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inmaki · 1 year ago

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number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

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imaginedisish · 6 months ago

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I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him.

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction.

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett.

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him.

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands.

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more.

God, you are so fucked.

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed.

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you.

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room.

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean.

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag.

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack.

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to.

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip.

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now.

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt.

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him.

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink.

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open.

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now.

He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you.

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means.

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself.

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.”

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in.

“It’s more than that,” you admit.

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence.

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out.

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours.

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him.

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.”

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head.

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly.

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say.

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away.

“Please,” you beg again.

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side.

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fuck me, please.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you.

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine.

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again.

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for.

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out.

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak.

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge.

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers.

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue.

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter.

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest.

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles.

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire.

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses.

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster.

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.”

Always.

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you.

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too.

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted.

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.”

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up.

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them.

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then.

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing.

“I meant it, too.”

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

#logan howlett x reader #James Logan howlett x reader #Logan howlett smut #Logan howlett x reader smut #Logan howlett x you #Logan howlett x you smut #James Logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine smut #Logan howlett x reader one bed #wolverine x reader one bed

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gravegoer · 2 months ago

Text

Take a hint. ୨୧

sevika x oblivious!reader ♡ PART 1 [feel free to send requests, asks etc! i respond to everything :) + i defo need to make a badass reader x sevika to make up 4 this

PART 2 HERE , masterlist here

• How could you have possibly made it this far all by your lonesome in the undercity?? Almost oblivious to anyones advances, threats etc. Your last minute judgement has to have come in clutch many times.

• Having said that; obviously sevika is going to raise an eyebrow as you walk past her,

• She sat in her booth, playing a game of poker with two conspicuous-looking men (to say the least.) A cigarillo hung from her thick lips and smoke puffed out of her nose as she glanced up.

• A man follows you (cocky fella) spewing nonsense about how he so badly wanted to get to know you and how "you should come grab a drink with me, all on my tab sweetheart."

• She shook her head; this didn't snag her attention, as the man was a regular, always harassing the prettiest woman he could find at the bar. What did snag her attention was your response.

• "Oh...sure! Why not ?" You laughed, undoubtedly carefree and unaware of the man's advances. Now, this THIS is what made her lips curl downward into a sneer.

• How could someone be so stupid. Seriously. What part about this guy didnt scream "creep." Were there not flashing red lights going off in your head telling you to turn the other way and make a run for it?

•Although this wasnt normally the kind of thing she bothered to pay attention to she continued to keep an eye on you as you walked toward the bar with him.

• However, the game of cards draws her attention away from the two of you. The man to her right groans at her card selection before shuffling through his.

• This was going to be another easy cash night, huh? She thought, her eyes wandering back to where you sat. The man next to you is now a bit too close for comfort.

• "I dont see you 'round here often missy" The man drawls, smirking at you. His fingers traced the rim of your glass slowly, barely missing your fingertips.

• "Yeah im...im not around here often.. tonight jus- " You were cut off by his hand on yours.

• "A pretty lady shouldnt be out at night all by 'er self, who knows what might snag 'er up, yeah?" His grip on yours was just a bit too tight.

• "Thats true..I was going to head home soon anyways. Thank you for your concern." You half smiled at him, now feeling the uncomfortable tension between you.

• The man took your smile as a green light to do whatever the fuck he wants and he leans in closer to your face. Before he can even bring his lips within the radius of your face the slam of metal separates you two.

• A mechanical device whirrs between you, parts clanking and activating: acting as a barrier. Your drink spills onto the floor, just narrowly missing your leg.

• You look up to see the weilder of said device glaring straight foward, not looking at either of you. Although her lips settle into a tight line; disdain etched into her (quite stunning) features. You could feel the heat of her body just inches away from yours.

• "Um...were we in your way-" You are cut off by her unexpectedly deep angry tone.

• "Lance, get the fuck out of here." She spat, now turning her head to look at him. Ah so thats his name.

• Her body was turned to face yours, her large frame mostly blocked your view from Lance, but it was pretty obvious he up and left without a word of retaliation.

• You eyed her questioningly scanning her lean (buff) frame.

• "You dont know a man thats trying to get in your pants when you see one?" She spoke firmly, turning her head to you.

• "I dont think he was.." You recalled all the events in the past five minutes and sighed internally "Mmfuck"

• Sevika took a draw of her cigar, watching you piece everything together, "So you really are stupid? I thought you were playing dumb." She scoffed.

• She couldn't lie. You were beautiful. It's a shame that all the men in the bar have probably eyed you at least once since you walked in. This thought made her lips twitch downward.

• "Bartender," Her voice booms "Get her another whiskey."

• Sevika ordering for a woman?? Absolutely unheard of. She means buisness. The bartender quickly grabs your drink offering a smile (that looked more out of fear than anything else) to Sevika.

• All the regulars know she only comes to the bar to either: A) Gamble B) Drink or C) beat someones ass. And despite her rough demeanor her actions were uncharacteristically...nice?

• "Thank you," You smiled up at her "I need to get better at that kind of thing"

• She slid into the barstool next to yours, where Lance had previously sat. "Is this your first time in the undercity? If not im suprised you havent been killed yet"

• Her question went unanswered as you watched the spread of her legs when she sat down, she has thick; definitely toned thighs. You swear you can see the muscle even with her pants on. Your eyes travel upward to look at her ever so slightly visible abs-

• "Hey, do you have nothing going on up there?" She sneered at you, now getting up from her stool. She was quickly irritated.

• "Im sorry, but you're gorgeous. Whats your name?" You ask, catching her gaze as she stood.

• She makes an incredulous expression for a second before going stone faced again "Be careful with what you say to strangers"

• Your drink arrives and she nods her head towards it before walking away, not leaving any room for you to thank her.

• Right as you're about to stare at her confident walk back to her booth a voice interrupted your thoughts, "Thats Sevika, Silcos second hand man." The bartender spoke.

• He knew you werent new, you had been coming for several years, but only casually. The only reason you stook out to him was because of you're genuine kindness when you spoke to him, not demeaning or demanding drinks.

• In return he usually warded off the men and women trying to snag you up and take you home.

• At his words you turned to look at her, but she was already staring back at you. Her gaze dark and almost hungry. You shivered at that, breaking eyecontact first.

• You didn't feel like drinking any longer, aching for the warmth of your home. You took a sip of whiskey and waved at the bartender before hopping off your stool to start towards the exit.

• You passed Sevikas booth on your way out, the men at her table eyed you and one wolf whistled loudly.

• Sevikas' eye twitched as she waited for you to exit the vicinity. She made note of the bell ring when you opened and closed the door to the bar.

• She wasted absolutely no time to jump on the man who wolf whistled, grabbing him by the collar and delivering an unforgiving punch to his face with her mechanical arm.

You definitely would be meeting again.

short authors note :) this is my first fic in FOUR YEARS so be patient with me guys ... anywho.. PLEASSEE send asks im begging, i crave to write right now. Im mainly writing for sevika and female characters ! But ill do anyone. ask me about fandoms ! (im in many) and ill write for basically any ask me for part 2 !! KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY APPRECIATED

comment to be added to my taglist :)

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munsonsmixtapes · 6 months ago

Text

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x fem!reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x you #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fluff

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hoshifighting · 19 days ago

Text

Salt, Sugar and Everything Us

Synopsis: What do you get when the guy who literally threw salt in your dessert during a Michelin star competition 11 years ago, waltzes up to the door of your NGO like he didn’t ruin your entire life plan back in the day?

WC: 22k

WARNINGS: jihoon and children to heal our souls <3, angst, fluff, references to professional betrayal and its lingering effects, throwing up due to emotional discomfort, moments that may bring up past trauma especially related to rejection or failure, power imbalance.

SMUT WARNINGS: explicit language, penetrative sex, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, semi-public setting, mutual desperation, body fluids (cum)

Manoir = Mansion in french.

NGO = Nonprofit organization that operates independently of any government.

Monsieur = Sir

— // December 2013 // —

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the bright lights overhead, your heart pounding so hard you swear it’s echoing off the marble countertops. The smell of sugar and chocolate floats in the air. You glance over at Jihoon, who’s methodically working on his plate. There’s no denying the guy’s a genius, but damn, does he have to be such an ass about it?

You flash him a shy smile—just a small one. Yeah, it’s a competition, and yeah, only one of you is gonna win and run the four Michelin-star restaurant in Switzerland—the prize of the contest. But like, after this, you’ll still all be chefs. You’ll still work together. You’d all end up in the same world soon enough, working in the same circles, maybe even crossing paths in some fancy kitchen.

Nothing. He doesn’t even look your way.

Fred, the tutor-slash-guardian angel for this trip, the one who dragged you halfway across the world to this kitchen in Europe, warned you. “Jihoon’s tutor hates you,” he had said, voice low like he was telling you some big secret. “It’s ‘cause you’re the only one who can match him. Maybe even beat him.” He had laughed, but it didn’t feel like a joke.

You shake your head and focus on your dessert. Your mousse sits on the plate, the top glistening perfectly under the lights, just the right amount of shine. The swirl of raspberry coulis looks like something out of a cooking magazine. You’re proud of it. Hell, you’re damn proud of it. You step back to admire it, and even the renowned chef standing in front of you—some big-shot Michelin-star guy whose name you can’t even pronounce—gives you a smile. But not a friendly one. More like a don’t get too cocky kind of smile.

And then he tastes it.

His face shifts so fast, your stomach drops. One second, he’s blank, and the next, he’s frowning, like really frowning, staring down at the plate like it face-to-face harmed him. He spits it out, not dramatically, just like he doesn’t wanna cause a scene. The whole kitchen goes quiet. Even the sound of knives chopping stops. You feel the heat crawling up your neck, spreading across your cheeks.

This can’t be happening.

“Did you taste this before serving it?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

Your throat is dry. You swallow, shaking your head slowly. “Uh… no, I—”

“Taste it,” he snaps, holding the spoon out toward you.

Your hands shake as you take the spoon, and before you can think twice, you taste it. The second it hits your tongue, you freeze.

Salt. Way too much salt.

It’s fucking disgusting.

You almost gag, but you force yourself to swallow, blinking fast as your brain tries to process what the hell just happened.

You glance over at Jihoon. He’s standing there, completely expressionless, not even pretending to be interested in the drama unfolding. But you remember. You remember when you left the mousse to rest, just for a minute, and Jihoon had passed by your station. Just a quick brush past, nothing suspicious. Nothing out of place.

Except now, all you can taste is salt.

The chef crosses his arms, still staring at you like he’s waiting for an explanation. You open your mouth, but no words come out. What are you supposed to say? That Jihoon sabotaged your dessert? That you think he did? You glance at him again, and for a split second, his eyes meet yours, and there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Just enough for you to see, before it’s gone.

“Do you have anything to say?” the chef asks, his tone icy.

You swallow again, shaking your head. “No, chef.”

This is it. The final round. Eliminatory. And you’re standing here with a plate of salted mousse because you trusted the wrong person for one damn second. You close your eyes for a brief moment, taking in a breath. You can feel the tension rolling off everyone in the room, and it takes everything in you not to scream.

You watch the chef walk over to Jihoon’s station, his expression already softening. Jihoon’s smiling now—this smug, self-assured grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t just screwed you over minutes ago. His dessert does look good, though. Annoyingly good. Neat, precise, and probably just sweet enough to charm the hell out of the chef.

The chef takes a bite, nodding as if Jihoon’s dessert just confirmed every expectation. Then, just like that, he moves on, walking away without a second glance at you.

[...]

“Y/N, you’re eliminated. Please leave your apron on the station.”

The words slam into you like a punch, and your stomach twists. You don’t even know how you manage to stay upright, every muscle screaming at you to just collapse. You hear the gasps from the others behind you—your friends, competitors, but friends nonetheless—just as shocked as you are.

“What the fuck?” someone mutters.

“There’s no way…” another voice says, incredulous.

You don’t even turn around. You can’t. Instead, you glance at Fred in the back, your lifeline in this whole chaotic mess. He’s shaking his head, this look of defeat in his eyes that he’s trying so hard to hide. Like even he knew it was over the second Jihoon pulled that bullshit with your dessert.

Fred mouths, That’s it. Let’s go. But his sad eyes tell you everything you need to know. It wasn’t fair. And he knew it. You both knew it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force yourself to walk up to the chef. Your hands are shaking, and you clench your fists, trying to keep it together as you shake his hand. He’s stiff, formal, but you can’t help but notice the faint hint of pity in his eyes.

You avoid it.

When you turn back to your station, the weight of the moment crashes down on you. The stupid fucking apron you worked so hard to wear now feels like it’s burning a hole in your chest. As you reach up to untie it, your chin starts to quiver. You fight it—God, you fight it so hard—but the tears are already pooling in your eyes. This is it. The dream…gone.

Because of salt. Fucking salt.

You fold the apron, mechanical, like maybe if you take your time, this won’t feel so real. But it is. The apron sits on the counter in front of you, this symbol of everything you’ve lost, and you walk away before anyone can see you break.

As soon as you’re backstage, the tears come. Hot and heavy, spilling down your cheeks as you crumble into the arms of one of the friends you’d made here. They’re hugging you tight, whispering things like, “It’s not fair, you didn’t deserve this,” and “You were so close.” Their voice cracks too, sad that they didn’t win either, but it’s different for them. They weren’t robbed. They were sure you had it in the bag.

And then, after what feels like hours, you spot Jihoon again, his face glowing under the lights, a damn set of keys in his hand. The keys to the restaurant. Your restaurant. It should’ve been yours.

You blink through your tears, watching as he basks in the victory. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can take this sting away. This moment is etched into your brain, and you’re certain you’ll never forget it. No matter how much time passes, nothing will make you recover from this.

Leaving Europe had felt like defeat. It wasn’t just a loss on some cooking show—it was like watching a dream you’d nurtured since you were a kid slowly crumple and fade. Back then, you were so young, so full of ambition that your heart couldn’t even contain it all. Every time you thought of that moment, standing in that bright, sterile kitchen as Jihoon held those damn restaurant keys, it was like hearing your inner child sobbing hurtfully inside your eardrums. And that hurt more than you ever expected.

For the longest time, it felt like nothing could fill the void that salty mousse had left behind.

— // A decade later // —

But life has this weird way of surprising you when you least expect it. Turns out, there were plans far better than Michelin stars waiting for you. Plans you never even imagined, but ones that would heal you in ways a fancy restaurant never could.

It’s the little hands tugging at your apron now that remind you of just how far you’ve come. You’re not standing in some high-end kitchen with a sous-chef barking orders at you, or sweating over the chance to impress another judge. No, you’re standing in a small room, the walls plastered with drawings and messy crayon sketches of cupcakes, pizza slices, and lopsided bowls of spaghetti. Your apron’s a little stained, flour dusting the front of it, but you couldn’t care less.

“Why do you mix it like that?” A curious voice pipes up from below, and you glance down to find a pair of wide, sparkling eyes staring up at you. The flour and eggs in the bowl swirl together under your whisk, creating a soft, smooth batter. The kid—couldn’t be more than six—watches your hands like you’re performing magic.

“Because that’s how you make it fluffy,” you say, smiling as they nod, fascinated. A moment later, you feel tiny arms wrap around your leg, a small hug that makes your heart swell in ways that no standing ovation ever could. It’s innocent, pure, like they’re just happy to be near you, to learn from you.

Another voice chimes in, “How do you know when it’s ready?”

You chuckle, wiping a bit of flour from your forehead with your wrist. “You just know. It feels right.”

They tilt their head, brow furrowing like you’ve just told them some impossible riddle. You laugh softly and let them feel the batter between their fingers, watch as they giggle, amazed at how something so simple can be so right. There’s something about these moments, the curiosity in their eyes, the way they look at you with trust, like you’re some kind of culinary wizard. You weren’t Jihoon with his restaurant keys, and honestly, that’s never been more okay.

Because in these moments, surrounded by kids full of wonder, asking question after question, you realize that no Michelin star could pay for this feeling. There’s a joy here that runs deeper than prestige or recognition. A joy that healed something broken in you.

Your inner child, the one who cried in that cold European kitchen all those years ago, quieted here. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was laughing, learning how to mix flour with eggs, feeling the batter with her hands, like it was something new and wonderful. All those tears you shed for a dream that wasn’t meant for you? They were worth it, because they brought you here—to this.

It’s funny, really. Back then, you thought that only a shining career could fill the emptiness left behind by that loss. But here you are, standing in a room full of kids who look up to you like you’re a hero. And that? That’s priceless.

You’d started this nonprofit, an NGO for kids who didn’t have much, but who had the biggest imaginations you’d ever seen. You taught them to cook, sure, but it wasn’t just about food. It was about creating something with their hands, feeling proud of themselves, and finding a space to be themselves in a world that often made them feel small. Just like how you’d once felt—small, unworthy, like a failure. But now, every smile, every curious question they asked, it stitched up another tear in your heart.

It’s poetic, really. You thought you’d heal by chasing after the dream that slipped through your fingers in that European kitchen. But instead, you found healing in the hands of children, in their endless curiosity, in the way they saw the world full of possibilities. And in doing so, you healed the child inside of you—the one who had dreamed big but didn’t know how to handle disappointment when the dream didn’t come true.

Good things, they say, come to those who wait. And yeah, after everything you’d been through, you could finally see it—really see it. Your name, once tied to that one bitter loss back in 2013, now stood on its own, bold and bright in the culinary world. You weren’t just the kid who lost in Europe anymore. You were someone people sought after, someone who made a difference. The buzz around your NGO had grown so much that, by now, it felt like a new interview request hit your inbox every other day.

It was the fifth time this week you sat down for one.

"Tell us about your journey,” the interviewer smiled, setting the recorder between you both like they were about to hear some untold story. But by now, the story of your journey had become almost second nature. You leaned back in your chair, looking around the space—the walls adorned with photos of smiling kids, famous chefs who had come through your doors, all here to support the cause. This place, this NGO, had become something bigger than you ever imagined.

“Well," you started, a small smile tugging at your lips, “I guess it started with failure.”

That’s how you always began. Not shying away from what happened all those years ago but embracing it, wearing it like a badge of honor. Because, hell, if it hadn’t been for that loss, none of this would exist. Not the kitchen full of kids eager to learn. Not the world-class chefs flying in from every corner of the globe to share their wisdom with them. And certainly not the donations that had been pouring in, enough to keep this place thriving for years.

You ran a hand through your hair, glancing at a nearby photo. It was of you and a group of kids, all in their mini hats, standing next to one of the chefs from some Michelin-starred restaurant. They’d come to volunteer for a day, to give these kids a taste of their future—what could be theirs if they kept going.

“Back then, when I lost, I thought it was the end. But now…” You paused, looking around at the faces of the kids, at the excitement in their eyes as they tried to get their dough just right or figure out the balance between sweet and savory. “Now, I can’t imagine it going any other way. This is where I was meant to be.”

The interviewer nodded, clearly trying to keep up, but you could tell they hadn’t expected the story to take this turn. They probably thought you’d talk about how the loss fueled some revenge arc, a rise to the top, something a bit more dramatic. But the truth? The truth was softer than that, more human.

At this point, most of the world’s top chefs had been here at some point or another. Either they’d come to run a class, spend a day with the kids, or drop by to donate supplies. There was something magical about seeing their eyes light up when they walked through the doors, like they were stepping back into the beginning of their own journey.

“That’s amazing,” the interviewer said, scribbling something down. “You’ve had some huge names come here. What’s it like working alongside these big chefs now?”

You shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “It’s surreal sometimes. You know, these are people I looked up to, the same ones I’d watch on TV or read about when I was younger, just starting out. And now they’re here, in my kitchen, helping my kids.”

[...]

You were just finishing up, wiping your hands on the towel after the last batch of cookies came out of the oven, when you saw Fred practically running into the kitchen. The grin on his face said it all before he even opened his mouth.

“Fifty grand!” he shouted, stopping just short of knocking over a jar of flour in his excitement.

“Fifty what?” you blinked, thinking you must’ve misheard. Fifty thousand dollars? That was… huge. Massive. Your mind raced, trying to figure out how that could even be possible.

“Yep,” Fred beamed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Just got the news from the accountant. Some company called Lee Gastronomy—never heard of ‘em—but they sent the check and a little note saying they’re excited to support the house. Something about moving back to town soon and wanting to visit.”

You felt your heart race as you tugged your apron off, suddenly needing to see the paperwork for yourself. Fifty thousand dollars? That was enough to cover months of supplies, repairs, upgrades—hell, you could finally get that new oven you’d been dreaming about for the kitchen. “Lee?” you frowned, trying to jog your memory. “I don’t know any Lee.”

Fred shrugged, still grinning. “Me either. But who cares, right? We just got fifty grand!”

Even though the number hung in the air like a golden ticket, something felt strange. You didn’t know any Lee. You’d worked in this field long enough to know all the big players—chefs, donors, restaurant owners, food critics—but no one named Lee had ever crossed your path.

The next few days passed, Fred had started spreading the word about the donation, and suddenly, you found yourself knee-deep in logistics. Checking with the accountant, verifying the donation, making sure everything was legit. And yeah, it was. The company’s registration number checked out, the money had cleared, and everything seemed on the up and up. But that name… Lee Gastronomy. It still didn’t ring any bells.

Every time you mentioned it to someone—colleagues, friends, even the chefs who had been visiting the voluntary organization—they’d shake their heads too. No one had ever heard of them. You tried not to dwell on it too much; after all, it was a lot of money, and you had kids to take care of, projects to fund, and kitchens to keep running.

But then, more donations started rolling in.

First, another $10,000 from a small local bakery, then $15,000 from a chef’s association you’d partnered with in the past. Then $25,000 from an anonymous donor who didn’t leave any contact information—just a note saying they loved what you were doing and wanted to help. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and suddenly, people everywhere wanted to support your cause.

Each time, the donations brought a wave of gratitude and hope. The organization was growing faster than you’d ever imagined, and the possibilities felt endless. You could expand the programs, bring in more kids, offer more hands-on experiences with top chefs. And you did just that. You started upgrading the kitchen, organizing new field trips for the kids, even partnering with local schools to expand the reach of your work.

But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind never quite went away.

“Fred,” you said one afternoon as you both sat in the office, going over the latest set of donations, “Do you think it’s weird that all this is happening right after Lee Gastronomy showed up?”

Fred paused, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, maybe a little? But honestly, I just think word is spreading. People are seeing what we’re doing, and they want to help.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, but your gut told you there was more to it.

The next week, another $30,000 came in. The donation slip was clean, but again, no name. No big donor stepping out of the shadows to claim credit for it. Just money pouring into your NGO like it was destined for you, and yet, you couldn’t figure out why it was all happening now.

[...]

The early morning air was cool as you bent down, adjusting the vases of flowers in front of the organization beautiful entrance. The kids wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and this was your moment of calm. A moment to breathe before the chaos of the day began. Today, your mind was occupied with the meeting you’d been anticipating for weeks.

Lee Gastronomy.

Whoever this mysterious benefactor was, they were finally coming to visit. You’d replayed the moment in your head a hundred times—meeting them, shaking their hand, expressing your endless gratitude. You wanted to make a good impression, show them what their generous donations had been doing. You straightened up, brushing off your pants, when the sound of footsteps on the pavement caught your attention. Two pairs of Gucci shoes appeared in your view, black leather, polished, expensive. The kind of shoes that had power written all over them.

You lifted your head, the best smile already set on your face. "Oh, you must be Lee! I—" The words stuck in your throat.

The face staring back at you wasn’t some stranger. It was him.

Jihoon. Lee? Lee Jihoon?

Your breath tied, and for a second, everything around you disappeared. It was like time rewound itself to that kitchen in Europe, to the sharp look in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitched into that subtle, knowing smirk. He was older now, more mature. His face had lost some of its softness, replaced with sharper angles, and yet… the eyes. You’d never forget those eyes. You couldn’t.

“Jihoon?” You muttered, like saying his name would break the reality in front of you.

Jihoon’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Fred, who had been standing beside you, froze. You could feel his tension, the silent question hanging in the air. He had no idea how you’d react. Hell, you didn’t even know how you’d react.

Everything came flooding back.

The way Jihoon had smirked as you stood there, staring down at your ruined dessert in disbelief. The way his fingers had curled around the restaurant’s keys, how he’d accepted his victory without so much as a glance your way. That little mole near his eye, the one you’d stared at for hours during the competition, watching it crinkle when he frowned or smiled—always at your expense.

You felt it then. The taste. That same, cursed taste of salt rising in the back of your throat. Your body tensed, memories crashing into you with such force it made you dizzy. You felt sick. So, so sick, that you feel like you are about to—

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were rushing inside the house, pushing past Fred, not even sparing a glance back at Jihoon. The nausea was enormous, the weight of the past pulling at your gut, twisting it into knots. You barely made it to the bathroom, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet, just in time for everything to spill out of you.

Fred was right behind you, voice panicked. “Y/N! Hey, hey, it's okay, I’m here.” He knelt beside you, gently pulling your hair back, trying to keep you steady as your body trembled.

You could hear the distant sound of Jihoon’s shoes shifting in the doorway. He hadn’t followed you in. He didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching.

Jihoon stood, frozen at the threshold, his sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Fred’s frantic voice echoed from inside. His assistant, standing beside him, looked equally stunned.

Were you this disgusted by him? To the point of throwing up? Jihoon wondered. He didn’t speak. He didn’t call out to you. Instead, he just stared at the open door, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for something but couldn’t figure out what. The sound of you retching filled the air, and for a moment, he felt it too—a strange, bitter taste creeping up the back of his own throat.

This wasn’t how he imagined seeing you again.

Fred’s voice was soft behind you, concern threaded through his words. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

You shook your head, still gripping the edge of the sink like it could anchor you back to reality. “No. Just... give me a few minutes.”

He didn’t argue. You heard his footsteps fade as he hurried to welcome Jihoon and his assistant. You stayed there for another few seconds, staring at your own reflection. Your face had fallen so fast, drained of all that confidence you’d tried to wear this morning. You brushed your teeth with shaky hands, telling yourself to calm down, to just be serene.

Just get through this. You took a deep breath and headed to the waiting room.

Jihoon and his assistant were seated, quiet, as if they hadn’t said much since Fred greeted them. You couldn’t bring yourself to shake his hand, so you bowed politely instead, keeping your hands clasped behind your back. You felt Jihoon’s eyes on you, but you didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

His assistant, a bright-eyed young man who didn’t seem to sense the tension in the air, smiled warmly. “It’s such an honor to finally meet you in person. Jihoon has told me a lot about the great work you're doing here,” he said, looking genuinely impressed.

You forced a smile, keeping your tone professional. “Thank you. We’re really grateful for all the donations, it’s made a huge difference. The kids... they’ve benefited so much.”

Jihoon’s assistant continued, eyes flicking between you and Fred, clearly excited to be there. “And it’s amazing how far you’ve come since your days in the competition. It must’ve been so tough, especially considering how—”

The room froze. You felt Fred tense beside you, his polite smile flickering, your breath catching in your throat. Even Jihoon’s expression shifted, his face hardening as he quickly looked away, avoiding your gaze entirely.

His assistant, oblivious, continued. “I mean, you two were so competitive back then, huh? And to think, all of this came from that one event—”

Fred cleared his throat sharply, cutting him off, but the damage was already done, his assistant clearly didn't know how Jihoon won. How much does he know? Does he even realize what he’s saying?

“Ah, well—” Fred began.

Jihoon cut him off, voice tight and low. “It’s… a long story.”

Before anyone could say more, the sound of laughter and tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway, saving you from the suffocating silence. The children had arrived.

Fred turned to greet them, and you stepped aside, watching as they rushed into the room, immediately diffusing the tension. They swarmed around you, bright-eyed and smiling, some of the little ones immediately latching onto your legs, asking if they could help in the kitchen today. You smiled softly, crouching down to ruffle their hair.

But then, some of them turned their attention to Jihoon.

Two of the kids, a boy and a girl, who couldn’t have been older than five, ran straight for him, hugging his legs like they’d known him forever. Jihoon stiffened at first, unsure how to respond, but the shock quickly melted as he crouched down, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. You noticed how different it looked from the smirk that used to haunt you.

"Who’s this?" one of the kids asked, looking up at Jihoon with wide, curious eyes.

You exhaled softly, your hands clenching and unclenching behind your back as you felt Fred’s eyes on you. You forced yourself to speak, turning to the kids, your voice softening, sweeter for them. “He’s a really good chef,” you explained, keeping it simple. “He has a biiiig restaurant in Switzerland.”

The younger ones gasped in awe, their faces lighting up as they hugged him tighter. "Wooooow," one of them breathed, eyes wide. “Is Switzerland far?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it’s pretty far,” you said with a small scoff. It was cute how they clung to him without knowing anything about the man he was. How they immediately trusted him just because you said he was a chef, because in their world, chefs were superheroes who made magic with food.

But you didn’t miss the sound of the older kids behind you. Some of the pre-teens had recognized him. Their whispers were loud enough for you to catch, little gasps of “That’s Jihoon!” and “Oh my god, isn’t he, like, super famous?”

One of the girls, barely fourteen, looked at you with shining eyes. “You know Jihoon? Like, Jihoon Jihoon?”

You managed a nod, the tight smile still on your lips. “Yeah, I know him.”

Jihoon, standing there with the kids hugging him, stayed silent, his eyes drifting to you every now and then but never lasting. He looked uncomfortable. Maybe even lost. You wondered if he’d thought about this moment before—if he’d imagined what it would be like to see you again after all these years. Or if, like you, he hadn’t been ready at all.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “Alright, kids, let’s give our guest some space,” you said gently, guiding them away from Jihoon’s legs. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today, and I’m sure Chef Jihoon is going to want to take a look around.”

The younger ones reluctantly let go, giggling as they scampered off to join their friends.

You smiled softly when you saw Jihoon’s assistant already in the thick of it, playing with the kids like he'd been there for weeks. His laughter mixed with theirs, easy and carefree.

But then you turned, eyes flicking to Jihoon, who was still standing awkwardly at the edge of the room, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. You called his name quietly, over your shoulder, “Jihoon, come on.”

He dawdled but followed. As he walked toward you, you tied the apron behind your back like you had eyes on your hands, the kids gathering around the kitchen counter, their eyes wide with interest. Jihoon stayed a few steps behind, unsure of how to approach this situation—teaching kids was never something he'd done. Hell, it wasn’t even in his plans for the day.

But he remembered being the kid, the one sitting in front of a chef, hungry for knowledge and desperate to learn everything.

You leaned against the counter, your arms crossed as you gave him a sideways glance. “Do you guys know what Chef Jihoon is going to teach us today?”

The kids chorused a loud, excited “Noooo!” bouncing on their heels.

You turned fully to him, holding his gaze. He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like the spotlight was burning on him.

“I’ll let Chef Jihoon tell you then,” you said, challenging, like you were throwing him into the deep end on purpose. You wanted to see him squirm, maybe just a little.

Jihoon glanced at the eager faces in front of him, then back to you. His throat felt dry as he tried to come up with something to say, but for a second, all he could hear was the hum of his own nerves. The last time he had been in a kitchen like this, it wasn’t full of small hands and bright eyes—it was full of pressure, competition, and an entirely different energy.

But he wasn’t about to let you see him hesitate. He cleared his throat and stepped up to the counter, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Well,” he started, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I think today... we’ll be learning how to make something really special. Something I first learned when I was just starting out.”

He shot a quick look at you, and you could tell from the flicker in his eyes that he was stepping back into habitat. You smirked, leaning back against the counter as he continued.

“Let's make risotto… How's that sound?”

The kids’ faces immediately dropped, little frowns forming as they shook their heads. “We already know that one!” one of them piped up, crossing his arms, indignant. “Chef Y/N taught us already!”

You couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped, filling the room, and Jihoon shot you a sidelong look, his own lips twitching like he was fighting not to falter. Of course they already knew risotto. You’d practically burned through every recipe in the book with them.

Jihoon looked at the kids again, genuinely surprised. “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “You already know how to make risotto?”

They nodded, several of them bouncing with pride. “Chef Y/N is really good!” a little girl said.

Jihoon’s expression softened, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes as he took it in. He took a breath, thinking, before a sudden idea sparked across his face. “Alright, then. What about soufflé?”

The kids’ eyes widened, jaws dropping as they exchanged glances. “A soufflé?” one of the older kids asked, almost disbelieving. “Like the one in movies?”

Jihoon nodded, his face a little smug. “Yeah. It’s tricky, but I think you guys are up for it.”

One of the kids tugged at your sleeve, whispering, “Chef Y/N, do you think we can really make soufflés?”

You smiled, glancing at Jihoon. “With a chef like Jihoon teaching you? I think you can do anything.”

You and Jihoon began laying out the ingredients on the counter. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs—every item carefully arranged in neat little bowls. Then, stepping back, you let the kids gather around as Jihoon took his place at the front, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You’re not going to help me?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall behind the children. “Nope. I’m here to learn too.”

He let out a scoff, but his eyes were amused. Reaching for a whisk, Jihoon’s fingers stopped as he noticed the brightly-colored utensils on the countertop—handles painted in cheerful blues, yellows, and pinks, completely different from the pristine silver ones he’d grown so used to in the rigid, professional kitchens.

His brow twitched, a bit thrown off, but he picked up a neon pink whisk, holding it up almost in disbelief before he finally began mixing, putting on the best show of professionalism he could manage with a grin sneaking in.

The kids were entranced as he worked. He answered each of their questions, even the simple ones—What’s this do? Why are eggs so runny? Is soufflé really magic? He gave patient answers, a spark in his eyes as he watched their faces light up with each response.

When he was done, a perfect, puffy soufflé stood in the middle of the counter. Golden, light, and exactly what you’d expect from someone with his skill. The kids were practically bouncing in excitement.

“Alright, your turn,” Jihoon said, stepping back and motioning for them to take over.

You paired up with a small boy, who looked completely intimidated by the fluffy soufflé sitting next to him. “I can’t make it like that,” he whispered to you.

You knelt down next to him, helping him break the eggs with careful hands, showing him how to separate the whites, then guiding his little hand as he whisked. “Doesn’t matter if it’s perfect,” you told him with a warm smile. “Just give it your best shot.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon crouched down beside a little girl who was struggling to mix the eggs. Her arm had started to tremble, the bowl wobbling in her hands.

“Here, I’ll help you,” he said, holding the bowl steady with one hand while he took the whisk with the other. “Let’s mix it together.”

The smile that spread across Jihoon’s face as he watched her efforts, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in years, softened something in—No. Hell no. Back to the recipe.

When the kids finally placed their soufflés in the oven, the results were… varied. Some soufflés rose tall and proud, while others sagged or deflated at the edges. One came out a bit lopsided, and another had been forgotten for a moment, the top a little browned, but that didn’t matter. They each wore their own version of pride on their faces, and you couldn’t help but feel it too.

Jihoon looked at the table, and shook his head, smiling. “They’re perfect,” he murmured, glancing at the children with an approval nod.

As the kids eagerly dug into their soufflés, one of the smaller boys took a big spoonful, his eyes lighting up at first. But then his face scrunched, his little nose wrinkling as he swallowed. He put his spoon down, looking directly at you with a distressed expression.

“Did I… put salt instead of sugar?” His lip started to tremble as he looked between you and Jihoon, mortified.

You froze. But before you could say anything, Jihoon, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, looked up, his eyes darting from the kid’s teary face to your stiff expression. The moment seemed to snap him to life, and he quickly sprang forward, kneeling down beside the boy, hands shaking in a mad rush.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Jihoon said. He took the boy’s tiny hand in his. “There are tons of salty soufflés! I actually make one all the time. In my restaurant, it’s super fancy, with cheese and herbs, just like this one.”

The boy looked up, sniffling, his tears slowing a little. “Really? There’s… supposed to be salt?”

Jihoon nodded enthusiastically, glancing back at you as if asking for backup. “Absolutely! Chef Y/N could tell you all about it.” He shot you a look, almost saying like: What do I do now?

Taking a shaky breath, you knelt down beside the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s a great first try.” You ruffled his hair, seeing him perk up a bit.

Jihoon took a spoonful of the soufflé and tasted it, giving an exaggerated nodl. “Mm! It's really good!” He winked at the boy, who finally cracked a shy smile.

You watched with a small smile as each kid left with a bit of your heart in tow, feeling the echo of their laughter around you even as the room began to empty.

Fred lingered by the door, chatting with Jihoon’s assistant, while you and Jihoon moved to the side, staying silent, as if words would disturb whatever fragile peace had been built between you during the day. It felt strange, standing there beside him without the buffer of the kids to fill in the pauses.

Jihoon broke the silence first, clearing his throat softly. “I wanted to talk to you… I think my team and I would really love to support your organization long-term… Make it official, if you’d be interested. We could even bring some of the chefs, host classes, give the kids more to look forward to.”

“I appreciate the donation,” you began carefully measured. “I really do. But I need to be honest, Jihoon. I don’t want this house to lose what makes it special, what makes it ours. I don’t want it to turn into some… shiny project to impress donors or pull in crowds. It’s supposed to feel like us, like the kids. Not some big production.”

After a pause, he let out a soft hum, tilting his head slightly. “And what’s wrong with improving things? Giving the kids access to better resources, better… training?”

There it was—his tone wasn’t outright disdainful or insulting, but there was a bite to it, something faintly snobbish that made your stomach churn. You could feel Fred tense slightly beside you, the way his shoulders shifted like he wanted to step in but wasn’t sure if he should. Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by his boss’s words.

You scoffed. “Better training?” you repeated, folding your arms. “Is that what you think this is about? You think just because this isn’t the fancy kitchen you grew up in—or whatever perfect, silver-lined school taught you—you have the right to waltz in here and act like this isn’t good enough?”

Jihoon opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak. The floodgates were open now, the words spilling out of you like they’d been waiting years. “I learned to cook in a place like this,” you said firmly, jabbing a finger toward the counters, the bright utensils, the slightly battered cutting boards. “And guess what? It brought me to the same competition as you. So don’t stand there and act like these kids need some ‘upgrade’ to be worthy of your world.”

Fred's face went pale as he looked at you.

“You’re too busy chasing Michelin stars to see what really makes cooking special.” You spat.

Jihoon’s assistant visibly winced, and Fred looked at you with wide eyess.

Jihoon, though, didn’t react right away. He just stood there, his hands clenching slightly at his sides. “Is that what you think? That I came here just to… what? Smudge this in your face?”

It wasn’t until Fred gently touched your elbow that you realized how tense you were, your hands clenched your crossed arms. You took a breath.

“I don’t know why you came here,” you admitted finally, your voice softer now but no less firm. “But if you’re here to help, then help. Don’t stand there and tell me what this place is lacking. Because it’s got something no five-star kitchen could ever give you.”

He just nodded once. His assistant looked like he wanted to crawl into the floor, and Fred let out a low sigh, clearly debating whether to step in again.

Finally, Jihoon spoke, “I’m not here to tear this place down,” he said. “But if I’m going to help, I need to know how. You think I don’t understand what makes this place special? Fine. Show me then.”

Fred cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping in to break the silence. “Maybe we should, uh, pick this up another day?” he suggested, glancing between you and Jihoon. Neither of you responded. Enough for now.

You watched Jihoon step into the car, the heavy door closing with a muffled thud. From the front window, you could see him lean back against the seat, his face partially obscured by the tinted glass. His assistant was halfway to the car when he stopped, paused mid-step, and turned back toward you.He turned slow, really slow, like he’d been debating this for a while and finally made up his mind.

You raised an eyebrow as he approached, his blond hair catching the light “Chef Y/N,” he began, his voice sweet, with a thick French accent. His hands reached out to clasp yours—oddly personal. “I hope you’ll excuse me for interrupting, but… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything today.”

His words took you off guard, and your brow furrowed slightly.

He sighed, the kind of long, exasperated exhale that suggested he’d had this conversation—or at least a version of it—with Jihoon before.

“Monsieur Lee,” he said carefully, “was truly excited to visit your NGO. It has been all he talks about since we first began planning this trip. But, you know him… he doesn’t always measure his words. He means well, but he can come off as—how do you say it?—impolite.”

You huffed a small, mirthless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

The assistant smiled faintly, “I hope you don’t let it affect your view of his intentions. He genuinely respects what you have built here. I’ll make sure to put some sense into his head, I promise. But please, don’t forget about our offer. It’s a good one, and I think… deep down, Monsieur Lee truly believes in what you’re doing here. Even if he doesn’t always know how to say it.”

You held his gaze, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity, but found none. He was genuine, you could tell. After a moment, you gave his hands a light squeeze and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” you said softly. “But this place… it’s not just about the offer. It’s personal to me. If I do decide to work with you all, it has to be on my terms.”

“Of course!” he said immediately, his smile growing. “And that is as it should be. Thank you for considering it.”

With that, he let go of your hands and returned to the car, leaving you standing there in the fading light. Jihoon didn’t look up as the car pulled away, while you looked until it disappeared down the road.

The days after Jihoon’s visit were surprisingly quiet, almost too quiet. You’d half-expected a deluge of follow-ups or more awkward exchanges, but instead, you found yourself with space to think. The children, as always, were a welcome distraction. They filled the kitchen with their laughter and the occasional misstep, their joy a constant reminder of why you’d built this house in the first place.

Still, Jihoon lingered in the back of your mind. His presence at the NGO had stirred up so many old emotions. Every time you thought about his assistant’s words, you felt a strange knot of uncertainty in your chest. Was it possible that Jihoon’s intentions weren’t as cold as they’d seemed? Could you trust him to help without losing the heart of what you’d created?

One evening, Fred found you sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a stack of donation forms. “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About Jihoon?”

You shot him a look, and he grinned. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve been quiet since he left. I can tell he got under your skin.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “It’s just… complicated. He said some things that really pissed me off, but his assistant made a good point. I don’t know, Fred. I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

Fred crossed his arms, considering your words. “Look, I don’t know Jihoon like you do. But from what I’ve seen, he’s not the same guy he was back then. Maybe give him a chance to prove that.”

A week later, Jihoon showed up again, this time without his assistant. You spotted him standing awkwardly at the front gate, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked out of place, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Back so soon?” you called out, walking toward him.

He turned, his eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to talk. Without the… entourage.”

You raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to follow you inside. The two of you sat in the empty kitchen, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Jihoon placed the bag on the counter and pulled out a small box. “I brought something for the kids,” he said, opening it to reveal a set of beautifully crafted utensils, each one colorful and child-sized.

You blinked in surprise, your defenses momentarily lowering. “These are… amazing.”

“I thought they might like them,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And I thought maybe I could help more, if you’ll let me.”

You hesitated, studying his expression. There was no trace of the condescension you’d seen before.

[...]

The sound of running water filled the quiet kitchen, punctuated by the clink of dishes being handed off between you and Jihoon. The day had been long, the kind of long that left you too tired to think straight but restless enough to keep moving. You focused on scrubbing the edges of a baking dish, the suds thick around your fingers, and handed it to Jihoon without a glance. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, pausing more than he should. You pulled back instinctively, grabbing the next plate before he could say anything.

Jihoon sighed, turning toward the wide window above the sink. The last light of the day was fading, casting a soft orange glow over the room. He dried the dish slowly, as if trying to draw out the moment.

“You’ll never forgive me, will you?”

The question stopped you in your tracks. You placed the plate you were washing back into the sink and leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter. The bubbles clung to your hands, foam dripping down to the marble. You stared at the suds for a moment, your mind swirling, before you turned your head slightly toward him.

“I never heard a sorry leave your mouth, Jihoon.” Your gaze shifted to the window, avoiding his reflection.

“I didn’t think it would matter,” he admitted. “I thought… what’s the point? Saying sorry wouldn’t change anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You thought what? You think you can just show up here, give donations, play nice with the kids, and everything gets wonderful well?”

Jihoon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” You crossed your arms, still feeling the slickness of the detergent on your skin. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you trying to fix something without actually addressing the damage you caused.”

You opened your mouth to continur, but he cut you off. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Go back in time? Undo it? All I can do is try to make up for it now, and if that’s not good enough for you, then tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

The frustration in his voice caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. “You don’t get to decide how or when I forgive you, Jihoon. That’s not how this works. And for the record, no, you can’t undo it. You can’t take back the way you made me feel that day.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t look away. “I know. I know I can’t.”

You shook your head. “And yet here you are, acting like showing up and playing nice will fix it all. Like you can just… sweep it under the rug.”

“I’m not trying to sweep it under the rug. I’m trying to be better. To show you that I’ve changed.”

You go back to the dishes. The water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a stubborn stain on the bottom of a pot, the bubbles swirling down the drain. Jihoon stood beside you, methodically drying the dishes and placing them on the counter without a word.

But something twisted in your gut, you swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing on your chest. Your voice, when it finally came out, was quiet, and more fragile than you wanted to sound.

“Why the salt?”

Jihoon froze mid-motion, the towel in his hands slipping slightly. You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed on the pot as if it held all the answers you’d been seeking.

“Why did you do this to me Jihoon?”

He exhaled shakily, his knuckles white as he gripped the counter. It wasn’t just your question—it was the way you’d asked, like a small, innocent version of yourself had reached through the years to speak, like spiritually, your inner child canalized her voice to his ears. Jihoon felt it deep in his chest, an ache that mirrored yours. It was as though the girl you’d been when you first started chasing this dream was standing there, demanding an explanation he’d never given. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“I…” he started but faltered, running a hand through his hair, his voice dropped. “I didn’t… mean for it to be like that.”

You set the pot down, water dripping from your hands as you turned to him. Your eyes searched his face, looking for something—remorse, understanding, anything. “Then why? Why did you do it? Was it just… some sick joke to you?” Your voice wavered, and you blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Do you know what that did to me? What it felt like to watch—” You stopped, your words catching in your throat.

Jihoon closed his eyes, pressing his palms flat against the counter as if steadying himself. He felt sick, the kind of sickness that sat heavy in his chest and made it hard to breathe. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t my idea,” he said finally, his voice strained.

You frowned, your confusion evident. “What do you mean it wasn’t your idea?”

He turned to you then, his expression torn, guilt scripted all over his face. “It was my tutor’s idea,” he admitted, his words tumbling out like they’d been locked up for too long. “He… he told me to do it. Said it would make me stand out, give me an edge. He thought sabotaging someone else would make me look stronger. And I was—” He broke off, running a hand over his face. “I was stupid enough to listen.”

Your stomach churned, the twist in your gut tightening. “Your tutor?” you repeated, the disbelief clear in your voice.

Jihoon nodded, his eyes, pained. “He was more than just a tutor. He became my business partner after the competition. He was the one who pushed me toward the restaurant, who built me up to be this… this thing I didn’t even recognize anymore.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now…I can’t stand him. He’s why I’m back here. I couldn’t take it anymore. The way he runs things, the way he manipulates people—it was eating me alive.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. “So you’re saying… you did it because he told you to?”

“Yes.. But I chose to do it. I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no. I was just so… desperate to prove myself, to win, to be the best.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And I didn’t care who I hurt along the way.”

The importance of his confession lolled in the air. You turned your back to the sink. “I kept asking myself, What did I do wrong? And all the while, it was you.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how weak you sounded.

“I know, I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. Seeing you crying that day… it still haunts me. And when I saw you throw up when I came here, I realized just how deeply I’d hurt you. I…” He trailed off, his eyes glistening. “I can’t undo it. I know I can’t. But I’m trying to make it right. I just want you to know… I’m sorry. For everything. And I’ll keep saying it until it means something.”

“So…” you started, leaning back against the counter as you dried your hands on a towel. “You left a Michelin-starred restaurant behind? All of it?”

Jihoon nodded, like a weight had been partially lifted.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And now that you don’t have it, you want this to be yours too? The house?”

He let out a scoff, but it wasn’t sharp like before, it was straight funny. “You could’ve had both,” he countered, tilting his head. “A Michelin-starred restaurant and this. I could never.”

You couldn’t help but hold back a small smile, shaking your head.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a small, genuine smile. Then he extended his hand, palm open, toward you. “Come on,” he said softly.

You glanced at his hand, then back at his face, narrowing your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Offering a truce,” he replied. “Come on. You can’t make me stand here forever.”

For a second, you hesitated, looking at his hand again. With a resigned sigh, you dried your hands fully, reaching out to take his. Your grip was firm.

But you couldn’t help it. “You sure you want to start here? With that hair?” You gestured to his slightly mussed locks, which looked more chaotic than usual after hours in the kitchen. “You’ve been running from Michelin stars, but your hair looks like it’s been running from a comb.”

Jihoon froze for a second, then let out a genuine laugh, his head tilting back slightly. It was the first time you’d heard it that day, and it made something inside you soften.

“Don’t think the kids haven’t noticed. One of them asked if you were cosplaying as a hedgehog earlier.”

Jihoon smiled wide, almost beaming, though he tried to downplay it by scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. I get it. Point taken. But you know, I think they like me.”

“They tolerate you,” you corrected, smirking. “Big difference. You’re still on trial here, Jihoon.”

He pressed his free hand dramatically to his chest. “Tolerate me? That hurts, Y/N. I thought I had charm.”

“You’ve got something,” you teased, releasing his hand to grab another dish towel. “I’ll let you know what it is once I figure it out.”

Jihoon leaned against the counter, his eyes softening as he watched you. “You’ll let me know, huh? That sounds fair.”

Jihoon’s attempts to help with the house didn’t feel like an intrusion anymore.

A few days later, Jihoon was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a group of kids, trying to teach them a few basic culinary techniques. His patience was better than you’d expected, though he still had moments where he looked at you like: How do you deal with this every day?

“Chef Jihoon, is this how you hold the whisk?” one of the smaller kids asked, holding it in a fist like a sword.

“No, not unless you’re planning to fight your eggs,” Jihoon replied, gently adjusting the child’s grip. “Like this. Light, but firm.”

You stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. Fred sidled up beside you, nodding toward Jihoon. “He’s really trying, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He is.”

As the session wrapped up, Jihoon caught your eye from across the room. He raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking for your approval. You pretended to consider, then gave a small nod. His lips twitched upward, satisfied.

Jihoon had never considered himself great with kids.

He wasn’t the type of uncle who could entertain nieces and nephews for hours without breaking a sweat, like his friend Seungkwan. Yet, here he was, surrounded by giggling children who hung on his every word—and he had to admit, it wasn’t as terrifying as he’d thought.

He’d found himself loving this. The chaos, the noise, the silly little moments. The kids, with their endless energy and bright smiles, were teaching him things he never thought he would learn. They were curing him in ways he never imagined.

Jihoon couldn’t hide the change in his mood when the kids started leaving for the day. They’d crowded around the door, each of them getting picked up by their parents, giving their final hugs, running out of the kitchen, their little hands waving goodbye. Jihoon stood in the doorway, watching them, his gaze soft. He didn’t admit it out loud, but there was something about seeing the kids leave that made him feel a little emptier inside. Maybe it was because he could feel the bond forming between them even though they’d only spent a short time together.

“Are you really sulking now?” you asked, walking past him to grab the last dish from the counter.

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the slight pout on his lips. “No,” he mumbled, hands stuffed in the pockets of his apron. “I just... I’m not used to saying goodbye. Even if I’m going to see them again tomorrow.”

You chuckled, watching him—you've found yourself in this situation multiple times at the beginning. “It’s fine, Jihoon. You’re just getting attached.”

He shot you a side-eye, as if daring you to make fun of him. “I’m not attached.” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder as you moved to the other side of the kitchen to help clean up. “You’ve become one of them now. A softie.”

[...]

The kitchen had never felt more alive than it does today. Jihoon, who had never been particularly fond of chaos, was smiling—almost laughing—while keeping his eyes on the counter. It was supposed to be a “friendly” competition between the boys and girls, but honestly, it was just an excuse to see how much you and Jihoon could handle before the chaos completely overtook you. And right now, it was clear neither of you were winning.

You stood on the boys’ side of the kitchen, trying to keep them from getting too rowdy as they threw flour at each other in some misguided attempt to "season" their dishes. On the other side, Jihoon was managing the girls, who, much to his dismay, were doing exactly what you expected them to do.

Jihoon stood there in your pink apron, his now short hair practically glistening with glittering accessories—tiny scrunchies, little clips holding stray locks back—making him look like the type of man who should’ve been anywhere but in a kitchen with a bunch of kids.

One of the girls tugged at Jihoon’s sleeve. “Chef Jihoon, can you stir this? It’s too heavy!” she whined, her small hands gripping the bowl.

“Of course,” Jihoon said, crouching slightly to be at her level, but not before side-eyeing you. “Unlike someone,” he said with mock emphasis, “I don’t leave my team hanging.”

You gasped dramatically from across the kitchen. “Excuse me, Chef Lee, but my boys are doing just fine, thank you very much!”

Jihoon smirked as he whisked the batter.

A few minutes later, the competition was in full swing, and the teasing between the kids was relentless. Every now and then, you had to intervene.

“Chef Y/N, Chef Jihoon’s team says our cookies will burn!” one of the boys pouted, pointing accusingly at Jihoon’s side of the kitchen.

You shot Jihoon a glare. “Chef Lee, are you sabotaging my team’s confidence?”

Jihoon feigned innocence, holding up his hands. “Sabotage? I would never,” he said, though his smirk betrayed him.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. You crouched to whisper conspiratorially to the boys, loud enough for Jihoon to hear. “Don’t worry, kids. His cookies will taste like his personality—bitter.”

At one point, Jihoon crossed behind you to grab a pan, but instead of taking the wide-open space on the other side, he chose to squeeze behind you in the narrow gap between the counters.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, voice low and entirely unnecessary given the proximity. His hand brushed your waist as he reached past you, and you stiffened, gripping the spoon in your hand tighter.

“There’s a whole kitchen, Jihoon,” you scolded, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why are you in my personal space?”

He bit his bottom lip, as he moved away, holding the pan. “Just testing the waters. Seems warm.”

You huffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Go test the waters on your side of the kitchen before I throw you in the sink.”

He laughed, a soft, melodic sound that you hated how much you were starting to like. “Alright, alright. Don’t get flustered, Chef Y/N. I’ll behave.”

Later, you decided to up the teasing as revenge. Jihoon was bent over, helping one of the girls pour batter into a mold. You leaned close to him, hand on his back, making his back stiff under your hand.

You scoff, your breath tickling his ear. “Careful, Chef Lee. Don’t spill. That would ruin your team’s reputation.”

Jihoon fumbled with the mold, nearly spilling the batter as he straightened up abruptly. He shot you a look, his cheeks faintly pink. “Very funny.” he muttered, grabbing the whisk with a little too much force, the batter splattering slightly.

The kids were oblivious to the Chef's bickering, fully focused on their creations. The teasing continued until the final moments, each team plating their cookies and presenting them proudly.

By the end of the competition, the kids were giggling and cheering as Fred and Jihoon’s assistant judged the dishes. Jihoon stood beside you, both of you wiping flour off your hands as the verdict was announced: a tie.

You stood beside Jihoon as the kids debated whose cookies looked better. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You know, you’re lucky there’s no actual judging panel. My team would wipe the floor with yours.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Keep dreaming, Lee.”

When the kids weren’t looking, he nudged you lightly with his elbow. You elbowed him back, harder, earning a stifled laugh.

[...]

You sat slumped at your desk, your face buried in your hands as Fred paced back and forth in front of you, rattling off potential solutions. The stress of the upcoming fundraiser gala was weighing on you like a damn cast-iron skillet.

The shelves in the stockroom were stacked with ingredients that you weren’t even sure you’d be able to use now that the catering service had ghosted you. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Fred sighed dramatically, flopping down in the chair across from you. “Alright, boss, what’s the game plan? Do we, like, call another service or… just throw in the towel and serve chips and soda?”

You groaned, peeking at him through your fingers. “Fred, I swear to God, if you bring up chips one more time—”

“Okay, okay, chill,” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “But for real, though. We gotta figure this out. You know how fancy these people are. One whiff of ‘homemade’ and they’re gonna start asking if we milked the cows ourselves.”

You let out a dry laugh, leaning back in your chair and staring at the ceiling. “I should’ve just canceled the gala altogether. Who even does this every year? I’m not Beyoncé.”

Fred smirked. “True, but you’re like… Beyoncé of the kitchen. That counts for something, right?”

“Fred,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes at him. “That is not helpful.”

You were mid-spiral, staring at your disheveled desk, when a knock pulled you out of your chaos. Turning sharply, you found Jihoon leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to look casual—but you could tell he was hesitant, maybe even nervous.

What the hell did he want now? You thought he already headed home.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his eyes darting between you and Fred, who was sprawled across the chair forehead red from how stressed he got.

Fred’s head shot up like a meerkat. “Not at all! Actually, perfect timing—”

You shot Fred a glare sharp enough to make him frown. “Fred. Shut. Up.” Then you turned to Jihoon, crossing your arms. “What do you want?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Heard about the cancellation. Thought you might need a hand.”

Fred couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “She needs more than a hand. She needs, like, divine intervention at this point.”

“Fred!” you hissed, your face heating up. Fred waved you off, muttering something about grabbing coffee, and practically bolted out of the room, leaving you alone with Jihoon.

You sighed and turned your full attention to him. “Alright, so what’s this about? Because unless you have a whole-ass catering team hiding in your back pocket, I don’t think you can magically fix this.”

Jihoon tilted his head, his lips twitching into that insufferable smirk you hated so much. “Well, I don’t have one in my pocket, but I do have a team. Or did you forget I used to run a restaurant?”

You blinked at him. Once. Twice. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, straightening up a bit. “I can bring my team in. We’ll handle the food. You focus on… whatever else needs doing. Win-win.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was actually being helpful or just showing off. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly. “I just want the kids to have a good night. And… maybe—prove to you that I’m not as useless as you think.”

You let out a groan, rubbing your temples. “God, you’re so smug.”

“Smug, but capable,” he quipped.

It wasn’t like you had a long list of alternatives, and time was running out. You were about to say no—hell, you even opened your mouth to shut him down—but the words didn’t come. You were stuck, and deep down, you knew it.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms even tighter. “But if your team screws this up, Jihoon, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

His smirk widened into a full grin. “Deal.”

He turned to leave, and you couldn’t resist one last jab. “And don’t think this means I trust you or anything!”

Jihoon glanced back, his smirk back to its usual lazy self. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chef.”

Fred found you in the kitchen later, supervising a delivery of more ingredients that just reminded you how overwhelming this whole gala was going to be. “So, you really letting Jihoon handle the food?”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, signing off on a receipt. “It’s either him or I start calling catering companies and praying someone says yes for this weekend.”

Fred snickered, nudging you with his elbow. “You’re playing with fire, boss. You know that, right?”

“I know...” you sighed.

You bit your lip, your eyes fixed on Jihoon across the room as your thoughts tangled themselves into knots. He was chatting with his assistant, leaning slightly against the counter in that laid-back way of his. But then, a small hand tugged at his pant leg—a boy from the younger group, arms stretched high in the universal signal to pick me up, as he closed and opened his hands.

Jihoon hesitated for half a second, glancing down, but the moment the kid grinned up at him, Jihoon’s expression softened into something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. He crouched to the boy’s level, picking him up with ease, and the little guy immediately started chattering about… something. Jihoon nodded along like it was the most important thing he’d ever heard, even giving a small laugh that made your stomach twist.

“Y/N.” Fred’s voice brought you back, and you turned to see him giving you that I’m onto you look.

“What?” you whispered sharply, leaning closer.

Fred smirked. “I said, you’re really letting Jihoon handle this? Big leap of faith.”

You sighed, dropping your voice even lower so no one else could hear. “Do you think he’s gonna mess everything up again?”

Fred tilted his head, watching Jihoon over your shoulder. “Mess up? Nah. He’s too proud for that. He’d rather break his back making this perfect than give you more ammo to throw at him.”

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You’re awfully optimistic.”

Fred leaned closer, his voice lowering to match yours. “Look, I know he’s got a reputation—believe me, I’ve heard all about it—but people change. I’ve been watching him. He’s trying, Y/N. He really is.”

You glanced back at Jihoon, just in time to see him toss the boy lightly into the air and catch him, earning a giggle loud enough to echo through the room. Jihoon smiled, genuinely, and you caught yourself blinking like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Fred nudged you. “See what I mean? That’s not the same guy who showed up on day one, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t screw this up,” you muttered, your fingers tightening around the clipboard you were holding.

Fred gave you a look that bordered on exasperation. “You’re allowed to doubt, boss, but at least give him credit for showing up. He’s not just phoning it in. Look at him.”

You did. Jihoon had set the boy down and was now crouching as a small group of kids swarmed him, waving drawings in his face. He listened intently, nodding as one of the girls pointed out the details of her masterpiece. Even from a distance, you could see the way his lips twitched into a small smile.

“See?” Fred whispered, his tone softer now. “He’s trying to be here, to be part of this. Maybe he’s not perfect, but none of us are. Don’t punish the guy for trying.”

You bit your lip again, uncertainty clawing at you. “It’s not just about trying, Fred. It’s about doing it.”

“And he’s doing,” Fred countered gently. “Every single day, in his own way.”

You stayed quiet, watching Jihoon stand up and ruffle one of the boy’s hair before turning back to his assistant. As if sensing your gaze, he glanced up, meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment.

Fred patted your shoulder, snapping you out of it. “Look, I’m not saying you have to trust him blindly. But maybe, you can let him prove himself.”

You exhaled sharply, the weight of everything pressing against your chest. “Fine. But if he screws this up, I’m not holding back.”

Fred grinned.

Jihoon, still watching from across the room, gave you a slight nod before turning back to his conversation. The boy at his feet clung to his leg like a koala, and Jihoon, didn’t seem to mind.

— // One day before the Fundraiser Gala // —

The sound of heels and boots against the tile floor echoed through the kitchen, direct contradiction to the usual patter of children’s sneakers and laughter. Jihoon’s team had arrived, and damn, they looked like they meant business. Clad in immaculate white chef coats and black pants, they marched in like some kind of culinary SWAT team, their faces serious as their eyes scanned the colorful cabinets, the shelves stacked with bright utensils, and the whimsical decorations scattered around.

For a second, you thought they might’ve walked into the wrong place. This wasn’t their sleek with its stainless steel everything and clinical vibes.

One of the chefs—a woman probably in her late thirties, with warm brown eyes and a bright smile—broke away from the group. Her crisp chef’s hat stood out even more because of the colorful butterfly pinned to the front. She approached you with her hands clasped in front of her, her energy immediately softening the sharpness of the arrival.

“You must be Chef Y/N,” she saidt. “It’s such an honor to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work. My daughter used to come here a few years ago before we moved away.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her warmth. Then your lips curved into a genuine smile as you reached out to clasp her outstretched hand. “Oh, really? That’s amazing! What’s her name?”

“Ellie,” she said, her smile widening. “She loved it here—always talked about the classes and how kind you were. You really made an impact on her.”

Your chest tightened with pride as you squeezed her hands lightly. “That means so much to me. Thank you for sharing that.”

Jihoon’s voice broke through the moment, sharp but not unkind, as he began directing his team like a seasoned general. “You, start unpacking the equipment and setting up the stations. Over there,” he pointed toward the far counters, “clear the area for plating tomorrow. We’ll use this section for prep. Let’s move efficiently; we don’t have all day.”

The chefs snapped into action, moving in sync as they carried crates of supplies and ingredients to the designated areas. Some paused briefly to take in the kitchen's playful décor—bright red mixing bowls, pink spatulas, even a small chalkboard where the kids had drawn messy pictures of cookies and cakes.

A younger chef paused at the chalkboard and tilted his head, squinting at a crookedly drawn cake. “What’s this supposed to be?”

You smirked, stepping closer. “That’s a birthday cake. Pretty sure it was done by a five-year-old last week.”

He grinned sheepishly and quickly got back to work.

As the flurry of activity settled into a rhythm, Jihoon finally approached you, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms dusted with flour—intimidating or approachable? you couldn't name it.

“So,” he said, nodding toward his team bustling behind him, “what do you think?”

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You brought an army.”

Jihoon smirked, his dimple flashing. “You said you were stressed about the gala. I figured I’d bring reinforcements.”

“I didn’t think reinforcements would look like... this.” You gestured toward the scene unfolding behind him—chefs moving almost mechanically, unpacking boxes of spices, knives, and tools that looked way too fancy for your humble kitchen. “They’re terrifyingly efficient.”

Jihoon’s smirk widened. “It’s what we do.”

You shook your head, pleasedly. “I’m not used to this many people in here. Usually, it’s just me, Fred, and the kids. Maybe a volunteer or two. This is... Geez.”

Jihoon’s expression softened just slightly. “It’ll be fine. They’re good at what they do, and they’re here to help.” He tilted his head toward the woman with the butterfly pin, who was busy organizing a shelf of ingredients. “And they’re not all bad, see? You’ve already made a fan.”

You let out a small laugh, glancing over at her. “She seems sweet. But you—” you pointed at him, mock serious, “—better not let this whole operation steamroll what we’ve got here. I don’t want this place feeling like some high-end restaurant. It’s not what we’re about.”

Jihoon held up his hands, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Noted, Chef. No steamrolling.”

“Good,” you said, though it was a simple conversation, it left your stomach flipping a little.

Fred appeared at your side, raising an eyebrow at the scene. “Well, this is new. You two... not bickering?”

Jihoon let out a low laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

Fred snorted. “Noted.”

As the three of you stood there, Jihoon’s team settled further into their work. And for the first time in days, you let yourself feel a tiny spark of hope. Maybe this fundraiser wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

The faint pop of balloons filled the air as you stood outside the big house, pointing toward the arch being assembled. The guy on the ladder adjusted the last few balloons based on your direction. “Yeah, a little to the left. No, too much—back a bit. Perfect!” you called, stepping back to admire the colorful display. Satisfied, you headed inside to check on the lobby.

The scene was coming together beautifully. Soft string lights cascaded down the walls, tables draped in crisp white cloths were adorned with modest floral arrangements, and a few colorful drawings from the kids had been framed and placed strategically to keep the spirit of the NGO alive. You smiled, exhaustion creeping in.

The kitchen door swung open briefly, the sound of movement spilling out. Jihoon’s voice rang clear as he called out commands. Curious, you moved closer, the faint smell of roasted vegetables and fresh herbs making your stomach grumble.

“Should we add the asparagus to the risotto?” one of the chefs asked Jihoon.

You peeked in to see Jihoon standing near the counter, frowning at the question. His arms were crossed as he considered the dish. “No. Substitute it with something the kids will like better. Maybe peas or sweet corn—something familiar.” His tone was sharp but thoughtful, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He’s got this.

With the decoration finished, you looked around the lobby one last time, hands on your hips, your legs were starting to feel the long day. Just as you were about to head upstairs for a quick break, Jihoon’s voice called out.

“Chef Y/N! Come to the kitchen for a second!”

You groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes but heading toward the kitchen anyway. The team had gathered around the main counter, dishes from the menu arranged neatly in front of them. Jihoon stood in the center, sleeves rolled up, looking completely in his element. When you stepped in, he placed a firm hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to the counter.

“Alright, Chef,” he said with a small smirk. “You’re the boss—taste and let us know if anything needs adjusting.”

You set your clipboard down by the edge of the counter, glancing at the team. Their expressions ranged from curious to tense, some with hands clasped nervously in front of them, others holding their breath. The way they watched you reminded you of the kids during class, eagerly awaiting your feedback with shiny, hopeful eyes. It was a window straight to their inner child, and it warmed you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You picked up the first dish—a delicate risotto plated beautifully with fresh herbs—and took a bite. The creamy texture melted on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but nod in approval. The team collectively exhaled, and a few shared quiet smiles.

Moving to the next dish, a roasted chicken breast with a honey glaze, you chewed thoughtfully before nodding again. Your eyebrows raised as you flipped to a fresh page on your clipboard and started writing.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a few of them shifting nervously, trying to sneak a peek at what you were jotting down. You heard someone’s breath hitch, and you fought back a grin. Their curiosity bubbling over like kids at a science fair.

Finally, you set the pen down and looked up at the group with a big smile. “Everything is excellent,” you said warmly, your tone full of genuine praise. The room erupted into quiet sighs of relief and soft laughter as they exchanged congratulatory nods.

Jihoon stood at your side, his eyes on you, but you didn’t miss the curiosity there, too. You ripped the page from your clipboard and handed it to him. “Here,” you said. “See you all tomorrow—get some rest. You’ve earned it!”

As you left the kitchen, you could feel their eyes lingering on you, their whispers audible even as you stepped into the hallway.

“What did she write?” someone asked, unable to contain their curiosity.

Jihoon unfolded the note, and for a moment, his face was unclear. Then he scoffed softly, a smile breaking across his face as he shook his head.

“What is it, Chef?”

Jihoon chuckled and held up the paper for them to see. Written in bold letters, surrounded by a big smiley face, were the words:

"You have the best team ever, Jihoon-ah! (P.S. Don’t mess it up, or I’ll switch the risotto for instant noodles tomorrow.)"

The room blast into laughter, the tension evaporating in an instant. Jihoon rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

— // The day of the Fundraiser Gala // —

The afternoon stretched lazily into evening. You were on autopilot, clipboard in hand, mentally running through the checklist one last time.

You didn’t even notice Jihoon’s team gathered in a loose circle near the kitchen, stifling laughter as they watched you stride past, completely oblivious. Jihoon, standing at the center, tried to hold it together, his lips twitching and his cheeks dangerously close to full-on pink.

When you finally looked up, feeling the weight of their stares, you froze. Jihoon caught your gaze, his face crumpling into silent laughter as he pointed at your head.

You blinked, confused, before your hand flew up and landed on the pink rollers still perched on your head. Your cheeks flamed instantly. “Oh my God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Not a word!” you warned, glaring at Jihoon, who was practically doubled over, biting his fist to keep from cackling.

“Come on,” he teased, still grinning. “It’s a look!”

You huffed, trying to keep your composure as you giggled despite yourself. Jihoon straightened, still laughing. “Alright, alright, no judgment. But seriously…” His tone softened slightly, and his eyes swept over you. “You’ve been running around all day. Go get ready—we’ll take care of the rest from here.”

You smiled tiredly, feeling the faint brush of his fingers against your shoulder as he winked. The touch lingered, even as you turned to head upstairs.

In your office, the mirror reflected someone entirely different from your usual self. The rollers were gone, replaced by soft waves cascading around your face. The long dress hugged your waist and flared subtly at your hips. It was nothing like the practical aprons or flour-dusted chef hats you wore every day. For the first time in a while, you felt glamorous.

A knock sounded at your door, and Fred poked his head in. “You look…” He sniffed loudly, dramatically. “...so good. Do you even know how to walk in heels?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Shut up, Fred.” The hard texture of his tuxedo jacket pressed against your palm, a memo that tonight wasn’t just another day in the kitchen.

The lobby was alive when you descended the stairs. Guests filled the space—reporters, actors, chefs with Michelin stars under their belts, the kids’ parents, and longtime supporters of the organization. Some children were already laughing and playing with the monitors, their joy cutting through the formal atmosphere in the most perfect way.

You greeted guests warmly, flashing your practiced smile as cameras clicked and people extended hands to shake yours. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jihoon.

He stood near one of the round tables, his pristine white chef’s coat gleaming under the lights. Unlike the standard uniforms, his was sharp and sophisticated, accented with a brooch showcasing his achievements. His short hair was perfectly styled, and the smell of his soap lingered faintly in the air—jihoon always smelled like a fresh bath.

Jihoon was mid-conversation with a Michelin-starred chef, but his attention kept drifting. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved through the crowd. When your gaze met his, he subtly adjusted the collar of his coat, looking flustered.

He raised his hand, beckoning you over.

“Y/N,” he called, a bit more breathless than usual.

You walked over, smiling as he introduced you. “This is Chef Park. I had classes with him when I was just starting out.”

Chef Park extended a hand warmly, and you shook it, your voice full of charm as you exchanged pleasantries. Jihoon tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his gaze kept sliding back to you.

The dress—damn, the dress. The way it emphasized the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, the subtle swell of your chest—Jihoon felt his mouth go dry.

While you chatted animatedly with Chef Park, Jihoon fought to keep himself together. His eyes darted downward for a split second, landing on your ass before quickly snapping back up.

Fred sidled up next to Jihoon, smirking. “She cleans up nice, huh?”

Jihoon shot him a sharp look, cheeks pink. “Shut up.”

Fred grinned wider, nudging him with an elbow. “Bet you’re regretting all those jokes about her rollers now.”

Jihoon groaned quietly, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “You have no idea.”

When the conversation with Chef Park ended, you turned back to Jihoon, your smile soft. “So? Everything on track?”

Jihoon swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. All good. Just… don’t trip in those heels, okay?” he teased lightly, though his voice was a little hoarse.

You smirked, leaning in slightly. “Don’t burn the risotto, Jihoon-ah.”

Fred’s laugh from behind was loud enough to draw attention, but you were already slipping away, leaving Jihoon standing there, flustered and very much not focused on risotto anymore.

Everywhere you turned, there were people—donors, parents, fancy celebs holding glasses of wine like it was part of their outfits. The kind of people who looked too perfect.

Back in the kitchen, you caught glimpses of Jihoon barking orders—well, not barking, but you know, his stern-but-not-rude tone that somehow made you think, damn, is it hot in here, or is it just him? His uniform was doing wonders, too. That brooch on his chest? Fancy as hell. The sharp cut of his chef coat? Not fair. The dude was practically glowing, commanding his team with this quiet authority that made you wanna—well, your ego didn’t wanted to finish that thought.

But it wasn’t just his looks. Watching him orchestrate everything like a culinary conductor, was making your knees go weak—It just hit different. He made plating look like an Olympic sport—it was sexy in a he’s-too-distracted-to-realize-how-hot-he-is kinda way.

You tried not to linger in the kitchen doorway like some creep, but your feet betrayed you. You found yourself lingering by the double doors leading into the kitchen way more than necessary, just to sneak a peek. And when Jihoon glanced up mid-sentence—probably to tell someone to stop over-salting the soup, the devil on your shoulder moaned in the most slutty and mockingly way in your ear.

He had this stupid air about him tonight, like a general in a Michelin-starred army, his pristine chef’s jacket glowing under the lights.

Honestly, it was hot. Too hot.

Every detail mattered to him tonight, like he was pouring himself into every dish for the house—and for you.

Meanwhile, Jihoon… He felt you. He swore he could feel you every damn time you entered the kitchen. He didn’t even have to turn around to know you were standing there, clipboard probably in hand, lips pressed together as you analyzed everything.

At one point, as he was giving instructions about caramelizing the chiken, his assistant caught him mid-stutter. Jihoon blinked, realizing he’d glanced at the door when he didn’t even mean to. Sure enough, there you were, leaning slightly against the doorframe, watching him.

“Chef?” his assistant asked, clearly amused.

Jihoon shook his head, trying to focus. But god, how could he when you were out there looking like that? The memory of your dress earlier—was burned into his mind, everytime he finished a plate.

And you weren’t just standing around, either. You were networking like crazy, charming the big donors with your natural warmth. Jihoon kept overhearing snippets of your conversations, catching the soft laughs you’d coax out of the crowd. His chest tightened every time. How the hell were you this good at everything?

The main event started in the salon, where guests gathered around tables adorned with delicate flower arrangements. A massive screen hung at the front of the room, flashing photos of the NGO’s achievements, kids smiling and laughing, and heartfelt thank-you messages from families.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much—your attention was split between schmoozing the guests and keeping tabs on Jihoon. He entered the room with his team in tow, their white jackets contrasting beautifully with the dark, sleek space. His presence shifted the entire mood, drawing eyes like a magnet.

As the night went on, donations started rolling in. The screen showed the numbers climbing higher and higher, names of donors flashing beside each amount. You clapped along with everyone else, heart swelling every time the digits jumped. But then a new name appeared: Lee Jihoon. His real name by the side of the donation, not his professional one.

Your breath caught. The amount wasn’t just generous; it was enormous. Enough to make an audible gasp ripple through the crowd.

Fred’s hands landed on your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. You didn’t respond, eyes fixed on Jihoon as he stood near the back of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn’t looking at the screen. Instead, his gaze was on you.

Later, after the gala dinner had been served and the kids had performed their adorable little skit, Jihoon’s team gathered in the salon, celebrating their successful service. Jihoon found you again, his hand brushing yours as he handed you a flute of champagne, making you abandon your clipboard once for the night, before heading to the kitchen. Cute.

Minutes later Jihoon saw you coming towards his team direction, and he stepped aside, making room for you in the circle. His hand brushed against your back lightly, making your skin shiver under the pads of his fingers.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you replied, glancing at him. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

He gave a small smile, but it didn’t quite hide the way his chest puffed up a little at your praise.

One of the chefs leaned forward, clearly curious. “So… what’d you think of the risotto?”

You laughed softly, remembering the dish you’d tasted earlier. “Honestly? It was flawless. You guys knocked it out of the park.”

The team broke into wide smiles, their pride radiating through the room. Jihoon stood quietly beside you, but you could feel the satisfaction rolling off him.

“You really do have the best team, Jihoon-ah,” you said quietly, just for him to hear.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know. But don’t tell them that—they’ll get cocky.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed.

[...]

The house was a ghost town now, silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The laughter of the kids and clinking of glasses had faded into memories, and the night felt heavy in the best way—like it had been full.

You stretched your legs out on the rest room couch, head lolling back. The long dress you’d cursed earlier now felt like salvation, hiding how much you wanted to just kick your heels off and sprawl indecently. Fred and Jihoon’s assistant sat across from you, chatting nonstop like they hadn’t just survived the most exhausting night of their lives.

Jihoon, was quiet, his head tilted back against the wall, arms crossed, looking done. You wanted to tell him to take a break, but you knew better—he’d earned the silence.

Still, your throat felt dry, and you sat up suddenly, pushing yourself off the couch. “I need another drink. Back in a sec.”

Fred shot you a look. “Champagne? Or vodka this time?”

“Champagne.” you fflip him off with a tired grin as you headed for the kitchen.

The kitchen was spotless, not a single dish out of place. You stared at the counters, blinking in disbelief.

“No way,” you murmured under your breath, tugging a fresh bottle of champagne from the cooler. “Even the dishes?”

A low voice startled you. “Even the dishes.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the bottle, and spun around. Jihoon was leaning against the doorway, his jacket draped over one arm, his hair slightly mussed like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. He smirked softly at your reaction.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you lied, grabbing a second glass for him. You poured the champagne and handed him one.

“Cheers,” you said, raising your glass.

He clinked his against yours with a quiet chuckle, the sound of the glasses meeting delicate in the silence.

You sat on the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you sipped. Jihoon moved to lean against the counter beside you, his thigh brushing your knee as he turned his glass in his hand.

“You proved me wrong tonight,” you said suddenly, catching his eye.

He tilted his head, curious. “Oh yeah? About what?”

You smiled, a little softer this time. “About whether you really cared about this place. About the kids. About any of it. I thought you were just here because…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Because you had to be.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed, no defensiveness in his voice when he said, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, Y/N. You know that.”

“I do now,” you admitted, setting your glass beside you. “I see it in how you are with the kids. How you talk to them, listen to them. Even tonight, bowing to every single parent...”

Jihoon’s face softened. “They’re… incredible. Every single one of them. I’m not gonna lie—I thought I wasn’t great with kids. But these kids? I love them, Y/N. Like… it’s different. They’re different. They remind me why I even started doing all this in the first place.”

You leaned back slightly, studying him, your chest tightening at how genuine he looked.

“You’re a sap,” you said, grinning.

“And you’re not?” he shot back, smirking.

You nudged his leg with your knee. “Don’t deflect. I’m being serious. You’ve come so far since you got here. And honestly? The house wouldn’t be what it is tonight without you.”

Jihoon stared at you for a long moment, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but then he just took a final sip of his champagne and placed the glass beside yours.

You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until he shifted, slotting himself between your legs with a smoothness that should’ve been illegal. His hands found the counter on either side of your thighs, and he leaned in close.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he murmured. “This place is you. Every inch of it. I’m just… lucky to be part of it.”

Your breath hitched as you met his eyes, the proximity making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Jihoon…”

“Hmm?” His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You’re… a lot.”

“And you’re not?”

Jihoon stood close enough for you to notice how the soft cotton of his t-shirt clung to him underneath the chef’s coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Without thinking, your hand lifted, fingers brushing against the collar of the shirt.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His gaze stayed locked on you, soft and curious.

You cleared your throat, keeping your voice steady. “So… you staying in town? Or are you disappearing again?”

Jihoon tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” you said with a small nod, your fingers lingering for a second longer before dropping back to your lap. “In that case… want to make it official?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Official?”

You grinned, your tired eyes sparkling. “I mean, if you want to be part of our team. Contract and everything. Full-on chef Jihoon at the NGO.”

Jihoon blinked at you, the surprise written all over his face. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied. “At this point, if you leave, the kids are gonna cry for days.”

He scoffed, shaking his head with a laugh. “The kids? I’d probably cry.”

You laughed with him, the sound soft and genuine. “Would you?”

“Definitely,” he said, then glanced at you with a smirk. “Would you cry?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little as you place your palms behind you. “Please. I’ve already cried plenty because of you.”

Jihoon groaned, throwing his head back in defeat. “Don’t bring that up,” he whined.

You softened, nudging his arm. “I’m kidding.”

He sighed, resting his head on your shoulder like he was trying to hide from your teasing. “I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s real.”

You didn’t know if he meant the apology or the gratitude, but the way his hand lifted from the counter to rest on your leg through the slit of your dress made your back arch a bit. His palm was warm against your skin, his touch featherlight as he squeezed gently.

He straightened just slightly, his face close enough now that you could see the faint flush creeping along his cheekbones. “What if,” he said quietly, “I made you cry with something good instead?”

Your lips parted, the question taking you off guard. Jihoon didn’t pull back, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth like he was waiting for an answer. His eyebrows furrowing as if he was doing a really big effort to not kiss you.

“I—” You swallowed, your voice catching as his thumb began to trace slow circles against your leg.

His other hand brushed the edge of the counter beside you, steadying himself as he leaned just a fraction closer. “Would you let me?” he asked softly.

Your breath hitched as Jihoon’s hand slid higher up your thigh, his palm warm and firm. The tiniest, unintentional sound escaped your lips—breathy and needy—and the way his smirk curved made your panties sticky almst instantly. He leaned in, close enough for a soft, teasing peck. Merely there. Then he pulled back just enough to catch your reaction, his smirk deepening at the horny look in your eyes.

“Ji,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his shirt before he could get smug. Your lips found his, no uncertainty at all this time, your tongue slipping between his parted lips.

His lips were impossibly soft, moving against yours with a rhythm that left your mind spinning. His tongue met yours, sweeping against it in a way that made you clutch his shirt tighter, pulling him closer. His hands abandoned your thigh, traveling upward, his palms smoothing over your hips, then the curve of your ass, before they settled on your waist.

Jihoon kissed like he worked in the kitchen—passionately, hard. Every movement was like he knew what would make you wetter, his lips pressing into yours harder, hungrier, as though he was savoring you. His thumbs brushed the edges of your ribs, fingers splaying as he drew you closer, swallowing the quiet moans that slipped out against his lips.

He broke away for a moment, sucking gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a soft pop. His lips lingered, warm and swollen, against your skin as he caught his breath. You felt his breath fan against your jaw before his mouth trailed kisses to the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. The press of his lips there was wetter, slower, his tongue just grazing enough to make your head tilt back.

His lips were plush, his tongue warm as it laved over the skin just below your ear. The sensation was maddening—gentle nips and soothing licks. He kissed lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck, finding the pulse point that fluttered beneath his tongue. His tongue darted out, hot and slick, tasting the salt of your skin before he pulled it back in to suck lightly.

You felt your pussy expulsing more honey right after an agonizing tug on your lower belly. You rolled your hipstrying to find his heat down there too. “Hey—Jihoon,” you murmured, hardly able to get his name out as his mouth kept working, your mind slurred, weak and the faint.

And then, just as his hand slid higher, brushing along your ribcage toward your chest, reality hit you like a slap in the face.

The kitchen.

You froze for a second, pulling back with a shaky laugh as you pressed a hand to his chest. “We can’t… here,” you whispered, your cheeks flaming. “This is literally where the kids cook.”

“You’re right. God, you’re right. Im sorry.” Jihoon said, voice muffled against your skin as he let out a shy laugh. “I know. I just…” He pulled back slightly, looking at you like he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. You’re just…”

“Just what?” you teased, arching a brow even as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“...So hot,” he admitted, his lips curving into a sheepish smile that only made you hornier.

You were about to respond—maybe tease him, maybe kiss him again—when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you both snap out of it like a couple of guilty teenagers caught sneaking around.

Standing in the doorway were Fred and Jihoon’s assistant, their jaws practically on the floor. Fred looked like he’d seen a ghost—or maybe his entire worldview shatter—while Jihoon’s assistant was holding a tray of neatly plated desserts, now slightly tilted as they both froze in place.

“Um…” Fred finally managed. “Are we… interrupting… something?”

You and Jihoon pulled apart instantly—well, as much as you could with him still standing between your legs and his hands still firmly on your waist.

“No!” you both blurted in unison, your voices hitting slightly different octaves, which only made the situation even more awkward.

Fred squinted at the two of you, his gaze darting between your flushed face, Jihoon’s equally guilty expression, and the very obvious fact that you were still sitting on the counter with Jihoon standing way too close.

“Uh-huh,” Fred said slowly, folding his arms. “Because it looks like I just walked into a scene straight out of a porno.”

Jihoon’s assistant, meanwhile, was trying—and failing—to hold back laughter, his shoulders shaking as he set the tray down on a nearby table, grinning like he’d just uncovered the gossip of the century. “Should we give you two a minute? Or, like… ten?”

“Okay, stop,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands as you tried to will the floor to swallow you whole. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like you were—”

“Fred!” you snapped, cutting him off before he could finish that sentence.

Jihoon, to his credit, was doing his best to look professional again, straightening his shirt and stepping back slightly, though his ears were burning red and his black pants were almost exploding with the hard bulge poking the zipper. “I mean… we were just… talking,” he said, his voice awkwardly high-pitched. “Right, Y/N?”

“Totally.” you said, nodding way too quickly.

Fred looked like he was physically restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that totally explains why Jihoon’s lips were practically glued to your neck.”

Jihoon’s assistant let out a snort, finally losing it as he doubled over laughing. “This is so much better than I imagined,” he said between giggles. “I knew something was up between you two, but this? Oh, this is gold.”

“Can we not?” Jihoon mumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he leaned against the counter beside you. “Seriously, just… forget this happened, okay?”

Fred crossed his arms, looking suspiciously amused. “Oh, no chance. This is going in the house history books.”

Jihoon groaned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Yeah, and yet you’re the one making out in the kitchen,” Fred shot back, smirking. “So who’s really winning here?”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and smoothing your dress as you tried to regain some semblance of dignity. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we move on now?”

Fred shrugged, still grinning as he followed Jihoon’s assistant out of the room. “Oh, sure. But just so you know, I’m never letting you live this down.”

As they disappeared around the corner, Jihoon let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. His face softened as he caught your eye, and he let out a quiet laugh.

You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Could be worse.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon asked, stepping closer again, his voice reducing slightly. “Like what?”

You didn’t answer, but the look you gave him said everything.

[...]

The NGO was officially closed for a week after the fundraiser gala—a well-deserved break for everyone involved. You had practically collapsed in exhaustion the night after the event, but now, as the week began, your nerves were alive again for a completely different reason: Jihoon was coming over.

Your house, modest and cozy, suddenly felt inadequate in your eyes. It wasn’t that it wasn’t clean or comfortable—it was—but compared to whatever sleek, high-tech penthouse you imagined Jihoon lived in, with modern furniture, and probably some state-of-the-art espresso machine that greeted him in the morning with a personalized message, you felt like your space might seem a little too... quaint.

Still, you’d spent the morning scrubbing your house from top to bottom. The counters were wiped down three times, the couch cushions fluffed and rearranged, and the tiny plant by the window watered, even though it definitely didn’t need it.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror for what had to be the fiftieth time, smoothing down the soft pink fabric of your loose dress. It wasn’t too dressy, but it was cute and casual enough to not feel overdone. The fabric swayed lightly as you moved, and you liked how it made you look pretty. Enough to say, “I’m not trying too hard, but also please notice I’m cute.”

Why are you acting like this is a date? you scolded yourself. It’s just Jihoon. He’s coming here for work.

To top it off, you’d spent way too long picking out a perfume that smelled sweet but subtle enough to not overpower him. You’d made sure you didn’t smell like cake batter or frosting—not that it would’ve been bad.

When the knock finally came, you nearly tripped over your own feet rushing to the door. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your dress one last time and opened it, trying not to look like you’d been anxiously waiting there for twenty minutes.

Jihoon stood on your porch, casual but polished in a black crewneck and jeans, his hair perfectly messy in that way that looked completely effortless. He smiled softly, holding up a notebook and a small bag of groceries. “I come bearing snacks and bad handwriting,” he said.

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “Well, the snacks can stay. We’ll see about the handwriting.”

Jihoon looked around, his eyes scanning the cozy space. “This is nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “Way more personality than my place.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really? I thought you’d be used to… like… manoir vibes.”

“Manoirs don’t feel like this,” he said, glancing at the soft lighting and the framed photos on your shelves. “This feels like someone actually lives here.”

He smirked, stepping into the living room and setting his bag down. “So, what’s the big plan for this super important work meeting?”

Ah, yes. The “work.” You’d convinced yourself that this was about finalizing the “Culinary Educational Outreach Program” you’d both been brainstorming for the organization. Jihoon called it “CEOP,” pronounced like “sip,” which made Fred gag every time he said it.

“First,” you said, trying to ignore how nice Jihoon looked standing in your living room, “we sit down and outline the goals for CEOP. Then, we cook.”

“Cook?” Jihoon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Are you just using this as an excuse to put me to work in your kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to follow you to the dining table. “Shut up and sit down. We’ve got notes to take.”

The two of you sat across from each other, your knees brushing occasionally under the table. Jihoon’s handwriting was frustratingly neat for someone who claimed he didn’t care about stationary aesthetics, and for someone who claimed to have atrocious handwriting.

“So,” you started, tapping your pen against the page, “we want to make the cooking classes accessible, fun, and educational, right?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said, jotting something down. “But we also need to keep the budget in mind. Like, how much can we actually afford to spend on those tiny aprons the kids keep asking for?”

You snorted. “You’re still salty about the aprons?”

“They’re expensive!” he argued, eyes narrowing at you. “And they’re just gonna get covered in flour and icing.”

“That’s the point, Jihoon. Let them be messy. It’s part of the fun.”

Jihoon shook his head, but you caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Fine. Tiny aprons. But if the kids start demanding personalized chef hats, that’s on you.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly as you scribbled down some ideas. Jihoon’s gaze flickered to your neckline watching how your boobs moved as you breathe for a split second before he snapped back to his notebook, clearing his throat.

The plan transitioned seamlessly into the kitchen—almost seamlessly. You’d barely gotten past measuring the ingredients when Jihoon leaned over to adjust your grip on a whisk, his hand brushing yours.

“You’re holding it like you’re trying to stab the dough,” he teased.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jihoon just laughed, stepping back to watch as you mixed the batter. His eyes wandered—innocently at first, but when you shifted your weight and the neckline of your dress dipped slightly, he had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to… focus.

“Okay, my turn,” he said, taking the whisk from you.

As he worked, you found yourself leaning in closer, watching the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the way his jaw clenched slightly in concentration. You didn’t even realize how close you were until Jihoon dipped his finger into the icing sugar and smudged a line across your cheek, careful to not mess your pretty make up or accidentally spot your dress.

“Hey!” you gasped, stepping back, your eyes wide.

Jihoon grinned, holding up his hands. “What? It’s a kitchen. You’re supposed to get messy, remember?”

You frowned, sulking slightly as you wiped at your cheek. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, not… attack me with sugar.”

Jihoon leaned back just enough to meet your flustered gaze, his smirk downright unsafe. He tilted his head, pretending to be shocked, one hand pressed to his chest in mock disbelief.

“Oh,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “So you want me to kiss you?”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I didn’t—”

“Mm-mm.” Jihoon shook his head, cutting you off as he stepped closer, crowding your space. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been looking at me like that all dayy. And now this pout?” His eyes flicked to your lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “If you do that again, I might just have to—”

You couldn’t look at him. The pressure of his gaze was too much, and you turned your head to the side, lips pressed into a tight line. Jihoon wasn’t having it.

His hand reached up, fingers gently guiding your chin until you were looking at him again. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher, like he was restraining himself from jumping on you. “That pout.” His smile widened, and he took a small step between your legs, his hands finding your hips and squeezing lightly. “C’mere.”

His lips brushed yours—insufficiently, like a mock. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the yearn already forming between your legs, but it was enough to make you almost moan. And Jihoon noticed.

He grinned against your mouth, taking his time as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, bumping your tits in the process. “You’re gonna have to ask me properly, like the good girl you are,” he whispered, the tip of his nose grazing yours.

“Please?” you breathed, but it was all he longed for.

His lips captured yours fully this time, devastatingly thorough. He didn’t rush, every moment spent tasting your lips was something he savored. His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and when you let him in, he took.

His tongue hungrily claimed yours, his tongue sliding against yours in deep, lazy strokes that made your knees weak. His other hand slipped around to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer, so close you could feel the heat of him through his shirt.

He tilted his head, angling the kiss to deepen it further. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging lightly before his tongue followed, soothing the slight sting. The contrast made you whimper, your hands clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright even though the kitchen counter was supporting your back.

“God, you sound so pretty,” Jihoon murmured against your lips. He pressed his hips into yours just enough for you to feel his cock growing inside his pants, making you frown desperately, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

His hand drifted lower, squeezing your waist before trailing over the curve of your ass. When he pulled back, just slightly, his lips were plum, slick and swollen. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot that he tasted and teased days before.

Your head fell back as his lips traveled lower, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of your neck. He sucked lightly, and you knew that it was enough to leave a redspot without even look at it.

Your hand slid between your bodies, and the second your palm made contact with the unyielding weight of his cock, Jihoon’s reaction was instant. His hips stuttered forward, a whiny, almost helpless sound escaping his lips as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. “Oh, fuck—you can’t just—” He cut himself off with a breathy laugh that turned into a moan, his hands gripping your hips to steady himself.

You couldn’t help but grin while rolling your eyes lightly, fingers curling around him to get a better feel. He felt big, so thick that your fingers barely wrapped halfway around the length of him. You gave an experimental squeeze, and his mouth fell open, his breath hitching as he muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive,” you teased, sliding your hand along him slowly, feeling the heat of him through the fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, grinding into your palm, and you gasped at the weight of his phallus.

He lifted his head, his face flushed, lips shiny and parted. “Sensitive?” He let out a shaky laugh, biting his bottom lip before grinning wickedly. “You’re over here squeezing me, and you wanna talk about me being sensitive?”

You squeezed him again, just to see what he’d do, and he cursed loudly, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck—okay, okay, you’re insane.” His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you still as he started to grind against your palm, his cock twitching under your touch.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, and he opened his eyes, his pupils broad as he looked at you.

“What?” he rasped with voice strained but, his hips never losing their rhythm against your hand.

“You’re literally humping my hand right now,” you pointed out, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

“And?” His mouth curved into a smirk, though his voice wavered as you tightened your grip on him. “You think I’m just gonna sit here all chill while you touch me like that?” He let out another moan, his head falling back slightly before his gaze locked on you again.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. “Feels good, huh?” You pressed your palm harder against him, your fingers teasing along his length. His response was immediate—his hips bucked, and a whiny “shit” escaped his lips, his face scrunching up in pleasure.

Jihoon smirked, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours. “Keep playing, and see what happens,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, your fingers brushing against the tip of him, and he groaned, the pads of your fingers starting to get sticky with the precum already jutting through his pants.

He exhaled sharply, and suddenly, his body pressed against yours so firmly that you couldn’t move. The breath hitched in your throat as his hips pushed yours into the counter. Jihoon’s eyes flicked down, and that’s when he froze.

Your dress straps had slipped from your shoulder, the fabric falling just enough to expose the curve of your chest. The neckline dipped precariously low, your tits all but spilling out. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth before smirking. “Hiding all that under an apron, hm? How dare you?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a tiny, playful shake, but the motion only made things worse. Jihoon’s pupils dilated as his eyes flicked between the slight bounce and your face.

Without waiting another second, he hooked his fingers under the neckline of your dress and tugged it down, the fabric pooling at your feet in record time. He muttered something incoherent under his breath, hands already fumbling with the clasp of your bra, his desperation so endearing it made you giggle.

“You good?” you teased as he struggled with the hooks.

“Do not laugh at me right now,” he grumbled. Finally, the clasp came undone, and he yanked the straps down your arms like his life counted on it.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, his hands immediately cupping you, warm and firm. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you feel like jelly in his hands, your skin not even covering the shivering. “You’re actually perfect. Like, what the hell?”

You were about to retort when he leaned forward and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast, and whatever witty comment you had died on your tongue.

Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you. “Counter,” he rasped, already moving to lift you.

But the universe had other plans. His elbow knocked into a mixing bowl on the counter, sending it clattering to the floor with a loud metallic crash. Both of you froze, eyes wide like kids caught sneaking snacks.

“Shit,” Jihoon whispered, glancing down at the bowl before meeting your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of him, breathy and slightly unhinged. “Okay, yeah. This is cursed. New location.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bathroom like it was some grand escape.

The bathroom light flicked on, and Jihoon speeded, it was the next room. He turned to you, his hands sliding up your sides, fingers brushing over the straps still hanging limply on your forearms. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less heated.

Instead of rushing, he dipped his head, his lips trailing down your shoulder as he pushed the straps down. The fabric fell away entirely, and his hands followed the motion, sliding down your body.

When you reached for his shirt, Jihoon smirked, pulling back just slightly. “Oh, you wanna do the honors?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you tugged the hem of his shirt up. He raised his arms, letting you peel it off him, the fabric catching on his mess of dark hair before dropping to the floor. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles as he watched you.

When it came to his pants, though, he grabbed your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his grin widening. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and drawers and pushed them down himself.

Your eyes dropped, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open slightly. “Wow,” you whispered, and he laughed, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours again.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Wait ‘til I’m inside you.”

You didn’t even try to stifle the shameless moan that ripped from your throat, loud and unrestricted. It sounded like something straight out of a porno, and Jihoon had the nerve to smirk. “Damn, we’re not even there yet… You like it when I talk with you like this?”

You nodded quickly, disoriented in the sense to say anything coherent. Jihoon smirked, leaning in to nip at your jawline before pulling back just enough to hook a finger into the waistband of your panties.

“Come nearer,” he whispered, tugging you forward by the elastic until your chest clashed against his. His nails grazed the skin just above the fabric, teasing the sensitive area before his hand dipped lower. He let the material slide over your hips, his knuckles brushing your skin as he pushed it down. When the panties reached your thighs, he let gravity do the rest, the fabric pooling around your ankles.

Jihoon’s hands immediately found your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing and setting you on the cool marble of the bathroom sink. The contrast between the chill of the counter and the heat of his body made you shiver, your legs instinctively closing.

“Uh-uh,” Jihoon said, his voice a frolicsome warning. His hands gripped your knees, spreading them apart again, wider this time. His gaze dropped, and his breath audibly caught as the light from the mirror illuminated you perfectly—your thighs trembling, your folds glistening, and the way your body clenched and unclenched in forethought.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his thumb brushing the inside of your thigh as if to test if you were real. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty down here. Like, actually unreal.”

Your face burned at his words, but before you could respond, his hand was back. His index finger dragged lightly through your folds, collecting your slick before circling your clit with a featherlight touch. Your eyes squeezed shut as your turned your head to the side, as if the sight of him would make you weaker.

“Jihoon,” you whined, your voice high-pitched and needy.

He grinned at that, his other hand bracing your hip to keep you from squirming away. “Patience.” he murmured.

His finger pressed more firmly against your clit now, rubbing infinite motions that made you rest your back on the mirror, instantly melting. Just as you felt the stimulus start to build, he stopped.

Your head snapped up, a frustrated groan leaving your lips. Jihoon only laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before pulling back again.

“What’s the rush?” he teased, his finger sliding lower to brush against your entrance but never pushing in. “We’ve got all night.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking toward his hand. His smirk widened, and he slid his finger back up, tapping lightly against your clit like he was testing how much more you could take.

“Jihoon! N-no!” you practically sobbed, your thighs trembling as you clenched around nothing.

“No…,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I want you shaking for me.”

He alternated his technique, sometimes circling your clit in lazy patterns, other times tapping. Each time you came close to your orgasm, he pulled back, leaving you swaying on the border.

Your breaths came out in short, shallow pants, and your hands gripped the counter so hard your knuckles started to hurt. “Please,” you begged, your voice breaking.

Jihoon leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “Just one more time.”

This time, he used two fingers, sliding them in a v-shape around your clit and moving them side to side in quick, ribbing motions. The sensation was unlike anything you’d felt before, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

“Shes so puffy already,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your cunt as he worked you over. “I can feel you shaking, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

You nodded desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yes—please, Jihoon, I can’t—”

Jihoon pulled his hand away, and you sobbed. Your chest heaved as frustration and desperation coiled tight inside you, tears welling in your eyes.

“Aww, baby,” Jihoon cooed, his voice a mocking singsong that somehow felt like a soothing balm and fuel to your fire at the same time. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a stray tear that slid down. “Look at you. So needy. You’re so wet already, and you think you’re ready for this?”

Your breath caught as he grabbed his cock, thick and glistening at the tip with precum, and let it rest heavy on your stomach. He tapped it against your skin, each tap leaving a sticky, wet line that trailed down to your bellybutton.

“See this?” Jihoon asked, his tone low but tinged with teasing. He shifted his hips, dragging the head of his cock up your stomach so you could feel its full length. “How do you think this is gonna fit, huh? You can’t even take my fingers without cumming. What makes you think this cock’s gonna slide right in?”

You blinked down at him, the weight of his cock against your belly making your head spin. It reached your bellybutton, almost too far, the swollen head ruddy and glistening like it was mocking you, daring you to try.

Jihoon’s gaze softened for a second as he caught the wobble in your lip and the glossy sheen of your tear-filled eyes. “God, you’re too cute,” he muttered, before his hand was back between your legs. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, cooing again as he pressed the pad of his finger to your entrance. “Guess I gotta get you nice and stretched out for me, hmm?”

You felt the slow, steady push of his finger as it slid inside you, every nerve brightening at the intrusion. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, and Jihoon let out a quiet groan.

“There we go,” He slid his finger in deeper, curling it slightly to press against your front wall. Your hips bucked at the sensation, and Jihoon smirked. “Right there, huh? You like that?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your hands scrambling for purchase on the cool marble.

His finger pulled back almost completely before sliding in again, this time with a second one alongside it. The stretch was immediate, but your body welcomed it, pulsing around him. Jihoon wasted no time, curling his fingers and dragging them against your walls in a way that made you see stars.

“God, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his free hand resting on your trembling thigh to keep you steady. “You’re squeezing me so good. Can’t wait to feel you clench like this around my cock.”

His fingers picked up a rhythm, alternating between deep, curling strokes and quick, shallow thrusts that kept you guessing. He started adding little motions that made your head spin—scissoring his fingers to stretch you further, pressing his thumb firmly against your clit while his fingers stayed inside, or twisting his wrist slightly to drag his fingertips over new spots.

“You like that?” he asked, after noticing your hand chasing his fingers. “Of course you do. Look at how you’re dripping for me. You’re making such a mess, baby.”

“Jihoon—o-oh my god,” you whimpered, your back arching off the counter as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

“Yeah? Right there?” Jihoon grinned, adjusting his angle to hit it again, harder this time. Your breath hitched, and he chuckled. “That’s it. So good for me.”

You couldn’t help it—the words tumbled out of your mouth in a whispered chant, your voice trembling with every syllable. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Jihoon smiled fondly at you, his cock twitching visibly against his stomach. “You’re so sweet when you beg,” he said, pulling his fingers out momentarily just to slide them back in with a delicious stretch. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

This time, he focused on your clit with his thumb, rubbing quick, tight circles as his fingers curled inside you. He replaced fast stimulation and sudden, devastating stops.

“Ngh—Please,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you gripped his forearm.

“You’re so close, hmm?”

He slowed his movements again, dragging his fingers out just enough to feel the way you clenched around him, desperate to keep him inside. His thumb moved in teasing patterns over your clit, never quite enough pressure to satisfy.

“I need it,” you choked out, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said, his tone softening again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before his fingers resumed their relentless pace, curling and pressing against that sweet spot again. “But you’re doing so good for me. Just a little more, okay?”

The coil in your stomach tightened impossibly further, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer. Jihoon seemed to sense it too. His fingers curling like they were made to be inside you, massaging your g’spot with a rhythm that felt borderline illegal. His thumb merely rubbed your clit now, just enough to make you twitch, and the devilish smirk on his face said he was doing it on purpose. His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you like he knew you’d collapse if he let go.

“Um—thats why your strawberry mille-feuille is so good,” you suddenly gasped out.

Jihoon blinked, momentarily confused before realization dawned on him. His lips curled into that sly, cocky grin. “Wait—are you thinking about my dessert skills right now? While I’m two knuckles deep inside you?”

You whined, too far gone to deny it. “You’re too good with your hands!”

He chuckled, curling his fingers harder until your knees buckled. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m versatile then, hm?” His tone was light, but his fingers? Ruthless. He angled his wrist slightly, hitting that spot with pinpoint correctness, and you swore your vision went static for a second.

Your body jerked, your clit grinding against the heel of his palm as he shifted his thumb to flick at it—just once, but it sent sparks shooting down your back. His fingers pushed deeper, scissoring slightly, then dragging out achingly slow. “Jihoon, please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his wrist.

“Please what, baby? Want me to keep going? Or stop again?” he teased, his thumb pressing down on your clit just to lift off a second later, leaving you sobbing into his shoulder.

You wanted to slap him and beg him all at once. Instead, you cried out, “Don’t stop—oh my god—Jihoon!”

His smirk faltered for a second when your walls clamped down hard around his fingers, and a rush of wetness coated them. His hips grinding involuntarily into nothing, his cock throbbing visibly. “Greedy little thing.”

You couldnt form words anymore, your head falling back as your whole body spasmed. you chanted his name, completely gone, tears stinging your eyes as the coil in your stomach snapped hard, the force of your orgasm smashing you.

Jihoon didn’t stop. His fingers worked you through every wave, his thumb pressing firm, messy circles on your overstimulated clit until you physically had to push at his chest. “Too much” you croaked, but your legs trembled so bad you knew you couldn’t get far if he decided to keep going.

“Too much?” he repeated. He slowly slid his fingers out, holding them up for both of you to see, glistening and soaked.

Jihoon still breathed heavily like he was the one being stimulated, giving you time to catch your breath, but you weren’t letting go. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you pulled him in, your lips pressing to his. His tongue slid against yours, massaging it in a way that sent heat straight to your sopping pussy. The sound of wet, sticky smacks echoed in the bathroom.

This kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was soft, and so heartbreakingly sweet. Jihoon’s hands roamed over your waist, and as much as he loved the way you tasted—loved the faint hint of the wine you’d shared earlier, the lingering sweetness that seemed to pour from your lips—there was something deeper about it.

Jihoon knew tastes. He knew them better than most people ever could.

He knew the tang of citrus, the buttery richness of a perfectly baked croissant, the smoky depth of roasted meat, and the way sugar could melt on your tongue like magic. He’d spent years chasing after flavors, crafting them into stories on a plate. But none of it, none of it, had ever come close to the taste of you.

It wasn’t just your lips or your skin—it was the whole experience of you. The warmth of your arms wrapped around him, the faint floral scent that clung to your hair, the way your body felt like home against his. If someone ever asked him, in an interview or at some fancy gala, what his favorite taste was, he already knew he’d be in trouble. Because he’d want to say “you.” And how could he not? You weren’t just a flavor; you were comfort food, the kind that nourished your soul in a way no recipe could replicate.

He pressed closer to you, losing himself in the feel of your lips, of your tongue stroking his with an intoxicating rhythm. You were both so caught up in each other that you didn’t even notice when he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. It wasn’t until the head of it nudged inside that you broke the kiss, gasping sharply as your chin fell forward, your moan feeling hot against his mouth.

“Jihoon—” you choked, and it made his stomach twist. He grinned against your lips, nasty and triumphant, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tilted his head back slightly to look at your face.

“You didn’t even notice, hm? So focused on kissing me good, you didn’t feel me slip in?”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Jihoon’s grin only grew wider, so big it almost felt boyish, but there was nothing innocent about the way his hips pressed forward, inch by inch.

Your walls clenched instinctively and then gave way, molding around his girth. You tilted your head down just enough to catch a glimpse, and the sight alone made your stomach tense.

The thin, glossy skin of your folds was stretched taut around him, clinging desperately as if your body didn’t want to let go. The contrast was stark, almost hypnotizing: the way your wetness coated him, leaving a shiny trail that dripped down, pooling at the base where your pussy tried to hug. He followed your gaze to glance down between you, his lips parting in disbelief.

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well..” He shifted slightly, pressing a little deeper, and yyour vision blurred.

Your head fell back against the mirror as you moaned, your chest heaving.

He cut you off with a slow roll of his hips, his cock pushing further, stretching you impossibly more. You gasped, your nails dragging down his shoulders as your body tried to adjust. “That’s my girl. Thought you could handle it.”

The slick sounds between you were filthy, echoing in the shadowy bathroom. You couldn’t stop the way your hips shifted, trying to meet him halfway despite the stretch. The movement made him groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he pressed you back against the marble sink.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he said, his voice almost a whine as his eyes flicked to where your bodies were joined. “You’re gonna ruin this counter... the floor..”

Your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper, and the motion earned a sharp intake of breath from Jihoon.

His cock pulsed inside you, the wet heat of your walls squeezing him like a vice, clenching around every inch he gave you. His teeth caught his bottom lip as he pulled back just slightly, dragging against your sensitive core before thrusting back in. He wanted to watch you unravel, to hear every desperate sound spilling from your lips.

His hands slid from your hips to your thighs, pushing your legs wider to take him deeper. He paused to glance between you again, mesmerized by the way you swallowed him whole. “Can’t believe this tight little pussy’s taking all of me.”

You whimpered at his words, the sound shamelessly loud in the quiet bathroom, and it sent a quiver down his back. He smiled satisfied, as he leaned in, his lips brushing over your ear. “You like it when I talk to you like that, hm?” he teased, his tongue flicking over your earlobe before he nipped it lightly. “Tell me. Tell me how much you like it.”

“I—fuck—I love it,” you stammered. Your nails scraped down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake. “Love when you—when you talk to me like that. Love—oh my god—love when you’re inside me.”

“Yeah?” His thrusts slowed again, almost unbearably so, the head of his cock pressing against your g’spot with each measured roll of his hips. He let his forehead drop to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he grinned. He changed his angle slightly, shifting his hips just enough to hit a spot that sent fireworks exploding behind your eyes. The slick, wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you filled the room, mingling with the gasps and moans you couldn’t hold back.

Your head fell back, hitting the mirror with a soft thud, and Jihoon chuckled, his lips brushing over the curve of your jaw.

“Careful, baby,” he said, massaging your scalp with a care that made you lean on it. “Can’t have you breaking the mirror just ‘cause I’m fucking you so good.”

Your laugh came out breathless, cut off by a sharp gasp as he suddenly pressed harder on your clit. “Jihoon, please—”

“Please, what?” His thrusts slowed again, torturously so, and he pulled back just enough to make you whine in protest. His fingers tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he watched you with dark, hooded eyes. Your hands slid to his neck, clinging to him desperately. “Please, gonna cum.”

“You want me to fuck you harder? You want me to make you cum all over my cock, baby? Say it..”

“Want you to fuck me—ngh,” you rolled your eyes. “Want you to fuck me harder. Make me cum, Jihoon. Please.”

“So wet. God, I could fuck you all night. Don’t think I’d ever get enough of you.” Your walls clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he struggled to keep his pace steady. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing it.”

“Then cum,” you whispered insistent. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your lips brushed over his ear. “Cum for me, Jihoon.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing faster, rougher that you thought that your sink wouldnt handle it. But even as he pushed you closer to the edge, his focus never wavered. “I—shit—I need to make you come first. I have to, baby.”

You shook your head violently, your own orgasm already clawing at the edge of your sanity. “No—no, I’m so close, Jihoon,” you gaspedr. “Just—just keep going, don’t stop—please—”

His hips jerked at your words, his cock twitching deep inside you as his body teetered on the brink of losing control. His thrusts slowed further, unsteady and disjointed as his thumb continued to draw tight, firm circles on your swollen clit.

“You feel so fucking good,” your voice sounded sultry and wrecked, your eyes locking onto his. “So deep—so fucking thick. Jihoon, I can feel you in my stomach. You’re so big, you’re gonna ruin me, baby. Do it. Come inside me. Fill me up.”

That did it.

The sound Jihoon let out wasn’t even human—a choked, strangled mix of a moan and a curse that hit its peak as his body shuddered violently. “Oh—shit—ah, fuck, fuck—!” His cock pulsed hard, the first spurt of his cum hitting so deep inside you that you felt it bloom with warmth against your cervix. You swore you could feel each throb as he came, his hips snapping forward instinctively to bury himself even further, his moans blending into desperate gasps. “Ah—hah—baby—!”

The heat, the pressure, the way his orgasm filled every inch of you—it all tipped you over the edge, dragging you into your own release. Your walls clenched around him, milking him for everything he had as you cried out, “Jihoon—fuck—yes—!”

You arched into him, your hips lifting slightly off the counter to grind against his cock, riding the quakes as your climax ruptured through you. The movement made Jihoon gasp, his hands flying to your hips to still you. “A-ah—fuck—stop—baby, stop—hah—ah, shit—!” His voice cracked as he groaned, overstimulation evident in the way he hissed through gritted teeth. “T-too much—oh my god—aw, fuck—!”

Jihoon’s laughter broke through his moans, a breathless, disbelieving chuckle that melted into another string of curses as he shuddered beneath you.

Finally, you stilled, your body collapsing into his as your head dropped to his shoulder. Both of you were trembling, your breaths ragged and uneven, your hearts pounding in sync.

The room settled into a quiet purr after the chaos. The bathroom was small, its muted light casting soft shadows on the tiles. But in this moment, it might as well have been the biggest place in the world, holding all the unsaid things between you, the weight of your shared history pressing down like a furry coat.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Jihoon asked suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to dig this deep. He looked at you then, his eyes more serious, like he was searching for something in your face.

You laughed, a small, shaky sound. “You mean when you accused me of stealing your recipe for strawberry shortcake at the first days of competition? Yeah, hard to forget.”

His lips quirked up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “God, I was such an asshole,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t even taste it. Just saw your name on the board and thought, ‘Oh, great. Another rich kid with connections, swooping in to take what I’ve worked my whole life for.’”

You frowned, your fingers twitching where they rested on his chest. “You really thought that?”

“I didn’t know you,” he admitted, his tone apologetic. “I was so used to fighting for every little thing, you know? Scholarships, internships, a spot on the team—hell, even a secondhand stand mixer. And then you walked in, all… pretty and shiny. I just assumed you’d never struggled for anything in your life.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. Because yeah, he wasn’t wrong—you hadn’t grown up worrying about money or how you’d pay for school. But you’d struggled in other ways, ways that people like Jihoon—driven, hyper-focused, and painfully independent—might not have seen.

“That’s not fair,” you said softly. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Just because I didn’t have to fight for a secondhand mixer doesn’t mean I haven’t fought for other things.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that now.”

The quiet between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… cogitative. Like you were both sifting through the memories, pulling them out one by one to examine under the bathroom light.

“The NGO,” you said suddenly, your voice intruding upon the silence. “That’s when everything changed.”

Jihoon nodded, his hands still on your waist, his fingers tightening slightly. “Yeah. When I saw what you were doing—what the competition money was for—I felt like shit. Here I was, thinking you were just some spoiled kid looking for another trophy to add to the shelf, and you were… Something that important.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “It wasn’t just me. It was all of us—Fred, the kids, you. God, Jihoon, you don’t even realize how much you’ve done for this place.”

He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know about that. I just… I wanted to help. And honestly, it was selfish at first. I needed a job, and you offered one. But then…”

“Then you fell in love with it.” The journey from strangers to colleagues to whatever this was had been anything but smooth. It had been messy and painful but it had also been beautiful in its own way. “I hated you, you know,” you said suddenly. “At the beginning, I mean. You were so… cold. And I thought, ‘How the hell am I supposed to work with someone who looks like he’d rather set the kitchen on fire than have a conversation with me?’”

He laughed, a genuine sound that softened the strain in the room. “Yeah, I hated you too. Thought you were this privileged, clueless brat who’d never survive a day in a real kitchen.”

“And now?”

“And now…” he bit his lip, analyzing your face as he tilts his head. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Jihoon…”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “You’re… you’re my favorite taste, you know? Out of everything I’ve ever made, ever eaten, ever dreamed of tasting—you’re the one thing I’ll never get enough of.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your heart swelling in your chest. “That’s cheesy as hell.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, his lips quirking up into a small, shy smile. “Sometimes the truth is cheesy.”

Jihoon’s smile faltered just a bit. “Sometimes, though… I wonder if you really forgave me. Like, deep in your heart.”

You blinked, stunned by the sudden shift, and searched his face for more. His brows were slightly furrowed, his jaw tight, like the weight of the question had been pressing on him for longer than he cared to confess.

“Forgave you?”

“For the way I acted back then,” he said, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “The way I doubted you. The things I said, the things I did, the things I thought. I mean… I know we’ve moved past it. But deep down, I’ve always wondered if there’s a part of you that still holds onto it. That maybe you… couldn’t fully forgive me.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I did,” you said firmly. “I forgave you, Jihoon.”

He tilted his head, skepticism flickering across his features. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I don’t blame you for it anymore,” you said, leaning into him slightly, needing him to understand. “At that time, I had this picture in my head of what my life was supposed to look like. The glamorous Michelin-starred restaurant, the prestige, the accolades… It was all I wanted.”

“And I ruined it.”

“No,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything. If anything, you gave me something better.”

His eyes searched yours, still unconvinced. “But what if… what if I hadn’t? What if I hadn’t been so bitter, so determined to take you down? What if your dessert had won anyway?”

You paused, the weight of the question settling between you. “Or what if I’d won, Jihoon? What if I’d walked away with the title and the prestige and never thought about anything else? What if the organization never existed because I was too busy chasing some dream that wasn’t even mine anymore?”

He frowned at that, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You think… things were meant to happen this way?”

��I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I’d rather believe that they were. That everything—every fight, every misstep, every moment we wanted to strangle each other—led us here. To this.”

Jihoon let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You always were the optimistic one.”

“Not always,” you said with a small smile. “But I am about this. About us. About what we’ve built together.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested on your hips. “You know… I think about it sometimes. The restaurant, I mean. How it’s under new management now. How I used to dream about a place like that—sleek, modern, perfect. And then I look at what we’ve done with the organization, and it’s… messy and chaotic, but so beautifull. Like it actually matters.”

“It does matter… And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the restaurant was never supposed to be our story. Maybe this is.”

He looked at you then, something shining in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said, your lips curving into a gentle smile. “Because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have the kids, the bakery, the messes we can’t clean up without three people and a prayer.”

He chuckled at that. “The messes are your fault, you know. You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to teach a bunch of middle schoolers how to make éclairs.”

You grinned, leaning into him. “And you’re the one who decided to teach them soufflés.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft. “Well played.”

As you looked at him—messy hair, tired eyes, and a softness in his expression that you rarely saw—you felt something settle in your chest.

“Jihoon,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

— // Two Years Later // —

The NGO was quieter than usual. You noticed it the moment you stepped inside. Normally, the kitchen buzzed with the chaos of kids laughing, mixing ingredients, and occasionally bickering over who got to use the electric mixer. But today, there was an eerie calm.

“Hello?” you called out, setting your bag down on the counter. The faint scent of something baking lingered in the air, but it wasn’t enough to mask the odd tension. “Where is everyone?”

You wandered into the main hall, expecting to see at least Jihoon with his clipboard, corralling the kids into some elaborate baking lesson. Instead, the room was empty save for a lone piece of paper taped to the center of one of the tables.

“Come to the garden.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The garden? The small plot out back that you and Jihoon had transformed into a herb and flower garden over countless weekends?

Curious, you made your way outside, the warm sunlight spilling over the neatly trimmed rows of basil and lavender. At first glance, the garden seemed empty too, until you heard the faint giggle of one of the kids.

“Okay, who’s hiding?” you called out, scanning the area.

Suddenly, the kids burst out from behind the hedges, each holding a small bouquet of flowers, their faces lit with excitement. “Surprise!” they shouted in unison, running toward you and handing you the mismatched bundles.

“What is this?” you asked, laughing as you tried to catch all the flowers being shoved into your arms.

But before anyone could answer, Jihoon appeared at the edge of the garden, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He was dressed neatly, his usually casual outfit swapped for a crisp white shirt and a pair of dark slacks. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his lips quirked up in a nervous smile as he approached.

“Jihoon?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

The kids scrambled to the side, forming a small semi-circle as Jihoon stepped closer. He stopped just in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You always said this garden was your favorite place,” he began. “You said it’s where you felt the most at peace, where everything feels real. So I thought it was the perfect place to do this.”

Your heart raced as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Yah… What are you doing Jihoon-ah?,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He dropped to one knee, the kids giggling in soft gasps and excited murmurs. “I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how I got so lucky. How someone as stubborn and chaotic as me ended up with someone as kind and brilliant as you. And honestly? I still don’t know.”

You laughed softly, tears already welling in your eyes.

“But what I do know… is that I don’t want to spend another day without you. You changed my life, and you keep changing it, every single day. So…” He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring with a big, oval, sparkling diamond. “Will you marry me?”

The kids broke out into cheers before you could even process what was happening. Your hands flew to your mouth as you nodded quickly, too swamped to speak. Jihoon’s grin spread wide as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yes,” you finally managed to say, your voice muffled against his buff chest. “Of course, yes.”

The kids swarmed around you both, cheering and hugging as Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple. “I had a lot of help,” he admitted with a soft laugh, gesturing toward the group. “They’re surprisingly good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, I can’t believe you pulled this off,” you said, laughing through your tears as you looked down at the ring.

“I had to,” Jihoon said, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I wanted to give you a moment as perfect as you’ve made my life.”

The kids had prepared cupcakes with little fondant hearts on top, and the staff brought out bottles of sparkling cider to toast the two of you. Jihoon never left your side, his hand warm and steady in yours, his smile never fading.

As the sun set over the garden, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you leaned into Jihoon’s side, the ring catching the last rays of light.

He tilted his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “You know, I was thinking,” he started, “when we’re, like, seventy or something, do you think we’ll still be able to handle all the chaos the kids bring?”

You snorted a laugh, turning to face him fully. “Seventy? Jihoon, I’m not even sure we’re handling it well now.”

He laughed with you. “What happens when we’re too old to keep up with their energy? You know they’re just going to keep multiplying, right? They bring their friends, their siblings, their cousins… It’s like a never-ending kid buffet in there.”

You shook your head, leaning into his side. “First of all, let’s not talk about being seventy when we just got engaged. Can I at least have a honeymoon phase before we’re planning for wheelchairs and dentures?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that naughty smirk. “Honeymoon~?” he drawled.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the grin tugging at your lips.

“And you’re stuck with me now,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows before leaning back, the smirk still firmly in place. “So, where are we going for this so-called honeymoon? Somewhere romantic? Tropical? Or do you just want to stay in and let me make you dinner—while wearing nothing but an apron?”

fanfic inspiration by @thepoopdokyeomtouched thank you for giving me the motivation to write this fic! you're the sweetener to my blog's flavor. wishing you all the best this holiday season!

649 notes · View notes

star--stilinski · 30 days ago

Note

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

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r-eatyourfriends-n · 6 months ago

Text

Collide | l.hs 이희승 | pt. 1

best friend!heesung x best friend!reader

READ PT2 HERE

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation (sort of?), nipple play, heesung is cocky but only for a bit, no use of "y/n". It got sort of fluffy at the end?

synopsis: you've been having hookups for a while, but none of them have been memorable, much less good, so heesung decided you change that. Although his intentions might not be 100% pure.

wc: 5k.

a/n: this is by far not my first smut (it's literally all I write lol) but I've never posted for the enhypen fandom although I've been delusional about heesung and jake for a good while now. I have decided to break my silence. pls let me know if there are any mistakes and for sure let me know if you liked it! I actually quite enjoyed writing this as I began working on part two as soon as I finished. Also English is not my first language, I'm certain I revised this enough to avoid any grammar mistakes but thought I'd give y'all the heads up.

You arrived at Heesung's apartment late that night, just like you had warned him that you would. Given that your last date's place was near Heesung's, he had offered you to come over after your night out so that you didn't have to take a cab home. He said he'd be up playing anyway since it was a Friday night.

When you knocked, he had stood by his word. It took a few knocks and missed calls but eventually, the door opened, showing Heesung in a plain white tshirt and grey sweatpants. He welcomed you with a gentle smile, quiet as the noise rang through his headset. You nodded at him in acknowledgement and he took a step to the side to let you in.

As usual, you left your things on the couch. You signaled towards his bathroom and he nodded again, then left you alone to finish his game. You took a towel from his closet and one of his longer shirts and headed to the shower, head hanging low, letting the water run down your body when you stepped in, standing still under it, eyes closed.

Your date had been a mess.

The guy was nice; he held up to the bare minimum requirements of kindness and politeness, he payed for the bill even when you insisted for him to at least let you split it. Then he held your arm and guided you to his car like a true gentleman, where he took you to his house, layed you on his bed, and gave you the most boring, cunt-drying head and sex of your life. It felt criminal, really, that a man so handsome and well put together was such a boring and dull fuck. But there he had been, dirty blond hair parted to the side, stuck to his forehead as he sweat and heaved like a fucking pig white fucking into you, paying no mind to what you were feeling, only chasing his high.

Heesung, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about the look on your face when you stepped inside. Nor could he stop thinking about the marks that he hoped to god would be gone by morning, or your messy hair and out of place clothes, and the fact that you were willing to pull through with the plan of going to his apartment instead of staying with the guy. He picked you up, fucked you poorly (most likely), and couldn't even drive you somewhere else?

Ever since you became confident enough to put yourself out there, you've had quire the few hookups, which was unsurprising to Heesung. You were pretty, charming, and kind, and he saw those things every day. However, heesung wasn't stupid. He knew that at the end of the day, there was a good reason as to why men overall didn't have a good reputation during sex. And Heesung was someone who would love to show you a good time, but he didn't want to lose you over it.

He dreamed of it. Fantasized about it so many times— about all the ways in which he would fuck you, so good that no one else could even compare. To have you come back to him each time you even so much as think about trying to sleep with some other guy that isn't him. He'd give you the slow, teasing version of it first, taking his sweet time with each and every inch of skin until you were shaking just from the mere anticipation of feeling his cock push in, dragging out the pleasure in slow waves, praising you for enduring such intense feelings. Make you feel so good you'd cry.

If you wanted, Heesung could be rough, too. Bend you over every single piece of furniture of his apartment and yours. In his car as well, he would be lying if he said he never imagined putting you on your hands and knees on the backseat of his car whenever he picked you up from a party; have claw at the leather and leave your mark on it. Park somewhere dark and let you ride him on the driver's seat.

To be quite frank, it drove him crazy; to know that you were in his bathroom— naked in his house, and he couldn't just walk in and press you against the wall, ready to hold your weight when your knees begin to shake and buckle.

Heesung shook his thoughts away, going back to his game and trying to act normal. He unmuted himself to yell at Jake and Yeonjun, who were performing even worse than him. As they went quiet again, he heard the water stop and the bathroom door open. Your reflection appeared on his second monitor, your hair in somewhat of a low ponytail over your shoulder with a few strands on the front. Some parts of your body were clearly still damp, and his shirt stuck where there were still drops of water gathering on your skin. Heesung licked his lips, desperate to end the game and go to you, who layed comfortably on his bed, scrolling through your phone with a cold expression.

You sighed while you stared holes into Heesung's stiff back and shoulders. You showed up to his apartment knowing that he was going to be gaming with his friends, but a part of you still hoped that he would've dropped everything for like he had done sometimes, especially since today had been particularly frustrating. Still, you waited for him, just rather impatiently.

He didn't bother to say goodbye to his boys, he only turned off his computer and took his headphones off, rubbing at his red and sore ears. He turned on his chair and smiled.

“I'm done.”

“Did you win?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heesung shook his head. “I wasn't focusing.” He shrugged. “How bad was it?"

“How'd you know it was bad?"

“You're here, aren't you?” He chuckled.

Your shoulders dropped in defeat, quietly admitting your best friend was right. Heesung's eyes softened, displaying pity as your hands came up to rub your face, leaving a red trail of pure frustration.

“He was so handsome and sweet,” You groaned into your palms. “But he barely even kissed me, or touched me.”

He gritted his teeth, eyes landing on the small, purplish spots on your neck. “You're all marked up though,” he said, trying not to let his jealousy seep into his words.

“I practically had to beg him to do anything,” you admitted, embarassed that those words even came out of your mouth.

Begged?, Heesung thought, you had to beg a random guy to do what he had been dying to do to you? He scratched at the back of his neck.

“I don't know where you keep finding these scumbags.” He stood up, walking towards the bed to sit next to you.

“Maybe they're all scumbags and I should give up, because I didn't even get to finish.”

Heesung pressed his lips together, making a thin line. He tried to think about what to say next, but words were out of his mouth before he could consider all outcomes.

“Do you still want to?”

“Want to what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, confused.

“Come,” he responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you still want to come?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, your body beggining to deter from his gaze. Neither of you had ever been shy about discussing sex, or each other's sex lives—though he was much more reserved about it than you were—, but something in the atmosphere made you nervous. Something in his tone as the words came out of his mouth, something about heesung saying those words to you.

You huffed. “Well, who doesn't, right?”

His pupils were blown out in an instant. “Then let me help you.”

“Help me what?” you rolled your eyes at him, exasperated. Although he wasn't being as cryptic as you perceived him, you were just in a bad mood.

Heesung just shrugged. “Come,” he repeated, leaning closer to you. “Let me make you come.”

The whole world stopped for you, or at least that's what it felt like. Your face contorted, a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind.

Yes, it was your best friend, who you barely recognized at the moment. But you would be lying if you said his words didn't have an effect on you, his offer making you shiver. Still, you had some level of skepticism because again, he was your best friend.

“Stop playing, I'm not in the mood.” Was all you managed to push out, not feeling like being teased.

Unable to back down now —or not wanting to—, heesung took a deep breath.

“Do I look like I'm playing?”

You turn to face him, and looked for a hint, or even such as a glimpse of him being the teasing asshole that he had always been, however, he never faltered. If anything, he seemed impatient for an answer.

“I think you deserve to know what a good night feels like,” He continued.

“You think you're good?” You scoffed mockingly, already feeling your body heating up at his promises. A good night? Yes, you were in desperate need of one of those. It was nothing Heesung wasn't already aware of.

“I know I am,” he smirked.

His confidence set off something inside of you. If it turned out that he was all talk, then, you'll be damned, because god, did he know how to talk. Not only using his words, but also his whole body, as he leaned foward to press his face closer to yours. Had he always been like this or were you just noticing?

For the time you had known Heesung, you never knew him for one to sleep and mess around. He was a flirt, sure, he loved to lean in during parties to make the women around him flustered. More often than not, he would brush past them with a hand on their waist and watched as they blushed, but despite his good looks and undeniable charisma, you've never heard about him constantly hooking up, nor doing it often like you did.

Regardless, wether it was seldom or not, Heesung fucked. It was a fact, even if it seemed like he was too busy gaming and working, he had managed to fit some fun time in his packed schedule of work hours and consoles. You couldn't deny you've heard about him, given that he had unknowingly slept with two of your coworkers. It wasn't something you told him, and until this very day, he was still unaware of the fact.

But you were very aware of what had been said about him, because you heard them discuss in great detail about how good the sex had been. They had talked about everything, from the size of his cock to how he knew how to eat out a woman—and how good he looked doing it—, how many times they came and what not. It had been weird to hear about how good your best friend was in bed, but you still grew curious, dying to know if the rumours were true, and if he was the well built roman sex god they made him out to be.

He was your best friend, yes (how many times had you said it already?). Still, you weren't blind nor stupid, you could see how gorgeous he was, how hot he looked, having been flustered by him one too many times. Certain feelings harvested in you that you had pushed to the side, thinking that you would bully them away by telling yourself than a friend who just so happened to be stupidly handsome. And you had managed quite well, that until today, with Heesung infront of you, willing to give you what you wanted.

Would the sex outweigh any possible bad outcomes that may come from hooking up with the person you trust the most? Only time would tell.

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling shy under his impatient gaze.

He reached out his hand, softly cupping your chin. His thumb caressed your jawline.

“I'll be gentle.”

Your brows furrowed. “I'm not a virgin, Heesung.”

“Do you need to be a virgin for that?” He laughed, dumbfounded by your words. “Just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

Promises, promises, promises. “Are you all talk or do I have to beg you too?”

Heesung smirked. “Don't give me ideas.”

Any hesitation any of you might have still had vanished the minute your lips pressed together. Heesung moved slowly, almost forcing you to follow his lead and you obliged, sighing into the kiss. You held his nape to pull him closer, it was the only thing he let you do. He allowed you to guide him on top of you, and you spread your legs so that he could settle himself between them to kiss you deeper.

His tongue pushed against yours without a warning and you whimpered. Just the kissing had your heart threatening to shoot a hole into your chest from the inside out. Heesung had inviting lips for sure, but god, did he know how to use them.

You were desperate to have him touch you but still whined and protested when his mouth began to make its way down, stopping by your neck first, biting just below your jawline. Your hands trembled, trying to find something to hold on to until you figured the best thing to sink your nails into were his shoulders.

Heesung loved it, to know his skin would welcome anything your body gave. So mesmerized by the way you reacted to his touches, so receptive and sensitive to him. He couldn't believe it yet, that he had you on his bed, kissing you breathless.

Your back arched into him when he sucked on the skin, making sure to leave more visibly, longer lasting marks over the ones you already had. He watched as your skin became stained with a darker purple, his cock throbbing at the sight; at the thought of seeing you on his clothes, your body littered in his marks.

He raised your shirt over your breasts. You reached for the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head to give him more space to do what he wanted more comfortably. He stopped you immediately, though.

“I wanna fuck you in my shirt,” he confessed, trying not to show his desperation.

His words almost were enough to make you moan, and you realised you weren't turned off by the idea of being owned in some way, especially if it was Heesung who did. Or perhaps you were just incredibly horny, and he had started to play with one of your nipples between his fingers, the other one going into his mouth.

With your hand gripping his head tightly, you pushed him towards your chest. He swirled his tongue around the bud in acknowledgement of your actions, which made you buck your hips up in an attempt to get some sort of friction. You could feel your panties sticking to your skin, was it normal to be this wet just from kissing?

It was probably how it should have been with your date, or with any of the other guys you had slept with. But only you had managed to get yourself to that state, alone in your room with your fingers, and now Heesung with his skilled mouth licking and swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, his hips pressed against your cunt to keep you from squirming or pressing your legs together. You took the opportunity to grind yourself against him, feeling the outline of his already hard cock on your shorts. The whine he let out was long and needy.

“Heesung,” you moaned, nudging at his shoulder to push him away. “More.”

Heesung's knees buckled at your pleads.

“Beg a little more, baby.” He instructed. He pressed a soft kiss between your breasts, where a drop of sweat had begun to roll down. “Say my name again.”

Heesung found himself hypnotized by the way you moaned out his name. The way you tried to shove him down to get him to go between your legs just made him want to tease you more.

“heesung please, please, fuck—,” you babbled. “God, stop teasing me.”

“No god here, just me,” Heesung smirked at you.

Thankfully, what you said had been enough. He made his way down slowly, ghosting his hands over your waist as he directed his kisses from your abdomen until his lips met the hem of your shorts. He pushed them to the side and stared at your white panties now turned transparent from the wetness. And he almost couldn't believe it was for him. A bunch of thoughts passed through his mind that he didn't dare to voice; how he had wanted this for so long, how he was hoping you would come to your senses and realize how much better he was than all the other guys you had gone out with. How he hoped this would absolutely ruin you, and make you feel like you will never find something out there that could compete. The thought of this possibly being a one time thing, and that you could run off to some other douchebag was nauseating.

He offered himself up expecting that, by the end of the night, he'll own you.

It wasn't something that he wanted to keep thinking about. All he wanted was to hear more of your pretty sounds. You gasped when he yanked down your shorts, leaving on your underwear just to mess with you and make you desperate for him. He glided his thumb over your cunt, occasionally putting pressure on your clit but never quite staying there. Your legs and hips twitched, your pathetic attempt to guide his finger. Loud moans and whines kept pouring from your lips as you tried to get him where you wanted.

“Have any of those assholes ever gone down on you?” he asked, sort of absent.

Had they? You weren't really sure. Sometimes they would kiss between your legs, a few licks here and there before they pushed their cock in, but never like what your friends have told you it was like. Jealousy burbled in your stomach whenever you heard them talk about it— the unimaginable pleasure, the look on the man's face he ate them out like his life depended on it. You have had a glimpse, a very bad one, but you had almost felt what it was like. However, at the end of the day, it was mostly you on your knees with your mouth stuffed.

Ultimately, you decided to tell him exactly that. “Yeah, but not really. It's usually me who does.”

Heesung clicked his tongue, completely displeased by your answer. It pissed him off, sort of, at least enough to pull your panties down and finally beginning to live up to his promise. He flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, to which your body immediately reacted, forcing a whimper out of you.

His hands forced your legs open as far as they would go, taking full control, leaving you defenseless under his relentless mouth and tongue. Same tongue he pushed inside you, thrusting it into your hole, feeling you squeeze him. The way your walls tightened around his tongue turned him impatient, dying to get that same feeling on his cock. But you were his priority right now, and he would have time to feel you soon enough.

The orgasm that you had been longing for since you accepted your date felt closer than ever, with heesung's nose hitting your clit, and his tongue moving inside you. He then reached up to suck on your clit that kept getting more and more swollen the more his lips would close around it, rolling his tongue over it. As he kept playing with it, he teased his finger on your entrance, gathering your slick on it and sliding it in with little to no effort, your body welcoming him instantly. He found himself stretching you further in no time, slowly pushing in a second finger and curling both of them.

“Feel good baby?” he mumbled. It was uncommon for him to ask those types of questions, since he would rather have girls show him. But from you, he wanted to hear it, he needed to hear it.

The question almost sounded stupid in your ears.

“So fucking good,” you breathed out. “So fucking close.”

All of the rumours were true, and Heesung absolutely looked hot pleasuring a woman, smiling to himself, looking drunk and fucked out just from it, his only goal to have you finish thanks to him. He was good, exactly like he said he was, making your eyes roll back, a thing you had only thought possible in porn, and just by using his mouth. And he still had yet to fuck you.

The pace of his fingers and tongue quickened, your moans got louder along with it. Edging you was something he considered, feeling you so close, having the power to just stop all at once and leave you hanging.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you before he could make a decision, and fuck if it wasn't one of the hottest things he had ever witnessed; how your back arched and your feet lift off of the bed as the highest peak of pleasure you had ever felt invaded your body in waves, body convulsing onto his hand in time with the loud, borderline screams of his name. It had gotten to the point you had to kick at his shoulders for him to pull away, sensations quickly turning painful.

If that's how you were gonna feel on his cock, he was certain that he was not going to last long.

“Shit, Heesung, that was—”

"I'm not done with you, sweetheart,” he interrupted. “I barely just started.” He chuckled, begging to pull down his sweatpants, revealing the wet patch of precum on his underwear. “Look what you did to me.”

Your eyes never stopped following his hands as he hooked his fingers om his boxers to finally free his cock from being smothered by the fabric, standing proudly against his abdomen, heavy. Something in your stomach fluttered with a twisted exciment of what was about to happen, especially when he wrapped his hand around it to stroke it slowly, almost teasing himself.

And you let him, watching him try to relieve himself; his mouth open, panting, so focused on aliviating his arousal that he almost forgot you were there. That until both of your eyes met, the atmosphere in the room getting heavier by the minute

Heesung stopped moving his hand. “Come spit on it, baby,” he instructed. “Get it ready.”

A breath got stuck in your throat at his words. That hadn't been the nastiest thing you heard, you had been said and called way worse. But the way he look and sounded while he made his request, knelt in front of you, hair out of place and lips dark pink and glossy from eating you out made him look and sound so utterly dirty, so much so that your body reacted way before you did, already crawling to him before he could finish that sentence fully.

You looked straight into his eyes as you opened your moth, a long string of saliva falling from your tongue in slow motion until it met the head of his cock. He looked right back at you as he spread it across his length. Heesung muttered curse after curse as you laid back down, and was quick to settle himself between your legs once more.

His tip pressed against your entrance, and you felt the stretch almost immediately, hissing and putting your hand on stomach as a reflex. He held your wrist gently, used his grip to pull your hand up to his face, pressing a soft kiss on your palm. His eyes fluttered shut as your warm skin came into contact with his lips. And when you moved to cup his cheek, he leaned into the touch instantly. You began to tease his bottom lip, running your thumb over it, and as he sunk himself even further, he caught it between his teeth, gently grazing them against your semilong nails, until he finally closed his mouth around it. He hummed.

It took Heesung a while to bottom out inside you, and you moaned and whined all the way through it; from the pain of being stretched open and from the pleasure of being stretched open. He moaned as well, as his hips met your pelvis, with your walls fluttering around his cock. His thoughts were going at a thousand miles, all of them screaming at him to really, really fuck you into the mattress. But he stayed put for the sake of your enjoyment, he had promised you a good night and he was going to drag it out as much as he could for your and his enjoyment.

Still with your thumb between his lips, he began to slowly move his hips, barely pulling out before pushing back in to get you used to his girth. You gripped his bicep with your free hand, scratching down on his skin until the sting started to dissipate. You took notice of the way he held his breath as the speed began to increase, moaning and groaning when you squeezed him in.

It was dizzying, how you felt him everywhere. In your hand, with his moans vibrating on your palm; inside you as he dragged his cock, barely managing to pull out an inch before diving back in, pressing himself against you as much as he could so that he was fully settled inside your walls. Due to his cocky attitude, you didn't take him for the type of guy to be vocal. But there he was, whining louder and louder, almost uncontrollably, and that only turned you on more. The fact that you, too, were making him feel good and he was not afraid to show it.

You weren't usually this pliant and submissive, preferring to put up a little bit of a fight, managing to make guys submit to you instead as you took the lead. With Heesung, though, it was different, whether it was because was mesmerizing or because you had never felt such heightened pleasure, it was clear that he had control from the moment he got closer to you before he made his offer. And you could take control, probably, but you didn't want to. You wanted Heesung to do the work, to prove himself.

Which he was, taking on a pleasurable rhythm that had you moaning louder than him. One of his hands found the plush of your hips and gripped onto it for leverage to angle himself. The other one traveled from your chest all the way down to your clit, rubbing messy circles with his thumb, making you throw your head back into the pillows, along with a cry of his name.

The echo of his skin hitting against yours fueled him. Heesung didn't know where he should be looking at, if at your beautifully contorted face, with your eyes closed shut and your lips parted, or down, to where a white ring of your slick began to sorround the base of his cock each time he pulled out, noises growing increasingly wetter.

“You're driving me fucking insane,” he grunted.

There was no response from you, only whines of pleasure as you neared your second release. His thumb circled faster, not too hard, but enough to send all of your senses into overdrive, encouraging you to reach your climax, dying to know if you'd feel as good on his cock as you did on his fingers. And although he was dying to kiss you, he held back his urges just to see your face as you came, with your legs closing around his waist, your body slightly convulsing off the bed. It was nothing short of delightful.

You attempted to catch your breath, but heesung didn't give you time to process your intense orgasm as he flipped you onto your stomach. He pressed your cheek into the mattress and accommodated your lower half as he pleased. You were barely able to hold your ass up in the air for him, your knees weak as he entered you again. Only then did you register that you had come twice already, but had yet to see or feel a single drop from him.

“You are fucking insane,” you groaned, teary eyed.

He chuckled, movements coming to a halt. “I made you come twice and you still complain? Tsk. Greedy.” He dug his nails into your hips, making you wince. “Sorry you're tired, but it's my turn now.”

With that, his thrusts resumed, opting for a quicker, rougher pace than before, clearly turning a bit more selfish and now after his own release. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, making you press yourself back onto him to meet him halfway, chasing the sensation despite the pang of pain from having orgasmed so recently.

Heesung leaned down to bite onto your shoulder, in the pace where his tshirt wouldn't cover, making sure to engrave his teeth into your skin, hoping the next man you tried to sleep with would be turned off by the markings. He let go when you complained, kissing and licking onto it instead, whispering more soft apologies, although both of you knew that he wasn't sorry at all.

After a while his thrusts became more erratic, losing any pacing he tried to maintain. The grip on your hips was bruising, but you thought you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Touch yourself for me,” he commanded in between his moans.

You reached down between your body and the matress, struggling to reach your clit as Heesung's thrusts moved and pressed you against the sheets. Your motions were slow and light despite the harsh snapping of heesung's hips, slowly building up the pressure in your lower stomach until any discomfort you felt was gone, your fingers now matching his speed, mindless of the way your cunt tightened around him almost painfully.

He didn't stop nor slow down, not even as he came. Loud moans spilled from his lips, attempting to drag out his release as much as he could. And you followed soon after, body giving out under heesung to lay flat onto the bed, breathing heavily. He spread your legs carefully to not miss the way his cum oozed out of you, dripping down onto your folds. You turned your head back as best as you could, and through the mess of hair on your face, you still caught the way he smiled to himself as he watched.

“This is video worthy,” Heesung murmured, dragging his fingers up your cunt to fuck his cum back into you. “You're gonna make me hard again.”

You squirmed away from him, kicking at his sides. “Stop it,” you whined, then whined again as he pulled his fingers out languidly, the sight so painfully naughty it almost made you ask him to fuck you again. However, you were too tired to even hold yourself up.

Heesung's whole demeanour changed, and he was back to being just him; playful and soft spoken. “Sorry,” he chuckled, the only time it sounded like he actually meant it. He hovered over you, moving your hair to place gentle kisses on the nape of your neck.

It made you sigh, muscles finally relaxing, and your hearbeat now back to normal. Or sort of normal.

For the sake of the moment, you tried not to think about anything; about the fact that you just had the most intense and amazing sex with your best friend, no other. And you had to admit that you were kind of sad about the fact that it was over, and that it was probably gonna be a one time thing to protect the friendship. So you allowed yourself to be held by him, pushing any and all thoughts to the back of your mind.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispered against your skin.

He was making it way too hard.

“Not so bad yourself,” you mumbled jokingly. Heesung was fucking beautiful, too. “M'gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Sleep, then,” he smiled.

“Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“The dick, and the kisses.”

Heesung couldn't help but laugh, a loud but oddly comforting sound as you began to drift off.

“Anytime.”

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ultravi0lence14 · 2 months ago

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dean winchester x fem!reader

2.6k | angst, fluff

summary: operation, have you and dean actually get along. that is all sam begged and pleaded to happen. though, it worked better than he initially had hoped.

sam believed that if he rolled his eyes anymore, they’d get stuck at the back of his head. he loved you, don’t get it twisted. it’s just that when you and dean were in the same room, things seemed to get a lot more. . . aggravating, to say it lightly.

the winchester brothers had met you around three years ago on a hunt in washington. a pesky demon is what brought you all together. well, it was more or less you and sam. dean was just an added on bonus that wasn’t really a bonus because you wanted to slap him across the face every ten seconds.

you and dean winchester hadn’t gotten along since the jump, and sam could easily vouch for the statement since he’d been in the middle of the lengthy feud for many years. dean was cocky, stubborn, and always had to be right, something you couldn’t stand. as someone who strived on being independent, a man like dean was a thorn in your side.

for years, anytime sam called you to help on a case, or you three were in the same place at the same time, you and dean would always end up in some kind of fight. whether it be his idea was better than yours or dean’s constant need to blare his music in the car it didn’t matter. you would always fight and sam would always dream of cutting his eyes out with a blunt butter knife

this hunt wasn’t any different. a witch had been using the residents of a small town in mississippi as her personal test dummy’s. droppings bodies left, right, and centre. so with a call from sam, you hopped on a bus and met the two brothers at their motel in kentucky, ready to join the hunt.

dean always teased you for not having a constant form of transportation, but you weren’t a douche who rode in a classic muscle car. especially one who was attached to it as a baby is to their bottle, so his digs just went completely deaf to you.

knocking on the winchester’s motel room door, sam greeted you with a gleaming smile on his face. arms extended for a hug, you cuddled into his chest and rested your head by his shoulder, catching a glimpse of dean shovelling a mini pie into his mouth.

when the older brother caught your eye, he just scoffed. hands moving to cross over his chest as you stepped away from sam and did the same.

“we really don’t need her help sammy.” dean practically snarled, mouth tilting up in a devious smirk. “she’s probably already got plans with all her little pals on the bus.”

sam just sighed, already mentally prepared for the kindergarten level digs you two were going to throw at each other. he almost left the room as he watched your shoulders square and your jaw clench. “oh very funny dean.” you retorted, hands resting in your pockets so you didn’t choke the man. “why don’t i just go slash all your tires? then maybe we can be bus buddies.”

“don’t you dare even think about touching my baby!” dean’s finger had lifted in the air in a pointing motion at you, and sam felt his hands lift up and slap against his thighs. “oh dear god, you guys are killing me! there’s people who need are help, and you two fighting like an old married couple isn’t going to help them.”

the sour look on your face when sam mentioned you and dean in the same sentence as married couple could’ve been made as a reaction photo, yet sam and dean didn’t acknowledge it as they led the way outside and to the infamous chevy impala.

nothing could ever prepare sam for the long car rides with you and his brother. it was either copious hours of bickering or a tense silence that had sam so uncomfortable he questioned if walking was a good idea.

this time the silence was so thick, sam genuinely reached his breaking point. Years of breaking up your arguments and having to be the middleman drove him to a dire conclusion; he needed to get you and Dean to like each other.

the plan was truly fool proof. force the two of you to work on the case together and boom, all the arguing and petty fights would be a faraway memory. sam had to contain his grin when he mentioned that interviewing the families is more of a one person job than going to the morgue. his grin didn’t leave his face even as he mentioned that he was better with comforting grieving families than either you or dean.

no words were spoken between you and dean in the car ride towards the morgue. in all honesty, you never knew what to say to the man. he was always angry, finding something to get mad about and always finding a way for it to be your fault.

truthfully, maybe that’s why you hated him. he never let you explain yourself, always jumping to conclusions and blaming you for the smallest things. if it wasn’t for his quick temper and communication issues, you’d probably have a huge crush on the man.

it was dean winchester at the end of the day. and as much of a dick as he was to you, you witnessed those moments he had with sam or with a family member or victim on a case where he wasn’t an absolute dickhead. it was sad really, how much dean hated you. sam spoke up and down that you and dean would be a great duo, yet you never got to prove him right or wrong since his older brother couldn’t go five minutes without arguing with you.

although, something you weren’t aware of was that dean’s thoughts were very similar to yours. he didn’t know why you got under his skin, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you for weeks after you would leave.

the man knew there was nothing wrong with you. he was just stubborn, and pushing people away before he got too close to them was his specialty. what if you became someone special in his life? what if because of that, you died, and then dean would blame himself for the rest of his life.

it was easier to keep you at an arms length than to get too close, and yeah sam would say he was being childish, but dean didn’t really care. you hating him and staying alive was better than him meaning something to you and that being the reason you were dead.

the trip to the morgue was awkward for the better part. you were trying to rid your mind of any thoughts you had on dean in the car and the man in question was trying his best to remain a good foot away from you. both of you could tell that something had shifted in that stupid ten minute car ride, but neither of you wanted to bring it up.

sam knew something was up when he met with you and dean again. it wasn’t even close to his end goal, but he knew that he was getting close to the feud between you and dean to finally be over.

his final shove was suggesting that you and dean check out the home of moira carlson while he goes to talk to the sheriff in charge of the murders. an argument raged on, but begrudgingly, you and dean left together to go investigate the number one suspects home.

dean had gotten to the home in under ten minutes, and now you found yourself and dean sneaking around the back of mrs carlson’s home to slip in the back door.

a scoff could be heard behind you. and as you turned around, you saw dean with an exasperated look on his face. “jesus woman, can you breathe any louder?”

the pettiness of dean’s complaint just had you rolling your eyes, turning back so you could make your way to where the sliding back door was; unlocked thankfully.

moira carlson’s home definitely screamed evil witch who enjoys killing people. occult items and witchy like items were sprawled around the living and dining room. a big pot in the kitchen alongside weird looking herbs also tipped you off. you would’ve mentioned how cliche all of this was if dean didn’t drop and shatter a statue like a dumb ass.

“are you serious!” you exclaimed, whipping around to look at dean’s hunched figure, trying to clean the broken pieces of the statue in a hurry. “can you not be a complete oaf for one damn second?”

the eldest winchester just laughed humourlessly, standing back up with all the broken pieces in his hand. “i’m not the one stomping around like an ogre. she can be home for all we know.”

“coming from the guy with the cinder blocks for shoes.” you scoffed, both you and dean looking down at his monstrous boots. “all of this complaining is really rich coming from you, dean winchester.”

it seemed that at that very moment, dean had enough of your guys’ bickering. with a wild look in his eye, dean flew off the handle in a way that you probably wouldn’t be able to describe in full accuracy ever again. he started off with a disbelieved “really!” and then ranted on for longer than you ever could’ve pictured.

“how is it possible that you think i’m the one always complaining, miss whines a lot.” your eyes buggered out of your head as you looked on past dean. “you know, i’ve been keeping my cool for sammy’s sake but you are really a piece of work. i know i’m not the best person to be around 24/7 but cmon, can you not try and be civil for once?”

he kept going. yet you weren’t focused on whatever dean was saying, for moira carlson, in all of her evil witchy goodness, was coming up behind dean with a spell on her tongue that did not look friendly at all.

“dean.” you muttered, watching as the now ghastly looking woman got closer. he didn’t listen though, just threw his arms in the air and let his hands reside on his hips like a child. “oh so mature y/n. go on and interrupt me-“

“get down you idiot!” your body smacked down to the floor just as the witch threw dean across the room. poor bastard didn’t even have time to turn around. attempting to take shelter behind the sofa, you grabbed on to dean’s sprawled body and shuffled across the floor while trying to shoot at mrs carlson.

somehow, you got the two of you behind the sofa, propping dean in a sitting position before resting your body over the couch so you could take a shot. dean was frantically texting sam, warning his brother about what danger you two were in while wheezing in the air that got knocked out of his lungs.

with a mighty wave of her hand, the witch blew the couch into two pieces. dean’s body slumped back to the floor, too bruised and in pain to allow the man to even move a muscle. a loud cackle could be heard as mrs carlson moved in on dean, ready to deliver her final blow.

she was about to, if it wasn’t for your gun going off at the perfect time and striking her right in her forehead. the woman slumped to the ground beside dean, the man in question shimmying as far away from her as possible before you rushed over and propped him up on the nearest wall.

“oh god.” you mumbled, watching as dean nearly coughed up a lung. you knew he was okay, he took worse beating than this. it was just the fact of seeing him get thrown around like a rag doll that had an emotion bubbling to the forefront of your mind. one you never thought you’d experience towards dean.

waving you off, dean sat himself up straighter and took a deep intake of air. “i’m okay y/n, it’s fine. though you probably just saved my life.” dean all of a sudden had the realization that he didn’t need to be so closed off all this time. you could easily handle your own, and having someone like you would probably be the best thing that ever happened to him.

a sheepish blush rose to your cheeks as dean stared at you longer, and suddenly, you realized that maybe the man wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. deep down, you cared about him. yeah, you two could fight like cats and dogs, but so does everyone. at the end of the day, you would always be there for dean and he’d do the same for you.

“i’m sorry for how i’ve treated you these past couple of years.” your random word vomit had dean snapping his head up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at your nervous features. “i know you have your own way of doing things and i shouldn’t pester you about everything. it sucks that you probably still hate me, but can we please work on us-“

“i never hated you.” dean cut you off so quickly it was almost like he couldn’t bare hold down those words any longer. your nervous face turned shocked, and suddenly dean had the confidence to say what he always wanted to. “ever since i was young, every person i’ve ever cared about either leave’s or dies, and i somehow just knew that you were special the first moment i met you.” a somber smile appeared on your face, and you found yourself moving closer and closer to dean as he continued to speak.

“i’m sorry i never gave you a chance sweetheart, but would you give me one now?” you didn’t have to be asked twice, for in an instant you perched yourself in dean’s lap and smashed your lips onto his.

dean didn’t take long to reciprocate your actions. hands moving to go around your waist and nestle in your hair while your own gripped tightly onto his t shirt. dean’s mouth was exploring all the places he wished he could’ve kissed you sooner. your soft lips, all around your face. when he moved on to placing sloppy kisses on your neck, you felt the vibrations of his voice against your skin as he kept mumbling. ‘so perfect’ and ‘you’re so beautiful, everything i could ever dream of.’

unknown to the two of you, sam had just walked in the front door and was ready to defend you all against the destructive witch. though to his surprise — and slight disgust if he was being honest, he stepped into the living room to see you and dean behind a destroyed couch. the two of you were heavily making out and dean just put it upon himself to wrap his one arm around the underside of your ass, hoisting you further up on his body and giving it a firm squeeze in the process.

“well fuck.” sam mumbled to himself, slightly gagging up his salad from lunch as he watched dean pull your head back by a tuft of your hair and start leaving trails of hickeys down your neck.

“yeah, that’s enough of that.” the youngest winchester just silently mumbled to himself as he walked back outside the front door, leaving you and dean in the middle of a random house to sort out all of your pent up feelings in a way he definitely shouldn’t be seeing.

#supernatural #imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean

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theflowerrooms · 1 year ago

Note

i have a request (hopefully for some smut) 🙈 youve met Eddie because he was your exs dealer! You want to cop on your own but your shy and don’t know what your doing!

you lost your V card to your ex, and he was a selfish asshole to you, and Eddie could always tell

PLEASEEE and thank You 🥰

{to request} {Eddie’s masterlist} {main masterlist}

Treat you right

Eddie Munson x inexperienced!reader

Summary: you buy weed and smoke it with Eddie for the first time, he doesn’t know you but he knows your ex. He knows how bad he was and he knows how good he could be for you.

wordcount:

Warnings: drug use, smut, cursing, pet names, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), praise, Eddie’s super sweet but also super cocky, dacryphilia, marking, slight dubcon? they’re both high

Thank you so much for requesting baby <3 I loved writing this sm

You exhaled shakily. Phone in one hand and a piece of paper with a number and Eddie’s last name written sloppily across it. You got lucky, your boyfriend- ex boyfriend Andrew left his dealer’s number on your bedside table. You’d met Eddie on multiple occasions, you really liked him. He was sweet, funny, respectful, incredibly charming. You reminded yourself that as you nervously dialled his number.

“Hello? Munson residence.” You heard his boyish voice from the other side of the line and already you were smiling to yourself.

“Hey Eddie, um, this is-” He cut you off. “I know who this is doll, I could never forget a voice as sweet as yours. What can I do for you?” He chimed and you giggled, blushing.

Andrew really sucked, he never spoke to you so sweet.

You chewed your lip as you tried to form a sentence in your head that wouldn't embarrass yourself. "Um- I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say. I'd really like to buy from you, please." You spoke, careful with your words so you wouldn't sound like a complete idiot.

"Awe- y'calling for Andrew?" He asked, as if it wasn't obvious enough that you didn't know what you were doing.

"No- no, um, we broke up a little while ago he uh..." You trailed off, you didn't wanna over share and annoy Eddie. "He left your number at my house and I figured, y'know, I wanna buy some weed- please." You tried and failed to hold in your nervous giggle, you couldn't hear him smiling on the other side of the line at how cute he found you.

"Alright doll, tell you what. Since it's your first time buying from me I'll give you a pretty big discount, just let me know when you're free... and you can meet me, hm?" He offered, voice grainy through the phone.

You nodded, "Sure! I'm free whenever, um, where do you want me to meet you?"

✽-

The air was chillier than you'd expected, you suddenly regretted forgoing a jacket, and wearing a skirt. You tapped your nails softly against the picnic table where Eddie had asked to meet. You were a bit early, but you didn't mind waiting, and you definitely didn't want to leave him waiting, so you didn't mind sitting there.

You shivered, and then startled, squeaking as Eddie came up behind you, quiet as ever, and placed his jacket over your shoulders. You blushed and he grinned, rounding the table to sit across from you.

"Fancy seeing you here, sorry for spookin' you doll." His smile didn't leave his face. The metal of his lunchbox clanged as he put it between you two on the table before opening it. "So. Do you just want what I usually gave to you guys?" He asked, eyes kind and welcoming. You never understood the things you heard people say about Eddie, the things Andrew said about him behind his back.

"Um..." You trailed off, blushing again. Of course because you always went with your ex to buy weed from Eddie, he'd assumed you smoked it with Andrew. "How- how much did Andrew get usually?"

You tilted your head and he tilted his in return. "You didn't smoke with him?" He asked and you shook your head. "Have you smoked ever?" You shook your head again.

"Andrew never let me smoke his stuff. Told me if I wanted to smoke with him I had to find my own dealer, get my own weed." You chewed your lip anxiously as you explained. "And the only people I knew who sell it are you and Tommy Hagan. I don't trust Tommy so..." Eddie nodded, following along as you spoke.

"And you trust me?" He asked, a lilt of surprise in his tone. You nodded and he smiled. "Well. My van is parked just down that trail over there, let's get out of the cold, hm?"

✽-

You laughed loudly as Eddie tried, and failed to blow rings with the smoke he exhaled from his joint. You'd never been high before now, and you were loving it. Eddie coached you through it, showed you how to take a hit off of the joint, held it to your lips as you took your first inhale, then rubbing your back through the coughing fit it induced. He even let you drink his water when your throat grew dry.

Now you sat across from him in the back of his van leaning against the cool metal wall. Your laugh triggered Eddie's laugh and you both doubled over in an intense fit of giggles.

"I never understood why Andrew laughed so much when he got high." You giggled through your words, you understood now.

Eddie laughed in response. He coughed and reached out grabbing your ankle, "What uh- what happened with Andrew? Not that it's any of my business but uh- I don't know. I'm nosey." He laughed, straightening himself as he awaited your response.

You chuckled bitterly under your breath at the thought of your break up. "He sucked at sharing his weed but um, he was great at sharing his time, and his attention... his dick." You snickered and grimaced, watching Eddie's face match yours.

He scoffed and leaned his head against his shoulder. "That's awful. I'm sorry- what an idiot." He squeezed your ankle in his hand. "I don't see how he could ever hurt you like that... take you for granted like that." He sighed.

His words had you blushing. "Yeah well, it's okay, I'm mostly over it. I know that there are other guys out there- better guys." You made eye contact with Eddie for the first time that night, and suddenly the energy of the whole night changed.

He nodded slowly, mouth just slightly agape. You'd noticed how pretty Eddie was long before you and Andrew broke up. It was silent for a moment, Eddie's hand moved from your ankle to your calf, long fingers wrapping around the underside of it, thumb stroking your skin. "Yeah... there are plenty of guys out there who'll treat you better. You deserve to be treated right." He proclaimed, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Your throat went dry.

Your legs relaxed, inching apart, calf resting fully in his hand. "I wanna be treated right." Your voice sounded so small and shy. You'd blame it on the weed.

Eddie's eyebrows rose slightly his pupils wide and eyes glossy. "Let me treat you right." His voice was both domineering and pleading all in one and it filled you with a blooming heat.

You couldn't find your words, just nodding eagerly, desperately. He didn't hesitate to move onto his knees, leaning over you and gently pulling you to meet his lips by your chin. His lips were warm against yours, you basked in it.

His tongue glided over your bottom lip, waiting for you to part your lips before he entered them. It was a beautiful contrast compared to how Andrew would just shove his tongue in your mouth before you were ready, or willing.

One of your hands rested on the back of Eddie's neck lightly, holding him close to you while your other hand gently stroked his jaw. His hands found refuge on your thighs, holding the backs of them gently as he maneuvered his way between them. He didn't grind against you or anything, just kissed you, with his thumbs dragging tenderly against the goosebump ridden skin of your legs that were pressing against his hips. He was only willing to go at your pace, which you appreciated.

He kissed you until your hips bucked up slightly, panty-covered clit bumping against the bulge in his jeans. The whimper you let out encouraged him to push his hips down to meet yours, he could feel your heat through the denim between you two.

With the feeling of him rubbing against you, your let your head fall back as you whined softly. The sweet sounds you let out had his cock throbbing, and he soon found himself mouthing at the sensitive skin at your neck. "It okay if I leave marks?" He asked, his voice was dark but his words were kind, and you knew he'd listen if you said no. You also knew that you'd let him do anything to you if he kept making you feel good like this.

"Yes-" and like that, you could feel him pull the skin below your pulse point past his lips, sucking there softly until he released your skin from his mouth and peppered kisses around it.

You sighed at the cool air on your slick skin, you sighed as he continued kissing down your neck, sucking another mark just above the collar of your shirt. You looked forward to seeing the bruises he'd leave behind.

You could feel his breath against your collarbone, his hands moving from your thighs to your waist, thumb playing with the hem of your shirt. Before he could even ask you to, you pulled back from him and pulled your shirt off.

He let out a heavy exhale as his eyes fell on your chest, his fingers twitching beside you. “You can take it off.” You spoke shyly, referring to your lace bralette. Your cheeks burned as you felt Eddie’s hand glide up your back, it only took a few seconds before you felt the clasp open and he was helping you remove your bra.

As your bralette fell to the floor of floor of his van next to your shirt, you heard Eddie’s breath hitch. “You are so damn beautiful.” Your heart was racing at his words, racing at how sincere he sounded. You weren’t used to this kind of attention and you were thriving from it

Quickly, Eddie’s tongue found your chest, flicking over your right nipple before he closed his lips around it, sucking softly. His fingers found your other nipple, gently pinching and rolling it until it hardened. The new sensation had your back arching, pushing yourself against him more. Eddie loved the noises you were making because of him, for him.

Eddie’s mouth left a trail of kisses from your breast and down your stomach. His bottom lip pressed against the band of your skirt and he held the fabric between his fingers. “Can I take this off of you darling?” He asked as he tugged lightly. You nodded your head but he didn’t move, “Words, baby.” He encouraged you to speak.

“Yes, please.” Your voice wavered with both nervousness and excitement. The eager smile on his face before he pulled your skirt down had your heart racing and your cunt throbbing.

When he pulled your skirt down, your panties came unexpectedly with them, you weren’t sure if it was intentional or not but neither you nor Eddie were complaining. What you really didn’t expect, was the audible moan Eddie let out at the sight of your naked body.

You began to sit up slightly, assuming Eddie would want you to ride him, but before you could get up all the way, Eddie was already laying between your legs, hands on your thighs. “What are you doing?” You asked softly and he tilted his head in confusion, tearing his eyes away from your cunt to meet your gaze.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh. “I wanna taste you, that okay?” He asked, his eyes were blown out with lust, cheeks flushed red from arousal; still you knew he wouldn’t go any further if you told him it wasn’t okay.

“Taste me?” You asked, you weren’t sure what he meant. He smirked kindly, another kiss to your thigh. You were grateful he didn’t make you feel embarrassed for not knowing what that meant.

He inched closer to you, you could feel his breath against your opening and it made you dizzy. “I wanna taste your sweet pussy darling, make you feel good. I want you to cum on my mouth sweetheart.” He rasped, laying his head against your thigh. “What? Andrew never use his mouth on you pretty girl?” He was joking, but was both disappointed and pleased when you nodded your head, confirming his statement. He was disappointed that a gorgeous girl like you hasn’t experienced that before, but he was beyond pleased that he would be the first one to get to taste you. If he played his cards right, he’d be the only one.

You spread your legs for Eddie and relaxed back, his large palm squeezed your thighs as he held them open and immediately caught your clit in his mouth, sucking it gently, flicking his tongue over it, forcing moan after moan from your lips.

Andrew had never gone down on you before, despite the fact that you’d gone down on him every time he’d ask or even just every time you felt like making him feel good. He’d never return the favour however. You didn’t spend much time thinking about that- or any time at all. All you we’re capable of focusing on was Eddie and how good he made you feel.

Eddie thrusted his hips against the ground, sucking harder on your clit and moaning against it. Your thighs shook against your hand and you couldn’t speak. You wanted to tell him how good you felt, you wanted to let him know how good he was doing, but all you could manage was to moan and whine as you felt your stomach get tight.

He moved his hand off of your thigh and pushed two fingers inside of you slowly. There was a small stretch, but it didn’t hurt, if anything it felt fantastic.

He wanted to fuck you tonight, and so he’d make sure you were ready to take him, he didn’t want you hurting. Simultaneously, he sucked on your clit and pushed his fingers repeatedly against your g-spot. He revelled in the sensation of you clenching down on his fingers. He looked up at you from between your legs, your stomach flexing and your eyebrows pinched together as you moaned, his cock leaked precum into his boxers.

“Eddie-” you yelped his name, hips jumping and pressing down against his mouth. You could feel an impending orgasm, and you anticipated it with excitement. You’d never had an orgasm given to you by someone else.

He could feel you getting closer, he moaned loudly against your clit and you moaned even louder than him, yelling his name as you came. Your thighs shook and your hands found purchase in his hair, tugging lightly as your eyes teared up from searing hot pleasure.

Eddie rubbed your clit slowly as you came down from your orgasm. He moved up, peppering kisses over your cheeks until you came back to yourself, giggling. “I wanna see you, please.” You whispered, tugging lightly at his shirt.

He nodded, “Anything for you.” He had a sing-song tone that made you smile, and you watched hungrily as he pulled his shirt off. You didn’t have much time to admire his toned body, pretty tattoos, you were distracted almost immediately by the sound of his belt buckle.

Soon, you and Eddie were both naked in the back of his van, the windows of which were already growing steamy.

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily, hips slotting between your legs once again, only this time no clothes were separating you. “You gonna let me take care of you baby? Show you what it’s like to get fucked by someone who knows how to make a girl feel as good as she deserves?” He nudged his nose against yours, you were growing dizzy with lust and need for him.

You threw your head back as you felt the weight of Eddie’s cock slide against your soaking wet cunt. “Yes, please- please fuck me Eddie.” He loved the way your voice shook.

Within seconds, his balls were pressed flush against you, cock deep inside, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He was both thicker and longer than Andrew, not by much, but still the difference was enough to have you sputtering.

“Oh god-” You moaned loudly, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he began to fuck you.

He only laughed softly, “Close, it’s actually Eddie.” He teased, kissing your jaw as he hiked your legs up to rest on his hips as he fucked you harder, perfectly hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

You reached down to rub your clit but Eddie knocked your hand away with his own, rubbing it for you. He grinned wickedly at your broken moan, cock throbbing inside you at the sight of the thick tears pouring down your face. “Poor girl, so sweet and messy. Ever been fucked like this before? Andrew fuck you this good?” He asked.

You could only shake your head and cry for a moment before you found your words. “Never- never been fucked this good. You’re- you’re so g-good, Eddie.” You moaned, cunt clamping down on his cock.

Each of you were both growing closer, your hands and legs shaking, Eddie’s hips stuttered and his thrusts grew sloppy. His head fell down to your shoulder and you rested your cheek against his hair. “Cum inside me, p-please.” You whimpered.

He moaned in response, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. The feeling of him cumming inside you and playing with your clit had you arching your back and screaming his name.

You both rested in the back of his van for a while, just holding each other. Heavy breathing, sweat slicked skin, and gentle kisses. “Thank you.” You whispered.

“Thank you.” He answered immediately. “I’m sorry he didn’t take care of you the way you deserve.” He kissed you again.

After you both got dressed again, you grew shy, and Eddie only found it endearing pulling the smile from you that he desperately wanted to see. “I’ll give you a ride home doll, ‘n when you need, or want anything, you give me a call.”

Of course you agreed, thanked him. And as he drove you home and you stared at him with hearts in his eyes, you were so grateful for Andrew. Grateful for him leaving Eddie’s number at your house.

#petalwrites #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie munson x inexperienced!reader #inexperienced!reader #dom!eddie munson

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sideblog-ver3 · 10 months ago

Text

big dick steve (18+)

spider webs and vampire boobs

“if you were to throat fuck me, i’d probably vomit from my gag reflex.”

the rustling of steve moving his head on his cotton pillow filled the quiet room. “what the hell are you talking about?” his voice holding a bit of thickness in the back of his throat.

now you turned your head from staring at the ceiling to look at steve on your left. “well cause you have a big dick-“ “thanks for the ego inflation.”

you teasingly smack a hand into steve’s chest, he held it down with his own limb. “i can barely take half of you when going at my own speed. and i was just thinking about how when you put your hands on my head and give me a little push, i worry i might vomit. i’ve had girlfriends tell me it’s happened to them before. and if that were to happen to me i’d ask you to kill me right on the spot.” all seriousness coating your words.

steve’s big brown eyes stared you down as his bushy brows rose at your last sentence. your linked hands gently rising and falling with steve’s even breathing. “first, you’re being extra dramatic. second, if you even feel that way when i get more…forceful, you should smack my thigh or something. don’t just take it.”

you pushed up to your elbow and halfway leaned over steve, bed head framing your face, “no, yeah, i know that. you aren’t like forcing me all the way so i’m fine, but something i just think about those guys in porn. you know?” a squint to your eyes trying to determine is steve understands what you mean.

now steve pushing onto his elbow with a similar squint, “what kind of porn are you watching? and why?”

a painted finger traced over steve’s hairy chest, “nothing crazy. and it’s mostly just for inspiration. that one trick i did yesterday, got it from porn. and you seemed quiet pleased if i remember correctly.” smirking as you leaned forward to peck at steve’s rosy lips.

he hummed in content, “and i absolutely did. but anyway, why don’t we train you. if you want we can prep your throat better.” a palm rubbing at your bicep comfortingly.

“anything to suck your dick, baby.” already shuffling your way down his body and pulling away his comforter.

his bare lower body was a delicious sight to behold. dark hairy thighs on display, your mind wanting to bite into them. his thick, long cock starting to move on its own, going from soft to hard in a minute.

“excited for my training?” a teasing tone with seductive eyes directed towards steve who laid back down, hands folded behind his head. a cocky smirk tugging his lips. “anything involving you gets me excited quickly.”

“just don’t get too excited. gonna need your cock for a while, baby.” planting your hands to his thighs while positioning yourself.

“take all the time you need.”

you leaned closer to steve’s cock, allowing a small glob of spit to drip from your mouth. his dick twitching at the sensation. steve moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth opening in a small gasp.

moving in for the action, you swiped the flat of your tongue to the underside of his dick, going from his hairy balls to the top. hungry eyes watching steve’s every reaction, it only spurred you on for more.

“just getting started, baby.” finally wrapping your right hand onto his cock, fingertips not touching. you started with slow strokes, using your spit for lube.

steve quietly whined with each stroke, his stomach flexing to control himself. seeing that his cock was fully hard, now was the time to begin. sticking your tongue out, you kitten licked at the tip a few times, enjoying the twitch of reaction from the wet muscle.

“baby- fuck-“ a groan cutting steve off as you opened your mouth and took about four inches confidently. lips wrapping around the skin as you bobbed your head, right hand stroking at the lonely bits.

steve moved his hands from behind his head to sit on his torso. one touching his v-line while the other traveled to sit in your hair. you couldn’t help but stare at his long fingers, digits that fuck your cunt or get stuffed into your mouth and you happily suck on them.

slowly you pushed yourself forward, gaining another three inches. only about two more and you have him completely sitting in your mouth. his cock was heavy on your tongue, saliva slipping from the sides of your mouth.

you pulled away quickly when you felt the telltale sign of a gag. you coughed a bit when your throat was free, spit falling to land on your chest.

“not- not bad, but you could do better, doll.” steve grabbed a fist full of hair and tugged. a signal to show what he was about to do.

“yes, daddy.” allowing for steve to guide your mouth back to his awaiting cock. with a bit more force he shoved your head down onto him, nose almost brushing with his bush of pubes.

“atta girl.” he purred with his head thrown back and hips bucking up, tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

you closed your eyes and just focused of the feel and weight of him. letting your tongue toy with his underside and nails dig into the meat of his thighs. you took slow inhales through your nose, calming yourself and relaxing your throat.

giving yourself a minute of composure, you started to bob your head back before going in. out and in, out and in, out and in. more drool pooling from your filled mouth, soaking steve’s dick nicely for easily traction.

“al- almost there. swallow or spit?” steve looked down at you with a fucked out face. teary eyes just stared back up to him and you didn’t budge an inch.

“swallow. good girl.” steve took back some rein and pushed your head down as he fucked his hips up. you moaned in pleasure at the sensation, both from the grip on your hair and the roughness in your mouth.

“i’m- i’m gonna…” shots of warm liquid hit the back of your throat. you hummed on his dick, his groaned at the action.

steve released your hair and you slowly pulled off his cock, wanting to lick it clean of his cum, humming to yourself at the salty taste.

“see, all we had to do was train you.”

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x gn!reader

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itsthecline · 5 months ago

Text

FWB!RAFE ONE SHOT

cw afab!reader , substance use , profanity , smut ( making out , grinding , fingering , recording unprotected pinv , spanking , daddy kink , praise & slight degradation kink , creampie , kinda dom!rafe/sub!reader )

18+ minors DNI

rafe is definitely the one to initiate anything and starts this whole thing you two have going on. you come over to his house one night ( not unusual , considering you’re such close friends ) after you and some guy you were seeing broke up. really you just needed some time to calm down about the entire situation , so rafe offers to smoke you up to help you let loose.

at first , you’re just smoking together while you rant about how much of a douche this guy was to you all the time and how stupid you felt for even liking the kid to begin with. and rafe really , truly can’t understand how the hell any guy could fumble as bad as this. even though he was only ever your friend , rafe had thought about what it’d be like to have you several times — mostly late at night , sometimes when you were hanging out with him and the guys on the Druthers and your swimsuit was riding a little too high.

eventually , the conversation slowly gets more explicit , you recalling all of the times this guy couldn’t even make you cum and laughing about it with rafe. “what an idiot.” it’s the first thing rafe says that really catches your attention , questioning him for the meaning behind his small murmur. “i can’t imagine how pissed i would be if i had the chance to be with you and fucked it up by not being able to make you finish,” he said and just his tone gave off the impression that he wanted to prove it to you— that he wouldn’t make the same mistake this other guy did.

and you’re high , your inhibitions are low , and rafe looks sooo good — so who’s to blame you when you meet him in the middle when he pulls you in for a kiss? he doesn’t hesitate to take over , yanking you into his lap without breaking the kiss ; he deepens it. your hands find purchase in his dirty blonde hair while his find your hips , squeezing tight , running up and down your sides just wanting to feel you.

rafe is kind enough to let you set the pace for a few minutes , letting you grind yourself down onto him which only makes you groan into his mouth. it’s when you pull back that rafe gets to start his work. kissing down your neck , biting and soothing the sting with his tongue , sucking bruises into your skin that you would surely bitch about tomorrow.

you lean back a little , rafe chasing you as you continue to grind against him. your short skirt had ridden up around your hips which only left your small panties in between you and the hard-on he’s sporting under his jeans. every once in awhile you glide against him just right , causing your mouth to drop and rafe’s hands to squeeze your ass a little tighter one of them coming down to spank you only spurring you on further.

“oh , you like that , huh?” so cocky with the way he speaks and laughs lowly in your ear. you can only manage a whimper in response , pulling him away from your neck and back to you to go in for another kiss , needing the relief of his lips against yours again. it was hard to remember the last time just making out felt so good.

one of rafe’s hands sneaks around to the front of you the other finding it’s place on your thigh , testing how far the night could really go , feeling the damp cloth between your legs and the way you melt into him at the delicate touch. he pulls your panties to the side gently before running his middle and ring finger through your slick folds , groaning at how wet you already were.

and he can’t help but think that this all didn’t take much , and he could’ve had made a move a long time ago.

he works you up a little more , rubbing at your clit and holding you to him before teasing your entrance with both fingers. you grab his wrist , impatiently helping him move a little quicker than he’d like. rafe’s taking his time in everything he’s doing , really trying to take it all in. the noises your making , the way you feel , everything.

rafe dips both fingers into you , pussy clenching around the intrusion and a moan ripping through your throat. he starts working his fingers in and out of you while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit and you help him , grinding into his hand. you forget where you are and the fact that sarah’s upstairs in her room until rafe adds a third finger , causing you to fall into him and moan far louder than you had been.

“take me upstairs,” it’s not a request when you say it. and just like that , you’re empty again with rafe picking you up in his arms and heading straight to his room while you attack his neck with your lips grumbling about how someone’s excited. you let out a soft giggle , kissing him again.

when you get to the room , he tosses you down onto the bed before yanking your hips to the edge by your thighs. you sit up on your elbows , taking in how good rafe looks like this ; swollen lips , messy hair , damp spot formed on his pants thanks to you. you can’t recall a time you didn’t think rafe was attractive. he was objectively a good looking guy. but something about him being so wound up for you made him look even better.

“whatcha looking at me like that for?” rafe asks , head tilting to the side a little bit , cheeky smile gracing his face.

you sit up , pulling your top off and throwing it to the side not caring where it landed. “i’m waiting for you to prove that you’re a little bit better than the rest of the guys on the island , rafe,” you admitted , leaning back on your arms waiting for him to make a move again as he eyes your now free breasts.

“i’m not a little better.”

“no?”

“i’m way better,” he corrects you before kneeling down on the floor and pulling you to him , hot breath hitting your core before he dives in.

it took you off guard , how quickly went to eating you like a starved man , but god , did it feel good.

your hand flies to the back of his head to hold him closer to you. his nose nudges your clit over and over as his tongue dips into you. “taste so good for me , baby.”

baby.

he’d never called you that before. it was always variations of your name , your last name , or simply y/n. never baby.

you let yourself fall back into his bed all the way , head flying back , mouth letting moans fly freely as he added his fingers back into you. the noise was visceral and the only thing you could hear besides rafe’s low groaning into your core and your own breathy moans.

“fuck — don’t stop. gonna cum,” you announced , hips trying to chase the feeling of diving off the edge , but rafe’s free hand pushes you back down , holding you in place to his liking.

you’re so fucking close , and rafe can feeling your cunt tightening over and over again around his fingers. he pulls his mouth away from you , kissing your inner thighs and his fingers pound into you harder. “need you to cum for me , baby. cum on my fingers,” he breathes out.

and with a curl of his fingers that right band within you snapped. rafe’s hand didn’t stop when you fell , helping you through your orgasm and working you up again for another. “good girl , that’s it. did so good for me,” he smiles at you , rising from the floor and unbuckling his belt.

your lips are still tingly and you can’t hear fully quite yet , but you can feel rafe’s body hovering over you , his hands running up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe you a little. “y’alright?” he worries slightly , tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes.

you let out a soft hum , your eyes glossed over and trailing down rafe’s body. you sit up again , reaching out for him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “want this off.”

rafe doesn’t waste any time , ripping his shirt off and taking his pants the rest of the way off , leaving him in just his boxers to match you in your panties. “want to see how much better i can get too?”

so fucking cocky. but nonetheless you nod with a smile , already feeling ready to go again. “give it to me , cameron.”

green light.

rafe grabs you and flips you to your stomach , pulling and maneuvering you the way he sees fit before rubbing his cock up and down your folds. for the first time ever , he hadn’t cared too much about his own relief.

usually , when he was hooking up with someone , it started with him receiving the sloppiest head he could get and following it up with fucking the poor girl into his mattress to finish himself off while getting her to where he needs. but this time , he couldn’t tear his focus away from making you feel good to the best of his abilities.

you can feel rafe pause , still rubbing himself through your arousal. and as greedy as it may seem , you needed him in you now. “condom?” he simply asks. your throat is still dry , so you swallow the lump in your throat rock your hips back , the tip of him catching and sliding all the way into you.

this. this is what heaven felt like.

the two of you groan in sync , rafe’s head tilting back as his grip on your hips tightened , definitely leaving bruises in their wake. “fuck you feel good.”

good doesn’t begin to describe it. you feel so full , so warm. you continue rocking your hips , fucking yourself onto rafe’s cock in an effort to let him take a break after the orgasm he ripped out of you moments before. it’s what he deserved. “yeah? you like this dick , baby?” he grunts , slapping your ass and gripping you to move you on and off of him after you let a whine pass by your lips.

“fucking love it!” you reply , head hitting the sheets as you kept working yourself on him.

with a certain roll of your hips , rafe nearly cums right then. “that’s it,” he grumbles , shifting his weigh and shoving you further into the mattress before slamming into you. he keeps going with his hard thrusts , his pace picking up. “taking it so fucking good for me. bet that idiot you’ve been giving this to would die if he saw you like this.” rafe chuckled lowly , just imagining how good it would feel to see the look on that guys face.

your head raises a little bit , looking over your shoulder and catching rafe’s eye. “why don’t you take a video? show him how much better you are to me than him? if you want,” you suggest , big , glossy eyes staring into his soul. could you be more perfect?

rafe’s hood stutter before coming to a stop. he pulls out quickly , reach over to his nightstand for his phone and opening the camera and starting a video. “c’mere , baby. fuck yourself on my dick for the camera. show everyone who’s treatin’ you so good,” he coaxes you back onto him.

you do as you’re told , sliding back until rafe’s hips start doing the work for you again. his hand comes down on your ass , spanking you a few times in a row only causing you to sink into the bed more. “you feel so good , daddy!”

god , he knows that the two of you have talked about your kinks before. it was just something that came up one night while you were hanging out with your friends , but he didn’t expect you to pull that one out. “yeah? your daddy taking care of you. showing you how it should be?” he fucks into you harder , pulling all the way out before slamming back in. “fuck , i’m gonna cum , baby.”

it’s like he read your mind when he reached around you and starting flicking at your clit again. “cum in me , daddy. shit , fuck! don’t stop , please don’t stop!” you’re babbling at this point , just wanting rafe to keep going , to get you there one last time.

“make your daddy cum , baby. being such a good little slut,” rafe groans , resting back on his calves to let you work for it just a little bit , his hand staying perched on your lower back to help you keep your pace.

you listen to him , throwing your ass back to help him finish just like he had for you earlier. “wanna make you come,” you whine , reaching your hand between your body and the sheets to rubbing your clit , needing just a little bit more. rafe catches this and slaps your hand away , rubbing furiously until he feels you flutter around his length over and over and over until you let out a wail. your legs are shaking as you collapse into the bed , no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore.

rafe drops the phone to the bed , gripping both of your hips and thrusting into you hardest he has yet. he covers your body with his , as his thrusts become sloppier and lips attaching to your neck , mumbling how close he is and how good you are. your cunt spasms around him again , tears flooding your eyes in pleasure. your mind goes fuzzy. you can’t even tell when he stops fucking into you , his body deflating and his weight coming down on you.

“you still with me , baby?” rafe questions , pushing himself off of you and grabbing the camera again. he pulls out , focusing the camera on his cum spilling out of you in a mixture with your own. he slaps your ass and jiggling the fat under his hand before spreading your cheeks to get an even better view of the aftermath. “you did so good for me.”

rafe stops the recording , tossing his phone to the side again before standing up and going to his en suite bathroom. meanwhile , you come back to feeling your legs and roll yourself over to catch your breath. “jesus christ , rafe!” you call out , just loud enough for him to hear you from the bathroom.

he comes back into the room with a damp towel , reaching to clean you up gently. “you staying the night?” he asks softly , looking at your face to meet your eyes.

he sees you ponder it , really think about such a silly , simple question. “yeah , i think i’ll stay,” you smile softly. really , it was because you didn’t think you could sit up let alone get back to your house across the street.

rafe pulls a pair of shorts on swiftly before hopping into the bed next to you and grabbing his phone. “here , send that shit to what’s his face.” he hands his phone over to you , and you can’t help but laugh a little as you type in your ex’s number and press send. you toss rafe his phone back into his lap and let your head hit the pillows again. “straight to the spank bank,” rafe partially joked , putting the video into his hidden folder.

“you’re such a pig , cameron.”

woooo , this was so much longer than i intended it to be. it is my first post & first time writing smut so be gentle with me

#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #fwb!rafe #rafe cameron one shot

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velocesainz · 10 months ago

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Hii!

Could you possibly do a Percy Jackson smut with Percy fucking the brat out of reader, his rival? Rough sex with degrading and praise pls and ty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

A/n:This was quite an interesting request for me to write, thank you for the idea! All character have been aged up (19-20)

More than rivalry

Percy jackson masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Percy gets jealous seeing you (his rival) with another boy and decides to fuck you to make sure you remember that you are his but you end up being too cocky for his liking

Warnings: smut, degradation

Pairing: Percy x daughter of Zeus! Reader

Reader pov:

I was practising my archery skills with some Apollo kids and we were actually having a lot of fun

Over the time I had spent Robert over the past few days perfecting my archery we both really grew close together

He was one of the very few people at camp who were actually friends with me for me and not because I was Zeus’s daughter.

While we were training I clumsily fell over a rock and was about to go crash into the ground but Robert caught me in time.

We stayed in the position for a little bit not knowing what to do.

We looked at each other with soft and gentle eyes, like how friends would rather than people who like each other though it seemed otherwise to most.

It was a sweet moment we both were trying to savour when a bellowing voice split us apart

“Oi thunder witch! What are you doing, let the poor guy out of his misery and do some practising on your own yea?” Yelled the voice that I really didn’t want to hear right now

Percy motherfucking Jackson

“Ocean ass how about you go bother someone else. He’s here with me at his own will for your kind information. Care more about your friends yea?” I retorted

I wanted to leave the arena as fast as possible so I bid Robert goodbye and left for my cabin

Percy pov:

Crisis averted.

I didn’t let Robert and y/n have their moment.

Why the fuck out of all the girls here does Robert have to go for y/n?

He has like a hundred girls dying for him.

Doesn’t he know she’s mine?

I know we seem like enemies but I wish to fuck like every second of the day at this point

She’s just so beautiful and that attitude damn.

I had a plan to get y/n away from every other guy, not just Robert.

Reader pov:

I was sitting in my cabin reading a book when I heard a knock on my door

That’s odd, I thought

Nobody was usually free at this hour in the evening

Everyone was too busy scheming for capture the flag except me of course

I wasn’t allowed to participate along with Percy since we were a tad bit overpowered

I walked over and opened the door and before I could figure out who it was they shoved me against the wall and started kissing me

I pushed the figure away and tried to run but they caught me

“Don’t try to run bitch. You need to be taught a lesson. Now be a good little slut and listen to what I say or the consequences will be severe for you” the figure whispered in my ear.

Then I realised who it was

Percy.

I was feeling cocky today so I decided to tease him a little

“You sure you can be intimidating and dominating seaweed brain? I don’t think you can even satisfy me forget punishing me”I replied with a smirk gracing my features

“Oh you asked for this whore. By the time I’m done with you you will be so dumb for my cock that you won’t even remember your name. Just you wait “ he said in a Husky voice which turned me on more than I would like to admit

He started removing my clothes as fast as he could and I couldn’t help but sneak in a cheeky comment

“Desperate are we?” Boy oh boy was this a bad decision

“I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude right out of you. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut can you whore?” Percy said and threw me in my bed

Undressing himself he got on the bed and made his way towards me like a predator approaching its prey

He moved my panties to the side and roughly shoved his cock inside me without any warning

“A-ah p-p-Percy that hurts sto-“ I was cut off by a slap I received

“Shut the fuck up slut. You were the one who was acting all cocky just a few minutes ago. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be cared for” Percy panted as he continued thrusting in and out

His pace was ungodly. He kept thrusting in and out of me letting my pussy drink up his cock

I felt like I was losing my mind as he hit my g-spot repeatedly completely abusing it

“O-oh fuck your pussy is tight. G-gods I’m going to come. Ah yea just like that” He whispered huskily

“I am going to cum too Percy” I told him

“No no. You don’t get to cum you little slut. You’ve been a really back whore for me. You don’t get to cum today, deal with it yourself” Percy said as he came in me

He got dressed quickly and left leaving me a panting and unsatisfied mess

Goddamit jackson.

A/n: let me know if you guys liked this fic or if you have any feedback! Requests are still on hold unfortunately but they’ll be opened soon. Kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson smut #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you

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henry7931 · 5 months ago

Text

Got Your Body B*tch!

Drew:

This is Marco, he’s a raging asshole (for a lack of better words). I’ve known him all of my life, down to when we were young kids. And he’s always been a huge pain.

Marco, is the type of guy who’s cocky, always gets what he wants, comes from really nice rich parents, and incredibly insensitive.

He’s been that way forever.

I thought I was done with him when I left to go to college. That was until I walked in to my college apartment and saw Marco unpacking bags.

“Drewphus! I didn’t know you’re my roomie. You’re going to have to leave the apartment when bring a girl over, okay? Oh also, no touching my shit. I don’t want you get poverty all over it.”

If looks could kill in a moment, I swear Marco would be dead on the ground right now.

“I’m kidding…. Well, kinda. So here is your space, I hope you don’t mind but i already called the bigger bedroom since i was here first.”

“That’s fine Marco,” I say biting my tongue.

“Great, well have fun unpacking whatever you got in those two suit cases. I’m gonna have some private Marco time if you know what I mean”

Marco makes a jerking off hand gesture, I just roll my eyes and head into my new room.

A few hours past after I unpack and settle in, I order a pizza for dinner and lay back in bed.

All I can think about is how I’m about to have to live in the same quarters as Marco. The same guy I cant stand to be around.

Ugh…

So just like I always do when I get this stressed— it’s time to jerk off. (Something I’m sure Marco has already done 12 times today)

I checked my phone to see how much time I have until the pizza arrives, one hour. Great!

I pull off my shorts and open up my laptop. I feel a little embarrassed to admit this but I the kind of porn I like isn’t for everyone. I have a foot fetish. And not just that I this thing for jock athletes and their feet. I hate how much it turns me on especially since it’s guys like Marco that really get me going.

I start scrolling through and see this really hot jock with big feet. I click on his page. His username says AlphaAlex, he’s tan, dirty brown curly hair, six pack, big muscles…

I start mentally picturing him with me in the room, fantasizing him taking off his sneakers and dirty gym socks in front of me.

He says to me, “Hey Drew, do you mind rubbing my feet? I’ve had a really long practice and they are killing me.”

He puts them on my lag and says, “sorry if they stink!”

He lets me rub them and I ask him if I can smell them…

He says, “Sure, you can do whatever you want with them. After you’re done with my big jock feet, do you mind massaging my cock next?”

I stare deeply into AlphaAlex’s massive bulge on the screen. Almost about to nut…

“BRO!!! WHAT THE F*CK DREWFUS! I KNEW YOU WERE A HOMO BUT YOU’RE A FOOT FREAK TOO?”

Cum squirts onto my chest just as I turn to see Marco standing at my door with his cellphone recording in hand.

“MARCO!!! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?”

“Bro, wait until I show this to everyone! Now everybody going to know you’re a foot freak!!”

“MARCO PLEASE NOOO!!!”

I hop out of bed and Marco turns around and I chase him butt naked through our apartment.

He screams, “Stop chasing me foot freak!!!”

Marco shuts the door and I feel my stomach turn. I beg him to delete the video but he doesn’t respond.

As I go back to my room, I cry into my pillow… I feel so mortified.

I lay back, wiping my tears and say, “If someone could hear me, I wish I can get revenge on Marco. No I want more! I want everything Marco has…”

I cry myself to sleep, nervous for what the next day had in store for me.

The next morning, I wake up feeling kinda off. It takes me a second but I realize that somehow I’m not in my room!

In a panic, I rush to get out of bed until I come across a mirror.

That’s when I see Marco’s reflection looking back at me!!!

“Holy shit!!”

I feel a moment of fear hit me… but then I remember my wish last night. Someone out there listened to me.

I look at Marco’s face and then down at his body. Hes a dick but…. He is hot…

I pull off Marco’s shorts he slept in and his 10 inch hard morning wood comes flopping out.

“Holy fuck…”

I grasp it in Marco’s hand, which I guess is my hand now?

Nervous, yet kinda excited, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I looked down at the throbbed cock in my new new hands and immediately start jerking off.

I hop back into Marco’s bed and bring his foot up to his face. He actually has some sexy feet!

I start licking his foot from heal to toe. I relish in knowing the fact that he would go insane if he saw me with his body right now.

I keep tugging away at his cock and this maybe the best jerk off session in my life.

I twist Marco’s nipple and let out a soft moan.

“Fuckkk Marco your nipples are sooo sensitive,” I say aloud.

Hearing his voice sends me into a frenzy, just the thought that I can say anything, do anything as him. I have complete control of this dickhole!

I stand up out of bed and dash to the mirror, I grin at his reflection and jerk his cock even faster.

“Drew, it feels soo good, keep jerking my cock Drew. My body belongs to you now, my big feet, my sensitive nipples, my sexy abs… FUCKKKK THIS IS SOOO HOTTTT!!!”

I nearly screaming by this point and I feel every muscle in Marco’s body tighten.

I’m tugging so fast now and then cum sprays all over the place.

I fall back onto Marco’s bed covered in his nut. I look at his covered hand and lick it clean.

I lay back and gently rub his fingers back and forth on his stomach up to his chest.

Then reality started to sink….

Wait, if I’m Marco… what happened to my body?

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

I hear a distant familiar scream coming from the background.

“Oh shit…”

Heavy footsteps coming charging my direction and before I can even get up the door slams open.

Out of the door is my body…

My eyes get big, I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry. My face is blood red and he starts to charge at me.

“Hold up!” I say hopping on top of the bed.

“DREW YOU PIECE OF SHIT IM GOING TO END YOU!!”

He balls up a fist and starts to pull back. Before he can reach me I grab the balled fist.

I guess Marco’s body has quicker reflex’s.

I pull him in and toss him on the bed. I pin him down and say, “I’m a lot stronger than you now. You wanna talk instead?”

“F YOU!!!”

I twist my former weaker arm and he shouts out, “OWWW SHIT, FINNNE!!!”

I get hop off my body and let him turn over.

He glances me over and says, “did you just jerk off in my body?”

I look down at the undeniable evidence.

“Yeah, I did. It was amazing.”

“You piece of—”

I look down and notice the tent in my boxers.

“Wait are you turned on right now?” I say to him.

“NO IM NOT!”

“You have a very noticeable boner right now.”

“Shut up! No I don’t!”

“What was it for you? Seeing your body all naked? Or was it when I pinned you down?”

He says nothing to me, just looks away.

“I mean you have very hot body Marco, theirs no shame in being turned on by it. Hell, I can’t stand you and I just had the best jerk off session in my life. What’s getting all hot and bothered? Is your hairy pits?” I hold his armpit up and step closer to him.

“Or maybe it’s the sight of your own cock.” I say shaking his semi-hard dick at him.

I move even closer to him. He looks like he’s in a trance.

“Oh you know what always gets me hard. Big manly feet,” I kick his foot up and show it to him.

I place his foot on my former bulge and start rubbing it.

“Does that feel good?”

He still say nothing but lets me keep going.

I push him further on the bed and pull off the brief I went to bed in my last.

My dick comes out standing straight up and leaking from the tip.

I place his foot on it and start toying with it using his toes.

He lets out a moan.

I look at my former face and he’s so turned on right now.

I pull his foot away and he says softly, “please don’t stop…”

“Oh you don’t want me to stop?”

“No… please Drew… it’s throbbing…”

“Well you’re gonna have to finish the job yourself, I’m going to shower and head to the pool.”

“WHAT!??”

“Yeah the pools still open, got to make the most out of these last few warm days Drew.”

“YOU!!! Drew, you can’t just leave me like this!!! I want my body back right now!”

“Sorry DREW! But this wasn’t my doing necessarily. If anything this is karma for you being such a prick all these years. Now run along and go take care of that boner little gay boy.”

I look at the corner of Marco’s room and see his dirty sock.

“Oh here you go! A gift from me to you, enjoy!”

I give my former throbbing dick a pat and I run off to the shower, leaving Marco in his mixed emotional state.

I rinse off quickly and come back out, I walk back into Marco’s room and see he’s still on the bed— sniffing the dirty sock and wanking one out.

“Oh fuck you’re back already!” he says to me.

He looks so pathetic right now.

“Geez, just stay right where you are.”

I drop the towel and get into bed with him. I grab my former cock and push it into Marco’s throat.

“HOLY!!!!” he screams out.

I suck off my former body while Marco’s moans frantically.

I feel him running my former hands in his hair and I feel myself getting a little excited from it. It’s kinda hot being this aggressive and sucking my former body off.

He lets out a loud grunt and cums down my new throat.

“Better?,” I say whipping the excess cum off my mouth.

“God yeah,” he says taking heavy breaths.

I look at my former body in the eyes and for a split second I thought about kissing him. But then reality sinks in… that’s still Marco inside.

I get out of bed and say, “I’m heading down to the pool.”

I put on his bathing suit and he says to me, “Drew, I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

“I know you are,” I say back.

“Can we try to fix this?”

“I’m sorry to Marco but I don’t think we fix this, these may be our bodies forever. So you might as well get comfortable.”

I left him sitting in his now former room naked and silent.

When I get down to the pool it doesn’t take me long to notice others noticing me.

Some girls and some guys, I look over at some of the guys and even wink at one. He is super cute and fit.

I hop on to a float and lay back soaking up the sun. I wait to see if that guys going to make a move when the ultimate buzz kill shows up.

It’s Marco in my body.

“Sup,” he says to me.

“Just trying to relax.”

“Yeah well, we still need to talk.”

“We don’t now f*ck off.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over a chair by the pool.

Soon that guy from earlier comes over.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says to me with a grin.

“Just laying out wait for you to come over,” I say with a smirk.

“Oh is that so?” he says flirtatiously.

He gets into the pool and now he’s right next to me.

“I’m Lois.”

“Marco,” I say introducing myself to him.

“So do you live here?”

“Yeah I’m on the second floor.”

“Nice, I’m on the third.”

We flirt and have small talk for a minute until he asks me out.

“Sure you wanna do tonight?” I say to him.

“Oh man, yeah I’m down,” he tries not to be too excited.

“Great, let’s say 7?”

“Yeah 7 works for me.”

“Cool,” I say grinning at him.

I peak out of the corner of my eye and see my Marco coming up to the pool.

“What are you doing?” he says to me.

“Oh hey Drew, this is my roommate.”

“Oh nice, I’m—”

“Don’t care dude, I need to talk to you Marco.”

“Uh okay, sorry Lois. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah for sure!”

I get out of the pool and walk back to the apartment with Marco angry.

“What was that?” he says sternly.

“None of your business! Also you were just so f*cking rude!”

“I don’t care! You were flirting with that guy!”

“Yeah so? We are going on a date tonight.”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yeah, and you interrupted it.”

“You’re going on a date with a guy in my body?!?”

“It’s my body now and yes I am!”

“But… but you just sucked me off and…”

“And what? You thought that was something special?”

“OF COURSE NOT! I’M NOT GAY!”

“Well what you did a few hours ago seemed pretty gay to me.”

“Yeah that’s because I’m in your gay body and plus that’s my body. It’s kinda like masterbation.”

“Whatever man, I really don’t care. If you want to pretend to be straight that’s fine. But I’ll be honest, I think you’ve always had feelings for guys. I know because I’m in your body and I’m still attracted to men.”

“SHUT UP!!!”

“So it’s true, you’ve been a dick to me my entire life about my sexuality, what I like, and it turns out you have some pinned up jealousy towards me right?”

Marcos looking down at the ground.

“We could have been friends, do you not get that?!? We could have—”

Marco grabs me and kisses me.

I was so shocked and I even felt butterflies in my stomach. We kiss for a few minutes before I pull back.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?”

“I’m sorry Drew! I was never going to do all of that stuff. I… I don’t know how to say this… I like you. I like you a lot. Hell, I thought about kissing you just about every time I went to kiss any girl. But I have so much anger and you’re right I am jealous! I’m jealous that you’re out and proud of yourself. You’re so confident! Fuck!!”

“So why put me through so much!?!! I mean look at us, we’re literally trapped as each other now! All of this could have been prevented if you just owned up.”

“I thought… I thought you would have hated me so much that you would tell everyone the truth about me. So… I just, I was a prick.”

“Damn right you were!”

“Sorry… again.”

“It’s fine, I guess I’m sorry for causing this body swap thing between us. I made some wish last night to get back at you. I didn’t think it would become anything but then woke up as you.”

His eyes get big, “so that’s how this happened?”

“Yeah, I guess something out in the universe was listening in and heard me.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Well if we are being honest about everything. I wasn’t just turned on by you dominating me upstairs. I was freaked out and yet turned on from being inside of you.”

“Really? My body?”

“Yeah Drew, you’re cute. You have an adorable face, cute slim figure, you’re charming yet kinky.”

“Wow.”

“And now I guess we are going to have to be each other forever?”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Well if I had to be anyone else, I’m glad it’s you.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

I grinned at him and he smiles back at me. We both start to laugh.

“Are you still going on a date with this Lois guy?”

“Well not if an adorable guy who’s charming yet kinky stops me.”

“I guess that’s me now isn’t it?”

“Yep!”

“Well I can’t fully stop you but I can tell you this. If you don’t go—we can order take out, lay in bed together, and fool around all night.”

“Hmmmm… that sounds promising.”

“Plus, I know my body really well. And I can tell you no one knows how to make that body feel as good as I do.”

“Is that so?”

He walks closer to me seductively and Im starting to get hard again.

“I’ll nibble on those nipples, toy around with my balls…I bet you these hands are going to feel so good working that cock..”

He reaches into my bathing suit and I gasp.

“Fuckkk, I guess I’ll be staying tonight,” I say barely getting words out.

“Hell yeah!!!”

3 Months Later:

“Babe, are you packed? We got to be at your parents in a couple of hours… Babe?”

“Hi”

“Are you kidding?”

“We have time for a quick round, sides I’ll jerk you off using these sexy toes,” I say wiggling my feet at my boyfriend.

“Fuckkk… I guess we have time.”

Marco pulls off his shirt and I see the definition built into my former chest. He’s been hitting the gym a lot lately and everyday he’s looking sexier and sexier.

Marco pulls off his shorts and he’s already hard from these feet. It works like a charm every time.

I watch as my boyfriend grabs the foot that used to belong to him and he kisses every toe.

It’s crazy how quick the time had flown since we woke up as each other. I guess it helps that we are so in love with one another.

I start rubbing the cock that used to belong to me and now I’m hard.

“Babe, you are so talented with those toes… mhmmm that feels good.”

I use both feet and stroke back and forth.

He stops me for a second and plants my foot on his face.

“Did you work today without any socks on?”

“Hell yeah I did.”

He takes a big sniff of them.

“Fuckkk, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#body swap #male body swap #male tf #permanent tf #body theft #straight to gay

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johnnysuhbmarine · 7 months ago

Text

What's my Problem? That's Easy, You.

Pairing: Haechan x reader Description: There’s no one on this planet that you hate more than your roommate’s best friend, Haechan, and he hates you back just the same. Though, sharing a best friend meant you had to see him all the time. When giving into one impulse desire ends with the two of you making out, it quickly develops into a friends (or enemies) with benefits relationship that the two of you agree to keep quiet about. Surely nothing could go wrong, right? Content warnings: swearing, insults, talk about sex, Haechan in skinny jeans, Haechan’s girlfriend (later ex) is really mean to him, lots of eye rolling and head shaking, sexual harassment from reader’s professor, death (not a main character but it affects Haechan), lots of making out…taking off shirts…etc, Haechan is hot and arrogant but kind of a loser when it comes to y/n (eventually), mention of a choking kink, corpse lyrics, they have sex but it’s closed-door/SFW, Haechan makes one really poor decision, angst with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. Word count: 21,108 :) A/n: Happy Haechan day! This has been in the works for entirely too long, but I’m excited to finally release a longer fic rather than one shots. This was only written because I had to do something after seeing Haechan in the ISTJ dance practice video cause he’s never left my mind since. Shout out to @fullsunstrawberry for listening to me talk about this fic instead of me actually writing it. Hey bestie, *waves* it’s finally finished :) Please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do. As always, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

You open the door to your apartment-style dorm room, and when you see a figure on the couch, you assume it’s your best friend and roommate, Jessica. The two of you met in a class last year and you were over the moon at the idea of rooming with her for the rest of university rather than the roommates you currently had at the time. However, instead of laying eyes on your best friend, it’s a guy you’ve never seen before, casually sprawled out on your couch. You jump in surprise and furrow your eyebrows as you address his presence. “Wha- who are you?!”

He moves his gaze from the TV up to where you were, still at the door. “Haechan…Jessica’s best friend? I’m sure she’s talked about me. Who are you?” He replies in a condescending tone, looking completely unenthused to be talking with you and, within seconds, you were beginning to feel much the same. You shake your head, annoyed.

“No, I’m the one who lives here so I’m asking the questions. What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You ask, though now just wondering how long it would be until he left.

He looks at you as though you were stupid, like talking to you was a waste of his time. Regardless, he gives you somewhat of an answer. “Are you dense? I’m hanging out with Jessica today. She let me in before she went back to go get ready.”

You freeze, anger coursing through your veins at the audacity of this guy. “I’m not dense. God, I hate people like you.” You spit back. Haechan raises his brows tauntingly.

“‘People like me’ as in?”

“Arrogant dickheads whose brain power is just used to keep track of how many beds they’ve been in.” You finish, rolling your eyes before moving to set down your backpack and grab what you actually came back to your dorm for - your purse. You miss the devilish smirk that Haechan bears on his face, but you don’t miss the cocky laugh that escapes his figure before he speaks up again as you cross the room.

“Strange, I don’t remember bringing up my sex life before this. It must be on your mind then, huh?” He replies seriously, getting you to pause again. You ball your hands into fists, taking a few steps so that you were back in each other’s line of sight before arguing with him some more.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You think everyone is thinking about sex with you. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not that attractive.” You say, more than glad when your last statement came out firm and serious…you typically weren’t good at lying.

Haechan lets out another laugh, stretching his arms up and bringing his hands together at the back of his head. “Yeah?” He questions lazily. “You’re not that hot yourself, sunshine.”

The nickname has your blood boiling. “Never call me that again. Besides, it doesn’t even make sense. You say I’m not hot and then call me sunshine. You know the sun is 15 million degrees Celsius, right?” You remark, but instead of making Haechan feel stupid, you seemingly gave him more ammunition.

“Oh,” he says as though he just figured out the answer to life. “So, you’re a nerd. I get it.” He adds, a stupid grin on his face.

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“You don’t get out much do you? Just spend all your time memorizing pointless facts and praying someone along the way finally has to find that attractive since you know you won’t pull a guy with your looks?”

You freeze, in a deadlocked stare with Haechan, both of your gazes filled with resentment. It wasn’t a pointless fact - you were an astronomy and physics double major, but saying that wouldn’t provide him with anything but more reason to call you a nerd, and the last thing you felt like doing was addressing the part about your looks. Instead, you shake your head, then motion to the purse you were now carrying rather than your backpack. “I’m going out right now, thank you very much. God. Tell Jessica to let me know whenever you’re going to be over. I’ll make sure to never be home for it. I don’t know how she can tolerate someone like you.” You spit out, turning to open the front door again.

“Right back at you.” Haechan replies, not letting up on his glare until the door’s completely closed again, then turning lazily back to the TV just as Jessica walks out from the bathroom.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you just talking to like that?” She questions, eyebrows raised, more than curious at the identity of who riled up Haechan like that.

Haechan shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t on the phone. Your roommate came in…and then left again.”

Jessica’s face drops from curiosity to disbelief. “You were arguing with y/n like that?!”

Haechan shrugs. “If that’s the name of your irritating roommate, then yeah.” Jessica rolls her eyes, doing the mental calculations of how long this semester was going to feel with her two best friends hating each other.

When you get back from bar and trivia night with your friends a few hours later, your living room couch is back to just being occupied by Jessica. You smile at her as you walk in and lock the door behind you, but her face when you turn back around is more grave than you think you’ve ever seen.

“We’re gonna have to talk about you and Hyuck.” She says seriously, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“Who the hell is Hyuck?” You laugh, and Jess just rolls her eyes playfully, nodding her head to motion for you to sit down next to her on the couch.

She looks you in the eyes intently. “Haechan.” She says, and your playful demeanor drops in an instant. “His real name is Donghyuck- but that’s besides the point. Look, he’s been my best friend for more than half of my life. He’s had an extra key to wherever I’m living every year of college so far…”

“No.” You answer firmly, and Jessica sighs.

“Y/n, he’s not a bad guy-” She starts, but you shake your head.

“I don’t care if he’s bad, I care that he’s the most aggravating person I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to have a key to this place.”

Jessica raises her eyebrows. “Not even if it doubles as a safety mechanism having someone other than the two of us be able to get in here should we need help?”

Technically, that could come in handy, but you don’t care. “No.” You reply, trying your best to be dismissive of the topic, but it’s apparently really important to Jessica.

“Y/n…” She says softly, and you roll your eyes with a huff of breath.

“Fine, but he’s not allowed to just come over whenever he’s bored. You two need to have set plans for him to use his extra key.”

“Deal!” She says as she lights up, and you try to imagine yourself in her position - you’d probably want to keep the tradition of giving your best friend an extra key, too…though your other best friend wouldn’t be as annoying as Haechan. Regardless, you liked seeing Jessica happy, and if this was what it took, then so be it.

A week later, you and Jessica found yourselves sitting on the couch watching Bones, a typical after-homework routine. It became disgustingly less typical when your attention was turned to the sound of a key unlocking the door to your dorm. You hide your groan but nothing stops your eye roll as soon as you see Haechan. His gaze passes right over you as he greets Jessica, apparently his goal today was just to pretend you didn’t exist. You couldn’t be too peeved - the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. However, you could be mad because you don’t remember Jessica saying anything about having plans with him today, and you watch as your one guideline for him having an extra key slips down the drain.

Jessica doesn’t think anything of it, of course she wouldn’t, he’s one of her best friends. “Hey Hyuck, we’re watching Bones if you want to join.” She says neutrally. Somewhere along the line, Haechan must have figured out you weren’t just a demon in one of his nightmares, because you had the pleasure of being the subject of his reply.

“Not if she’s still going to be here, too.” He says sternly, causing you to scoff.

“I was here first, you dick.”

At your side, Jessica sighs, seeming to know exactly where this was going as Haechan’s eyes light with fire. “Okay idiot, and I was her friend first.” He spits back, making you clench your jaw…and a fist. A multitude of insults could be thrown your way and you would’ve brushed it off, but ‘idiot?’ That gets under your skin every time. Though, because you were Jessica’s best friend, she knew that, and immediately jumped to calm you down.

“Okay…” She says, gently grabbing you by the shoulders and settling you back down into the couch. “Y/n, you are not an idiot, I promise. And Hyuck…” she continues, moving her flat gaze over to him. “You’re not a dick - though you make it very hard to defend you sometimes.” As Jessica finished, her gaze flicked back and forth between you and Haechan. The two of you shot your gaze off towards completely different walls of the dorm, refusing to look at the other even in the slightest. Jessica waited five seconds for either of you to say anything, but when that didn’t happen, she spoke up again.

“You guys are insufferable.” She begins with a sigh. “You know it’s my birthday this weekend. I was looking forward to being able to spend it with my best friends…all of them.” Her words are soft and you know she’s serious. Your shoulders drop.

“Where are you going with this?” You ask, immediately shutting your eyes in preparation for the answer you knew you wouldn’t want to face.

“Is it even in the realm of possibility for the two of you to get along for just one night? One dinner?” Jessica asks hopefully. You and Haechan finally whip your heads around to face Jessica, a matching look of terror on both of your faces.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.” You respond at the same time.

Jessica rolls her eyes, and you hate it because it meant your responses actually put her in a sour mood…and all you ever wanted as her best friend was for her to be happy. The horrible news is that she knew this, and used it to her advantage against the both of you. “If I put you on opposite sides of the table, could you at least be civil? For me.” She adds, the cherry on top of her already disheartened tone.

You and Haechan take one small glance at each other, enough to reach the same conclusion before you both respond. “Fine.” A smirk reaches Jessica’s face and you shake your head, getting up from the couch to instead find solace in your bedroom, letting Haechan take your spot without another word.

In what you thought was too little time, it was already the evening of Jessica’s birthday dinner. The dress code was fancier than you were used to, but all you had time for was one sigh at yourself in the mirror before Jessica was rushing you out the door. The two of you getting in the car must have been the trigger for her to start going over the game plan again, because the first thing she said as she pulled out of the parking lot of your dorm was, “there’s going to be thirteen of us there tonight. You and Haechan won’t be anywhere near each other, but even so, please just try and not hate him an overwhelming amount tonight.”

You drop your head to face your lap with a laugh. “Don’t worry. You know me, you know the last thing on my mind is ruining your birthday. I’ll be good.”

Her light laugh and nod in response let you know she believed you, and as she pulled to a stop light she looked your way for a moment. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

You roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Look who’s talking.” You say seriously. Your best friend was always gorgeous, but times like these it was hard to do anything but stare. Jessica shakes her head.

“Well, you know. ‘Dress to impress’ and all that.” She replies, and you whip your head towards her, your words coming out as though you were frightened.

“Who are you trying to impress? Please don’t tell me it’s Haechan. Oh my God. No. I can stand the two of you being friends but you cannot date him or I might die.”

At this, Jessica rolls her eyes, taking time to laugh rather than save you from your worst nightmare. “Y/n, how many times have I talked to you about guys in a romantic sense? Has any of it ever been about Haechan? No.” She answers for you. “It’s always been about…” This time she drags off and leaves you to fill in the blanks yourself. You finally get over the horror that could have faced you and your mind clears, causing you to light up.

“Mark! Wait, Mark is coming?!” You ask excitedly, making her laugh some more.

“Yes, Mark is coming. We are really good friends, after all. I’m just thinking if he sees me all dressed up, he’ll finally realize he has to ask me on a date sooner than later or someone else will. I’m getting tired of waiting for his dorky ass.” She replies, and you raise your eyebrows - you know she would wait forever for Mark, not that she necessarily should, but she would.

The two of you arrive at the restaurant to find out you were the first ones there for the party and start on checking in for the reservation. Then, as you both turn around from the host stand, you’re greeted with Mark and Haechan walking in together. You’re sure Mark looked great, but you would be lying if you said you even took one look at him. Instead, all of your attention was on Haechan, his white button-up tightly hugging his body, the look complete with rolled-up sleeves. You did your best not to stare, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyways, he wasn’t paying any attention to you. Instead, he was now entirely engrossed in conversation with Mark and Jessica. You don’t even know if he knew you were here, and in that moment you realized tonight was going to prove a lot harder than you originally thought, because you hated Haechan an overwhelming amount.

Thankfully, the rest of the party arrived soon after and you were all quickly seated, Jessica in the middle with you and Haechan at complete opposite ends as promised. Instead, you got to sit and talk with Winter and Jisung. Overall, you really couldn’t complain. Winter was one of the first friends you made on campus. On the other hand, you and Jisung had been partnered for a project one semester that saw the two of you sharing way too many 2:00 am coffees as you tried to squeeze the semester project into the span of two weeks - your friendship with Jisung feels more so like the result of trauma bonding, but you wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

That being said, dinner went pretty smoothly. After eating your main course, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, but you didn’t even make it ten steps before you realized you were being trailed. As you step into the hallway where the doors to the restrooms were, you turn around to face Haechan. “Really? You couldn’t wait until I was back at the table?” You ask plainly. Haechan furrows his brows.

“I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even realize you had gotten up from the table. I wasn’t paying any attention to you.” He remarks, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, all you ever do is pretend I don’t exist. How could I forget?” You say sarcastically.

Haechan scoffs, shaking his head. “Well, all you do is hate me for existing, so I feel like it’s a pretty even balance. Besides, every time I acknowledge your existence, it ends up like this.”

You pause for a moment, glaring at Haechan. Was it truly easier to pretend you didn’t exist rather than deal with the fact that you do. “I hate you.” You finally say. Haechan feigns surprise, moving a hand over his heart as if he’s just been shot. Though, his face neutralizes in an instant.

“I hate you, too. Can we get on with why we’re actually here now?” He asks, nodding his head towards the men’s room as he looks towards you with disinterest. You clench your jaw, not bothering to give him a verbal response as you walk into the ladies room, where you finally let yourself breathe again.

The rest of the dinner party went by quickly, and suddenly it was just you and Jessica back in her car. “Well, that went really well!” She said, beaming. You could hardly match the enthusiasm, though.

“Yeah…”

She chanced a look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Did it not go really well?”

“It was fine.” You reply softly, shaking your head. You didn’t want to ruin the night now after appearing to have successfully made it through dinner.

“You two weren’t even around each other.” She says, her underlying tone letting you know how confused she was.

“We ran into each other by the bathrooms.” You say, shrugging in your seat.

Jessica grimaces. “Didn’t go well, I’m guessing.”

You let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “I don’t understand what his problem is.”

“He doesn’t have a problem.” Jessica replies with a light laugh, and you shoot your gaze over to her in question.

“Really? So, he’s just always a dick?” You ask, trying your best to keep your tone light while also letting her know that, if that’s normal Haechan, you were harshly judging her choice of friends.

Jessica smiles, a small laugh coming out that’s more so just an exhale. “No…but maybe the issue is just the fact that you hate him. Maybe if you were a little nicer to him, he would calm down, too.” She says, doing her best to be convincing, but you just shake your head.

“I don’t want to be nice to him. Not ever.” You say firmly, and surprising you, Jessica just shrugs lightly.

“Well, I tried.”

You frown, looking over at her in the driver’s seat. “Sorry…it was a really fun birthday party, though.” You say, hoping she knew that Haechan didn’t ruin your day and praying that in turn, you didn’t ruin hers.

There seemed to be no reason to worry, though, because at the mention of the actual dinner party, Jessica lit back up. “Oh, you don’t need to tell me. I had a blast, and you and Haechan took care of all your fighting off-screen. Doesn’t bother me any.” She replies with a laugh, getting you to lighten up, too. Creating cause for excitement in itself, conversation for the rest of the drive back had nothing to do with Haechan. Instead, you learned that Mark did, in fact, figure out that his window of opportunity was closing and now he and Jessica have an official date tomorrow. In other words, the two of you squealed the rest of the way home.

It was close to a week later when you next saw Haechan again. It took Mark and Jessica one date to realize that they wanted to make things official, so you ended up seeing Mark around much more often than Haechan for a little bit. Though on Friday, the familiar turn of the key in the door was heard while you and Jessica were watching Bones in the living room, and you knew your mortal enemy was making his comeback after six days.

Jessica paused the TV and you immediately got up from the couch, bringing your empty bowl of ramen to the kitchen so you could start on cleaning it. Then, Haechan finally made his way through the front door. You don’t bother looking up to greet his presence, he never did for you anyways. However, in an instant, Jessica was off the couch and grabbed Haechan by the wrist, stopping him from sitting down.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” She says as Haechan turns to look at her.

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, I’m fine. They just wanted me to try a new brand of contacts since my other ones got discontinued, but these irritate my eyes. I just haven’t had the chance to go back and switch brands again, and I’m not really in the mood to pay for more contacts and waste all the money I just spent on these.”

“Take them out.” She replies instantly, and Haechan lets out something of a forced laugh.

“Well that’s the thing, these are weekly contacts, and I don’t have a case or solution with me to store them…and I don’t want to buy all that just for me to possibly switch back to daily contacts again soon.”

Jessica lets his wrist drop, seemingly understanding. From the kitchen, you shake your head, not remembering when you became so invested in the first place. In an instant, you finish with your bowl and head to your room without a word.

You lasted in your bedroom doing homework for about an hour, which, everything considered, you thought was pretty good, but then you couldn’t stand the constant noise anymore from the other side of your bedroom wall. You threw all of your things into your backpack, getting up and storming out of the room.

“Agh! I hate his guts! I’m going to the library.” You proclaim loudly as you step back out towards the living room.

On the couch, Haechan looks over at Jessica. “She talks about me a lot, doesn’t she? I didn’t even do anything this time.” He says with a laugh, but you just glare at him.

“Grow up, not everything is about you.” You spit out before heading towards the door.

Jessica waits for you to be completely gone before she ever answers Haechan. “Ha, she’s actually talking about our neighbor on the right. Their bedrooms share a wall and he has an unrivaled sex drive. I think she was traumatized the first time she heard…it. Though now, it’s just extra noise and it irritates the hell out of her when she’s trying to study.” Haechan’s jaw drops in surprise, the corners of his mouth wavering as he tries not to laugh. Jessica shakes her head, a smile coming onto her face. “It’s a little bit funny.” She says, getting Haechan to finally break into a smile too before continuing their conversation from before you left. Though, with it being a Friday, it wasn’t too much longer before they themselves were out of the house, though their destination was the bar instead of the library.

The next few nights came and went, until suddenly it was Tuesday again, when Haechan and Jess typically grabbed dinner together. You were doing homework at the coffee table, figuring a change in scenery would help you focus - that and the fact that your neighbor on the right was having another fun night. Jessica was still getting ready in her room when Haechan walked in through the front door. From the couch, you move your gaze towards him, figuring out he’s been holding out on you when it comes to his clothes. Today, he showed up in a black t-shirt, totally normal and fine, though said shirt was tucked into blue skinny jeans, not totally normal nor fine.

“You’re staring.” Haechan says, bringing you back to real life. You shake your head, finally meeting his disinterested eyes.

“You don’t need to wear skinny jeans ever again.” You say flatly, and Haechan just scoffs before letting a smirk cross his face.

“My girlfriend wouldn’t take kindly to you telling me what to do.” He replies, and the news of a girlfriend only shocks you for a second before you snap back.

“Girlfriend? Wow, maybe you’ll get less annoying now that you’ve found someone willing to suck your dick.” You say, your face lighting up, although your tone conveyed how little hope you actually had in that happening.

Haechan narrows his eyes at you, his smirk turning evil. “Oh, I have a long, distinguished list of willing volunteers. Have you found anyone willing to suck yours yet?”

“Very funny.” You reply monotonously. Haechan just rolls his eyes, about hitting his limit of words spoken to you for the day.

“Where’s Jess?” He asks, his typical disinterest when it comes to you now back in his tone. You shake your head before nodding it in the direction of her room, not wanting to bother with actually talking to him anymore, either.

The next week, a casual Thursday night that you and Jessica thought you had to yourselves was disrupted with a soft knock on the door, and Jessica moved from the couch to open it, promptly stepping back to let Haechan inside, and you hate the fact that his loophole to not using his front door key unless he actually had plans with Jessica was just to knock instead. He walks in normally, but Jessica grabs his forearm with raised eyebrows. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” She asks, considering the conversation from a little over a week ago.

You watch from the couch as Haechan visibly gulps, dropping his head to try and cover up his saddened expression. “...she doesn’t like when I wear them.” He states, and immediately you and Jessica both know he’s talking about his girlfriend. Despite never meeting her, you hated her guts. Ever since she got with Haechan, all she’s done is be toxic. You know so, because Haechan ends up at your dorm basically every night seeking comfort from Jessica after his girlfriend spends their dates degrading him the entire time.

You immediately pop up from the couch and storm to your room, slamming the door behind you, though that was more so accidental. How Haechan’s girlfriend treated him was none of your business, and not worth you getting worked up over, but his constant need to decompress in Jessica’s presence meant you had to see him a lot more than you would have ever liked, and that’s where you started having problems. If his girlfriend was actually nice and cared about him, you probably would have never had to see him again because he’d be spending so much time with her…it was your luck that the opposite happened.

Almost two weeks passed of seeing Haechan every single day, and you started just strictly staying in your room any time past 5:00 to try and avoid seeing him completely. Though, when the next Tuesday rolled around, you were the one to open the door in response to the firm knocks. You knew Haechan and Jess were going out to grab dinner tonight, it was a weekly thing, so you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just use his key. In an odd turn of events, the first thing Haechan says as he steps through the door frame is ‘thank you.’ You stand there in shock, and he takes it as a sign that he needed to elaborate. “Sorry, I didn’t come from my house so I don’t have my extra key to this place.” He explains, but now you’re hardly listening to his words. Instead, taking the proximity provided by neither of you leaving the doorway to study his face with a frown.

“Are you wearing makeup?” You question with furrowed brows. Surprising you, Haechan ducked his head, and his voice was weaker than you’ve ever heard as he responded.

“She said I have too many flaws on my skin right now and it was embarrassing her.” Your eyes widen. His girlfriend. His girlfriend, the reason he’s stopped wearing glasses and apparently the reason he has foundation and concealer covering his face right now. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. This is where you draw the line.

“Fuck that.” You spit out, grabbing Haechan’s wrist and dragging him to the bathroom with you.

He glances towards your physical contact before looking back up at you with scrunched eyebrows. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He asks as you place tons of different items on the counter.

“Taking off your makeup.” You reply sternly, and his eyes go wide.

“No, you can’t. Please.” He begs, and your heart chips a little. Your hand freezes above the water tap, sighing deeply in place of turning on the sink.

“Did you want to put it on or did she make you?” You ask softly, and Haechan’s face drops once again.

“She made me...” He replies in defeat, and you immediately turn the water on, much to his dismay. “You can’t take it off! I’m seeing her again tonight for something at her sorority!” His plea falls on deaf ears as you let the water warm up and start rubbing cleanser onto his face. You finally finish with your typical skin care routine for him, taking a step away to hang the washcloth to dry and start on putting your products away.

“If you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But don’t ever come over here in makeup she’s made you put on again, or I’ll give you a reason to need concealer.” You say offhandedly as you finish and walk out of the bathroom with Haechan in toe.

“Did you just threaten to punch me?” He asks, a scoff accompanying it.

“Of course I did. I despise you. You’re an annoying prick, but I don’t need you feeling bad about yourself for any reason other than that…especially for something like this.”

Haechan stares at you bewildered, trying to figure out if your words just meant what he thinks they did. “Y/n-”

“Have fun getting dinner with Jessica.” You cut him off, not giving his curiosity the satisfaction of an explanation. “Don’t worry about your girlfriend after…she won’t even notice. I gotta go do homework. Jess should be ready in a minute or so.” Then you were behind your closed bedroom door, fists clenched at your sides as you let anger run through your body. It wasn’t long before you heard Jessica come out of her room and start up a conversation with Haechan, and that was when you finally let yourself relax a little.

Haechan was the one to start intentionally avoiding you after that. You figure you probably crossed a line that enemies don’t, but you don’t regret it. You and Haechan weren’t friends anyways, so it’s not like him now avoiding you really changed anything - it just made your own efforts to avoid him even easier.

So, about a month passed of you and Haechan avoiding each other, and when that wasn’t an option, sending each other nasty glares and rude remarks. You tried not to start anything, seeing as his girlfriend was doing enough damage to his mental health in the first place, but you still couldn’t back down and let him win if he started anything. Nevertheless, it was your birthday today and you were determined to make it as great as it could be, starting with not having Haechan anywhere near your thoughts. Instead, you were more focused on the three classes you had today, almost all of your brain power going towards making up scenarios for how your conversation with your last professor would go.

As always, Dr. Choi never let your class out early, and you’re thankful you didn’t have a class following this or you would never get the time to ask him questions after. From your seat in the middle of the lecture hall, you made your way down to where his desk was set up, completely going against traffic as the rest of the students rushed towards the exits. As your footsteps grew closer to him, he looked up from his desk, a smile flashing across his face.

“Ah, y/n. You look…” He starts, and you freeze as you withstand his eyeing you up and down. You should’ve known better than to imagine a case where this conversation went any differently. Dr. Choi habitually let his gaze linger on you too long, even if you were in a big t-shirt and jeans, but now here you were dressed up for your birthday. “Are you here to ask for extra credit?” He continues, and you slightly cringe in disgust. You were too used to it to have a bigger reaction, and you knew that if you didn’t play it cool, he would be uncooperative anyways.

Instead, you just shake your head lightly as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “No, I was wondering if you could open up the exam again so I can see which questions I got wrong.” You reply seriously. You got a 96 on the exam in question, and you’re sure no one who gets a 96 on a quantum mechanics exam ever takes the time to care about those 4 lost points…but it almost bothered you more than if you failed. You weren’t unprepared - all that a 96 shows is that there’s something you genuinely did not know, and not being able to look at the answers after grades were posted wasn’t helping you figure out what that was.

Dr. Choi’s reply is fast, monotone…deliberate. “Depends on if you open up your legs.”

“Dr.-” You start flatly, but he’s quick to cut you off as his eyes light with fire.

“Into roleplay, are you?” He asks with a smirk, and if you were any less used to his behavior, you would have thrown up. Instead, you roll your eyes.

“No, Dr. Choi. You have a doctorate, so I’m being respectful. Is there any use in getting you to let me see the exam again?” You ask, staring him dead in the eye. His face loses its passion as he turns stoic, though maybe you could sense his disappointment in your dismissal.

“I told you my requirements.” He says somberly, and you just nod your head.

“Great. Thank you for your time.” You reply. Your walk out of class is natural in manner, but immediately once you get outside, your shoulders fall as you drop your head into your hands. You stand like that for only a moment to regain your composure, and then start up on your walk to your dorm. You had to get over it quickly and act like nothing was wrong. You still haven’t told Jessica about this professor. He was one of the heads of the physics department, so you’ve had to deal with him all the way up to now, and you’d have to deal with him after this course. You didn’t want Jessica to get all angry if there wasn’t anything you could do about it. So instead, you place a light smile back on your face and let yourself relax, knowing the rest of your birthday consists solely of time with your best friend - no vile professors, and no Haechan.

Another week goes by without a hitch, and so on Friday, you had spent most of the evening on the couch watching Bones. You had no homework and Jessica was out on a date with Mark for the night, not planning to get back until after 11:00. So, you figured you would occupy the living room rather than be huddled inside your bedroom hiding from Haechan if he had no reason to come over anyways. Though, it was only a little after 6:00 when the door to your dorm began to open, and you instinctively roll your eyes, knowing the only person it could be. “Jessica isn’t here, and frankly I’m gonna have to talk to her about you having an extra key-” You start as he opens the door, but then you finally see the state he’s in and worry begins to overtake your annoyance. “Haechan?!” You question, his tear-stained face a completely new sight to you.

His gaze has yet to be picked up off the floor, as he stands in complete defeat, his body shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if she would be here or not, and I couldn’t take the time to text and ask.”

You’re immediately up off the couch, though you’re still frozen in your spot a few feet away from him. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to make your voice sound calmer than you felt in an attempt to get at least some control of the situation.

Haechan shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have barged in. I shouldn’t be here.” He states, turning around to walk right back out of the door. He’s stopped though, by your firm tone.

“Lee Donghyuck, what is wrong?” This time, your question comes out more as a demand, and it’s enough to make Haechan freeze in his spot, dropping his hand that was reaching for the door knob.

“My dad got in a car accident. He didn’t even make it through the ambulance ride.” He says, his words cut up by his cries. Your world stops, and you just stare at him. You were already really bad at comforting people, and this was the last thing you were expecting to hear, not to mention the last person you expected to be confiding in you.

“Hyuck…” You begin, but all you can do is fumble for words you know won’t come. Haechan gives you the pleasure of cutting you off.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He replies, now fully crying again as he brings his hands up to cover his face. His sobs only silence for a second as he registers your touch. He brings his hands down to actually get visual confirmation that you were hugging him. You were standing in your living room and hugging your worst enemy, but you couldn’t just do nothing anymore. Your face pressed into his chest, you mumble out the best response you can muster.

“Here is just fine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I’m sorry Jessica isn’t home to be the one to comfort you. I’m sorry it’s me, instead. I know you probably have other friends but…I’m watching Bones if you want to join. We can watch, like, an entire season if you want, and I’ll order your favorite food. If you want. I just- don’t really want you alone right now, and I’m scared that if I kick you out, you won’t ever find your way back out of your bedroom.”

At your words, Haechan seems to settle a bit more into the hug, using one sleeve of his hoodie to dry up his tears before replying. “Bones sounds good. What season are you on?”

You pick your head back out of his chest, staring up at him with a weak smile, hoping it conveyed just how grateful you were that he accepted your offer. “Just started season four. Come on.”

You let go from the hug and motion for Haechan to find a place on the couch while you headed for the kitchen. While Haechan had been over more than you would have ever liked, your constant avoidance of him meant you had no clue what he actually liked. Instead, you stared at the open pantry with a frown before deciding to just grab all of your favorite snacks to share in hopes that he, too, enjoyed at least one of them.

You place them all down on the coffee table in front of the couch, but suddenly you feel too awkward to say anything. So, you just make hesitant eye contact with Haechan for a second or two before he breaks away to actually look at everything you brought over. Though, because you’re still staring, you manage to catch the faint “thank you” that left his lips as he reached for a bag of chips. Despite yourself, the corners of your mouth perk up in a soft smile as you finally move to sit down next to him on the couch…a few feet away, but next to him.

It would have been completely quiet had the show not been on. Apparently you and Haechan were still really bad at being even acquaintances. Though, with the introduction of a new character, you quickly found your in.

“God, she’s had like, two minutes of screen time and I already hate Agent Perotta.” You say with a slight laugh, trying not to let it show how nervous you were to talk to him. Instead of glaring at you or pretending your input was the last thing he needed, though, he nodded a bit, smiling.

“Thank God you said it, because I hate her, too, but as a man I feel like saying it out of the blue would be distasteful.” He replies, and before you could stop it, you let out a heavy exhale of laughter. Immediately, your hand reaches up to cover your face, but Haechan had already whipped his head towards you. “Did you just find me funny?” He questions, the smile on his face growing.

You quickly shake your head, though your face wears a matching smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This conversation is about Agent Perotta.” You say, looking back at the TV.

Haechan flashes his eyebrows up for a moment before redirecting his attention back to the show as well. “Yeah, I hate that bitch.” He says flatly, getting you to nod.

“I think this is the first thing we’ve ever agreed on.” You say, letting the shock factor show in your voice.

Haechan shakes his head, smiling in disbelief. “Should’ve known it was going to be about hating someone. Pretty sure you hate everyone except Jessica. I mean, what are we at now?” He teases, beginning to count them off on his fingers. “Me, Agent Perotta, your neighbor on the right, your professor who makes sexual comments about you…”

Immediately you jump up from the couch, staring at him with the widest of eyes. “WHAT?! How do you know about that?”

You watch as Haechan just shakes his head quickly, as if his previous statement would erase like an etch-a-sketch. “Oh, sorry. He’s on my list of people I hate. Mixed them up.” He replies like it’s nothing, and you don’t know how he’s being so nonchalant about this.

“Hyuck, we don’t share that class, how do you know about that professor? I haven’t even told Jessica.” You ask again, the panic beginning to seep through your words some more. You didn’t know how he knew, you didn’t know if he was going to tell Jessica, you didn’t know if it would change the way he viewed you, you didn’t know why Haechan’s view of you mattered because it was already shit anyways…all of it made you anxious.

Haechan hangs his head back, staring up at you from where he still sat lazily on the couch. “Please don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.” He responds, his orders strict but his voice calm. You just shake your head once more.

“Hyuck-” You start, but this time he rolls his eyes, finally getting fed up with the conversation.

“I just wanna watch Bones! Can we make this day about me again? Hello, I’m sad and in need of a light-hearted distraction in the form of crime-solving.” He says, his volume already much louder than it just previously was. Typically, his whining would just make you want to punch him, but he was right, at least a little bit. He was the one with the bigger stressor, and while it wasn’t a competition in the first place, you did want this to be a comforting time for him, not one where you grilled him over his knowledge of your personal life.

“Agh, you’re so difficult!” You shout back, though placing yourself down on the couch again anyways.

Haechan flashes a quick smile in response. “Great! You hate me, we hate Agent Perotta, we’re back on track. Press play.” He says, moving his arms out towards the TV in a showy fashion that you hated. Though, with Agent Perotta back on screen, it did bring up another truth.

“...I hate you less than I hate her.” You say quietly, but with your focus back on Bones, you miss Haechan’s smartass smirk falling into something softer in response. Then, Bones is the only sound to fill the dorm again.

A few hours and entirely too much takeout later, the front door opens again as Jessica walks through.

“Hey y/n, I’m home-” She starts, locking the door, but then she finally turns around to the living room and her jaw drops. “Hyuck?!”

“Hey!” You reply as though nothing were amiss. Jessica looks back and forth between you and Haechan more times than you could count, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You two are hanging out??” She questions, and Haechan just shrugs.

“I had a bad day. Needed some comfort.” He replies neutrally, but Jessica’s eyes just grow wider.

“So you decided to hang out with y/n? Who you typically can’t stand to be in a room with for more than 0.5 seconds.”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Jessica, he came over to see if you were here.” You say, stating the obvious. It doesn’t help Jessica’s shock.

“But when he saw it was just you, he stayed?” She asks, and you’re pretty sure you saw the mania start to set in behind her eyes.

“We’ve been watching Bones.” Haechan says with a smile.

Jessica shakes her head in disbelief. “And neither of you find this strange?”

“We hate Agent Perotta.” You reply with a smirk, and suddenly a wave of clarity washes over Jessica.

“Ah, common ground. Makes more sense.” She says calmly as she starts making her way to the couch as well. “Well, mind if I join-” She starts, but then Haechan’s phone begins to ring and he’s up off the couch in an instant.

“My mom is calling. I have to go.” He says, and the sadness and worry that you had managed to kill over the past few hours reappears in his voice in no time.

“Hyuck?” Jessica questions, but he just shakes his head in dismissal.

“I have to go.” He restates, and then makes his way to the door. You watch from the couch as he starts to leave, probably to go drive to meet his mom - this late at night…driving. Panic erupts in your system.

“Haechan,” you cry out, scrambling off the couch. He whips his body back around to face you rather than the door. Without thinking, you wrap Haechan in a hug, speaking softly into his shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

Haechan lets out a small sigh, knowing exactly where your mind was at. Gently, he places his arms around you, as well. “I hate you less than I hate her, too.” He says softly in place of replying to your last statement. You freeze in his arms and he’s the first to let go, his phone beginning to ring again and reminding the both of you he had somewhere to be. He’s quickly out the front door, leaving you to just turn back around towards Jessica on the couch.

“What was that?” She asks, completely confused again. You just shake your head.

“It’s really not for me to tell you. Haechan just…got really bad news today. But you’re his actual best friend, he’ll tell you as soon as he can, I’m sure. Then you can take over my role and do a much better job at comforting him or so help me God.” You reply, a small laugh accompanying the end of your sentence before you continue. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed, if you don’t mind. I hope your date with Mark went really well.” Jessica just nods from the couch, a little dumbfounded by your behavior if you had to guess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain any further.

Within the following week, Haechan had told Jessica about his dad. However, he also told her another piece of news, which Jessica immediately relayed to you once she got back from hanging out with him.

“Hey, just thought I would let you know that Haechan and his girlfriend broke up.” She says after entering your dorm. You look up at her from the kitchen table, eyes wide.

“What?!” You question with more emotion than you could have imagined, but with the situation with his dad, was this really when she had to break it off and hurt him further. Jessica doesn’t answer your question, probably because it was incredibly vague. Instead, she moves on to her actual point of telling you.

“So, he might be over even more often than before.” She says carefully, trying to gauge how pissed you were gonna be at that piece of news. You just shake your head.

“Did he say why they broke up?” You don’t know why you asked, you didn’t care, but Jessica didn’t seem to think any of it was out of the ordinary.

“No, but he’s pretty torn up about it, which sucks because we both know how horrible she was to him.” Right, regardless of what horrible timing this was because of his already sad state, his girlfriend, or ex, probably wasn’t helping anyways while they were together. You figure Haechan dodged a bullet with the relationship ending sooner rather than later. You nod in response, speaking through a sigh as the past memories and stories about his ex replayed in your mind.

“Yeah…”

Jessica seems to be doing the same, but she shakes out of it quicker than you. “I think I’m gonna take him out to the bars next weekend or something. I don’t have a lot of free time right now, but I figure he could use a night out.” She says neutrally, and you nod, letting her know you probably couldn’t come up with a better idea.

“Yeah.”

Then two weeks later, you were telling Jessica to be safe as she left for the bars with Haechan. She extended the invite, but you figured Haechan probably had enough of you trying to support and comfort him, so you just told her that you’d stay home and to call if they needed a ride back. At one in the morning, that call came, but it was from Haechan rather than Jessica, and as you pick up, you forget the entire reason they went out tonight, your mind running on autopilot once you see his name light up your phone screen.

“What do you want?” You ask, your disgust at his call hardly hidden in your voice. You immediately feel bad though when he responds and his tone is much gentler than the one you used for him.

“Hey, Jess was the one who apparently needed to unwind tonight, so I let her do all the drinking at the bar…too much, apparently. I was gonna drive her back to your place but she was concerned about ruining whatever image she thinks you have of her in your head, so instead of her getting sick at your place, I let her get sick at mine. She just got in the shower, but I gotta be honest, now that I’m home, I’m pretty exhausted. Do you think you could come grab her?” He asks, and for a moment, you smile softly. You could tell Jessica had been stressed the past few weeks, truly probably needing the night out more than Haechan, and it was comforting knowing that he didn’t drink so that he could look out for her at the bar and back home.

You nod your head before realizing he couldn’t see it, and then you speak up, much softer than before. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Send me your address.” You say, then hanging up and grabbing your things to head his way.

Haechan opens the door in response to your knocking, the familiar bored expression back on his face. “You got here quicker than I thought you would…Jessica is still in the shower.” He states, as though your early presence was a huge inconvenience. You don’t pay attention to his tone, though. Your mind focuses on his clothes as you unintentionally scan his body up and down.

“Skinny jeans, huh?” You question with a straight face, meeting his eyes again as he smirks down at you.

“Well, I knew there was a high probability I’d see you tonight so I thought it would be fun to torment you-” You don’t know what came over you, but surely it wasn’t your fault. You told him not to wear skinny jeans ever again, and he did so just to spite you. Somehow, it all made him really hot, and you find yourself cutting off his words as you press your lips to his. You pull away quickly, shock covering both your faces as you simply stare at each other, eyes wide and breath heavy as you process what you just did.

You swallow hard, trying to remedy your suddenly dry throat. Your courage to look him in the eyes diminishes within milliseconds, and you drop your face towards the floor, which seemed to irritate Haechan to no end because as soon as your gaze met the floor, he walked the one step back over to you, grabbing your jaw to the point where it almost hurt and forcing you to look his way again. Then he kissed you harshly, and you fell right in line.

There was no romance in the kiss. Instead, something like lust had your tongues fighting for dominance with each other as your hands tried to memorize every part of Haechan’s body. The two of you moved with intensity, stumbling around the room because you couldn’t possibly stay still with the amount of passion embedded in this kiss. The first time you remember breaking away wasn’t so you could take a breath. You were fine never needing oxygen again. Instead you broke away to pull his shirt up over his head, discarding it to the side without much care. You immediately press your lips back onto his, but he’s quick to pull back this time, looking at you with a shake of his head as his eyes move back and forth between your two bodies.

“No fair!” He complains, causing you to roll your eyes before removing your own shirt to reveal your black lace bra because the universe was apparently on your side when you got dressed today. You watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he takes you in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “No fair…” He whispers before rushing to close the distance between you two again, but this time, his lips don’t land on yours. Instead, they find your chest as his hands squeeze at your waist. You throw your head back in response, giving Haechan the ability to leave a trail of kisses from your chest up your neck, stopping in the middle to nip at somewhere near your collarbone before his continued exploration, and you thank God that Jessica has the shower running to cover up the moan it produced from you. He kisses up your neck and jaw before eventually finding his way to your lips again, and you waste no time getting your tongue back in his mouth. Before you know it, he’s picking you up, just to throw you right back down on the couch. Your eyes open in surprise, but then the sight of him on top of you has you unable to function. For some godforsaken reason, he’s able to read you completely, chuckling as he looks at your breathless expression.

The sound of his laugh gets you to break out of it, and you rush to connect your lips with his again. Your hands trace up and down his bare back, your nails sending goosebumps to his entire body as they claw at certain spots. Your hands get caught in his belt loops, causing a smile to cover your face and impeding your ability to kiss him, but you couldn’t help finding humor in the fact that his skinny jeans caused all of this. You shake your head, pulling away from the kiss for a moment and making Haechan pout before he moves to suck on your neck again.

“God, you have such a slutty waist for no reason.” You spit out in feigned anger, hands resuming their roaming over his figure. Haechan pops up so his eyes could meet yours. A playful smirk on his face covering up the split second glance you got of him looking ready to devour you.

“You love my slutty waist.” He responds confidently, and while you would love to prove him wrong, you can’t bring yourself to. So, you open and close your mouth, fighting for words that would never come out, and for a moment, Haechan looks down at you with something resembling fondness written over his features, though you were positive you were making that up. He shakes his head softly with a smile before leaning back down to kiss you, and once his lips were on yours, his entire demeanor was coated with a certain roughness and desire again that had you weak.

The only thing that pulled the two of you out of your bubble was the sound of the shower turning off, and suddenly your background noise was gone, making everything feel more real. Haechan broke out of the kiss with wide eyes, rushing to get off from on top of you as he grabbed your shirts from the floor, throwing yours over to you as he fumbled to put his own shirt back on.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He says sternly, running a hand through his hair to get it back to somewhat normal. You rush to put your shirt back on, bounding off the couch before Jessica could walk out of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You reply in kind, refusing to acknowledge the pit in your stomach that formed as Haechan gave an uninterested eyebrow flash and went to busy himself in the kitchen, preparing to act normal for whenever Jessica eventually walked out so you could take her home.

It was only three days later when you saw Haechan again. More excited than usual for their Tuesday dinner, Jessica opened the door before Haechan could even use his key. “Hey!” She greets with a smile which he reflects right back.

“Hey!” He replies, actually stepping into your living room.

Jessica immediately starts talking about how she’s not even close to being ready yet but was swamped with homework and couldn’t wait for the forced study break that came with dinner, even though she had to go make herself look presentable first. Haechan nodded along, but you’re not sure he was listening at all, because even though Jessica was right in front of him, his gaze kept wandering over to you on the couch before he could noticeably snap his focus back to Jessica. You tried to stay natural, that way if Jessica actually followed his gaze over to you, she wouldn’t immediately suspect something. Though, when Jessica did finally go back to start getting ready for dinner, you jumped off the couch and dragged Haechan by the collar towards the corner of the room furthest away from hers.

“You have to stop being so weird around me. Jessica is gonna know something happened.” You say sternly, though you kept your voice at a near whisper just in case you weren’t as far away from Jessica as you thought. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over Haechan. He had never been this uncool before.

Haechan shakes his head, keeping his volume low though his words were more frantic than yours. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” You take a small step back in surprise, finally letting go of your grip on his shirt. That was probably the last thing you were expecting him to say, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart jump up in your throat.

“So…” You start, begging for clarification on what that meant.

Haechan moves his head down so that he’s able to make better eye contact with you, so that you could see the seriousness in his gaze. “So can we maybe see each other when Jessica isn’t getting ready in the next room?”

You swallow hard at the question. “That sounds like a lot of sneaking around.”

“It’s worth it for you.” He replies instantaneously, making you freeze again. He was saying a very right thing under what felt like the wrong context, and despite yourself, you try to remedy that.

“But- does it have to be all sneaky? I mean, couldn’t we just-” Though, that’s as far as he lets you get before he cuts you off, shaking his head with a small laugh.

“Y/n, be real. We don’t like each other. This isn’t something emotional, it’s physical. Yeah?” Right, this was your mortal enemy you were talking to. You guys didn’t like each other. An actual relationship would be the worst idea in the world, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he looks like a dream in skinny jeans…and you’d take what you could get.

“Yeah- uh, yeah. Let’s do it.” You reply, and Haechan flashes you a killer smirk before breaking away and settling himself on the couch to wait for Jessica to get done. You don’t join him, already feeling dizzy from the conversation. Instead, you just find refuge in your bedroom until they leave, but that night didn’t end without a text from Haechan, already making plans.

You and Haechan quickly fell into routine. The first time you went over to his house under the guise of you going to study at the library, you hardly said two words to each other. Instead, Haechan opened his door to your presence and immediately pulled you inside by your arm, pushing you towards the general direction of the couch so he could get on top of you.

The next time you came over, he opened the door to see your bright smile. “Hey, Hyuck-!” You could hardly get your words out before he pulled you inside and pinned you against the now closed door. Through heavy pants in between harsh kisses, he speaks.

“I love it when you call me that.”

You involuntarily smile a bit as you do your best to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Your name?” You ask sarcastically as he sucks on your neck.

He pops his head back up so he can look you in the eyes as he replied. “My name that the people who I care about call me.” You freeze, chills running through your entire body at his words, and in that moment, you knew you were fucked, because this was not just physical to you. Haechan was naturally flirty - a sweet talker. That wasn’t hard to deduce from his looks alone. He was hot and he knew it, which also meant he knew how to get whatever girl he wanted for the time being, but the idea of being a ‘time being’ girl of his began to make cracks in your heart. That night, you left with a spare key to his house and instructions of coming over whenever you wanted, for physical purposes, of course.

As soon as Jessica said she was going back home for the weekend, you immediately texted Haechan to let him know, and not even five minutes after Jess closed the door to your place, you opened it back up again to Haechan’s presence. “Hey, y/n.” He says with a smile you can’t help but reflect back to him.

“Hi, Hyuckie.” You reply bashfully. You watch as his eyes widen a bit, his smile now reaching the rest of his facial features. Without spending much time thinking about it, he leans in and gives you a quick peck on the lips before instantly retreating back and facing the floor. You laugh as you step back and actually allow him inside, figuring that kiss was probably too domestic for him to handle.

Since the two of you hadn’t commenced this whole operation at your place before, Haechan waited for you to take the lead on deciding where he could have you. You watch his idle presence, laughing a bit, much to his confusion, before shaking your head. “Come here.” You say, nodding your head, and he’s quick to follow.

“Um, y/n?” He says as you turn into the room. “This is your bathroom.”

“I know.” You say, bending down to grab something in one of your cabinets. Haechan just stares at you bewildered, even more so when you pull out a lens case and contact solution. You smile at his expression. “Go on then. I know you still haven’t switched contacts and I know you brought your glasses with you.”

“What?” He asks with wide eyes. You shake your head fondly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Your contacts irritate your eyes. You look cute in glasses. Please take out your stupid contacts and put your glasses on.” You watch as he dismisses your words, shaking his head as his eyes glaze with fear rather than confusion. You bite on the inside of your cheek, beyond pissed that his ex turned him into this. “Hyuck, you’re the hottest person alive. I don’t care about whatever your ex-girlfriend said. I understand if you get self-conscious and want to wear your contacts out in public, but you don’t have to with me. All I want is for you to be comfortable, and I know you’re not in your contacts.” You watch as he nods his head slowly, and you leave the bathroom with a soft smile as he gets close to the mirror to start taking his contacts out.

You sit on the couch as you wait for him to come out of the bathroom, scrolling idly on your phone. You pop your head up to meet him when you hear his footsteps cause the floor to creak. He looks small, his arms crossed, gaze aimed at the floor, and his glasses on. You smile warmly. “My pretty boy, come here.” You say, standing up with open arms, but Haechan freezes.

“What?”

You don’t know what he’s confused about until you trace back over your words, eyes going wide as you try and remedy the situation. “I- I didn’t mean to be so possessive, calling you mine and everything. I know you’re not…mine. I mean, this is purely physical. I wasn’t trying to be like- you know. It just slipped out. I’m sorry. Please come objectify me and make things normal again.”

“Y/n, you know you’re not just a body to me, right?” He asks softly, a skeptical eyebrow raised. You raise your head to look at him through narrow eyes.

“I’m not?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“But then- but this is just physical…you don’t- I mean we don’t like each other so I don’t know how-” Your stumbling words are cut off with a kiss that you melt right into. Haechan pulls back finally with a tired expression on his face.

“You seriously talk too much. Yeah, we don’t like each other, but that doesn’t mean I act as if you’re just some body for me to use. You’re y/n, which means you’re my favorite person to hate. And you hate me back, which is great because you always look so hot when you’re pissed at me, it gets right under my skin in all the best ways. And I get the pleasure of knowing what you taste like? Do you know how big a flex that is? I mean, come on. You’re the hottest nerd around, and instead of the other nerds who probably have the biggest crush on you being the ones to kiss you like this, I’m the one who gets to know you use dragon fruit chapstick.”

You’re able to let out a soft laugh. “You know it’s dragon fruit?” You ask in response, and Haechan raises his eyebrows, a smirk covering his lips.

“We kiss a lot.” He replies. You toss his words around visibly in your head.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we do it enough.” You say back, and Haechan just licks his lips.

“You don’t know how badly I want to make you eat your words.” He says through his teeth, and you just throw a taunting grin his way.

“Then why don’t you?” You ask, and Haechan audibly laughs before grabbing you by the waist and crashing his lips onto yours.

You break after who knows how long when your stomach starts feeling like it’s caving in on itself. Haechan wastes no time in moving his lips from your own to your neck, guessing you probably just needed to break for air. You roll your eyes with a smile. “Hyuck.” You say monotonously, making him pop his head back up to your joyless demeanor.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. I just-”

“Hyuckie,” you laugh, and he seems to calm down a bit. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today. I’m starving. I can’t physically kiss your pretty face anymore.”

Haechan shrugs. “Okay, let’s order a pizza.”

You look at him, bewildered. “What- I thought- you’re not just gonna…I thought you were gonna go.”

“And why would I do that?” He questions, making you scrunch your brows down.

“Because then it would be like us hanging out while we eat. Not…this.”

Haechan laughs again. “I know. Let’s order a pizza. We’ve watched Bones on your couch before. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna leave you so soon.”

The shyest smile crosses your face as you reach for the phone to call the pizza place. You stare down at the number entered on the keypad - all you had to do was press the call button. Instead, you turn your gaze back over to Haechan, holding your phone out towards him. “Can you do it?” You ask shyly, and Haechan’s brows furrow.

“What?” He asks with ample confusion. You drop your head in response.

“I get really nervous when I need to order something over the phone.” You reply, your words hardly audible under your embarrassment. Haechan shakes his head, but the biggest smile comes across his face.

“You’re so fucking adorable. Give me the phone, you go get the TV ready.” He says, and you snap your gaze back up to him, a small grateful smile of your own painted across your lips as you move towards the TV. “Just a large pepperoni pizza, yeah?” Haechan continues, and you turn back to him with a nod.

“Yeah.”

You immediately turn Bones on the TV for the two of you to watch while you eat, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find a normal activity such as this didn’t feel awkward at all with him anymore. Haechan finished eating before you did, and he frowned at the space between the two of you on the couch for only a second before sliding over and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You will your face not to blush at something as stupid as this, and you don’t even know if it worked. Regardless, there was still twenty minutes left on the episode when you finished eating, too. So, you made yourself more comfortable against his body.

Haechan started rubbing his thumb up and down your side where it had laid, incredibly too domestic for your liking. You try and shake it off pretty successfully, until his thumb moved ever so slightly to caress your covered breast. You sigh, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re an idiot.” You say monotonously.

He doesn’t look away from the TV, but he grins widely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replies. Though, his attempt to feign innocence is completely ruined when he straight up grabs your boob.

“Okay, that’s it.” You huff, switching from your position laying at his side to instead straddling him on top of your couch. Haechan looks at you as though he has no clue what you’re doing there, though his hands immediately latch onto your thighs, pulling you as close as possible to him.

“You had enough to eat yet?” He asks with a smirk.

You give a minimal shake of your head. “I don’t know, you look pretty tasty.” You hardly get through your words before your ability to speak is taken from you. Haechan kissed you with a passion that couldn’t be rivaled, as his hands left your thighs to grab your waist, trying his best to pull you even closer to him. You knew you messed up when you started moving your lower body against his, making him break away from the kiss immediately.

“Fuck, y/n!” He says loudly, but his grip on your waist only encourages you to speed up. As he tore his lips from yours, you moved to suck on his neck, another thing you shouldn’t have done. “No, no, no! That’s my job. Need your pretty neck.” He huffs, doing his best to remove your shirt. You let him, and then Haechan has a field day with your neck and chest as you still grind against him. Somewhere along the way, you managed to rip him from his shirt as well, your fingers lightly tracing his abs and making him go crazy. He eventually started dipping his fingers beneath the waistline of your pants. “Y/n, tell me to stop.” He breathes.

“Do I have to?” You reply in between kisses.

“Yes, y/n. I- You don’t know how badly I need you.”

“Show me, then.”

Haechan pulls back from your lips, staring at you intently. “Y/n, I refuse to let this be something you regret.”

You laugh a little, shaking your head in dismissal. “I won’t. I promise.”

Haechan looks at you as though he’s holding back his own laugh. “That sounded so certain. I would hate to be the guy that has you sure this won’t be as bad.” He replies, and you suddenly understand his interpretation of your words, causing you to duck your head, moving your attention to your hands that were currently fiddling with Haechan’s fingers.

“Oh, no. Hyuck, I’ve never…” Your words taper off, and Haechan looks at you with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, y/n. I can’t be your first. I mean, that’s a big deal, you know? You deserve-”

“Hyuck, there’s no one I trust more than you for this.” You say, cutting him off and getting him to render still. He licks his lips in contemplation, sighing heavily before he looks back up at you.

“You might end up bleeding - that’s okay. I don’t want you to worry about that or feel embarrassed at all because of it. I’ll clean you up after. If at any point you get uncomfortable, you tell me right away. I do not care what point that is, you tell me and it stops immediately, no questions asked. I will do my best to not hurt you, but you gotta tell me what feels good, okay? I’m gonna need you to be vocal and I mean it literally. I wanna make this about you, yeah? Tell me what you want and what feels good. And if you’re not 100% sure, I need you to be honest about it right now because-”

“Hyuckie.” You say gently, cutting him off. “I’m sure. You don’t have to worry.”

“Yes, I do!” He rebuttals. You just roll your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before making eye contact again.

“It’s okay. Look, all you have to do is wrap your pretty fingers around my neck and we’ll be good to go.” You say plainly. Haechan looks at you in disbelief.

“A choking kink? You’re kidding me.” He says, adding on a dismissive chuckle. Though, you just raise your eyebrows at him expectantly, letting him know you were serious, and he turns slightly shy.

You watch as he sucks on his lips, eyes darting down from your own as he fights back a smile. “Like, is this good?” He asks, wrapping one of his hands around your neck lightly. His face contorts as you audibly laugh.

“Absolutely not. Come on, choke me like you hate me, Hyuck.”

His eyes go wide as he pulls his hand from your neck. “You know, I don’t know if I want to take you to the bedroom anymore. You scare me.” He remarks playfully, but you send a pout his way and he instantly folds, picking you up from under your thighs and making his way to your bedroom. The two of you spend an ample amount of time just making out, exploring each other’s bodies. Then, with another check of assurance from Haechan and a rip of a condom packet with his teeth, he gave you a glimpse of heaven.

Afterwards, Haechan got straight to work on his promise of helping you clean up. “Alright, beautiful, do you wanna shower?” He asks, but you don’t answer his question.

“Don’t call me that.” You say instead, watching as he furrows his brows. You sigh, dodging his eye contact. “Too domestic…” You add on, and you can hear him sigh.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t call you that, but really, do you want to shower?” He asks again, and you nod. He immediately scoops you up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom.

“I can walk you know?” You say playfully before he sets you down on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah? Guess I need to go harder next time.” He replies with a smirk, but your playfulness falls into genuine happiness.

“I’m glad there’s still a ‘next time’ after all this.”

Haechan drops his shoulders, taking the opportunity provided by the fact that you were staring at the floor to look at you with a softness in his eyes. “There’s always a ‘next time’ with us.” He says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before moving to start up the shower for you. Standing frozen, by the time you realize you had to tell him that forehead kisses were also too domestic for you to handle, he was already out of the bathroom.

When you walk back into your room wrapped in a towel, you’re shocked to see your bed stripped to just the mattress. You move your gaze to Haechan, a questioning look on your face. “Your sheets are in the washer right now. Do you have another set I can throw on your bed? If not, you can sleepover at mine. I’d just want to make sure we get your bedding in the dryer before we leave to go back to mine.”

You’re quite honestly dumbfounded, and a smile takes over your face as you shake your head. “No, I don’t have another set. You didn’t have to do all this.” You say softly, but Haechan snaps his head back to you in an instant.

“Yes, I said I would. And this isn’t about me. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” You answer truthfully.

“Can I get you anything?” He continues, and you shake your head.

“No.” You reply. There was a beat of silence, and you lick your lips. “Actually…” You drag off, staring up at him to make sure he actually didn’t care about you making requests. “Could you just- can you just hold me for a second?” You ask weakly, and Haechan’s eyes widen.

“Yeah…yeah! Come here.” He says gently, and you take the few small steps right into his waiting arms. You don’t hug him back, your arms instead at your chest, holding up the towel that was still covering your body. Though, if Haechan minded, he didn’t let it show. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his embrace comforting. Then, without being able to really explain why, you began to cry in his arms. Haechan didn’t seem shocked. Instead, he just ran one hand gently up and down your back, though not letting up on his tight hold of you.

“I’m sorry.” You say hoarsely. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Haechan kisses the top of your head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay. You’ve had an exhausting day. I’d rather you cry in my arms than alone.”

You dig your head out of his chest, using one hand to wipe away the remaining tears on your face. “You can’t be this nice to me.” You say seriously, and Haechan sighs.

“Okay, no more being nice to each other…after tonight.” He says, and you find yourself nodding your head in response, getting him to relax again. “Do you still want me to hold you, or do you want to get dressed and head to mine?” He asks, truly not caring either way.

You pull yourself out of his arms in response, facing the floor. “I’ll uh- get ready.”

The drive over to his place is quiet, with you staring out the window the entire time. Though, as soon as you walk through his front door, you find your words again. “I don’t regret it.” You say seriously. “And I won’t regret it when I wake up tomorrow. Or any time after that. I know I’m acting weird, but it’s not because of that. I promise.”

Haechan looks your way with a fond smile. “You aren’t acting weird, y/n. I put you through a lot today. I get it. Just come crawl into bed with me. I’ll hold you some more.” You don’t hesitate to give into his offer, though, you add it to the list of things that probably shouldn’t happen again if you don’t want to fall in love with Haechan.

You ended up spending the entire next day with Haechan, under the reasoning that this would be the most time you guys would be able to spend together without Jessica getting suspicious. The two of you were walking back into your dorm Saturday night so that you could put your bed back together and hang out some more, figuring Haechan could just spend the night here and leave in the morning before Jessica gets back. That plan is instantly ruined when you open up the front door and see Jessica moving around in the kitchen. As quickly as you could, you shove Haechan back into the dorm hallway with one hand and slam the door behind you, praying he got the hint that Jessica was here and you didn’t just suddenly turn into a bitch.

At the sound of the door slamming, Jessica shoots her gaze your way with a smile. “Hey, y/n!”

You force your legs to start walking, moving towards the living room as if everything was normal. “Hey, Jess. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon.” You say, wondering why the hell she was already here. She waves an uninterested hand in the air.

“That was the plan, but I have so much homework and my parents had a brunch planned with some of their friends so there was really no reason for me to stay another night.”

“Ah.” You reply, trying to just sneak away to your room without any more complications. You had nearly gotten away with it, but before you can step through the open door into your room, Jessica speaks up again, making you turn back to her.

“Oh, yeah. Where are your bed sheets?” She asks, curious, and you wince.

“Uh, they’re in the dryer. I washed them.” You say neutrally, but Jessica raises an eyebrow.

“You? Washed your sheets? You never wash your sheets.” She says with a laugh.

“Yeah well, you know. Just seemed like they needed washed.” You reply, trying your best to sound normal.

“And uh- would that have anything to do with the hickies on your neck?” She asks, and you freeze on the spot, eyes wide as you make contact with her knowing expression, praying to God she didn’t know the all of it.

“Uh- yeah you know. I might’ve hooked up with someone while you were gone.” You say, fumbling through your words. You watch as Jessica lights up.

“Who?!”

Your throat turns dry, and you start fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you find someone to pin this on. “Johnny! You know, the kid from Chicago who takes the least amount of credit hours a semester as possible so he can spend as many years at college parties as possible? Him.” You look back up to meet Jessica’s bewildered face.

“Wow.” She replies, seeming to be incredibly amazed by your ability to pull Johnny, and you can’t even begin to imagine what she would look like if you told her you actually pulled her best friend, instead.

“Yeah, so- I’m just gonna go grab my sheets from the dryer and go to bed. I’ve had quite the weekend and we still have all of Sunday to get through.” As soon as you finish talking, you dart to where the washer and dryer were before rushing back to your bedroom and closing the door, immediately grabbing your phone to text Haechan.

Jessica is back early! I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face, but I didn’t know what else to do.

His response comes a few minutes later, finally letting you relax again. Don’t worry, I figured that was the case. I’m already back at my place…

Though you were glad he wasn’t still outside your dorm, because he definitely couldn’t come in now, your heart struggled with the idea of him already back at his house…without you. I wish we could’ve had our extra night together. I miss you, Hyuckie.

You watch as his text bubble appears and disappears. You bite on your bottom lip, opting to start putting your bed back together to keep your mind from running. After putting one corner of your fitted sheet back on, your phone dings and you instantly move to grab it and read his message. I thought we weren’t supposed to be nice to each other.

A small smile spreads across your face. He was making fun of you. You were the one who set those boundaries in the first place. You glance from your phone to your bed and immediately know how to respond. Don’t worry. I only wish you were here so you could help me make my bed like you said you would.

There’s my y/n. You read his text over and over again. Surely he just meant it in regard to your typical personality with him, the y/n he knew. Though, the more you looked at his text, the more you knew you didn’t want him to mean it in that way, you wanted him to call you his. That’s when you knew there was no way you could respond to that message. So, you continue the task of making your bed so you could go to sleep, trying to ignore how empty it felt without him.

Two days later, you walked back in from class to see Jessica and Haechan hanging out in your living room. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, and you quickly turn around and act like you were still fiddling with the door so you could take a moment to fix a neutral expression on your face…and prepare yourself to scowl at him once you turn back around.

“Hey, Jess. I’m home-” You start, moving to walk towards the living room. “-oh great. You’re here.” You continue with a roll of the eyes as your gaze lands on Haechan.

His deadpan stare looks you up and down as his nose scrunches in disgust. “Yeah, cause I was told you weren’t.”

You flash your eyebrows at him, unamused. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you.” You state as you start on your walk to your room. Haechan calls out after you.

“You already are, sweetheart.” He says condescendingly.

“Yeah, fuck you.” You reply back, closing the door to your bedroom and giving yourself the ability to actually breathe again.

On the couch, Jessica rubs her forehead. “You know, I thought things were actually gonna get better between the two of you after you watched Bones that one day.” She says with a small, but defeated, laugh. Haechan clears his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry to kill your spirits, but y/n and I are not meant to be friends.” He replies in kind before quickly getting the two of them back to their conversation topic from before you walked in.

You were getting through some homework when there was a knock at your door. Assuming it was Jessica, you throw the door open, though shock courses through you when you see Haechan, instead. He leans in to give you a soft kiss before standing straight up again, as if that type of thing was normal between the two of you. “Jessica is in the bathroom.” He says softly, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s great, but I don’t think that gives us enough time to fuck.” You respond with a laugh, though Haechan’s brows furrow.

“What? I didn’t come here for that. I came to tell you I’m sorry for being mean to you when you came in.”

Surprise runs over your face, but it soon drops into a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it, Hyuck. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know, but it didn’t feel good this time.” He responds, riddled with defeat, and you can’t help yourself from getting up on your tiptoes to lightly kiss him again.

You pull back quickly, facing the ground. “Hyuckie-” That’s when the sound of the bathroom door opening fills the air, and you immediately jump to lean uninterestedly against your doorframe, arms crossed in front of your body as your face falls flat. “Homework! So, can you stop annoying me just because Jessica is gone for one second and you can’t annoy her?”

As predicted, Jessica quickly finds her way over to the two of you, eventually coming to stand at Haechan’s side. “Can’t believe I come out of the bathroom to find you talking with y/n.” She says with genuine surprise. You make concerned eye contact with her.

“Talking? More like tormenting…” You say in response.

Jessica turns to look at Haechan, nudging him slightly. “Hyuck, I would be careful about pissing her off, now. She’s got some big men on her side that can come beat you up. I mean, she hooked up with Johnny Suh.”

Your face becomes painted with shock. “Jessica!” You yell, causing her to put her hands up in defense.

“Look, it just came out.”

Haechan makes eye contact with you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Hooked up with Johnny?! Really?” He responds, playing his part of not believing you pulled him exceptionally well.

You flash your eyebrows at him, doing your best to try and act all powerful now because you apparently hooked up with Johnny. “Yep! It was one hell of a first time.” You reply, and a soft smile is quick to adorn your face as you continue. “Not to mention he took…really good care of me after. You could learn something from him about how to treat women.” You add on, looking back up at him with a smirk. Almost all of Haechan’s body language could lead anyone to believe he hated you, didn’t give a damn about who you slept with, could hardly bother himself with this conversation at all, but his eyes were filled with fondness as he looked back at you. You inhale sharply, thankful when Haechan starts talking again to remind you of the environment you were in.

“Yeah? I’ll be sure to ask for lessons on how to tolerate you first.” He responds with a smirk of his own. Jessica finally gets fed up, rolling her eyes and grabbing Haechan by the arm to drag him away from you before you could argue any more. You almost instantly throw your homework back in your backpack, walking to the door to leave as you turn around to face them again.

“I’m gonna head to the library since I obviously can’t get any work done here. I’ll be back later tonight.” You say with a smile aimed in Jessica’s direction. She threw a thumbs up your way along with a ‘be safe,’ and then you were out the door.

You had just gotten to the library when your phone lit up with a text from Haechan.

I’ll pick you up from the library after Jess and I eat dinner.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, though really, you’re beyond glad he could see how much you wanted him tonight. I’d be pissed if you didn’t :)

His response is instantaneous. Yeah, yeah. Go do your homework before I fuck you dumb <3

Around an hour and a half later, you get a call from Haechan and you immediately stuff your laptop back into your bag before picking up the phone. “Hey, where are you sitting? I’ll come pick you up-” He starts, but you cut him off in an instant.

“Absolutely not. We cannot be seen in public together.”

“Y/n, this isn’t some big scandal.” He replies lightly, but you shake your head, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see it.

“You’re wrong. Everyone knows we hate each other and everyone knows Jessica is our mutual. If they see us together, it’s getting back to Jessica in an instant. Tell me where you’re parked and I’ll come to you.” A small laugh accompanies your words, even more so when Haechan pouts on the other end and you can imagine it vividly.

“Fine, but you’re never allowed to complain that chivalry is dead when you’re the one causing it.” You roll your eyes, stepping out of the library and immediately seeing his car anyways. You hang up on the phone and open his passenger door to slide into your seat. “Finish all your homework like a good girl?” He asks with a smirk and you send a glare his way.

“Shut up. I finished all but one assignment. I got a little distracted.” You drag off, and Haechan lights up.

“Oh my god, did you touch yourself in the library bathrooms?”

“No!” You reply adamantly before sinking back into the passenger seat a little. “But I would’ve if I had to wait any longer. Dinner took a long time, Hyuckie.” You add with a frown, and Haechan just shakes his head in the driver’s seat.

“God, it is taking everything in me to not throw you in the backseat and have you right here right now.”

You roll your eyes, more than aware that you couldn’t have car sex in front of the library. Instead, you place a hand on his cheek and kiss him deeply. He didn’t complain, figuring making out with you in his front seat was enough to hold him over since he couldn’t fuck you in the back seat. You let an entire song play through the radio as you indulged in Haechan’s taste, finally pulling back with a heavy breath before you could forget your morals. “Um…Please drive now so we can go home and you can undress me. I need you.”

Haechan tries to hide his smile as he shifts into drive and places his hands back on the wheel. “Yeah, yeah. Next stop…home.”

You stumble your way inside his front door, passionate kisses getting in the way of actually walking. The second you get inside, Haechan is sliding your shirt over your head. He keeps his kisses as consistent as possible until everything actually registers in his mind and he pulls back to look you up and down, absentmindedly licking his lips. “Y/n, goddamn.”

You look down at your chest just to laugh and fix your gaze back on him. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I did some shopping.” You say offhandedly, as though your new lingerie set wasn’t killing Haechan. He finally brings himself to look back at your face, not bothering to hide how pissed he was.

“On the couch, now.” He orders, and you just roll your eyes playfully, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to bring him along with you. In no time flat, he’s completely on top of you, kissing what seemed to be every inch of your body. Though, the second his lips land on your neck, you remember the new boundaries you had to set.

“Hey, you can’t leave marks on my neck anymore.”

“Oh, but Johnny can, huh?” He teases as he props himself up to make eye contact with you.

You roll your eyes. “He was the first guy that came to mind.”

Haechan shakes his head. “I’ll make sure you can never think about another guy again.” He says with conviction, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“God, you’re so hot.” You say through an exhale, and Haechan just laughs before moving to suck and nip at your neck again. “Hyuck, that didn’t mean you could still bruise me, baby.”

He hums against your skin, finding a way to respond without putting too much space between your two bodies. “Can’t help it. You look so pretty, all marked up as mine.” He mumbles. You sigh, running a hand gently through his hair as he works on your chest instead.

“Hyuckie, I’m not yours.” You say softly, trying to make sure the defeat you felt while admitting that didn’t show. Haechan freezes immediately, and when he finally finds his ability to move, it’s just to press a lingering kiss on your lips.

“Just for tonight. Be mine just for tonight.” He says, though it comes out more so as a question. You let out another small sigh, shaking your head before moving to connect your lips to his again.

“Jessica knows I don’t do any homework past 10:00.” You tell him as you break apart. Haechan takes a moment to glance at his watch, reading the time before nodding his head softly.

“I’ll get you back by then. Don’t worry.” From then until 9:45, Haechan spent all of his time making sure you were his that night.

It was about two months into whatever it was that you and Haechan had gotten yourselves into. You were currently sitting in the living room. You knew Haechan was fully aware that Jessica wasn’t home, so now you were just waiting for him to burst through the front door at any moment. When he finally does, he walks to put his keys and wallet down on the counter before making his way over to where you were sitting and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Hey,” he says smoothly, causing blush to cover your face. You still weren’t used to the days where he would be more gentle with you, not that you were complaining, but it was unfamiliar nonetheless. You smile back at him, about to respond when he finally moves his gaze to assess what you’ve been up to. “Are you playing Mariokart?” He asks, and you laugh from slight embarrassment.

“Yeah. Had to kill time while waiting for you somehow.” You say as you hit the home button to exit out, but then you notice the smallest traces of sadness cross his face, causing you to smirk. “Did you want to play?” You ask, and Haechan shoots his gaze back over to you, looking more like a boy than ever.

“Of course I want to play!” He replies, and suddenly your laughter isn’t from embarrassment anymore. You move to grab another remote for him so the two of you could play together. You spent the next two hours playing Mariokart with him, trying to perfect all the circuits so you could collect all the best trophies, and though today’s physical touch went no further than celebratory kisses, playful shoves, and your head on his shoulder, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Though, it brought about a fundamental truth - you were not having passionate sex with your enemy. No, you found that you liked being around Haechan.

The two of you had finished a quick dinner before the realization hit that Jessica would be coming back home from her night class soon. With a shared glance, you and Haechan both knew he should probably head back to his place. You reluctantly walked him to your front door, hand reaching for the knob to open it when Haechan’s hand grabbed hold of your own. You look up at him, confused, but he just stared down at you with a grin before leaning in to kiss you. “We can do this more often, too.” He says softly as he pulls back. You raise your brows in question.

“Kiss?” You reply, trying to figure out what he was referring to.

Haechan laughs, shaking his head and making his hair fall messily around his eyes. “No- well, yes, I always want to kiss you, but I’m talking about just hanging out. You know, playing Mariokart and all that…if you want! We don’t have to, I can just come over and immediately undress you and I wouldn’t mind that either-”

“Hyuck,” you say with a laugh, cutting him off. “We’ll hang out more, don’t worry. Besides, we still have the 200 cc circuits to beat.”

You watch as he smiles brightly back down at you before leaning back in, this time to kiss every inch of your face and turn you into a giggling mess. “I’ll see you soon.” He says smoothly, and then he’s finally out the door and leaving you blushing profusely because you think Haechan just admitted to enjoying being around you, too.

A couple of Fridays later, Haechan lets himself into your dorm as casually as ever when he comes over to actually hang out with Jessica. At the sound of the door closing, Jessica walks out from her room to greet Haechan, who already had his attention occupied by the new addition to your kitchen table. “Flowers? I didn’t know you could keep things alive.” He jokes as he turns around to face Jessica. She just rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“They’re not mine. Y/n bought them, and for your information, I can actually keep flowers alive way better than she can, thank you very much.” She replies, and Haechan turns back to study the bouquet again, trying to memorize them before Jessica could catch onto his actions.

“Should’ve known y/n bought them - these aren’t the prettiest flowers by a long shot.” He says with a scoff.

Jessica shakes her head. “You should be glad she isn’t home right now to hear you say that. The bluebells in there are her favorite flower in the world.” At this, Haechan shoots his gaze back towards Jessica.

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows after the fact to try and cover up the genuine curiosity that painted his question. Jessica seems not to notice as she just nods her head, but that’s when you finally come in through the front door, and they both turn their attention towards you.

You didn’t know Haechan was going to be at your place right now, but you probably should’ve guessed with it being a Friday - if Mark and Jessica weren’t going on a solo date, their friend group typically hung out and bar hopped all together. Regardless of the fact that Jessica was there, you couldn’t bring yourself to put on a look of disgust once you saw Haechan. Instead, you were radiating off a sort of empty feeling - you weren’t really sad, just hollow, not concerned enough to fake-hate Haechan. You don’t say a single word in greeting as you just go to your room and start getting things ready for a shower.

Haechan turns back to Jessica with raised eyebrows. “Where did she just come from?” He asks, wondering what the hell had you looking like that.

“Ummmm, today’s Friday, right?” Jessica asks, then looking at the time. “She just got back from quantum mechanics.” She answers, and that seems to calm her worries - she would look dead every time she had to sit through quantum mechanics, too. On the other hand, Haechan’s hands balled into fists. He knew that class was with your dick of a professor, and he could only guess as to what disgusting things he threw your way this time that had you feeling so dirty you had to shower right away.

Haechan wanted to barge into your room, wrap you in the biggest hug, and let you cry in the comfort of his arms, but he couldn’t - not with Jessica here. With every muscle in his body tensed up, he thought about the consequences of his actions should he go wrap you in a hug anyways, but that wouldn’t be fair to you. You were a part of whatever relationship the two of you had going on, and you both agreed that relationship stayed hidden. He couldn’t ruin that now without your consent.

Instead, he just looked back at Jessica flatly, flashing his eyebrows in recognition of the answer, and then quickly moved along. “Do you wanna head out to meet up with the guys?” He asks in return, and if there was any desperation in Haechan’s voice conveying how much he needed to get out of your dorm before he cracked, Jessica didn’t pick up on it. She nodded, grabbing her things, knocking on your door to let you know they were heading out, and then following Haechan out of the dorm.

Before you knew it, six months had passed since Haechan lost his dad, and you decided to surprise him with his favorite meal. It wasn’t like the two of you weren’t planning dinners/hangouts/hookups basically every day anyways, but you still wanted this one to be more lowkey, more intimate in an emotional, rather than physical, way, and a surprise dinner would do just that. You picked up his favorite takeout for the both of you before driving over to his place, pulling out your spare key to his house with excitement overtaking you as you walked in.

“Hey, Hyuckie. I’m here with din- Oh god.” Your face, along with the bag of food in your hands, instantly drops as you turn back from the closed door to his living area, only to notice him on top of another girl…his ex. Tears immediately sting at the back of your eyes, and you’re using everything in you to not let them fall down your face.

Haechan pops up as soon as you had started speaking, his eyes wide as he turns to look at you over his shoulder, and his body still straddled over his ex. “Y/n!” He yells out in shock.

His ex moves to prop herself up on her elbows, giving her a clear view of your frozen state at the door. Then, she rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Oh, I forgot she was the one getting my sloppy seconds.”

Your brows furrow. In any case, this could have been two friends grabbing dinner together. There was no way for her to so confidently say you were hooking up with her ex without him saying so. You face Haechan with betrayal covering your entire being. “So much for not kissing and telling, huh Haechan?” You spit out before walking back out of his place and slamming the door.

When you were finally outside, that’s when you gave yourself the chance to bawl your eyes out. You knew you wouldn’t be able to drive home safely without letting yourself cry beforehand. What sucked is that it gave Haechan time to fling the front door open. “Y/n-” He starts, grabbing your wrist to stop you from walking. You do your best to face away from him entirely, yanking your wrist out of his hand and cutting him off.

“Don’t touch me, Haechan!” You choke out, and he lets go immediately, regardless of the desperation on his face.

“Look I-”

You stop him again, his voice alone sending more tears down your face. You finally turn to him, slowing your words down so your voice doesn't crack, or at least, you tried to. “How long has it been going on?”

Haechan’s face and shoulders drop in unison. “This is the first time she’s been back over since the break up.” He replies softly.

You shake your head, none of it making sense and all of it hurting you. “Why…?” You had more of a question prepared, but that was all you could get out. You watch as Haechan sighs.

“I ran into her at a darty today. She approached me and started conversation. I tried not to involve myself in it, but she laughed and told me I was stupid for not wanting to talk to her because she said no one else will ever love me. And when I went to refute, I accidentally mentioned you. And she- she laughed again, telling me that I was dumb for thinking you would ever care for me, cause you hate me. And I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. And so then we ended up here.” The more he spoke, the more enraged you became. You shake your head in disgust.

“Fuck you!”

Haechan’s eyes widened. “What-”

You make sure to maintain eye contact with him as you begin to speak, though your words were broken up by your intense sobs. “You couldn’t think of anything to say against her point?! Who was the one washing off the makeup she made you put on? Who was the one telling you that the last thing you needed to do was cover up your stupid pretty face in the first place? Who was the one with a contact lens case in their bathroom so you could take them out and wear your glasses while you were over because you’re more comfortable in them? Who was the one you came to for comfort when you lost your dad-?”

“I went over to find Jessica!” He yells, cutting you off, but you don’t take any of it.

“But you stayed when you saw it was just me! Haechan-”

“Can you stop fucking calling me that?!” He pleads, tears now running slowly down his own cheeks.

All you can do is shake your head again sadly. “I don’t understand how you could go through all of that with her and then go back to it. Do you know how idiotic I feel?! Sneaking around and lying to Jessica because I’m hooking up with her best friend, who everyone thinks I hate, by the way, behind her back. Being so euphoric from your touch that I want to tell the world but I can’t because you told me I couldn’t tell anyone, and I wasn’t gonna break that promise because I wanted to be able to keep seeing you- would do anything to keep seeing you. Thinking that maybe there was the smallest chance any of this was real to you, too. To be so upset over something I have no right to be upset about because you were never mine.”

“Y/n-” He says as gently as he could given both your states. You lose the courage to look him in the eye, instead dropping your gaze to the floor as you respond.

“I feel like an idiot, Haechan.” With that, you turn to get back in your car and go home, and Haechan doesn’t stop you.

You continued to cry the entire drive back home, but you managed to stop the debilitating sobs, and instead soft, insistent tears just rolled down your face. You unlock the door to your house, your voice cracking as you announce your presence.

“I’m home.”

“Y/n-” Jessica starts excitedly, but then she sees your state and instantly panics. “-are you okay?! What happened?!” She continues, running up to where you stand defeated at the entryway.

“Is everything okay?” A male voice adds, and you sigh as your cries get more intense again.

“Mark is here. Of course Mark is here. Cause you guys are together and happy.” You say in a snarky response, and out of your peripheral, you see a frowning Mark take two steps back from the hug you and Jessica were encased in.

“Y/n, what is going on?” Jessica asks, more confused than ever because you’ve never been anything but happy for her and Mark. You shake your head rapidly in response.

“Nothing. You would hate me.”

Though your face was buried in her chest, you can sense her rolling her eyes. “I can assure you, I wouldn’t.” She states plainly, and though you knew she definitely would once she actually knew what was up, you took her words for what they were worth and your explanation tumbled out of your mouth.

“I’ve been hooking up with Haechan behind your back.”

Jessica immediately pulls away from the hug, making concerned eye contact with you instead. “WHAT?!”

Mark glances between the two of you, feeling incredibly like he was intruding, even more so because Haechan was his friend, too. “I’m uh- gonna go grab food!” He interjects before dashing out of the door behind you. With him gone, you continue with your explanation.

“For months, Jess. And we agreed not to tell anyone because it was just a friends with benefits thing, or enemies with benefits I guess. But it was more to me. It was real. I love him, Jessica.” The words just tumbled out of your mouth, but they were true, you knew so the second you said it. You loved Haechan.

Jessica looks at you with a frown. “So why the tears?” She asks gently, and you immediately drop your gaze to the floor, embarrassed, ashamed.

“I went over and unlocked his door with my spare key because we were gonna have dinner together.” You say slowly, your words finally coming out more even.

“Yeah?” Jessica probes when you had seemed to stop talking completely. You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid more tears from falling, but then you just spit it out.

“He was with his ex. On top of her. On the couch that knows my imprint.”

Jessica’s eyes widened impossibly. “Y/n-”

“Why the fuck would he do that, Jessica?” You practically shout, your rage finally mixing in with your sorrow.

Jessica just shakes her head, sucking on her bottom lip. “I don’t know.” She replies softly, and then she just holds you in silence until your tears finally stop and you move to lock yourself in your bedroom.

Two days later, when there’s a knock on your door, you assume Jessica is there to try and get you to eat something again. You slump over to open your bedroom door, already preparing how to tell Jessica you still couldn’t imagine stomaching food yet, when instead, it’s Haechan’s worried gaze meeting yours. Your eyes widen, stinging with tears already, but you can’t bring yourself to close the door just yet - maybe it was the fact that he was in his glasses, goddamned skinny jeans, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Y/n, it was the worst mistake of my life.” He says sincerely, and you drop your gaze to the floor.

“What? Getting together with me or her?” You ask with venom.

His response is instantaneous. “With her. Obviously!”

“You sure? You sure she doesn’t love you more than I do?” You spit back angrily, daring to look him in the eyes once again just to glare at him.

The sadness in his face neutralizes in an instant, and he stares back at you with wide eyes. “You- do you- do you love me?” He asks hesitantly in response, and the tears you’d been holding back fell freely now.

“I’m not fucking putting myself through this.” You respond defeatedly, and you immediately close the door in his face, running to bundle up in bed in a mess of tears.

When you finally step out of your room again to grab a water bottle, you’re met with the bouquet Haechan had in his hands now laying on the counter. You walk up to it, reading the sticky note now attached.

This was the only bouquet they had with bluebells…I know they’re your favorite. Coincidentally, one of their meanings is forgiveness (according to the flower shop guy, at least). There’s nothing I want more than your forgiveness. Y/n, I messed up so bad, I know, I’m sorry. I never should have done that. I don’t know why I did that, not when you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m sorry I never made you mine when I really had the chance. I was terrified you didn’t feel for me the way I do for you, but now I know how stupid that was. You’re the only one to ever care for me the way you do, and if you decide that what I did was too terrible, just know you’ll forever be my standard…my beautiful, incomparable standard.

When Jessica walked in through the front door after grabbing lunch with Mark, she found you still standing there in the kitchen, looking down on the now tear-stained note as your body still shook with sobs.

She walked over to the counter, silently sliding the note away from where it laid in front of you to read it herself. From your right, you hear her sigh and she’s quick to put down the note and wrap you in a hug instead. You stay crying in her arms for what you felt had to be too long, but she never said a word about it if it was.

Your days quickly started to blur, all of them feeling the same as you would drag yourself to class and then back home, with no extra plans to ever keep you occupied or active. You were currently on the couch, sweats adorning your figure, Bones on the TV, and a pint of ice cream in your hands. You had given up on trying - no longer caring about nice outfits or makeup, hardly eating anything of actual substance. As long as you had enough energy to sit through class, you considered it a win. It was after dinner time when Jessica got back from one of her dates with Mark, closing the front door to turn around and see you as her face falls.

“Hey…how are you?” She asks lightly, walking over to where you sat in the living room.

You don’t move your gaze away from the TV, or more so, the ice cream you were eating. “Fine. Why?” You reply monotonously, and Jessica looks at you defeatedly.

“Because sweetheart, it’s been two months and you’re still devouring pints of icecream at a time on our couch.”

“I don’t like life without him.” You spit out in reply, though your voice is weak, and the more you thought about how true the statement was, the closer you got to tears.

Jessica reaches over to brush some of your hair back from where it covered your face, making sure the two of you could make eye contact. “I know. He feels the same way, you know?”

“You’re just saying that.” You snap back instantly, but Jessica shakes her head.

“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t do that to you. Every time I go over to his place, he looks almost exactly like you do. He keeps beating himself up, saying he should’ve stuck to his plan for your birthday, that everything would’ve worked out perfectly if he knew you at least tolerated him before he indulged in your physical attractiveness.”

This finally gets your attention, and your face fills with confusion, feeling something other than sadness for the first time in two months. “Wh- what do you mean his plan for my birthday?”

Jessica seems surprised at the question. “Oh, I thought he would’ve told you. He was gonna pick you up from class and walk you back here so he could wish you a happy birthday.”

In an instant, all of the color drains from your face again. “Why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. He never told me.” Jessica answers seriously, now cementing the idea you had in your mind of what happened, everything clicking into place.

You finally speak again after what felt like forever of silence, your brain going 100 miles an hour. “...Do you know where he is now?” You ask seriously, and Jessica doesn’t hide her shock at your change in behavior.

“No, but I can find out. You okay?” She asks, and you just shake your head.

“No. No, not at all.” You reply, and you’re already up off the couch, rushing to put the pint of ice cream away and change into nicer clothes as Jessica texts Haechan, who just so happened to be at home…because his daily routine practically reflected yours over the past two months.

You knock harshly on his door, pacing back and forth as you wait for him to answer, nerves coursing through your entire being. After what felt like a lifetime, the door cracks open, and all of your movements pause. At first, it’s hardly open enough to see him at all, and you gulp back your awkwardness. “What do you-” He starts quietly, but he quickly recognizes you from the tiny view he allowed himself, and suddenly the door is swung wide open. “Y/n?”

You stare up at him, heart melting at the sight. He was in a big hoodie and wearing his glasses, making the corners of your mouth perk up in a smile. Though, the smile quickly drops as you take in the rest of his features. Jessica was right, he looked as bad as you. To be fair, he was still the most attractive man alive, but he had dark circles around his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

You lick your lips, which were now noticeably dry, building the courage to speak as you did so. “You were gonna pick me up from class on my birthday?”

His eyes go wide as he moves his gaze away from you for the first time since he opened the door. “I-”

“Hyuck.” You cut him off, staring up at him intently and getting him to crack with a huff of breath.

“Yeah…yeah I was. Jessica said it was your birthday. And we still weren’t friends then, but I would’ve felt bad not at least wishing you a happy birthday. So I texted Jessica to see where you were and decided I would just walk you back from class. And I-” He breaks off with a faint laugh as he recalls the memory. “I put on a pair of skinny jeans beforehand because I figured even if you hated me, you found me at least a little more tolerable in skinny jeans. Then I went to go pick you up. When you didn’t come out with the rest of your class, I went inside the lecture hall to see what was up or if I just missed you somehow. That’s when I saw you talking to your professor. That’s when I heard his comments. You weren’t even in anything close to scandalous anyways. You just dressed up for your birthday. You were pretty. That was it, so I figured it wasn’t a one-off thing. How you handled it made me think it wasn’t the first time for it to happen, either. You could barely see your wince. The same couldn’t be said for me, though. I was mad, fuming. I got out of there as soon as I could so that I’d be out of sight by the time you got out. If you saw me and started a conversation, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from bringing it up. God, I was so angry, and I figured that wasn’t what you wanted on your birthday.” He faced the ground while he spoke, but you studied his figure the entire time, your eyes finding their home as they landed on Haechan again after all this time. You hardly let him finish his last word before you speak up.

“Tell me you want to kiss me.” You say, and Haechan finally whips his head back up to face you, eyes wide in surprise. “Tell me you want to kiss me and have it mean something outside of these walls.”

“What?!” He responds, visibly thrown off. You don’t have the patience for it.

“Hyuck!” You say, and Haechan seems to come back to the moment, nodding his head rapidly.

“I do! I want to kiss you. Always.”

The biggest of smiles overtakes your face as you press up on your tiptoes to finally lock your lips with his again. One of his hands immediately flew to your waist, while the other placed itself lightly on the side of your face, holding you as though one harsh movement would cause this moment to break, this dream to end. When you pull back for air, Haechan wastes no time. “Y/n, please be my girlfriend. Please be mine. Please let me tell the entire world that you’re mine.” He says, his intonation practically making it a beg.

You nod your head before digging it into his chest in a tight hug. “I’m yours.”

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