#my coworker: wow it's a nice day out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hausofwoo · 8 months ago

Text

open wide | park seonghwa

pairing: park seonghwa x afab!reader

word count: 5.7K

summary: you start working at a restaurant and everything seems to be going well; you work hard, you made friends, and even when you mess up, your coworkers still have your back… except for the bartender, seonghwa.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, restaurant!au, bartender! and dom!seonghwa, enemies to lovers trope, HATE FUCK, oral (f and m receiving), pussy slapping, dick slapping, choking, hair pulling, edging, fingering, creampie, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence of alcohol (but both consenting), unprotected piv (WRAP IT UP BE SAFE), cumplay, dacryphilia, seonghwa is an asshole and reader is strangely attracted to it, degrading, reader gives switch vibes, VERY descriptive smut scene [i have no shame], seonghwa is HUNG, use of pet names (princess, baby, good girl, little/dirty slut), woosan allegations LMAO, lmk if i missed anything! also feat. server/work bestie!ryujin, server!wooyoung and san, food runner!mingi, and restaurant manager!hongjoong.

author’s note: me n my friend were talking about seonghwa and the thought of him *ahem* slapping his dick on ur face .. and it sent us into a spiral. i had to make dreams come true. thank u to @hausofmingi and T for being my beta-readers and for giving amazing feedback and ideas :-) this one goes out to all the restaurant girlies!

seonghwa was pissing you the fuck off.

working at a restaurant is already hard enough, but to have an enemy that you work with? it’s unbearable.

you were new to the industry when you started at the restaurant, and of course you got treated like you were stupid for the first few months. you almost expected it, since you had friends who worked at restaurants and they warned you that people will walk all over you for being “green.” you learned as fast as you could, making mistakes here and there. but eventually you felt as if you proved everyone there wrong; that you are a good server and you are hard working, despite your mistakes. you built a rapport with your coworkers, and they granted you grace when you needed it. everyone, except for him.

the bartender. god that fucking bartender. your manager hongjoong introduced you on your first day, and ever since you’ve been butting heads.

“this is seonghwa, our bartender,” hongjoong says, pointing out the black-haired man setting up the bar. “he’s been here since we opened, but he’s been in the industry for even longer.”

“oh, wow,” you exclaim, watching him splay out the non-slip mats around the bar.

“yeah, wow,” hongjoong laughs. “this guy can pour exactly an ounce of liquor without even looking. and he’s fast. you’ll learn a lot from him.”

the corner of seonghwa’s mouth quirks up in almost a smug way. he’s good and he knows it. with his legendary status came his cockiness.

“well i gotta grab some paperwork for you to finish up,” hongjoong says as heads to the back. “i’ll be back out in a sec.”

you stand by the bar, basically twiddling your thumbs. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m–"

“look, princess,” seonghwa interrupts. “as much as i love introducing myself to yet another newbie, i have more important things to do right now.”

and that was just the beginning, and not just for your newfound nickname.

the best way to sum up how he continues to treat you is from this one specific experience. you rang up drinks for your table, and you meant to put a vodka soda instead of a tequila soda. you noticed it right away so you immediately cancelled that order and rung it up correctly. you promptly went to the bar to tell seonghwa.

“hey, ignore that first ticket for the tequila soda, i sent a new ticket,” you called out. but when seonghwa turned, he had the drink already in his hand, looking like he was about to set it on the drink pass.

“oh.”

he grabbed the new ticket with his other hand, glanced at it briefly, looked at you, and then slammed the ticket onto the ticket spindle. he turned around and dumped the drink in the sink and started making the new drink.

“hey i’m sorry, it was a mistake,” you defended.

“yeah yeah, it’s fine, princess,” he said with an eye roll. he placed the new drink on the pass. you inspect his face, wondering if it really was fine. he scoffs and pushes the drink forward more. “just take your drink and go, it’s way too fucking busy to be standing around talking.”

maybe it wasn’t a big deal. maybe he was just in the weeds and was taking it out on you. that’s the thing about restaurants, when you’re in the middle of service and everyone’s running around, you kinda end up saying shit you don’t mean. it was never anything personal. you knew that because at the end of service, you’d finish up closing with your coworkers and have a shift beer, laughing it off like it didn’t happen. because it didn’t matter in the end, it was just a restaurant.

but seonghwa never joined. even tonight, when you, the other servers, and even the manager were sat around the bar having your drinks, he just quietly broke down the bar.

“hey seonghwa,” hongjoong calls after him. “don’t worry about the bar, i’ll take care of the rest of it. you guys had a really hard night. have your shift beer and chill.”

“no no, i’ve got it. i’m just gonna finish up and get out of here.” you watch him as he lifts up the floor mats and starts mopping the sticky floor. you turn to your coworker, ryujin, who’s sipping at her PBR.

“i think seonghwa hates me,” you say, just low enough under your other coworkers chatting.

“what?” she laughs. “no no, i don’t think so. he’s just kind of an asshole.”

you glance over at him as he’s wiping down the back counters. you turn back to her.

“i don’t know, he’s just always been kinda short with me.” you look down at your drink and fiddle with the tab. “i feel like he doesn’t really like me. i don’t know what i did.”

“listen,” ryujin starts, placing a hand on your shoulder. “he’s short with everyone. shit, i’ve been here like 2 years and i still know nothing about him. don’t worry about it. he’s just here for a check like everyone else.”

you watch as seonghwa starts to walk back to the kitchen, lifting his sweatshirt off of his form, and a sliver of skin peeks at the small of his back just below his t-shirt. you can’t look away until he’s out of your line of sight, and ryujin starts giggling next to you.

“wait a minute, do you like him or something?” ryujin whispers.

“no no!” you say. “it’s just—i feel like it’s easy for me to talk to everyone here. with him, he just brushes me off. and he started that stupid nickname. ‘princess’. it feels condescending.”

“well i don’t know,” ryujin shrugs. “i don’t think he likes to mix business with pleasure anyway, in any form.”

you nod and look to see seonghwa back at the register, counting the cash and pulling out tips. he walks over and hands each server their share of drink tips, leaving you last. you look up at him, but he doesn’t even look at you. he just places the money on the bar, and quickly turns to go back to the kitchen.

“okay,” you sigh. “well i’m gonna get out of here, i gotta get some sleep. are we still on for sunday celebration?”

“um yeah dude. i’m gonna need it after we deal with the sunday service crowd.” ryujin grabs her bag and starts heading to the door with you.

“sunday celebration.” it’s kind of like a fucked-up weekly tradition your restaurant has. the weekend drives all of the staff mad and then after service sunday night, (since the restaurant is closed on mondays) pretty much everyone working grabs a shift drink and books it to the dive bar a couple streets over. is it healthy? absolutely not. but is it kinda weirdly cathartic? absolutely it is.

and you really really needed it after sundays service. you got stuck with a 15-top who had all sorts of allergies and dietary restrictions. like who the hell has a lettuce allergy? are they just making it up because they just don’t like lettuce? and why the hell are you trying to order a house salad when the main ingredient is literally lettuce? plus their drink orders were nuts. a tequila on the rocks? JUST tequila? and what’s worse is that the guy ordered like 4 of them. you just finished ringing in his 5th one.

you walk up to the bar to grab the drink (because damn seonghwa is fast) and look up to see him turning to you.

“hey, you gotta cut that guy off after that drink,” he says while shaking a cocktail in a shaker.

“yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” you laugh dryly.

“you shouldn’t have even rang this one,” he says, setting the shaker down. “you know there’s a 4 drink max, right? that’s like, a policy we have.”

“oh, i didn’t know that i guess.” you stab the ticket on the spindle.

“yeah i guess not,” he says with a sharpness in his voice, and starts pouring the drink in the cocktail glass. “just don’t do it again, princess.”

yeah, maybe you didn’t know that rule. but why does he have to talk to you like that? you start walking towards your 15-top, past the kitchen. you must’ve been really in your head about what seonghwa said because you completely missed someone yelling “corner.”

what happened felt like hours long, but it was probably only a few seconds. the food runner mingi was walking out of the kitchen with 3 plates of food. when you were passing by the kitchen entrance, it was too quick to move, and down fell all 3 plates. it was a mess.

“oh my god mingi, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim. you immediately grab a broom and attempt to sweep what you can.

“don’t apologize to me, apologize to seonghwa,” mingi says meekly, picking up the pieces of broken plate. “it was going to his 2-top at the bar.”

fuck. you don’t even want to look at him. you know he’s pissed. you finish cleaning the last bit of your mess while mingi goes back and asks for a refire on those dishes. as soon as you throw out the trash, you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. you can’t cry in the front of house, it’s unprofessional. but you can’t cry in the kitchen, unless you want the whole back of house to pester you with questions. the only solution was one place, every server’s safe haven: the walk in freezer.

you close the frosty door behind you, letting out a deep sigh that turns quickly into a billowing cloud. then, the waterworks. you couldn’t even help it, it all became too much. maybe it was out of frustration or stress, either way, you really needed this cry. tears stream down your face, turning cold on your cheeks from the freezing air.

it was mostly frustrating because the whole reason this happened was because of seonghwa. he snapped at you for not knowing some stupid rule, and it caused you to lose focus. it’s his fault.

just when you felt yourself calming down, the freezer door opens swiftly. it was him.

“you wanna tell me why my table’s food was refired?” seonghwa spits, anger in his eyes. “they’re gonna have to wait another 10 minutes and they’ve already been waiting for their food for 20.”

“seonghwa, please,” you huff, trying to hold it together. “can i just have one more second?”

“no! i could be totally out of a tip from a table because of you.”

“dude, it was a mistake!” you defend. you feel backed into a corner. literally, the walk-in was tiny and you were basically pressed up against the cold wall with seonghwa hovering over you.

“you keep making these stupid mistakes. i don’t know why they even hired you, you know fucking nothing about restaurants.”

you stood in shock. you didn’t know what to say. seonghwa had this fire behind his eyes that almost scared you. his chest was puffing up and down, breathing heavily from adrenaline. a bead of sweat falls down his temple, threatening to fall from his face. why did suddenly… he look so… attractive? you were so confused by how your body was reacting. instead of pure hatred, suddenly you felt a pang of lust. what the hell was happening to you?

“you owe me, princess,” seonghwa mumbles.

and in a blink of an eye, he withdraws from the walk-in and slams the door behind him, leaving you completely disoriented.

at the end of service, you were BEAT. you slump back into the bar seat, crack open your shift drink, and take a hefty gulp. ryujin jumps into the seat next to you, already drinking her usual PBR.

“dude, tonight SUCKED,” she groans.

“tell me about it,” you mutter, counting your cash tips. “at least they tipped well, but at what cost?”

“the cost of my fucking sanity, that’s what,” ryujin whines. “please tell me you’re still down for celebration. please please pleeeease?”

“oh i am so down,” you say. you look at your other coworkers. “san, woo? you coming?”

“you bet i am,” wooyoung chuckles, gathering up his stuff. “i’m heading there now. c’mon san.”

san stands and starts heading out the door with wooyoung but then turns back. “wait, seonghwa, are you finally gonna come to sunday celebration?”

seonghwa places down the wine glass he was polishing. “maybe. we’ll see.” he turns to hang up the glass on the rack and for a moment, just a moment, he makes eye contact with you. you look away immediately and decide to put your attention back on your beer. you chug what’s left of it and toss the can in the trash.

“ryujin, let’s go."

you and your fellow servers took the booth in the back of the bar, your usual spot. a couple of them were complaining about the tables they had, some were playing an intense game of darts, while you nursed your mixed drink as ryujin rants about her situationship.

wooyoung slips into the seat next to you, grabbing his beer on the table. “remind me to never play darts with san again. he’s way too competitive.”

you laugh, “you know, you say that, but you always end up playing with him every sunday.”

wooyoung chuckles as he shrugs. he then looks around the bar. “wait, didn’t seonghwa say he was coming?”

“he said he MIGHT come,” san says as he slides into the booth. you can feel yourself retreating as soon as his name was brought up. “but you know him. he never hangs out with anyone outside work.”

“he’s probably still scrubbing the bar,” the food runner mingi chimes in. “that dude is a clean freak.”

“nothing wrong with that at a restaurant!” san says.

“hey i’m gonna grab another drink,” you mumble, standing up. “i’ll be right back.”

you walk over and lean against the bar and wait patiently for the bartender to get to you. you look around, sort of people-watching the sunday crowd. it’s all industry people, you know it. you turn your head back to see the bartender facing you.

“what can i get you?”

“oh, i’ll just take a vodka cran,” you force a smile. he nods and turns to make your drink.

“a vodka cranberry?” you hear a chuckle next to you. “i thought your go-to would be different.”

you look over and see seonghwa leaning on the bar and looking over at you. he wasn’t wearing his work clothes like you’re used to seeing him in. he was wearing jeans and a black tank with a leather jacket. he looked different. he looked…. really good.

“oh, you made it,” you say, trying not to sound annoyed. you gather yourself a bit. “oh, don’t judge me for my drink choice, okay? as much as i love our free shift drinks, i don’t really drink beer outside of work.”

“ah, i see.” he nods, definitely uninterested, and looks at the bartender who had already set your drink down and was waiting for you to pay. you dig through your bag, struggling to find your wallet. seonghwa notices and sighs. “i’ll just get this one and i’ll get a jack and coke.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” you look up to him in confusion.

“it’s whatever, just take your drink,” he doesn’t even look at you as the bartender hands his drink over and grabs seonghwa’s card that he set on the bar.

“oh. well thank you.” you sip at your drink. “i’m going back to the booth.”

he grabs his jack and coke and takes a quick drink. “darts?”

“um, okay?” you stutter, watching him walk past you to the dart board in the corner, and then following him with a look on your face that could only be described as complete and utter confusion.

“san, woo, wanna play teams?” you call across to your coworkers. they perk up and immediately jump over to the dartboard.

“me and san versus you and seonghwa?” woo asks, rubbing his palms together with a chuckle. “let’s say loser buys drinks?”

“i’m not really good at this,” you say laughing. “but i’ll do my best.”

“oh, great,” seonghwa scoffs as he writes both of your initials in the chalkboard by the dartboard. “just show me what you got.” he grabs the darts and places them in your hand, touch lingering a little longer than needed.

“you know,” you say to seonghwa as you close out 18 on the chalkboard, then passing the darts to san. “i really wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.”

“we’ve begging him for what seems like years, man,” san chimes in, attempting but eventually failing to hit bullseye. yet somehow team woosan is still beating you. he grabs the darts to hand to seonghwa.

“yeah, what changed?” wooyoung says as he leans against a chair.

“i wasn’t really expecting to come out either,” seonghwa admits. “i guess i wanted to see what sunday celebration was all about.” he closes out 17 and 19. why is he so good at everything?

“i mean it’s just all of us getting drunk to get over a shitty shift,” you watch as he tosses the darts to wooyoung for his turn. “so it’s really not much.”

“did you have a shitty shift?” he asks, turning to face you directly.

“w-well, yeah,” you mumble, uncomfortable by the attentiveness. woo quickly hands the darts to you and goes back to a conversation he’s having with san. you look down at the darts in your hands. “look, i know i made a mistake but i really didn’t know that rule about the drinks. and it got me in my head and then mingi came with your table’s food and—“

he rolls his eyes. “you just make a lot of rookie mistakes. you’ll learn.”

you completely abandon the game of darts at this point. “dude, you gotta stop talking to me like that.”

“like what?” he says with a smirk. does he think this is funny?

“like you think i’m stupid or something,” you say, slightly pushing his shoulder. “i’m not stupid. yeah, you’ve been in the industry way longer than me, but we all have to start somewhere.” you grab your bag and walk over to the booth, san and woo protesting behind you. you slouch next to ryujin with a sigh.

“what the hell just happened?” ryujin questions, looking back at seonghwa by the dartboard.

“seonghwa’s being a dick to me, once again.” you exhale deeply. “let’s get another drink.”

as the night went on, your coworkers start filing out one by one. san and wooyoung were one of the last to leave together (something going on there?) and you’re left in front of the bar, struggling to find an uber. your apartment is definitely walking distance, but not at this time of night. the real issue was getting a fucking ride. every uber was at least 20 minutes away. you looked back through the bar window and saw the bartender starting to close up. shit, it’s almost 1 am. you look back down to your phone and consider downloading lyft for maybe the 2nd time in your life.

“what are you still doing here?” you hear a voice behind you. you look back and it’s seonghwa, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“i should be asking you the same thing,” you mutter. when will he leave you alone?

“can’t find an uber?” he questions, pointing down at your phone.

“yeah, its fine though,” you brush him off.

“you live close by right?” he asks, annoyance in his voice. “i’ll just drop you off.”

“no, really,” you huff. “i don’t need your help.”

“look princess,” he looks to you intently. “i’m not gonna let you wait outside a bar at this hour. i’m not that big of an asshole.”

you consider for a moment. he’s definitely right. it’s late, and staying outside a closed bar this late can lead to trouble.

“fine. but stop calling me princess.”

when he pulls up to your apartment building, you start to have an internal war with yourself. you can’t help but have this anger in the pit of your stomach that’s eating you up.

“you look deep in thought,” seonghwa says impatiently.

“yeah, uh,” you mumble. “i just.. i need to know, why do you hate me?”

seonghwa pulls the car in a spot and parks. “i don’t hate you, necessarily…” he starts.

“you just think you’re better than me?” you pry, irritated.

“i mean, i have been in the industry longer than you…” he smiles smugly.

“there you go again,” you throw your hands up, hatred scratching at your throat. “you are so belittling to me! you think you’re hot shit, huh?”

“do you think i am?” he smiles at the corner of his mouth, and lets out a dry chuckle.

“i think i can’t fucking stand you.”

he looks intently at your face, and you swear, he glances at your lips.

and that’s when he leans in and kisses you. it takes you by complete surprise, and you pull back. you look at each other with a newfound yet curious lust. for a beat, for just a moment, you both look at each other with the same understanding. you want to kiss him again. you grab his face and pull him back in. the kiss was all-consuming. you feel a wave of energy course through you, as if every neuron in you was lit up. it was almost dizzying. he holds the side of your face, grazing past your ear and the holding the nape of your neck. every touch felt like fire.

he slides his tongue through your lips and deepens the kiss, which makes you melt more into him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist and moves you closer. you felt a rush of heat run through you, but then seonghwa pulls back slightly.

“let’s go inside?” he asks, his voice low.

with no reply, you both get out and you take him up to your apartment and to your room, closing the door behind you. he stands close to you, pushing you up against the door and kissing you up your neck and jaw until his lips meet yours again. he slots his leg between yours and presses himself against your heat, grinding as he devours you.

you turn to push him against the wall and sank down to your knees.

“fuuuck,” he groans, smiling as he slips his shirt off. “i like this view.”

“shut up, asshole,” you snap as you unzip his jeans, pulling them down. you look up to see a bulge pressing through his black underwear. god, you can tell it’s fucking big. you graze your fingers over it, teasing him. he lets out a heavy sigh, and you feel him twitch under you.

“i need you to touch me now,” he says grabbing the back of your head.

“yeah? or what?” you tease, just barely holding the length of him.

“c’mon princess,” he says with a cocky smirk. that fucking nickname. he moves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock hanging heavy by your lips. your mouth opens as you stare up at his length. he’s really big. “oh baby, are you already cock-drunk before even touching it?”

you sat in shock at the sheer size of him. he grabs your chin and moves himself closer to your face.

“open,” he says, tapping his dick on your lips. you open up to take him in your mouth, with him groaning at the warm, wet feeling.

twirling your tongue around his length, you earn a pleased moan from seonghwa’s lips. you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, nearly gagging but pushing through. you can feel him twitching in the back of your throat, which makes you hum with satisfaction.

“yeah,” he hisses, pulling his length out a bit and slowly thrusting back into your mouth. “take my cock just like that, baby.”

he pushes into your throat and pulls out again, this time out completely. a string of saliva still connects between his dick and your lips. he grabs himself and slaps it on your face by your open mouth, your jaw going slack and your tongue out to taste him.

“ahh, such a good girl,” he smirks down at you, slapping his dick on your face again. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your mouth back on his cock.

you grab the base and start sucking like your life depends on it, going from the base to the tip, where you swirl your tongue around him. you regain a little control back, stroking and twisting up his length and sucking at his tip, and you can taste the precum pooling into your mouth. you feel him thrusting into your throat, tugging at your hair and pushing you deeper onto him. you can’t help but let out a whimper at the feeling.

“fuuuck, you like that, you little slut?” he tugs you off his cock by your hair. “you like when i fuck your mouth? keep doing that for me.”

you lost all control in that moment. you can only do as you’re told. you open your mouth like a good girl, and suck. he pistons into you, hitting the back of your throat over and over. tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you don’t care. you only want to please him. you moan onto his cock, forcing yourself to not gag from his size. the vibrations in your throat only drive him more mad, and you can tell from his deep moans and the hardening of his cock. he’s definitely close.

the grip around your hair tightens while he continues to bob you up and down his cock. your eyes flutter shut and tears start to fall down your cheeks, and you hold his thighs, nails digging crescents into his skin. he continues to hiss and moan in praise, loving the way you’re sputtering around his cock and leaving spit running down your chin. you take all the power left in you to lap at the underside of his cock, causing him to groan loudly and pull you off of him.

“open wide for me, princess,” he says, stroking himself above you. you obey and lay your tongue flat for him, ready to take his load. he lets out a long moan, spurting all around and into your mouth. you lick up every drop remaining from his tip as he comes down from his high.

just as you regain your composure, he’s helping you take your shirt off and kissing your spit and cum covered mouth. he pushes you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. you fall back and let him slide your pants off, leaving you just in your bra and (fucking soaked) underwear. he falls to his knees as he goes down to kiss your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your wet heat. when he goes to lick the wet spot in your underwear, licking a stripe up to your clit, you let out a small gasp.

“so sensitive,” he grins, lifting his head up and moving to take off your underwear. he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs back so your pussy is in full view for him.

“and so fucking wet for me…” he trails off before he dives down to devour you.

he laps at your wet hole, savoring the taste and the way it contracts around nothing. his tongue leads up to your clit, earning a sharp moan from you. liking the way you sound, he does the same pattern, making you whine with pleasure. he looks up to you, a moaning mess, and flicks at your bud teasingly, as if he’s mocking you. he hums in amusement.

“hold this,” he releases your leg for you to grab, keeping you spread open for him. he places his fingers on your clit, circling a bit before dipping down to your hole, just at the surface. you can’t help but clench. “so eager.”

he plunges his middle two fingers into you, your tightness gripping around him. he lowers his mouth back to your clit, swirling around as he begins finger fucking you. he’s eating you like he’s fucking starved. the stimulation had you gripping the sheets, whimpering.

he hums against your pussy, kissing and sucking at your clit. “mmm, fuck,” he smiles with a moan. “so good…”

you can’t help but grab the back of his head, gripping onto his hair while he works his fingers and mouth on you. he twirls his tongue around your clit all while curling his fingers in you, hitting that sweet spot.

“s-seonghwa,” you let out. “don’t stop, it feels so fucking good.”

out of defiance, he pulls off of you completely, your legs dropping down and making you ache from the loss of being filled. you can’t help but buck your hips up, desperate for him to touch you. he runs his hand back onto your pussy, spreading his fingers around your bud, avoiding touching it. and then, he slaps your wet cunt. you wince, partly from pain, but also from the stimulation. your bundle of nerves prickles and reddens the wet skin.

“mmm, dirty slut,” he laughs dryly, sadistically. “so desperate to cum. you want to cum for me?”

you nod, a little too impatiently.

“tell me.” he circles his fingers around your dripping hole again.

“fuck,” you let out, exasperated. “please, seonghwa. please let me cum.”

with a smirk, he drives his fingers back into you and latches onto your clit, working at a steady but meticulous pace. when your hips start grinding against his mouth, he holds you down, and continues working you. he swirls his tongue around your clit just right, and massages at your sweet spot. you feel your orgasm building in your stomach, like a cord about to snap. you feel heat rush through your entire body like a wave.

“i’m cumming,” you barely moan out, completely overtaken by pleasure. seonghwa relentlessly works you through it, moaning against you as you climax. he laps at your clit, trying to get every drop of your orgasm. he doesn’t stop until you have to grab his head and lift it.

he looks up at you with an intense lust in his eyes, and his mouth and chin soaked from your juices.

“you drive me fucking crazy,” you sigh as you watch him stand up and lean over you. he pushes you back to the head of the bed, on his knees and slotting between your thighs.

eating you out must have really turned him on, because his cock is hanging heavy between you, red and leaking with precum. he guides his dick up and down your sensitive cunt, gathering your wetness up to stimulate your clit. he groans looking down at the sight.

he eases his way into you, gripping your thighs to keep from snapping his hips into you. your mouth goes slack at the sensation, and you try to stifle back a moan. he inches his way into you, thrusting slowly until he bottoms out.

“fuck, princess,” he sighs, and he feels you clench around his length.

he leans forward to hover over you, slowly thrusting into your heat. he grabs the nape of your neck and kisses you deeply, letting you moan in his mouth. each thrust he pounds into you makes you melt into each other more, desperate to feel every inch of one another. the rolls of his hips hitting deep caverns of your cunt makes you dizzy from stimulation. the squelching sound of your wet pussy makes him pull away, now grabbing at your throat hard enough to where it hurts a little, but hurts so good.

“tell me you’re my little slut,” he spits at you, thrusting deeper inside of you.

“i-i’m your little slut,” you say between moans, completely lost in his trance. he has all the power over you.

he releases your neck and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, making him reach a completely new angle inside of you. he pistons into you with determination, and reaches down to toy with your clit. you begin to see stars.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, relishing the squeezing of your core.

his hips snap into a faster pace, all while mercilessly thumbing at your clit. the stimulation becomes all too much for you, and you feel yourself reaching another high.

“oh my god don’t stop, please seonghwa don’t stop,” you moan, unintentionally clenching around his length.

“yeah baby, cum on my cock,” he smiles down at you. “just like that.”

you can’t even think, all you can grasp is how good this man feels on top of you, how good he feels in you, how full you feel. your breath hitches as a wave of pleasure courses through your body, sending you into a blissed out state. your moans are matched by seonghwa, him fucking your contracting cunt, as if it’s begging to milk him dry. he continues to thrust into your overstimulated core until he releases his hot ropes of cum into you, completely filling you up.

he finally slows down his movement, both your breathing heavy and irregular. he pulls out of you with a hiss, watching your pulsing core as his release slowly spills out of you.

“jesus christ,” he groans at the sight. as if he couldn’t resist, he brings his head down and licks up your core, swallowing the liquid. once every drop is savored, he lifts up to level with you. he then places a kiss on your lips, suddenly soft, and very unexpected.

without a word, he grabs you by the waist and holds you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. he softly brushes his fingers through your hair.

and just like that, you both drift off to sleep with only one thing on your mind. what just happened, and what the hell is going to happen next?

a/n: this is my first real fic on the internet yall!! im so new to this but i had so much fun. i hope u did too! stay tuned for part 2, but for now please leave feedback ♥ edit: part two is here :-)

#park seonghwa #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fic #ateez fic #seonghwa x reader #ateez one shot #dom!seonghwa

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eideticmemory · 2 months ago

Text

SNAP OUT OF IT | SPENCER REID

Spencer knows he’s just a coworker. He knows he’s just a friend. He knows you’ve got a boyfriend. He just doesn’t really give a fuck!

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning/Includes: Taken!Reader, DownBad!Spencer, a little angst and a little smut.

Dedicated to wifetthew + future mrs stewart (and sidepiece) who inspire me everyday and don’t even realize it.

Spencer vividly remembers the moment he realized he was in love with you. Spencer remembers everything about you but this moment in particular, he recounts in his mind a lot. You had just joined the unit. He could tell you - you'd only been there three months, two weeks, and five days. You were flying across time zones so by the time you landed, it would be six days. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was nearly there. Save for you two. You tried your hand in a round of chess but you're shit at it so you'd taken to a game of cards. Spencer remembers thinking it was the easiest conversation he's ever had in his life. He could talk and talk and talk until he lost his breath and when he was done, you'd do the same until there was no air left in your lungs either. He shuffled the cards between his fingertips, hanging onto your every word, watching the sparkle in your eye as you spoke. He kept firing out subtle agreements between your words like, 'yeah...oh, I know...absolutely,’ not just because it's impossible to disagree with your pretty face but because you’re so smart. You get it. He actually had the thought: she gets it.

Finally, he thought, someone gets it.

And you felt just the same. You said to him, "Thank you for agreeing. No one ever gives a shit about my foreign film analysis."

"I...I give a shit."

You chuckled at the gentleness with which he swore and although his voice was soft, it was genuine. "I appreciate it. My boyfriend's unreasonably against the horror genre as a whole. I think it's his biggest flaw. I like being scared."

Because you were too busy counting up your cards, you couldn’t see the bright smile instantly drop from Spencer's face. He could feel the shift in his muscles, the way his eyes stretched wide. He promptly shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat, “B-boyfriend?"

"Yeah..." you shrugged. Very casual, very nonchalant. "Three years next month."

"Oh, wow," he replied and it sounded kind of snide but you didn't think much of it. “That's nice."

He had realized he was in love with you three years too late.

Spencer could have accepted defeat, yeah. Absolutely. If there's one thing the boy genius can do, it's compartmentalize. This is work. This is [y/n]. This is my coworker. This is our job. This is our jet. These are the cards we've been dealt. The best thing to do would be to play them as they fall. Yet, he keeps himself awake for six hour flights just to hold your undivided attention, to talk about things nobody else cares about. His eyes linger on you as you deliver a profile and he thinks: That's [y / n]. That's her face. That's her voice. That's the sweater that matches her eyes just right and the boots she wears when we travel down south. If there's one thing the boy genius can't do when it comes to you, it's compartmentalize. How could he?

He finds himself standing by the elevator at four in the morning. There is nothing exciting about being called in at four in the morning, save for the prospect of seeing you. The elevator dings and he stands up straight, poses his satchel just perfectly on his hip. He wants to be picture perfect ready. Like a model directly out of a Backup Boyfriend catalog. Although, when you step out, you don't even notice he's there. You storm through the bullpen, your phone held up to your ear and your head ducked down. You sequester yourself in an awkward corner, far enough that you feel secluded but not enough so that Spencer can't see you. He sways in place, an attempt to look casual, his hair tucked behind his ear so he can hear you better. He picks up strained words like, 'please...I don't know...okay...fine...bye!' It all comes to a sudden end, your thumb landing on the screen with such force that it could crack.

You seamlessly join the rest of the team, shoving your phone in your back pocket. Try as you might to shift your focus, the edge hasn't quite left your body so when Spencer asks, "You okay?" You respond with a curt, "Yeah. I'm fine.”

He thinks: That's fine. That's okay. I can take it. On the jet, you bury your nose in a case file and when your phone won't stop vibrating, you silence it completely. Spencer brings you a cup of coffee and you hardly even process it.

"Cream and extra sugar," he pips because he knows that's how you like it.

"Thanks.”

That's it. Spencer waits for more but it never comes. He sits on the opposite side of the jet, watching you pick up your phone, huff, and type, type, type in a rage. He thinks: I cannot take this.

The case is a good distraction. A relief for him to know that even when you are not yourself, you're still brilliant. You just can't help it. There's a moment where he just finishes the geographical profile and you stand at his side, arms crossed as you look it over. Your gasp cuts through the air like a knife and his eyes land on you instantaneously.

"Spencer Reid." You put your hand on his shoulder and oh, he almost drops to his knees. “You're a fucking genius."

You race out of the room and he exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He grips onto his shoulder and his skin is still red hot.

A win is good. You needed a win. You all needed a win. Makes you feel good for something. Makes the flight home much less suffocating than its departure. On top of solving murders in a rush, the mental gymnastics your brain has endured over the week leaves you exhausted. You pull a blanket over your body and snuggle against the solid walls of the jet. You let out this big, heavy sigh just as Spencer sits down across from you.

“Close call today, huh?” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod. You look up at him with these bleary eyes and they’re so beautiful that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to talk.

But he does, “All thanks to you.”

You smile. You want to be bashful, to deny the praise, but you don’t have the energy. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He watches you take another deep breath, your body lulling into further peace by the second. He hates to disrupt it. “You, uh…” he stutters. “You wanna share what’s been bothering you now?”

You glance over at him from the corner of your eye, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a profiler.”

You chuckle. He loves to make you laugh. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“You…you know I’m the profiler, right?”

You sit up, another laugh escaping your throat without much thought. It feels nice. “Yeah. Right.”

“So?”

“I’m just…stressed…” you finally admit, though that part was evident.

“Blackjack?” He sets an array of cards in front of you.

You nod, “I have a stressful job. Hit me.”

He flips another card, “Five. Yeah, you do.”

“And…it’s hard when…when things at home are stressful, too. Makes it worse. Hit me.”

Another card, “Ooh, six. That makes sense.”

“Sometimes, I…I don’t know…I let myself get pulled in too many different directions,” you look over your cards, dangerously close to 21, and you take a leap of faith. “Hit me.”

He turns the final card over and it brings you right to 21. The way it unfolds shocks you, pulls you from your brain fog and you break out in a grin. “21? That’s 21, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He bites down on the smile on his lip and it’s a look on him you’ve never seen before. You can’t stop staring at it. “All you, money bags.”

You giggle, “Did you rig that?”

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, casually clearing the pile. “There’s no rigging in blackjack.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before.”

“Everything should be that easy for you,” he whispers. There’s a slight change in his tone that even an untrained profiler could pick up. He glances up to meet your gaze, “I’d rig it all for you if I could.”

Now, he thinks because he’s resetting the table that you’re not focused on the subliminal message in his voice. But you notice. You look down at your cards, look back at him, “Hit me.”

When the boyfriend is a concept, an idea trapped inside your phone, a mirage that you only mention in passing conversation, Spencer doesn’t think much of him. Spencer doesn’t think of the motherfucker at all. You clock into work and he’s determined to take the time he can get with you, any way he can, the only way he knows how.

You get back into DC one night and the sun hasn’t even set yet. Emily and JJ invite you out for drinks and it’s with an anxious nod that you accept. So Spencer super graciously accepts. He strides beside you on the walk from the bureau, keeping you tucked in on the safety of the sidewalk because he doesn’t know how to not shield you. From anything. You order a wine and a glass of water. Spencer sits right beside you and orders himself a shirley temple.

You gasp, “Ohhh my god, I should’ve got that.”

“Here,” he slides the glass over to you.

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay.”

“No, take it.”

“I can’t.”

“But I’m offering. I don’t even want it. Maraschino cherries, yuck, gross. You have it.”

You chuckle and shyly grab the drink, sticking a straw in. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he nods. And he means that mhm in the way of it’s really no big deal. He’d give you a kidney if he was a match.

He trades you for your water though he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He watches you fall into loud conversation with the other ladies, yours being the only laugh to match Penelope’s in pitch.

You lean into him, cackling, “She’s insane. Oh my god, she’s ridiculous.”

His skin buzzes where your shoulders make contact and his face is bright red from how wide he smiles at you. “Oh, yeah. I could’ve told you that.”

Spencer’s absolutely obsessed with the joy in your eyes, the way you nearly choke on your second shirley temple. The way you’re so close to him. He cannot look away. So when your smile suddenly drops and that joy’s promptly replaced with anxiety, he’s the first to notice.

“Hey,” you whisper to the figure behind him. He turns around and looks the man up and down. “You’re early.”

The Boyfriend shrugs, “Sorry. Hi, everyone.”

He’s not at all like Spencer imagined him. He’s taller. Not as much of a little bitch.

You rise from your seat and wrap your hand around Boyfriend’s bicep. “Uh, this is just some of the team. That’s Emily, Penelope, JJ and, uh, Spencer. This is my boyfriend.”

They all dole out polite waves and smiles. Except for Spencer. He stands up tall and ha, just as he thought, they’re the same height. He gives Boyfriend a stern handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Spencer? Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard that much about you.”

The ladies exchange confused glances and you exhale a quick breath to cut the tension.

“Well, we’ve been together a while. Too much there to sum up in words, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Spencer nods and here is another smile you’ve never seen on his face before. It’s not genuine. That, you know.

“You ready to go?” Boyfriend asks and you nod.

“Mhm. Bye, you guys!” you wave, falling into the grip of the possessive hand around your waist.

Emily glares at Spencer as he lowers back onto his stool, his eyes not leaving the door even when you’re long out of sight. “You done swinging that thing around?” she mutters.

“Hm?” he hums. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.”

As Boyfriend opens the car door for you, he can’t help but comment, “So that’s Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah?” you buckle yourself in and it’s an anxious few seconds before he’s buckled in beside you.

“Well, it makes sense now.”

“What?”

“The little toothpick’s in love with you.”

Spencer doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the time you spend on your phone at work becomes more frequent after that. That you come in looking drained and pale even at ten o’clock in the morning. That, carefully, you distance yourself from him. It’s not a coincidence. It just hurts.

As he reads over a case file, he builds a tower of cards. You can’t help but admire the way his brain splits in two, one side reading and the other stacking each piece just right. It’s cool. You think it’s cool, but there’s not a kind bone in your body today and you snip, “Got nothing better to do?” as you sit across from him. “People are dying.”

“People are always dying. Kind of how we get a paycheck.”

“Mm. How altruistic of you.”

“I’m just passing the time,” he continues to stack. He’s very near the top of the pyramid. “People do all sorts of things to pass time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know. They spend hours, days, weeks, years…building something. And you know, you would think that would ensure some type of stability or longevity or…anything, right?”

“I guess.”

“But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes no matter how much time passes or…how much effort you put in,” he places the final two cards on top. “It’s just not meant to last.”

And with a tiny flick of his finger, the whole pyramid comes tumbling down. You can’t help but watch the picturesque scene, the way they float down onto the table in a big mess.

Spencer doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re smart. You get it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though.

That night, you can’t sleep. For some reason, you’ve got this idea in your head that if you force your eyes open for a few hours longer, you can make yourself useful on a case that, so far, has no end in sight. The hotel accommodating the team is a nice one. There’s a library on the first floor that they leave open 24/7, perfect for a profiler on the hunt. You flip through the files in the near pitch black, curled up in a chair beside the tiniest lamp in the world. Despite your eye for detail, you don’t even notice when Spencer walks in. Not until he clears his throat.

You look up at him, startled, until you see his face, “Oh,” not the reaction he was hoping for. “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“I like to think I’d find you anywhere,” he shrugs. He sits down in the chair beside you and looks over your shoulder. You can smell him from just a foot away but it doesn't affect you. It can’t affect you. “Any luck?”

“No. Care to help?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, great.”

“[y/n], it’s late. Nothing you can do without brain power.”

“I just hate…” you start, the exclamation coming out before you can hold yourself back. Spencer watches you intently, hanging onto your voice. “T-the detergent they use on the linens. Gives me a headache.”

He sighs, “Yeah. Me too. I swiped some extra pillow mints. Want one?”

“Mhm,” you hold your hand out and unwrap the candy instantly. It helps your anxiety.

Enough so that you open up just a bit more, you tell Spencer about the headache that’s been bashing against your skull all day. “But maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.”

“Or not enough.”

You laugh, “Yeah, no, that must be it.”

Your phone pings in your lap and you check the message very quickly, the small smile that once sat on your lips dissipating in thin air. Just when he wrangled a laugh out of you, Spencer thinks. Of course. He watches your entire mood change in the blink of an eye and he fucking hates it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Yeah…tired. Should probably head to bed.”

“But the detergent?”

You chuckle, “I’ll survive.”

On the elevator ride up to your floor, you rest your back against the wall, Spencer perched right beside you. You keep your eyes closed, your hands gripping the bar for balance. The motion doesn’t help your headache. You gulp, clear your throat, and when you open your eyes, Spencer is staring at you. Shamelessly. You furrow your eyebrows at him, tracking his eyes as they focus in on your mouth.

“Are you looking at my lips?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“Can you read them?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” that snaps him out of his trance and he stands up straight, shaking his head. The elevator dings and he walks off, exasperated, exhausted, exclaiming, “[y/n], who cares?”

Your jaw drops in shock and by the time you step out to follow him, he’s already marched into his room. You scoff as you burst into your own suite. You crash in bed and you lay there tossing and turning for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only thirty minutes but it’s long enough. Long enough for this unbridle, illogical rage to build within you. Long enough for your mind to fill with thoughts like: who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Oh, I’ll tell him what he doesn’t know. And you hop out of bed. You storm down the hall in your slippers, knocking on Spencer’s door like, ironically, the feds.

Lucky for you, he was nowhere near asleep yet. He swings the door open and he opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Listen, Einstein.”

“I’m listening.”

“Just…just because you don't get it doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on my relationship.”

“Who was shitting on your relationship?”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, I was shitting on your relationship.”

“And that’s not fair.”

“But you’re…” and he enunciates this next word very clearly. “Not happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I am. You don’t know anything. You don’t know me or my life. You don’t get to cast judgement.”

“Oh, okay. Okay. Well, then, I’m so happy for you, [y/n]. I am.”

You’ve said all you need to say and you have no interest in hearing any more. You turn around and march away but he persists, “Hey, I really am. I’ll be the first one to buy something off your wedding registry!”

There are no more card games on the jet for a while.

And that sucks, but you’re trying to prove a point here. Spencer knows nothing. Maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe that’s why it stings. Maybe that’s why he can hardly look you in the eye, but you’re trying to prove a point here.

You’ve drawn a boundary that should’ve been drawn long ago. Not even because you wanted to but out of spite. Spite can carry you a long way. It has before. The nature of your work makes it easy to clock in and think of nothing else. Focus on nothing other than getting the job done. It’s the moments in between that are hard.

Like tonight, as you’re typing up case notes at your desk. It’s too quiet. It leaves too much room for opportunity. Taking full advantage, Spencer sets a small gift bag in front of you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, your face etched with inhibition.

“I…” he stutters. “I got it a while ago. Thought it’d be a nice birthday present and I won’t see you tomorrow, so…”

You give him a small smile. The ice doesn’t just thaw, it melts. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you dive into the bag, pulling out the hardcover book and holding it flat between your palms. You release a small gust of air from your nose. You touch the textured font of the lettering along the cover. “Oh, Spencer.”

He has to act like the tone in your voice doesn’t have the biggest effect on him. Hearing his name in such a gentle whisper. He just shrugs, “I recognized the limited edition cover while I was in this library near the art museum. It’s a nice library, you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you breathe before you can censor it. “The book. I love the book. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

There’s so much more to be said. The weight of it all vibrates behind your teeth and you grind them together as you gaze at Spencer. He can see your mouth aching to open but he knows it won’t.

“Well…happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope it’s a great one.”

“Thank you.”

And you watch him disappear. You feel your heart sink to the barrel of your stomach, like all the words you’re destined to scream out to him are making you sick.

This nausea lasts well into your birthday. No matter the sheer amount of fuss. No matter the amount of texts or calls or gifts that arrive at your door. You’re sick. Even when you put on your fanciest dress for dinner, you curl up in your office with your new book, finally and for no reason, gathering the courage to open its pages and read the quote recounted on the first page.

“And here you come

with a shield for a heart

and a sword for a tongue”

Happy Birthday, [y/n]

Spencer

You slam the book shut and trap it in the drawer of your desk. You’re sick.

You still eat at your birthday dinner. The love and affection reserved for a day like today helps settle your stomach. You think: I am [y/n]. It’s my birthday. These are my gifts. They are from people who love me. This is my boyfriend. This is my birthday cake. It works, it’s working.

Then he pulls out that fucking ring.

The angle at which he kneels in front of you catches the light just right and the diamond blinds you in the eye. Your mind, along with the entire room, falls silent. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime - silence. When his voice cuts through the thick air, you can see his lips moving, you can hear the vibrations going wah wah wah wah wah. But nothing is as loud as the sound of your own breathing, heavy and rapid. Your hands are over your heart but just to keep it from forcing its way out of your chest. You’re sick.

You’re sick.

Spencer had just gotten in bed. He made it the entire day without allowing himself to call you and now he figures he can force himself to sleep. That is until there’s a booming knock at his door. Now he’s wired. He springs into action like it’s not a potential threat and he throws his body against the door to glance out the peephole.

When he opens it, you are still out of breath. Your chest is heaving and you wheeze with every exhale. His eyes travel down your body, the pretty dress and your beaten and bare feet, the heels dangling from your fingers. The look in your eyes is a mystery to him. It’s laced with exasperation and desperation and he furrows his brows trying to figure it all out. Nonetheless, when he sees you moving towards him, he wraps his arms tight around your waist, opens his mouth and gasps as you kiss him.

He’s quick to close the door behind you, stumbling when you drop your shoes to the ground, but only for a moment. No time for stumbling here. He moans at the sudden grip you take of his hair and his body pushes into yours even more, directing you to his bedroom with just the pressure of his chest.

Never expecting this to happen, let alone tonight, Spencer is quick to swipe away all the books that have piled up on his bed. He promptly takes their place and grabs your waist to pull you back into the kiss. You have to hike your dress up your thighs to properly straddle him but once you, he swears he can feel the warmth all the way to his toes.

Your eyes roll back as he licks all over your neck, attacking your chest with sloppy kisses and sudden bites. You feel his erection raise between your legs and the pressure of it has you moaning directly in his ear. The vibration scratches just the right spot in his brain and he bunches your dress up in his hands, the veins along his arm straining through his skin.

You huff, pull back to look at his face, his eyes hooded and hungry. “What…” you pant. “What am I doing?”

Caught off guard, Spencer can’t do much but blink. And shrug. “What…are you doing?”

You stumble over your words, if that’s what you could even call them. It’s more a collection of whines and one short whimper before you simply carry on. Grab his face, catch his mouth and let it go. Perfect for Spencer, because he didn’t really need an answer.

He follows your lead as you undo the tie on his sweatpants. He pushes and you pull until his throbbing cock is free. You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. It just all feels so unreal, like a dream, like a fantasy. Except it’s not, it’s tangible. You can feel it. You can touch him - and you do. You wrap your hand around him and shudder as he grips onto your forearms. His teeth are clenched tight so it makes it harder for him to kiss you, harder for him to breathe but he keeps you locked in place. If he could talk, he’d beg please don't stop, please. Please, please, please.

And it’s like you can read his mind. Through the ferocity with which he pushes his face into yours, the way his hips buck underneath you, you get it. You’ll give it to him. You pull your panties to the side and just the tip pressing against you sends a visual jolt through your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper. More like - right? This is right? Right?

Almost immediately, Spencer grunts, “Yes. Yes. Yeah,” he could say it in a million other languages if it would get the point across but english is good enough. You lower yourself down on him and thoughtless, he yelps, “Yes!” as he falls back on the bed.

Even though he’s transcended his own body, Spencer keeps his eyes locked on you. His gaze follows your jaw as it drops wide open and both of your moans fall in sync as you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s hand clamps down on your thigh, the other reaching up to touch your face. The tender contact makes your vision blurry but you can still see the way he’s looking at you.

He touches your hair and your jaw and takes a soft sweep over your cheekbone. His thumb runs over your bottom lip. He can feel your breath coming out hot and quiet each time you land on him, the rhythm of your body taking the air out of both of you.

Is this really happening? he thinks. This can’t be happening. But you increase your speed, lower your inhibition, send a shock of pleasure through him so good that he has no choice but to believe it’s real. You catch his thumb between your lips and he grunts, whines out for you, “[y/n]…”

“Mm, yes?” you lay your body flat against his, your hands intertwining with his amongst the bedsheets and he clenches his fist tight, tight, tight, tight. It’s all so much. Stimulation coming from everywhere at once. From your chest rubbing against his, from your pussy tightening around him like you’re nearly swallowing him whole. From the messy kiss your lips tangle in and the ever increasing volume from you both.

Spencer bends his knees behind you, supporting your body when your movements become rushed and uncontrollable. With your hand pressed to his chest and your head thrown back, he’s emboldened enough to grope your breasts, losely place his hands around your throat.

“Oh…” you whimper. “G-god…” and Spencer hangs onto the broken sound of your voice, enamored by the way your eyes cross over one another. He feels like he’s not doing much, like his body is still in shock and most focused on keeping himself grounded. As you crash down on him, he bends underneath the pressure, overwhelmed as each bounce grows more deliberate than the last. Each collision accompanied by a throaty, “Mm…mm…hmm.” Until your thighs come to a grinding halt and latch onto him, the orgasm radiating from your belly to your chest and directly to your head. He responds to your boisterous moan with a breathless gasp, catching you in his arms when you land on his chest.

He peppers your shoulder with tiny kisses, licking his way to your neck, biting your throat because he absolutely has to. Your hips continue in this mindless rhythm, draining every last twitch from your body as he whispers, “[y/n]…”

“Hm?”

“[y/n]…I, mm,” you catch his voice in your mouth, pushing your tongue between his lips. You attack his neck. You push his shirt up his torso just to move down his body and kiss his stomach.

“[y/n]…ah!” and though you love the sound of your name on his lips, you love to hear him scream even more and after you suck his cock into your mouth, he can’t stop screaming. Mouth open, body trembling, ear ringing moans. He reaches down to keep your hair out of your face and his hips jolt a bit rougher than he means to. He wants to look at you but his body is too taut. He wants to hold you in the palm of his hand, to call out your name one last time to make sure this is real. But he shoots into your mouth, his legs flailing around your frame, and all he can do, still, is scream.

You hum. You swallow. You slide off of him with a sharp pop. You crawl off of his body and drop as soon as your head hits the pillow. Spencer’s hand keep track of you, grazing your thigh, sad to feel you leave, begging to keep you close. Even as he struggles to breath, he balls up the edge of your dress in his fist. You lean back against the headboard, looking up at his ceiling fan, your body finally exerting all its energy and unable to move any further. The room has settled into nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and catharsis.

Spencer looks up at you and when you make eye contact with him, there are so many more complicated thoughts you could have. But the only thing that swims in your mind is the slow bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You rest your knuckles on his cheekbone and he promptly grabs your wrist, peppers soft kisses all over your hand.

You owe him something. He has every right to ask. As he opens his mouth, you’re prepared to tell the truth. You will give him nothing but the truth.

“Did you see they’re adapting another Stephen King novel into a movie?”

You exhale a small laugh. Partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because you had been dying to talk to him about it. “Yes. And I think it’s stupid.”

“Me too! I mean, the premise is promising, I think it can be done, but it’s the…”

“Supernatural element.”

“Yeah!”

“It’s hard to pull off. Major chances of it turning out cheesy and robotic.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’m still going to see it.”

“Oh, me too,” you laugh and his laughter blends in just perfectly.

It can wait. There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot of questions to ask and answer but for now, it’s easy. This, Spencer thinks. This is it. This is actually the easiest conversation he’s ever had in his life. And he’s not gonna fuck it up now.

Author’s note:

Ahh 😝 thanks for reading!!! Like, reblog, comment, all the things!! Just wanted an excuse to post this meme. Stay safe out here 😚

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst

987 notes · View notes

seospicybin · 5 months ago

Text

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART II

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

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foldingfittedsheets · 1 month ago

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The worst part about my beloathed coworker is that I so badly want to hate him less. Whenever I’m gonna work with him I try to think of positives or ways to connect. My life would be more pleasant if we had any common ground.

One day he came in and said, “I’m glad I looked at the schedule and saw I was working with you. I remembered you’re sensitive to my cologne so I didn’t wear it today.”

That was so thoughtful!! Wow! A genuinely nice moment!

I was like, “Oh man, wow, that’s so sweet, thank you!!!”

I moved his mental ranking up to 2/5 stars, it was a lovely gesture.

“Yeah,” he continued, “when I’m working with [Manager] I don’t have to worry, we just geek out about cologne.” He laughed and added, “Not that he could afford the one I wear.”

I crashed back to 0/5 stars. What. Back to square one.

I would later learn the cologne my manager “couldn’t afford” was $300. Like. I’m pretty sure he could waste that much on cologne but chooses not to?

After that I’ve noticed he tries to worm into good graces with gift giving. He gifted a different coworker a new pair of earbuds after noticing the guy was using very old ones. The guy was stoked and thankful but then got roped into listening to a rant about how bad his old ones were that somehow ended up dissing his taste to have had the old ones at all.

Today he showed up with a new mouse for my laptop after I mentioned I needed one.

So thoughtful!! He’d offered weeks ago and I just assumed he’d forgotten!

Then he told me what a great business man Muskrat is and laughed about sexist comments he’d heard while playing Call of Duty. Back to square one.

#ramblies #my beloathed coworker

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bitchlessdino · 4 days ago

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the one where the stranger you fake date turns out to be your childhood friend (m) [2]

A Valentine collaboration hosted by @camandemstudios and their masterlist

Pairing: office manager!seungcheol x childhood friend!fem!reader Genre: romcom, smut , fluff, slight angst Word count: current 21.9k (total w.c. 34.4k) rating: R Summary: In a world where relationships mattered just as much as money or status did, Seungcheol found himself wrapped up with a person from twenty years ago. He didn't know how you remembered him, and frankly he didn't know how he remembered you, but the way you've reentered his life, like a gust of wind, he didn't think he'll ever forget you now. tags: MDNI, Childhood rivals to Best friends to Ex-best Friends to Strangers to Fake Dating to Lovers (try to keep up),childhood trauma, mentions of neglectful parents, mentions of injury and sabotage, random idol features, reader and seungcheol in their 30s, grump x sunshine, fake dating au, office au, taekwondo buddies, virgin!seungcheol, experienced!reader, food & alcohol scenes, yearning, reader wears a dress, drinking, tipsy intimacy, heavy eye contact, grinding, dry humping, exhibitionism, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m. rec.), pet names (good boy)

[Part 1 in case you missed it]

“Hi! Sorry for intruding, but I bought coffee for everyone in the office!”

Surprise visits at work was a thing that couples did on occasion, so you thought it couldn’t hurt to try it. And as long as you gave a peace offering, nothing should go wrong. To your expectations, your surprise visit came with a whole welcome wagon. Passing through the hall, everyone in his department approached you with confused glances before swarming with warming greetings back as they accepted your bribes. It got loud enough to demand the attention of the office manager, hearing the muffled voices that bled through the thin cracks of his office walls. “What is the cause of all this—what are you doing here?”

Your eyes lit up at his appearance, immediately dropping the carrier of coffees in the next available person’s hand before rushing over to join his side. “I came to see you!”

“What about the cafe?”

“I brought a different lunch, just to change it up. We can enjoy it in your office.”

Before you could enter the door behind you, he took hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “It’s a mess in there,” he said through his teeth, code word for ‘off limits’ but if you’ve learned anything from the time you spent with this loon, there was no such thing as limits.

“Aw, baby! You know, I don’t care about any of that! Come on, let’s go!”

His resistance was no match against your sheer will as you pulled him away with a rough tug, subjecting him to a public, involuntary kidnapping in front of all his coworkers while they waved you off, happily enjoying their refreshments.

As the door shut, you dropped the take out on a table by a couch in a corner, letting out a low whistle. In good mafia boss manner, you jutted your lips out with your hands in your pockets and nodded as you scanned the room, thinking to yourself, ‘if only you accepted that job back in the day,’ but if you did, it would be under a corporation, and the thought tasted bitter in your mouth.

“Wow, this is nice,” you commented haughtily, scanning the perimeter of the room.

He licked his teeth, looking as if he’s about to snap. “You’re pushing it. We didn’t discuss this.”

“Relax, will you? I needed to do something other than go to the cafe because they’ll think that’s all we do.”

“Not my problem. It was the perfect balance between life and work. What if they hear more than they should?”

“We keep our voices low, just like we did at the cafe.”

You trod over to the couch, breaking open the take out, starving after running around with a wagon stacked high with carriers of coffee. You were thinking, at this point, you were practically that cafe’s sponsor. “Look, if I visit here all the time, you’ll never even have to leave. Plus, you’ll optimize your work hours, get things done here while we carry on with our obligations. Besides, it’s so much more private here, you’d hardly even have to do any pretending.”

He crossed his arms walking over to you, eyes fixed sternly.“…Why are you being so useful for once?” he asked suspiciously.

You smiled, extending your hand with takeout in your grip. “Chicken or beef?”

Your visits to the VENTE Co. office became an every other day occurrence, replacing the lunch dates that would take place in the cafe, now preoccupying the time slot of 11:55 to 12:50 and leaving on the dot. They were so often you were this close to earning a frequent visitor badge made of plastic and not of paper like you were first given, and admittedly that excited you and simultaneously worried Seungcheol that they’d offer you something so official.

“What’s the point of the bachelor party anyway?”

“A bachelor or a bachelorette party is where the person engaged celebrates the last night of ‘being single’ before marriage. Doing things like partying, having fun, but most of the time still clean and appropriate, although television may depict it otherwise.”

“Then isn’t a coed bachelor/bachelorette party contradicting?”

“It’s breaking tradition, and I’m for it! I think it’s sweet that they want to celebrate it together instead of making a big deal about celebrating it apart. Really shows how much they love and are willing to be with each other. It’s always been more for the wedding party anyway. The drinking, the games, clubbing.”

He stopped you from continuing. “How much drinking? What kind of games? And is the clubbing optional?”

You let out half a chuckle, knowing that these questions would eventually come forth. “The details are to be determined.”

“Great.”

“Sound more excited.”

“Great…”

“There was no difference in your tone.”

“I enunciated.”

You sighed, bowing your head. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

He escorted you out of his office, as he’s done every time you’ve come, to ensure that you don’t arouse suspicion from lack of appearances, while you clung to his side like a leech. You’ve begun seeing the difference it made, watching everyone that met your eyes and his with a bit more ease than the first encounter you had with any of them. It was starting to be amusing once they began conversations, asking if you both had anything special to eat, and Seungcheol would eventually give a curt answer when you gave him the nudge he needed. He was growing before your very eyes, improving endearingly everyday.

“Manager Choi!”

A man with salt and pepper hair approached before either of you got very far, his voice traveling from the end of that hall, reaching Seungcheol’s ears, to which he promptly greeted him back. “Hello Sir. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

He returned the respectful welcome with a fatherly grin, patting him on the back. “Well, I was in the neighborhood and decided to make a visit to the branches in the area, do a random check in. Outstanding work as always.”

Seungcheol nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you, sir.”

“And who might this visionary be?” The man asked, gesturing over to you with an open hand. “Head of VENTE, Lee Sooneung.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lee!” You brightly greeted, shaking the hand as you introduced yourself as the girlfriend. “I’m just visiting him at lunch.”

“Well, aren’t you both just darling? Where have you kept her all this time, Choi?”

Mr. Lee was a bit of a talker, and when he got started, he was the only one that was able to stop it, but there was you. Seungcheol came to realize that you were effortless in pivoting conversations, always knowing how to move them along so they wouldn’t drag out. And to Mr. Lee’s knowledge, he didn't notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. You made good company, and Seungcheol didn’t appreciate that enough when he knew he should.

“Choi, you must come to this charity event. My wife and I will host it three Sundays from now, and bring the ball of sunshine with you.”

Before Seungcheol could answer, you interjected cheerfully, “We’d be happy to attend.”

“Wonderful. Well, I’ll let you two be on your way. Don’t be too in love, not on the company’s dime.”

You both bidded him goodbye and walked towards the elevators, leading towards the exit.

“Why’d you say that?” he mumbled, under his breath.

“What?” You asked in a normal volume.

He stepped closer, repeating the words in hushed tones. “‘We’d be happy to attend?’ When did we ever discuss this? This wasn’t on our set agenda.”

“We can add it,” you argued, “You want people to like you, this charity event can be good for that. It’s charity for crying out loud.”

“That’s my boss, he doesn’t need to like me. He just needs to value me.”

“How is that any different?”

The elevator doors slid open and you both began heading towards the exits, already seeing the cab he called ahead for you. However, before you could take another step, he dropped his voice lower, pulling you closer and cupped his hand to your ear, making the gesture and words that came out of his mouth look more intimate than they should as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I didn’t get as far as I did by being a kiss-ass.”

You lightly shoved him off before you jumped in your cab. “Going to one event won’t make you a kiss-ass. Think of it as networking, building your rapport with other people in your industry. There’s no certainty that you’ll stay in this position forever, and I doubt that’s what you want either. Having a back up plan, or plans, isn’t a bad idea. I think they might exist at this event. and you could do yourself some good by going.”

“…Who the hell are you?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you closed the door, rolling down the back seat window to have the final word. “Someone who’s about to take a very, very long food induced coma.”

He leaned against the door. “Have you ever considered that you’re a terrifying person?”

“Have a good day at work!”

Just when Seungcheol thought things were getting just a little bit easier, you somehow managed to throw something else in his way. He should’ve expected it. He should’ve known better. This was you after all. Just like he should’ve seen what else was coming that following weekend.

It was early Saturday and somehow Seungcheol still managed to get a work out in. The bachelor/bachelorette party you mentioned was being held that day, and somehow, you managed to convince him that it was worth leaving the house to stay the night in a beach house miles and miles away with about ten other couples. Well, convince was a strong word, what word he really would’ve used was—

“–Trick.” He clicked the roof of his mouth while staring at the banner that clearly stated, ‘Welcome to Seokjin’s and Eunbi’s Bach Overnight Weekend.’ “You tricked me.”

“I did no such thing,” You told back, attempting an air of innocence.

He pointed an accusatory finger, his lips forming a line to present an unamused, but unsurprised, expression. “I should’ve known. No wonder you took extra long in my bathroom. You were sneaking clothes out of my closet for an overnight bag.”

“I could’ve sworn I told you,” you defended, throwing the said duffle over your shoulder.

“You most certainly did not.”

“...Okay, I didn’t.”

He tightly shut his eyes, squeezing them as if the situation brought him to physical pain. “I was led to believe it was one night, not a whole weekend.”

You groaned, “It was a last-minute decision. It’s only overnight because the place they chose is so damn far, and no one wanted to drive all the way back when there’s drinking involved. They wanted to be responsible.”

“You could’ve declined, or warned me so I could’ve declined.”

“Cheol,” you whined apologetically.

“Guys, you made it! Welcome to casa de Kim!”

“Jin!” You smiled, changing directions to greet an old friend.

Seokjin emerged from the house to welcome you and your unhappy guest with hugs. Seokjin and Eunbi had been your longest friends and recently decided to tie the knot, officially taking themselves off the market for good despite everyone knowing they were nuts for each other all their lives. It was just a matter of timing, and this was their time. “Where’s my girl?” You prodded, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh, you mean my future wife? She’s handling some last minute planning in the kitchen, but I’ll make sure to let her know you guys have arrived. Great to finally meet you, man! Welcome in!”

“Oh, thanks,” Seungcheol lamely greeted, accepting your friend's handshake.

Seokjin took a little time making small talk before going back to his hosting duties, making sure to drop off the party favors–what he also called care kits–before pushing you to your designated room for the night and letting you go on your merry way. “Late lunch in an hour! Don’t be late!”

“Okay, Jin. we’ll be there!”

“We will?” Seungcheol asked, resistance in his voice.

“Yes, now come on.”

There was the matter of the single bed of the room as you predicted—the cliche ever so popular—but that would be a problem for the evening. For now, they would just have to get through the rest of the day and get through Seokjin and Eunbi’s party games, which you didn’t doubt were eccentric as they were.

Your friends were excited to either see you and your fake boyfriend again or meet him for the first time if they hadn't been at the brunch. Seungcheol did the bare minimum, also as you expected, staying by your side and enjoying the food available to the fullest, and by the fullest, you meant loading up on protein and the occasional miniscule portion of white rice. Nonetheless, your friends made sure they were good company, trying to involve you both in conversations while keeping the attention on the guests of honors: the beautiful soon to be wed couple.

“Okay kids, gather around!”

“Kids?” Mark repeated, “We’re in our damn 30s.”

Jin scoffed, an offended hand to his chest. “Speak for yourself, I’m forever 21. Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted, I just wanted to thank everyone for coming. None of this would be possible without the beautiful woman beside me,” he glanced down at Eunbi, who amusingly chuckled back at her fiance, “and me—and I guess you guys too. So! Let’s have a great time this weekend, alright? To love!”

“To love!”

You all clinked your midday cocktails, and you watched to make sure Seungcheol joined in, and he did so from the comfort of his seat. With Just you. With a glass full of ice water. Drinking a measly single sip before setting it quietly down. This was going to be a long night.

“Right after we finish up, we’ll get started heading by down to the pool—the beach if ya’ feel frisky—and then the games will commence after a bit of play.”

“Frisky? 21, my ass.”

“Jeon Jungkook, something will go up your ass if you talk out of turn one more time on my day.”

Most of the guests decided to stay by the pool, while a few ventured by the beach, wanting to get a tan. Meanwhile, Seungcheol stayed inside with you in the lounging area as everyone else enjoyed themselves. He lifted his head up from his phone to see you, watching how your eyes followed the motion of their joy, seeing how everyone interacted with each other or with the water, either jumping in or on the verge to, while muffled laughter bled through the sliding doors.

“Not joining your friends?” He nudged.

“And leave you here alone?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “I’m good.”

“I’m not running away, no matter how tempting that is, I’m stuck here.”

You shook your head, putting your knees to your chest. “That’s not it.”

“Don’t tell me. You’ve come to enjoy my company.”

You crinkled your nose in response, “You know how to joke now? Since when did you get a software upgrade?”

“When they started to slow down yours to prioritize mine.”

You poked at his head in retaliation, but he successfully evaded it, tilting his head in a 45 degree angle, an angle that if anyone else saw would think he was trying to act funny or cute. Disappointingly, you fell into the second category.

“Will you not tell me why you’re deciding to stay inside and not be with your friends after bamboozling me out of a peaceful weekend?”

You sighed, turned back to your friends, and watched the transparent door screens like it was a television show that played in the background, not interactable. “They make it fun when I'm here.”

“How is that an issue? You enjoy their presence, they enjoy yours.”

“They make it fun. Like I’m being taken care of. While everyone is having a good time, being all coupled up lovey dovey, and happy, I’m chilling on the sidelines, or if I do join, I’m a third, fifth, seventeenth wheel. So, I’m used to sitting back. Letting the couples be couples. I just don’t want to get in their way and I don’t want them to have me join in just because I'm chronically alone.”

“I thought you would take your previous partners to these kinds of things.”

You shook your head, “Only smaller events with people that I know wouldn’t blink twice if saw me single the next day. I usually went to things like the brunches or parties with just my friends. No one else.”

“You brought a boyfriend to this event, you do realize that, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “You,” you kept your voice low, “are different. Obviously. It’s not like we can do all the couple things like everyone else.”

“...You said you might go to the beach later, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So, you brought and wore a swimsuit?”

“...yeah–Hey! Motherfucker, put me down!”

The moment arose once you were stolen from the couch, scooped up in Seungcheol’s arms as he carried you effortlessly as you flailed in his grasp, passing through the sliding doors and out to the pool side. Initially, you both hardly attracted any attention from the people already there, but your voice filled with anguish and unbridled rage was loud enough to reach even the neighbors in the other beach house a mile away.

“I’m going to kill you, Choi!”

“Oh hey, guys! You’re finally joining us,” Jin greeted, before he and everyone witnessed your fake boyfriend—or shall you put it, attempted murderer—drop you into the pool, submerging you into water.

For a whole moment, all you saw was blue and light as the pressure of the water pushed around your body and towards its depths, its cool temperature surrounding you as you inhaled it in your nose and through your lungs. You immediately closed your mouth, preventing yourself from digesting any more and pushed yourself up the moment your feet could touch the ground. Coughing and gasping for air, you scowled at the man responsible. “You—”

“You looked like the sun was getting to you, darling, so I thought some water would do you some good,” he stated, pulling a sinister grin, the dimple present like the mark of horns on the devil’s head.

“You could have killed me,” you hissed.

“Actually,” Wonwoo interjected from a few feet away, “He only threw you four feet deep. Five would’ve drowned you, three could lead to a concussion, but four is actually a good medium. Maybe a scrape of the knee, but you’d mostly be okay.”

You may have dramatized the experience a tad bit, but nonetheless, you were thrown in the fucking pool. You turned to your usually good friend, showing him the same scowl. “Now is not the time, nerd.”

“I like him. Keep him around.” Seungcheol commented, pointing to Wonwoo.

“Hey!” you shouted, still angry. “Are you insane?”

“Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mad like this before,” Jihyo joined in, doubling over in laughter, “not even when we caught he who shall not be named fucking around summer of ‘18. And you were pissed, but not like this.”

You ran your hand over your wet hair that obscured your vision, “Yeah, well, apparently instead of a pig, I picked a fucking psycho.”

Seungcheol edged by the pool, squating in front of you with knees to his chest before he landed his final diss. “Sounds like your prospects were limited, anyways.”

The bach party gasped, hands covering more mouths than ladies laughing during high tea, and the quiet, subtle laughter dispersed amongst them. It buzzed around you like flies, mocking you, and although you weren’t all that mad–like them you could tell it was all in good fun–you were out for revenge. Blood.

“Cheol.”

“Hmm?”

“I think you were right about one thing. Water does do you some good.” In a split second, you had his arm, tugging him into the water with you, feeling a pair of hands clasp around your waist as your bodies submerged together. Using the surprise attack as an advantage, you purposefully pressed your weight into him with your hip to push him deeper–sacrificing yourself even if it meant taking you with him, ensuring he felt the full under the sea experience.

When you both finally pulled up to the surface, he’s coughing as much as you were the same scowl on his face as you had on yours, except now you’re the one pointing and laughing, leaning against the pool wall for support.

“You did that on purpose,” he mimicked.

“Aren't you the genius?”

He splashed water on you. “I could’ve died.”

“I’ve seen this movie before,” you ask sardonically before his splashes came in waves, rippling back at you until you were forced to act in defense.

When everyone else saw how the scene unfolded, more of your friends decided to join in on the fun, finding more amusement in the pool activities than before. The noise amplified throughout the perimeter, but not a care in the world was seen. It was as if they were all waiting for you to join, and once you did, there was no more holding back. Even Seungcheol, chronically stoic Seungcheol, bared a smile that didn’t want to come down.

Coming closer to the dinner time, guests were about ready to change out of their wet clothes and into something dry for the evening, keeping in mind the games they’d be playing later. Meanwhile, You and Seungcheol rushed up the stairs, shivering without a towel, and entered your shared room for refuge.

“Get out,” you said, your teeth chattering.

He gave you an offended glance. “I have to change, you get out.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? My taxes? I need to change too, asshole.”

“Fine, we’ll just change in the same room. Quickly.”

“Like I’d let that happen, perv.”

He rolled his eyes, “There’s not really much to see. If anything, I’m the one that should be worried.”

“Excus–you know what? Fuck it, whatever. We grab our clothes from the duffle and turn around and change at opposite sides of the room. Okay?”

“Best idea you’ve had all damn day.”

You stormed together towards the single large bag you brought, both your hands moving in flurries as you grab your things. In the midst of the chaos, Seungcheol’s gaze accidentally pivoted, taking in the way your tee-shirt clung to your chest, the outline of breasts in your bikini clear as day, while your nipples–erect and stiff from the cold—poked through the material, moving violently as your hands swished through the bag. It’s until you got up after retrieving your clothes that he fixed his gaze, returning to rummaging for clothes.

“Can’t find it? It should’ve been on top of the stack since I packed your clothes last.”

“I’m looking!” he answered a little too loudly, embarrassed by the reason for the delay.

Refusing to meet your eyes, he stood up finally when the clothes made themselves known, holding them triumphantly, “Found it.”

“Okay. You take one side, I take the other and none of the paths cross.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the plan we discussed a mere two minutes ago.”

“Asshole. Okay, go!”

You both head into the direction you were already facing, your backs parallel to one another and the immediate sounds of wet clothes squelching on the floor as they fell in loud thuds. The ruffling of dry clothes were next to follow, but the thought hadn’t occurred to either one of you until you stood in your birthday suits that you’d be stripping naked simultaneously until that very moment.

When the awareness finally did kick in, you were looking at a painting of fruit as Seungcheol stared into the balcony, luckily too far to showcase your awkward circumstance, but both had nothing on their mind but the thought of their fake significant other stark naked. Their actions began slowing down, moving at a snail’s pace as they started putting one arm and one leg through a hole through a single article of clothing at a time, as if savoring the rush they’ve discovered the rustling of fabrics as they slid against skin.

You lightly coughed, first to penetrate through the silence. “I know what you tried to do.”

The sound of fabric flapping resonated from the direction of the balcony. “I’m trying to change.”

“Not right now, dimwit,” you insulted.

“The insults are juvenile, and frankly uncalled for.”

“I’m talking about the pool.”

“What about it?”

“You listened to my trauma dumping, and you didn’t have to.”

“...I asked.”

You pulled up your shorts, letting them settle over your hips, unsure if you liked how they squeezed, but let it go. “And…you fucking dropped me in the pool like a hot turd—fuck you for that by the way.”

He chuckled, and you didn’t see it, but you could imagine the smile on his face.

“But I know you did it because of what I said, that I wanna do couple shit…like playing in the pool with my boyfriend.”

“Was that playing? You looked fairly mad. Aggressive perhaps.”

“Yeah, well, you fucking almost killed me,” you said, tugging the final shirt over your head.

“Like I almost didn’t die either?” He retorted. “I saw a bright light in that pool when you took me.”

“That was the sun!”

“It looked nothing like the sun.”

“Well, whatever the fuck–oh, my god. You made me lose my train of thought!”

A hand fell on your shoulder, turning you away from the painted apples and melons to stand face to face with the person you were just imagining yourself screaming at now fully clothed, but as you looked into his eyes, the rage began to dissipate. Instead, you’re overcome with silence and a sense of gratitude, seeing warmth in his eyes you weren’t used to. You could always tell a difference somehow, and moments like this were when you wished you didn’t. Not when they confused you.

“Well?”

You’re jolted awake by the sarcastic tone of his voice, a stark contrast to his soft features, and the glint of something in his eyes you’re probably mistaken about. Or maybe he had just gotten a lot better at pretending. “Just, thank you. Thank you for trying.”

A corner of his lips slightly lifted before dropping, wrapping his hand around your wrist—making your eyes jump in size and only adding to your uncertainty—as he tugged you towards the door. “Alright, let’s get the rest of this over with.”

Jin and Eunbi came and delivered as expected. Their dinner spread was even better than lunch, making sure all their guests knew that they were in good hands. Seungcheol even found himself getting a heartier fill, tasting a bit of everything they had to offer. You enjoyed watching him pile his plate, delightfully surprised as he managed to get at least one of everything from the food pyramid. You made sure to tease him a little, to which he defended himself by saying he worked up an appetite with the swimming, and you didn’t prod him after that, just happy he’s enjoying himself. By the time dinner ended, all the guests’ stomachs were filled with bountiful amounts of food, leaving no one behind to starve. For Jin and Eunbi, the overly enthusiastic party hosts, that meant one thing: it was time for the games to commence.

Jin twinkled his fingers together menacingly, gathering everyone in a circle. “Truth, Dare, or Drink?”

“May I remind everyone we are in damn near our thirties,” Mark, tired and old, brought up again.

“Then sit out grandpa, damn!”

Seungcheol put his lips close to your ear, “What kind of game is this?”

“I’m not so sure. Hey Jin? Eunbi? What the hell is this? Truth or dare?”

Eunbi spoke up to answer, “Truth, dare, or Drink: Couples edition! A couple chooses between truth or dare, and if they can’t answer their truth or do the dare, they take a drink.”

“More drinking,” Seungcheol said, eyes squinting as if war flashbacks actively played throughout his head.

“We'll try the game. I’m sure it won’t be so bad.”

And it wasn’t so bad, for the other couples that is. For the most part it was a simple, truth or dare card game they found in an aisle of any Target or Walmart, but the contents included truths from “craziest place they had sex” to dares where they “switched underwear for the rest of the game.” Some couples passed on the card and took a couple shots, and then your time finally arrived, the new duo in the mix: the two everyone is expecting the most from.

“Truth. No. Dare. Fuck, wait, truth—“

“Damnit,” Seungcheol pulled a truth card out of the deck on the table and presented it in front of you both, letting you read it out loud. “What is your partner’s… ahem… sexiest… body part?”

Seungcheol had looked at the card for himself to see if you read that right, and everyone that circled around you cheered you on, wolf-whistling or howling as they all encouraged the both of you to answer.

“You’re starting off strong, huh?” Mingyu teased.

Chaeyoung was grinning, thinking this kind of game right up her alley, “So, what is it? Who wants to go first?”

“Guys—“ before you could even finish your thought, Seungcheol was already pouring shots, throwing one back like nothing and ‘boo’s took up the space.

“Lame…”

“Can’t even announce to the world what you find sexy about your girlfriend, new guy? Are you really dating then?”

As Seungcheol poured another shot facing it towards you, he looked at you with determination and empowerment. “I think of it as respect to my significant other, and it's best I don’t divulge in saying her most attractive trait if it makes her uncomfortable, so I’ll drink my shot,” he threw back the drink he held in front of you, “and hers.”

While others still found it a little cowardly, his gesture earned him a few pats on the back, thinking he made a safe choice. “Well, alright, good man.”

“You’re safe for now.”

You stared at him, knowing this lunatic did not just do that. After the shit he pulled at the company party, drinking should’ve been the last thing he thought to do. And he would attempt another try when they played another round, this time when a dare was picked.

“Give your partner a blindfolded lap dance.”

Seungcheol sighed, already pouring the shot. “As respect to my partner and her dignity, I—hey!”

The shot disappeared as soon as it was full, being tossed back in your throat as you stole his heroic speech as well, or the paraphrased version of it. “His dignity, respect and honor, yada, yada, yada. His shot too.” The second shot burned slightly more bitter as it went down, and you just hoped the rest of the cards weren’t as intense as the two you’ve received so far.

“Why the hell—“

“You guys are really private, huh,” Jin grinned, “Aw, that’s cute. I’ll let it go, cuties. Let’s keep going!”

That went on for several more rounds, and of course, the cards didn’t get any easier. So to avoid truths or dares, you and Seungcheol drank a lot. Not only that, you had kept stealing the shots back and forth from one another, trying to prevent the other from getting too drunk, but to quote a smart man that was balls deep in several bottles of soju, that numbskull plan was ‘horrendously flawed.’

“Ugh, these fuckers just wanted to drink! Fuck, they’re drunk.”

“If they just wanted to drink, they could’ve done that.”

“Let’s put them on the couch.”

“Man, he’s huge, where did she find this guy?”

There wasn’t much movement that could be made by either you or the man you brought, so sleeping felt like a natural course of action. The colors and lights of the room faded in and out whilst the music muffled in your ears. In a way, it soothed you, like white noise, and the voices that seeped through would only sometimes jolt you awake, until finally, slumber hit you, and you couldn’t detect anything or anyone at all.

The second you were conscious again, you found yourself on the couch where you last remembered being before completely blacking out. There was a dulling ache you noticed in your head as you got up to scan the room, seeing that you were completely alone with no sign or your fake boyfriend anywhere in sight.

“Cheol?”

You picked yourself up, holding on to the foundation on the couch and still feeling the lingering effects of the alcohol before going off to find the missing office manager. “Seungcheol!”

You face planted against the transparent glass window, seeing various familiar faces, but none of them being your plus one. Taking your journey to the first floor rooms, you attempted to see if he stumbled upon any of the game rooms or lounging areas conveniently available. It was unsuccessful when you just saw more familiar faces—albeit, friendly ones that were glad to see you alive and well—but no Seungcheol.

In midst of the chaos, your shoulder grazed an oncoming body, having been caught before you took a hard tumble, “Shit, oh, Eunbi. Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Hey, babes, you’re awake.”

You got on your feet, grasping the back of your head. “Yeah, I woke up a little while ago. Have you seen my boyfriend anywhere?”

She briefly spun to scan the room to check, “Um, not sure. Last I saw, he was on the couch next to you.”

You sighed, “Shit, okay. I gotta find him before he drowns or something.”

But before you left, you felt her hand on your shoulder to get your attention, “Hey, can we talk for a little bit, catch up?”

“Sure.”

Eunbi pulled you away to a tucked corner of the house with a convenient little window that popped open from the top. It was late, the moon high up in the sky, and you had no damn clue what time it was. You remembered that you left your phone in the room, knowing you’d lose it somewhere if you took it with you, and you were right, because instead, you lost a whole human tonight.

“Smoke?”

You snorted. “I still don’t do that shit, you know me.”

“Yeah, Jin doesn’t either,” Eunbi chuckled, lighting up her cigarette and blowing a puff out the window. “I’m really happy you came by the way. I was hoping you would—not that I don’t think you wouldn’t come to your own best friends’ Bach party but—“

You chuckled, “Where is this going, Eunbi?”

She was quietly, remorseful, leaning against the window and looking at you with a million words on her mind, but the only ones she could muster were, “I’m sorry for not being around.”

You lightly punched her shoulder, leaning on the window beside her. “Don’t be sorry you’re hanging around your fiancé and planning a whole wedding.”

“But I’m not making time to see you.”

“You’re being fucking happy. You’re getting married, shut up. If you were spending time with me, I would be legitimately concerned.”

A small smile formed on her face, taking another puff, before managing to say anything more. “But…I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend. Had to find out from someone who went to the brunch I couldn’t make because I had to deal with catering. I feel like a shitty friend.”

“You’re not, okay? You’ve just been so happy, and you deserve all the fucking happiness in the world. I didn’t want to distract you by making a special period in your life about me, or by taking all your time away from you.”

She flung the cigarette out the window to grab hold of your shoulder, shaking some sense into you. “You wouldn’t be. I will be married to that loser for probably ever but you’re my best friend, I want to make time for you too while I can before this guy steals all your time away from me.”

You shook your head reassuringly, putting your hand over hers. “He won’t. I promise.”

Your fingers interlocked, resting your heads on each other's shoulders as you looked back up at the sky. “You really like him, huh?”

“He’s all right,” you shrugged, a hint of a smile on your face.

“So he checks all the boxes?”

“I’m looking into it.”

You saw her grin from your peripheral, “And that last box?”

“Nosy!” you exclaimed, bumping her hip.

“Come on! Like I don’t know your sex history like the back of my hand!”

You fell silent, suddenly reserved at the topic of sex—specifically at the lack of—and for some reason you can’t find the heart in you to lie about that tidbit. “We’re not…”

Her head pivoted to you dubiously, narrowing her eyes, “Wait. No way…”

“It just needs to be the right moment.”

“Girl, the moment has passed. Look at him and tell me you don’t wanna climb him like a tree.”

Smiling, you exaggeratedly groaned, “Shut up, you're so annoying.”

“He is hot in like this super ripped accountant sort of way and honestly funny as fuck, your type to a tee. What do you mean you’re not in his pants right now?”

“Stop!” You shoved, laughing together like you used to when there was all the time in the world, “When we’re good and ready, we will.”

“Alright. You must really like the guy.”

“Yeah, well,” you began pulling away, being reminded he’s out there somewhere waiting to be found. “I won’t be sure until I find him dead or alive.”

She grinned, waving you off. “Good luck!”

Your search continued through the rest of the house, coming up short on the rest of the first floor after double checking the pool side before heading up stairs. Hushed voices and restless movements could be heard from nearby and behind doors, giving you a clear idea of the kind of things happening on this floor, and you pray to all the gods that you don’t come across something you’ll regret seeing.

“No naked bodies, no naked bodies, no naked bodies.”

You ran that mantra over and over, warding off the potential of seeing someone’s parts you haven’t seen before or already seen too many times, neither option being a desirable one.

And just as you were about to make it to the end of the hall, just where your room was and the likeliest place he’d be, your wrist was snatched from behind, spinning you around, and your person of interest stood before you with a goofy grin on his face.

“There you were,” you said, sighing a breath of relief.

“Here I am,” he announced, giggles seeping out of him.

“Where did you go? I was looking all over for you.”

He tilted his head to the side, and instead of answering, he just interlocked your fingers and tugged you in his direction, where you aimlessly followed. You were taken outside, somewhere you haven't thoroughly explored yet—but already lightly scoured by a handful a people already there, and now, you and Seungcheol as he claimed an outdoor nook in the very corner draped by vines and branches, as pillows and blankets were threw on to be cushions or stowed away in the corner for extra comfort. The coziest place you’ve ever seen.

“What the fuck? This is gorgeous.”

“Great nap spot. Come.” He tugged you with him, occupying a space that would normally fit two average adults or one Seungcheol, but he was determined to include you, somehow resulting in you mounting yourself on his lap in the open public for anyone around to see. Your eyes flew open, slapping him against his chest as he pulled you near, your knee jerking as you jolted in fear of others noticing. “Are you crazy?”

“They’re watching…” he sang, eyes glazing over off in the distance.

You slightly turned your head to watch his view, seeing a few of your friends off in the distance, coming from the beach or slightly in view from the poolside, that could easily catch you in whatever act you and Seungcheol looked like you were up to. However, at this point, everyone seemed to be in their own world, talking, laughing, minding their own businesses. You weren’t sure if it mattered.

You snickered, resting your hands on his shoulders and readjusting your knees as they dug into the seat cushions. “You’re gonna go this far?”

“Yep. I have to look like a good boyfriend.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “You had a lot to drink, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know?” he mumbled dumbly, his dimple indented extra deep.

You shook your head in disbelief, dipping your head forward and momentarily colliding with his in a headbutt. You reacted as expected, rubbing your forehead at the slight ache you caused, but from the lack of tact of the receiver, your assumptions were true. “You're so drunk right now.”

His hand rose to your hair, patting it down before finding your ear. As he thumbed over the curve of the helix, he could feel the heat bloom between his fingers. “You look so pretty right now.”

“Cheol,” you tried getting up, but he sat you back down, gripping you by your hips until they met his.

“Stay,” he quietly pleaded, his eyes glistening under the moonlight staring back at you with utter need that you have no choice but just melt right back in his touch.

You couldn’t believe the situation happening right now, and neither could your heart in your chest as it started beating at twice its usual rate. All you could focus on was his hands as they traveled up your body, skimming through the thin fabric of your shirt, following up your spine as he let out soft, ragged breaths.

You pressed the pads of your fingers a little deeper into the meat of his shoulders, “S-Seungcheol–”

“Do you know what will really convince them?” His voice was unrecognizable, deep and indulgent.

You made the ghost of a whimper as a finger travelled back down your body as you responded earnestly. “I don’t think we have to do much more convincing. I think they believe us when we say we’re a couple.”

“But you know what will really convince them, though?”

You were scared to even ask, thinking a single word would burst this bubble you have no idea how you got caught in. “What?” you asked softly.

Your breath caught in your throat as you didn’t even dare blink, following his eyes as his hands made waves up your body. He pushed you against him, reclaiming your hips before puppeting them to roll against the definition of his thigh. Your stomach seized and your shoulders tensed, the sensation bringing you to shock as you beckoned forward at his will, his face being brought closer to yours in the process.

“W-what are you…mmh…” Your thoughts to fend him off ran hollow pulling your gaze up to sink into the titillation, mewls buzzing on your tongue.

The chills that once ran up your body evolved into fire, its heat steadily burning a path from your chest to far below your torso, and your hips developed a rhythm to match his. Not one word was exchanged, unlike the usual berating and bickering that was constant whenever you were within touching distance of each other, the only language that was spoken here were bodies in that tiny space. And that night, Seungcheol looked determined to become fluent in yours.

Seungcheol’s lips parted slightly as he peered at you through his long lashes, his grip growing possessive as his fingers spread, pressing the fullness of his palms into your back. Growing under you was his size, stretching the groin of his linen pants and making it harder to avoid clashing the closer and fiercer you rolled your hips against him.

“Am I doing too much?” he softly murmured, breathing the words into your clavicle.

“N-no,” you answered, finding his eyes and not minding getting lost in them. “Not at all.”

“Then,” Holding your gaze, his hands moved lower and crept under shirt, itching to feel even the hairs that stood on your back, “Can I?”

You nodded frantically, choking back a garbled, “Yes,” before both palms welcomed themselves underneath, clutching you against him to the point his length was wedged between your torsos.

You heard him bite back a moan from the depth of his throat before his hands trailed up your body, pricking the skin where he ran, his thumbs hooked underneath your bra. He smoothed the pads of his digits from underneath the band, memorizing it from its lace to the silicone that kept it in place, and stopping at your side where the cups of the underwear began.

He finally blinked, the entirety of the act not once having broken eye contact as he touched you, ensuring that every second he was looking at you and you looked at him, as if looking away for even a second meant that all of it would disappear. You showed no signs of protest, and he teased you with his thumb, sliding underneath and over the curve of your breast, watching the quiver of your lips as he inched closer to your stiff peak.

You sucked in a sharp breath, a soft twitch to your leg broke out when his thumb grazed and then circled the nipple, the tension in your stomach tightening more. “S-Seungcheol,” you called out in a weak breath before you rolled your hips again, seeing that he felt every bit of your heat through your ruined shorts.

Pressing his plush bottom lip between his teeth, he shoved his hand underneath the cups, the warmth of his hands fumbling their shape and weight before he gave them both the same fate he let you sample before. He thumbed your nipples with a heady need, leading up to the speed you found yourself grinding on him.

If someone had told you twenty years ago–fuck, a few days ago, that you’d willing sit on Choi Seungcheol lap—let alone dry hump—in the open public, you would’ve told them ‘quite literally to choke on rocks’ for putting that idea into the universe. Yet, at that very moment, you were seeing–experiencing every single second of it, and drowning in the rhapsody that he was leaving you in.

Besides that, you got to feel it as much as you saw it through Seungcheol, who looked more expressive than he’s ever been. You saw it every furrow of his thick dark eyebrows; every sound that passed through full, cherry red lips; every gulp from his thick and biteable neck. Everything from start to finish was embedded in every wrinkle in your brain, and by the look of the flushed and dazed expression of your conspirer, he wouldn’t either.

“I’m close…” you rasped, your hands crawling up in his hair and threading through his locks.

He panted against you, nodded, his fingers wrapping against your sides as his thumbs pushed against your now sensitive buds, scooting you both deeper inside the nook. “Whatever you want…fast, slow…I’ll try to help.”

You softly pouted, the urge to kiss the man you’ve spent months with relearning about, falling and lusting for, burning a hole in your chest. Still, you persisted, desperate to see that gorgeous face and every wrinkle crease the second he’s overcome with his own climax.

“Fuck,” you whimpered before maneuvering your position so he’d lean against the pillows behind him. Restarting your pace–your close race to bliss just out of reach–you pushed your weight deeper, undulating with every grind as the shape of his cock, sat between your bottoms swallowed up by your folds. “Just sit tight.”

He visibly gulped, staring at your clothed pussy within reach before looking back at you. “You just said you were close.”

You leaned in, faces just inches away from each other, chests heaving against one another. “And I can get there again. Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t stop touching me either.”

His eyes briefly drifted, settling on the lower half over your face before coming right back up, leaving you with an, “Okay,” before moving his hands up your shirt again.

It didn't take long for you to regain your momentum, Seungcheol being a helping hand as he teased your nipples raw and made your breasts feel tender to the touch. Your core clenched around the familiar exultation you were seconds from encountering before. “I’m close, I’m close, I’m so fucking close–fuck, fuck!”

“You’re doing well. Don’t stop now, you—ah…” Seungcheol swallowed his thought, clasping his hands around you, thumbs pushing your nipples inversely as something possessed you both, leaving just raw primal movement in its wake.

Drool pooled in your mouth, before dripping down your chin and the cotton of his shirt. The reckless, final moments of your extemporaneous, lewd events near its end as the sounds of your voices fused in a single unit. The only things left to do was clutch on together, riding the last wave, savoring every second of the high.

Sweat was clamming your thighs as you stared at one another, listening to nothing but the sound of each other's pants. A smile broke out on your face as you finally shielded your eyes, covering your timid expression under a confident grin. You lightly scanned the area behind you, seeing it sparse of people with exception of a few still by the pool, trying to distract from the reservation you felt being intimate, and the swirling hectic thoughts they were leaving you in after. “God, I wonder if anyone saw that. I don’t see anyone around.”

“I just ruined a perfectly good pair of pants.”

You snickered, turning to see the stoicism back on Seungcheol’s face as usual. “Look who’s all sober.”

He slightly turned his head, cheeks painted a subtle pink.

“Good job, Virgin,” you backhandedly compliment with a kiss on the cheek.

Seungcheol had a lot on his mind, especially a lot he wanted to say to you and how fucking amazing every inch of you was against him, but nothing could come out, even when you were just positively radiant above him like you were right now, right after the moment you shared. If alcohol did anything useful, it made things easy to spill from his lips, but the words currently on the tip of his tongue were being swallowed by his sobriety, his logic and reasoning that held him back. He knew couldn't deal with these kinds of emotions right now. Not at the moment.

So instead, he decided to carry you, and you emitted a yelp at the volume of a chihuahua in response. You threw your arms over his shoulders on instinct, pressing firmly to the toned build of his body, as he wrapped your legs around his torso, bouncing you to readjust you in his grip and securing you before setting off wherever without a word. You gazed back at him, feeling warm and protected in his arms; it was something you could get used to.

You made yourself comfortable, looping your arms tighter around his neck, “Where are we going? And why are you carrying me?”

“The room. You are my Trojan horse after the shit you pulled out there.”

“That you started, excuse you. And Trojan, hmm? You definitely referenced that on purpose.”

He trotted off a smirk before walking back in the house, ignoring everyone else that hooted and hollered at you both in the compromising position as he carried you off the stairs.

“Shower, please,” he pleaded, dropping you the second you entered the room as he split off to the other side.

“Tch, you’re the one who ruined your pants.”

“I can smell you from over here.”

You held your hands over your body in shame. “Why the hell would you say that to me?!”

He gazed over at you apologetically, “I didn’t say it was a bad smell, just please get decent. You have a lot more self control than I do right now.”

“I do?”

Suddenly, he moved in long strides, reaching you until your faces were inches apart, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. His lips parted temptingly as his gaze migrated over your being as though he devoured you where you stood and did not care who’d watched. “Yes. A fuck ton more.”

You backed away, slowly on the verge of jumping him yourself, while your heart was on the verge of exploding out of your chest. “F-fine, I’ll go shower.”

“Thank you.”

Gathering your things, you thought to check the time on your phone. “Wow, it’s only 1AM.”

“1AM?! No, no, I need to sleep soon,” he ushered you out, “go, go, be quick.”

“Alright, geez.”

You had only hoped the only witnesses to your little exhibitionist act were you two and the shower head that was washing the evidence away. Maybe it was weird, but you didn’t expect to mourn it. You’ve lost the only physical proof of what transpired tonight, but then smiled to yourself knowing that it happened at all. Something about it brought you bliss, knowing he’s there in the other room, waiting for his shower, and then waiting to jump into bed with you.

By the time you got in bed, all you could think about was him coming back, patiently waiting for his arrival as you laid peacefully in bed. It had been a while since you cuddled up with someone, and that someone being Seungcheol made you curious about the type of person he’d be in bed. Did he snore, take up the sheets, have night terrors? Before expanding on more ideas, you heard the faint turn of the door knob, and you quickly closed your eyes. The soft rustle clothes followed while the flat foot steps trotted closer to bed. Finally, you felt a weight dip into the mattress, and you pressed a hand to your heart, feeling how fast it started to race, anticipation trickling inside you and setting until…nothing.

One minute passed, and then two, confusion setting in. You fully swivel your head to see his side of the bed to see him with his eyes closed, fast asleep, soft snores as his chest rose and fell.

“He actually fell asleep,” you whispered to yourself, waving a hand over his face for good measure. “Dammit.”

You slumped flat on the bed, letting out a deep exhale, before looking back at him again, subconsciously tracing over his features that were pretty even while asleep in the darkest of nights. “I’ll be mad at him in the morning.”

When morning arrived, everyone was just about ready to leave, but not after Jin insisted on each and every guest grab some fresh breakfast before hitting the road, ending the trip the bittersweetest of goodbyes. You glanced through your peripheral vision at Seungcheol as you forked at your waffles topped with syrup and freshly picked strawberries, seeing him enjoy his expected lean and clean breakfast without a care in the world.

“Everyone had a good night,” Jin inquired, nudging the people around him, unfortunately that being Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“Someone had a lot of fun. Too much maybe,” Nayeon emphasized with a grin, not looking up, and everyone decided to randomly pick a victim, ultimately landing on poor Jungkook, the man with his mouth full.

“Wha’ I do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not him.” Her gaze flickered in front of her, meeting your eyes, busting out a wide grin when your eyes launched at her.

“Me?!”

“Oh yeah,” Baekho agreed with his girlfriend, “her and boyfie were both drinking a lot that night, fucking blacked out before it was even 10pm. You guys could’ve just drank if you wanted to, you didn’t have to play.”

Nayeon rolled her eyes again, nudging her boyfriend, who pouted back at her confused. “Not what I’m talking about, dummy.”

“Okay,” you interjected, “I think we all had a little fun, mmkay? Let’s leave it at that while our friendships are still intact.”

“Why, hon?” Eunbi was the one to join, catching Nayeon’s drift. “You got something to share with the class?”

“On your guys’ weekend! Pff! No!” You shook your head with a smile that pleaded ‘please end it all for my sake, so help me, God.’

“How thoughtful,” Eunbi chuckled before continuing her meal.

Seungcheol’s foot slid next to yours under the table, catching your attention. “How loud were we last night?” he whispered, keeping a straight face, but his eyes were riddled with fear.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, leaning up to answer. “You really wanted to convince them.”

And from that, his face could no longer be held together, the pink spreading over his cheeks just before he tightly shut his eyes, embracing the impact of reality as it shattered over him like a glass ceiling. He was an animal. He could not touch another alcoholic beverage again. Even isopropyl was too risky.

The girl in front of you witnessed the entire encounter, grinning a smile of pure joy before kicking your foot on the table to your attention. “Hey.”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you said, glazing over your friend’s intrusion.

“Congratulations. I think this is the best one.”

“Please don’t rank my boyfriends like show dogs.”

“But this one has a nice coat and makes you happy, like really happy.”

“Don’t make me climb over there.”

With the back and forth teasing and the final moments of byes and hugs, everyone was off and back on the road to drive at least another three hours back to the city. You slumped against the leather of the car seat, watching as he steered his wheel and safely guided you both back home. A smile stretched over your face just at the sight of him, until you remembered you were supposed to be mad at him. Then you turned away, forcing a frown as you looked at a window.

Yet, minutes would pass by, and not a word would be exchanged. Complete and utter silence. It drove you insane. Did he not notice you at all, or was he that focused on driving? Or was he being the lunatic he always is pretending not to notice?

For emphasis, you crossed your arms, making a show of internal frustration outwardly so he’d somehow get the hint, hoping he'd at least ask you if something was wrong. Still, the silence would stretch forever and that alone was pissing you off. As if you could feel your brain cells slowly die off in this agonizingly, quiet void.

Your eternal inferno is brought to an end when you're brought home, your home, the place you’re hardly at these days when you’re visiting and making time for Seungcheol to play pretend girlfriend except to sleep.

“We’re here. You can leave the clothes behind. I’ll have them washed by the time you come to my place next weekend for the event.”

“Next weekend? You don’t want to see me this week?”

He shook his head without a second to think, your worlds crashing all at once. “Not this week. Lunch also will be forgoed for the time being just until we have the situation at work under control.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s what?”

“You—this weekend—you know what? Okay. Good luck with work.” You unfastened your seat belt, and opened the door, seeing yourself out.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” was the last thing you heard before you slammed the door shut and the car drove off onto the street, leaving you behind in disbelief.

Your arms dropped limp against your sides, entering your apartment, a weight dropped on your chest, and you fell face first onto bed.

Saturday was like something that fell out of pages of a book, torn and pasted on the vision board of a lovesick young girl about the kind of nights they dream of having once they’re older. Something silly, something fun, spontaneous, reckless. Maybe something they’d regret one day but felt right at the moment. It looked colorful as much as it felt colorful. Just pure desire and lost inhibitions, as you connected those many people or that one person.

Sunday was shit. It wasn’t something you wanted to live through, because of free will, you chose not to, spending the rest of the hours of your afternoon and evening feeling bad about yourself thinking about Saturday. It was easy to sleep through, you didn’t need to do anything else.

Then it was Monday. And you had a reason to be mad again, even when your dream flashed back to that wonderful night in that private little nook. You were reminded that he told you to not come over for lunch, so you did the next best thing.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Oh, hi! We were told you wouldn’t come today?” Chan greeted.

“Well, nope, tah-dah! I’m here! So I’m just gonna make the quick lunch drop off, and I’ll be out of all your hair soon!”

“Okay, but, Mr. Choi is a bit on edge today. Just a fair warning.”

“I think I can handle my own boyfriend, buddy. Thank you.” You politely knocked on the door of the office, took a beat, and then entered, seeing that he didn’t even look up from his desk to see the intrusion.

“If it’s not the revisions I asked for, I don’t want it,” Seungcheol warned.

“No revisions, but I brought beef. Protein pack just the way you like it.”

He lifted his head, standing up and sighing. “I told you we couldn’t do lunch this week.”

“You did say that,” you began to retort, dropping the food at an end table, “but, I wanted to see you. After that weekend, we didn’t really get to talking, and I missed you.”

Taking a big risk, you began unzipping your jacket, slowly revealing what little you had underneath, parting to see the red lace that stood out against your skin. His face shot up, urging out of his chair and had him zipping up your jacket for you. “We are in the workplace. Not here,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“Then when, Cheol?” Your frustration bleeding through your voice. “You’re not giving me much to work with.”

He just needed to come right out and say it. There was nothing he could do except tell the truth. “Nothing can or will happen until the event happens next weekend.”

“You’re making me wait?”

“I need to focus,” he reiterated, “in addition to the lunches. I can’t have disruptions right now. I have no focus right now with you here.”

“Like I can? After all of that? I’m seeing that night in my dreams, Choi.”

He exhaled, seeing his words go through one ear and out the other for you. “There’s a really important project that came up, and we just need all hands and eyes on it right now.”

You whined. “But—“

“But nothing. End of discussion.” He left it at that and returned to his desk, hoping to get back to work.

“End of discussion?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

You stormed off to behind his desk, standing right at his shoulder, licking your molars and wondering where he got the nerve to say something like that to you of all people.

“You don’t get to silence me, I am not one of your subordinates, Choi Seungcheol. Whatever goes on around here is not my business, but what happened between us is entirely something else, starting with what happened that weekend.”

He got up from his chair a slam, causing you to jump, and the pen in his grip was crushed, denting the wood beneath his palm. He stared you down, his glare so venomous and cold you would have felt safer in the arctic wearing a bikini.

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think about how you preoccupy my thoughts every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day?” He leaned forward, his arms fencing you at your side as his hand gripped the edge of the desk, fingernails clawing into the paint. “If I had my way, I’d fucking throw all this shit out the window and spread you on my desk before making every wish and command that comes out of your mouth a reality until you’re begging me to stop.”

Fortunately for him, you didn’t have a rebuttal, wondering now if silence was still an option.

“Now get out, unless you want me to lose it on a stack of an 80 year old lady’s insurance papers.”

He got back in his seat, not looking as you swiftly made your exit out the office, not turning back, concerning eyes that heard the louder parts of the altercation regretfully watch as you left. Once you made it out of the building, your feet speedwalked for the cafe that you were all too familiar with, the one you’ve become a regular at, the one that knew you by name at this point as much as they knew Seungcheol.

Getting to the front of the line, you grabbed a clean, empty cup from behind the counter, startling the cashier who was seconds away from serving you. Before a single word was uttered from their end, with your whole chest and soul you started screaming into the cup, “FUCK, HE’S SO HOT. I NEED TO FUCK HIM SO BAD.”

You expelled a deep breath, letting the sinful demons escape your body and mind, and then turned to the barista with the same cup, handing it to them saying with the straightest face you could muster asking, “I’ll have an iced americano, please.”

“Sure, I’ll get you a new cup. You can keep that one.”

The weekend couldn't come any sooner, and you were growing irritated with every second of waiting. You tried busying yourself with work, considering you had put it off for the recent events as of late, but even when you started finding the momentum and get your groove back, you’d randomly have his flushed face pop in your head. The sounds of his bliss that left his lips as his hands touched your body.

Fuck.

You hadn’t gone this long without seeing, talking, or even hearing from him. The messages about the forged dates now dried up. As if fake dating felt more fulfilling than the real thing, if you could even consider it that.

You banged your head against a pillow, begging for the week to come by a little faster. And as a sign of good faith, your personal phone went off for the first time in weeks. You picked up, checking your notifications before lighting up, seeing that he's the one to message you last.

The message swiped up immediately, and you clutched your phone to see what he had sent you.

Cheol:🫰

“That’s it?” You threw your phone against your bed, gnashing your teeth before you started pouting alone by yourself, throwing a pillow over your face as you squealed into it, conflicted feelings for comfort and frustration battling it out within you as you knew you deserved more than a mere emoji but were happy that he thought to send you anything at all.

It was then the phone went off again and you quickly picked it up, seeing he sent another message.

Cheol: That was an accident. Sorry.

And your world was destroyed all over again. You squinted at the message, eye twitching, hands shaking. As far as you knew, Seungcheol was dead to you.

Then another message popped up immediately.

Cheol: It’s only one more day. You can wait that long and I know you’re going to ask how I know. I get your read receipts. I’ll see you soon. Good Night.

You frowned, holding the phone to your chest and falling back into bed, reading his last message over and over until your eyes were too tired to keep up.

You hate him for it, but sure, you’ll wait one more day.

The day officially arrived, and you woke up before your alarm clock went off. You leaped off the bed and checked your phone for any new messages, huffing to your dismay, but nonetheless, went off to start your day.

You had gotten some of your things ready to change, grabbing the makeup products you’ve selected from having used the previous free time you had to yourself to perfect the makeup routine, and now all you needed was your date.

A knock on the door had you rise to your feet and place a hand around a bat you kept for emergencies, being a single person household you never could be too careful. You approached carefully, the other hand holding your phone with speed dial ready, you looked through the peephole, and immediately melted at what you saw on the other end.

The bat and phone fell to the ground while the door swung open, and you stared back at the face of Seungcheol with a bouquet of flowers held to his chest. “It was my department’s idea. They thought you were mad at me for yelling the last time you were around and scolded me to get you something…though I had already planned on that from the beginning—”

You tugged him forward in a hug, the flowers held up to the side in order not to be squished upon impact, but he reciprocated, stroking your back with his full palm as he smiled into your hair.

“Were you going to assault me with a bat?”

“Not important right now.”

The flowers were left in a vase filled with water before you took the stuff you needed and left with him to his place, spending the day together to do whatever you wanted before getting ready.

But apparently, whatever you wanted came with limits.

“Careful, now,” Seungcheol warned, your body in his hands as he rested his back against his couch.

You grinned, combing through his dark hair in his rare form of misshapen and soft without product, smelling of soap and spice. “What’s one little quickie?”

“You want me to lose my virginity to a quickie?”

You jutted your bottom lip in a fuller pout, slotting your hands through a little rougher, “I’m surprised you care that much. I would think you’d ravish me by now.”

He softly chuckled, dropping the smile to intently stare at you looming over him, caressing your chin between his thumb and index. “I very well could, but with the time constraint we have, I can’t risk that.”

You scoffed, “The event is in 3 hours. You think you can outlast 3 hours? You sure are cocky.”

“I want to make it last a whole night, if I can. And who said I’m the one that has to outlast you?”

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, arousal pooling between your legs at the thought alone. You cried in anguish, feeling the burn of his smile as he gazed back at you tauntingly. “You’re such a tease. Why do you keep riling me up?”

“I’m just giving you a fair warning.”

You shook his shoulders frustratingly, “Stop, it’s hot…”

“I’m not the one in someone's lap right now.”

“You’re the one that pulled me on here! You want me so bad right now, admit it.”

“Of course, I want you, but you could’ve left anytime you wanted to. Your impetuosity will be your downfall one day. ”

You leaned in, pushing a long strand of hair behind his ear, “Fine, at least kiss me a little bit. How have we come this far and not even kissed?”

He thumbed over your lips, “Kissing is too tempting for you.”

“Are you sure you’re not projecting?” You grinned cheekily.

He grinned, letting his fingers fall on the pulse on your neck, accelerating at an alarming rate, “Maybe I am, but tell me right now you can kiss me without thinking about wanting to fuck me.”

“…Fuck!” You shoved yourself off his lap, his hands loosening his reins on your body before you stormed into the restroom with your things. “I hate you, I’m getting ready early!”

Since getting there, you’ve pretty much used every opportunity to infiltrate your—still to be determined—partner’s personal space, and for the most part, he’s welcomed it. He’s even encouraged it by initiating hugs from behind or welcoming you to the warmth of his lap on the couch, despite the fact that there were plenty of other places to sit. You both found that you enjoyed this game of cat and mouse, perhaps built over from the time apart, but you knew eventually tonight, you’d see the end of that tail because that mouse tonight would be yours.

However, for now, Seungcheol kept his healthy distance, while you kept yours. Besides the playful glances in the mirror, or the snarky remarks thrown behind a door or wall, you have seemed to have settled on a momentary truce for the sake of time management. He allowed you the privilege to hog the full-body mirror in his bedroom, which you could only assume was to check his body’s progress given the large tub of protein powder on the dresser beside it. And before either of you knew it, the minutes were ticking by, getting closer to the time of the charity event.

Seungcheol was just about finished, ready to set out for the evening. His suit was tailored to fit, his cufflinks were properly fastened, and his hair was properly waxed. Now all that was left was his date, hopefully finished getting ready in the neighboring bedroom.

“Time check. We have ten minutes and counting on the clock until we have to leave. Please...”

Hearing his voice beckoning from the bathroom, you readily spun from the mirror, standing before him with the reason why the remaining words that were meant to pass his lips were lodged down his throat. With the exception of sleeves draping past your shoulders, every inch of your body was wrapped in a rich plum that reached the floor, hugging your frame in a way the office manager couldn’t even imagine. The smug smile on your face reached your ears as you made your way to him in strides, glimpses of your legs peeking through the slit of the fabric before you stopped just a few feet away, covering the rest of you once again.

“I’m just about done. What do you think?” You asked curiously, hoping your efforts were well received.

He approached you in caution, intently circling you like a vulture until a final decision was made. “Denied.”

Your eyes shot back at him, spinning a bewildered 360 of the dress, not thinking rejection was possible with this appearance. “What?"

“You can’t wear that.”

“Why? At least give me a reason.”

He sighed. “You look good, that’s the problem.”

The ends of your mouth curled, crossing over your chest bashfully as you posed from the side playfully. “Are you worried people will look at me all night?”

Holding you by your shoulders, he led you towards the mirror, forcing yourself to face your own reflection as his shadowed behind yours. “People are gonna look at you regardless…The problem is that I will be looking at you all night.”

You let out pleased laughter before meeting eyes back in the mirror, seeing his hunger festering in his eyes as he gazed at you through the mirrored image. The digits of his hands pressed into your bare shoulders, releasing a chill down your spine. “What was that? About you saying that I’d ravish you?”

Your smile melted right off your face, recognizing that face immediately, but for the first time, he had it on entirely sober. His hands ran down your arms to settle on your hips. His lips beckoned closer the nape of your neck, hair standing as his warm breath ghosted your skin. “D-did I say that?” You asked anxiously, feeling the sensation migrate to the tip of your ears. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes, because you know very well I would, and I am just about three seconds away from exhibiting evidence that supports your hypothesis.”

Giving your waist one last squeeze, he slid his hands, palming over your breasts through your dress and locating your nipples as he ran his touch over them, catching your subtle jolt through the reflection. Catching them between his middle knuckles, he wedged them in a tight pinch, perking up as he cradled your breasts tauntingly in his hands.

“T-the risk, Cheol,” you managed to choke out through your gasps, throwing his words back at him, but your efforts were in vain. His smile briefly graced his face before pressing his gaping mouth on the side of your neck. His dark chuckles hummed against your neck as his half-lidded gaze stared back at you in the mirror intoxicatingly. You had never felt more glued to the ground.

“One…”

He gently kneaded them in his grasp, earning a soft gasp as he pressed his body against yours. The thick lining not doing justice to the body you knew he had underneath and that you craved to see just as much. Meanwhile, his enamel grazed the exposed skin on your neck before full lips pressed down, tasting your skin for the first time. The action caused his bulge to move on its own, twitching against your back, and had him so close to swallowing down his inhibitions to do whatever the hell he wanted.

“D-didn’t you say we’d be leaving soon?” You asked, whimpering. You nervously watched as one of his hands moved south to finger over the slit of your dress, subtly hinting what’s next on his mind.

“You weren't the only one between the two of us that struggled this past week. Maybe I should just forgo everything we have on our agenda tonight and stay here with you…two…”

His hand slid beneath the fabric finally and cupped over your heat. His middle finger tracing over your slit with your panties in the way as he sighed into your neck. He inhaled your perfume as he dragged his tongue across your skin, the slick sensation making you clench around nothing.

“Seungcheol, please…”

“Should I? Should I drop everything and better utilize my time tonight to ravish and fuck you like the monster you make me out to be?”

He pushed his digit lengthwise, wedging between your folds as he rubbed, pulling moans out of your throat. He pressed open mouth kissed on your neck as pressure was placed on your clit, his eyes following how you writhed under his touch, but showed no sign of protest. Even when you verbally conveyed doubt, your hand hovered over his that claimed your core and pushed him closer. Your pleading eyes begged for satisfaction as they stared at him through the mirror, the bottom lip caught between your teeth refusing to reveal your mutual lust, so he took action.

“...Three.”

His tongue landed a thick stripe before diving deeper into the crook of your neck whilst his digits reached past your panties, your moan echoing as it bounced off the walls in response, and he felt your pussy in its rawness as its juices coated him. He gasped into your skin, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip before attacking the opposite side of your neck. The hand that held your breast pinching you between his knuckles, teasing the shape in his hands and shallowly groaning in your neck.

He bent you forward, forcing your hands against the mirror as his fingers explored you deeper. From that point, you didn’t see a point in denying it, his fingers inside you meant that you were that much closer to the real thing. Your mewls flooded his ears, his impatience wearing thin, and it worsened as he learned how it felt when you clenched around him. He let out a guttural groan, digging his backside into you as your shared breaths fogged on the glass in the mirror, consuming you both with an insatiable appetite you could only satisfy together.

Meanwhile, you were doing mental gymnastics, knowing the charity event tonight in the back of your mind as the man worshipping you was at the forefront. You had responsibility as his date for tonight to make his appearance happen for the sake of his reputation, for the approval of his superior and because they would be expecting him. But it wasn’t until you stared into his eyes—the ones that fell in a haze of lust and desire for you that you realized succumbing to weakness was a lot more gratifying.

Then a loud alarm went off, vibrating in Seungcheol’s back pocket. All movement stopped, just as did your pleasure, and he removed his lips from your neck while using the hand once fondling your breast to retrieve his phone, sighing at the screen. He pulled away, much to your dismay, and there was not hiding the perplexity on your face as he reverted back to his default state. “I knew this would happen.”

“You set an alarm on your phone?!”

His hand once inside you glistened in your arousal was cleaned up in the matter seconds as he sucked them off clean, smiling back at you with his eyes before getting a quick wash in the sink. Hardly two seconds were spared to give you the time to be shocked that he ate you off his fingers. “There was a risk. I had to be equipped for every possible situation.”

“...You set an alarm on our foreplay knowing it would happen?!”

Instead of answering, he escorted you out of the house and into the car, despite your distress. He chuckled, helping you buckle your seat while you crossed your arms, kissing your cheek before honing his focus on the road. And thereafter, he felt your eyes burning a hole into the side of his head as your horny rumblings became his music throughout the drive. Most of it was incoherent with the exception of few ‘fuck’s or ‘mean tease,’ but as he took your hand in his, you both enveloped in a warmth silence, letting that moment set the mood for the rest of the evening.

Leading up to the steps of the building of the venue, you expected some level of extravagance, but the venue was to the level neither of you expected, impressing you both upon arrival. Entering, you’re welcomed with the smell of decadent food, old architecture, and wealth. Everywhere you looked, there was something new that’d catch your eye, leaving you in a state of perpetual fascination. Meanwhile, Seungcheol, with his elbow safely linked with yours, had only subtly skimmed the room, trying to find familiar faces and the host of this event.

They looked no further as the hosts themselves, Mr. Lee along with his beautiful wife, came from the sides to greet you both gregariously, welcoming you to enjoy the food, the live entertainment, and what else that was being offered while the night was young. You both thanked them, complimenting them on the choice in venue and told them you were looking forward to the rest of the night.

They bidded you a farewell as of then and continued to greet other guests, letting you pass through the threshold into the ballroom area, the heart of the entire building. It bustled with soft jazz and well dressed guests, all speaking to one another with a drink in one hand and passed appetizers in the other.

Before you could breathe another word, a tray of champagne flutes was shoved in your faces. “Champagne?” The waiter asked.

You plucked the flute right out of Seungcheol’s hands the moment he selected one and placed it back on the tray. “No, not tonight. Dry night,” you politely smiled at the waiter before they moved on to the next poor sap within distance.

You looked at your date, staring at him with a stern expression as he raised an eyebrow. “I did you a favor. Drinking will only impede on your efforts to abstain,” You said, mocking his tone of voice.

He gave you a smug grin. “Although you’re mocking me, I’m proud of you. Especially for knowing the word impede.”

In playful irritation, you licked the back of your molars before roughly tugging him along to the refreshment spread and with his dimpled grin hugging his cheeks as he trailed after you.

Throughout the night, Seungcheol saw faces new and old, getting as many names and business cards as he possibly could. Though he knew he was ready to leave as soon as he arrived, prepared with objectives and set of goals that would better him business wise. Nevertheless, he found himself enjoying other people’s company, but the reason for that was you.

You lit up the room, like you’ve lit up the last couple months you’ve seen each other. He pretended he didn’t notice it before and realized it’s something he wouldn’t be able to deny now. He hadn’t intended on gaining a new fear, he had no choice in the matter. Losing you was something he couldn’t put himself through again.

As a kid, Seungcheol had no control over his life. His parents had found out he had been getting distracted. Somehow, they learned he spent time outside of practice, in addition to skipping them, and with a girl nonetheless. They decided to nip the problem in the bud.

At some point, all of the competitions, all the pressure to please his parents and fit their mold, had made him believe that you–the person he had gotten the closest to–wanted to sabotage him and his accomplishments. He was told you were someone that would weaken him, that would dull his senses. An obstacle in the way of his true potential. He didn’t want to believe it, and initially he didn’t, until he took notice of the friendships you created outside taekwondo classes, how warm and familiar they looked, as if the one you two had wasn’t anything special. It made him angry, and he grew this animosity towards you. Suddenly, the words that were being shouted at him were starting to feel as if they had some truth.

At eleven years old, at the peak of hormones, when young Seungcheol saw you, he saw red and didn’t even want to speak with you. You tried your best to see his frustration and get through to him, but he had already gotten too far, or at least you thought he had. One day at practice, you found rocks in your shoes, rocks sharp enough to cut through skin. You screamed at what felt like an indescribable pain, forced to get stitches on the soles of your feet and avoid the ground for about a few weeks.

With the events that happened recently, all evidence pointed to Seungcheol, and although you didn’t want to believe it, who else could it have been? He was worried. Of course, he wouldn’t have done that, but then he heard you start pointing fingers. Now, he thought this was one of your tricks. One of those things you had set up to ruin him. Just like your presence fucked with his mind and caused him to be the weakest version himself to ever exist. And yet, he still cried for you, hoping that you were still okay.

But it turned out his parents just needed a little money and some help from a third party to accidentally drop a few loose rocks and spread some middle school gossip.

Eventually it all became too much. You were forced apart. Seungcheol’s parents moved him away, and your parents never let you do taekwondo again. And nothing ever tied you back together. Until a couple months ago.

He hadn’t learned that until years later until adulthood, just before he cut contact with his family. The anger he once had for you had evolved to guilt, and since forging the contract to fake date, he made a commitment to himself to keep you at arm’s length. He couldn't do that any more. Obviously. But not because he had an affinity for you.

You made him come to realize that everything goes according to plan, but not always on his plan. Whatever he had scheduled in his agenda, or was on his long lists of tasks, it didn’t matter. Timing had a way of steering your boat, often off course, and sometimes you just had to be along for the ride.

“We can’t leave yet!” You whispered, your giggles softly echoing from the walls.

“We’re not trying to leave,” Seungcheol softly retorted, dragging you in the darkness of a dark corridor, deprived of guests and warm lighting.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “Then, what are we doing?”

“I…wanted to get some privacy with my girlfriend.”

You melted, taking his hands in yours and swaying them gently in the air. “You’ve never called me that before. Not even when…you know.”

His hand brushed over your waist, pulling you towards him, gazing at you with tenderness in his eyes you couldn’t even fathom for words. “Amongst the lies, I didn’t want that to be one of them.”

You softly sighed, burying your head into his chest until he gently pulled you back by your cheeks, cupping to feel the heat of his palms fuse with the heat of your face. You were putty in his grasp, malleable to his touch, following his hands as he swayed you to the muted sounds of the music seeping out of the doors leading through the ballroom. Nothing could take you away from him. Part of you envied the fact that he was experiencing all these feelings, knowing it was his first, but you wondered if you had truly ever felt this way for anyone else.

“What are you doing to me, Choi Seungcheol?” You uttered in awe.

He let out a wistful sigh, a soft chuckle making past his lips. “I’ve been wanting to ask you that same question.”

He thumbed the side of your face, parting his mouth as you radiated back at him with anticipation, and slotting your lips between his. He held you with a gentle hand, holding you as if you were delicate enough to break if he wasn’t careful, languidly moving to your comfort, and warmth bloomed in his chest feeling you kiss him back. You threw your arms around his neck, deepening your lip lock as your heart tightened in your chest, the once ache and longing you’ve felt when reuniting with this man finally resolved by a chaste kiss.

As you reluctantly parted, you were overcome with tears, staring back at him with flushed cheeks and quickly his thumbs were placed under your tear ducts. His rounded eyes ran over you in concern, while holding your face for a clear inspection. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head reassuringly, gripping the lapels of his suit. “I liked it…I like you. I like you so, so much.”

He smiled relieved, kissing your forehead with his. “I like you,” he softly confessed, “yesterday, today, tomorrow, and always.”

Your smile broke out, and now you met him halfway, holding his body against you as you cherished his lips longer than the first and savored how they melted together effortlessly. Holding you by the waist and feeling you tangible under the heat of his palms, Seungcheol was in bliss knowing that every ounce of your entire being was his. He deepened his impression on you remembering that, and you returned the gesture. Gradually, the warm tenderness transitioned into a feverish rush, moving as if you were in a race with time.

The once sweet kiss festered to the extent of muffling moans when you suddenly tugged on his bottom lip with your mouth, tension coiling in an already aroused man’s stomach. That caused you to be backed against a wall, his torso pinning you down with his body flushed against yours as his tongue learned to trace the inside of your mouth. You held him by the back of his neck, carding your fingers impulsively through his styled hair, growing reckless and ignorant to your surroundings with only sex on your mind. And like minded, your boyfriend got bold sliding a hand through the slit and hooking a leg to his side. He took a full stroke down its length before it reached up your thigh and finally the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh in a tight grip and unearthing a whimper that was too late to suppress.

Your lips parted for a moment, giving him an accusatory glance before he quickly offered his snap rebuttal of, “I told you this dress would be a problem,” before closing the distance once again.

In the darkest part of that corridor, you shared an unforgettable moment, brimming it with as many kisses and intimate caresses as possible until it had to be cut short when Seungcheol quickly realized this vicinity was also on the way to one of the bathrooms if the other happened to be unavailable. Soon after, you both enjoyed the rest of the evening the best you could in the ballroom, doing your share of participating in charity bids and eating desserts that would later come out. The night went as smoothly as it could’ve and lasted a little longer into the night until guests were starting to leave, giving the strategic office manager an opening to make an exit as well. Then that's when the real festivities began.

You practically raced him to his front door, feeling him crash into you from behind with his lips against your neck as you barely passed through, put in the code, and let the automatic lock fulfill its purpose. Shoes were kicked off to who knows where as teeth clumsily clicked together, impatience setting you both ablaze. Seungcheol, hurling his jacket on the ground, claimed your face in one hand, squeezing the meat of your ass in the other through the slit of your dress and hiking it up to your waist.

“Fuck, this dress,” he grumbled, meeting your hips with his to feel the build up swelling in the crotch of his pants, emitting a moan from your lips as you clawed over his torso.

You fiddled over his buttons, undoing them and tossing the dress shirt aside and leaning against a wall and getting into the habit of swirling his tongue with yours as he crushed himself against your lips.

“You really had nothing to drink?” You joked, tracing over his abdomen to feel his tense under your palms.

“I wanted to be sober for this. Now how the fuck do you take this damn thing off?”

You gave a wide grin. “Zipper on the back.”

He flipped you over in an instant, your palms instantly pressed on the wall as he tried to find the zipper so seamlessly hidden in the garment work.

“Finally.” As he pulled it down, he left with another big surprise, one that he should’ve realized from the beginning if he hadn’t been so blind in lust. “I thought I felt something different when I touched you today, but the entire time, you had no bra.”

“You can’t wear one with this dress,” you justified. “And I saved you the rookie mistake of having to struggle with taking off the bra for the first time.”

“What makes you think it’s the first time?”

You snapped your head at him. “Did you—“

He chuckled, kissing you along your spine, “Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m entirely clueless. I think I’ve proven that more than enough.”

He reached underneath the dress to follow up your chest, feeling your breasts in both his hands as his index fingers stimulate your buds enough to perk. Landing a final kiss to the small of your back, he straightened back up, lips reaching your ear. “But don’t worry, I’ve never had to do that for anyone. I was just really excited to do it on you.”

His tongue flicked at your ear before biting, grinding himself against your ass that backed into his touch, earning him a mewl from the depths of your throat.

“I really can’t get you out of my head sometimes,” he admitted, letting the straps of the dress fall along with the weight of the rest of it. He let out a guttural groan at the reveal, teeth sinking into your shoulder to contain himself. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and coaxed him to flip you back over, leaving him to face your erect buds pointing back at him, the soft curves of your breasts, and almost every flushed, naked inch—with the small exception of your clothed, drenched heat—of your body.

“And now I never fucking will,” he griped, breathlessly.

“Cheol, please, I’m already so fucking wet,” you cried.

He held up a shaking hand and ran the other repeatedly through his hair in anguish, catching his breath as eyes running over you in clear bafflement. “I’m really trying to process everything I’m looking at right now, wow—fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

You sighed, feeling hotter the longer his eyes lingered on your body, but growing equally as agitated. “If you don’t do something right now—so help me, god—”

And right at that second, he was on his knees, fingertips at the top hem of your panties before pulling them down to your ankles as his eyes never left yours. His lips puckered, parting anxiously kissed up your shins, leaving a trail of migrating goosebumps. “Tell me what I should do, I’m not above being taught right from wrong.”

You covered your face with the back of your hand, hiding your diffidence, “F-from down there, are you crazy?”

His lips continued their worship, hands grasping at your thighs to spread them apart, leading up to your inner skin lightly covered in film of your overflowing arousal. To earn a wanton moan, his tongue ran a long stripe, dragging his bottom lip with him, before sucking the rest of you off clean. As the squelching reached your ears, tingling sensations dispersed throughout your hands and toes, furling your digits as your heels dug into the floor.

Your shallow gasps exited your body as pleasure entered, feeling him delve between your folds. Albeit, it reflected on the extent of his experience, but it showed promise, and as soon as he learned to follow directions, he proved just how much he was committed to learning the craft.

“Mmh, move a little higher.”

“Higher,” He raised his finger, “there?”

You chuckled, “Too high now, a smidge lower.”

“There?”

“Now it’s too low, again.” You grabbed him by the back of his head, stared back down at his pretty rounded eyes, before aligning his lips correctly in the smack middle, his mouth curling up at his target in relief. “Bingo.”

You’re scoffing at him, thinking he’s reacting as if he’s the one who uncovered the clit, until you felt him suck, striking you down with a ripples of shock as fire pooled and then exploded in your abdomen. The suction tensed your body before he reintroduced his tongue in sharp flicks, and you can’t help the strength you put into roughly yanking his hair, only for this manic laughter to vibrate up and your blooming core.

“Laughing?” You asked between clenched teeth, “while you’re driving me–ah–nuts?”

“Just happy this is a particular skill you can teach me,” He responded cheekily.

“You’re such a smartass.”

He raised a thick eyebrow before penetrating his tongue through your folds while his top lip grinded on your bud. Endlessly, his jaw hungrily worked into your pussy to the sound of your voice, noting how you would clench around his tongue, until he was tasting cum—your cum—in his mouth for the first time. Somehow, just the taste fueled the greed already instilled in him, his eyes blazed with a childish sense of mischief.

Now you were really wondering whether teaching him was a good idea if he was to learn this well that quickly.

Seungcheol tried making it upstairs, but with the way you were bruising his lips made him antsy, impatient, and plain fucking horny. He dropped you at the top of the steps, your bare ass kissing the cool laminated wood. “I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Cheol!” Your tits found his mouth, sucking and drawing circles with tongue as he single handedly tried unbuckling his pants kneeling on the steps. “The room—ah—it’s just right there!”

When the belt buckle broke free, he unlooped from his pants and threw it behind him, the clang of the metal and slap of leather descending down the steps. “I feel like I might explode if I’m not inside you right now,” he rasped.

You cupped his cheeks—seeing lust starting to cloud voice of reason—and tried to ease him in with a sweet smile. Soothing him with a calming voice, you reined in his attention. “Look at me. Do you have protection on you right now?”

He shook his head frantically, “It’s in the room.”

“As hot as it would be to do it right here, right now, we need that, okay? We just have to take a few more steps, and then you can do anything you want with me. Can you be a good boy and do that for me?”

Seungcheol froze, mouth agape, visibly absorbing the words that just left your lips, and you wondered if you had just killed the mood—or worse, his boner. You gulped, parting your lips to retract your statement if you needed to before he crashed his lips on yours. He pulled you between his teeth, sucking and devouring at your lips as the tent between his legs prodding at your thigh twitch incessantly. Swiftly, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his neck.

“I can be a good boy…I can be a real good boy…” he went and started bolting into the bedroom.

He dropped you on the bed, climbing on top of you and reclaiming your lips with ravenous need. As well an incline of sharp breaths, you heard him struggle getting his pants off, feeling the sweat of his skin adhere to the fabric as they chafed his thick thighs. “Gotta be fucking kidding–”

“Hey,” You softly whispered, caressing his cheeks hot to the touch. “Let me help you.”

You pushed him off the bed to land on his feet, sinking your knees into the mattress, and patiently pulled the leg of the pants off his thigh to his ankles one at a time. He loomed over you anxiously, his thighs tingling as your nails brushed against him, roaming up and breaching the fabric of his briefs. His breath hitched in his throat, his teeth clenched and jaw locked in place, as your eyes slowly met, sultry with the soft pout of your lips and gentle batting of your eyes.

You fingered at his waistband, stretching the elastic. “Do you want me to help with these too?”

His mind went blank, fuck. This is why he drank. He swallowed the confirmation that burned and died on his tongue before finally nodding, stroking the back of your head encouragingly. He pushed his bottom lip in his mouth to bite down, watching as you advanced towards him when suddenly your teeth made contact with his torso.

Eyes shooting at you to see the heady look in your eyes as your enamel scraped down his abdomen, letting goosebumps take real estate up his arms and legs, and bite down on the hem before you took a cheeky pull. You let out a soft laugh, the breath that came with it producing a violent lurch that joined you both a tad more closer, and your lips now found themselves kissing his abdomen as his size nuzzled under your chin. His mouth dropped, his groan melting into moans as his eyes stayed lecherously glued to you, managing to choke out, “Sorry.”

You softly hummed before continuing. Gradually you pulled back by the waistband, teeth inevitably grazing skin, lips lightly brushing over the shaft, until you finally unraveled him as he landed on your face with a flop.

The image could’ve put him in cardiac arrest; he wasn’t even sure if he was alive now.

“Oh gosh,” you cooed, watching the pink on his face turn a bright red. “No wonder you can’t control yourself. You’re huge. I’d be horny all the time too with this log in my pants.”

“I can make that happen.”

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden change in tune. “We’re calling your manufacturer to get rid of your humor setting.”

“So you think I’m funny?”

You took a beat. “What are you doing?”

“…I don’t know. My cock on your face is making me sound stupid. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism.”

With an airy laugh, you let his briefs fall to his ankles as the head of his cock ghosted over your mouth. Licking your lips, your tongue flicked at tip before leaving a small peck, leaving a titillating shiver run down his spine. “Then why don’t you close that pretty mouth and let mine take care of that for you?”

Without getting his answer, you descended to the base, tongue licking the underside of his shaft before you wrapped your lips and sucked on the head, and all with no hands. His nails dug into his thigh, deep white crescents forming as you bobbed deeper, your cheeks hugging tighter around his girth. A distraught sigh slipped past his firmly pressed lips as the sensation of your tongue swirling against his veins to taste his musk and engulf him in a slick, sweltering heat.

“You…you’re really…damn it,” he grunted, his hand claiming the back of your head as you’ve already reached half his length. “You’re…you’re really gonna take all of it?”

Enthralled with a sense of challenge, you batted your lashes and inhaled a sharp breath before your mouth sank down. Your cheeks hollowed, letting the pressure rub against the perimeter, gripping him in your mouth as the saliva that pooled eased him inside, and gradually got closer to his groin as you swallowed more. In turn, his grip grew tighter, gathering more of your hair to hold it high and out of way, your pretty face and swollen lips in clear view.

“Fuck…I’m…Why are you so good at this?” He softly whined before you’re just about over an inch away to reach his base, feel him hit the back of your throat.

You moaned with him inside your mouth, drool dripping along your chin, undulating him at an unforeseeable pace that he could only watch as he dipped deeper inside you. Your hand flattened against his abdomen, caressing and tracing over his form before clasping over his sides, digging your fingers in his torso to grip him before your lips reached the groin. You tightly shut your eyes, letting the cock squeeze down your throat, and you held him in place as tears collected in your eyes.

Seungcheol carried out a heavy groan, softly rocking his hips in your mouth when he felt himself twitch, bursting with arousal, and he couldn’t handle the pressure seeing the anguish on your face. As gently as he could, he pulled you right off him, ensuing them coughing, gagging, and gasping for air as his hands fell off your hair, cradling your cheeks in his hands as your makeup visibly streaked down your face. “Why would you hurt yourself like that?” he growled.

And despite the look of suffering, you smiled, kissing into his palm. “Because I wanted to feel you down my throat,” you answer plainly, as if it was the normal response in the world.

His cock softly perked, quickly shielded it in his hands before you took them away and held the cock up to your face once more. Your lips curved to the sides in a soft kiss, thumbing over a vein. “You never thought of me deep throating you before? I have.”

“I…I never considered the possibility, honestly,” he quietly admitted.

“Well, this time watch, and don’t stop me.”

You fisted him at his base, spitting on him and dropping a long translucent ribbon stretching from your lips before you welcomed him back in your mouth. He tried refraining his hands from seizing your efforts, unsure what to do with them until you took one and let it fall back on your hair, guiding him to push your head down to take control.

This was such foreign territory, he didn’t know what was good for him. He just found out sex—or the theory of it—felt good about a week ago. Before that, he’s only had about a handful of masturbation sessions, none of which were exceedingly successful and mediocre at best, and not without your help. Besides, he’s only ever thought about what would make you feel good, not himself, so it didn’t really matter. He just knew he didn’t think he could find the raw emotional and animalistic feelings he’s had for you in anyone else even if he tried. You put his head somewhere out of his own body and now, he needed to trust you, like you were trusting him.

He took your hair in his grip and watched you stretch his cock between your lips, getting closer to getting pulled over his entirety and hitting the back of your throat, only this time, he’d let you. As you inched closer to his groin, he found himself observing with bated breath, jaw fallen slack as his hips slowly rolled into your mouth, teetering to the edge of conquest.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He muffled his moans in his fists as you ran him in your mouth, gagging on him as you reached the final destination and let him plug your airways. The squelching and moisture burned his ears as you built tension in his cock, slobbering and making every second of suction worth the loss of oxygen. You dragged his torso, pulling him down until he had you lying flat on your back, wantonly sucking with sheer hunger and desperation like you’ve been wanting the past week since that Bach party until you had a Seungcheol cock shaped mold for a throat.

He couldn’t even hold himself back, towering over you as hands balled into the sheets and knees dug into the mattress. He buried his head into his duvet as his stomach clenched, letting the waves of his orgasm follow through his hips and shake as they took the form of thrusts into your mouth, combusting inside you helplessly and every ounce of ivory white squeezed down your throat, lumpy pumps visibly rolling beneath the skin of your neck.

“Fuck!”

He rolled off you, throwing a hand over his eyes and overcome in embarrassment as the red covered every inch of his body while white flooded your mouth and seeped past your impish smile.

“Why would you fucking do that? That's the last thing I wanted to do? Shit.” Seungcheol whined, burning his face in a pillow.

You crawled over him, chest to chest as you rested your forearms over his clavicle. “A little revenge for what you fucking did a little before we left for that event.”

“This was way worse. And I apologized.”

“No you didn’t!”

“Me getting on my knees was the apology.”

“You thoroughly enjoyed that.”

“A win-win,” he brought your head down to taste your lips, surprisingly not repulsed by the fact that his own organ and release has been inside you, even licking the bit of it from the corner of your lips. “So…in two minutes, can you let me put my dick inside you already—between your legs so we’re being clear?”

You laughed so hard, before pressing your cheek against his. “Yes. God, yes.”

“Nevermind, I can’t wait.”

He toppled over you, pressing his weight over you, nipping your ear before reaching into his bedside, grabbing something just out of view that you barely make out in the corner of your eye.

“The party favors from last week? You still have those? I thought we lost them.”

“Did you ever look at them?”

You shook your head, unsure. “Maybe a quick look before I threw it in the bag.”

He uncovered something shiny in colorful packaging and waved it over your face. Your eyes shot open in pleasant surprise. “Condoms. Flavored condoms. This has Eunbi written all over it.”

“There’s also flavored lube, sex dice, and a full can of whip cream for some reason. Everything else seemed normal,” he added with a question mark.

“Unfortunately, flavored condoms would’ve only been useful about a minute ago before you exploded inside my throat.”

He cleared his throat, tossing the colorful wrapping before holding on to something else shiny and familiar. “No worries. They also included unflavored. Trojan, your favorite.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you softly scoffed, before his mouth stole your voice, mingling your breaths.

“No,” he refuted in a breathy tone, “you are.”

His upper thigh nudged against your molten heat and let your wetness coat his lower body. He ripped open the wrapping out of view, carefully looking down to lift his torso and roll rubber over the length before smiling when you helped him secure it in place. Your eyes met, exacerbating that heat that felt as tangible as your intertwined bodies, as the key to putting it out laid stiff and snug in between.

Your hand combed through his hair, the fusion of sweat and spice wafting over you as your legs hooked against his sides. “Put it in me…”

His fingers caressed over your slit, feeling you soak his fingers. “You’re really wet,” he breathed, swooningly.

“And I can’t wait any longer.”

“Me neither.”

The curve of the head prodded at your entrance, rubbing against your slick folds before easing through your entrance and exhaling a deep breath of relief. You quelled a moan threatening to spill from your lips, clasping your hands over your neck as he cushioned the pressure with his mouth on yours. He felt your stiff peaks and the curves of your breasts softly rub against his chest, pressing his hand to your waist as your back arched closer to his touch.

Seungcheol’s soft groans heated your cheeks as his hips dipped deeper between your legs, pulsing in soft angled thrusts. The way you fluttered around his fingers earlier that day was what you were doing now around his cock, driving him up a wall, putting him through a fit of shakes, and he peppered frenzied kisses on your face in response.

“You drive me crazy,” he achingly whispered.

You moaned as his lips buried in your neck, mouthing over your throat as his teeth lightly grazed skin, feeling him fill you deeper with the submerge of every inch. “Cheol,” you quietly murmured, your eyes fluttered in and out of focus, “Fast, slow…whatever you want, I can take it.”

He moved sweaty strands of hair out of your way, “I want you to enjoy it too.”

“It’s you. You know I will,” you reassured before propping your legs on him and clamping down, slamming him against you to get the full taste of his arousal and hitting the hilt deep within you, earning a guttural groan unearthed from the depths of his throat. He thought he was starting to get used to your body, and sometimes not at all. Not when you do this.

“You’re…you’re so fucking impatient,” he hissed, clinging to you against in contrary to his tone.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, grinding up hungrily to grow friction between your clit on his groin, muffled whines being pulled out of you as Seungcheol dragged himself out to only plunge himself back in. Your teeth sunk into his shoulder, nails dug into his back. You held onto that sensation until he duplicated it again and again, leaving you slack-jawed as he turned one-two-three thrusts to an endless cycle.

“Cheol, oh my god,” you moaned, throwing your head back into the sheets, your digits furling and tension in your stomach coiling.

“Yes,” he managed to muster, clearing the messy hair away from your face, endeared by the way your legs twitched around his torso and how your eyes glisten with adoration that made him feel loved and made him never want his eyes to stray. “Tell me.”

“You’re making me feel so good,” you delicately cooed.

“Yeah?” He sweetly cupped your face, rolling his hips before taking a sharp thrust. “I feel good inside you?”

You nodded, your hand ran in his hair, wistfully staring back as you licked your lips. “In me so deep,” needy hips snapping back into him. “Fucking me so good.”

“Shit,” he moaned, clenching his abdomen in pride before his thrusts hastened. Eyes ripping open, you threw your head forward, your nails penetrated his forearms, you bellowed a carnal roar, startling him but not stopping him.

“That hurt?”

“No…More…” you growled in anguish, your appetite far from vanquished.

Your eyes rolled back as skin collided like cymbals, crashing and burning against one another loudly and hard. Everything around you started to fade out of view until it was just Seungcheol, who would stop at nothing to please you. And please you he did when your lips slotted together, tracing the shape of our mouth with tongues before you felt it peeking, teetering on the edge of its arrival, clawing at your door.

“I’m close,” you harshly whispered, “Fuck, I’m so close.”

He was smart, he took the hint. “Keep going? Or go faster?”

“…faster?”

“Okay.”

“Wai—ah-ahh—“

You squeezed around him, tightening every limb as it clung to every part of him as he rammed into you, somehow still rock hard, and with energy left to give it to you harder. You felt every inch of him in that moment of ecstasy. His girth stretched your walls, his length hollowing you out until you’re nothing without him and you might as well be, and your tongue sinfully on stuck his name as it branded you.

“I’m cumming, Seungcheol! I'm cumming!”

Your stomach would tense, his name coming out as a sound of anguish, plead, elation. You latched on to him, holding on as your release may adhere to him, spilling on him and only him as you shook, trembling before he reclaimed your lips, his distraction soothing and easing your mind.

“Hey,” he softly muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “You okay?”

“More than that,” you quietly answered, with a growing grin.

“You…kinda lost it there.”

You rolled your eyes, swiveling your head away from him. “Oh, shut up.”

He grinned before landing on his back beside, quickly disposing of the condom just out of view.

“You’re way worse than me,” he pointed out, making you slap him on the chest.

“Enough.”

But he didn’t seem to think so. “So, that’s what nymphomania is like firsthand.”

“Okay, you wanna have a go? I have energy for a fight, I can still fight, you know,” he pulled you towards him, holding your arms in place and feeling you writhe in his grip.

“That's alright. I don’t mind, as long as I’m on the other end of it.”

For a while, it’s silence and just each other's presence. You both laid side by side, your sweat and fatigue just hanging in the air for you both to bask in. You nuzzled up to him closer, feeling him turn to his side to face you, and your eyes lock as they always do: with a strike of electricity right through them.

“You’re so pretty,” he complimented softly, gently touching your face, the heat blooming rapidly between his fingers.

“And you’re so…hot. Shit.” You laid back down flat, your cheeks and ears burning in clarity.

He looked over you, eyebrow ascending in puzzlement before chuckling and retrieving you. “Is my sexual appeal frustrating to you?”

You groaned. “You’re so annoying. Had to be you of all people, oh my god,” you exasperatedly grumbled.

He spun you back to face him, his smile the most annoyingly handsome thing about him. “I would hope it’s me, because for me it’s only you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to look. I know you’re who I want.”

“…Fuck!” You shouted from the top of your lungs before crashing your lips onto his, revving your engines and reigniting the fire kindling in your stomach that had only been briefly subdued.

Even at all hours of the night, when you lost track of time, you never got tired of that face. Flushed, elated as he faced you, swollen mouths meeting harmoniously, as your bodies fit together and you claimed his lap. His length plunged inside as you sank down on him, colliding against the muscles of his thigh as your walls fluttered around his cock to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your arms looped securely around his neck as one of his arms tucked over your back closed and teased a bouncing, lively breast with the other.

“Like that please,” you pleaded, breathlessly.

“That good?” He asked, moving his hand to the meat of your ass, undulating you towards him. “Do you like that?”

You nodded, every nerve in your body restless as he stimulated every possible sense you had, making you reel with pleasure. “Fuck yes, like that, shit.”

He whimpered as your thighs squeezed around him, bowing his head to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking and swirling until you squealed uncontrollably, dragging your hips with the force of his hands for better control.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he gritted before planting his shins on the mattress, lifting his ass and groin up before thrusting up into with accelerated strength and speed.

You let out a large gasp before that familiar growl, clinging to him before your nails pierced and clawed his back muscle, feeling him reach there depths that have only led to happy endings. “Fuck, cheol!”

“Shit, what I wouldn’t do for you…for your pretty face, pretty eyes, pretty voice, pretty hair—fuck, it makes me want to put my cum in you!” Tension rising in his legs as he thrusted harder, anything you once saw in front of you was gone when your vision had disappeared to the back of your mind.

“Mmmh, that’s so good, don’t fucking stop!” You raggedly cried.

His hands splayed over the curve of your ass, squeezed and bounced you on him deeper while sucking and running his tongue over your tits as if he was starved. Nothing could pry either of you off each other, and the noises that culminated and bleed through the walls of Seungcheol’s home were enough loud deafening proof of that.

Each stroke, each thrust, each mind numbing orgasm–if a round led to one at all and most of the time it did–seemed as if it was better than the last. Seungcheol was right to assumed he’d make it last the whole night, because by the time they had been too tired to continue, birds were chirping out the window, but at least you both had finally gotten some rest.

“So what now?”

He chuckled at the sudden question in the middle of your morning snuggle, feeling your warm embrace after an estimated four to five hours of sleep. Not ideal in terms of recommended amount of sleep for a healthy adult, but enough. “You’re asking me?”

“Well, we’ve been ‘dating’ in the eyes of everyone for the last 2 to 3 months, but some things are gonna look a little different now, I’m guessing. So what now?”

He pulled you closer, kissing your forehead with his. “People mind their business, and we enjoy it.”

“We enjoy it,” you repeated, rather liking the sound of that.

And he nodded, and you smiled knowing the answer was perfect just as is and anyone who questioned had their own problems to deal with.

“Can I still visit your office sometimes?”

He softly scoffed, parting your hair tenderly. “You can do whatever you want. They obviously love you a lot more than they like me.”

You smiled mischievously, climbing on top of his lap, and kissing the top of his nose. “Good, I get to keep you all to myself.”

He raised a playful brow, letting out a sigh of realization. “So, you’re that kind of girlfriend.”

You lightly punched him in the arm, but he caught your fist in his hand, unfurling your fingers to interlock with his, flustering you with his touch as he scooted closer, straightening your joined bodies against the bed frame.

“I like it. I won’t have anything to worry about. Except. Maybe, what I'll have to worry about is how I’ll get anything done when I’m kissing you,” he said with a kiss, “Touching you,” he said with a caress to your backside and pebbling your skin, drowning you in a mellow and decadent voice, “and making sweet, sweet love to you.”

And there went the little rest you had and the rest of your weekend.

Eventually, weekends had to end and Mondays came around again. Seungcheol started to understand why people hated them so much. Workdays and long hours at work meant he had less time for you and making up for time they’ve lost in the week they’ve lost with the stress of the project. However, that was over now. He could go back to his regularly scheduled programming. And now, he knew not to take a good thing like you for granted and with a lighter workload, his work and life balance seemed more manageable.

“Mr. Choi isn’t back yet?” Minghao asked, seeing an empty office.

Chan perked up from behind his cubicle, shaking his head. “He's still out on his lunch date with his girlfriend. Somewhere special, I heard.”

Jeonghan winced in disagreement, smirking, “Are they really out? I could’ve sworn I saw his car still in the parking garage in his spot.”

Chan shrugged, walking around with an imaginary question mark above his head as he launched his crumbled up take out bag into a disposal bin and missing before hurrying along to properly throw it away. “Maybe they took a cab.”

Joshua pretended to ponder, swiveling his chair to the center of the office floor, “Or…”

They flocked to him, ear in first, eyes all rounded in interest as they anticipated the words that would come next out of their colleague’s mouths. Joshua rubbed his fingers curiously, conspiracy on his mind as he closed his hands around his mouth in secrecy, a hushed tone coming out the other end. “Maybe, they’re doing something not safe for work on the company's dime. Right. Now.”

“Ey,” Seokmin scolded, “It’s Mr. Choi, we're talking about Choi Seungcheol. As loving as a partner I’m sure he is, he’s responsible enough to avoid those kinds of situations. It’s probably traffic or something.”

Mumbling in agreement, everyone fell closer in line with Seokmin’s theory and resumed work. Meanwhile, Jeonghan nudged Joshua, who had been his cubicle neighbor and work friend for the better half of three years. “I don’t think you’re far off, but the chances of him doing something that scandalous are slim to none. Before his current girlfriend, I hadn’t even seen him speak to a woman.”

“I guess so,” Joshua sighed, unsure of his theory now. “I wonder what they’re really doing then.”

As the working men of VENTE Co. consumed their hours with gossip and the usual run of the mill office antics that would help keep them awake, a certain office manager was consumed with something else in the darkness of the VENTE Co. parking garage. As his hands lost themselves in the heat of the weight toppling on top of him, at the same time they were persistent in pushing him off, failing as the slickness of their previous ventures on the front seat of his sport sedan.

He’d mumble the same three words without fail, etching them into your skin, deeply inhaling your lingering matter in the midst of your blended breaths. “Five more minutes.”

Suffocated in the compartmentalized space of the vehicle, you gently shoved the hands off of your boyfriend, sweat beading down your forehead and chest as he tried to undo the buttons you had redone with his lips latched on your neck. “You have work!” You moaned in a mix of frustration and residual arousal.

“You don’t,” he whined softly.

You groaned, “Yes, I do. With projects, clients, meetings, just like you.”

“Then what do you do?” He started to argue, irritability singeing on his tongue, “All this time you’ve said you worked when I have no idea what.”

You sighed and rested your hand on his shoulders. You met eyes and tried to focus with his hair disheveled, his dress shirt half done, a massive tent in his pants, and a sliver of firm pectoral muscle lightly layered in perspiration calling out to you like a siren to a sailor at sea. Finally, a resigned expression graced your face, at last willing to tell him your job that had to be the most lucrative, but boring quality about yourself, that you’ve always had to explain to your dates, twice, what exactly it is you did. Then again, this was Seungcheol. If anyone understood what you did for work, it’d be him.

“I’m a freelance Business Management Consultant overseeing a few startups. Some you’ve maybe have heard before and one maybe…that recently entered in the Fortune 500.”

“…That is so fucking sexy and makes so much sense.” He hurriedly started unbuttoning your shirt again, burying his face in the valley of your tits, “Ten minutes!”

“Cheol, please!”

“Ok, 5 minutes.” You rolled your eyes as you pushed his back, and pinning him against his seat as he frowned and lightly flailed his arms, lips puffing to swell in a frustrated pout before whining, “Come on!”

“Are you…pouting?”

He blinked, taken aback by your question until he glanced himself in the front view mirror before pointing at his face. “Is that what it’s called?”

You squished his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his face burn your palms and between your fingers as it spread throughout your body. Suddenly, you’ve been thrown into a proprietary state of being, clinging on to him and the image of this rare distortion of his features until you can make him do an expression like it again. “You do that for no one but me.”

Despite the confusion that passed through him, he nodded, only puffing his lip bigger as a result as his hands crept slyly around your bare frame, feeling the goosebumps that he raised in his trail.

“Five more minutes,” you agreed, before crashing lips with him again, making his lunch break even longer than expected.

That was the first of a handful of incidents, but the most memorable of the bunch, at least for everyone below Seungcheol. To this day, the office commemorates it as “The day no one knew why Mr. Choi was taking his lunch break for so long.” That had started a flurry of new rumors going around the building, and honestly, Seungcheol liked these ones better.

Post Author's Note: i put so much time and love into this and it's one of the first things I'm posting this year but so far it's my favorite thing I'm posting this year?? It definitely isn't the last don't worry there's plenty more, idk if it's up to this caliber but it'll always be written with love. So, feedback is much appreciated and I want to thank you guys, the readers, for taking the time to read this monstrosity that took me the moon, a pot of gold, and my sanity to write. Anyone that's been here throughout this journey with me on this site, I give you my whole heart, seriously.

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