discussed, and he’s doing school duty.”

But Jeonghan overlooked your valid concerns, countering, “It’s all good, _____. Seungkwan asked for the half-day a week earlier.”

The said-man handed his notes to the superior. He could not help remarking, “Perhaps if you had bothered to be on time, then we could have fought out another dessert.”

As he exited, bidding his adieus to him, you reined in the temptation to stick his middle finger out. After all, it would have only landed behind his back—the bastard deserved to see it.

Your boss clicked his tongue at you as he walked over to where you stood. “Good to see you didn’t flip him off in front of me. At least you’re thirty percent professional.”

“Why did you give him the half-day?” This time, you could not restrain the eye-roll. “Sometimes I think he’s making those kids up.”

“_____!” He scolded, bringing Seungkwan’s notepad back on the surface. “I’ve met his niece and nephew, they’re very much real.”

“Or you could be in on the bit,” you jeered, leaning against the countertop. “Trying to piss me off on purpose.”

“Your self-importance astounds me. Not everyone is thinking about you.” A knowing look. “Even the man you happen to hate so much.”

“Well I hope he keeps my name out of his mouth. And his mind, for that matter,” you added for good measure, observing the very door the man departed from.

Jeonghan followed your line of sight. “You seem to have a hard time keeping his name out of your mouth though.”

Your accused mouth tightened at its allegations. “Are you on my side or his?”

He raised his hands in surrender, a grin breaking free from his lips. “Don’t drag me into your petty rivalry.” Pointing towards your notes, he then changed the subject. “Now, tell me about your rough plans.”

You obliged your boss, running down your initial prospects. He seemed satisfied enough, informing you that he will ask Seungkwan as well, and reminded you to prepare for the early customers.

As you prepared yourself for the open doors, prepping your ingredients alongside the Prep Cook, your thoughts wandered to the man who escaped this menial work, and then the eventual rush.

You and Seungkwan would not be able to create this dessert. Meeting in the middle would be impossible with someone as stubborn as him. Of course you wished to be successful, because that meant Jeonghan would not throw you out into the cobblestones of Covent Garden. You wanted this to go well.

A sharp breath exhaled from you. You could only hope that Seungkwan hoped the same, or else you would both are completely, utterly, inescapably fucked.

“HO HO HO!”

A sigh involuntarily escaped you. “One more ‘ho ho ho’ and I’m shooting myself in the head.”

“Hey!” The slender girl exclaimed, fixing her Santa hat upon her straight hair. “You know I need to perfect it for today.”

You looked beyond her figure to the shop, lit up with seasonal outfits on display. “You’re gonna get the role anyway, Julie, because no one else will be auditioning.”

The girl tried to push you in punishment, you narrowly dodging her dainty hand. “Go back to slaving away at Jeonghan’s restaurant.”

A mocked gasp left you. “Are you telling me to get back in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, so step on it!”

“I’m supporting you, though!” You reasoned. “There is no one in London who can pull off Santa Claus better than you.”

“And what about the world?”

You mocked a shrug. “There’s too many old white men to compete for that title, I fear.”

“See?” She clicked her tongue. “A real friend would lie to me and say I’m the best.”

Shaking your head at her antics, you could not help smiling at her. Julie Han was a fiery girl you had befriended in school, bonding over your terrible teachers in one after-school detention. Your paths had never strayed, establishing each other as flatmates when the two of you decided to pursue careers in the big city. Where you pursued luxury food, she sought after theatre and cameras, deciding to be an actress when she landed herself the role of ‘Juliet’ in Romeo and Juliet in primary school, and considered it destiny (she, however, did not have chemistry with her Romeo, because he kissed her like a ‘fish’. In her words, men who cannot kiss should not be romancing other actresses).

“I don’t get the Santa Claus obsession, though,” you wondered out loud. “There are other ways to help kids out.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas!” She waved her arms to the air, gesturing at the winter-themed fairy lights on the mall ceilings, twinkling with every ray of light that caught them. “It’s also adorable when the kids ask you for presents.”

“I think it’ll be cuter with a female Claus, too,” you pointed out. “I wouldn’t put my kid on any old man’s lap.”

“Exactly!” There was a moment of brief pause before Julie relented. “Also, the mall employees get a 50 percent discount on retail.”

“I knew your ass wasn’t feeling the Christmas charity spirit.”

The girl chuckled, looping her arm around yours. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot.”

“Of course!” You returned her grin with a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t gonna miss you screaming ‘Ho Ho Ho’ at every kid in M&S.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but could not contain her laughter. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to work today?”

That made your cheerful expression falter a little. “I was, but Seungkwan took the full day off today, so Jeonghan used it as an excuse to trial out the apprentices.”

“You know, I still need to meet this guy,” she said, glancing at the street food booths in the middle of the halls. “He’s the only man I know who genuinely makes you go batshit.”

“Don’t get me started again.” You rolled your eyes. “You know, he took his day off for his niece and nephew again. I’m telling you, he’s making these fucking kids up.”

Julie’s face twisted into concern. “Making up fake kids for a holiday is a little far-fetched, _____.”

“Keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, then,” you crowed at her, “I'm just gonna pretend you're method acting for Santa."

But she was persistent, asking, “When will you let me spread the Christmas charity to your nemesis?”

“Never, if I can help it.” You twisted your mouth. “I’m saving you the headache.”

“Why the headache?” Julie then gasped. “Is he ugly?”

You scoffed, looking ahead to respond when you stopped dead in your tracks.

Your friend, arm locked with yours, lurched backwards, whirling her head to you. Catching your expression had her demanding, “What the hell?”

But you were not listening to her, because your eyes landed on the very man you were bad-mouthing mere seconds ago. It was insanity how you recognised him, when his face was half-hidden from his signature oversized scarf—the three-metres of red fabric which always irritated you for some irrational reason (possibly because you were always cold, and the stupid, awful scarf always seemed so warm). His black trench-coat covered his slender figure, his hair ruffled, the after-effects of a beanie situated upon them.

Those details were still not important—completely useless when the most prominent addition was a woman beside him, laughing at his quip.

Shit. You did not waste any time.

“_____?” your friend called out, only to be met with your sudden turn on your heel, as, with her ungracious yelp, you hauled her inside the nearest shop, nearly crashing into the mannequins. “Jeez, if you wanted to go inside Zara so badly, then you should have just said!”

As you hid behind the retail giant’s new winter collection, you observed, a little further away, the two people strolling without a care in the world. You noticed how the man was carrying all the shopping—stores from high-street to designer, which had your eyebrow raising—whilst the woman was pointing towards different stores, perhaps scour all of Westfield if she could help it.

A frown marred your lips.

Seungkwan said he was assisting his child-aged niece and nephew—you did not remember said-niece and nephew being one adult woman.

“He’s on a fucking date,” you seethed.

Julie, now hiding beside you, tried to find whoever it was that you were glaring at. “Who’s on a date?”

“Seungkwan!” you exclaimed, pointing at him through the mannequin’s arm. “The prick with the red scarf.” But he and his company had walked past Zara, nearly leaving your field of vision. “Wait, we gotta move.”

The poor girl, who was once again hauled up, and now being led out of the store, tugged at your arm. “What are we doing?” she asked. “Why are you still talking about him?”

“Because he’s there!” You jerked your head towards him and his lady-friend. “Look!”

A sharp breath drew from your friend. “Oh my God! Speak of the dessert devil, huh?”

“Exactly! So we’re following him.”

That had Julie stopping the chase, thus stopping you. “Why the hell are we doing that?”

“To catch him out on his terrible excuse!” you explained, tutting at your friend’s inability to understand the drastic nature of this situation. “I need to see the look on his face when I catch him making the rounds on H&M’s winter collection.”

For some unimaginable reason, the girl did not seem so enthusiastic. “My interview’s in thirty minutes, _____.”

You scrambled for any lame excuse. “This will distract you from your interview nerves!”

“I haven’t gotten any interview nerves.”

“Well, you should because your voice cannot go ‘Santa Claus’ deep.”

Julie nudged you with her interlocked arm, shaking her head. “Now I’m scared, so fuck you.”

“You're very welcome.” You ticked your head towards your target. “Let’s go.”

As you two began your possibly illegal, certainly socially unacceptable activity, a certain rush thrummed within your veins, as if you had taken something for the exhilaration. Seeing your colleague declare one thing to you, yet do something entirely different—and then to witness it with your own eyes—felt like a scene out of a ridiculous rom-com. He was taking this girl everywhere, offering his opinions on certain collections on display in whatever shop they passed, loud enough for you to hear. Of course, it was expected from someone as opinionated as him—you were not surprised in the slightest.

“All the time in the world for his kids, huh?” you muttered, sporting a grin which would have had criminals running for the hills.

Even Julie was spooked. “You really are rooting for his downfall, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

The two people you tailed went inside the White Tiger, and it was at this point as, when you made to enter the strange shop, you were stopped by your friend. “I’m gonna leave you here.”

“What?” You tugged on her arm. “You still have fifteen minutes.”

She sighed. “If I tank in my audition, just know I’m going to your restaurant and telling this Seungkwan that you had a wet dream about him.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s diabolical.”

Her growing smirk had you widening your eyes. “I’ll do you an even better one. If you don’t let me leave I’m calling Seungkwan here and telling him we were stalking him.”

That had your blood running cold. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You don’t think so?” She turned her face forwards, shit-eating expression furthering.

She then parted her mouth, making your heart stop.

“Seungkwan!”

“What the—” You instantly grabbed her arm, aiming to cover her mouth when she waved off your hands, her grin chilling you to your bones. “Oh my fucking God—!”

“Hey, Seungkwan!” Julie shouted once more, louder this time. You knifed her with a vicious glare, but then she waved her hand, and you whirled your head to where she greeted.

Your face contorted in pure horror as you watched Seungkwan look over his shoulder, slowly turning himself.

What you did next was completely out of your control.

It was your legs that suddenly held the reins, dashing into the shop beside your friend, hiding behind the racks of clothing. Your heart beat as if you had run an Olympic sprint, pounding in your ears, and your mouth repeatedly cursed the girl who had instigated all this, praying she embarrassed herself in her audition—perhaps screaming Whore, whore, whore! instead of the classic jingle. You did not think of the logistics, too enraged and embarrassed to think up a solution.

Despite the chaos of customers shopping, the swishing of clothing amongst the racks, and the robotic beeping of cash registers, you peeked through the burgundy cardigans you hid behind, catching the very man you wished to avoid walking up to your friend.

His voice could be heard from your makeshift sanctuary, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, did you call for me?”

Julie kept glancing at the shop you hid in. She tried her hardest to restrain her smile as she said, “I did, actually! This is so weird, but my name’s Julie. _____’s friend.”

You could not mistake it—the realisation striking in his eyes, as they widened, ever so slightly. His mouth parted, then the corners of his lips curled upwards, and suddenly you could have been made of dread and anguish and every fearful emotion a person was capable of feeling.

Seungkwan was going to eat you alive.

“_____?” He repeated, and the amusement that dripped off your name had you wishing all men perished. “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to see a friend of _____’s.”

He raised his hand out, and Julie reciprocated, shaking it thoroughly. “I wouldn’t have expected an answer like that from you, actually.”

“Is that so?” the man quirked his mouth in a side-smile, all mischief and whimsical. “Maybe I’m fixing my manners for a pretty girl, then.”

“Oh!” she brought a hand to her chest, her smiling losing all mischief, turning more genuine. “She didn’t tell me you were such a charmer.”

You had to bring a hand to your mouth, aghast. The bitch is being fooled! “I’m not surprised by that in the slightest.” He let out an uneasy chuckle. “I hope you don’t believe the impression she’s made of me.”

“I’ll try not to be swayed,” she promised, sneaking another glance at your hiding place. Although she had not caught your eye, you glared at her for being so obvious. “Though I will admit, I haven’t heard great things.”

“I’d be shocked if I heard anything positive,” he remarked. “_____, she…” He tugged his lip between his teeth. “I won’t say it cause she’s your friend but…”

“Yeah, nothing too crazy, please,” she warned, “Because then I’d have to tell her, she’d go all ballistic on you, and then she’d complain to me. I can’t deal with this soap opera.”

“Soap opera?” he said, scoffing. “God, I can’t even complain, it’s EastEnders everyday in that damned kitchen.”

Julie laughed. “Now I know my friend loves a bit of drama, but surely she’s not the one in the wrong every time?”

But Seungkwan tilted his head, squinting his eyes as if considering a completely different opinion. “And yet she’s the one throwing food in my face.”

That had your friend glancing at you through the shop window, a second-long judgement. You glared at her to turn away, she obliging with a shake of her head. “Well…I suppose I can’t defend her against that.”

His winning smile irked you to the bone. “Exactly.”

You knew from Julie’s sheepish scratch of her neck that there was no convincing him, and had unintentionally proved his point. A soft groan escaped you, about to hold your head in your hands. Must bully her about this later.

The need to torture her for the rest of her miserable, Santa-adoring life worsened when he looked beyond her frame, a questioning twist of his mouth forming. “Am I crazy, or was _____ here with you?”

The girl’s helpless, a million-emotions-a-second expression once again exposed the guilt Seungkwan waited patiently for, and latched onto. “Huh. So I’m not crazy.”

“She just left,” Julie explained, looking down at her boots. “She had the whole dessert thing to think up, prepare for…you know, the reason you guys are yelling at each other.”

“Such dedication to her work!” he praised, but even she could recognise the patronising tone, directed at you from afar. If he had caught onto the fact that you were hiding from him, you might as well throw yourself off the highest floor in this mall.

The condescension had the girl ticking her head. “She is, though. Why else would she be fighting for her preferences?”

Seungkwan stared at your friend, sliding his hands in his pockets. “I guess you’re right,” he relented, which had you frowning behind the clothing. Given up so easily?

You could not ponder over it further, because the man looked over his shoulder, no doubt realising he had left his mysterious companion behind. “You must excuse me, Julie,” he said, “But it was really good to meet you, truly.”

He held his hand out, which, surprised, your friend shook, lightening up. “You too, Seungkwan.”

As he let go, turning on his heel, you just managed to catch the smirk on his face, hidden from Julie. “You tell your friend I said I missed her here.”

And off he went, catching her off-guard, and kickstarting your irritation as he strolled back to his date.

Once you were sure he was out of your distance, you stood, avoiding the flurry of winter clothing, keeping your head down in slight shame at knowing quite a few shoppers had seen you hiding out behind the railings. Another unprecedented consequence of knowing Seungkwan.

Quickly you hurried to your friend, who turned to you, pointing her thumb in his direction. “Oh my God.”

“‘She had this whole dessert thing to prepare for’?” you greeted, hands on your hips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d realise you were here!” She kept a finger to her chin, thinking over possible escapes. “I mean, I don’t think he saw you in Zara? You hid better than I thought, honestly.”

“Shit.” You brought your fingers to your temple, scraping against your skin. “And why did he agree with you on me being dedicated?! Fake-ass.”

Julie then raised a brow. “You’re overthinking it. I am right. Him being passionate about his work doesn’t change the fact that you’re dedicated to it too.”

You could only grunt in agreement, glancing back to see him a mere speck amongst the sea of Christmas shoppers.

Although it was a fool’s hope, you wished that he would not bring up this incident tomorrow.

THE MOMENT YOU STEPPED INTO THE KITCHENS, HE WAS WAITING FOR YOU.

Not that you were afraid of him—at the end of the day, he was just a man with a small apron and a bad attitude, and you were not letting him get the better of you.

Except your heart was pounding like an echoing gong, hair standing on the back of your neck. Even your palms were sweating, you flexing and unflexing your hands in distraction. Seungkwan was behind the large commercial hob, cooking something in a pot when he looked over his shoulder, beholding your unnerved presence.

For the first time since he started working alongside you, he offered you a smile.

You could have taken the pot and flung the contents on his head.

“Good morning, _____!” he chirped, the smile widening when you instantly gritted your teeth. “Well rested?”

“Morning,” you replied curtly, tying your apron behind your back. “And yes.”

“Very good,” he asserted, mixing the contents of the pot. He wasted no time in the next question. “How was your weekend?”

“Alright.”

“Oh, was it? Go anywhere?”

Shit. “Shopping.”

“What a coincidence!” he exclaimed, as if you had revealed the secrets of the universe to him.”I went shopping too.”

“So does everyone and their mothers on the weekend, Seungkwan,” you monotoned, hoping he would take the hint.

He took the hint, of course, but chose to disregard it completely. “My weekend was excellent,” he insisted, tapping the wooden spoon against the pot’s rim, draining out the residue. Making caramel, then. “I went to Westfield yesterday. Very fun, I’ll say.”

I bet it was, prick. “Is that so?”

“It was so,” he parroted, like the bastard he was. “I actually happened to meet your friend there!”

Your sigh could have had a laugh rasping out of him. “Which one?” you merely asked, feigning innocence still.

A snort. “Don’t pretend you have more than one friend, _____.”

Ouch. “Don’t pretend to know everything about me,” you huffed.

“Fair enough. I happened to meet Julie.” Satisfied with the slow melting of the sugar and butter, he finally focused on you, leaning against the hob. “Lovely girl, by the way.”

“I know.” You shot him a look. “So?”

“She told me that you were with her this entire time!”

It took every atom of your strength to not react to that statement. “I was.”

“Then tell me…” He made to walk towards you, the only boundary between you two being the huge island tabletops. “How come I was so unlucky to miss you yesterday?”

You clenched your jaw. “I left before she saw you.”

“Left?” he inquired, hand resting on the countertop. “You see, I remember it more as running away the moment she called after me.”

A Jesus Christ slipped out of you before you could help yourself. Instantly you repelled from his walking figure, hurrying to check the sizzling which had increased. The sauce was forming. “What’d you need this for?”

“Caramel Budino. Don’t dodge the question.” You could feel his gaze on you. “Why did you run away from me?”

You took the spoon set on the side, stirring. “I didn’t run away.”

“Yes you did,” he countered immediately. “I saw you bolt into Zara as if they had a closing down sale.”

“Maybe I was excited about their Black Friday deals,” you asserted, sparing him an irritated glance.

His accusatory stare had you looking back at the pot. “Don’t bullshit with me, _____,” He finally stepped past the countertop. “My God. You were stalking me, weren’t you? You and your friend?”

“What—no!” you denounced. “How can you think that?”

He was not four feet from you now. You tried not to look at him; somehow, in the most bothersome of ways, his eyes were unnerving you—as if you had committed some crime, and were now caught red-handed fleeing the scene. Well, you were caught fleeing the scene, but you thought you had escaped the consequences.

But you had not escaped shit, and now you had to shrink under this bastard’s malicious, victorious scrutiny.

“Then why did you run away?” he asked you, all quiet.

The strange hush of his voice had you blurting out an unexpected response. “Because I think you’re a bloody liar.”

Finally, you mustered the strength to face him—his confusion had you continuing. “You took the day off yesterday, right? For your niece and nephew? Well I didn’t see these so-called nieces and nephews, but a woman I had never met, or seen, even!” You then scoffed. “I was lucky to catch you red-handed, actually, because I was going to work the closing shift!”

As Seungkwan took in your sudden accusation, craning his head back the further your words attempted to strike true to his pride, he found himself trying to contain a smile. His self-respect was completely intact from your attacks—the more you spoke, the more he was abashed, not quite believing what he heard from your mouth.

He caught onto what you considered the most irrelevant detail from your outburst. “You…you thought I was on a date?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “And you lied about it!”

But he began to chuckle, and you swore you could have seen red. “Why would I be lying?” he merely asked, hand on his white-cottoned chest.

“To—” but then you stopped yourself. Not everyone is thinking about you. Even the man you happen to hate so much. You pursed your lips, Jeonghan’s words striking your mouth shut.

Seungkwan, of course, would not let you keep him in such suspense. “To what?” he demanded, lips parted. “The one time I don’t want you to shut up, and you go mute on me!”

That was enough for you to explode. “To get out of working with me!”

That had him jerking his head back. He squinted his eyes slightly, genuinely stunned, and you knew then and there that you had assumed completely wrong.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Jesus Christ, _____,” he began, and the beginnings of his god-awful, self-pleasing laugh was back, aching your ears and flustering your attitude. “You thought…you thought I was avoiding you? Like, some kind of bullied victim?”

You instantly rebuked him, stammering, “W-well, that’s not what I meant—”

“You really are self-centred, aren’t you?” he mocked. “You believe that all you want, sweetheart, but you don’t scare me like that.”

“I didn’t mean scared, asshole,” you sneered. “I meant hate.”

He put a hand to his hip, leaning against the hob. “Hate?”

“Yes, hate!” you clarified sarcastically, but you did not know why you began to sound absurd. Suddenly, you were the child, and he was the adult playing along to your antics. “Isn’t that what this all is?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he dared another step towards you. The shuffling of his clothes against the countertop were the only sounds in the room—that, and the sizzling of the caramel. “Do you…do you really hate me?”

Your brain screamed at you to step away from him. Who was he to come this close to you? Who was he to ask you questions that were meant to stay unanswered?

He seemed hell-bent, however, to break unspoken rules. “I asked you a question, _____. Do you truly hate me?”

Although his mouth twisted in a hard smile, almost condescending, his eyes revealed a completely different sentiment. It was strange, so incredibly unsettling, that you knew the difference between what his words spoke, and what his face exposed. You were not meant to understand him like that.

But you did, and that scared you.

“Do you?” you muttered, barely audible. If he was not so close, he would not have heard you.

His gaze flickered all over your face. Your inquisitive eyes, your flared nostrils, your mouth, now parted, inhaling, exhaling. His own lips broke, you catching the grit in his teeth, as if mulling over the options—as if there were options to consider.

Your breath shuddered. “Seungkwan?”

He was not answering you, still staring. What was on your face that fascinated him to this extent? You were not so sure, but still, he did not say a word, merely choosing to relish in your agitated features. Your skin thrummed at his stare, the close proximity of his body. Why was it so hot?

The air around you, that is—not his body. Not that you were thinking of it—the forearms that were exposed from rolling his sleeves, the sliver of his collarbone from two buttons undone at the top of his shirt.

“Yes?”

Back on his face—his mouth. "I, uh…" you got out, trying to remember how to speak. "I asked you something.” What was the blasted question again?

A slight, minute dip of his head. “I know.”

He had to stop. What you should have done was leave the room—cease this madness.

You only prolonged it. “Do you hate me?”

Another silence, and you were going to die. Collapse in this goddamn kitchen, and this creature of a man would be your only witness.

He then ghosted the slightest smile on his lips, and you hung onto its movement. “I would have loved to…”

He dared a little closer—any more and he would brush your mouth. “But then I realised you don’t.” Your change in expression had his ghost-like smile sparking to life. “So I can’t either.”

You did not know why the answer pissed you off. “How can you be sure of that?” you seethed. “I can hate you as much as I want.”

“Hmm, no, you can’t.” His eyes were not boring into yours—only at your mouth, too damn close. “Because you don’t know me well enough to hate me.”

You tilted your head back, enough to gauge—or at least attempt to figure out the undecipherable expression on his face. This close, you understood why the customers stared at him, even double-taken at every peek they could manage through the kitchen windows.

The man was a little beautiful this close, and this realisation haunted you.

Your mouth tried to release something, a refusal to his claim, but any counter died on your tongue. How well did you really know him? Sure, you were certain that he was a pain in your arse, but what of the man behind the sordid comments, the constant judgement? How much did you know of the man outside of the boundaries of Vita di Diamante? Hell, your lack of information had you second-guessing whether he even was lying about the kids.

(Though you refused, even now, to give him the benefit of the doubt. For all we know, the kids are either a long-running joke, or Seungkwan’s demons).

Despite all that, his truth was inescapable—solid and present and impossible to deny. You despised him for the entirety of your acquaintance, but did not even bother to know your supposed nemesis.

Somehow, even after yesterday’s shitshow, this realisation was far more embarrassing than anything you had ever experienced.

The supposed nemesis watched you discover these revelations, the corners of his lips curling upwards. It was so awful how he understood perfectly, and was now basking in this victory.

The realisation stunned you so intently you did not grasp the screech-like crackling right next to you. Once the smell of the burnt caramel engulfed your nose, you blinked back, turning to the pot which now looked like brown, volcanic magma after it loses its colour. Instantly you turned the switch off, turning on the exhaust, the smell of the burnt sugar, after realising its presence, now making you ill. Seungkwan only watched you fumble at the stove, finally taking a step back. With that, you were able to breathe.

Your ammunition was ready. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

He took it surprisingly well. “I’ll clean it,” he said, taking the pot and setting it to the side. “It is my fault, after all.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “You’re taking responsibility for your actions?”

A glimpse towards you. “I told you, didn’t I? You don’t know me.”

That had you shutting up immediately.

Seungkwan looked at the clock, realising that the restaurant was about to open. Then his eyes settled on you. “I still can’t believe you stalked me.”

You made a face. “That was not stalking. Well, not the scary kind,” you clarified, which did not make your case any stronger. “And anyway, you still haven’t denied the whole date thing, which means you were lying.”

Dusting away at his apron, he made to walk to the backdoor, about to call for Mingyu to help with ingredient preparation. You thought he was going to outright ignore you, but then he faced you, a certain smile on his face that you could not unravel.

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

And he was off, leaving you even more baffled than you were the first time you accused him.

ANOTHER WEEK PASSED AT THE RESTAURANT, AND YOU WERE GOBSMACKED TO SEE A SEMBLANCE OF PROGRESS.

One would think that the strange incident in the kitchens would have been talked about further, but Seungkwan made no mention of it—and him making no mentions meant you would cut off your tongue and turn it into a French delicacy before talking about it either.

Though you wish he had at least made one comment.

Never before had you felt so…you did not know how to interpret it, but it was clearly something awful. The man had been an entity you had hated, but you wondered whether the emotion was rendered useless after such a heated conversation. It was so stupid, absolute insanity how you could not stop thinking about the proximity of his frame, his breaths fanning your lips, his questions that turned your entire opinion of him on its axis.

You don’t know me well enough to hate me.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath.

Though you were cursing yourself, Seungkwan—who was beside you, experimenting on a particular chocolate pudding—took some offence. “What’re you mad about this time?”

Whirling your head to him, you were ready to give him a piece of your delirious mind when you caught the scene before you.

You were already aware he was creating a variation of the Bonet—chocolate, coffee, and rum, mixed and whipped to perfection alongside the core ingredients. He opted to swap the coffee for cinnamon, much to your exasperation. He had already heated his mixture in a not-burnt-to-a-crisp caramel sauce, cooked in a bain-marie—a process of melting chocolate-like mixtures under another pot of boiling water.

His almost-dessert done, he only had the sprinkle of cacao powder to add to the final product, standing in perfect confidence in front of him. You admired the chocolate excellence, mouth already watering at seeing the soft, textured edges of the pudding. The amaretti macarons at the top contrasted the glaze of the darker chocolate, reflected the lights of the kitchen, and you had to stop your work for the customers, simply admiring the dessert your partner had created.

Sometimes you forgot that Boo Seungkwan was a born chef.

He was also a born pain in the ass. “If you can eye-fuck my Bonet, _____, then you can compliment it, too.”

Snapping out of the awe-filled haze, you twisted your mouth. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing you’ve made in this kitchen.”

“You’re right, actually, because the worst thing in this kitchen was made by your hands.”

Boo Seungkwan—the man who, despite your conflicting thoughts over last week, still managed to rile you into a frenzy. You could have cursed him outright, but this week’s apprentice, Wen Junhui, rushed into the room, bearing the role of Kitchen Porter. “There’s more orders for tiramisu!” He informed hurriedly, bringing a further three-dozen eggs upon the busied countertops.

You looked up to the poor, clueless man. “You do realise you don’t have to take orders, right? That’s the waiter’s job.”

“Jun, here.” Seungkwan patted to the space next to him. “Help me whip some eggs.”

The apprentice obliging instantly, he began cracking eggs on the side of the bowl, setting himself to work. The man in charge with you focused once more on his creation, adorning a proud smirk as he brought out a long spoon next to him. “We should do a Bonet for the final dessert,” he suggested, cutting a small corner.

“Of course you’ll say that now,” you said. “Oh, and just so you know, I’m never accepting it with cinnamon.”

You watched him raise the spoon, assuming he would take a bite. He then paused, flitting his gaze to you.

He then changed direction, swinging the spoon ever so slightly—offering it to you. “Go on.”

You looked at it as if you had never seen a spoon before in your life. “You take a bite first,” he clarified. “I need to stamp out this anti-cinnamon agenda once and for all.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you challenged. Taking the spoon from him, avoiding his fingers, you observed the spongy portion before bringing the cutlery’s bowl to your mouth.

The moment the Bonet touched your tongue, it was chocolate heaven—chocolate bliss of the highest order, the cacao flavour merging along with the rum, sparking your senses to life. The most surprising factor was the dreaded cinnamon, spreading its infectious, sugary goodness along your taste buds. It was a small bite, but the chef had packed the sweet universe into a few millilitres, showing you a world where a life could be good and beautiful without any semblance of bitterness.

Seungkwan watched your reaction, his smug smirk widening. Bringing the spoon out, you could not help the hum that escaped you, and it made him bite his lip, restraining his chuckles. “See?”

Even still, you attempted to crush his spirits. “I hate it?” you offered, not even convincing yourself.

The leash on him snapped, huffing out a round of laughter that had you setting the cutlery down. “I suppose you’ll not want another bite, then,” he said.

“Nope,” you lied. You found a clean spoon on the table, offering it to him. “You finish it off.”

The new offering was rejected. “Just give me yours.”

“But I used it.” A tilt of your head. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He jutted out his lip, shaking his head slightly. “Just more dishes to clean. A waste, no?” He gestured with his hand to beckon the old one back. “Pass the other one over.”

“Oh-kay,” you dragged out, handing over the original. With that, he scooped a bite from the Bonet, this time incorporating the little amaretti alongside.

Your focus trained on him, you watched as he brought the bite to his mouth, his lips closing over the spoon. His reaction was more subdued—unsurprising since it was your first time trying his variation, but nonetheless satisfied as he hummed, closing his eyes. Your eyes took in the sight of him sliding out the spoon from his mouth, his tongue gliding over the silver to lap up the remnants of the chocolate, stubborn to remain. Your cheeks burned at the sight, almost as if you should not be watching. The moment he bit into the amaretti, the crunch against his teeth had you hitching in a breath, as if his mouth, his teeth, had grazed over your mouth, sunken into your skin.

You blinked back.

Seungkwan, who had finally opened his eyes, the sensations now subsided, caught your dazed out countenance. He knitted his brows.

God, you were losing your mind. “Your slobbering was horrendous,” you mocked instead.

He only shrugged, setting the spoon back on the table. “I don’t waste a thing,” he said, licking his lips—wiping any remnants of chocolate left.

You watched that too—his tongue, which now slid back into his mouth. Another rush of blinking, a sharp sigh, and you caught the ghost of a smile on him. “You should focus on the orders.”

Bastard. “Y-you focus on yours! Instead of wolfing them down!” you exclaimed pathetically. You shot up from where you leaned at the countertop, focusing on the three rounds of Tiramisus ordered.

Hearing his chuckling behind you had you souring further, face akin to a bonfire, but your mood was soon distracted from the last-hour rush of orders. With Junhui helping the two of you, the round of desserts being created were more effortless, plates of every kind of pudding, gelatos and cakes and pastries leaving your kitchens. The final thirty minutes were more subdued, potential customers understanding that this was no longer the place to dine, and must find sustenance elsewhere.

Once the time was out for the restaurant’s closure for the day, you thought to close up, already commencing to help the apprentice tidy away the remaining ingredients. Then Jeonghan entered the station, a new, clean apron wrapped around his out-of-work attire. He was set on Seungkwan, pointing towards him. “You,” he began, beckoning him over. “You got a special guest.”

You narrowed your sight on the man, but his face instantly lit up. That only added to your confusion. Special guest? “Tell her to sit at the reserved table,” he only said, washing his hands off the flour and butter. “I’ll be right over.”

Watching him rush his usual clean ups, even leaving out a few objects for dessert preparation, you walked up to him, hands on your hips. “Who’s this special guest?” you inquired, his back to you.

Looking over his shoulder, he shook off the excess water from his hands. “You’ve seen her before.”

“Huh?” you could only get out, but a moment of thinking had you sucking in a breath. “Wait, you brought your date here?!”

A scoff escaped him, shaking his head. “It’s about time you see the woman who’s bothering you so much.”

“What?!” You glanced at the long, open window of the restaurant layout, where you could spy the seating. “I can’t do that! You’re making this much weirder than it needs to be.”

“Well, why not?” He stepped past you, grabbing hold of a tea towel. “And remind me, who stalked me for this very information?”

“That was—!” You attempted, but then quietened, realising you could not win that argument. “Piss off.”

He huffed out a laugh at your response, jerking his head towards the entrance to the main hall. “Come on,” he merely said, walking towards the door. “You can weasel your way out of it to her.”

You wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away from this entire situation—Seungkwan was exploiting his position to use the restaurant as his date-place, and you had managed to trap yourself into this precarious position.

Despite that, you let your curiosity get to you—yes, it killed the cat, but you were different. Better than that stupid creature.

Hesitantly, you followed behind as he left the kitchens, weaving his way around the dozens of tables. You caught sight of the mysterious woman, her back to you, but it was not her voice that greeted you first.

Two voices yelped out instead at seeing Seungkwan—voices which were shrilled, higher-pitched, as if they belonged to children.

You stopped walking as the surprises revealed themselves.

“Uncle Seungkwan!”

Two young children—a boy and girl, no more than 11 years old—came running towards your colleague at full speed, nearly bumping against the furniture without a care in the world. You did not see his face, but he must have been smiling, because a delighted oh! escaped him, and his arms were out. He barely had time to raise them before the two kids collided against him, making him stumble back, balance shaky, and you instinctively took a step back, in case he bumped into you. Everyone was laughing in that strong hold, the man’s arms wrapped tightly around them, and your eyes softened without realising.

This was a different Seungkwan. A Seungkwan you had not witnessed—perhaps not been allowed to witness, possibly by your own accord.

So engrossed by the heartwarming sight, you did not realise the initial woman you planned to see had gotten up from her seat, walking over to the group. “All of you hugging as if you didn’t meet two days ago,” she remarked, a hand on a nearby chair.

“Don’t get mad because they like me more,” he crowed, glancing at her before ruffling the children’s hair. “Isn’t that right, kids?”

“Yes!” they both exclaimed in agreement, causing the woman to shake her head.

She then noticed you behind him, perking her head up. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she stepped past the group, a glance at him. “I didn’t realise you were there.”

That had you scratching the back of your neck—perhaps curiosity made points killing the cat, cause you felt the great urge to die on the spot. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m—” you cleared your throat, a slight suspicion about this whole situation rising in the crevices of your mind.

Seungkwan chipped in for you, realising your mouth was not working. “This is _____. The partner,” he clarified, and you paused at seeing a knowing look on the woman’s face. “And this….”

He then looked at you. “This is Jinsoul. My sister.”

Oh. Good. God.

His introductions extended to the two children. “My very real niece and nephew, Sohyun and Sojung.”

Your mouth parted at the comment, completely abashed. You were not given more time to ponder on his audacity, because his sister—God, his fucking sister, all this time— held her hand out, immediately greeting you with a smile. “It’s so good to meet you!” A glance at him. “I feel like I know you already.”

“Is that so?” you chuckled out, nerves now rising.

“Of course!” She let go of your hand after a hearty shake. “Seungkwan talks about you all the time.”

The said-man gaped at her, instantly souring at the reveal before chiding, “Your antics have reached my family’s ears, yes.”

You would have glared at him if you were not still humiliated. “Then I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” you admitted.

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” She leaned on the chair. “I just assumed it was Seungkwan’s fault.”

The apparent culprit huffed. “If you wanna side with her so badly, she can make your free dinner.”

But the woman only shrugged, leading her children over to you. “Alright then. Nobody wanted your ass cinnamon rolls anyway.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan twisted his lips into a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

With their mother’s encouragement, the children waved their hands in introduction. “Nice to meet you!” the two chirped in almost-unison, the boy who said it a second too late looking away in embarrassment. You could not help waving back, smiling at them.

Once done with that, she finally answered him. “I am, actually—” a glance down at her watch, inhaling through her teeth— “And am running late, shit.”

“And you said we couldn’t use that word,” the boy—Sojung—grumbled, fixing his beanie.

“Well I’m a mother in a hurry, sweetie,” Jinsoul reasoned. She faced her brother. “We’ll try coming here, but if we run a little late, then you come ‘round, alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he only said, giving her a quick side-hug before waving her off with a flick of his hand. “Now go away.”

“Alright, damn.” Pressing a kiss to her children’s cheeks, she offered you a beautiful smile—a striking similarity to her brother’s. “If these kids are being a bother, this big ass one included—” a shove towards him— “You let me know.”

You could not help it, returning her mirth. “I’ll steal his phone and call you.”

Her smile was positively mischievous. “I like you already.”

With that, she bid her goodbyes one more time, you stunned from her little declaration—her words, and why that had your heart swelling. With Jinsoul leaving, you tried to focus back on the niece and nephew, who were not Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s running joke, but real and alive and in front of you.

The former, who was watching your shock, snapped you out of it as he focused on the youngest. “Right, you two,” he began, pointing towards their seats, ”Tell me what you want.”

“What’re you making us this time?” Sojung asked, instantly settling himself down, already giddy at the prospect of food.

“Don’t listen to Mum!” Sohyun chimed in, following after her brother, sitting on one knee as the other leg dangled over the seat. “We’ll have the cinnamon rolls.”

“Seungkwan’s family and their cinnamon,” you murmured.

The family you mentioned, however, had razor-sharp hearing, and three heads turned to you. “What’s wrong with cinnamon?” the girl asked,

“Don’t you worry about _____, here, sweetie,” the eldest mock-consoled, “She doesn’t like to have anything sweet.”

“That’s not true,” you immediately said, but the kids caught onto their uncle’s words quicker than yours, and their shock had you almost embarrassed.

“No way!”

“How do you live your life?”

“Uncle Seungkwan, why didn’t you change her mind?”

Their incessant questions only had you chuckling nervously—you were sure sweat was breaking out, and that only worsened when the man beside you thoroughly enjoyed you squirming. “Your uncle is exaggerating,” you could only offer them, but you could tell they were not satisfied with your answer.

“Leave it to me,” he only said, winking at the children, “I’ll sort her out soon enough.”

That had you looking at him unconvinced. “You’ve failed for the past year, so I don’t know what’s changing.”

The children began oooooh-ing at what they believed was an insanely sick burn towards their uncle, who scoffed in response. “You’ll find out,” he merely said, then turned his attention to those fanning the flames. “And what happened to backing me up unconditionally?”

“We’ll support you when you give us some food,” Sojung reasoned, which had you chuckling. Negotiating for a luxury treat? You had to respect them.

“Alright, alright,” Seungkwan conceded, about to turn on his heel. “You lot stay here, and I’ll whip something up.”

As you watched him begin to leave, you narrowed your eyes at the workspace, separated by the windowless-frame. You focused on the children, an idea hatching. “Hey, you guys wanna come inside?”

Perking up at you, their eyes danced at the prospect. “Could we actually?” Sohyun asked, darting her head between you and the man beside. “Wait, are we even allowed?”

Seungkwan pondered over it, as if genuinely thinking over the restrictions. “So what?” you said, smiling at them. “We’ll make it allowed.”

Your answer was all the children needed, excitement almost reverberating off them. You ushered them out of their seats, pointing them towards the kitchen entrance, and they dashed off before you could offer any general warnings, fighting to contain your smile.

As Seungkwan watched, following after his niece and nephew, he took a cautionary glimpse at you. “If they break any health code violations, then you’re taking the sack.”

Walking right beside him, you opened the door to the station. “I’ll just say they’re your responsibility, and Jeonghan will finally have an excuse to fire you.”

But he was snickering softly at the claim, close at your heels as he stepped inside. It could have been the lowering of his voice, the slight octave down—perhaps the proximity again, which might have been purposeful on his part.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he muttered, and you had to blame the chill from the open windows for the shivers down your neck.

By the time you both entered, Sojung and Sohyun were already exploring the premises, marvelling at the professional equipment, the grandeur of the stainless steel. It was as if the stations were a long, forgotten historical site, and the children were archaeologists, brushes at the ready to inspect, marvelling at anything they had not seen before. The half-eaten Bonet latched onto their fancies, and they would have eaten the dessert with their bare hands had Seungkwan not tutted, pointing at the clean spoons on the countertop.

“I was expecting the kitchen to be really messy,” Sohyun commented, eyes straying from the pudding to observe the surroundings once more. “Wouldn’t it get so busy in here?”

“Super busy,” you admitted, “Especially during this time. Mind you, sometimes there’s no room around here, there’s so much ingredients to take care of.”

As he tried to find said-plethora-of-ingredients, Sojung said, “I bet you could have such a good food fight in here.” He glanced at the Bonet, and then at his sister.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, raising her cutlery as a legendary weapon.

But you did not fixate on their conversation to the end, because the mention of the food fight had you glancing at the man who you had actually thrown food at. It was not as if it was that long ago—hell, Seungkwan would have only just rid himself off the mascarpone from his hair.

You even remembered how it all began—the fateful incident which brought down Jeonghan’s wrath, and ultimately this dreaded assignment. It was like any other prep day for the restaurant, Mingyu helping alongside you two as you prepared the ingredients on the countertops, finalising the desserts which were to be offered that night. It had to be stressed—it was a completely normal day.

Except Seungkwan had already sparked your irritation alive from the initial disagreements on the flavour variations of the Cassata Siciliana—a layered cake of sheep ricotta cheese, chocolate, candied fruit, all topped with marzipan. The blends of the cheese usually worked wonders, but the idiot suggested substituting the traditional ricotta for mascarpone, apparently enriching the dessert to its fullest extent. You knew his scheming was simply to have a sweeter grand dessert on the menu, but you refused to fall for his antics. You instantly rejected his attempts, and that only fuelled his anger, insisting that the specialised cream be used for the Cassata or he would refuse to add your additions.

You did not know whether it was that warning, or the notion that he had no power to even say such a warning. Whatever the motivation, it was enough for you to ask him a simple question, hands straying to the ingredients.

“You wanna know where mascarpone cream would look best?”

Forever the fool, he asked, hoping his condescending nature would rile you up.

And because you were a greater fool than he was, you only scooped the cream and flung it on his face, he yelping as it stuck to the perfect curls of his brown hair. Reeling back from the mess, he touched the remnants on his cheeks, his locks, gaping at it until he set his stare on you.

It was then the chaos began. The pandemonium that followed, food flying everywhere in places you never thought it would reach, a pitiful waste of ingredients and emotions as the rest of the crew scrambled to mediate between the two of you. Even Jeonghan had difficulty at first, but one guttural roar had everyone pausing. Everything afterwards was history.

Looking at him now, though, imagining the chaos of it all…it brought a strange fluttering within your chest. You did not think there was anyone else you could have thrown food at.

With the way he returned your gaze, his usual sharp glower softened as the memory flashed within his own eyes. He could not help himself, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards the more he delved into it, the verbal lashings the two of you received afterwards.

It was there, in the kitchens, with the children stealing glances at the stillness of their guardians, the faint scent of cinnamon still in the air, that you smiled at Seungkwan without an ounce of ridicule laced in it.

His eyes widened. His slight surprise had you smiling a little wider, but before he could say anything, he was duly interrupted. “Uncle Seungkwan, when are we getting any food?”

Sojung joined in. “Stop staring at Miss _____ here!”

The accused immediately composed himself. “Jinsoul really needs to discipline you both…”

Fidgeting with your rolled-up sleeves, you resorted to helping your partner. “Right, you two,” you asserted, clapping your hands together, “What do you want?”

Sohyun dug the toe of her boot further into the floor, all sheepish. “We were hoping Uncle Seungkwan would make us the usual.”

“The usual?” A side-glance at him. “Anything special?”

“I didn’t think so,” he admitted, a finger at his chin as he thought about his ingredients’ whereabouts. “They can’t have enough of it, though.” After another moment, he turned to the direction of the pantry. “Hey, there’s still vanilla gelato leftover right?”

Once you nodded, he was off, heading towards the other entrance, promising to come back within minutes. With the common man gone, you looked at the two children, whose curiosities still seemed unsatiated.

You decided to question them first. “What’s your uncle making you?”

The boy answered before his sister even opened her mouth. “It’s so good! It’s what Uncle Seungkwan makes us every time we come here.”

“All I know is that Sojung always makes Uncle Seungkwan add more ice cream than mine.”

“Now you’re just lying!” he rebuked, aching to push her off the countertop. “She always gets more biscuits in hers, so she can’t complain!”

You chuckled at their antics, speaking over them to settle their bickering. “Biscuits and ice cream is it?”

“No, no, it’s like…” the girl imitated with her hands, describing the shape of an odd-looking mug. “You put ice cream first, then hot chocolate, and then Uncle Seungkwan adds more stuff I can’t remember.”

“It’s amazing,” Sojung promised, his face serious and persuasive, as if he was a politician promising a controversial policy.

Impressed by his words, you, the hesitant voter, decided to believe him. “You’ve convinced me, little man.” You glanced over your shoulder—at the other entrance—before focusing on the boy, whispering, “Your Uncle Seungkwan does make a killer dessert.”

“Why’re you saying it like that?” Sohyun asked, matching your hushed tone. “Do you not like him?”

You contemplated the question. It was simple enough—they were not expecting a Tolstoy-saga timeline of your unstable partnership with their uncle. A couple of weeks ago, the answer would have been easier.

Situations, however, had changed—shifted indefinitely, throwing your viewpoint off its axis. You both were rivalling teams, always rooting for each other’s downfall, and now you both played for the same side, and it was…you did not know. Well, you did know, were very aware of how it felt, but it was something you could not voice out loud—not even to yourself.

So you merely said, “He’s alright…your Uncle Seungkwan,” and hoped to anything that resided above that it was enough.

It seemed so—then, Sojung, forever curious, thought to be more personal than his sister. “If you don’t like him, then who do you like?”

You were astounded by how nosy children were, but realised they were related to Seungkwan. Checks out. “I’m afraid I’m too busy working to have workplace crushes.”

As you made your declaration, you heard the man on a mission return, door swinging open with his foot as he held the ingredients. Walking over to the counter, he dumped the contents, you observing what he brought: a box of fresh vanilla gelato, a 4-pint carton of semi-skimmed milk, and a few small pots, labelled as almonds, hazelnuts, amarettis.

“Is she telling the truth?” Sojung asked his uncle, you gasping at the notion. Since when did children require witness confirmation for your half-lies?

Seungkwan snorted as he brought out a pot from the side of the hob, setting the base upon the bottom right stove, sparking the flames to life. Without even looking back, he grabbed the milk carton, unscrewing the cap. “She’s lying to you guys,” he confirmed, pouring the contents inside. He set the half-empty container beside him, sparing you a mischievous glance. “She’s too busy arguing with me.”

“Hey!” The children began to laugh. “I only argue with him when he’s provoking me.”

Snickering knowingly, he walked to the metal cupboards settled in the corner, opening them up to procure three elongated glasses, small, circular handles on their sides, narrowing at the bottom. Setting them before his esteemed customers, he replied, “I’ll have you know, _____, you’re the one who starts most of our arguments.”

“Since when?”

Usually, his stare would have been incredulous, unamused. This time, though, his eyes were dancing. “Did you know, kids,” he began, voice deepening as if regaling a fantasy tale, grabbing the tub of luxury hot chocolate powder, “That _____ and I had a real food fight here?”

“No way!” Sohyun gasped. “Did you guys get in trouble?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, sighing through his teeth as he poured two heaped teaspoons within each glass. “Our punishment was to work on a dessert together.”

“Uncle Jeonghan has a weird way of punishing someone,” the girl commented.

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, Seungkwan also murmuring in agreement as he started the kettle, the water heating at lightning-speed and ready before you realised. Picking up the kettle from its base, he poured a little into each cup, mixing the powder within the water to rid himself of the textured cocoa forming. “Hot chocolate?” you inquired, watching his every movement—his setting the kettle back, all the while grabbing the milk off the stove, pouring three-quarters full of every glass, stirring simultaneously whilst he drained the pot off its boiling contents.

This was second nature to him—he did not answer, engrossed in his work, because this was him in his element. He was a born creator, thriving in the atmosphere of nourishment. The scent of hot cocoa and vanilla, amplified when his nephew cracked open the container, delighted your senses, mouth watering at the notion of trying this beverage.

The girl beside you responded for him as he set the empty pot to the side. “It’s more than hot chocolate,” she said, as she grabbed hold of a spoon, hoping to take a bite but stopped when her uncle shot her a disapproving look. “Please, just one bite!”

“You and your brother won’t leave us with any when you’re done,” he scolded, holding out his hand. Caught red-handed, she begrudgingly gave him the spoon, which he put away, instead bringing out an ice cream scoop. Checking the open container, he brought the scoop down, the soft gelato curling luxuriously within the curve of the metal. He was generous with his serving, the gelato fighting to stay on the scoop as he dropped the first into the hot chocolate closest to him, quite low to avoid any chocolate spillage. He added another to the glass before repeating it several times for the other two cups, giving in to the children’s request for more in their serving.

You realised the product was finished when, before Seungkwan could declare it himself, the kids yanked their cups further away from him, excitement radiating off their features. “Thank you, thank you!” they both chirped in harmony, instantly sipping on the hot chocolate and groaning in approval.

The esteemed chef took hold of your glass by the handle, walking over to where you leaned forward at the counter. Straightening yourself, you judged the final product, him leaning back before it. “Voila,” he said, “Or whatever you call it in Italian.”

“It’s the same, actually.” You pulled the cup closer, admiring the chocolate-to-milk gradient, the vanilla ice cream slowly melting within the glass. “Not bad.”

He ticked his head to the side, furrowing his brows. “Um, I think you meant to say it looks exquisite.”

“What even is it?” You turned the glass around.

Seungkwan watched you inspect the contents. “It’s, uh…it’s a drink I’ve always made for them, back in my apprentice days.” He brought a hand to his torso, smoothing down his apron. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it, but I changed it a little…made it more kid-friendly.”

“Kid-friendly?” A glance at him. “What the hell was the original drink?”

He scoffed out a chuckle. “It’s nothing like what you’re thinking. The original beverage had liquid espresso, and I thought it’d be too bitter for them.”

“That’s fair.” Taking a spoon from the pile of cutlery, you began stirring the ice cream, melting it within the milky hot chocolate. Taking a sip, you slipped the spoon in your mouth and hummed. “Oh…woah.”

“Use your words, _____,” he merely said, earning a second-glare from you. You could not retain it though, instantly digging in.

“This is nice, actually,” you had to admit. Seeing the man try to bask in your half-assed compliment had you adding on, “But I will say, I would have liked the espresso. I know what you mean about the kid-friendliness of it all.”

“I can make it if you want.” He glanced at the equipment—the barista-standard machines, more portable coffee-machines, the like. “There’s a french press thrown in the cupboard somewhere.”

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving. “You just made me this.”

“So?” He shrugged, twisting his lips to the side. “It won’t be hard.” He took a step back, watching over the children. “You two want a snack or something?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Sohyun demanded, sipping the last of the drink.

“I wonder where they got their attitude from,” he grumbled, grabbing their empty glasses and bringing them to the sink.

You could not help your snort, scooping out half-melted ice cream. “I’m looking right at him.”

“I hope the hell you’re not looking at me right now,” was his warning, turning on the faucet and letting the hot water fill the dirtied glasses.

He made sure you were not, but you were never one to follow orders. You watched him as he brought out a french press from the cupboards beside the machines. “This won’t make the best espresso, but I can’t be arsed to fire up the machines right now.”

“Wow, such high-class customer service!” you shrilled, slowly walking over to the fridges on the opposite side and opening the door, finding the airtight Bombe Calde doughnuts sitting daintily inside. Deciding to take all eight displayed, you closed the fridge, setting them before the table.

The children jumped on the treats at once, Seungkwan tutting at their sheer gluttony. “You’re gonna get sick, and then your mum is gonna beat me up.”

“Noshewomt,” was the boy’s coherent answer, mouth too occupied with the chocolate doughnut to bother clarifying.

Turning the kettle on once more, the man obtained the finely-ground coffee beans, adding a couple teaspoons within the french press and waiting for the water to boil. “Pass me one, will you?” he asked, and you decided to comply, taking one from the plate—noticing half of them have been wiped out—and holding it out to him.

He held out his hand, fingers brushing against yours as he accepted the treat, your own hand still in the air between as he brought it to his mouth, taking a bite. You did not realise your fingers were still holding out the outline of the dessert until the switch on the kettle ticked off, snapping you out of your daze. Curling them into your palm, you set your hand to the side, sighing sharply. “You don’t have to make this.”

Luring the jug to the open press, he poured the water, the fine coffee instantly darkening the liquid. “You don’t want it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, watching him as he took the plunger, pressing the lid shut upon its glass and began pumping the water and coffee together. He was quick, up and down and repeating the gesture, creating a more bitter colour. “It’s not that…”

Finishing, he chose to not to respond then, only taking a new glass from the cupboard in front of him. “Sohyun, the gelato.”

His niece obliging, he deposited two scoops of the ice cream, one after the other. Then, assuming this was the final touch, he poured the espresso inside, assuring that the ice cream was drenched in the bitter flavour, until the french press was drained.

Perhaps your partner was correct—the bitterness of the drink, even the mere scent of coffee in your nostrils had you exhaling in satisfaction. Seungkwan caught it, smiling a little in reaction.

It was then he chose to respond. “I wanted to make it for you.”

“Oh.” You chose to admire the dessert-beverage he made—for you only, you thought. “Does it have a name?”

A nod. “It does.” You could feel his eyes on you. His fingers grazed the glass’ base, curling—close to where your own fingers wandered, nail scratching against the curves of the cup. “It’s called an affogato.”

You looked at him. “An affogato? I’ve had a few of these before.” Taking your spoon, you cut through the gelato, making sure you scooped enough of the espresso. Once you dared a taste, you instantly hummed, the bittersweet mixture of the ice cream and the coffee enlivening your taste buds. “Oh, Christ, this is the one.”

“I knew you would enjoy the original recipe,” Seungkwan remarked, watching you lap away at the dessert. “I will say, though, the french press doesn’t do the espresso justice.”

“Yeah, you use the proper machines for it, right?” Another bite taken. “This is insane, though.”

“You think so?” When you nodded, he dipped his head, acknowledging your approval. He blew air from his mouth, a deep sigh which had you tilting your head. “I used to make it a lot, back in the day.”

“Your apprentice days?” you parrotted, just as he did earlier.

He only squinted his eyes, an effort to keep your teasing in check, but found himself chuckling. “Yeah, back in Jeju. My dad loved to make them…he, like, would always add different flavoured ice creams in the espresso, maybe add hot chocolate if I wasn’t feeling too good with coffee…”

“Your dad made you these?” You sipped on the drink, careful of the ice cream. “That’s really sweet.”

“I know.” Taking a bite out of the bambe calde, he continued, “Yeah, he’s really supportive. My mum, too, but it took some time for her to accept that I wasn’t gonna be a doctor.”

“You’re better off for sure,” you remarked, stirring the contents. “Imagine your ass trying to do surgery on someone…you’d get the hospital sued.”

“First of all, fuck you,” he started, but quickly stopped when his niece and nephew gasped at the curse. “Sorry, sorry! I promise she doesn’t mind.”

“Don’t say sorry to us, too, say it to _____!” Sojung ordered.

“You’re being mean, Uncle Seungkwan,” Sohyun huffed next.

“Yeah, Uncle Seungkwan,” you chimed in, earning a berating glower from him. “You’re being rude.”

“Well I’m so sorry, _____,” the man chirped, and you had to keep drinking to stop yourself from laughing. “Now, you two, get back to stuffing your faces.”

As the kids happily obliged, you released a satisfied exhale as you finished off the espresso, half-melted ice cream left in the glass. “I still mean it. You would have been worse off as a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. I’ll kill off my patients because I wouldn’t know the difference between a scalpel and a butter knife.”

“No, not like that.” You turned to him. “Seungkwan, you were meant to create desserts.”

He looked at you then, not quite believing his ears. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course.” Your eyes flickered to the remnants of the affogato. “There’s a reason Jeonghan kept you…hell, there’s a reason I still haven’t managed to get rid of you.”

There was a pause, felt enough that you snuck a quick glance as you watched over the conversing children.

“Do you want to?” he asked. Your gaze stuck, and he furrowed his brows, clarifying, “Get rid of me, still?”

He looked at you, and you found yourself a little lost in his eyes. There was one certainty you could rely on, and that was his gaze—whatever he felt, he always exposed it, whether he wanted to or not.

Tonight was different. Tonight, with the children nearby, you still stirring the melted gelato, you could not comprehend them. What his eyes offered this time was tenderness—a certain warmth you had never been offered by him since…since ever. Since as long as you had known him.

So you held up the cup, finishing the rest of the dessert—the dessert he had made with his own hands.

You decided to say something else instead of answering his question—something better. “I think we’ve found our dessert, Seungkwan.”

The man’s warmth morphed with confusion. “The affogato,” you said, holding out the glass. “We should make it for our Christmas menu.” His stance had you carrying on, setting the cup to the side as you focused on him. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out. You said it yourself, you can make this with various flavours right?” His nod had you continuing, “And obviously, we’ve seen that you can change around the drink bit, too.”

“Hmm…” That had him thinking, and you could see it, the cogs within his head turning at rapid speed. “Wait, you know what…my dad also added liqueurs in the drink, which gave a little fire to the dessert. I liked it a lot, but obviously you can’t give hard alcohol to kids, so…”

“Very responsible,” you deemed it. “And it’s so easy to make! I mean, you whipped it up within minutes for me.”

He was straightened up now, watching you intently as you thought about it further, the entire prospect of it. “It could be quicker, too, you know. The french press takes more time, but if we made it on the machine, then—” He cut himself off, thinking and thinking, walking towards the countertop. “Wait, this could actually work.”

“What can work, Uncle Seungkwan?” his nephew asked, curiosity prompting his question.

“Something really special, Sojung,” he replied, scouring the table for his notes, but realising he left them at the changing lockers. “Shit. Shit.”

“Language!” Sohyun chided, but her dear uncle wasn’t really listening, whipping out his phone and typing ferociously.

You did not realise what he was doing until he pressed the phone to his ear, pointing at the kids to wash their hands. “Hello? Yeah, Jinsoul, hi, you guys back from the date?” A pause, as he started a pace, back and forth in the kitchen. “Hmm, yeah, don’t care about all those details, listen—” He turned a sharp corner, finding the words, “Is it alright if I could drop the kids back right now? Something urgent came up.”

As he listened to his sister, his eyes flickered to you. “Yeah…it is. We thought of something perfect.”

You avoided his gaze then—a cowardly choice, you knew—but, perhaps for the first time, his stare was a little too intense. “Yeah, don’t worry about that, I’ll do it,” he said, “I owe you. For real this time.”

As the man ended the call, the nephew pulled a face. “Do we have to go back already?” he whined, licking the sugar from his fingers.

“Afraid so, buddy,” was his response, pocketing his phone. “Come on, you two, I gotta take you back to your parents.”

“But what about _____?” Sohyun asked, watching you intently as you began to clear away the dishes.

“I’ll get going, too,” you replied, cleaning the rest of the dishes, setting them on the side. “Or else my friend will think I’m overworking myself.”

“Julie?” Seungkwan asked, and you nodded. “How is she doing, by the way?”

Dusting away at your hands, you gave him a look, untying your apron. “How do you know her name?”

“I talked to her when you ran away from me, remember?”

“I didn’t run away,” you muttered, but that did not stop the pompous twist of his mouth, threatening to sour your mood.

Another ten minutes, and the rest of you were sorted, clothing and other personal items extracted from your locker and donning your coat. You let Seungkwan and the children exit first, making sure all the entrances were locked save for the one you were leaving from.

The chill of the London winter nipped at your face as you left from the backdoor, a slight shiver cluttering your teeth as you locked the premises. You witnessed the man firmly wrapping his huge red scarf around the girl, whispering to the boy at the same time to don his gloves—yes, even if they don’t let him use his phone.

As you walked over to the group, you were about to start when he beat you to it. “I'll drop Sohyun and Sojung off, and then I’ll get to the planning. My dad will be up around this time, so I’ll ask about his preferences.”

“I’ll do some research back home,” you offered. “Jinsoul wasn’t mad, right? I think you disturbed her date.”

“She’ll live,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got more important things to do, anyway.”

Nodding, you then leaned forward, smiling at the children. “You two should come again.”

“Oh, we will!” Sojung promised, smirking. “I don’t know why Uncle Seungkwan was hiding you from us.”

The accused ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’re running your mouth too much today.”

“He always runs his mouth too much,” Sohyun muttered, causing her brother to stick his tongue out at her.

Giggling at their antics, you looked to Seungkwan, who sighed slightly as you released another shiver. “You know I need you alive for this dessert report.”

Hugging yourself tightly, you remarked, “Who would have thought Boo Seungkwan wanted me happy and healthy by his side?”

A snort, misting in the cold air. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I said alive. Barely is fine by me, too.”

You shook your head at him, restraining the urge to let your lips quirk upward. “Goodnight, Seungkwan.”

As you swivelled with a last goodbye to his niece and nephew, you left for the underground, not two minutes away.

Sohyun was the first to break the night silence as you finally turned the corner, away from their sight. “I like her, Uncle Seungkwan,” she declared, walking ahead of the group.

“Me too,” Sojung agreed, following after his sister in hopes to tread on her boots. “I hope we see her again.”

The man did not listen to their petty arguments which soon replaced their praises of you, holding onto their first confessions. And although he did not voice them out loud, his thoughts were an answer, left unsaid.

You will see her again—whether I want to or not.

THE NEXT WEEK BROUGHT ANOTHER CHANGE WITHIN YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH SEUNGKWAN.

Mostly because what you and your partner had actually was a relationship now. The intense months, before the Christmas menu was even established, where you and him had argued and screamed the kitchen down had soothed into a kurt understanding of the dessert you were about to create. At last, after months of your victories, your losses to him, the disgruntled progression into stalemates, you two had achieved the unachievable.

You both had decided on a dessert.

Jeonghan could not believe his ears when you first informed him, and immediately booked himself a special Specsaver’s hearing test—you forgot how far he would go for a bit, but at least it was not your time he was wasting. He asked Seungkwan for confirmation, and, sure enough, when the latter agreed, your boss may have experienced shell-shock akin to war veterans. Of course, you wanted to be offended, but you had no right—at the end of the day, Jeonghan had only ever seen violence brewing between you and the dessert chef. Any semblance of toleration was considered a breaking-news event.

The two of you tried not to let Jeonghan’s shock distract you from your planning—Seungkwan received a wealth of information from his father, and learned that the most classic form of the affogato is the one he created for you—the vanilla gelato, and hot espresso poured on top. Although it was delicious, it was deemed too plain for Christmas menu, and opted for more flavours.

Seungkwan first offered the idea for whipped cream, but you rejected it. “Whipped cream and gelato seems excessive,” you explained, looking over your research notes. “The cream might offset the gelato’s flavour.”

“How do you feel about chocolate shavings? It could work well with smoothing out the bitterness of the espresso.”

“But the gelato’s doing that,” you countered. “I don’t mind it, but I’d want something stronger for the first choice.”

“Hmm…” He skimmed his father’s ramblings for a moment, then handed it to you. “This is what Dad used. He’d swap certain things around.”

Reading through, the first thing you noticed was the neat writing—Seungkwan’s, undoubtedly. He had categorised different gelato flavours in one column, espresso or other coffee variations in the second, liqueur choices for the third, and the last, larger column was reserved for toppings. “He certainly has range,” you commented, looking up. “How come you missed learning it?”

“You’re the only one blind to it,” he disputed, crossing his arms. “It’s a wonder you’re not turning down the affogato as we speak.”

“You never know!” you chirped sarcastically, in hope to keep him on his toes. “Did you try out all these variations?”

“Yep. I was a picky eater.” He exhaled through his nose at your incredulous look, reminiscing. “Shocking, I know. Aside from the alcohol, he tried every single one of those flavours. All of them are approved by child-me, teenage-me, and today-me.”

“I see,” you said, reverting back to the notes. You had to admit, his father did take liberties with what he deemed Italian for an Italian drink. As you kept reading it over, glancing at the man’s peaceful recollection, you did not think that mattered.

This was someone’s efforts to keep their child full. This was a father’s testimony of ensuring his son’s happiness.

You smiled at the notion, offering the pages back to him. “I personally like the biscotti the most out of all these options. If we chop the biscuit finely enough, it’ll have a nice crunch in the dessert. It’ll keep the espresso’s essence as well, while also maintaining the sweetness of the ice cream.”

His slight surprise had you pulling back. “What? Oh, is this your turn to reject me now?”

But then he smiled a little, catching you off guard. “No, the opposite actually. I’m just surprised you chose that one.”

“Why?” You groaned, getting up from your seat. “It’s the worst one, right? Baby-you threw up after having it, I’m sure.”

“No, actually.” He paused. “The biscotti was my favourite topping.”

Oh. “So…you’re good for its almond flavouring?”

He nodded, taking the papers from you. “Yeah, I am…why are you asking?”

“It’s just…I don’t think we’ve ever agreed to a decision so…cordially.”

Seungkwan scoffed. “Well, obviously we weren’t gonna argue when you agreed with me.”

You instantly checked him on this. “I was the one who suggested it.”

His counter was immediate. “You picked it from my notes.”

A click of your tongue. “Your dad’s, actually.”

He opened his mouth, eyes narrowing, but then realised you were right, and clamped his lips together. The action within those sudden sequences had you offering him a smirk. “And I thought we were past all this,” he whinged, exasperation clear.

“Don’t think I’ll let you win so easily,” you warned, widening your shit-eating smile as you walked over to the espresso machines, regarding the fine steel in its all shining glory.

“I never win easily with you,” he grumbled, stepping beside you.

“It should be kept that way,” you only said. “Now, how do we work this shit?”

Seungkwan turned away from you, hiding his bemused smile before clearing his throat and explaining the rules. This was the way you two worked now—a smidge of back and forth bickering, but never truly rising to the surface where you threatened ultimate violence.

It was strange, you had to admit; never before had you felt a tolerance, even an acceptance of his presence beside you. He would offer assistance of some kind, bring forth new suggestions, and your first instinct was not to cuss out his ancestors for suggesting such gullible ideas. Even the man who worked alongside you would not provoke your rash temper, and day by day you found yourself wondering why, after the entirety of his acquaintance, you had never simply got on with him.

You did not care to investigate the origins of who was at fault. All that was left, in a sense, was to salvage whatever strange alliance you both had created, and hope that was enough to finish the final dessert.

The preparations, the testing of the machines continued into the restaurant’s opening, and Jeonghan assisted, as promised during the beginning of the process, in helping with orders, teaching Junhui of the more luxurious, complex desserts during that time. Thankfully, the restaurant was quieter that day, so the Head Chef was relaxed, carefree enough to try provoking you and Seungkwan into a disagreement, but to no avail.

The trialling carried on well into the night, the only people left in the restaurant being you two and Jeonghan, who was arguing with his accountant loud enough to hear it through the dessert stations. You ignored him, tasting the newly created vanilla gelato, liquid espresso and biscotti pieces sprinkled. Seungkwan brought out the last touch, pouring a half-shot of amaretto liqueur into the long, slender glass.

And as the two of you tasted the dessert, your spoon first, and then passing it onto him, you realised you may have made something great—perfection can take a while, you both understood it, but what you two created was something bigger than yourselves. Realistically, it was just a beverage, but it was not just a beverage—this was peace, scooped up within the containers of the gelato, an acceptance peeking out within the chopped biscottis. This was—could you say it—respect, poured from his very hands, staining the glass of your relationship with him.

Even as the two of you shared a look of understanding, finishing the singular affogatto together, you knew circumstances had shifted—something was different.

Seeing as the boss was stuck with working out his finances, you decided to head out, letting Seungkwan finish with the cleaning up, lest you make a sound and he made you carry out your dishwashing. You made a head start towards your belongings in the other room, taking out your bag and jacket as the man walked to his lockers. Donning your layers, he slid out his satchel, coat and that long-ass scarf, snapping the square door shut.

“I think we can send the report to Jeonghan any day now,” he said, sliding his arms through the coat holes.

You began to walk to the back door, watching him follow slowly. “You think so?”

He caught up, wrapping his scarf around himself—three loops round his neck, almost hiding half his face. Pulling down the fabric with a finger, he settled his chin over the scarf, nodding. “We’ve done almost everything…I mean, there’s a bit of paperwork left, but I’ll write that tonight when I’m at Jinsoul’s.”

“You’re going to your sister’s?” you asked as you grabbed onto the door. “Don’t tell me you’re interrupting the poor couple again.”

“So what if I am?” he demanded. “That’s on them for establishing a relationship between me and their kids.”

“Fair enough.” Opening the door to the outside world, you instantly shivered at the sheer temperature drop from the past few days. London’s winters were unpredictable, but you forgot its cruelty too. The chill of the midnight winter seeped through your too-thin jacket, and you had to stop yourself from shivering out of your bones.

Your teeth would have chattered more had Seungkwan not spoken again. “She was asking about you, by the way.”

“Oh,” you could only say—courtesy of the cold, and the teeth. “She was?”

“Why’re you so shocked by that?”

A lazy shrug. “I don’t know…I thought you would have talked shit about me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Now why would you think that?” You returned the gaze, and then he let out an understanding noise. “Oh, yeah…yeah, I did that the other day actually.”

“Hey, now!” You would have nudged his elbow, but were too cold to do so. “I haven’t pissed you off this past fortnight.”

“I know, I know, I just…” he sighed a little, which frosted into the air. “I mean…I’ve mentioned you. In passing.”

“In passing?” You parroted, hugging yourself. A frosted scoff escaped you. “You can’t help being obsessed with me, huh?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, which had you chuckling—the soft laughter was cut off by your teeth once more, chattering to the point of catching his notice. “You knew it was gonna get cold, you idiot.”

You returned his observations with a glare. “I didn’t actually know that, which is why I’m cold right now…you idiot.”

The condensation from your mouth was enough evidence of the chill—that, and of course, your bated breaths. “Yes, I’m the idiot that’s so nice and warm,” Seungkwan sang, irritating you further.

When you did not deign to respond to him, the cold weather conquering your meagre layers, nipping at your skin, he stopped the next dig, at the tip of his tongue. He then observed your countenance—the rubbing of the arms, the groans you tried to contain at the discomfort taking over. The man veiled his mouth with the bunched-up scarf, narrowing his eyes. Sighing a little, the heat of his breath curled against the fabric, kissing his face, and the slight warmth that welcomed him did not bring him the comfort he relished mere minutes prior.

He looked at you, hugging yourself tightly. The moment your eyes flickered to his, remnants of displeasure in your eyes, his own widened slightly.

Shit. His hands grabbed onto the scarf before he realised what he was doing. Shit, shit, shit, was all he could think, as, with hands unwrapping the long piece of clothing from his neck, he seethed a little at the chill that welcomed his exposed skin.

Before you could realise what he was doing, he brought the length of the scarf around you, both his hands holding each of the ends at your sides. “Wh-what are you doing?” you got out, your hands instantly stopping his. “Wait, Seungkwan—”

“Save your bickering,” he cut you off, merely waving your hands away as he wrapped the first loop around you, the scarf still too long on one side. “Talking will only make you colder.”

But you were already opening your mouth, ready to counter him when another loop of the scarf masked half of your face. Your surprise was shown only through your eyes, but he ignored it completely, wrapping the length around one last time. The scarf had almost shrunk you, your head buried in the layers, and Seungkwan had to pause for a second, unable to contain his smile.

What are you smiling at? you asked, except the scarf had mumbled your speech, and he could not hear a thing. He could understand very clearly the irritation, though, rising in your gaze, and that only broke the seam of his lips, grinning at you.

“Wait, hold still,” he said, reaching to the top of the neckwear. He leaned in, fingers folding down the fabric, slowly and gently, and you blinked back at the proximity. You had a feeling he had not noticed at first, but then your eyes bore into him, and his fingers slowed. His knuckle brushed against your jaw, and a soft shiver escaped you, finally catching his attention. Only then he stole a glance, realising just how close he was to you.

His pupils were darting all over your face, as much as he could take in from the closeness. You could not help it either, mouth parting, watching his bated breaths condense upon your face. God, he was close to you, and it was out of the ordinary, unfamiliar territory. If he leaned in any further, his lips would caress yours, solving the problem of this chill. You were not cold though—not anymore, with your cheeks burning every second spent under his scrutiny.

You should be pulling away—should be taking a step back. He felt the same. Once again, the two of you were in sync; always denying how similar you both thought, but confronted with that fated truth.

Seungkwan could see it—the truth, reflecting in your gaze. “There,” he whispered, fingers brushing against the scarf.

The scarf. His scarf. “I can’t have this,” you said, but your voice was barely there. “It’s yours.”

“I know.” A ghost of his raised brow. “It’s not like I’m giving it to you forever. I will take it back.”

You twisted your mouth. “Way to ruin a moment.”

He parted his mouth, both brows raising. “Was there a moment to ruin?”

“No!” you gasped out, craning your head back. You saw his smirk rise, and it was agonising, how your speech stuttered. “No, no, no. No moment here! You’re thinking it all up.”

“Hmm,” was all he got out, gaze skimming over your face—pausing at your mouth. “If you say so.”

With one last moment (because yes, there was something, and there was no denying it anymore), he stepped away, admiring the scarf wrapped around you. “Maybe I should let you keep it.”

This time, you had to look away. “You can have it back tomorrow.” Glancing over the time on your phone, you cleared your throat, fidgeting with the fabric. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nodded, hands sliding in his pockets. “We’re so close, _____.”

Choosing to avoid his eyes, you instead focused on the locks of his hair, the lapels of his jacket. It was unavoidable—he was beautiful, and he was smiling. A celebration of the coming victory, so near that you could taste Jeonghan’s approval.

So you smiled back. “We are, Seungkwan.”

JEONGHAN TURNED ANOTHER PAGE OF THE FINAL DESSERT REPORT.

You waited anxiously, one leg folded over the other as your eyes focused intently at the head chef, reading over the analysis. He was silent for the first time in a while, no sarcastic quip over the explanations. No questions were thrown at you, catching you off—all you were tested with was complete quiet, which, in a weirder sense, unnerved you more.

Your partner was there, too—in the same seat he always claimed on your right, bouncing his leg in anticipation, eyes trained at the same target as yours. He, on the other hand, could not deal with the silence which permeated the office. “I think you’ve read this section for the third time, Chef.”

But Chef ignored him, choosing to spend another ten minutes staring at the same pages, an effective enough punishment for being bothered. You would have thrown him an irritated glare had you not been so exhausted from the final trials.

The affogato dessert report was finished after another week of testing.

You and Seungkwan had spent half of the nights within that week at the restaurant, bouncing ideas off each other, finalising the rest of the toppings, the beverage variations. The two of you must have had fifty hours of sleep combined for the past six days, but it was worth the wait. It was worth the restlessness, the countless drafts of writing and rewriting…it reached a full completion at two in the morning, when you and your partner took one look at each other and knew you had done it.

Bothering Jeonghan at that time would have gotten you both fired, so you resorted to running back home for six-odd hours before trudging back to the restaurant. You saw Seungkwan at the entrance, identical eye-bags to yours, his frown a default feature on his sleep-stricken face. Still, the clear fatigue seemed to clear when he caught sight of you, leaving the door open to let you in.

It was here now, with you two anxiously waiting, that Jeonghan snapped the file shut, the slap of paper against paper jolting you both alert. “I hope that’s woken you up.”

The man beside you groaned, his leg ceasing the bouncing. “Jesus,” he could only say, because cursing his boss only fast-tracked him to unemployment (not that Jeonghan would have sacked him—in honesty, he was hoping one of them would call him a dickhead and storm out).

“It did,” you answered, trying your hardest to not knife him with your gaze. “Now are you approving the dessert?”

He observed the front of the report, jutting out his lower lip. “Well, I am impressed with the details…I don’t think any of you have put this much effort into a dessert report in your entire career.”

“Don’t say that!” You immediately exclaimed. “My granita dessert report last year was top-notch and you agreed with me!”

“Yeah, but that was last year, so it doesn't exist anymore.” He waved off your counters, continuing, “Anyway, this report is brilliant. I can see how much effort the two of you have put into this process.”

You nodded along to his comments, locking your hands together. There was no denying it, of course—you and Seungkwan had carved out your hearts and mixed the remnants within the affogato. What was appreciated was Jeonghan witnessing it with his own eyes.

“Before I officially start advertising the final selection, I do need to ask you one thing.” He set the report to the side, setting his chin upon interlocked fingers. “Now I know how you both felt about working together for this project…obviously I didn’t care about your opinions because of the disruptions, but recently, there’s been a peaceful environment at the station.”

His eyes darted between his dessert chefs. “Should the opportunity arise…would you work together on specific projects again?”

The dreaded silence was back, but it was not the head chef which instigated it this time.

It took almost every nerve in your system to restrain the muscles in your body, which would instinctively turn your head towards the man beside you. Biting your lip, glancing down at your hands once more, you thought the question over, echoing slowly in your mind.

If you were asked this question a couple of weeks ago, you would have laughed in Jeonghan’s face. You still remembered the evening in this office, when your boss doomed the two of you with the dessert project. You had not forgotten the snide comments, the back-and-forth bickering, even the fated confrontations—the night with the burnt caramel which had your entire viewpoint spinning on its surface.

What you did not comprehend was the change; the slow shift in every interaction, the anticipation of his family’s interactions, wondering whether his sister had asked for you again. That was the jackpot moment, you thought. At the end of the day, Seungkwan had not changed—you simply bothered to know him.

And whatever you had learned, you did not despise.

You chose not to admit any of this to the group. Instead, you remained in your silence, waiting for any of the men to shatter it.

Seungkwan stepped up to the quiet and broke it. “I dreaded doing the project.” You looked at him. He continued, staring at Jeonghan. “It was hard, I’ll be honest…what with our constant fighting and that.”

It was after a while he spoke again. “However, if you force us together in the next quarter, then…” He turned to you, and you swore there was a glow radiating from his face. “I wouldn’t mind it...being forced together with her again.”

You parted your mouth. You could barely hear Jeonghan’s scoff, humming at the implications. No, you only stared at him, your partner-in-crime, your—your friend? Something different, another term entirely.

Your mouth ran on its own, disregarding your sense of thought. “I wouldn’t mind it either.”

This time, you heard the boss’ huff of laughter enough to snap out of your stunned daze, watching him rise from his chair. “Does this mean my customers won’t hear you both arguing over their moonlit dinners?”

Truly, you wanted to frown at him. “As long as Seungkwan keeps quiet,” you said, glancing at the said-man.

His smile was mischievous when you caught it—you had to look away. “I’m not promising a damn thing.”

You only heard Jeonghan’s laughter then, vanishing only by the closing of his door as he left, approved report in hand.

Perhaps Seungkwan wanted to say more, but you hurried out of the office under the pretense of opening the restaurant. He chose to play along to your excuses, helping you alongside Mingyu and Junhui for the ingredient prepping, and soon business took over priority, the rush of the customers even in the late morning.

The bustling environment of the restaurant did not calm until its closing, you cursing the customers for not offering a single break during your long shift. The entire time consisted of egg and sugar whipping, the sounds of caramel cooking, espresso steaming and curt orders thrown around by you and your partner in the station. Because the stress of the dessert menu had faded, though, a great level of pressure had subsided, as if the summer sun had cleared through London’s winter storms.

Nighttime cloaked Covent Garden, stars scattered across the black sky, twinkling at the thousands upon thousands, in and out of the entrance columns. After seeing the last family off on their merry way, you turned the banner to Closed, sighing after a long day’s work.

Mingyu and Junhui were already packing, informing you of their plans together, so you let them leave earlier than anticipated. Seungkwan was the sole chef left, save for Jeonghan—though he could have fucked off without anyone’s knowing, for all you knew.

You thought he would have ran straight for his sister’s down south; it was a Friday night, which meant that Sohyun and Sojung were anticipating movie night with their favourite (and only, so you doubted how prized this title really was) uncle. Despite being aware of this, you caught sight of him whipping up the all-too familiar dessert, this time in accordance to the restaurant’s official recipe.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked him, walking over to where he stood next to the counter. “The kids’ll be waiting.”

“You remembered,” he pointed out, surprised. Pouring the espresso on top, he looked over to you, closing in. “Well, today I get a pass to celebrate our victory.”

“Victory?” You observed the finished affogato, scrunching your nose. “Not to be that person, but I’ve had enough of these to last me the year.”

“I know you were gonna say that,” he countered, holding up a finger as he stepped to the side. Lo and behold, there was a large bottle of champagne, a crisp burgundy bow wrapped around the neck. “Which is why I brought a little extra for the occasion.”

Lighting up at the sight of the alcohol, you grabbed onto the top, studying the label. “Franciacorta. Very tasteful.”

You set it back, searching for a corkscrew. “You sound shocked by my tastefulness,” you heard him remark, you opening the drawers and finding it amongst the disarray of cutlery.

“Well, of course,” you said, bringing the utensil to Seungkwan’s side of the counter, waiting for him to add in the cut-up biscotti. “Let’s not forget who the classier one out of us is.”

He clicked his tongue. “I am not getting into that can of worms.”

“All the better for your rep,” you added, earning a snort from him.

“Right,” he began, pushing the drink in your direction as he grabbed the bottle. “How about a drink first?”

“That I can agree with,” you said, handing him the corkscrew.

Seungkwan struck the cork with it, twisting it till he was satisfied. Then, with a little force, he popped open the champagne, fizzing from the bottle’s mouth. “There we go,” he sighed out, grabbing a couple of spare glasses, identical to the dessert’s shape, and filling them to the very tip. “I couldn’t find the proper glasses.”

“And you said you were the classier one,” you quipped, sipping the drink.

Shaking his head, he drank up, seething as he brought the glass down. “I can’t believe we’re finished, you know.”

“I don’t think it’s settled yet for me,” you admitted. “It was only a few weeks, but it felt like months.”

“God, I know.” Finishing off the first glass, he poured himself another. “Remember when you wanted to add leaves in the dessert? We’ve come so far.”

“Now you know I had a whole plan for that,” you defended, shaking a finger at him as you kept drinking. “And you can’t say anything, with your diabetes-inducing sweets.”

“You’re the one who agreed to the affogato.” He twisted his mouth into a smirk. “And that was my idea.”

You wanted to snarl at him—it had been too long since a bickering broke any semblance of peace, and although you enjoyed the lack of shouting, you swore it was enhancing his overconfidence.

But you decided to indulge him. You did not know why. “Your idea was so personal to your roots, Seungkwan. I don’t think I could have said no.”

Even he was stunned. “You couldn’t have said no?” he repeated in question, brows raising.

You only downed the rest of your champagne. “Nope.”

“Huh.” That was all he could give, swirling his drink. Your insides sung at his reaction, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling. Seungkwan’s smirks, you thought, truly had no substance the way his surprised, one-word responses did.

Another glass down, and you felt the buzz of the alcohol, bubbling through your veins, settling a little too pleasantly in your mind. The lights of the dessert station had been dimmed, too, only the lights of the hob turned on, your surroundings atmospheric. The silences may have been prevalent, but there was no discomfort. The tranquility was…in a way, it was beautiful.

There was more beauty, it seemed, in Seungkwan’s next words. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it was anyone else, you know.”

You straightened in your seat. “Oh?”

He nodded, you thinking that was the rest of it. But then he opened his mouth again, spilling out the confession which rested in his heart. “If it was anyone else working with me, they wouldn’t have seen the dessert, why I made it…my sister, her kids, anything like that.” He took a deep breath, about to continue, but then made sure to drink up. “And you suggested it first, which…I really appreciated.”

“Is that why I had never seen your family before?” another sip of the champagne. “Because you hated me that much?”

“I never hated you, _____,” he said, which only had you scoffing. “No, really! Sure, you pissed me off. Did Jinsoul first hear of you cause I bitched about you? Unfortunately, yeah. But!” he countered, raising a finger, “It was never hatred.”

“Well, I can’t say the same,” you mumbled, staring into the end of your glass. He grabbed your attention, filling it to the rim once more.

His stare did not leave you. “It’s not like that anymore, right?”

You matched his gaze—a smile threatened to take over. “No…not anymore. I got to know you, didn’t I?”

He could have gasped.

Boo Seungkwan, for the first time in his life, was speechless. It usually took devastating news to rattle him to his core—a notion so shocking his world slips from underneath him. His pupils almost dilated, gaping at you as if you told him he had won Jeonghan’s restaurant.

And although it was endearing, truly a sight to behold, you had the nerve to raise a brow at him. “Weren’t you the one who said I didn’t?”

He blinked back at the question, realising that he was not in a trance. “That I did.” He cleared his throat, downing another glass. The alcohol was getting to him, he could feel it.

You decided to leave the champagne for now, the bubbles successful in enhancing your giddiness. Turning to the affogato, you finally gave it some attention, digging in with a spoon. “It’s melted now,” you commented, taking another bite.

“That’s what happens when you ignore a dessert,” Seungkwan remarked, tutting as he drank.

“Don’t give a girl such good champagne then.”

“Hmm, or maybe you’re distracted by my company,” he appealed, watching you roll your eyes and chuckling. “Come on. We’re not throwing food at each other anymore, so you can be honest.”

“Okay,” you said, savouring the espresso and vanilla, in perfect harmony in your mouth. “I guess you’re not the worst person to have a conversation with.” He made to celebrate, face lightening up, but you interjected, “When you’re around your family.”

“Yeah, now you’re just saying shit,” he rebuked, setting the glass down. “I’m a bloody joy to be around!”

“And which one out of Jinsoul’s kids said that to get a doughnut out of you?”

“None of them!” he first exclaimed, but after two seconds of staring him down, he sighed out, “Sojung got four doughnuts that day.”

“Exactly.” Another bite, a little messy—you were sure the vanilla cream left remnants on your lips. “I told you, right? I know you now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he only said, tilting his head on his shoulder. He had drunk enough tonight. He was not usually careless—not that he was, but he did not take his glasses into account. He did, but he was with you tonight, and you were so happy.

He then noticed the slight gelato lining your lips, and he perked up slightly. “Affogato that good? You left behind a trail.”

“Unfortunately. Where is it?” you asked, trying to wipe it off, but to no avail. “I’m looking stupid, right?”

“The dumbest.” He pointed to his own mouth, but you would not follow. “Wait, one second.”

He stepped closer, rubbing his hands on his trousers. With a harsh intake of breath, he reached his hand out, and you froze at his touch, brushing against the corner of his lip. His focus did not distract him from your expression, thumb rubbing off the vanilla, cream fading from his every gentle swipe. His finger was soft—softer than you expected, velvety like the ice cream he made for you.

It was only when he finished, craning his head back just an inch, that he noticed your tensed-up expression—the breath that was caught in your throat. He had parted his mouth, the realisation striking him cold, and all he could do was watch—eyes flickering to your own, darting between one and the other, as if unable to take the full intensity of your stare.

You caught him peeking shamelessly at your lips, where his thumb remained, a ghost of a touch. Seconds passed, none of you daring to move, and you suddenly had an inkling that he was about to do something.

Oh God. Was he? You could not tell—he was looking at you in a strange manner, eyes heavy lidded. It must have been the alcohol. You were sure that was the reason for his daze, why his breaths were uneven.

You could not help the whisper escaping, as soft and delicate as a winter snowflake, twirling in a cold breeze. “Seungkwan?”

The said-man blinked back at your voice—his name on your tongue.

What you were going to do was close your eyes, brace yourself for the final distance—and then you realised you were bracing yourself for Boo Seungkwan, and the slight panic set in, striking you like a lightning bolt.

He must have caught it in your eyes, because then his reaction reflected your own, and maybe he made the most idiotic decision in his entire life. Although every muscle in his body demanded he do the opposite, he began to pull away and then you grasped onto your mistake, realising what he was doing, and you cursed yourself for letting him slip away in front of you this very second—this devastating, crucial moment.

And even though you did not comprehend what in hell you were doing at that moment, you caught his arm, holding onto the white cotton of his work shirt. He gaped at the gesture before setting the shock on you. “What’re you doing?” he rasped out.

“What’re you doing?” was your answer.

It was there, in the dimmed, flickering lights of the hob, that he stared at you, trying the hardest he ever had in the entirety of his life to catch your meaning. Damn him for drinking, damn his lack of restraint, because maybe if he had one less glass of champagne—

The darkening of your irises clocked any confusion in his tipsied judgement. His mouth parted, and you could have sighed with an intoxicated relief.

He knew you after all.

“Bastard,” you could only say, catching the beginnings of an appeased grin before he leaned in, any semblance of doubt erased as he pressed his lips to yours.

The first touch of his mouth was indescribable.

Never did you think you would find yourself in this situation, closing your eyes, a soft hum as he moved against you, finding the rhythm upon your lips. His own were so soft, a shocking twist in the tale—all those hard, condescending quips, but you supposed it should have made perfect sense. Your arguments were bitter, your collaborations tensioned, but there were no remnants of the past in his movements. He was as soft as the gelato you had indulged in, as velvety as the espresso coating his affogato gift.

Your breaths were caught in your throat, caged by his mouth, which delved deeper as the man’s hands cupped your face. His fingers were warm, shaking as they tilted your head to enhance the kiss. Your senses were alive before, but they were bouncing off the kitchen walls now, darting from the stove to the countertop, out of the doors and into the city as the sheer pleasure took over.

It was in that moment you realised that Boo Seungkwan was not only a great dessert chef, but an excellent kisser. The way he moved his lips with yours, syncing you along with him, was unfathomable in any other situation. You, following along, even bothering to hear him out, here now, trailing after his movements? You could not help yourself, though, when he was good, he knew this like he knew the affogato—familiar with its recipe, its methods, how to create it, nourishing it to perfection.

And because every dessert creation needed patience, Seungkwan was slow, careful as his tongue slid against the seam of your lips, trialling, testing. He succeeded in the first attempt, you opening up to him, and the feeling of his tongue slithering along yours had your stomach somersaulting within, unable to contain yourself. You could not contain the soft groans, lodged deep within your throat, and you could have sworn the bastard smiled against you, closing his mouth as he sucked on your tongue.

This was it. In the Vita di Diamante, under the lights of a luxury restaurant’s dessert-kitchen, your hands crept up his arms, locking behind his neck, and you snuffed out any distance, the countertop edges digging slowly into your side, dutifully ignored. Any sense of discomfort was replaced by the mountain of pleasure, boosted by Seungkwan’s fingers on your face, then your neck, his lips taking yours prisoner, threatening to roam, and his body, pressing against your own, his weight like a welcome cage, engulfing your entire presence.

This was nothing short of intoxication, a spark of a drug which would spiral into an addiction. You had kissed many others before your supposed rival, this uncertain friend, but you were sure of the ecstasy he offered, given to you in abundance. You had thought him selfish, narcissistic. But was this not compassion, each heated bursts of generosity he planted on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, slowly trailing downward till he found refuge on the patch of skin, just above your collarbone? Were these not acts of selflessness, the manner in which he teethed his kisses, inciting a moan loud enough to have your entire face alight?

It was that particular noise that made him realise his place, a burst of pride igniting inside him before he noticed the hob lights glistening your face. “We shouldn’t—fuck—” Seungkwan cursed out, breathless, and your stomach fluttered at the mere curse, spewed out countless times before. When did you become so affected—no, rattled by whatever this man did? “W-we shouldn’t do this here.”

Yet he was peppering you with open-mouthed kisses, and you could have screamed at him for making it so hard to answer him. “Then maybe…” you were rasping out your breaths, mind a complete daze. “Maybe you should stop.”

Pausing, he dragged his mouth, skimming along to your neck, only pulling away to lock your heavy-lidded eyes with his own. The lust swirling within them was the final, perfect garnish to the dessert of his desire—the same desire which worsened your hunger. “Do you want me to stop?”

Instinctively, you licked your lips, swiping up the remnants of Seungkwan’s efforts, relishing the residue of the champagne. When he caught the mere action, he hoped with the very marrow of his bones that you did not refuse him.

When you narrowed his eyes, lips twisting in a sneer, his fervour paused. “Are you fucking stupid?” you spat out, and he gawked at you—only for a second.

But a second was still too long, because you grabbed onto the collars of his shirt, colliding your mouth against his, and he could have sighed with relief. He furrowed his brow as matched your hunger, sliding his tongue back into your mouth, and this time you let the moans free, a symphony to his ears. He was all over you, moreso when his hands now tugged at your sides, pushing you further into the counter. You did not catch onto his intentions until, with one swift swipe of his hands, he lifted you upon the countertop, chasing your lips still, refusing to break away. He pushed between your thighs, caging himself in your presence, and it was embarrassing how quick your body responded, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Seungkwan was delirious, you were frenzied—Seungkwan was out of his mind, and you were out of your soul, the sounds of your mouths and tongues colliding in a destructive understanding, a heated combination that would have been impossible mere weeks ago. What had happened, how did it all equate to this very situation? Fate always worked in strange ways, but you had to work out how you ended up in this passionate scene—shameless as your whimpers grew louder, his arrogance growing with them, swallowing them with his mouth.

Maybe you both would have created something grander than any dessert in this station, sweeter than the damned cinnamon Seungkwan campaigned for at every given chance. With the soft moans darkening, breaths rasping out in slight desperation, you would have shown this restaurant a harmony never witnessed in your work.

But at this precise moment, Yoon fucking Jeonghan sauntered into the kitchens, ready to share some good news to you both when he took one look at your colliding figures.

The sharp, shocked scoff that escaped his coral lips had you and Seungkwan stopping dead in your heated tracks.

“How many more health and safety regulations are you two gonna violate?”

It was comical, how you both whipped your heads at the slender figure, smirk so conceited and pompous you wondered whether you were bickering at the wrong chef this entire time. “I knew one day you were gonna eat each other’s faces off,” he continued, catching onto every sudden movement of Seungkwan’s fingers tightening at your waist, your arms loosening around his neck. “But did it have to be in my goddamn kitchen?”

“Shut the fuck up,” was the younger’s reasonable response, earning him a huff of laughter from his boss. You could only stare and do nothing, so ashamed of being caught you restrained the urge to hide within the crook of his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, don’t be angry at me!” Jeonghan waved his hand over to the door beyond the further walls. “Personally, I think the pantry’s a better shout…more privacy, you know?” Close enough in front of you, his grin lop-sided. “Unless, of course, you wanted to give me a show—”

“Please, Jeonghan!” you cried out finally, as, with an aching decision, you pulled away from the man’s arms, the absence duly noted. “God, don’t you have a life outside of this place?”

“Well, if I did, then I wouldn’t have a restaurant,” he countered, smug as his eyes darted between his employees. “And my dear dessert chefs wouldn’t have a love shack to fuck in.”

That horrendous statement had you jumping down from the counter, dusting yourself off as you glowered at your boss, risking termination. “You need to talk to someone other than your accountant.”

A melodramatic sigh left his lips. “You’re right, which is why I was taking a few other calls. That’s why I came down here, to let you both know that there will be some very important people coming in for the new menu’s christening.” He then raised his hands in surrender. “But then I see you guys have much more important shit to cover!”

Perhaps telling your boss to get floored under a Northern line tube was cruel, but the threat stayed rooted on your tongue. He could sense it for sure, because he looked at his watch. “Now I have to go soon, which means I want you going home.” He glanced up at the post-makeout scene, another chuckle rising. “So who’s place are you continuing this shit in?”

“Go away, man!” Seungkwan demanded as you groaned, only left with Jeonghan’s laughter ringing in your ears as he left the scene, bidding an adieu with wiggling brows.

With the silence falling on you both, the tension, so rampant beforehand, had all but crashed disastrously after the interruption. The complete absurdity of it all brought a sigh out of you, Seungkwan humming in agreement.

“How do we get Jeonghan fired?” was the first question asked in the kitchen—courtesy of your venom.

“You think a bullying allegation would cut it?” the man suggested, but you clicked your tongue. “Nah, you’re right, it’s child’s play in this business. We’d be deemed cowards.”

“Couldn’t he have come later?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. God, you were tired. The tipsy stupor had morphed into fatigue.

And although Seungkwan felt the lethargy too, he chose to latch onto your words. “Later, huh? Didn’t want to be disturbed, then?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”

But he was back to being a grade-A asshole, so he crowed, “No, please, indulge me…what did you mean?”

You meant to glare at him, but his eyes were dancing, and you remembered his lips on you all over again. You resorted to silence, clamping your lips together, finding a little comfort in the smile he curled at your quiet response.

The two of you found yourselves collecting your things, Jeonghan the final man left in the restaurant so there was no concern for locking up. Your paths were shared up until Leicester Square's Station, ten minutes away from the restaurant, where your destination was.

“You didn’t have to walk me here, you know,” you said, turning to him as you fished for your travel card.

Seungkwan nodded lightly, “I know…I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

You looked at him, anticipating. There were still crowds, even at this time of night, rushing in and out of the popular station, but you did not notice them, not now. Not when he was gazing at you, an indecipherable emotion flickering in his features.

He licked his lips, intaking a sharp breath before asking you. “You didn’t…regret it, right?”

You knew what he meant, of course. Because you were a piece of shit too—only a little—you took a step closer, tilting your head at him. “What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me answer that,” he said, “Whatever I’ll say you’ll just say the opposite.”

A chuckle. “Smart man.”

Which is why you refrained from speaking the opposite—did not say anything at all as you leaned in, holding his face in your hand as you kissed him.

It was an unexpected phenomenon for him—exactly what you hoped to achieve. Still, it was welcomed, as Seungkwan moved his lips against yours, opening his mouth upon you to let a soft moan escape. The rush of London was no more—no tourists with their loud cameras, no locals with their grumblings of said-tourists. It was you and him, and this moment, captured in your lips in harmony with his.

Which is why it was difficult to break away, breathing heavily at the sensation as you watched his eyes flutter open, completely breathless. The sight had your heart constricting.

“Is that enough of an answer?” you asked him.

The smile he offered you was enough.

“WHEN ARE WE GONNA MEET SANTA CLAUS?”

The age-old question. You scanned the constant wave of local and international shoppers, twice the size of the groups you and Julie dealt with weeks ago. “It won’t be too far now, dear,” you reassured the boy, who was frowning the further along you walked.

“We just have to find the big Christmas tree,” Sohyun explained, looking back as she led the pack. “And we would if we actually hurried up.”

The eldest within the group let out an overly dramatic sigh, raking his hands through his hair. “The Christmas tree is not going anywhere,” he commented, “I don’t know what this rush is for.”

“Just because you don’t care about Santa,” Sojung huffed, crossing his arms. “Maybe you’ve become old, Uncle Seungkwan.”

Your laughter could not drown out the scoff that escaped the accused-hag’s lips. “I’m gonna tell on you to Jinsoul.”

But the way the boy only chuckled, blowing mischievous raspberries at his dear uncle, cemented how seriously he took that threat. You watched him catch up to his sister, smiling the entire time.

Seungkwan caught onto that. “Don’t encourage him.”

“What?” your smile turned playful. “Scared he’s getting your attitude?”

“Uh, excuse me!” he started, “Firstly, I’d be the happiest man alive if he became like me. This sass is more from his mother.”

You scoffed. “That was textbook Seungkwan behaviour. You’re just too conceited to realise.”

“Conceited? Big words today, _____.”

You, however, were terribly unimpressed. “That is a normal, everyday word, Seungkwan. You should probably read a book.”

“Enough now,” he said, raising a hand, “I’m goofy, not stupid.” Your hesitance in instantly agreeing with him had him gasping. “Oh my God, you think I’m an idiot!”

“The fact you just clocked this proves my opinion even more,” you restated, shrugging to dig the blow deeper. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Don’t ‘buddy’ me,” he immediately refuted, and you glanced at him, a slight irritation in his features. “I’ve made out with you enough times to deserve a better term.”

The too-casual mention of it had you quickly scanning over the children, then glaring at him once you were satisfied by their ignorance. “Why did you say it like that?”

“What?” His earlier complaint had softened, slowly morphing into a smugness which made your lips twist, and—unfortunately—made your heartbeat quicken. “Did we not?”

You thought of the week when you first kissed him at the restaurant—the gentle touch of your lips against his, the remnants of vanilla gelato and victory prevalent on your tongues. Then, your mind caught onto the different webs of your memory, flashes of heated moments after that fateful night, mouths colliding and hands wandering in more appropriate times, in more private places. No nosy flatmate caught you two in your house, and no nosier boss disturbed you in the pantry room (thank you, said-nosier boss). Yes, you would have died if your past self learned of this newfound situation, but the bastard was good, and he knew how to make you breathless—through heated arguments and frenzied kisses.

So yes, you did make out with him more times than you would like to admit in front of him. But amongst those nights, you found yourself enjoying his company outside of your workplace, and the two people who capitalised the most out of it were his niece and nephew. When they heard that you knew of a Santa who can hand free Cadbury bars out to them in Westfield shopping centre, they jumped at the idea—as if Christmas had arrived much early.

The Santa they sought was finally seen, when, walking past another wave of shoppers, there she was, in all her stuffed-suited, fake-bearded glory, asking questions you could not hear as she shook their hand, or gently let them sit atop her padded lap. Santa caught sight of you and your group, and she smiled, quickly slipping the child she tended to a chocolate bar and waving them off.

“Ho, ho, ho, motherfuckers!” was the beautiful greeting Santa offered in her unusually low, forced baritone, and you could not contain the slight crease of your shoulders as the parents nearby whirled their heads at the words. “Oh, damn, forgot other kids were waiting too.”

“I wonder how you got the job,” you mock wondered, which had the girl underneath the costume almost whacking you on the shoulder. Not very Santa-like, thus proving your point.

Your bickering was cut short when Sohyun and Sojung appeared from behind you, looking at Julie with a growing anticipation. “You’re the Santa giving out free chocolate, right?” the former asked.

“Ho, ho, ho! Yes, I am, kids!” your friend dug into her brown sack slugged beside her, fishing out the larger, classic flavour of the Cadbury bar, holding it out for the children. “Merry Christmas!”

As Sohyun thanked her, taking the chocolate, Sojung only glanced at her, confusion staining his little face. “Hey, I thought Santa was a man.”

Julie, taken aback by the statement, fixed her beard, which began to slouch. “Anyone can be Santa!”

“Yeah, but Santa’s an old man,” Sojung reasoned, crossing his arms. “You sound like you’re in your thirties.”

“Thirties—” the girl’s usual chirp cut through, but then she coughed, realising she was about to argue with a child. Lowering her voice, she merely held out the Cadbury. “Just take the chocolate, little man.”

Seeing the treat was enough to quench his burning questions on Santa’s gender identity, quickly digging into the sweetness of the chocolate bricks. Julie threw you a look, which had you snickering, sneaking closer to her.

“That was it?” Seungkwan asked, glancing at the line your friend had evoked. “People’ll do anything for free food—”

He stopped, realising that Julie was trying to sneak you three Cadbury bars in your bag, and the sight of you feigning any sense of stealth had him clamping his lips together, trying to contain his laughter.

“Have fun on your babysitting date,” she whispered to you, and you stuck your tongue out at her before turning to the said-date—because yes, this was supposed to be a date, but the children caught wind of their uncle meeting you, and begged him to talk to you.

“Three?” he inquired, animating the number with his fingers.

“Inflation’s hit us hard,” was your only excuse, but it was a measly one. Being a dessert chef meant possessing an infinite amount of chocolates in the pantry, ranging from every flavour created in the Italian peninsula.

He said so himself. “You create desserts for a living. You see chocolate puddings more than your own parents.”

“You can never have too much,” you sang out, and the children beside you hummed in agreement. “See? The council has spoken.”

“I can’t disagree then.” Seungkwan turned to the council. “Now, Sohyun, Sojung…where do you guys want to go?”

“Can we go to the toilet first?” Sojung clutched his stomach. “I think I ate the chocolate too quickly.”

“I told you to eat it slowly!” Sohyun scolded, clicking her tongue.

“You think you know the way?” his uncle asked, to which he nodded. “Sohyun, you walk with him. I don’t want you two running off alone, okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” the girl said, waving off the concern. She clutched her brother’s arm, whose face twisted in pain the more time passed. “Come on, you idiot.”

“Keep your phones on!” The man called after them as they walked to their destination, which, as the digital maps exposed, was not too far.

As the children disappeared, you watched, concern rising. “I hope Sojung’s okay.”

“He’ll be alright.” A roll of his eyes. “Unfortunately, the pigging out on things which’ll make him sick later is a trait he got from me.”

“So all the bad habits he has are from you then?”

“Only some of them,” he admitted, which had you shaking your head. “Spend enough time with them, and they’ll learn your terrible ways, too.”

“Speak for yourself,” you snarked, “I am a perfect role model.”

“Role model, huh?” He took a step closer—as if he was not close already—and roamed his eyes over you, over a particular item of clothing. “Perfect role models don’t steal from their dates.”

Your hands instinctively clutched the scarf—the red scarf which you had not returned since he engulfed you with its warmth weeks back. “It’s not stealing,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. “You’re the one who pretended to be a gentleman and gave it to me.”

“Okay then, I’ll give up the pretence.” Another step closer—a foot’s distance from you. “I’d like my scarf back.”

Realistically, you would have handed his precious scarf back without a fight. After all, it was his possession.

But today was cold, and the scarf was snug—warm. As welcoming as it had been when your head was wrapped around it. “It suits me more, though, don’t you think?” you taunted, fingers holding both ends of the fabric, the long, fringes dangling. “I rock it better, you have to admit.”

The man stared at you, taking in the words, washing over him. His hands reached out, snaking around your waist, and you had to calm your heart from beating out of your chest as he pulled you closer.

If this was the beginning of the winter, he would have chosen cruel words, shatter the fantasy he thought was forming in front of his eyes. This was not a fantasy, though, far from it—you, who had been a thorn at his side since the moment he stepped into the restaurant, had blossomed into a flower, flourishing before him in a newfound light.

He played along—not because it was not true, but because he believed the words that left his lips. “You do everything better than me.”

A sharp breath escaped you.

Never did you think a confession like that would ever come from Seungkwan.

His pride was his great strength, but also a formidable weakness. It was his self-confidence, his arrogance, even, that contributed to his successes, and—most importantly—his long-lasting rivalry with you. His belief in his perfection, his being the best out of all, was what made him who he was.

You guessed that he did not believe in it. Not anymore.

Still, you did not accept it. “A very touching statement,” you began, sliding your arms around him, “But I’ll do you one better.”

He shook his head. “God forbid you agree with me.”

You tilted your head back, gazing at him fully. “We’re equals, Seungkwan.”

He stared at you, widening his eyes as you continued. “Equal partners in our work, equal chefs in our creations…what I do, you do the same. It’s why we argued, and never won. One could not defeat the other…no matter how much we tried. Maybe we were meant to stay in this stalemate, you know?”

You smiled at him—your partner in the kitchen, your partner-in-crime. “It’s our losses in the restaurant, I believe, that brought us together in the end…and that, for me at least, is a win.”

Seungkwan felt his very nerves spark to life.

Come alive with a veracity akin to a rocket ship blasting fire from its ends, firing off to the universe beyond. He had experienced appreciation, passion, perhaps even tenderness—what you said to him in a shopping mall in a corner of London was extraordinary.

He tightened his grip at your sides, his expression starry-eyed. “You really think that?”

You melted into his hold, sneaking closer. “If I didn’t think it, Seungkwan, I wouldn’t say it.”

His heart ballooned in his chest, threatening to burst at the seams of his skin. He could not help himself, leaning in to press his lips against yours, and you welcomed him with open arms, closing in around him. You were unable to stop, curling your lips upwards at the sensation because happiness swirled in your stomach, fluttering uncontrollably, moreso because it was Boo Seungkwan who caused it—Boo Seungkwan, who was the catalyst to your butterflies.

Before he could go further, you remembered where you were, breaking away from his lips. His sudden murmur from the pull-away had you giggling, cheeks tinged rosy from the confession.

Your laughter, like little wind chimes singing in a spring breeze, had him speaking from the heart. “I couldn’t do this job with anyone else, you know…working together, what’s come out of it…” His stare had your heartbeat uneasy. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Although your face warmed at the words, you grinned cheekily at him. “Of course you would. Who else would you rely on? Jeonghan?”

“...a very fair point.”

Chucking, his hold on you strayed, one hand remaining. “Now, ______,” he began, sliding his hand over to your own, interlocking his fingers. “After the kids come back, where do you wanna eat? I’m starving.”

“I’m down for anything,” you said, tapping your fingers against the back of his hand. “But if I have to eat another Italian dessert for the next week I’m causing a massacre in the restaurant.”

“So the usual tiramisu with whipped cream on the side, then?” he offered, which had you squeezing his hand. “What? I’m not ungrateful like you. I like to eat anything.”

“Says the one who said he’d shrivel and die if he had to eat almond amarettis for the second time.”

“That’s different!” he tried to explain, “I nearly choked on one doing the trialling.”

You swung your intertwined hands. “All I hear is weak-ass excuses, Seungkwan!”

“At least I’m not advocating on adding grass to my pannacottas,” he muttered, starting to walk forwards.

You halted him, furrowing your eyebrows. “For the last time, they’re bay leaves!”

“Yeah, which shouldn’t be on my desserts!”

“Okay, don’t add them to your shitty sweets, then,” you crowed, “Cause I’m suffocating my pannacottas in them.”

His eyes began to glimmer, and you realised that he successfully baited you into irritation. “Maybe I spoke too soon on trusting you with my life in the kitchen,” he teased, but you groaned, prying your hand from his. “Hey, hey, okay, maybe bay leaves aren’t the worst garnish known to man!”

“And maybe I’m going back to counting and laughing at your losses,” you snapped, but Seungkwan was laughing, and your cheeks were burning. “One more laugh out of that big mouth of yours, and I’m throwing mascarpone cream at you. Maybe this time we’ll finally be fired.”

He stopped in your tracks, making you pause your stomping away. “I’d like to see you try,” he dared, and when you looked back at him, the challenge rising in your gaze, he felt his soul come alive.

You knew it too. “Don’t tempt me, Seungkwan. I’ll win this time.”

And as he leaned in, crossing his arms and staring you down, you held your ground, providing no room to give in. His proud smirk had you remembering the old days—and not grimacing. “Famous last words.”

A scoff was the rest of the conversation, but the showdown of your eyes, locked with his, was not over.

Yes, you both may have grown a mutual respect, even developed a fondness—but you were you and Seungkwan was Seungkwan. Perhaps battling it out with a man you rather liked would consequently make shouting at him a little easier.

As you mirrored his arrogant expression, the two of you knew that the kitchen had yet to see more battles.

Well—there was always the spring menu. Let the petty rivalry (laced with just a slight touch of affection) begin once more.

#winterwithyoucollab #seventeen imagines #boo seungkwan imagines #seungkwan imagines #seventeen fluff #boo seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen #svt

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dwaekkicidal · 4 months ago

Text

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎.' ༄࿔ L.K.

⤷ Dubcon/Noncon | Knife Play | Spanking

♱ word count: 2.3k

♱ warnings: this has darker content!! dont like? dont interact: dubcon/noncon, fem!reader, ghostface!minho, reader switches up during the ending but during the smut minho has control, knife play (1 small nick and he carves his name into readers back but its shallow), light mentions of blood, spanking, p in v with no prep or condom (be safe about this irl pls), open ending?

♱ notes: this was so self indulgent because im slowly becoming obsessed with slashers again 🥴

not properly proofread! i will go through it later in the day after i sleep <3

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The cabin you were staying at was eerily silent as you sat in the dimly lit living room. It was a rental that you had planned to stay at for a week to spend your vacation off of work and it was absolutely beautiful during the day. Though, the forest surrounding it combined with the knowledge of just how far the nearest area with people made for a rather scary experience during the night time.

Part of you was on edge as you made your way past the floor-to-ceiling windows towards the kitchen and chills ran up your spine as you stared out those same windows only to be met with complete darkness. Not even the moon was enough to cast light on the tall trees.

‘Maybe a glass of water will help.’ You had been tossing and turning in bed for hours before you gave up and settled in the living room, only to discover that there was no signal on the TV. You were lucky to have even 1 bar as you opened your phone to check the time; 2:46 AM.

It wasn’t a horrible time to be awake, but the promise of sleep would have helped with the paranoid itching in the back of your head. Anybody could break in and nobody wouldn’t know until it was too late. And even if you knew, you were a long way from any means of help-

A sudden creak in the floorboards catches your attention. Your neck snapped towards the dark hallway, then again to the huge windows as your heart raced. The Airbnb host stated that it’s an old house so it’s known to make many noises, so ‘It was probably nothing’. You repeated this to yourself over and over again as you chugged the rest of your water and turned to clean the glass, hoping the distraction would help with the anxiety.

But just as your hand wraps around the tap handle, another creak is heard and a hand wraps around your mouth. Another slides around your front and pushes a long kitchen knife against your neck. The intruder uses his whole body to roughly push you into the counter and your heart drops as you let out a scream in surprise.

The feeling of the cold counter is almost soothing as his deep, nearly robotic, voice meets your ears. “Haven’t seen you around here before… If I take my hand off your mouth, you won’t make me angry and scream for help, right?” He slides the knife along your neck, nicking the skin there slightly as a warning.

Your lack of a response makes him chuckle and he traces the tip of the knife along your cheek, “It’s not like anybody will hear you anyway, but I wouldn’t want this pretty face to get hurt. So what do you say?” You nod as best as you can in this position and let out a quiet sob when his palm releases your face.

“P-Please…Don’t kill me.” Your plea comes out in a quiet whisper, hoping the hushed voice won’t upset your attacker. If it does, he doesn’t let it be seen in the slightest.

“Shhhhh” He tuts at you and rolls his hips forward, rubbing his hard-on against your ass and forcing your hips farther into the countertop. The pinching of your skin between your bone and the marble top makes you hiss in pain, but he ignores you and rubs your hip with his now free hand.

“Let’s play a game~” He doesn’t give you time to respond before he flips you around, wrapping a hand around your neck as he roughly pins you to the counter again.

You’re finally met with his face- or what would be his face, but is instead a long, white ghost mask that would be comical if you didn’t notice the feeling of a drop of blood running down your neck from where he nicked you.

“I’m a little stressed out, so I’m gonna fuck this sweet cunt of yours. If you play nice, I’ll let you live. But if you act like a bitch, I'll kill you!”

The joyful tone in his voice causes your skin to crawl and you let out a quiet sob of fear at the deadly ultimatum. Your choices are quite slim, and you can’t deny the ache that’s starting between your legs, so you don’t take long to nod in agreement.

“Mmmm… Smart girl. Let’s get this off of you then, yeah?” He tugs at your pajama shorts and finally moves the knife off your skin, giving you just enough leeway to move around and pull your shorts down. Once they’re far enough down your legs to drop to your ankles on their own, the unknown man behind you spins you around and immediately pulls your shirt up and over your head.

He sighs almost dreamily against the mask and you watch his head tilt down as he takes in your naked torso. You can feel his stare on you for a while longer until his head tilts further and he’s met with the sight of your pretty panties- the ones that are keeping him from his “prize.”

He curses under his breath and snakes his empty hand to the back of your neck. He grasps you tightly and uses his grip there to lead you to the huge windows, pushing you against them roughly.

“What a pretty piece of ass you got here, baby.” The hand on your neck moves down in favor of grabbing a handful of your ass cheek, landing a teasing slap there as he finishes his sentences. “Might have to go home with you- make you my little pet.” You moan both at the implication of him following you home as well as the delicious sting on your ass.

The masked man chuckles darkly and lands a harsher slap on your other ass cheek. “Call me crazy but I think you like that idea. Hmmmm? Wanna be my little kitty- my little toy for me to fuck whenever I feel like it?” You were starting to get too comfortable, and he seems to realize it. So he brings you back right to where he wants you by sliding his free hand around to your tummy.

The occupied hand runs the sharp side of the knife around your back, leaving shallow lines that you can’t quite make out. But none of that matters. Not when he’s sliding his hand into your panties, rubbing his gloved fingertip through your soaked folds.

You’re almost thankful that he can’t tell through the gloves, but the stinging pain of the knife almost carving into your skin is diverting your attention from the rough circles on your clit. Thankfully, though, he finishes his “design” faster than you thought he would.

The feeling of a thick finger entering you grabs your attention, making you moan loudly and buck your hips against his hand. A muffled laugh is heard through the mask and his voice is husky as he speaks again, “Gonna be good for me and let me fuck this pretty pussy now, yeah?”

You don't respond right away and he pulls his finger out of you, pinching your clit meanly. “I asked you a question.” His partially wet glove comes down harshly on your ass and leaves a red mark in its wake.

You let out a squeak at the pain and apologize profusely before responding to him. “Y-Yes!”

“Good girl. You almost lost the game there, baby.” He laughs to himself and you watch in the reflection of the glass as he brings the knife down between your thighs. Part of you is horrified at what he might try, and the other part is rather aroused at the possibilities that run through your head.

But he shuts them all down when he slides the dull side against your thigh and leads it to your underwear. He runs his hand along your spine and leans you forward, pushing your ass out for him as the knife dips into your underwear- dull side up.

With this he slices downwards in one swoop, slicing your panties and causing you to gasp in surprise. You can almost hear the smile on his face as he shushes you and slices one of the sides next.

Your arms shake as they rest against the cold glass of the window and you sit there helplessly as he rids you of the ruined fabric. Once you’re left completely bare, he whistles in satisfaction and leans back.

His hand squeezes your ass cheek appreciatively as the hand with the knife rests at your hip, itching to touch you as well but knowing better than to let his guard down so easily. No matter how well-behaved you've been for him so far.

“Such a pretty thing. I really should keep you to myself.” He hums and bites down on your ear. You hear the knife get tossed beside you onto the wood floor before one of his hands slides into your hair, tangling with the strands there and tugging your neck backward.

All of a sudden the sound of metal hitting wood meets your ears and you see the knife lying on the floor, a couple of feet from where you two stand. Then his hands are removed from you for mere seconds as he hooks his thumbs into his pants and pushes down, hurriedly shoving his boxers down alongside his jeans.

The sound of his jeans hitting the floor makes your thighs clench and he takes notice immediately. He coos from behind you and you can almost hear the smile on his face through the mask as he slides himself through your folds a few times, teasing you and testing how far gone he’s got you.

Your desperate grinding gives him the only answer he needs and he finally pushes in, groaning at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him.

“Shit… You feel so good.” The cool plastic of the ghost mask meets your shoulder as he lays his forehead down against it.

You can’t hold back the whine that builds in the back of your throat and your nails scratch into the glass as much as they physically can as he starts to move already.

“P-Please…” You’re not so sure what you’re asking for. Maybe it was mercy. Or maybe, just maybe, all those months of research about some local town's serial killer were finally paying off.

But who needs to know that? The man behind you is completely oblivious as he pulls his hips back just to drive them back into you. You barely remember it yourself from the way his tip, thick and pulsing, rams into your G-spot.

So much so that you can feel your orgasm sneaking up so much sooner than it usually would. It eventually wracks through your body like a train as the hand in your hair tightens, holding you close to him as he slows his hips to a slow grind.

“Fffuck.. Tight little cunt, baby. But I’m not done just yet.” He picks up his pace once more and uses his free hand to caress your hips, squeezing the flesh there appreciatively before landing a slap against the same area.

He soothes it with another rub, though short-lived before his hand finds its home on your ass cheek. There he lands a series of slaps paired with his muffled moans as you clench around him incessantly.

The hand in your hair finally releases its grip only to find another on the back of your throat again. He uses this one to hold you in place, keeping your cheek pressed flush against the window as he fucks into you with no care.

He continues to use you like his personal fleshlight as he grunts behind you, legs shaking from his oncoming release. The same release that is left deep in your walls, swimming around before dripping out onto your abused folds.

You both moan in unison as you cum around him again, whining at the sharp thrusts that were meant to fuck his seed further into you.

He finally pulls out once your cunt is done milking him and he pulls out a phone from his jeans, snapping a quick photo with flash on before laughing to himself behind his mask.

While he’s occupied with his delusions, you decide it’s time to make your move.

You push his chest lightly and watch as he collapses onto the couch, head tilted up at you in amusement while his arms settle on the back cushions.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep and breathy, it goes straight between your thighs and you almost moan at simply hearing him like that as well as the confident stance he’s taken. But you have a mission on your mind.

One that includes rushing to pick up the knife from the floor and not giving him a chance to respond before you’re straddling his thick thighs and pressing the knife to his throat.

His arms stay in place on the cushions and he huffs out a laugh in pure amusement, waiting patiently for you to make your next move.

What he didn’t expect was the grinding of your now leaking cunt on his now hardening cock. He moans lowly at the feeling and goes to rest a hand on your hip, only to be met with your hand slapping it away and the other digging the knife into the skin of his neck. Karma.

“I won your game fair and square. So let’s play my game.” Your hand reaches up under the mask and tears it off his face.

He’s not sure why a potential survivor seeing his face doesn’t worry him. But when his tip catches onto your clit and you hold the knife steady against his neck, he thinks he’s just fallen in love.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz x reader #lee know imagines #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader smut #lee know x reader smut #sian’s 2024 kinktober <3

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jacaerysgf · 10 months ago

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Distractions

Summary: Despite how close the two of you are you're sick of waiting around for Jace no matter how much you like him, so you decide you’re going out on a date! but he doesn't like that.

r.q: childhood friends to lovers with modern frat boy Jace and he's like rlly popular and known to go from girl to girl. reader is like really smart and different from Jace so people get surprised when they find out you two are really close. Jace is always dragging you to parties and you’re always at his football games and he gets really protective over you. idek where im going with this 😭 but w smut too, your fics are acc amazing ty for your work 🙏

w.c: 2.5k

c.w: reader has hair (unspecified type, could be a wig wtv), Jace's anger issues, idk what locker rooms look like, cregan <3, fingering (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), not proofread (as always)

a.n: I CANT STOP WRITING FOR JACE every request of him i get becomes my priority, literally when i woke up and saw this i had to get to writing it immediately like there’s smth wrong w me, anyways hope you all enjoy <3, this ones probably not my best T_T

Knocking on the door cuts through the music playing out of your speaker while your getting ready. “Come in.” you already know who it is. Your longtime best friend and housemate Jace who comes in with a smile on his face before it turns to shock as he looks you up and down, “woah.”

You finish clamping your necklace around your neck and look at him, “what do you want?” He leans against the door with his arms crossed with an amused look. you ignore how your heart flutters at him and turn away to adjust the dress you currently had on. “i just wanted to tell you im about to head out for the game, its a little odd to get all dressed up for a football game no?” The looks falls from his face as you drop your gaze from his in the mirror and fiddle around with your hair. he says your name breathlessly as he pushes away from the frame and takes a step into the room. You finally lift your head and meet his gaze in the mirror. “I'm not going to the game tonight Jace.”

He flinches as if you had thrown something at him and stutters for a moment his face covered in pure confusion as he brings one of his hands to his neck. “what do you mean you're not coming? you always come! if this is about me eating your leftovers then im sorry i thought you left it for me-” “i have a date.”

There it is. You didn't want to tell him. Hes always been, well a little protective of you, but you mostly blame it on your introverted personality while he's more of a people person. Youve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember but he's never been interested in you not the way you wanted him to be anyways, barely staying single or without a girl on his arm for a second you don't even know the girls names or maybe that's the point. He doesn't bring them around you but you know he's with them when he returns home super late with his hair all messed up. You fear he does it on purpose, he must know you like him and he doesn't bring them around you to make you upset.

You really didn’t want to tell him. You had thought maybe he would have just left for the pregame and just shot you a text and you could have faked some sickness or have pretended to go to sleep early. You walk over to your bed sit down grabbing your shoes to put them on. His silence is off putting. and you don’t dare raise your head to look at him.

“with who?” “This guy from lab, mark.” you finish lacing your shoes and stand up, finally looking at him and noticing the blank look on his face. “Jace-” “I don’t like this. i mean i don’t even know the guy how do we know he’s not some serial killer or something? Mark? Why don’t you just push it off for a couple days, come to the game and ill find out if he’d a good guy-” “I'm going whether you like it or not.” you cut him off. You couldn’t let him stop you from forgetting about him even if it was just for a bit. You grab your purse moving to push past him only for him to grab your arm. “Jace-” “You look beautiful.” The skin where he was holding you burns. You don't say anything as he lets you go and keeps his back turned to you. “text me?”

You try to ignore the pit that forms in your stomach at his sudden change of tone. you want to say something to him, you’re not used to seeing him like this. he would usually be pestering you about how you he asked you out or did you really like him but he was quiet. The sound of a horn outside brings you back to reality and you nod at his back as if he could see you and walk out. Putting on a fake smile as your handed a nice bouquet of flowers from mark, gulping to try and swallow the pit in your stomach.

—

“who the hell does this guy think he is?” His fist slams into the wall of lockers he's pacing in front of. All his gear is put on, his helmet is laying on the bench next to cregan who can only watch his best friend act like an idiot with an annoyed face. “Who the hell are you to care? Her boyfriend? No. So you have no say in it.” Jace bites his nails as he ignores the urge to hit the wall once more. “she’s my best friend.” “and? shouldn’t you be happy she’s on a date with this guy. i like mark he’s nice. what you like her or something?”

Jace ignores how is blood boils at the idea of you now sitting in your pretty dress smiling and giggling at some other guy that's not him. that doesn’t mean he likes you…. Jace attempts to come up with an excuse in his head about why he's so upset and why he's always been so upset over you going out with other guys, he usually just tells himself he's all worried about you and then he finds some girl to take you off his mind for the night…. that doesn't mean he likes you.

Cregan watches with a raised brow as Jace has an internal conflict with himself. He expected Jace to turn to him and admit it but all he does is grumble to himself and grab his helmet walking away from him. “I don't like her.” Cregan just shakes his head and picks up his own helmet following after him, “that fucking idiot.”

—

Mark is nice. Hes cute. He told you you could order anything you wanted off the menu since he was paying. He pays attention to you when you talk. Hes not Jace. You try your best to not think about him but you can’t help it. You wonder how the game is going, you’ve never missed one of his games. Maybe you pushed it too far and should have scheduled this date for a different day, but you know if you did Jace would have managed to convince you not to go and you would have fallen into the same cycle you always do. You nod your head and hum as mark tells you some story as you phone begins to buzz. You ignore it but it just keeps on buzzing to the point even mark looks concerned. “You can check it i don’t mind, ill use the restroom.”

You let out a hushed thank you as you check you phone to see what looked like a million texts from cregan.

‘hey i know the two of you are like fighting or wtv but you gotta see him asap.’

‘never seen him lose his mind like that’

‘got himself hurt’

‘nothing too bad but he’s bleeding’

‘know he thinks it cost us the game’

‘now he wont talk to any of us not even me’

‘think his head wasn’t in it’

‘know it’s not my place but he likes you so much’

‘losing his fucking mind over you not being here and being on some date’

‘please, for his sake at least try to talk to him, know you’re busy sorry to bother but I'm worried for him’

You stand out of your seat in shock as your heart begins to race. He was hurt? He likes you? Mark hadn’t come back yet so you open your purse and throw down some bills before running out of the restaurant. You sprint your way back to campus where the field was, thankfully living in a college town meant everything being super close by, you cant hear anything other than your own racing heart and the sounds of your feet as they slam on the floor.

You slam the hallway door open and cregan and some other guys look at you in shock. You stand there and take some steps towards cregan barely being able to catch your breath. Cregan stands up and looks at you shocked, “You ran here?” You just nod as you look at him expectantly, “where is he?” He uses his thumb to point behind him to the locker room doors, “Completely alone, everyone's already left.” You nod as the guys wish you good luck and leave.

You just stare at the doors for a moment, clarity finally hitting you as you realize how ridiculous it was you just left your date and ran all the way here. You couldn't just ignore cregans message. Pushing open the door its dead quiet other than the sound of running water. You walk slowly into the room the door closing behind you louder than you expected causing you to wince before you call out his name. He doesn't answer so you walk around the wall to where the showers were and you can see him outlined in the curtain and almost gasp but you cover your mouth to prevent anything from coming out.

“Jace?” His head finally snaps up due to your voice being so close and he looks in your direction, calling out your name softly in question. “I’m here.” “What are you doing here?” He turns off the shower and you turn your back incase he stepped out of the shower. You attempt to suppress the heat and want that fills your body as you imagine him naked before shaking your head, “Cregan texted, i was worried about you.” He just hums. You wish you could see his face but you hear the curtain open and the sound of him stepping out. “What about your date?”

You freeze as you clutch your purse tighter in your hands as you let out a deep breath. “What about it?” Hes suddenly standing so close to you you can feel his breath tickling your back and you gulp. “You’re here and not there, why?” One of his hands slides down your arm to grab your clenched hand as his forehead hits your shoulder, he's takes a deep breath as he awaits your answer. “Does it matter?” You don't want him to ask because you don't want to have to answer him. you don't want to have to admit to yourself you just wanted to be with him and nobody else.

“You wanna know why it matters? Because i was so fucking mad that you weren’t here i threw the fucking game and hit my head. because nobody makes me lose my mind like you do. Needed you here and you weren’t. You were out with some stupid fucking guy and i was so pissed.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder and you try to suppress the whimper that climbs its way up to your throat. “What are you saying Jace?”

His hands move to wrap around your waist and his head moves to your neck, You can feel his wet naked chest soaking the back of your dress and the heat of his breath on your neck “You know what, That i would go find a new girl to fuck because i couldn’t have you, that i think about you all the time because i like you so much, that it makes me sick when i think about you with a guy that's not me.” He begins to suck at your neck and you now do nothing to hold back the moan you let out as his grip moves to your hips pulling you back against him closer. “You mean it?” His hands slide down to the hem of your dress and he slides his hands under it and upwards pulling your dress up to poll around your hips, “of course i do baby, can i touch you?”

You let out a strained please and he pushes your underwear aside to run a finger down your slit letting out a groan, “fuck..” He quickly sticks two fingers into you and you fall back against him, withering under his touch as he moves at a rough pace, clearly very eager to please you and his other hand comes down from your hips to play with your clit. Your knees almost buckle from the amount of pleasure but he keeps you pressed tightly against him curling his fingers.

You swear he has magic powers because as you were right about to cum he pulls out of you and you whimper. He chuckles at your reaction and twists you around to face him, “want you to come around me.” He pulls you into a heated kiss as you two frantically pull off your dress, kicking it to some random corner of the locker room along with your underwear. “I don't have a condom.” You hear him swear and mumble to himself but you cup his cheeks to stop him, “I'm on the pill.” “It’s not the same-” “what are you not clean?” “of course i am-” “Then fuck me Jace.” He looks in your eyes for any signs of hesitation and when he doesn't find any he quickly pushes himself into you.

You feel like you can’t breathe, he pushes you against a nearby wall and feverishly pounds into you as his hands move to play with your tits. Hes talking but you can’t decipher what he’s saying so lost in your own pleasure. “fuck you feel so good fuck.” You tug on his hair and pull him to kiss you, your on the brink of release as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing on your nipples and the combination of the millions of emotions racing around you. You grip on his hair tightly and he groans, “You close?” You nod you head, “Wait for me.” You open your mouth to complain but his hips begin to move faster and his hands move to your hips to slam you closer to match his thrusts. “Want to come together.” His words are slurred as he’s approaching his release. Your hands scratch down his back as he groans in your ear, taking your ear and sucking on it.

“Come.” He breaths in your ear and you do, he hisses as he feels you pulse against him, your fluid completely covering him and he cant help but follow suit. He kisses you running his hands down your arms. As the two of you settle down he makes no move to pull out of you, seeming content within you.

“I'm gonna get a fucking earful from cregan.”

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luvyeni · 1 year ago

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❛BIRTHDAY BOY!❜ ( p. sunghoon )

💬nias note: for the birthday boy , i was gonna post it yesterday but i forgot.

p. park sunghoon x exoticdancer!reader w. 1.6k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, oral ( m. receiving ), dirty talk, nothing special

— 𖦹 ( giving the birthday boy a few birthday wishes ) !

“Trust Me"

Those two words coming from jakes mouth never sat right with him — especially when it had something to so with him personally. “I’ll handle your birthday, just get ready to have fun.”

He should’ve known what his friend was planning — knowing the boy for years, he should’ve known he was gonna pick the strip club. “Ta-da!” Jake stood outside the doors to the club. “A strip club?” Sunghoon said displeased. “Don’t say it like that, how many strip clubs do you go to.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like strip clubs, he just never thought about going as often as his friends do. “Sunghoon just give it a try.” Heeseung said, patting his shoulder. “please, jake looked like he worked hard.”

Sunghoon gave in, the stood in the vip line — finally being let into their section, ordering a few bottles of his favorite alcohol. “Have fun , and let loose.” Jake said. “don’t be so uptight.”

Sunghoon decided to take their advice — it was his birthday he should have fun. He slowly started to let loose, refilling his cup multiple times as different girls came around, all different sizes, draped in beautiful lingerie’s. His friends had long gone forgotten they were celebrating them, entertaining multiple girls in the section.

“Are you not having fun?” A voice tore him from his thoughts. He turned ready to turn down whoever it was when his voice was caught in his throat. “Most people come here to have fun.”

You were perfection, literally his dream girl. your soft voice and cute almost innocent smile — and your body, adorned in a baby sheer pink babydoll lingerie set, the boob cups covered in fluff. “Oh no I am.” He said taking a sip of his drink. “are you really?”

“Oh yn.” Jake words slurred as he held the waist of a girl who was sitting in his lap. “Hi jake.” You waved, jake was a regular. “Minhee isn’t here today, so no private dance for you.” You said. “That’s fine, today isn’t about me today anyway.” He pointed to the raven haired boy in front of you. “my boy sunghoon, it’s his birthday today.”

Your eyes shifted back to the boy in front of you. “Is it?” He nodded. “Well happy birthday sunghoon.” You said gently touching his shoulder. “Thank you.” Jake sat his drink down, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Hey yn, why don’t you give the boy a private birthday show?” He dipped into his pocket pulling out his card. “Here, my treat.”

Sunghoon turned to his friend, ready to decline — but you already took his card. “Okay, im gonna go set up.” You walked away, his card in his hand. “Jake im gonna kill you.”

“Bro it’s a dance, and from yn of all people, you’re lucky as hell right now.” He said, he didn’t even have time to ask him before he was already explaining what he meant. “yn is famous around here, she doesn’t just do private shows for random people, she approaches you, not the other way around.” He said. “She approached me my first time here, and I declined and they called me stupid every time I came back for the next 3 months.”

“That’s why you’re stuck with Minhee.” You made your return, handing jake his card back. “And I get your cuter friend.” You turned to sunghoon, sticking your hand out. “come.” You said with a sweet smile. “Go sunghoon, go have fun it’s your birthday.” Heeseung encouraged. “I don’t bite.” You said, he stood up taking your hand. “Unless you want me to.”

You guided him through the club, your hands stayed interlocked, his eyes were glued to your backside, the dress barely did anything to hide your pink thong. “I can feel you staring.” You walked down the hallway of the different private rooms. “Am I not allowed?”

“You are.” You said, squeezing his hand. “I hear you’re pretty famous around here.” He said. “I guess you could say that.” You responded with quickness. “Why is that?” You opened the door, he followed you inside. “I don’t know, maybe because im cute.” You titled your head smiling. “really? That’s it?”

“You don’t think so?” He nodded his head. “No I think you’re the cutest thing in this place.” He said. “Yeah?” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Yup.” He said, placing his hands on your waist, the music was already playing, multi colored lights flashing.

You pushed him down on the couch, climbing into his lap. “Relax.” You said holding his shoulders. “It’s your birthday, let me take care of you.” You said, voice was so innocent — in contrast to the fact that you were basically grinding against him.

You swayed your hips to the music , normally you’d utilize the pole more — but he was different so you stayed close to him and sunghoon wasn’t complaining, in fact he was starting to see why you were pretty famous around here, you basically had two, personalities, that cute innocent act you put on was a fake — you were a tease.

You’d touch him just enough to make him want more, before you’d pull away leaving him to bite his lip, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He sighed as you ran your hands down his stomach, stopping at his v-line, teasingly lifting his shirt. “oh fuck you’re killing me cutie.”

You smile, running your freshly manicured nails down his thighs. “what’s your birthday wish?” You said, climbing back into his lap. “What’s something you really want?” You pulled at his chain. “If I tell you, I’ll get thrown out of here princess.” You smirked, you had him right where you wanted him. “You don’t see any bouncers in here do you?”

“Tell me birthday boy.” You whispered in his ear, he hissed when you nipped at his lobe. “Fuck, right now my biggest wish is for you to get on your knees and put my cock in your pretty mouth.” He said, his voice deep, dripped in lust. “Yeah.” You stood up, slowly sinking to your knees , his eyes followed you. “Like this?” You looked up at him through your lashes. “Yeah.” He sighed.

You reached for his jeans, undoing the button — unzipping the jeans, he lifted his hips up, and you slowly pulled them down to his ankles. He was already hard, his bulge pressing against his underwear. “You’re so hard already.” You kissed his clothed cock. “Fuck princess, that’s because you’ve ben teasing me for 20 minutes.”

You took that as a hurry up, you freed his cock, grabbing the base of his cock stroking it. “Fu-fuck.” He cursed. “You’re little hands can barely fit around my fat cock baby.” He groaned— you kissed his tip, giving you a few kitty licks. “Fuck put it in your mouth now.” You listened, opening your mouth taking him in. “Shiiiit, that’s it.” He groaned. “take more of my cock."

You relaxed your throat, fully taking him in. “Oh shit.” He moaned as you bobbed your head up and down, gagging around his length. “To-took me down that pretty little throat so easily.” He grabbed your hair that was gathered in a ponytail, guiding your head on his cock. “Fuck im gonna cum.” He hissed, a minute later you felt his cum fill your mouth.

He pulled you of his cock, cum leaking from your mouth, he brought his thumb to your lips, pushing the cum back into your mouth. “good girl, swallow for me.” You swallowed , sticking out your tongue.

“Do you have another wish?” He smirked. “oh you’re feeling generous tonight? You always this generous baby?” You shook your head no. “You’re the birthday boy.” He chuckled darkly. “Okay then get up.” He grabbed your forearm, standing you up, following behind you.

“Turn around.” He manhandled your body, pushing you down on the couch. “Fuck look at that ass.” You felt a sharp slap against your backside, squeezing your cheeks. “Sunghoon.” You moaned, holding the back of the couch as he pulled your thong to the side, pressing his cock against your ass. “Gonna fuck you.”

He grabbed the base of his cock, his tip kissed your cunt. “gonna split you open.” He pushed his cock fully in, moaning out. “Oh fuck you’re tight as hell.” He fully bottom out, pulling out, slamming back into you. “Oh fuck!” you screamed as he plowed into your sopping heat. “Fu-fuck you’re so big.”

“yeah.” He grunted, slapping your ass again. “you’re taking me like a champ baby -fuck- best fucking birthday gift.” He grunted , fucking into you harder, the walls were soundproof and you were glad cause you could definitely get in trouble, even though at the moment, you really didn’t care — more focused on your orgasm that was approaching fast. “Fuck sunghoon im gonna cum!”

He watched your ass bounce back against his pelvis, slapping it a few times. “Shit im cumming!” You screamed, your juices coating his cock. He kept thrusting — once; twice, before he pulled out jerking his cock off cumming on your ass. “Shit.”

“Did I make birthday better?” You asked. “Much better.” He asked. “Good, I don’t do this to everyone.” You said, wiping your lipstick off his neck. “You’re cute so you’re special enough.” He grabbed you by your waist pulling you close. “Special enough to let me take you out on a date?”

“You want to go on a date?” You said, you got asked on date daily, but normally by old men so you never accepted. “Yeah, it can be my last birthday wish.” He smiled cheekily, you smiled.

“okay birthday boy i'll go on a date with you.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x female reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x female reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon fic #sunghoon hard hours

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heartsonlyforchris · 17 days ago

Text

we can’t be friends- chris sturniolo

authors note: hey guys!! this is my first ever time writing any sort of fan fiction!! this most definitely isn’t my best work lol, but i really hope you guys enjoy it!! im actually really proud of this, it turned out better than i thought😭 and ik i probably need to find a divider LMAO. anyways, enjoy!!!🫶🏼

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“dude, what the fuck is your problem?” chris says while yelling at me.

i sit there, trying to figure out what to say as my eyes begin to water.

“nothing!! what the fuck is your deal? why are you so pressed?” i choke out.

“you keep hanging out with matt, why have you been ignoring me?” he yells, as i can tell he’s about to get upset.

“why do you care? are you jealous or something? not everything is about you!” i yell.

“watch the attitude.” he grunts.

“or what.” i say while looking at him directly in his eyes.

as i wait for him to respond, i start to see this look in his eyes. not anger, not sadness, but hunger. a way he’s never looked at me like before. my stomach flips. for as long as we’ve been friends, we’ve flirted here and there as a joke, since we always mess around, but his eyes are telling me that it might not just be a joke.

he laugh, with a snarky grin on his face.

“oh ill show you. get on the bed. now.”

my stomach drops. he’s never been like this before, and i don’t know if he’s joking or not. i stare at him blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“now.” he says in a growl.

he pushes me onto the bed, as i fall onto my back and my cheeks turn bright red.

i prop myself up with my arms as chris starts walking closer and closer towards me. my heart begins to race. “we’re best friends, we shouldn’t be doing this. we’ve known each other since we were kids.” i thought to myself, but at the same time, my pussy starts to throb, aching for his touch.

as he gets on top of the bed, he pins me down and begins to messily make out with me. our tounges dance together, it’s like our mouths were made for each other.

he starts toying with my sweatpants and my thong, and i lift myself up to help him take it off of me. he gets my gesture, and looks at me while taking it off.

“fuck.” he whispers.

he runs his hands down my body, as my body shivers from his touch. i start aching for his fingers. i pull on his shirt and take it off of him. i run my acrylic nails down his chest, admiring him as much as i can in this moment.

he steps back, taking off his pants and his boxers, and i do the same with my top.

“no bra? fuck ma you’re killing me.”

i smirk, seeing his dick twitch. he gets back on top of me and his mouth instantly attaches to my nipple. i arch my back, already overwhelmed with pleasure. he then leaves love marks all over my body, all the way until he reaches my throbbing pussy. he then kisses my thighs until his head is lined up with my entrance. he then attaches his mouth to my cunt, and i begin to moan in response. he sucks and licks my clit, hitting every. damn. spot.

i grab the sheets in response, overwhelmed with pleasure. fuck he knows what he’s doing. i begin to grab his hair as he’s face to face with my aching core, and he grunts as i pull on his hair.

“fuck chris, im- im- im getting close”

“already? you don’t get to cum until i say so. go it?”

i try to respond but all that comes out are scattered moans.

“answer me.” he says in a growl as he removes his mouth from my leaking cunt.

“y-yes. got it.” i manage to get out in a breathy moan.

he then attaches his lips back to my cunt, going even harder than before. i let out a yelp, feeling that im getting closer and closer.

“chris. fuck. im so close please.” i whimper.

“go ahead, you’ve been such a good girl. you got this.”

just his words send me over the edge, as I squirt all over his face while cumming, and he licks up every last drop.

i lay, trying to catch my breath, and he unexpectedly flips me over onto my stomach.

“ass up, get on all fours.”

i shakily arch my back, getting on all fours with my ass in the air. he smacks my ass before lining himself up with my enterance.

he doesn’t even hesitate to, slamming his cock into my pussy. i let out a load moan, the pleasure becoming too much.

“fuck ma, you’re so tight. it’s like this pussy was made for me.”

i whimper in response, his words making my pussy throb. as i begin to slow down, he notices and begins to insert his two fingers inside my leaking cunt. i let out a yelp, completely overwhelmed with the amount of pleasure.

“fuck chris. i-im so close. please let me cum.”

“go ahead baby, i can feel you getting close. im right there with you. come all over my cock angel.”

i let out a last loud moan, as i release all over him, and he wasn’t far behind as he fills up my pussy to the brim with his seed.

i feel empty as he pulls out. he then goes to get a damp towel, cleaning up the mess we made.

“cmon pretty girl, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower, yeah?”

i smile and nod my head as he picks me up bridal style, carrying me to the bathroom.

“just letting you know, you’re never getting rid of me now. we need to do this again.”

i smile and laugh, while kissing him on the cheek, following him into the shower.

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hope you guys enjoyed it!! i actually enjoyed writing this and it’s not too bad considering it’s my first blurb hehe. but leave any requests for anything you want me to do in the future!!🤍

taglist: @sweetshuga @chrisissobabygirl @strnilolover @solarsturniolo @hearts4werka @chrisbunnys @maliabakerscurls @ghostface712 @endereies @sturniololuv08 @m4ggvt @natalie69sworld

( oh and let me know if you want to be added or removed !)

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #oldermenwh0re

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kryptznnn · 3 days ago

Note

Hiya!

I hope you're doing well

I had sorta of a specific request fem! reader x Bakugo first time (nsfw)? Reader and Bakugo known each other since middle school and hated each other's guts but then in the first year of ua thing start to change... Like a enemies to rivals to lovers thingy

And they confess to each other a day before the final war

Now it's several months after that and when Bakugo takes reader for hiking on the weekend but then end up having their first time in the hot springs?

Sorry if it's too much! Thankss!!❤️✨

♛/♡- Take It Easy

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➸ INTERESTS; - aged up! katsuki bakugo x f!quirk-using reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - (requested submission) Before the final war, Katsuki had made you promise to him your safety and future with one another, and you did. It wasn’t expected for either of you however for you to end up in a coma after the battle. After waking up you hadn’t expected everything to take a turn for the better so quickly.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.5.8k, mentions of memory loss, comatose mentions, reader in a hospital patient, fast recovery, angst, fluff, kissing, vacation mentions, smut, p in v, orgasm mention (both f and m), etc.

➸a.i; - im so sorry this is so late oh my god, ive been going through lots of loads but im bulldozing through other works!! bare w me!

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“I love you”

The words echoed in your mind as you sat in your hospital bed, accompanied by concerned family. For the first time ever possibly, you saw your father cry, he never did. The entire situation just an hour ago was intense and very emotional, you hadn’t even known, but apparently you were in a coma.

And not for a short period of time, because when you had asked if it was for a week or a month your mother only scoffed before crying again. Your father was the one to break the news to you saying it had been nearly over half a year. You felt your heart race and breathing begin to quicken when you heard his words, quickly lunging for your phone that had been handed to you and checking the year.

You began to cry, harder than before now when you realized what had happened. After the battle you were fatally injured, but all of your wounds were long healed now, even the scars were faded, but over half a year of your life had been gone. Your family, your friends, birthdays, holidays, memories, all of it had gone to waste.

After your settlement and small discussion with your family you couldn’t help but think about your friends, or more importantly Katsuki. His confession and promise still ringing in your head as before as you sat off and stared into space.

It’s been over half a year, maybe things have changed even more than you thought. He could’ve moved on or even forgot about all of you and everything that had happened. Either that or he was too embarrassed to even see you. A frown quickly appeared on your face as you gripped your covers softly.

Your family immediately took sign of your reactions but before anything else could be said or done, a nurse had soon walked in saying everything had been cleared and you were free to go. As you prepped yourself and changed your clothing you had felt your phone buzz in your pocket, but you hadn’t paid it any mind and continued on with your night.

You helped your family pack the car as majority of your stuff was with you in the room until you had woken up. In all honesty after hearing half a year has passed you were surprised you were still alive, let alone that no one had given up on you during your time period of being here.

As you were on the road with your parents you asked them about it, they had responded saying that over the months you had progressed. Slight movements or even weak speech, and they knew that they still had a shot with you. It was more of you being lost within your own mind during the period, and the possibility of your quirk keeping you in a comatose like state out of fear.

That made sense for a moment, at least satisfactory towards you. As you pulled your phone from within your pocket you had also been given back your old headphones, smiling as you connected them to your phone before playing music. As you went through your phone with messages or social media you were surprised to see hundreds of messages and notifications all in your favor, entirely overwhelming you.

You made it your mission for this week before going to bed every night to speak to each and every single one of them. Speaking of what had happened and that you were back to your full potential and thanking them for their prayers and support over the months. Some of them cried and wanted to immediately come and visit you, but you informed them already that you’d have to clear that with your parents first as they didn’t want you to be too overwhelmed.

After some time had passed you looked over the contact on your phone, hesitating to call you. You had hundreds of missed calls from him, and you wondered why if he knew where you were. Katsuki knew you were in the hospital and your parents never seized to speak of how he would leave his classes just to spend time with you here.

Apparently the first time you seemed responsive in the hospital he was there, and they had seen him smile for the first time. He would read to you, play music for you, and even just speak about his day. Everything hit you as hot flashes or blurs, and you weren’t exactly able to pinpoint the voice to the face from those long nights.

It was slightly surprising to say the least, no one had taken him as the romantic or caring type. Well, you knew he was, that’s what he had told you when he confessed to you before the war, as you did to him. Maybe it was his own way of coping with what had happened, the promise you shared with one another played back in your head.

"I’ll be waiting for you after all of this, I promise I’ll be safe, don’t cry.” He spoke to you, wiping your face slightly before smiling and leaving you behind with the other girls. Now here you sat in your room after half a year from then, different bedsheets and stuffy air, pressing ‘call’ on his contact list.

You listened to your phone ring for a while before checking the time at the top left corner, immediately hanging up once you realized how late it had been. Since the two of you were young, he never slept late, always an early bird. He hated how much you’d lecture and bully him about it calling him a grandpa, and he was always quick to insult you in return.

It was funny honestly thinking back to it all, the two of you seemed to despise one another in middle school, quick to throw insults and even get into physical fights where you’d have to be separated. Over time as you two matured and entered high school it wasn’t missed how the atmosphere seemed the change, your friend groups merging as you two had genuine priorities instead of just messing around with one another.

As much as you tried to avoid him it seemed nearly impossible, the universe going against your wishes and placing the two of you in situations almost constantly. Eventually the two of you had gotten closer and kept the label as friends, and surprisingly Katsuki was the first to come to you, mature enough to apologize for the past and all that’s happened between you two.

You too had apologized for your actions, knowing you were a handful and far from perfect when you were caught on a bad day. It seemed almost so sudden afterwards you couldn’t help but feel an attraction towards him, or possibly the attraction you had prior becoming stronger and transforming into something neither of you had expected.

At first when the others joked and placed the two of you together as a couple for pranks it bothered you, you would deny immediately and move on towards different things as Katsuki only got angry. Sooner than later as the jokes became more and more the two of you had just stopped arguing and defending it, as you thought he stopped because he was tired of it.

For someone who could argue for hours he sure seemed quiet towards the allegations of any romance or crushing happening between the two of you. You would only look away feeling your face warm slightly as you listened to your friends' troubling words, laughing afterwards to look over at Katsuki, who wore a small smile on his lips, only for you.

You tapped your knee before deciding to send him a text instead, hopefully able to read it when he woke up. As you began to type your mind wandered over what might’ve happened over the past year. If anyone had moved or gotten together, maybe by some miracle graduated early and continued with their training to become heroes.

[You: Hey, I know you’re asleep, when you wake up call me? I’m back home now and you’re the only person I haven’t had the chance to talk to]

You reread the message before hitting send, ensuring that was probably the most formatted message you could send. It was also similar to the same things you had said to others on the phone or in text messages to those that couldn’t stay on the phone.

You quickly got ready for bed afterwards as you charged your phone and said your goodnight to everyone before heading off. Surprisingly you fell asleep rather quickly than before, now dozing.

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You awoke to your mother knocking on your door and waking you up. You sat up groggily as you heard her words, slightly slurred in your ears but she ended up repeating herself as you took your covers off.

“You have a visitor, they’re waiting for you downstairs, and also pack a bag, you’ll be on a trip for a while.” She said before waving you off and closing the door to give you privacy.

You cursed mentally thinking of how random the scenario sounded. You had just been discharged a little over 24 hours ago and now you’re going on a trip? It all seemed so sudden to you but to your mother it seemed as if she had already known and everything was planned.

You only shrugged it off and went to the bathroom you had familiarized yourself with before preparing yourself. You soon got ready and washed up before making your way back to your room and began packing. You packed your old clothing, makeup, anything a girl could for any trip imaginable into a suitcase and carry-on bag. Grabbing your other essentials such as your chargers and wallet leaving them in the outside pockets before making your way into the living room.

As you were lost in thought you checked your messages, eager to see who had answered you, or more specifically if Katsuki had. To your dismay he hadn’t, only leaving your message on seen early this morning around 7. You checked the time before announcing your presence in the kitchen, 11:27am.

“Good morning, I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to pack so I kind of packed everything? I got a bathing suit too just in case.” You mentioned awkwardly looking at your suitcase that had dragged behind you before looking into the kitchen to see your mother. She only nodded and pointed towards the dining room, making you leave your bag behind as you peered behind the wall to see your father sitting down chatting with someone.

“Katsuki…” you breathed in disbelief when you saw the familiar haircut of the boy. He turned his head quickly, cutting off your father before immediately pushing back his chair and pulling you into a hug you tightly. To which you hugged him back and practically sobbed into his shoulder, as you quickly pulled back and wiped your face you cupped his face with your hands, examining him.

He had so many new scars you had never seen before, or any that you would remember for the most part. It was so good seeing him, it felt as if you two had spent a lifetime apart. Being around one another since middle school hadn’t helped the fact you were gone for so long either. He wore a sad smile on his face as he looked at you, his hair was different, the same color but he must’ve had an undercut from where you were standing.

Whatever it was it suited him, he’s changed so much and yet so little in just barely a year. You knew it wasn’t the same for you though, if anything from the time you spent in the hospital you had definitely shed a few pounds and your hair had grown longer, not being able to get as much nutrients as you had when woken.

“You haven’t changed, at all.” He spoke, keeping his hands at your sides as he examined your figure and face, you only shook your head and smiled before pointing to the large scar on his cheek.

“I could heal this for you, you know? Don’t have to keep it forever, it changes your face so much.” You spoke as you rubbed it slightly, he shook his head and ushered you to take a seat beside him, your breakfast already being there. You obliged and sat down beside him taking a bit of the food in front of you before he spoke.

“Nah, I like it this way. Plus, everyone else thinks it makes me look badass.” He spoke, nodding to himself out of approval, you only laughed at him, covering your mouth as you ate. Without you even realizing your parents had both left the area, possibly going to the living room or their bedroom who knows.

You finished your food quickly as you listened to Katsuki speak of everything that had happened with him over the past year. He made sure to fill in every detail and not leave out anything, seeing your confused, upset, excited, or disgusted expressions at his words, smirking at each of them.

As you cleaned yourself up and listened to his plans, he had spoken to your parents prior. For when you were discharged, he wanted to take you out properly to celebrate with you, as he had planned too after the battle, but was unable too because of your condition. The dots clicked in your head as to why your mother had asked you to just now pack everything you could as you had a surprise awaiting you.

Till now it was still a surprise, as Katsuki refused to reveal the destination of where you two were headed after you said your goodbyes to your family. You two shared excessive conversation the entire trip, only taking a little under an hour to arrive as he took the highway.

You had been in his car before, only once a twice before hand after his small confession between the two of you. He had taken you out several times, the two of you enjoying the time together, however now felt different. You knew how much had changed, but you just didn't expect you'd been out for so long.

You appreciated how much he tried to take your mind off of it when you confessed how you really felt, feeling as if you lost a large piece of yourself. He never failed to make you laugh and feel as if nothing had changed between the two of you, and honestly it hasn't.

After his confession just days before he had gotten matching necklaces for the two of you. You loved to ridicule him on it, never taking him for the sappy type or extreme lover type of person, but you could see how honestly. Deep down under that tough layer of attitude and hardships was just a caring man, and you appreciated everything he had done. He wasn't afraid to hide it either, he confessed it as he held it between his fingers showing it to you as he drove.

The only time it wasn't out for all to see was when he was out on his minor hero duties, tucking it within his uniform as a safety precaution. By some miracle during the battle, you had kept yours, expecting it to be lost in battle. It stayed on until now, and you fidgeted around with your own as he showed you with a smile before looking out the window to the side, watching the sunset as several colors mixed into the sky.

He opened the window for you, but not entirely. You closed your eyes and rested partial of your head and arm against the window as you felt the wind blow into your hair. It felt peaceful, it was peaceful, you were having so much fun and couldn’t wait for what was in store later on in the day once you arrived at your destination.

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"You brought me to a springs resort?" You asked, stepping out of the car raising a brow as Katsuki stood at your door, closing it behind you. He only nodded before going over to the trunk of his car and opening it.

"Yeah, but we'll be doing plenty of stuff this week, wanna get you back in your vibe n' have some fun." He spoke, now getting both your suitcase and bag along with his own, holding them in each hand. You were quick to take your luggage from him as he complained about it, before locking his car and speed walking ahead of you.

You only laughed a small while and followed right behind him, listening closely to his small conversation with the receptionist. You watched him pull out a card that you hadn't recognized before thanking the receptionist and quickly locking arms with you before walking off.

You raised a brow at him as the two of you made it over to the room number you were sure to memorize from the receptionist's words, '163'. You still couldn’t wrap your head around everything that’s happened to you in just the past two weeks from waking up from the hospital.

It was a lot to deal with, and you were surprised with just how well you were handling it. You’d heard of others and even seen movies of how people were after waking from a coma, losing memories, constantly fatigued, practically shifting into a different person, and yet here you were, stronger than ever. Maybe it was your quirk helping you with the most of it, but you felt fine, better than fine, you felt perfect.

Although times have changed and you’ve missed out on a lot of things, to Katsuki you were always there. Even if he was tired throughout his worst days of training or duty, he’d still stop by the hospital just to talk his feelings out.

You admired that about your relationship, the two of you weren’t all loud and public, because that didn’t matter. What mattered was how you too felt about one another and didn’t let anyone come between you two. Katsuki wasn’t a vocal person; he wasn’t the type to be out there or express himself all the time.

He was more of a physical person, the definition of ‘actions are louder than words'. He was never afraid to hold your hand or stick close to you wherever the two of you were, and you loved it. Like right now, how his hands were full as he held luggage from the car and the key to open the door and yet still kept his arm linked with yours.

He let you walk in first and was quick to follow behind you, placing the bags down by the door side and following in your steps. You took time to scan the room before turning to him quickly, a wave of dizziness hitting you before you hunched over holding your head.

He was quick to come to your side, his hands holding your shoulders and ushering you to side down. He knelt in front of you as you sat, caressing your cheek with a hand before placing it on your forehead with a frown.

You quickly swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes and scoffing. Irritation was quick to come flooding into your chest, you were perfectly fine. You’re here for vacation, not to be babied, there’s no way this was happening now of all times.

“I’m fine, I just missed my step.” You said, earning a raised brow from Katsuki, who now sat with his legs crossed in front of you while your legs were planted on the floor from the edge of the bed.

“You missed your step because your dizzy, that move was too quick for you, js take it easy.” He spoke, tapping your knee before getting up to get the bags in front of the door. You only watched him with a slight frown, maybe this vacation wasn’t going to be as much fun as you thought.

You were going to get up, but hesitated, anxiety slowly replacing the irritation in your chest from earlier. You wanted to help, especially with your own bags, even as Katsuki insisted, he had everything handled, it wouldn’t kill him to have a little help.

You only sat there in your thoughts, debating as you chewed on the inside of your cheeks. Initially you gave up with a sigh, now laying flat back down on the bed with a thud, causing Katsuki to perk his head up.

“I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about there only being one bed.” He spoke, you only turned your head and smiled softly, listening to him as he walked out of the bathroom and began checking the drawers in the room.

“I was going to say something before I toppled over.” You spoke in honesty, closing your eyes as you did so. It was the only reason you had turned around so suddenly, prepared to make a joke out of it before the situation escalated far from what either of you two had expected.

You heard shuffling from your side before feeling the bed sink as he sat next to you. You turned your head to look up at him with a smile, to which he returned the favor. Just as you did so a thought popped up in your head that you had no choice but to say aloud.

“Sorry for not being there for your birthday.” You said in a joking manner, nudging him in efforts to laugh with you as you began giggling. You soon stopped and looked at him with a look of regret when his smile formed into a straight line, now turning his head to look at the wall.

Honestly, if he were to speak on the situation, he wasn’t sure if he would be more hurt to see your reaction if he told you what happened or just remembering it all together. Whatever outcome was to show he was sure he wasn’t going to say even a word of everything.

Throughout the whole day you had always asked him how he was doing, and now he was happy, perfect even. He had gotten back the one thing that he couldn’t fathom losing, his mother had always spoken of how some people grieve differently and he never understood until your accident.

Katsuki hadn’t grieved, whether distance relatives who passed which he had to attend their funerals, or past pets that’ve run away, he never grieved. He was so quick to channel any other emotion he was feeling into rage that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself while you were gone.

His parents asked him countless times what he wanted for his birthday, whether it was a new car or anything they could afford. Just to cheer him up they even mentioned having a party or getting his favorite kind of cake, but when his response to what he wanted was you they could only turn to one another with a frown.

For the first time in all of his years of celebrating his birthday he cried. He wasn’t sure as to why he couldn’t stop, but whenever you came to mind, he just couldn’t help it. His entire room was filled with you, framed pictures you’d placed on his dresser, or the shoes and hair ties you’d purposely leave, all of it stayed in his room, always left untouched. Not to mention the fact alone that he went on to call your phone countless times just to hear your voicemail.

That day was also one of the first times he hadn’t come to visit you where you rested, and the guilt nearly ate him alive. It broke his mothers' heart to see her only child this way, and it hurt even more knowing she couldn’t console him and say everything would be alright when she herself didn’t even know if it was true.

So, he decided to close all of it off, not let it go and erase it, there was no erasing it. It was easier holding onto you now and pushing to move forward than hold onto the past of everything that’s happened. He knew all couples went through situations that would impact their relationship, but if strong enough they’d overcome it, that’s simply what’s happening now.

“It’s okay” he spoke, his voice hoarse as he stood up to look outside, seeing that it was getting late as the colors of the sky were drained. He turned to you, now sitting up on the bed remembering his plans for the night. Thankfully the two of you had eaten before arriving here, completing the easiest task before this one.

“Are you okay?” You asked, now getting out of the bed with caution as you made your way up to Katsuki, opening your arms to offer a hug. He cocked his head to the side before smirking at you, leaning over to embrace you before kissing your cheek.

“Did you pack a bathing suit? Got something I wanna show ya’.” He spoke, grinning at you as he pointed out the door, you only nodded to his question, curiosity now gnawing at your brain. “Go in the bathroom and put it on, I’ll wait for you.” He spoke cheerfully you only nodded awkwardly as you went to do so.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You were currently walking blindfolded with Katsuki in front of you, or at least you hoped he was. He was holding your hand tightly as he walked slowly, ushering for you to not remove your blindfold. It was cold, and not just because you were wearing your two-piece bathing suit, but because of the cold air that blew from behind you. You could practically feel the goosebumps ridden all over your skin.

"Y'know I had planned this to be a hiking trip, but I didn't wanna take any risks with ya'." He spoke, now placing both of his hands on your shoulders and standing from behind you before removing your blindfolds. "So, we're choosing the safer option tonight." He finished, watching your reaction as you opened your eyes to see the hot springs in front of the two of you, and surprisingly vacant.

He had explained everything to you in order to calm some of your nerves down, this was simple and sweet, he had planned everything out since before the great battle, but the aftermath pushed back everything. Even so, when he woke up in the middle of the night to see a missed call from you and his other friends texting him about your status, he was quick to rebook his reservation and pay everything off late and let your parents know it early morning.

He was sure this was a perfect idea, it was safe, and the water was warm, of course it was safe, anywhere with him was safe. He too had never let go of your hand, only intertwining your fingers with one another as he smiled at you softly, pulling you deeper into the water until the warm waves clashed against your shoulders and his torso repetitively with your actions.

"You look so beautiful" was all he said, you smiled widely and looked off to the side, nodding as a 'thank you' and placing your hands on your arms crossing them before undoing it as your bathing suit strap loosened and fell. You were quick to toss it back over your shoulder properly before Katsuki took notice of it, raising a brow.

"Sorry, it's kind of loose on me, I haven't worn it in... a while." You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you thought back on everything. It wasn't surprising that in the time that had passed you'd lost weight, but even before hand you hadn't really liked speaking or boasting on your body, now it felt as if things were unfamiliar to you, and you weren't sure how to handle it.

"I'll fix the straps for ya, js' turn around." He spoke, positioning himself upright against one of the rocky walls behind the two of you. You only nodded and obliged, fixing yourself properly against him as you held onto the top of your bathing suit, looking away at anything to ease your mind of the tension that circled you two.

It was normal to have tension, you two were a couple, this is a couple thing. You took a deep breath, exhaling softly as you felt Katsuki's fingertips brush against your back and shoulders, adjusting your straps. He was gentle and his hands were warm, relieving you of the previous goosebumps you had. He had moved your tied hair to the side, gently placing his hand over your neck in a swift movement before lowering himself to kiss you on your upper shoulder, making you shudder slightly.

You gave in of course, being taken by surprise before but now relaxing a bit in his hold, he was quick to lower both hands now, embracing you from behind. You smiled to yourself softly as you closed your eyes and rested your head back on his chest, feeling him press a kiss on the top of your head before speaking.

"I missed you, a lot." He said, you chuckled a bit and shook your head at his words, feeling flattered he felt that way and that you were able to make him feel that way. Honestly if you were to travel back in time to you 10 years ago there was no way you would've expected to get this far with Katsuki, then again here the two of you are.

"Careful, your extra soft sweet spot is showing, thought you wanted everyone to know you're badass." You spoke with a smile, hearing him scoff at your joke as you laughed, he only held you tighter before speaking again.

"I feel more comfortable with you" he said with a sigh, making you frown slightly with sadness. You only turned to him and flashed a smile, letting the guilt that sat heavily in your chest die down as you brought your hands up to his face and caressed it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I swear it." You said sternly, nodding as you looked into his eyes, he only smiled and turned his head to the side, kissing your hand. Without any hesitation he leaned down to kiss you passionately, and you nearly immediately gave in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him in deeper.

He was quick to respond, lowering his hands that were wrapped up around your back lower, underneath your bottom in a way to saddle you up. You jumped slightly and slowly, the water slowing your movements, but it was just enough to get you into his arms and up on him as the two of you continued to exchange kisses.

You were the first to pull away, locking eyes with him as you caught your breath, as he did his as he placed you down back into the water smoothly. You watched as he diverted his eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with you, you quickly followed his face and stood in front of him, smiling and nodding to him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He asked, his face covered in worry and concern to what you two were speaking of, taking things to the next step. You replied back to him with a firm answer and nodding with a smile again, kissing his cheek as a way to calm him a bit.

Oh, and trust it definitely worked, because as of now he had you pinned against the rocky walls underneath him as your moans echoed in the corner against the warm waves bouncing between the two of you. Your arms were flapped over his shoulders as he kissed your face all over, kissing the corners of your mouth trying to get you to kiss him again as you were distracted, focusing on trying to make this moment last longer before your second orgasm of the night began to build up.

You were also attempting to be as quiet as possible; it wasn't easy when Katsuki was purposely trying to fish noises out of you, angling your hips higher to thrust into you over and over again, grunting into your ear. You were hot and sticky, and your heart felt as if it was bursting out of your chest from such a euphoric moment you haven't went through before.

You were unaware of how much time had passed by but honestly, you wish you could stop time itself just to stay in this moment. Katsuki was so sweet with you, practically babying you through your previous orgasm and doing the same this time, he was so full of passion like you've never seen before.

The pit of your stomach began to tighten again as you dug your fingernails into the sides of his arms and shoulders as he penetrated you, the faint sounds of your sticky flesh clapping against one another echoing against the rocky walls.

"Kats... slow down, I-"

"Easy, easy, you close? I got ya'" He cut off, kissing the side of your face quickly before reaching one of his hands down towards your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion against the water. Your moans grew louder, now clashing your head down against his collar bones feeling your head spin and the heat between your legs get worse.

It hadn't helped that you two were in the water, it had splashed against your clit and nipples numerous times and every time felt more overwhelming than the last. There it was, that heat getting higher and higher with the coil getting tighter and tighter in your abdomen, without a second thought you threw your head back, just an inch away from hitting the rock walls.

It was written all over your face how unstable you had become, how close you were, Katsuki could read it all over your face the same way you could see the same expression on his face. He looked so handsome to you, his eyes shut tight as if trying to concentrate on his own orgasm.

Wrong, he was focusing on holding it in, not wanting to reach his peak before you. He had already taken two breaks before to try and stop the buildup, but he was so tired, his body was giving out, he was certain he wasn't going to last a minute longer. He was right about that, because right after you reached your climax only a few seconds after he was quick to pull out of you, groaning loudly into your shoulder as his body jerked forward.

It had taken a while for the two of you to catch your breath, yours a little longer than Katsuki, making him worry somewhat before coming down from his high. There wasn't a moment shared afterwards between the two of you where there wasn't any skin-to-skin contact, and you loved it.

"Let's finish this night in the bedroom don't you think?"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn 🌸my main navigation

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motherismotheringggg · 2 months ago

Text

power play 🗄️

summary: you and cooper are office rivals with tension that could be cut with a butter knife

type: cooper koch x fem! reader (i obvi know cooper is gay, this is just fiction)

tags/warnings: handjobs, fingering, passionate kissing, oral (f! receiving), p in v unprotected sex, cream pie

author’s note: i had been wanting to write something inspired by cooper in these glasses for a MINUTE so this was fun. also if you sent me a request, just know im working on it!!! anyway enjoy and please gimme feedback if you have it

word count: 3499

🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️🗄️

Team meetings were always a drag, and this one was no different. Your laptop sat open, toggling between the agenda and a crossword puzzle on NYT Games.

“Congratulations to Y/N for closing the marketing deal earlier this week!” the team lead announced, breaking your concentration.

You perked up, flashing a confident smile as applause filled the room. Glancing around, you nodded graciously and threw a playful wink at a few coworkers.

“And a congrats to Cooper as well—he’s presenting his portfolio to the partners this week!”

The applause continued, but you stifled a groan, instead rolling your eyes with a sarcastic grin.

“Some of us tip-tap on social media, and others actually crunch numbers—but hey, we’re all working hard, right?” Cooper quipped, his smirk sharp as ever.

You didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m sorry—if we’d known counting to ten was so hard, we’d have thrown you a parade,” you fired back, voice sugary sweet with a sting.

His smirk faltered, replaced by a hard squint and the clench of his jaw. For just a moment, his polished demeanor slipped, and you couldn’t help but savor the victory.

“Careful,” he muttered, leaning in just enough for you to hear. “I’ll make you pay for that later.”

The challenge in your tone sent a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your belly, “I sure hope so”, you said through a smirk.

-----

This push-and-pull had been building for weeks, a perfect storm of animosity and smoldering tension. Everyone in the office knew you and Cooper were rivals, constantly outperforming and excelling in your respective projects.

But for Cooper, it wasn’t jealousy that fueled him—it was fascination. Your confidence captivated him, the way you balanced grace and self-assuredness, never downplaying your success but never arrogant about it either. You were magnetic, a challenge he couldn’t resist.

Most women bent to his charm, but not you. When he crowded your space or accidentally brushed against you, you’d offer nothing more than a sly smile before carrying on. It drove him mad.

Meanwhile, his interest was obvious to you—the lingering glances, the way his eyes traced your legs in a mini skirt or lingered when you leaned over a desk. You weren’t blind to it, and you relished every second of his quiet frustration.

You kept teasing him, savoring every stolen glance and clenched jaw, until about a week ago.

-----

It had been a long day, and the two of you were stuck in the office late, prepping for a Zoom call with partners in a different time zone. To avoid technical issues, you both stayed behind, working through the fatigue to ensure everything ran smoothly.

After the call dragged on, you split the task of finalizing meeting notes, the office eerily quiet in a way that made even small moments feel charged.

In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter scrolling on your phone as the coffee machine whirred. Then, as if on cue, Cooper appeared.

He strode in purposefully, making direct eye contact before heading to the sink to rinse his tumbler. The air shifted immediately, though you tried not to show it.

“Good job on the call,” he said, his voice low and casual, though weighted.

You glanced at his back, noting the way his muscles flexed under his light blue button-up. Smirking, you replied, “Of course. I always deliver…you weren’t too bad yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh, drying his hands and turning to leave, only to pivot suddenly and close the space between you. Planting his arms on either side of you, he boxed you in, his body looming close enough for you to catch the woodsy warmth of his cologne.

Tilting your head, you met his eyes with a challenging gleam. “Need to get something off your chest, Koch?” you teased, voice calm but daring.

His gaze dipped to your lips, his smirk sharp as he leaned closer, heat radiating from him. “You love playing this game, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice rich and edged with something darker.

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your composure, leaning forward just enough to narrow the space. “Who says it’s a game?”

His jaw tightened, hands clenching against the counter as the tension between you crackled, the air thick enough to drown in.

For a moment, you thought he might hesitate—he’d never made a move before and clearly wasn’t used to a woman who challenged him. But then his hands gripped your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, and his mouth crashed into yours.

The kiss was frantic, his breath heavy as he devoured you. His lips were rough, his tongue insistent, drawing a soft sound from you.

Your hands weren’t idle, fumbling to undo the buttons of his shirt. As the fabric parted, your fingers grazed over his warm skin and the hard lines of his chest, your nails scraping lightly. He shuddered under your touch.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he groaned against your lips, his voice low and strained. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. “You’ve been such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to make him hiss. “And yet,” you murmured, your voice dripping with challenge, “you never stopped chasing.”

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as his fingers dug into your skin. Stepping closer, he pressed himself against you, his hard cock straining against his pants.

“I can play nice just this once,” you purred into his ear, reaching for his belt. His breath hitched as you wrestled with the buckle, his lips continuing their trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

Freeing him from his pants, you pushed him back slightly, creating just enough space. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you slowly licked your palm, never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck... you’re so fucking hot,” Cooper breathed, his voice ragged. Wrapping your hand around his length, you began to stroke him, deliberate and slow. His breathing stuttered, his shoulders dropping as a deep grunt escaped his lips.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry, each word heavy with satisfaction. “You’re such a mess, Koch.”

His eyes snapped to yours, blazing with desire and frustration, a shaky smile tugging at his lips. “Are you—” he started, but his words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as your hand tightened, your wrist swirling expertly.

“Am I what, baby?” you teased, your lips curling into a smug smile as you quickened your pace. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

He exhaled a shaky laugh, gripping the counter behind him for support. “Are you... gonna let me... fuck you?” he managed, his voice strained but tinged with grudging admiration.

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning in so your breath ghosted over his neck, your hand never faltering. “But I like you like this.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But the way his body reacted to your every movement—how he twitched in your hand, how his breathing hitched whenever you changed pace—told you he was utterly at your mercy.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough and breathless. “Oh I know honey” you cooed back in response as he fell into you.

You pressed a kiss to his jaw, letting your lips linger. He let out a low growl, his hands moving to your hips, fingers digging deep into your skin to somehow ground him and the tension in his body.

A few seconds later, his release spilled warm against your hand, his muscles tightening before relaxing as he caught his breath. The air between you buzzed with the aftermath.

Without a word, you crossed the kitchen to grab a paper towel, your movements calm as he straightened and adjusted his clothes.

The silence was thick but not uncomfortable, and though your back was to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you. It wasn’t just a look—it was awe, mixed with something deeper, something that made him hesitate.

You liked it. You liked him like this—off-balance, unsure, but still captivated.

-------

And now here you both were again, another late night in the office. The hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards filled the air. Cooper’s cubicle wasn’t far, and his fingers flew over the keys, lost in his work.

You started to wonder if he’d forgotten his promise from earlier—or worse, backed out. The thought twisted your stomach. If he was going to take the lead, you didn’t want to miss it.

You loved having him at your mercy, weak and obedient, but you’d fantasized about him taking control—bending you over his desk,, his hands gripping your hips, his large hands slapping your ass hard enough to raise the skin. You craved that shift in power, him letting go of his restraint and losing himself with you.

The fantasy made you forget where you were. When you snapped back to reality, Cooper stood at your cubicle entrance, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Helloooo… earth to Y/N,” he teased, snapping you out of your trance.

You blinked, shaking your head, and quickly blamed your distraction on the work in front of you.

“I’m running out to grab a snack. Do you wanna come, or should I get you something?” he asked casually, but it felt off, almost too casual.

It threw you off—he sounded like a coworker, maybe even a friend, like nothing had been simmering between you two. For a moment, you wondered if he’d backed out.

Still, you nodded, searching for your wallet. “Yeah, could you grab me a ginger ale and one of those salami and cheese packs?”

Your words trailed off as your eyes met his.

Cooper wasn’t focused on your request. His gaze was hungry, undressing you with his eyes.

“Earth to Koch,” you teased, arching a brow, “If you’re gonna stare, at least buy me dinner, not just snacks.”

His smirk didn’t fade, and his gaze lingered. “Keep your money,” he said lowly, “I’ll take care of it.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning slyly. “Is that so? From where I’m sitting, you’re used to letting me handle it.”

His smirk deepened, and he leaned down, bracing his hands on the armrests of your chair. “Well, daddy doesn’t mind picking up the tab… I do make more than you,” he teased, flicking his fingers with a smug grin.

You cocked your head and smiled. “But you’re good with taking the lead. Always have been,” he continued, throwing on his coat.

You held his gaze unflinchingly, the tension thick in the air, until he stepped back and walked away. You couldn’t stop the satisfied smirk on your lips as he disappeared down the hall.

------

Cooper’s footsteps echoed softly as he returned to the office, the bag of snacks and drinks crinkling in his hand. He made a quick stop by your cubicle, setting down the drink and snack you’d requested. But when he glanced around, he noticed you weren’t there.

Maybe she’s in the bathroom, he thought, shrugging it off as he turned back toward his own desk.

But the moment he sat down, he froze. Right in the center of his keyboard lay a pair of lacy pink panties—your panties—with a sticky note attached.

supply room <3

Cooper didn’t waste a second. He practically sprinted to the supply room, his long strides carrying him down the hall with a new kind of energy. His chest was tight, not with anticipation.

When he pushed the door open, his heart skipped a beat.

There you were, leaning casually against the small table, arms crossed over your chest like you had all the time in the world. The faint hum of the fluorescent light above cast a halo around you, but the devilish smirk on your lips said otherwise.

“Couldn’t even wait to finish your snack?” you teased, your eyes dropping to his heaving chest as you sat on the table, your skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

Cooper kicked the door shut behind him with a sharp thud, his gaze locked on yours, dark and determined.

“You’re insane,” he muttered with a smirk, stepping toward you with a determined glare.

Cooper crashed into you, his lips capturing yours with a fierce, desperate hunger that stole your breath. The kiss was a battle for control, his movements firm and possessive as he refused to yield, always staying one step ahead of your attempts to take the lead.

His strength overwhelmed you, leaving no room for resistance. His large hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head back as his lips left yours, trailing fiery kisses down your neck. Each nip and bite sent jolts through your body, unraveling your composure.

Cooper paused, his dark, desire-filled eyes locking on yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hand slipped under your skirt, his fingers finding your clit with deliberate, teasing circles. You tried to resist, still wanting him to work for it, but the whimper of his name betrayed you.

He licked his fingers before slipping one inside you, his pace confident and unrelenting. Your back arched in ecstasy as he murmured, "Mmhm, just like that... fuck, you're so wet," his voice low and intoxicating, urging you to let go completely.

“Exactly, Y/N... I like you just like this,” Cooper murmured, his voice low and gravelly as his lips hovered over yours. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips—just enough to leave you craving more. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees, his hazel eyes dark and focused as they met yours.

He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, pulling you flush against his face. His tongue traced over your wetness, each stroke deliberate and hungry. Your head fell back, a heavy sigh escaping as your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging lightly. Instead of the whimper you expected, Cooper let out a deep, guttural grunt, the vibrations traveling through you and making you moan louder.

When you tried to buck your hips against his face, he steadied you, his strong hands gripping your hips and anchoring you firmly. “Mm-mm, sweetheart, stay right where you are,” he said, flashing you a mischievous glance, his hazel eyes glinting with control.

His commanding tone made your breath hitch, his hands grounding you as they sparked a deeper craving within. You wanted to move, to take charge, but Cooper’s firm grip and steady gaze kept you in place, thrilling you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

Your grip tightened in his hair, but there was no pulling him closer—he was already as close as he could be, his jaw flexing as he sucked harder on your sensitive bud, each movement sending you spiraling.

“Fuck, Koch, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice high and desperate.

“Don’t rush it,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. “Let me handle you.” The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, your body aching to let go even as you tried to hold out.

His slow, deliberate rhythm had you trembling, the tension building with each wave of pleasure he drew from you. You gasped, your hips quaking as his intense gaze locked on yours, grounding you in the moment. His grip tightened just enough to keep you still, a silent command to surrender.

“Think I forgot my promise from earlier?” he asked, pulling back just enough for his words to reach you, his face glistening with your slick. His voice was a low, teasing growl, leaving you breathless before he stood, towering over you.

In one fluid motion, he pulled you to your feet, his hands firm as they turned you around. His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, slipping it from your shoulders before ripping off his own. The warmth of his chest briefly pressed against your back before he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as his whispered words sent a thrill down your spine.

"You like a challenge right?," he murmured, his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you, "don’t cum until I say so,let’s see how long you can hold out.”

A shiver ran through you, and you nodded quickly, unable to form words. That wasn’t good enough for him.

"Use your words," he ordered, his hands trailing down your sides, gripping you firmly.

“Yes, Ko…Cooper,” you stammered, the anticipation coiling tight in your stomach.

"Good girl," he muttered, satisfaction dripping from his tone. Without another second passing, he pushed into you, his swollen cock moved deliberatly, slowly, and utterly consuming. The angle stole your breath, his tip hitting your cervix in a way that left you in awe, all you could do was brace yourself against the table, gasping at the intensity of it all.

"You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart," Cooper rasped, his voice rough with control as he thrust deeper, his hips rolling with a intensity that made it harder to hold on. His grip on your sides was firm, grounding you, yet each movement chipped away at your resolve.

Your fingers curled against the edge of the table, fighting the mounting pressure inside you. Every inch of you felt on fire, every nerve heightened by the way he seemed to know exactly how to unravel you.

“Cooper,” you gasped, your voice barely audible, trembling under the weight of his command and the growing wave threatening to crash over you.

“I can feel you slipping, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he leaned in, his breath hot and teasing. “I thought you wouldve last longer,” he let out a low chuckle.

You usually pushed back when he was arrogant but how could you, here he was; finger tips dug into your hips, you biting your bottom lip to withstand the pressure building in your stomach from him filling you.

“Hold it,” he commanded, his hand pressing into your back pushing you down on the table.

“Cooper, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he cut you off, his voice firm but encouraging, his rhythm picking up again. The sound of his hips against your ass mixed with his low grunts and your breathy moans, filling the small room in a heady symphony of desire.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate to let go.”

You nodded frantically, barely holding on, every part of you begging for release. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Not yet,” he said, his tone dropping even lower, sending another jolt through you.

The dominance in his voice made your knees weak, but you obeyed, biting down on your lip to keep from tumbling over the edge. Each second felt like an eternity as he pushed you further and further, his relentless pace and commanding presence overwhelming you.

“Now,” he growled suddenly, his voice thick with need. “Cum for me pretty girl.”

At his words, your body obeyed, the tension snapping all at once as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure ripping through you. Your cries filled the air, your body trembling as Cooper held you steady, still stroking into you as you rode out your high.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his tone softening as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Good girl.”

-------

A few seconds passed in the quiet aftermath, the only sounds in the room your still-heavy breaths and the rustling of fabric as Cooper buttoned up his shirt. You leaned against the table, moving slowly as you tried to gather yourself, your legs still shaky and your mind buzzing.

He glanced at you, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he said, adjusting his collar, "I always thought you’d be able to handle me better than that."

You shot him a look, one brow raised as you pushed off the table and smoothed down your skirt. “If I knew you were going to be that good, Koch,” you quipped, brushing past him, “I would’ve let you have me a long time ago.”

His grin widened, and he chuckled, stepping closer to you as you reached for your discarded blouse. “Well,” he murmured, his voice low but playful, “guess we’re just making up for lost time now, aren’t we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you slipped on your shirt. “Don’t get too cocky, Coo— Koch. I’m still recovering.”

“Trust me,” he said, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief, “I noticed.”

The warmth in his tone softened the moment, leaving you both standing there with a newfound ease. It wasn’t just the heat between you anymore—it was something more comfortable, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the last time.

#nasty remix #cooper koch #cooper koch x reader #cooper koch x y/n #cooper koch smut #cooper koch fanfic

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hanfourz · 2 months ago

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HI POOKIES i'm soso busy this week i can barely read anything here omg </3 but i loved your latests work, vamp riwoo especially... wow. happy november btw !!! i also find nnn super funny for some reason, how do you think the bonedo legal line would be like during nnn? :p

— 🐈‍⬛

🪼- oh i feel u, it's been kinda crazy lately (ᵕ—ᴗ—) thank u so much!!! im so glad u liked vamp!riwoo. as a riwoo fangs enthusiast i Had to do it. it's so funny bc cherry literally was just talking abt how she wants to do a post abt bnd doing nnn and then we saw this 😭

🍒 - im so sorry for letting this rot for so long 😭 i will try my best to explain so. it's so funny cuz i literally talked about it with ki right before we got the ask! great minds think alike☺️

warnings: SMUT [MDNI!!!], hc format, mentions of oral (f. rec), light mentions of bondage (kinda), cocky taesan & leehan lolol

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ sungho

give it a week until he falls down on his knees (quite literally). you just look so beautiful how could he NOT want to eat you out on the spot? (of course, you never wanted to admit to yourself that you badly needed it too) but knowing how obsessed he is, seeing you dressed up... you should've known the night would end with him in between your legs.

↘ rest under read more !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ riwoo

i give it two weeks until he's way too horny and is begging you to touch him. while you refuse because you enjoy teasing him so much. he was so confident about making it through the whole month. now he's laying on the bed, tied up, waiting for you to touch him :( and how could you deny him when he whines so prettily for you?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ jaehyun

poor guy wouldn't even last 5 seconds. :( he's so obsessed with you. he's like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time when he sees you. doesn't matter what you're doing or how you look or how long you've been together or how often he gets to touch you. he's begging you to let him touch you, even though you both decided together to participate. you should have known neither of you were gonna last. you can't get enough of each other.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ taesan

either two seconds or he's pulling it through, no in between. you two make it like a competition to see who'll last longer. he gets needy like halfway through but he will never admit it to himself, he's so annoyingly overconfident. and he would rather die than lose to you. so he teases you until you're the one begging for him then teases you for not being able to last. like he wasn't purposely putting his hands on your tits or making you sit on his lap...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ leehan

3 weeks until he gives in. when you tell him that you want to participate he's like "you sure you can live without my cock for a whole month?". you decide to teach his cocky attitude a lesson and you try everything to rile him up. (which really isn't difficult to do.) "you're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" what, you? never! "what do you mean? i haven't done anything." you bat your eyes at him, feigning innocence. he grabs you by your waist. "just say you want me too, and I'll give it to you" but you will not give him the satisfaction, you refuse to lose against leehan's charm. no matter how tempting it is. "i don't need anything, but it seems like you're the one who can't keep his dick inside of his pants. you just need to say that i won." is all you say and he decides he needs to fuck that smirk off your face.

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transmutationisms · 2 years ago

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I have always been wary of the psychiatric industry, but its only very recently that i started to read anti-psychiatric works. Your blog is the first time i saw that the "chemical imbalances causing mental illness" is a myth, and honestly its something im having a hard time wrapping my head around.

Is it that mood regulation struggles, labelled as a mental illnesses, has more to do with outside factors instead of the person "just being that way"? Is it therefore unlikely for someone to have struggles with mood regulation if they cant identify any external causes that would cause them to be, for example, extremely agoraphobic or to have anger management issues? Im asking this for myself mainly, cause i always had intense agoraphobia no matter how i often go outside my home (in fact it was worse when i was a teen and i was outside the house in even more back then). I cant think of any reason for me to be like this than chemical imbalances in my brain.

the specific 'chemical imbalance' myth i was talking about in this post is the idea that depression is caused by low serotonin, and that therefore SSRIs—serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, ie drugs that cause a higher level of serotonin in the brain—ought to cure or at least ameliorate depression. this conjecture is belied by the fact that SSRIs don't, at a population level, reliably perform better than placebo.

although a neurobiological cause of 'mental illness' has long been the holy grail of psychiatry, the serotonin imbalance myth is far from the only hypothesis that psychiatrists and neuroscientists have proposed. so, a critique of the serotonin myth is not synonymous with, or generalisable to, a critique of every neurobiological mechanism purported to explain psychiatric diagnoses. you may be interested to know, though, that genomics and neuroscience have not identified a biological cause of any psychiatric diagnosis (p. 851).

all human experiences are biologically instantiated, including in the brain and wider nervous system. we are embodied beings. however, it is a leap to assume that such instantiation is automatically equivalent to a causal explanation or disease etiology. in other words, to deny that psychiatric diagnoses are known to be biologically caused does not mean we deny that thoughts and thought patterns express in the physical matter of neuroanatomy. this is a major philosophical sticking point to keep in mind whenever you're looking at something like, eg, a study that purports to show 'brain differences' in those assigned a certain psychiatric diagnosis. another thing to consider is whether these papers are plagued with methodological issues or financial conflicts of interest.

i can't possibly tell you why you exhibit agoraphobia. however, when i talk about social, economic, and environmental factors that may contribute to the patterns of behaviour labelled as 'mental illness', i'm talking about much more than the individual choice to leave your house. since phobias are 'anxiety disorders', i might start by probing into questions like: is the world you live in safe? do you perceive it as safe? do you or your community face existential threats that may confront you more obviously when you go outside? are you nervous around other people, and if so, might that be connected to fears (well-founded or not) about interpersonal violence and harm? do you think any of these anxieties may be connected to the hostility and inaccessible design of the social environment and economic conditions?

human behaviour and thought varies. some of those variations may be totally benign; others may be helpful or harmful to the person living with them. it would be weird if every single one of the 8 billion people on earth experienced precisely the same amount of anxiety about any situation, no? all of this is to say: yeah, it's entirely possible you have been, for one reason or another (genetic, neuroanatomical, social, &c) predisposed to experience high, even debilitating levels of anxiety when leaving your home. most human characteristics develop from a tangle of social, environmental, material causes—ie, from a combination of 'nature' and 'nurture'. what doesn't follow, though, is the claim that there is therefore a discrete, 'diseased' element of your brain or brain functioning that can simply be cured or eliminated through psychiatric intervention.

it is a critical point of anti-psychiatry to challenge psychiatric and neuroscientific claims to neurobiological determinism where psychiatric diagnoses are concerned. this is for many reasons, including: a) that these claims have not been demonstrated to actually be true [see above]; b) that they rob pathologised people of agency and self-determination [see: you're too sick to know you're sick, and the doctor will fix you now]; c) that they are often pushed by pharmaceutical companies with financial interests, or grant-funded researchers with... financial interests; d) that they are politically seductive in various eugenic, hereditarian discourses that seek to eliminate the biologically 'unfit' element from society.

#psychiatry

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zzenxell · 15 days ago

Text

for the record (MDNI)

cowboy!mingi x saloon owner!fem reader

pairing: cowboy!mingi x bar owner! reader

genre: smut 18+

rating: mature

word count: 6.2k

summary: a lone bar owner on a dead day in a small town is taken for the ride of her life once a regularly visiting bounty hunter enters through the swinging doors

warnings: explicit language (like... real explicit) || smut (very intense, i fear. please don't read in public or if under the age of 18) || sub/dom themes || fingering (f recieivng) || oral stimulation (f/m receiving) || big dick!mingi (as we all know) || unprotected (wrap it up irl) || creampie (oatmeal) || nicknames (sweetheart, darling, love, angel, doll, pretty, pretty girl, sweet pea, cumslut, slut) || multiple orgasms ||

zzen's notes: save a horse, ride a cowboy everyday of my life is said cowboy is mingi🤭 also, first one shot type thing written on here so pretty please show love and give requests so i can write more

ALSO sorry this shit took so long lol went to hell and back just to get my writers block dealt with. i also have this on AO3 which is where ill be posting all my works as well. link in bio :P

(partially proofread. im lazy)

On a cold and gloomy day, you work around the saloon you own in a quaint little town. A dead one. Barely any travelers were out and hardly any of the regulars stopped by. Tumbleweeds passed by the saloon doors with a foot-high opening at the bottom, swinging in the wind with a creak. You sigh, focusing on the small stack of used and dirty cups needing a good clean. It was rare to have such an uninteresting day around these parts. Normally, there would be at least one person in here. Or a group of cowboys causing a ruckus in the far corner booth. It was eerily quiet, both inside and outside the small wooden building.

In the middle of toweling dry a glass, the doors fly open. You figure it was just the wind again until you hear boots scuffling the planks of the floor. You turn, looking towards the sound, and see one of your regulars. Song Mingi. A well-known bounty hunter who has a habit of coming in once a week to get a whiskey sour. Several, at that. Normally covered in blood and dirt, he looks clean this time. Setting the glass down, you lean against the counter behind you and cross your arms with a smirk.

“Fancy seeing you ‘round. Quite the weather to be out and about,” You say with a drawl, looking over the man briefly before meeting his gaze again. He smirks at you and places his cowboy hat on the counter before perching himself on the stool in front of you. He’s always been infatuated with you. Your attitude, your aura, your energy. Everything about you is so… alluring. It captivates him every time. Him meaning his throbbing dick between his thighs that happens to harden the moment he walks into your bar.

“I needed a drink and wanted to see my favorite bar owner. That a crime, sweetheart?” He tilts his head, that disgustingly sexy smirk still sitting on his face as his eyes run over you as well. You knew damn well and good that he wants you. Always has since his first appearance in your bar. He made it known. The first encounter being him with his group of wildlings. All of them drunk off their asses in the corner booth and trying to get you to buy them a round. You folded, obviously, and brought over two pitchers of beer just to shut them up. That was the first time you noticed him. His cowboy hat sitting slanted on his head and only being able to see the lower part of his face. Though that night, he lifted his head to meet your gaze. That same stupid smirk sitting on his face as he nodded in appreciation. That was also the first time you went home and rubbed one out to the thought of him. Which, now that you think about it, seems to be the normal ritual for when you get home.

“Well, I appreciate the compliment, cowboy,” You scoff out a soft laugh and pick up a clean glass, making his usual concoction before sliding the glass across the counter to him. His fingers barely brush against yours and both of you have to hold back to grab each other's hands. You won’t lie and say you have a fantasy of getting thrown over this very bartop and having him fuck you roughly from behind. To have his large, rough, and calloused hands wrapped around your waist. Oh, to hear his moans in the deep raspiness of his voice. Fuck, you were getting turned on just thinking about it. But you also can’t let him know that. It’ll boost his ego too much and make him think he has a chance. (He does).

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a sip of his drink, eyeing you like a hawk while doing so. His mind is running with all the thoughts of what he wants to do to you. To pin you against the wall of liquor that looms behind you. To fuck that tight little cunt of yours that he knows is tight and pink. Like it was made for him and only him. To bend you over this counter and fuck you till you're crying out in pleasure. His cock bruising your insides in the best way possible. Shooting everything in him to coat the velvety walls of your pussy. God, what he would do to taste you.

Shaking his head from his thoughts, he turns his gaze around the empty saloon, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Seems like you’re pretty busy here, eh?” His head turns back to you and his glass presses to his lips once more, taking another sip of his drink before letting the glass settle on the counter. Leaning back against the seat, he eyes you once again. His cock twitching in his jeans as his gaze falls to your plump and, oh-so-beautiful breasts. Even behind that button-up and vest, he knows they’re plump. Round and full. Perfect for his huge hands to grasp and fondle. To tease those perky nipples into a stimulation you haven’t felt before. He swallows thickly and meets your gaze.

Smirking knowingly, you push off the counter and walk to the opposite end to discard the towel into a dirty waste bin. Unlike many other women in town, you refuse to wear blouses, skirts, and underskirts. Fuck that. You dress yourself in jeans, chaps, and a white button-up that's tucked under your belt. Your leather vest frayed around the chest, the fringe swaying with each of your subtle movements.

“Quite the day indeed, I’ll tell you that. You’re the first and only customer all day,” Standing back up straight, you face him and saunter back to stand in front of him. No other person to pay attention to. Might as well.. play a little. Leaning against the bartop in front of him, you grab his glass and take a sip all while keeping his gaze. He visibly swallows and eyes your lips wrapped around the glass. The glass clinks to the counter and you grab his hat next, placing it atop your head with a smirk.

His gaze never leaves you and something in him switches once he sees his hat on your head. You must not know the untold fact about wearing a man's cowboy hat. Mingi’s grin grows and he leans his forearms on the counter. “You know, You look mighty sexy with my hat on that pretty head of yours,” His voice drops a few tones as he licks his lips. The head he’s imagined pushing down over his cock with your pretty pink lips wrapped around him. Your eyes welling with tears because he’s too big for you. Fucking your throat raw until he cums and watches his seed spill from the corners of your lips. Fuck, to be in your mouth right now. His pants tighten again and he bites his lip to hold back a groan. “You don’t know what that means, do you, hun?”

Your eyes narrow, questioning him silently before setting his hat back down beside his glass. Leaning your forearms between his in the counter, you lean forward a little. “What does it mean, cowboy?” Your tone teasing, sultry even, as you speak. Tongue darting out to wet your lips almost in anticipation. His smirk only grows and he leans forward as well.

“When a pretty girl like yourself wears a man’s hat, it means you’re his… and his only,” He’s whispering now. Somehow sounding even sexier like this. Your mind flurries with phrases you want him to whisper in your ear while he’s deep inside you and you swallow dryly as you eye his lips.

“That so?” You question back, cocking your head to the side slightly before meeting his gaze again. It darkens immediately and his hands clench into fists against the wood of the bar top. The nod is subtle, but you see it. That makes your smirk grow as well. Just as he starts to lean forward again, you pull away and place your hands firmly on the counter. “Maybe I should wear it more often then… whaddyu think?” His heart stutters and his eyes widen a little. Fuck you’re bold. And he loves it. Loves the thought of you being his to come home to and fuck the brains out of. To relieve the stress of having to kill people for money to scrape by. And to have you by his side would be a dream of his. One he would gladly make into a reality if you gave him even the smallest chance. A scoff of a laugh leaves him and he picks his glass back up and down the rest of his drink. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. You know I’m not opposed to the idea.”

You laugh softly and take his empty glass from the counter to clean, rinsing it under water before towel drying it and setting it with the others behind you. In the silence, you’re thinking about the many ways you could tempt him right now. Simply unbutton the top of your shirt, taking your vest off. Even just adjusting yourself. Anything you do would get him going.

So you do it. Shedding your vest slowly from your shoulders and tossing it to the side before undoing the top two buttons of your shirt. Cleavage is now out in the open for him to see. His eyes dropping instantly with a deep and sharp sigh. He licks his lips, almost hungrily, as he takes in your newfound boldness. “What are you playing at, Y/N?” His voice is deeper than before and raspier than you’ve ever heard it. It sends shivers down your spine and straight to your pussy that's already clenching around nothing. You can feel how wet you are despite not even being touched. That is the power his voice holds over you. And it should be illegal.

“I’m not playing at anything, cowboy. Just got a little hot. That a crime?” I throw his earlier said words at him and bend over in front of him to “fetch a rag” from the floor. His breath hitches and he lets out a soft groan. Mingi’s hand now covers his mouth while the other disappears underneath the counter. Shit, is he touching himself? Just at the sight of my titties? “Bullshit,” his voice strained and his eyes fall shut in an attempt to rid his mind of these thoughts. You’re teasing him. He won’t get anything from you. He knows he won’t. But, fuck, if he can’t help thinking about sliding his cock between those fucking tits of yours and coating them with his cum. The very thought sends another wave of arousal through him and his hand palms his dick through his pants, which elicits another groan from him. “What. Are you. Playing at?” He asks again, stern this time. You can’t help but smirk at him, even if he can’t see you right now with his eyes clenched shut.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hun,” again, teasing him. He should just shut you up now and shove his cock down your throat until you can’t see anything but the tears in your eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he leans further back into the stool and stares up at the ceiling, letting out heavy huffs of air as his other hand continues to slowly move along his hard cock.

“You… are a cock tease,” he says after a few moments of silence and finally turns his gaze back to you. He can’t take this shit anymore and stands from the stool. Marching over to the entrance that leads behind the bar, he throws it open and stalks over to you, placing both hands on the counter that you lean against. Now that you’re caged in, you realize… you want him to fuck you senseless. You want to suck him down and swallow everything he gives you. Your hands fall to his chest, pressing firmly against it as if to push him away. Your attempts fail because he’s a giant compared to you. His frame blocks everything out of view and all you can do is stare up at his hardened gaze. “You like being a tease? Huh? You want me to show you what happens when you tease too much, sweetheart?”

His words send a thrill through your body. Fuck yeah, you want him to show you. You want him to demolish you right now against this counter and fuck you so hard that the liquor bottles fall and shatter around you as you cream over his cock you know is big, just like the rest of him. A sly smile forms on your face and your hands decide they want to move over the expanse of his chest. Even when it's covered in his button-up and vest, you feel the muscles tense under your touch. Another groan leaves him and his face drops closer to yours.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, doll…” he mutters out and drops his face even lower, ghosting against the skin of your neck. His hot breath fanning out with each heavy huff. Hands now moving from the counter behind you to grip at your waist. Fuck… they were so big. He was big. He could so easily manhandle you right now and you wouldn’t have a care in the world.

“You don’t want me to fuck you, Mingi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and your head tilts a little as you feel his lips press to the side of your neck. Brushing right below your ear and down to where your shoulder and neck connect. Another groan, this one deeper and more elongated. His grip tightens on your waist and, suddenly, his teeth are in your neck. A sharp moan leaves you and your eyes flutter shut. That’s gonna leave a mark. But who cares? Neither of you right now.

“You want me to fuck you, y/n? You want my cock inside you? Is that what it is?” He mumbles against your neck, still attacking it with his lips and tongue, leaving several marks of his behind. Each one elicits a soft whimper to pass through your lips. Your hands clench against the fabric of his shirt and you turn your head, forcing him to leave your neck. Though his eyes never leave the sight of the dark marks he left behind.

“Maybe I do…” you whisper to him and move one of your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a well-needed kiss. Messy and sloppy and dirty and wet. One that both of you had dreamt of many times in the solitude of your homes. He groans into the kiss, moving one hand from your waist to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back so he can shove his tongue into your mouth. You moan against his lips and let him take over. His tongue slides and dominates yours as it feels around your mouth. Fuck, this was hot. You honestly could cum from this. His soft and plump lips pressed to yours, despite the taste of whiskey that coated his mouth. Your hand slides into his hair to grip tightly as you pull him closer to you. His other hand moves from your waist and slides down, toying with your belt before ripping it out of the belt loops. It clings to the ground and his next action is unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

He pulls away from your lips, just for a breather. His eyes cast down to stare at your now swollen lips. Smirking, he moves the hand from your hair to brush a thumb over your bottom lip. A soft whimper escapes you as you watch him. His face is full of desire and pent-up arousal. He presses against you harder and you feel his straining cock press into your stomach. Now you’re glancing down to see the very large bulge in his jeans. He chuckles lowly and lifts your face back up with a tight grip under your chin. His other hand successfully gets your pants undone, shoving them down quickly. Your legs instinctively spread for him with a gasp. Feeling his touch against your clothed clit almost made you lose it and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, hips jolting at his touch.

“That how wet I make you, doll? You’re fucking drenched… what a slut you are,” He whispers against your ear. You knew how wet you were, but the vulgarity of his words makes you even more so. Pussy clenching around nothing, pulsing from the inside with a hunger for him and him only. His fingers tease the cloth of your panties slowly, drawing out any sound he can from you in the process as his lips reconnect with your neck. “You are a slut, aren’t you? A cock-loving cum slut… ready to fuck any man who walks into your saloon, huh?”

You shiver at his words and let out a needy moan. Again, the vulgarity coming from this man makes you want to jump him. In response, you nod eagerly. Wanting nothing more than to fuck him in this very moment like the cumslut he says you are. “Fuck, Mingi… please just-... just fuck me already.” The words are a plea. A beg for him to do more than just touch you through your soaked panties. He smirks against your neck and pulls away to look down at you.

“Right here in the front of the saloon where anyone could walk in and see you on full display? I don’t think so, doll.” With that, he pulls his hand from your pants and grabs your waist to hoist you up, pressing you against him as he quickly makes his way to your office door. Your legs wrap around him and your arms snake around his broad shoulders to hold yourself in place. He knows where your office is solely because he’s seen you walk back there many times. Just so he can see that pretty little ass of yours in these tight jeans you always wear. His hands knead the flesh of your ass through your jeans, walking with a purpose so he can get you bent over the desk like the whore you are.

You, on the other hand, are now clinging to his shoulders for the life of you. Head buried into his neck with lips pressed to his neck in a fervor to try and get some of your desires out. Nothing works. You need his cock. For him to be inside you and fucking you senseless until you don’t even remember your damn name. The whimpers leaving you are breathless and desperate. He kicks the door open, setting you down on the desk before shutting the door behind him and shedding his vest from his shoulders. His belt buckle unlatches as he pulls his belt from his pants and shoves his pants down without even undoing them. His boxers sliding down as well, revealing his hard and thick cock to your eyes. It’s huge. Girthy and veiny, red tip leaking with precum and can easily tear you in two. He stares down at you, legs spread against the desk with your arms behind your back to support your weight. He lets out a groan and strokes himself a few times before walking over to where you sit.

“Knees, angel. Get on ‘em,” With his hand still on his cock, he motions with his other for you to do as he says. And, like the compliant little slut you are, you listen, Dropping to your knees in front of him with his big fucking cock in front of your face. You lick your lips, moving your hands to his thighs slowly, but he pushes them away with a tsk. “Uh uh. Let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours before you do anything. I want you crying around my cock before I fuck you. Hands behind your back.” Your eyes widen at his words, but you nod and settle your hands behind your back, looking up at him. Your chest heaves with the deep breaths you take. In this position, your panties are pulled taut enough that they just so happen to ride right against your clit and you could easily get off like this. Sucking him dry and cumming from giving him pleasure. Fuck, just the thought of swallowing him down makes you almost cum. His eyes narrow down at you and he steps closer, pressing his tip against your cheek before slapping himself against you with a groan.

“Fuck, doll… you look good down there,” He all but whispers out and moves his free hand to grip your hair away from your face. His other hand guides his tip across your lips and you open willingly for him. That action makes him stifle back a guttural moan, but he doesn’t plunge himself in yet. He wants to hear you beg for his cock. “You want it? Let me hear you, baby. Tell me how much you want me to fuck your mouth… 'cause I know you want me to.”

You whimper, clenching your eyes shut briefly to get your mind unfogged so you can speak to him. “Mingi… please fuck my mouth. Use me. By all means, use my mouth for your pleasure. Please, baby. I need your cum down my throat. I need to taste you,” the words fall out so easily despite your brain being mush. He seems satisfied with your answer though, smiling down at you like a predator about to devour its prey.

“Open nice and wide for me, doll,” And you listen, almost dislocating your jaw with the speed in which you drop it down for him. He lets out a hum of appreciation and circles his tip around your lips once more before pressing his tip in. Cursing under his breath, he slowly inches forward as his grip on your hair tightens. It took everything in him to go slow and not surge himself to the back of your throat. “There we go… such a good girl.” He mutters out with his eyes shut in pleasure. Your tongue begins to swirl over every part it can reach despite him stretching your mouth to new heights. He pulls back out after getting half of his length in, then slowly presses himself back into the hilt. That elicits a loud moan from him and a gag from you, but you take him willingly. Your eyes blinking up at him with tears starting to form at the corners.

After a few seconds of him with his cock down your throat, he opens his eyes and looks down at you with a hint of a smile on his face. “Good fucking girl. Taking me so well in the little mouth of yours,” he mumbles in desire and begins to rock his hips into you. Both of his hands tangle in your hair tightly to hold your head in place. Strings of saliva start to drip down your chin. Surely, some of his precum was a part of it, not that you minded at all. His cock hits the back of your throat in slow and steady thrusts that make him groan lowly. The sight of him disappearing and reappearing from your mouth almost makes him lose his shit, but he holds back. He's not cumming until he's fucking that cunt of yours and filling you to the brim.

His pace quickens suddenly and you're fighting back the urges to gag once more. Wet gurgles leaving you. They sound disgusting but he fucking loves them. He can't take it anymore, his pace quickening once again and his grip on your hair tightens. “Fuck, doll… doing such a good job,” his eyes fall shut again and his head tilts back to moan towards the ceiling. At that point, you start grinding yourself down into the seam of your panties, moaning around him softly as the tears start to fall down your cheeks. You can already feel your arousal dripping onto the wood floor below you. You're too focused on his massive dick in your mouth pounding your throat relentlessly.

Mingi thrusts into your mouth one last time and holds himself there, silent and still as he brings his head back down. Feigning mock sympathy, he moves one of his hands from your hair to wipe the shed tears from your face. “Aww… you're crying? Am I too big for you, sweetheart? You poor thing.” He pulls himself out and lets go of your hair. Taking in breaths as you stare up at him, you lick your lips to get the precum he has spread earlier around the rim of your mouth. “Get up.” He demands while stroking himself in front of your face, almost tantalizing. You listen, standing from the floor and facing him to wait for his next instruction. God, you feel helpless, but dammit all to hell if it doesn't feel good.

He doesn't waste much time shoving your panties down to the floor to pool around your ankles. Strings of your arousal detach from your underwear and stick to your inner thighs. He licks his lips at the side, ready to taste every last inch of you until you're screaming for him to stop. “Sit on the desk, doll. Legs spread for me,” he gently nudges you backward with his hands on your hips, sitting you down on the edge of the desk before you could even think about moving. Your legs spread at his demand and you watch him sink to his knees between your thighs. He sighs deeply, a sound coming from the back of his throat. Almost like a growl. It makes your insides turn with desire and your knees fall over even more for him with a soft whimper. “Please, baby…” you whisper as if your pleas will do anything to quicken the process.

“Patience, sweetheart. You know how long I've wanted this. I'm taking my time with you,” he says with a tsk and smooths his hands over your legs. Starting at your calves, then the tops of your thighs, and finally massaging the insides of them, inching closer and closer to your dripping cunt. “So wet… and such a pretty sight,” the fingers of one hand gather some of your arousal and he licks them clean, humming in delight before pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. Your head tilts back abruptly and a sharp moan leaves you. Fuck, his hands are so big. You know you've said that before, but they truly are nothing compared to your hands. His eyes never leave the sight of your folds, pink and beautiful. Soaking from your juices and teasing him by clenching around nothing.

His thumb circles over your nub, watching as more of you seeps out of that tight little hole he's gonna destroy. Your moans gradually get louder with each passing second. More needy, whiny. More for him to just fuck you already. You bring your head back down and look at him. Shit he looks pussy drunk and he hasn't even done much of anything yet. But as soon as you think that, he dives in, licking a long stripe up from your entrance to the clit he's been teasing with his thumb. Again, he hums in delight and his eyes fall shut. Your head gets tossed back once more and your arms threaten to give out from holding your weight behind you.

“So sweet, love… Fuck you taste good, mm,” he mumbles against you and the hum he does sends a shiver throughout your entire body. Whimpering with every flick of his tongue. His hands wrap the underneath of your thighs and hoist them over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him in the process. He's hungry, and he's about to have himself a nice feast. Mingi doesn't hold back. His tongue delves into your entrance and licks wherever he can. His hands are gripping your thighs so hard it'll leave bruises till next week. Every so often, his nose brushes against your clit and you let out a cry of pleasure, fighting to bring your hands down to tangle in his hair.

“You wanna cum in my mouth, doll? Wanna drown me with your cum? Huh?” he mumbles again and brings his hand back down to play with your clit as his attack on your hole continues relentlessly. You nod, but you know he can't see you. It takes everything in you to clear your mind long enough to moan out a response. “Yes… fuck- yes, baby… please let me cum in your mouth,” the words send his cock twitching against his stomach and he presses his face further, smirking against you devilishly.

Then he pulls away, stands abruptly, and rips your shirt open. Your whine of protest from the lack of an orgasm soon turns to a gasp of surprise once your chest is exposed to him. Buttons fly everywhere and tumble to the floor as his lips make contact with your chest. His hands pull your shirt down your shoulders and then reach behind you to unclasp your bra, which he does in one swift move that has your pussy fluttering. Yanking the straps down, he palms your right breast and bites along the top of your other one. “Gorgeous, love… fucking beautiful,” They're all he's ever imagined. Round, full, perky. Everything he's dreamed of. He wants to slide his cock between the valley of them, but that'll be for another day. He's too impatient for that right now. He steps closer, his cock sliding against your thigh before settling on your stomach as his lips move up to the side of your neck. Sucking and pulling at the skin desperately as if he wants to eat you alive. Which you're sure he can if he truly wants to. You wouldn't be opposed, that's for damn sure.

His hips move slowly, grinding his hardness against your thigh and spreading your legs with his own. Groans leaving him with each passing second, mixing with your whimpers of pleasure as your eyes fall shut. His large, calloused hands travel everywhere they possibly can. You claw at him, his shoulders and back and neck. Desperate for him to give up on teasing and taking his time instead of ravishing you within an inch of your life. “Mingi.. P-please,”

It's like the restraint in him finally breaks and he's capturing your lips with his again. A hand snaking down to toy with you for a moment, gathering your juices before hes stroking his cock with it. Then his tip is prodding at your entrance. “You sure you can handle this, sweet pea?” He breaks the kiss to mutter those words, dark and gruff as his lips trail over your cheek. The hand not holding himself at your entrance travels up the side of your body to gently wrap around your throat. Not too much pressure, but enough to make your walls flutter.

“Y-yes.. Please, Mingi. I- i can handle it,” you respond, shaky and quiet but confident in your ability to take him nonetheless. He doesn’t waste much time after that and slowly sinks himself into the hilt with a deep groan. It almost sounds like a growl. Of course, it’s paired with a satisfied moan from yourself once you’re finally able to feel him like this. His lips attach to your neck again in a sorry attempt to muffle the soft grunts and gasps he’s letting out from how tight you are. You’re too busy clinging to his shoulders trying to get used to his size. “Tight as hell, sweetheart.. You alright?” He breathes the words out between his teeth, willing himself to stay still so he doesnt hurt you too much. You’re able to nod, subtly, but it's there. He takes that as permission to move, pulling back until just his tip remains inside, then pushes back in with a groan. It harmonizes with the breathy moan you let out.

That’s how he starts. Slow, steady. Full, deep strokes that make you feel every vein carved into his dick. All while his huffs of air and grunts resonate right next to your ear. Every once in a while punctuated by a kiss or nip on your shoulder. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper at the same time. “M-Mingi… so good…” You whimper the words, digging your nails into his shoulders before moving to his back. A hand delving into his hair yet again to both tangle in the strands and grip at his scalp. He responds with a sharp thrust, pulling his head back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Yeah? Feels good, doll?” His pace quickens just enough to make the desk start hitting the wall. A cocky grin taking his face as he watches how fucked out you become. “So pretty… Gonna fuck you dumb, okay? Just sit here and be a good girl for me.”

He pulls out, hoisting your legs over his forearms so they sit in the crook of your knee. His cock plunging itself back in as he straightens himself up to get a better range of movement. At this point, you're barely on the desk. Ass hanging off and basically hovering as he plunders into you. He’s out of reach now so you struggle to grab onto something, anything. The papers on my desk, a stapler. Eventually, I opt for the wall behind me and arch my back from the wood. “R-right there..please right- ahh my god,” He’s hitting your g-spot so perfectly you start seeing stars. He grunts, tightening his grip on your thighs as he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk. “Gonna come for me? Huh? Gonna cream all over this dick, pretty girl?”

If the words weren’t enough already, the name was a cherry on top. You nod, frantically, as a hand comes down to press against his pelvis. Not to push him away, but to touch him somewhere at least. The tears that rolled down your cheeks while his dick was in your mouth now rolls down as his dick rearranges your pretty little cunt. You were so close, so very close. “M-min..close,” The words come out so quietly, he almost misses them. But when they register, he doubles down his efforts. One of his hands coming between your thighs to play with your highly oversensitive clit to help send you over the edge. The desk hitting the wall in a steady and quick rhythm as he works you up. “C’mon, pretty… Soak my cock. Wanna see it glistening before I fill this pussy up, uh? Wanna watch? C’mere,” His other hand moves to grip the back of your neck, pulling you up just enough to watch where his cock disappears and reappears from inside you. His words, his fingers, his pace. Him. Fuck, you’re surprised you lasted this long. Another pitiful sob leaves you as you watch your arousal splash against his thighs. “You see that? See how good you take me, baby? Can’t believe you made me wait this long for such a perfect fucking pussy, mm.”

And that was it. It was like everything inside you just ruptures and you come with a guttural moan of his name. Your back arching into him and nails digging into where they stay on his stomach and the wall. Surprisingly enough, you manage to rip through the wallpaper in the office. A worry for another day though. You’re too busy seeing the gates of heaven while your orgasm washes over you, eyes clenched shut while your body stays rigid in bliss. His fingers on your clit not relenting until he sees the trembles in your thighs die down. His hips slowly coaxing you out of your high before he starts to work himself. When you’re finally able to open your eyes, you meet his gaze and see the smirk sitting on his face. “Just as I thought… pretty,” He mutters before he gives a few sloppy thrusts, and empties himself inside with a satisfied groan, almost mistaken for a whimper if you listened close enough. He stills, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as his arms bring your legs down. His arms instead wrap around your waist to pull you closer. Your breaths resonating in the small room as you both come down from the high of everything.

Mingi’s first to pull away, pressing gentle kisses along your shoulder and up your neck until he's right next to your ear. “For the record, I ain’t letting another man lay a hand on you, darlin’,” His hands tighten around your waist. Calloused fingertips dancing along the soft exposed skin of your hips and back. You smile against where your head rests on his collarbone. “For the record, I ain’t letting another woman lay a hand on you, cowboy."

okay.. so whatd you think?

#ateez mingi #mingi #song mingi #ateez #ateez atiny #mingi smut #mingi update #mingi x reader #atz #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #cowboy mingi

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likeumeanit9497 · 24 days ago

Text

bet | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: when y/n loses a bet to chris and is forced to go to a party, she realizes that she can be a lot more fun than she thought she could be.

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); choking; dirty talk; overstimulation; LOTS of plot; mentions of alcohol; 18+

notes: okay soooo...this is long. guys i try SO HARD to make my one shots shorter but I CAN'T DO IT IM SORRY I JUST LOVE CREATING A PLOT LINE TOO MUCH!!! so i 100% get it if u don't want to read all 6,857 words of this BUT i will say the smut in this is excellent. if u do choose to read this i hope u enjoy but i love ALL of u so much <333

“So after the kid shot me with the SRT I legit only had like 20 health,” Chris’s conversation was very much one-sided as you tried to keep your focus on the study material in front of you. “I didn’t have any slurp juice or bandages, so I definitely thought I was fucked because the kid was running towards me.” You began chewing on your bottom lip as you flipped through flashcards; Chris’s voice growing much too loud for the campus library. In your periphery, you could see that Chris was no longer writing notes and instead had abandoned his pencil to begin moving his hands animatedly as he continued his story. “Oh! And I was also almost out of mats. I was trying to build but he kept shooting at me so I was running out of material quick.” You sighed softly, searching through your business law textbook to find a concept that was sure to be on the test on Monday. The same test that Chris would also be taking, though he was proving to be completely disinterested in preparing himself for it as he continued to drone on about his recent Fortnite win.

“Chris,” You began, finally turning to face him. “I’m sure it’s all very impressive, but we have a pretty big midterm on Monday, remember? That’s the whole reason we’re here.” You shoot him a smile to hopefully soften your words, but thought to yourself that if you had known he was going to be so distracting, you never would have agreed to study with him. Chris blinked at you, a cocky smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He leaned back in the library chair and rested his hands against his stomach. You didn’t know Chris very well, as typically you only really spoke to each other in class, so you couldn’t really gauge his reaction to your words. You watched him for a moment, analyzing the way that his glittery-blue eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again. “But business law is so boring.” He finally replied, humour laced in his voice.

You chuckled, splitting your flashcards in half and handing a stack of them to him. “I know, trust me. But you have to study or else you’ll be fucked Monday morning.” You replied, and with a sigh he took your offered flashcards and straightened up in his chair. “Fine,” He huffed, “But I can’t stay very late, I’ve got a party to go to.” He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily as he spoke, and you stayed silent as you fought the urge to roll your eyes. Finally, you both began flipping through your respective flashcards in silence, the only distraction being the occasional brush of Chris’s arm against yours. You finally felt yourself fall into the satisfying feeling of being laser focused on the material in front of you, when Chris’s voice once again broke the silence.

“Speaking of parties, how come I never see you at any of them?” He asked, dropping his half of the flashcards onto the work table and reaching for his phone. Sighing, you barely flicked your eyes up in acknowledgement before giving him a curt response. “Not my scene.” You replied simply, hoping that answer was enough. “I don’t know if I believe that.” He replied, his voice filled with humour once again. “Hmm?” You rested your head in your hand as you continued haphazardly reading the cards. He stayed silent for a moment, and you could feel his eyes burning into you as he searched for a response. “I mean, I’ve seen plenty of your friends out.” You shrugged. “They’re more fun than I am.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” His words were finally enough to make you drop your own flashcards and turn to face him. “Chris, it’s a Friday night and I’m sitting in the library — where I plan on staying until I’m practically forced out at closing time — doing my very best to study for a midterm that I’ve been prepared to write for about two weeks. I spend so much time in this exact chair that I wouldn’t be surprised to show up one day and see a plaque with my name on it. This is my idea of fun. So how exactly do you think otherwise?” Chris smiled at you, his eyes glimmering with humorous appreciation. “I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, Y/n.” He shrugged, his voice a low, taunting whisper. You scoffed, shocked by his presumption that he knows you more than he really does.

“In fact,” He began again, making you close your eyes out of sheer frustration. “I think I can prove it.” You turned to face him once again, shockingly intrigued by his statement. Raising one eyebrow, you encourage him to continue. “Let’s make a bet.” You tilted your head, unable to hide your curiosity. “A bet.” You repeated. He nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. “We quiz each other with what’s on these flashcards. If you win, I’ll leave the library so you can study in peace, but if I win, you come to the party with me tonight.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in his proposition. The thought of going to a party on any weekend made you uneasy, but on the Friday before a major midterm it sounded disastrous. “And what if I say I don’t want to be a part of this bet at all?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. Chris smirked and shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to put up with me. As a matter of fact, I bet I could stay a little later, too. I have plenty of stories to share with you.” You groaned out loud as he sent you a quick wink. “I hate parties!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation.

“What? Don’t think you can answer more questions right than me?” He asked, his teasing voice laced with humour. But his words brought you to the realization that he was right, of course you wouldn’t have to go to the party. There was no way that Chris would be able to get more of the flashcard questions that you wrote correct. So, after a few more moments of contemplation, you shrugged your shoulders and straightened up in your chair. “Fuck it, I’m in.” A smile grew on Chris’s face as he took your hand and shook it; sealing the deal.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Yes! Let’s fucking go!” Your face dropped as you watched Chris jump from his seat, fists pumping the air as he circled your work table, soaking in his win. Once he reached you, he grabbed your shoulders and shook them lightly, pulling you from your shocked disassociation. “How the fuck did that just happen?” You asked, your voice weak as you looked at the tally score you had made on a scrap piece of paper. At the start of your little competition, you had actually been pleasantly surprised to see Chris answering the first few questions right. But, as you got closer and closer to the end, and with that, your scores eventually becoming tied, you suddenly became nervous. When you got your last question wrong, you felt your stomach drop, knowing that in order for you not to lose the bet Chris would have to get his last one wrong as well. But, to your horror, his answer was perfectly correct.

“I bet you underestimated me, huh?” Chris taunted as he began packing up his backpack. Shaking your head, you pulled your exasperated body up, collecting your own study supplies. “I guess I did.” You replied sheepishly, and without even looking you could feel Chris lean towards you. “You should never underestimate me.” He whispered, causing shivers to crawl down your spine. Then, his mood suddenly shifted back to his previous giddiness as he slung his backpack onto one shoulder. “So, text me your address. I’ll pick you up around 9:00 and we’ll walk to the party together, sound good?” Chris’s voice was so sickly sweet, riddled with excitement at the expense of both your shattered ego and distaste for your sudden plans. With a huff, you begin walking with him towards the library exit. “Sounds great.” You replied, your words filled with sarcasm and resentment.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Just a second!” You called, your voice shrill and panicked, as you scrambled around your apartment trying to do up your black corset while running to answer the door. Groaning, you momentarily give up on the corset and use one hand to hold it together in the back while you opened the front door. “Sorry, I just need another minute to get this damn top on.” You muttered in frustration, skipping over any greeting with Chris standing at the door. You turned around immediately, leaving the door open for him to enter as you walked into your bedroom and stood in front of you mirror.

Chris chuckled as he stepped into your apartment and followed you into your bedroom. “Having some trouble there?” He teased, nudging his chin to your undone top. You huffed as he leaned against your bedroom doorframe, crossing his arms as he took great pleasure in watching you struggle with your top.

“This thing is fucking impossible to put on!” You exclaimed, contorting your body into unflattering positions in an attempt to see what you were doing as you worked at clipping up one of the many clasps. Your eyes fell to your clock, noticing that it was exactly 9:00. “I’m sorry Chris, are we gonna be late?” You asked as you continued to struggle with your top.

“It’s a party, Y/n,” Chris began, pushing himself off from the doorframe and walking towards you. “We can’t be ‘late’.” Without asking for permission, Chris mindlessly walked up behind you to begin helping with your fussy corset. You stilled as you felt his cold knuckles brush against your spine as his fingers expertly maneuvered the stubborn clips into place. “Thank you.” You managed to whisper, even though your mouth had suddenly grown bone dry.

Once he fastened the last clip, Chris took a moment to step back and check over his work. Nodding in approval, you watched him through the mirror as his eyes drifted along your entire outfit. “Damn. I didn’t think you even owned anything like this.” He laughed, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You took a moment of your own to look at the lacy black corset and black mini skirt covering your body, and mirrored his laugh.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged to a party, you know.” Chris made a cheeky face at you through the mirror. “Dragged is a crazy word. I prefer to think of it as you finally allowing yourself to spend your Friday night like a normal 21 year old college student.” You turned away from the mirror and rolled your eyes, reaching for your purse on the bed to make sure you had everything in it that you might need tonight. Chris chuckled as you began stuffing your purse with your lip combo and perfume of the night, and suddenly you felt the heat of his body behind you as he stepped closer to you. “You know, we can blow off this party if you really don’t want to go.”

You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered shut at his warm whispers in your ear. His mouth lingered just inches from your ear as he waited for a response, but confusion washed over your body like lava. After what could have possibly been too long of an unbearable silence, you broke it by laughing dryly. “Yeah yeah, but I lost the bet…remember?” While you tried to keep your voice steady, you winced at how weak your words came out. Chris laughed softly, his breath warming your skin deliciously. “Ah yes, the bet.” He replied, his voice much lower than it had been before. You shivered as you felt his thumb trail softly down your bare arm. “We better get going then.”

You took a deep breath before turning around to face him. Looking up at him through your false eyelashes, you took a moment to examine his curious expression. His eyes looked soft as they glimmered in the dim lighting of your bedroom, but there was a barely distinguishable tension in his jaw — as though he was clenching his teeth in discomfort or strain — as he stared down at you. “Okay.” You finally replied, your voice a hoarse whisper.

You suddenly felt chilled as Chris’s body moved away from yours, and were completely shocked by the wave of disappointment that crashed through your system. As Chris helped you slip on your black jacket and you both walked out of your apartment and towards the party, you couldn’t help but ask yourself: what would have happened if you took the option not to go to the party?

It was a short walk to the house party, but by the time you and Chris walked up to the front door, you were beginning to grow squirrelly with nerves. It had been a long time since you had gone to a party, and you were sure that you had never been at this particular house before. As if he was reading your mind, Chris nudged your shoulder softly. “Hey, it’ll be fun,” You turned to look at him, giving him a weak smile. He leaned in closer to your ear, as if he was preparing to tell you a secret. “This is actually my place, so you’re already tight with the host.” You looked at him, slightly shocked that the party was at his home yet he chose to meet you at your place first, but it did calm your nerves slightly.

That changed as soon as Chris opened the front door. Immediately, you were met by a throng of unfamiliar people scattered throughout the house, loud music blaring, and scattered beer bottles and solo cups along the floor. After shooting you a reassuring look, Chris led you up the stairs to the main part of his home; filled with even more people and even more mess. A handful of people walked up to Chris in greeting, and you felt like an invader of the party; even though Chris made sure to introduce you to everyone he was talking to.

Just when you were about to ask Chris to show you where the washroom was — in which you planned to spend the rest of this horrifying night in hiding — you heard your name get called over the incessant chatter. Turning your head in the direction of the living room, you noticed three of your best friends on the couch, smiling and waving their hands in your direction. “You bitch! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming out?”

You felt the weight of humiliation and awkwardness lift off of you, and you shot them a warm smile before turning to Chris. Noticing your friends, he tilted his head in their direction and smiled kindly down at you. “Go ahead, I’ll find you later.” With a childish giggle, you squeezed his arm as a gentle sign of appreciation before quickly scampering off to your friends on the couch.

𓆩♡𓆪

After giving your friends a detailed explanation of how you ended up at the party — and after drinking more than your fair share of beer — you had melted into a state of bliss that was nearly unrecognizable to you. Never before had you truly enjoyed yourself at a party, yet at that very moment, it felt as though you were morphing into a completely different person; one much more confident and certainly more relaxed.That definitely had to do with the liquor burning through your veins, and maybe even the fact that a certain pair of blue eyes had been planted on you the whole night.

Laughing at something one of your friends’ said, your eyes traveled across the room and locked onto Chris’s from his place in the kitchen. You watched as a smirk pulled at the corner of his pink lips before he curled two fingers in the air; subtly calling you over. “I’ll be back in a bit.” You said to your friends before pulling your body — heavy from the alcohol — off of the couch and walking over to Chris at the kitchen counter.

He watched you, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he was studying you, as you approached him. You realized in that moment just how warm your cheeks felt as you finally reached him, standing just inches from his leaning frame. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like you’re having a bit of fun over there.” He said, his voice laced with amusement. You made an attempt at rolling your eyes. “Alcohol can make anything fun.” You replied, feeling too stubborn to admit that your night was going much better than you had expected. Chris straightened up and turned to the counter where he grabbed a bottle of tequila and began filling up two shot glasses. “Well in that case, I think you should take a shot with me.”

You smiled and stayed silent as you watched him pour the liquid into the small glasses. You couldn’t help but admire his side profile as his long eyelashes framed his slightly reddened eyes, and his teeth bit down on his lower lip in concentration. Even with your blurred vision, you could see the faint sprinkle of freckles along the soft slope of his nose, and appreciated the soft flush of baby pink — no doubt a gift granted to you by his consumption of alcohol — along his cheeks.

You snapped out of it once he turned back to face you, holding out a shot — noticeably less full than the one in his other hand — for you to grab. You obliged, and held it up in a cheers with him before you both tilted your heads back, wincing at the familiar burn as the tequila slid down your throat. “Lime.” You cried out, your voice hoarse from the liquor, and rather quickly Chris grabbed a pre-cut lime wedge out of a bowl and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the slice; sucking the sour juice from it while looking up at Chris with a scrunched up face as you ignored the strange flutter in your stomach — a flutter that was most definitely not from the alcohol.

You pulled your eyes away from Chris as you plucked the lime out of your mouth. Hearing him chuckle, you looked back up at him. “Another?” He asked, holding up the bottle of Casa Migos. Regrettably, you nodded your head. “But do you have any salt?” You asked, to which Chris responded by immediately reaching over into a cabinet to his right. As he searched through the cabinet, your eyes fell onto his exposed neck typically hidden by his messy curls — his skin slightly glistening.

As he turned back to face you, a shaker of salt in his hand, you felt your mood suddenly shift into one filled with desire. Forcing a smile onto your face, you managed a small thank you. Noticing your change in mood, Chris’s eyes seemed to scan across your features for a moment in silence. “Lick the back of your hand.” He ordered, his voice low and slightly deeper than before. Instinctually, you brought your hand up to your mouth. But just as you were about to run your hand against your tongue, you were suddenly overcome with an urge — and with it, a wave of uncharacteristic confidence.

“Actually, can I do something?” You asked, looking up at Chris through your eyelashes. Your eyes fixed on his neck, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Sure.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. As the word left his mouth, you took the salt shaker from his hand and sprinkled some into your own open palm. “Fill the shot glasses.” You told him, and he immediately obliged. Looking back up at his face — his gorgeous features laced with confusion — you took one deep breath before moving closer to him, your bodies now so close that with each breath your chest brushed against his. His eyes were filled with shock at your sudden proximity, but he stayed perfectly still as he waited to see what you were going to do.

Slowly, so slowly, you brought your mouth to his neck before running your tongue along his creamy skin. As you did, a short gasp fell from his lips and you felt his body stiffen against you. Sticking to efficiency, you quickly pulled your tongue away before lacing your free hand through his curls; using your grip to tilt his head so that you could sprinkle the grains of salt against his wet skin. Pulling back, you caught a glimpse of Chris’s face — cheeks even more flushed and his eyes momentarily shut in bliss — before he looked down at you with uncertainty.

Untangling your hand from his hair, you reached for your shot on the counter and held it up. “Cheers.” You whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Chris blinked a few times before picking up his own shot and clinking it against yours. His eyes stayed glued to yours as you both took your shots, and before the tequila had a chance to hit you with its after shock, you wrapped your lips around the patch of salt along his neck. Even in the loud room, you could swear you heard a soft moan fall from Chris lips, and you felt his pulse quicken against your mouth as you took your time licking away every grain of salt.

It wasn’t long before all of the salt had melted against your tongue, but still you continued to gently nibble and suck the delicate skin on his neck. As you did, Chris sucked in a sharp breath before gripping onto your ass tightly and pulling you against him. You released your own soft moan at the feeling of his large hand digging into your plush skin, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Jesus, Y/n.” Chris groaned. Against your front, you began to feel a fast-growing bulge press against you. Your mouth travelled tantalizingly slow against his skin, until you reached his ear. Grabbing his earlobe between your teeth and gently tugging on the soft skin, you whispered. “You should never underestimate me, either.”

At that, you heard an impressed chuckle. You pulled away from his skin and looked up at him, just inches from his soft lips. So close that you could feel his warm breath against your face, you began to feel intoxicated — not by the tequila, but by him. His hand stayed firmly planted on your ass, the tips of his fingers just barely whispering against your burning heat. The two of you seemed to find yourselves in some sort of stare down — neither of you moving closer to or away from the other — trying to gauge what the other wanted.

Finally, your eyes dropped to his glistening lips, and as if they had a magnetic pull you felt yourself inch closer and closer to them. Noticing this, Chris began pulling forward too, until you could feel his desire burning against your skin. Just as your lips brushed against his, you gasped for air before panting out: “Bedroom.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chris grabbed onto your hand and began leading you to a set of stairs descending into the basement. You could hear your own pulse over the music as it began growing more distant when you both reached the bottom of the stairs. Once you reached a locked door, Chris began pounding against it urgently. “Get the fuck out of my room!” He called through the door, and as you heard the sound of panicked shuffling on the other side he turned to face you; his eyes exuding pure desire as he ran his thumb pad against your lower lip.

You jumped as the door suddenly burst open and watched as two undone people slipped past you both; actively avoiding eye contact. As soon as they passed you, Chris grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into the dimly lit room. Without even a moment to adjust to your surroundings, you gasped as Chris slammed you against the closed door and engulfed your open mouth with his own. You moaned at the feeling of his lips moulding to yours, bringing with them a relief to the tension that had been building between you all night.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you welcomed it with a gasp. You relished in the feeling of his tongue completely and utterly dominating not just your mouth, but your whole body, as you felt yourself weaken in between the wooden door and his towering frame. Your head began to spin at the unfamiliar yet intoxicating taste of his lips, just as you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

His eyes drilled into yours for a moment, as though he was checking to make sure you were okay with what he was about to do. When you knit your brows together and began sucking on your bottom lip — desperate for his touch — he shot you a cocky smirk before drawing his attention to what was in his direct line of sight. His hands slid from your waist down to your thighs, where he began massaging them slowly while simultaneously dropping wet kisses against your burning skin.

Reacting to this, you inadvertently spread your legs further apart. As you did, you felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he continued running his tongue against your inner thighs. While continuing to drive you crazy with his mouth, he brought his hands up to the zipper of your skirt. As he fiddled with with the metal, he spoke against your skin. “You want this?” A soft moan fell from your lips, eliciting a chuckle from his. “I need to hear you say it, baby.” He urged, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly. “Y-yes.” You finally managed to reply, gasping for air as you did. At your response, Chris gently nibbled at the sensitive skin on your thigh, just below the end of your skirt, as he began sliding the black material down your legs. “Good girl.” He praised just as he let the skirt drop to your ankles.

Now with just your sheer panties between his warm mouth and the place you needed it the most, you began squirming as he took a moment to admire your barely-covered heat. He brought his hands up from their place on your thighs to the soft wisp of hair along your bikini line. You shivered in pleasure from his touch so close to where you were aching for him, and watched as his eyes seemed to grow enlivened by his view. “Didn’t expect you to be wearing something like this under that skirt.” He uttered, his voice thick with desire as he toyed with the sheer material. “What did I say about underestimating me?” You replied through your breathlessness.

With that, Chris looked up at you through his thick eyelashes, a smirk cemented into his face, before hooking his thumbs onto either side of your sheer thong and dragging it excruciatingly slow down your legs; until you were suddenly completely bare in front of him. As your pussy radiated desire just inches from his face, his smirk was replaced by one of agony; as if he was suddenly desperate to bury himself into its warmth. He grabbed both of your thighs, firmly pulling them further apart, before he ran his tongue slowly along your dripping slit; his eyes drilling into you as he did. You watched as a pool of your slippery arousal gathered on his tongue, and only once he swallowed your juices did his eyes flutter closed; officially losing himself.

You cried out as soon as his warm mouth wrapped around your pulsing clit, creating an infrangible suction that caused your hips to involuntarily buck into him. Chris moaned against your bundle of nerves, sheer enjoyment plastered to his softened expression, as you laced your thin fingers through his curly hair. “Jesus.” You moaned out incoherently, unable to form a genuine thought as Chris’s tongue worked you through shock waves of pleasure. He groaned against your pussy in response, his face completely buried in between your wet folds.

You gasped as you felt his finger begin to circle your hole, teasing your entrance as it begged him for more. Noticing your flexing walls and dripping arousal, Chris slipped two hooked fingers into your spongey cunt; pumping them into you with vigour as his mouth continued to work against your throbbing clit. The room filled with the wet sounds of Chris’s fingers plunging into you, and you felt that familiar tension in your lower stomach begin to grow nearly unbearable. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding your slick heat against his eager mouth.

“F-fuck C-Chris, I — FUCK!” You struggled to speak as you began to lose control of your body, writhing under his hold on you as though you were trying to run from your impending orgasm. In response, Chris’s fingers began to pump into you even quicker, drawing a long moan from your lips. “It’s okay baby,” He reassured you against your clit, his voice an octave lower than usual, “Make a mess all over me.” Your back arched against the door, his encouraging words drawing you closer to your orgasm. Chris used his free hand to grab your thigh, lifting it off the ground and resting it on his shoulder; granting him access to pump his thick fingers even deeper into you.

As he pounded his fingers into your g-spot relentlessly, your body momentarily stilled as you were hit with white-hot pleasure. “Fuck!” You cried out as the waves began crashing into you, causing your body to now begin to convulse uncontrollably. Your nails dug into his scalp as you struggled to stay upright throughout your earth-shattering orgasm. Once he felt your walls begin to pulse around his fingers, he quickly slid them out; allowing you to ride through your high as his mouth began ardently drinking up your warm juices.

As soon as he noticed your moans begin to calm down, he lifted you off of your shaky legs and carried you to the bed. As he walked, he effortlessly undid the many clips on the back of your corset; freeing your full tits and wrapping his wet, swollen lips around one. As he swirled his tongue around your pebbled nipple, he gently laid you down along the edge of his large bed. With a pop he pulled his mouth off of your tit before heedlessly unbuckling his pants and slipping them down his legs, before doing the same with his boxers. You watched in awe as his cock sprung free, feeling that insatiable need grow even stronger deep inside of you.

“Need to feel that soaked fucking pussy wrapped around my cock so fucking bad.” Chris murmured, collecting the fast-growing arousal from your slit on his fingers before using the slippery fluid to stroke his member a few times. Leaning down, he drew your lips to his in a desperate and sloppy kiss, and as he did you felt the girth of his tip pressing incessantly against your dripping entrance. Groaning in anticipation, you writhed under his grip and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Unable to hold back, Chris released a guttural moan against your cheek as he suddenly slammed every inch of himself into you. You cried out in pleasure as his cock pumped into you hard and fast without giving you a moment to adjust to his size. His incessant groans and sharp breathing let you know how good your pussy felt as it enveloped his swollen shaft. “C-Chris y-you’re hu-uge!” You managed to cry out, your eyes bulging from your head as you felt your walls stretch to accommodate his size.

At that, Chris lifted his head from your cheek and dropped his eyes to watch your swollen pussy as his cock continued to pound into it. He brought a hand to your lower stomach, pressing down so that you could see the bulge that his cock was imprinting into it. With an arrogant smile on his lips, he looked back up to your fucked-out face. “You’re takin’ it so good, baby.” His words made your head spin, and you released a loud moan as you gripped onto his arms. Chris looked back down at where your pussy was swallowing his cock, and you watched his jaw go slack as he seemed to relish in the magnificent pleasure that the sight brought him.

“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned out, his voice low as though he was speaking to himself rather than you. Still, his obsession drew another wave of pleasure through your body, and you desperately wanted to see what he was seeing. With shaky limbs, you managed to lift your shoulders up, resting the weight of your upper body on your elbows. You gasped as you watched Chris’s thick cock disappear inside of you again and again; pulling ribbons of your arousal out on each thrust and spreading them along your inner thighs and his lower stomach.

Chris’s eyes lifted up to yours, where they stayed as he continued to pound into you. Suddenly, he brought a veiny hand to your throat; gently squeezing the sides as he bit on his lower lip. “You see how fuckin’ pretty your pussy looks milking my cock?” You let your eyes drop back to the place where your bodies met, entranced by the sight of your bright pink lips wrapping around his length. “If I died inside of you right now, I would die a happy fucking man.” He leaned forward and melted his soft lips to yours, kissing you so deeply that your head spun.

Chris’s pace began to slow; becoming much sloppier. Deep grunts fell from his lips as he dropped his forehead onto your collarbone where he placed wet, open mouthed kisses as he plunged up into your g-spot. “Fuuuuck.” He hissed, his breath warm against your clammy skin as he seemed to get caught up in how good he was feeling. “Chris.” You breathed, your brain turning to mush as you felt every inch of his cock slip through your walls at this new, excruciatingly slow, pace.

Suddenly, his movements completely stilled as he leaned over you and grabbed a pillow from the top of his bed. He straightened himself up on top of you, grabbing your waist and lifting it effortlessly as he slid the pillow under your lower back. Confused, you look up at him with knitted brows; your chest rising and falling. Noticing your un-asked question, Chris spoke. “I’m gonna cum in a minute,” He said, slowly beginning to slide in and out of you again. “And when I do, I wanna feel your pussy convulsing around me.”

With that, Chris pressed one hand firmly onto your lower stomach while using two fingers to spread apart the protective hood above your clit. With his other hand, he brought his thumb to your exposed clit and began rubbing it gently; relishing in the way your body flexed erotically each time he did. Your moans slipped past your lips in helpless squeaks, feeling overstimulated by Chris’s direct contact with your bundle of nerves in unison with the added pressure in your gut caused by his hand pressing against it. “G-god!” You cried out, grabbing onto both of Chris’s wrists as he continued working your clit and fucking you senseless; unsure of whether you were trying to pull his hands away or keep them exactly where they were.

Chris’s eyes stayed glued to your swollen clit, but his breathing grew more and more ragged as he quickly approached his orgasm. You could feel his cock swelling inside of you as he struggled to hold himself back. “Fuck,” He growled, his cheeks even more flushed than before, “Cum for me baby, please.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence, a clear sign that he was on the edge of losing control. You felt your own walls begin to crash down, sending you closer and closer to what was sure to be an earth-shattering orgasm. “P-please — a-almost there.” You whined, your back arching off of the bed as you began to feel as though you were being lit on fire.

Chris dropped his forehead onto your chest, being sure to keep his movements the same as he released soft moans against your skin. “Come on sweetheart.” He grunted as he thrusted up into you, running dangerously low on will-power, “Let me feel you cum for me.” The gritty desperation in his voice was enough to finally push you over the edge. As soon as he felt that first intense pulse reverberate through your walls, he finally allowed himself to lose all control. His hips began pounding into you incessantly as your legs tightened around his waist. Deep, brutish moans fell from his lips on each thrust as his thumb continued to rub against your clit.

“Jesus fuck!” You cried out, feeling the pressure that had been building in your stomach release as you squirted against Chris’s pelvis. As you did, Chris’s thrusts suddenly stilled, and while his thumb toyed with your clit, he released a guttural moan before you felt his warm fluid spill into your quivering pussy. His swollen cock pulsed in between your walls, and you moaned in unison with him as he began to rock himself in and out of you slowly; using your tight pussy to milk himself dry.

Once both you and him came back down to earth, Chris collapsed into your chest; laying there for a moment as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your hands fell onto Chris’s curly hair, which you ran your fingers through slowly as he drew small circles on your hip bone; both of you helping the other get back to their sober minds.

After a short while, Chris planted an affectionate kiss to your chest before lifting himself up. He pulled out of you slowly, his glazed eyes watching as his cum dripped out of you. You watched as he reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. After shooting you a charming smile, he gently grabbed your right thigh, spreading it slightly before using the soft material of the t-shirt to delicately wipe away the mess he had made of you. “You sore?” He asked, his voice gentle as he gazed up at you. You nodded, looking up at him with a smile as you leaned back on your elbows. “Nothing I can’t handle.” You added, sticking your tongue out cheekily.

“I am gonna need your help with the corset again before we head back upstairs, though.” You sighed, gesturing to the discarded pile of lace and buckles on the floor. Chris’s eyes followed to where you pointed. “Or…” He began, tugging at the edge of his comforter, “We could just stay down here?” Your eyes drifted up to his face, and you were met with a sheepish, tired smile. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you crawled to the top of the bed and curled under the warm blanket. “Thank God.” You muttered, earning another smile from Chris before he followed you into the sheets.

He pulled you into his arms, and you closed your eyes at the comforting feeling of the warmth emanating from his naked body. Exhaustion began to immediately overtake you, and you felt yourself grow heavy in his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back up?” You asked, worried that he might just feel obligated to be there with you, “You’re gonna miss out on all the fun.” Your voice was now thick with sleep. Chris chuckled, squeezing you gently in his arms. “All the fun is right here. I told you, Y/n, my sixth sense never fails me.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

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