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eclipsaria · 2 days ago

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Took You Long Enough

Summary // In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.

Pairing:

CEO! Seungcheol x reader

Warnings:

Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT members

W/C:

12 671

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

@nerdycheol , you are the one that suggested the watch brand and Hermés cologne brand🤣 and you as a cheol's wife, i take anything you said🫡

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

The office buzzed to life every morning by 8:00 a.m. A polished world of swift elevator dings, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the faint scent of espresso lingering near the breakroom. Floors were lined with pristine glass partitions, and employees moved with a subtle urgency, well aware of the silent clock that ticked behind every deadline.

On the top floor, behind a sleek black door embossed with silver letters, was the corner office of Choi Seungcheol, the man who built the company from the ground up. He wasn’t just the CEO, he was the presence. Charismatic, sharp, and composed, Seungcheol was known for walking into a room and changing its air pressure with just a glance. Rumor had it that he could read a financial report faster than most people could skim a menu, and no one ever left a meeting with him without either a promotion, a plan, or a panic attack.

But beneath his tailored suits and impenetrable gaze was a man with a past no one dared to ask about, and a reputation he carried like armor.

Today, as sunlight spilled through the towering windows of his office, Seungcheol stood facing the city skyline, coffee in hand, unaware that the day ahead would shift everything he thought he had under control.

At just 30 years old, Choi Seungcheol had already climbed the summit most people only dreamed of. It was hard to believe he started as a low-level assistant at the age of 20. No connections, no shortcuts, just a relentless work ethic and a vision that burned behind his sharp eyes. He wasn’t born into wealth, nor did he inherit the company. Every step upward was carved with grit and sleepless nights.

Now serving his second year as CEO, there wasn’t a single person in the company who questioned his leadership. Titles didn't need to be old to command respect, not when every project under his lead launched with flawless execution, crushing expectations and setting new industry standards. His name echoed in boardrooms across the city as a young prodigy, the kind of leader who didn't just manage—but rewrote—the playbook.

What made him even more admired, or perhaps feared, was how calm he remained in the face of chaos. Seungcheol didn’t just make decisions; he made the right ones and fast. He listened more than he spoke, observed more than he intervened, and when he did speak, the room listened.

He turned back from the window now, placing his coffee on the desk as his assistant knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” he said coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates were real, love was less of a question and more of a certainty. The rule was simple. When you meet your soulmate, just one look into their eyes, and you’ll hear wedding bells. Not a metaphor—actual bells. Ringing in your ears like a celebration only you two could hear. After that, everything seemed to fall into place, like the universe giving you a neatly wrapped ending: soulmates meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Well… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his closest circle, were either happily married, halfway through wedding plans, or sending him pictures of their toddlers with captions like “Uncle Cheol, when’s your turn?” The world was moving fast, and for someone like him, who always caught up quickly, this was the one race he couldn’t outrun.

He wasn’t single because he hated love. He just didn’t want to gamble with emotions. Exes and soulmates don’t mix well. What if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t the one? What if he broke someone’s heart only to meet his true soulmate later, and it all came crumbling down? So he stayed away from flings, from love, from anything that could mess with the balance of his life.

Still, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of anxiety. He wasn’t worried about getting married late, he was worried about his parents.

At 27, his mother had set him up on a blind date with someone’s daughter, he showed up out of respect, but came home early with a headache.

At 28, his father mailed out carefully written profiles of Seungcheol to other families with daughters, practically advertising him like some limited-edition luxury product.

By 29, they dropped all pretense and started pushing for an arranged marriage. “Just meet her, see if your eyes ring,” they said. He didn’t.

Now at 30, Seungcheol didn’t know what plan his parents were cooking up, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

But what could he do? Nothing. And so, as always, he chose the routine that never disappointed him: Wake up. Go to the office. Handle meetings. Review reports. Sign approvals. Go home. Sleep.

It was safe. Predictable and efficient.

It was just another day at work. The usual hum of morning emails and the faint buzz of distant phones filled the air, when Seungcheol’s secretary knocked once before entering, arms full with neatly stacked document files.

She placed them on his desk without a word at first, as he flipped through the last few pages of a report. But then, came a rare request.

“Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has extended an invitation. It’s a masquerade party,” she said, tone light but respectful. “Held by his wife. They’re hoping for your attendance.”

The name made Seungcheol look up, pausing mid-page. “…Mr. Shin?”

She nodded. “Yes. He personally requested your presence.”

Choi Seungcheol blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. Mr. Shin wasn’t just anyone, he was a veteran in the business world, one of the few people Seungcheol looked up to when he first entered the corporate jungle at twenty. Sharp, poised, but known for his warm charisma, Mr. Shin had once told Seungcheol over lunch: “Success is important, but relationships will carry you further than numbers ever will.”

Unfortunately, Seungcheol never quite grasped the latter.

He was never a party type. In his mind, parties disrupted efficiency. Hours wasted in polite conversation, standing under chandeliers, sipping drinks he didn’t care for. He didn’t hate people, he just… preferred structure.

But this invitation wasn’t something he could brush off. Not when it came from Mr. Shin. Refusing could send the wrong message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife was out of the question.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“…Tell them I’ll attend,” he said finally, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any clashes, push them back. And set a time for shopping. Something formal. Masked.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied with a slight smile, already tapping notes into her tablet as she turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind her, and then silence returned. Seungcheol sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the papers in front of him before removing his glasses and slowly pinching the bridge of his nose. A heavy sigh followed.

“A masquerade party, huh…” he muttered.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The night of the masquerade arrived with a velvet sky draped in soft stars, the city skyline glowing beneath it like scattered jewels. Seungcheol’s black car pulled up to the venue. An opulent estate on the outskirts of the city owned by the Shin family, known for hosting only the most exclusive circles.

From the very first step inside, the masquerade felt like stepping into another world.

The entrance hall was grand. High arched ceilings adorned with delicate gold filigree, with glittering chandeliers casting warm light across the polished marble floors. Elegant floral arrangements stood tall in glass vases, the soft scent of fresh orchids and lilies lingering in the air. Staff in crisp uniforms glided past with trays of champagne and wine, offering delicate glasses that sparkled like the guests themselves.

And the guests. Each one hidden behind ornate masks, dressed in tailored suits and flowing gowns, laughter muffled by polite conversation and the occasional clink of crystal. The entire ballroom shimmered with motion and elegance, the air alive with quiet prestige.

At the far end of the room, an orchestra played a soft, haunting melody. A waltz that wound through the evening like silk. Violins harmonized with cellos as couples swayed gently across the dance floor, their silhouettes graceful under golden lights. The music didn’t demand attention; it wove through the space, letting elegance speak for itself.

Seungcheol stood at the entrance for a moment longer, absorbing the scene. Dressed in a deep charcoal tuxedo, his mask was sleek, made of brushed silver, perfectly fitted and simple. Just like him.

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit with quiet precision and took a slow breath.

Seungcheol moved through the grand hall with quiet grace, the soft shuffle of his polished shoes drowned by the music and conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure near the center of the ballroom. Mr. Shin, dressed in a regal navy suit, silver embroidery trimming the collar of his jacket. Standing beside him, equally elegant, was Mrs. Shin, her mask adorned with pearls that shimmered with every turn of her head.

With his posture poised and his mask adjusted, Seungcheol approached them and gave a respectful bow.

“Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin,” he greeted formally, voice steady. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

Mr. Shin turned, a pleased smile stretching under his mask. “Seungcheol! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show. I’m glad you came.”

Mrs. Shin offered a soft nod, “You look dashing tonight, dear. As always.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, not when it comes from the both of you,” he said with a light smile, still formal in tone. “The venue is breathtaking.”

They shared a few pleasantries, light jokes exchanged beneath crystal chandeliers. Seungcheol tried his best to blend into the moment, smiling at the passing comments, laughing politely, sipping wine when handed a glass, but the stiffness in his shoulders never quite faded.

And then, as expected, his conversation naturally veered back to what he knew best.

“Actually, just before coming here, we finalized the restructuring proposal for the third branch’s distribution-”

He stopped himself, but the Shin couple only smiled knowingly.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head with a gentle chuckle, “Oh, darling. You can talk about work all you like if it helps you feel at home. No masks are needed for that.”

Her words, though playful, pierced the tension in him like a warm knife through ice. Seungcheol let out a soft exhale, barely realizing he had been holding his breath.

And so, he spoke. About the company. About numbers. About staff growth. About challenges and solutions.

And strangely enough, the conversation didn’t feel out of place. Mr. Shin offered insights, Mrs. Shin listened intently, nodding with that gentle, matronly glow she always carried. The air grew lighter around them, the laughter more genuine, the pressure in Seungcheol’s chest slowly easing.

Then, Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder with a proud smile.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. “My daughter just returned home after her studies abroad. I think the two of you will get along.”

Seungcheol turned just in time to see her approach.

You wore a pale lavender gown, subtle and elegant, flowing like morning mist. Your mask was delicate, silver trimmed with lace, soft feathers curling at the edges. You moved with the grace of someone raised in soft-spoken confidence, eyes quietly scanning the room until they landed on him.

The moment your eyes met, everything fell silent, except for the sound of wedding bells. Clear and unmistakable. Ringing only in your ears, like the universe had struck a chord, and fate had written the first line of a new story.

Both stood still for a moment too long, unsure whether to speak or breathe. And in the corner of his eye, Seungcheol saw Mrs. Shin’s knowing smile.

The bells still echoed faintly in Seungcheol’s ears, even as the rest of the ballroom returned to its natural soundscape. Soft music, low chatter, the clinking of glasses.

But for Seungcheol, the world had slowed.

His soulmate. He had finally found you. He should have felt relief, even joy. This was the moment most people spent their lives yearning for. The ache he had carried silently for years, the lingering worry behind every family dinner and silent commute, had finally found an answer.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t going to make it easy.

You are twenty. Young, bright-eyed, and still new to the world. Ten years younger. And worse, you are Mr. Shin’s daughter, the Mr. Shin he had admired for over a decade, the very man who shaped the path Seungcheol now walked. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel allowed.

This couldn’t be happening… could it?

Just as he was grounding himself, still locking eyes with the girl whose existence had just turned his world upside down, Mr. Shin’s voice cut in again, calm and casual.

He reached out, gently patting his daughter’s head as he looked at you with a father’s pride.

“I’ve been preparing for retirement,” he said, almost wistfully, “but before I can step back, I need to make sure she’s ready for what comes next.”

Seungcheol turned to him slowly, blinking.

“I need someone to teach her how to face the working world. Someone sharp, experienced… someone I trust more than anyone else in this industry.”

He turned fully to Seungcheol now, smile warm, eyes firm.

“So before I retire, Seungcheol… can I pass her to you? For mentorship, or practical training. Nothing prepares someone better than real experience.”

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Seungcheol’s grip on his champagne glass tightened slightly, his composed expression slipping just barely for a breath of a second.

Not only had he just discovered his soulmate, he was also being asked on the same night to personally guide you into the working world, into the very fire he had spent ten years learning to survive.

And you would be close every day. His soulmate. His senior’s daughter. His future trainee. His knees almost gave out, but he smiled faintly and nodded, because what else could he do?

“…Of course, sir,” he said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. “I’d be honored.”

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. and Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all.

You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

“So… I guess we heard it too,” you said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah. We did.”

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” he said, dipping his head politely. “But I assume you already knew that.”

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. “And I’m Shin Y/N.” You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on—guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves—but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still. Electric.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “Tonight, or… you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You mean you didn’t expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?”

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you teased. “But it’s alright. I didn’t expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we’re even.”

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior’s daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

“If this gets overwhelming,” he said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, “just say so. I won’t rush into anything. I know this is… a lot.”

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. “Why do you sound like you’re the one overwhelmed?”

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

“…Because I’ve spent years building a life I could control,” he said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. “Then maybe I’m here to teach you how to let go. Just a little.”

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed… and then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

“…I think you might be,” he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. “Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir.” And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi.”

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn’t losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. “You may begin today.”

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time. “You may return to your tasks,” he told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you.

The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full.

You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

“I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

“…Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

“Take out a pen and a notebook,” he said briskly, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to be the next CEO of your father’s company, you’ll need to start by remembering a few things.”

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

“Rule number one,” he continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. “No one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name.”

You nodded, scribbling it down.

“Rule two,” he said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. “Always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, “That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi.”

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rule three,” he said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. “Stop charming your mentor. It’s distracting.”

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface.

He kept his instructions sharp, his tone professional, walking you through key departments, introducing the core team, and pointing out what made his company function like a well-oiled machine. To any outsider, it looked like another day of excellence from the CEO.

But the staff, sharp-eyed and always quietly observant, noticed something was off. It wasn’t something loud. There were no smiles stretched too far, no extravagant gestures. It was the way he stood a little too close.

The way his voice dropped just slightly whenever he spoke to you. The way he’d glance at you longer than he intended when you weren’t looking. And above all, the strange, rare gentleness in his expression when he watched you scribble notes or tilt your head in concentration.

To them, he was different today.

Seungcheol didn’t think so. He was just… doing his job. Guiding you, as Mr. Shin had asked, offering knowledge and sharing insight. So why did standing next to you feel like the only part of his day that wasn’t suffocating?

Every time your shoulder brushed his as you walked beside him, his chest felt lighter, like the years of pressure he’d buried beneath routine and deadlines were slowly peeling away.

He blamed it on the soulmate bond. That had to be it.

Still, it didn’t explain how you made silence feel so comforting. Even when neither of you were talking, your presence carried a calm aura—quiet but grounding.

And for someone like Seungcheol, a man who lived and breathed pressure, your calm was unfamiliar… and unsettling.

Not in a bad way, but in a foreign, “how-do-I-function-while-feeling-peace” kind of way.

He was in the middle of explaining their operations team structure when he noticed you looking up at him with that same unwavering gaze. Focused, soft, and admiring, as if he wasn’t just your mentor, but someone you deeply trusted already.

That was when he blanked out. He literally forgot the point he was going to make.

“-and that department handles… uh…” His brows furrowed, staring at the floor plan pinned on the wall like it had betrayed him. “The, um…”

You tilted your head. “The logistics team?”

He cleared his throat, nodding once. “Right. Logistics.”

His voice returned to its usual pace, but internally, panic echoed like an alarm.

Thankfully, a familiar knock on the glass broke the moment. His secretary peeked in again.

“Sir, your meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

A lifeline.

He straightened quickly. “Right. Thank you.”

He turned to you, voice brisk but not cold. “I’ll need to prepare. My secretary will guide you around the rest of the office.”

You nodded politely. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

And just like that, he walked away, maybe a little too quickly, and stepped into his office, letting the door close behind him.

Only when the lock clicked into place did he exhale. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against his desk for a second, glaring at nothing in particular before muttering under his breath: “…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol.”

He scowled at his own reflection in the black monitor, then sat down and opened the meeting files, anything to distract himself from the echo of your smile in his mind.

The meeting room was sleek and quiet, filled with department heads and key project managers all seated in neat rows around the long conference table. On the wall, the quarterly projections were being presented by one of the finance leads: charts, graphs, bullet points ticking forward one by one.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol looked the same as always. Sharp suit, steady gaze, and the calm posture as he sat at the head of the table.

But his fingers betrayed him.

They tapped quietly against the table’s surface, then began twirling his pen between them. An unconscious habit. Over and over, the silver pen spun in rhythm, not once slipping, not once faltering. Precision, yes, but not focus.

His eyes stayed forward, directed at the slides, but his mind wasn’t in the room.

It was still in the hallway. Back where you walked beside him, soft footsteps echoing alongside his. It was stuck on the memory of the way you tilted your head, smiling gently. The way your voice sounded when you said, “I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat picked up again.

He subtly loosened the top button of his collar with one hand, hoping no one noticed. A deep breath filled his lungs, but did nothing to cool the sudden warmth behind his ears.

Get a grip, Seungcheol.

One of the department leads directed a question toward him. He caught it, answered professionally and concisely. The pause before he spoke was half a second too long, but not enough to cause alarm.

His pen spun again, even faster now, almost mechanical.

Why was this happening?

He had handled crises, led multi-million-dollar negotiations, turned failing branches into flagship models. He had faced rooms full of foreign investors and government officials. But now, here he was, fidgeting with a pen like some college intern, thinking about a girl with calm eyes and a presence that made his carefully structured world feel… quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. And Seungcheol didn’t know if that was comforting—or terrifying.

Someone called out his name again, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes?” he responded, blinking back into the present.

All eyes turned to him, waiting. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “I agree with the previous point. Let’s move forward with scenario B, but add a contingency plan for client-side delays. I’ll review the proposed schedule by Friday.”

Everyone nodded. The meeting continued.

But even as the presentation resumed, Seungcheol’s hand never stopped spinning the pen. And under the table, where no one could see, his leg bounced just slightly.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling, just barely.

The meeting ended without incident, at least from an outside perspective. Everyone filed out of the room with their notes and laptops, chatting quietly, discussing next steps. Seungcheol stayed seated for a few seconds longer than usual, pretending to review the printed schedule, though his eyes barely read the lines.

When he finally stood, he adjusted his jacket, gave his usual nod to his assistant, and made his way back to his office.

The walk down the hallway was normal. The familiar click of his shoes on polished floors. A few passing greetings from staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he opened his office door. And you were there, seated on the leather guest chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, notebook in hand. You looked up immediately as the door opened, offering him that same disarming smile, the one that had singlehandedly ruined his focus for the past two hours.

“Oh,” you said softly, “welcome back, Mr. Choi.”

His steps faltered, but only for a second. He walked inside with his usual calm, closing the door behind him. “Did my secretary bring you back here?”

“She did,” you replied, standing up as a gesture of respect. “I didn’t want to wander around too long without you.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at that sentence.

Without me, huh?

He made his way around the desk, taking his seat while pretending not to notice the way your presence shifted the air in the room. He placed his notes down, but didn’t look at them.

You stood there quietly, notebook still in hand, waiting—always respectful, always composed. He hated how much he liked that.

“Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, stepping forward again, calm and graceful. “Yes. Everyone was kind. But…”

You paused for a beat, then gave a teasing tilt of your head. “It’s a little boring without you.”

His pen rolled slightly across the desk from how fast his fingers froze.

You quickly added, “I meant that you explain things better. That’s all.”

“…Right,” he replied, clearing his throat, gaze darting briefly to the side before grounding himself again. “Let’s resume where we left off then. Sit down.”

You obeyed, smiling faintly as you opened your notebook again. Seungcheol forced himself to focus—not on you, not on your expression, not on the soft perfume that somehow lingered between the pages of your notes—but on his words. Yet, as he began speaking again about corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning, his voice betrayed him. It was softer now, gentler.

He wasn’t sure when that started happening. He only knew it never sounded like that before you arrived.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting a golden hue across the city buildings outside his office window. The office had begun to empty, lights switching off one by one as employees finished their tasks and bid each other goodnight.

Seungcheol was still at his desk, organizing a few final documents, when your voice cut through the stillness.

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, standing by the doorway, bag slung over your shoulder. “I think my driver forgot to come. I’ve been trying to call, but… nothing.”

He looked up immediately, brows tugging together. “Didn’t your father assign someone?”

You shook your head, looking only slightly bothered. “Both of my parents are working late today. The housekeeper said she can’t leave either. I can wait, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment longer before instinct kicked in. He grabbed his phone and stood up, dialing Mr. Shin with practiced fingers.

The call connected quickly. “Mr. Shin,” Seungcheol said with crisp professionalism. “This is Seungcheol. I wanted to ask if I should assign one of my drivers to send Y/N-”

“Why do you fetch my daughter back home?” Mr. Shin’s voice cut in, amused. “You know where my house is, and I’m sure my daughter trusts you.”

Seungcheol’s brain momentarily stalled.

“I- uh…” His voice cracked before he caught himself. “Yes, sir. Of course. If that’s what you prefer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Shin said cheerfully, “Good luck,” and then promptly hung up.

The silence in his office was sudden, sharp. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at it like it had betrayed him.

And then, your voice.

“So?” you asked, leaning slightly into the doorway now, your tone light, your smile just a touch too innocent to be unintentional. “What did he say?”

Seungcheol sighed, head tilting back briefly toward the ceiling. A soft groan escaped him, one of defeat rather than irritation. He looked at you, one brow slightly raised.

“Grab your things,” he muttered, already reaching for his coat. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

You let out a delighted hum, following close behind as he flicked off the lights and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, the air was calm and comfortable, yet Seungcheol’s heart thudded just a little faster. Not because of the weight of responsibility, but because you were beside him again, walking into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward.

This day was spiraling far faster than he’d planned… and he hadn’t even started the car yet.

The car ride started in silence.

You sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands resting neatly on your lap, your bag tucked by your feet. Seungcheol, behind the wheel, exhaled slowly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, not because it needed adjusting, but because he needed something to do other than look at you.

He wasn’t used to this.

His soulmate, sitting this close, beside him, inside his car. A space that had always been quiet, strictly for thinking or decompressing. Now? It felt like you were too close, and your presence was too warm. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and then your voice came. Soft, teasing, and sweet.

“You don’t talk much when you’re driving, huh?”

His knuckles went white on the wheel. “I’m focused.”

You chuckled. “Focused on not crashing? Or focused on ignoring me?”

His jaw clenched.

God, your voice.

Light and lilting, floating straight into his ears, sitting there like it belonged. It curled around him slowly, teasing the edges of his control. He prayed to every higher being in the sky that the red light wouldn’t last long, or else he’d melt into the driver’s seat. And then you had to go and say it.

“By the way… I know I didn’t ask earlier, but is it okay that I sit here? In the front?”

He nearly choked on air. What was he supposed to say to that? No, please sit at the back so I don’t lose my mind?

“It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked firmly on the road ahead. “You’re my passenger. Of course you sit there.”

But you weren’t just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you were looking at him like you could see every thought written on his skin.

He was barely holding it together. His grip on the steering wheel never eased. His heart was pounding in a very unsafe rhythm, and he had no idea what expression you were wearing because he didn’t dare glance your way.

Not until you touched him.

It was gentle, a brush of your fingers over his knuckles, maybe meant to comfort him. But the warmth that surged through his entire arm?

The way your touch somehow seeped into his skin and calmed every frantic part of him?

Too much, his heart skipped a beat, and that was when he almost crashed.

“-Shit,” he hissed as the car veered just slightly toward another lane. Someone honked loudly. Seungcheol reacted fast, jerking the steering wheel just enough to swerve back, crossing briefly into an open lane before easing to the side of the road.

He came to a slow, shaky stop. Only then did he realize, he’d been holding his breath. The exhale that left him was heavy, his hands still frozen on the steering wheel. His eyes wide, jaw clenched, adrenaline coursing through him, and beside him, you were giggling. Not just giggling, you were laughing.

He turned his head slowly, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

Your laughter only got louder, trying, but failing, to look apologetic as your shoulders shook.

“Y-You almost-” you hiccuped in the middle of your laugh, “-crashed because I touched your hand? Really?”

He should have been mad, or embarrassed. But instead… he found himself smiling, leaning back against his seat as the tension slowly bled out of him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Too dangerous.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still breathless. “Sorry! I really didn’t think it’d throw you off that much.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t touch me when I’m driving, or I might not just almost crash next time.”

You placed a hand over your chest, playfully solemn. “Got it. Hands off the CEO while he’s behind the wheel.”

With a final, lingering look, and a sigh that carried a secret smile, he started the engine again. This time, the drive was calmer, still quiet. But the silence now? Laced with warmth.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day, Choi Seungcheol arrived at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair styled neatly, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp. A plan already mapped in his head.

Today, he told himself, he would not lose focus, he would be composed and professional. Distant, even.

He was a CEO, not some college boy crushing on his lab partner.

And then you walked in. Calm as ever, radiating soft energy like it was stitched into your aura. You greeted everyone with a polite bow, a warm smile that reached your eyes, and when your gaze met his across the hallway, you smiled wider.

He blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. Stay sharp, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed behind him into his office, as per usual. You placed your notebook on the desk neatly, your voice as honeyed as it was yesterday. “Good morning, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat betrayed him again, but he forced a nod.

“Morning. Let’s begin the schedule,” he said, already opening his laptop to avoid your eyes.

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You slept well after your near-death experience yesterday?”

He stiffened.

You were teasing him, again.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t near-death.”

“It was slightly near,” you said with a soft giggle. “You looked like you were about to write your will in that parking lane.”

He closed his laptop slowly, eyes finally meeting yours. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

He clicked his pen once, and twice. Trying to stay unbothered and ignore the way your laughter from the day before still echoed in his ears like a favorite song.

“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on to today’s shadowing.”

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. You had plans. You stayed close, just close enough to keep him aware of your presence, but never inappropriate. You asked thoughtful questions, tilted your head as you listened, eyes always fixed on him with that same soft admiration.

Your voice? Still sweet.

Your tone? Still respectful, but never flat.

He was drowning quietly. And the worst part? He knew you were doing it on purpose.

He tried keeping distance. Told you to observe from the corner during a department discussion. You obeyed, then proceeded to thank him afterward, calling his approach “insightful and clean-cut.”

He told you to grab coffee for a break, hoping you’d step away. You returned ten minutes later with a second cup for him. His favorite, somehow.

He froze when you handed it to him. “How did you know this is what I drink?”

You tilted your head again, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “You mentioned it once. Thought I’d remember.”

He had no words, just sipped silently, while the heat of the coffee failed to cover the warmth spreading in his chest.

By lunch, he was cornered—emotionally, mentally, completely. And then came the final blow.

You peeked into his office again after a quick team session, hands behind your back like a child with a secret. “I finished organizing the files from the budget review. Do you want me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

You stepped inside, but instead of placing the files on his desk, you walked closer, slower, and set them gently right beside him, leaning just a bit forward. Then, you whispered, voice like silk, “You're doing great, you know.”

He turned his head so fast it startled even himself.

You stepped back immediately, that same sweet expression never leaving your face. “Just thought someone should tell you.”

He stared at you, absolutely blindsided.

You smiled again. “I’ll get back to my desk now.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, like you hadn’t just sent his heart sprinting through his ribcage.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, dragging a hand over his face, muttering under his breath: “…I’m doomed.”

Per Mr. Shin’s earlier request, Seungcheol knew that as part of your mentorship, you needed to start observing internal meetings, especially the ones that mattered. And this one, definitely mattered.

The conference room was filled with tension the moment it began. You sat beside Seungcheol, with his secretary just one seat away. The opposing company’s team stood at the other end of the long, glass table—well-dressed, well-prepared, and, unfortunately, woefully out of touch.

At first, the presentation was tolerable. Numbers were clean, projections stable, but as soon as they reached the slide titled Strategic Timeline for Implementation, everything changed.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed.

The speaker on the opposing side continued confidently, explaining outdated timelines and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since flagged as liabilities.

He raised a hand, slowly, but firmly.

“Hold it,” he said.

The speaker paused. Seungcheol gestured toward the screen. “This segment. You need to revise this strategy. We’ve already seen instability in those markets. Collaborating there puts the project at risk.”

The man across the table gave a tight smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline may damage our relationship with the local representatives. A shift might send the wrong message.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardened.

“I said it needs to change.”

The tension escalated. His voice was still level, but underneath it was a warning. You could feel the air grow heavier around the table. The other attendees exchanged subtle glances. His secretary lowered her gaze.

You sat there, watching him. His knuckles were turning white, hand clenched against the table. His shoulders stiff, jaw set, clearly holding back the frustration simmering inside.

Should you do something? You hesitated. You’d never seen him this serious before. This cold. It was a side of him you hadn’t met: CEO Choi in full form. Intimidating, sharp, commanding.

But something in you… moved.

Even if he’s your boss. Even if you’re scared. You didn’t want him to be swallowed by the storm he was holding back.

So, gently—barely noticeable to anyone else—you reached out beneath the table, and touched his knuckles.

The tension left his hand almost instantly. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at you, but he felt it, and it grounded him.

His eyes flicked back to the presenter. His shoulders lowered slightly. And then—calm, steady, dangerous—he spoke again.

“I said the cons of not changing. If you can’t change,” he began, voice slow and clear, “I can already see your company failing, and dragging mine down with it.”

The room froze.

“So I suggest you change it,” he continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “or I’ll stop collaborating with you altogether.”

He leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping a notch.

“It’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

Dead silence followed.

The opposing speaker faltered, swallowed hard, and eventually nodded. “Understood… We’ll revise it.”

Seungcheol nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

The rest of the meeting passed with no further resistance. Everyone suddenly became a lot more agreeable. When it ended, people stood slowly, gathering their notes and trying to pretend they hadn’t just witnessed the CEO version of a guillotine.

You, meanwhile, were still seated, glancing at him quietly.

As soon as the door shut behind the last guest, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. Not loud, but deep. Then he finally looked at you. Not cold, not intimidating, just… aware.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “For what?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a small, dry smile. “For keeping me from flipping the table.”

You giggled softly. “Glad I could stop a potential lawsuit.”

He laughed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Me? I just touched your hand.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyeing you. “That’s the problem.”

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room closed with a muted click, sealing away the tension that had filled the space just moments ago. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket.

Seungcheol remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders finally relaxed, jaw no longer set, but he didn’t move, not yet.

He glanced toward you, and then his gaze dropped to your hands.

They were resting gently in your lap, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. The same hands that had grounded him just minutes earlier with nothing more than a simple touch.

His eyes lingered there longer than he should have and you noticed.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips, making his eyes flicker up to your face in mild panic, but you weren’t teasing. Your smile was warm, as if you already understood what he was thinking without needing him to say it aloud.

You shift your seat closer to his, and without asking, without hesitation, you reached out and gently cupped his hands, both of them.

Your palms were warm. Your grip wasn’t delicate, it was steady and secure, like you weren’t just touching him, you were anchoring him.

He stiffened at first, not used to being handled like that. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something cracked inside him. Something quiet.

You smiled at him again, sweet and sure, and then said with the calmest voice he’d ever heard: “Hold onto mine if you want. I’m always here beside you.”

The words weren’t loud, they weren’t dramatic, but God, did they hit hard. His breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers, usually firm and commanding, hesitated, and then slowly, tentatively, curled around yours.

The pressure in his chest eased, the sharp edge of his thoughts dulled, and in its place was only your warmth, quietly settling in his bloodstream, pushing out the last remnants of the anger and disappointment that had clouded him just minutes ago.

It felt dangerous and addictive, but more than anything, it felt right.

He said nothing, still lost in your gaze.

And you? You didn’t ask for anything in return, you simply stood there, smiling as if you had all the time in the world to wait for him to breathe again.

And finally, he did.

“…You’re trouble,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

You laughed, soft and silvery. “You’ve said that before.”

He shook his head slightly. “I meant it even more now.”

But he didn’t let go, not yet.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The day had finally drawn to a close. The last of the lights at the office flickered off, and staff began to disappear one by one. Choi Seungcheol stepped out of the elevator, jacket draped over his arm, briefcase in hand, ready to head home.

That was until his secretary caught him in the lobby.

“Mr. Choi,” she said with a small nod toward you, waiting quietly near the front entrance. “Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a ride.”

He blinked once.

Again?

His eyes drifted toward you. You were scrolling on your phone, humming lightly under your breath, completely unbothered. Just like yesterday.

Suspicious.

You looked up at him at just the right moment, smiling, and all his suspicion melted into a sigh.

“...She’s doing this on purpose,” he mumbled to himself, but louder than he meant to. Still, he nodded toward the car. “Let’s go.”

You fell into step beside him, cheerful and bright even in the evening glow. Once inside the car, you didn’t even hesitate, you walked straight to the passenger seat and slid in smoothly, as if it were your assigned spot.

Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began to drive.

Silence filled the space again, peaceful, but electric in its own way.

He kept his eyes forward, focused, or trying to be. Then your voice—soft, laced with mischief—cut into the quiet.

“Do you want to get late supper?”

The car didn’t swerve this time, but Seungcheol’s grip on the wheel definitely stiffened. He glanced at you briefly.

Late supper? That was not in the schedule.

His routine was sacred. Home, shower, towel-dry hair for two minutes exactly, collapse onto bed, wake up, work, and repeat.

He did not do it spontaneously yet here you were, blinking at him innocently.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to look at you.

“Late supper?” he repeated, like the phrase was foreign.

You nodded. “I know there are some places still open for people like me.”

People like you? What did that mean? Were you just… casual about life like that? Wandering the streets at midnight, hunting for warm broth and rice with no plan whatsoever?

That was chaos, and dangerous… but oddly tempting. And while his mind absolutely panicked over the idea of shifting his routine by even an inch, his heart was already halfway to the restaurant.

He stared at you. You stared back, innocently and unassuming, completely unaware of the inner breakdown he was having. Or… maybe fully aware.

He sighed heavily, eyes closing for a second. “Key in the address.”

You beamed, tapping in the location into his GPS. He drove through the green light with a defeated grunt. He glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. and for once in his life, he didn’t hate the idea of change.

The city lights shimmered against the night sky, and neon signs flickered above street corners, glowing softly like stars fallen to the ground. The GPS guided Seungcheol through a few narrow turns before slowing to a stop beside a quiet cluster of food stalls tucked between two buildings.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried batter, and warm soup broth.

It wasn’t flashy or pristine, it wasn’t anything remotely close to what CEO Choi Seungcheol was used to.

And yet… he was here.

You stepped out of the car with a bright grin, your shoes softly clicking on the pavement. You turned back to face him as he closed the car door slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scene like a foreign landscape.

“First time?” you asked, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Very first.”

You giggled, hugging your arms to yourself. “Same. But I wanted to explore, and I figured... food like this probably tastes better when you’re not worried about etiquette.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s what everyone says before they get food poisoning.”

You shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a corporate man.”

“And you’re reckless,” he muttered, but followed you anyway.

You led him to one of the stalls with a steaming pot of tteokbokki, skewers glistening beside it. The ahjumma running the stall gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to sit.

The two of you took seats on worn plastic stools under a flickering lightbulb, the table in front of you scratched with time, marked with memories. And somehow, to Seungcheol, it felt weirdly peaceful.

You handed him a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “Let’s try not to act like we just left a board meeting.”

Seungcheol stared down at the food. No plated silverware, no polished wine glasses, just bubbling spicy sauce and steam against the cool air.

It was chaotic and… warm.

He picked up a piece of rice cake, blew on it once, then tasted it. His eyebrows rose.

“...That’s not bad.”

You laughed. “Not bad? That’s it? That’s your review?”

He nodded, eyes focused on the next bite. “Spicy. A little sweet. Soft texture. Good balance.”

“God,” you groaned, “you’re reviewing it like a Michelin judge.”

“You invited a CEO. What did you expect?”

You laughed again, and the sound danced through the night air, making his chest feel far lighter than it had all day.

As you both ate, conversation flowed more freely. You talked about small things: food preferences, random bucket list items, silly high school moments. Seungcheol found himself leaning forward more, laughing softly, even forgetting to check the time.

He didn’t even realize how relaxed he looked. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks clumsily trying to balance a fish cake skewer.

At one point, you handed him a tissue as he dabbed the edge of his mouth, cheeks slightly red from the heat of the spice.

“Next time,” you said between bites, “we should try grilled skewers by the river. I heard they open till 3AM.”

He stared at you.

Next time?

A part of him panicked again, knowing this was starting to become a habit. But the other part? The one quietly folding inside his chest, heartbeat slow and warm? That part didn’t mind at all.

After the last bite was eaten and the food stall cleared, you both stood up from your stools, stomachs full and spirits even fuller. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already fishing out a few bills to pay, but before you could even lift your hand to the stall owner, Seungcheol moved faster. With practiced ease, he gently pushed your hand aside—not harshly, but firm enough to make you blink in surprise—and handed over the exact cash to the ahjumma behind the stall.

He didn’t even look at you as he accepted the change with a polite nod.

You, on the other hand, were left blinking in quiet disbelief.

No words were exchanged in that moment.

The two of you returned to the car under the soft night sky, sliding into your seats once again. The car’s interior greeted you with its usual scent, clean leather and something that faintly smelled like cedarwood and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head toward him, curious.

“How did you have cash money in you?”

He glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I’m not always a card guy, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff. “Right. A card and cash money guy who doesn’t know how to relax.”

That made him laugh this time, a sound that was deep and rich and a little too attractive for your heart to handle. But it didn’t stop there.

He turned to say something else, only to realize you hadn’t buckled in yet. His eyes lowered to the strap by your side, then back at you.

“Seatbelt,” he muttered softly, but instead of waiting for you to fix it, he leaned in.

You froze.

The air felt thinner suddenly.

Seungcheol reached across you, one arm brushing past your shoulder, fingers catching the seatbelt smoothly as he clicked it into place. His scent surrounded you, something expensive and warm. He didn’t notice how close he was. He didn’t see the way your breath hitched, or how your lashes fluttered like they were trying to compose themselves.

To him, it was just another responsible act.

To you? It was too close. Too sudden and overwhelming.

He leaned back into his seat like nothing happened, shot you a relaxed smile as his hand returned to the wheel.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, as if your heart wasn’t thundering like a drum in your ears.

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parting, unsure if you should thank him or scream internally. But eventually, you just gave a small nod, tucking your hands on your lap.

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “Ready.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains of Seungcheol’s penthouse, casting warm light across his pristine walk-in closet. Rows of crisp shirts, tailored blazers, perfectly ironed trousers, and a curated collection of designer watches lined the walls like an exhibition.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, a clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, his charcoal grey blazer slung loosely over one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, falling in soft waves over his forehead.

And yet, he frowned.

Something was… off.

His hands moved on their own, slipping off the blazer and replacing it with a navy one. He buttoned the cuffs, stared into the mirror and tilted his head.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-colored jacket, loosened the collar slightly, and he looked at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

There was no event today, no company gala, no board of directors flying in from overseas. It was just a regular day at work. But then again… you would be there.

That alone was enough to make his entire closet suddenly feel insufficient.

He wasn’t even sure when it started, this strange habit of wanting to look just a little better each morning, starting from today. All he knew was that your eyes, so bright and attentive, always lingered a little longer than necessary. And the way you smiled at him, as if he was someone worth admiring…

He wanted to live up to that look.

He tried on three different watches before settling on a Piaget brand Polo Date watch. Switched out his usual thin-framed glasses for a bolder pair. Dabbed on a Creed brand cologne. Then he stood back, observing himself fully.

Blazer sharp, tie slightly loosened, hair perfectly imperfect, and a hint of confidence in his smirk, just enough to keep him grounded. Still, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Choi Seungcheol...”

But he didn’t change.

With one last glance in the mirror and a small breath to steady the fluttering inside his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The automatic doors of the building slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a gentle gust of morning air. Seungcheol stepped into the familiar lobby, polished floors reflecting the low sunlight spilling through the glass walls. The day had just begun. Staff were slowly trickling in, exchanging greetings and organizing the day’s start.

And then he saw you, standing near the entrance, chatting lightly with the front desk assistant, smiling just enough to make time slow down.

You looked simple—fresh-faced, your hair styled neatly, blouse tucked into a modest skirt—but to Seungcheol, you were breathtaking.

Maybe it was the light hitting you just right, or the soft sound of your laugh, or maybe, it was just you being you. Whatever it was, he was gone the moment your eyes lifted to meet his.

You turned fully toward him, a little surprise in your gaze, followed quickly by something warmer, something curious as your eyes slowly drifted from his face to… his clothes.

You blinked once, and then twice before your lips curled up knowingly.

“Oh?” you said with an arch of your brow, arms crossing lightly over your chest. “New look today, Mr. Choi?”

He tried to act unaffected, adjusting the strap of his watch as if it wasn’t planned, as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating between jackets this morning.

“I just picked whatever was clean,” he said flatly.

You giggled softly, stepping closer, eyes never leaving his figure.

“Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today.”

He froze, not obviously, but just enough for his breath to catch for half a second.

You looked back up at his face, tilting your head, clearly amused at how his ears turned ever so slightly pink.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“You are.”

“Y/N,” he warned lightly, though the corners of his lips gave away the smile threatening to break free.

You stepped beside him, walking toward the elevator as he followed. “You know,” you said, glancing at him sideways, “if dressing up makes you this charming in the morning, I might start asking you to do it more often.”

He scoffed gently, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t get used to it.”

“But you did it for me, didn’t you?” you teased, voice low and sweet.

The elevator dinged, and he walked in without responding. You followed closely behind, the space inside suddenly smaller than you remembered. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer. And when he caught your reflection in the elevator door, still staring at him with that quiet affection, you saw it: that small smile, breaking through.

The morning had passed quietly. Well, as quiet as it could be when your mentor happened to be the CEO and also your soulmate.

You sat at your desk just outside Seungcheol’s office, sorting through case studies he had handed you earlier. You were almost done highlighting key points when your phone buzzed softly beside your notebook.

It was a message from your mother.

《Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual. We’d love to see the two of you together. I made a reservation already, just in case.》

Your eyes widened slightly at the abruptness. You sighed softly. Of course your mom didn’t wait for confirmation before booking a spot. After re-reading it twice, you got up from your desk, lightly knocking on Seungcheol’s office door before pushing it open.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reviewed a report. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your knock.

“Yes?”

You stepped in, holding up your phone. “My parents messaged. They want to have lunch with you today. Apparently they already made a reservation.”

He turned fully to face you, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Today?”

You nodded, showing him the text.

He didn’t react much on the surface, but you could tell he wasn’t the type who took surprises well. Still, his expression remained composed, only betraying a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

“Cancel the team check-in for 1PM. And block a lunch schedule under the Shin family.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied promptly.

He turned to you, expression unreadable but his tone even.

“I assume they picked a restaurant already?”

You nodded. “They did. I’ll send you the location.”

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of work on his desk, clearly adjusting his internal clock again.

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not a shareholders meeting.”

He gave a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve met your parents, right? Do they seem like the type to keep things ‘casual’?”

You laughed. “Touché.”

He watched you quietly for a moment, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

You paused. “…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you,” you said honestly. “And I know how much they respect you, likewise to you.”

He held your gaze a beat longer, before his lips curved, just slightly. “You make it sound like I’m meeting them for the first time.” then he cleared his throat and reached for his watch.

“I’ll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but not before tossing him a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi.”

The only reply you got was the sound of a pen clicking behind you, and a quiet, amused exhale.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The restaurant was elegantly quiet, the kind of place where even the clink of silverware was softened by velvet-covered walls and subtle classical music. The hostess led you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents were already seated. Your mother in her pearls, your father sharp in a navy suit, as dignified as ever.

“Seungcheol,” your father greeted first, standing to shake his hand. Seungcheol gave a slight bow, professional but respectful.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin.”

“Likewise. Please, sit.”

You quietly slipped into the seat beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands folded politely on your lap.

The first few minutes were expected. Business as usual. Your father inquired about company expansion, potential collaborations, the trajectory of your training under Seungcheol’s wing. You listened attentively, occasionally stealing glances at your mentor, who answered every question with calm poise and clean, articulate responses.

It was going perfectly. Then the food arrived, and with it, your mother’s sudden ambush.

“So,” she said lightly, reaching for her soup spoon. “How is my daughter in your company?”

Seungcheol dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

“She’s attentive. Observant. Quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she’s shown in just a few days.”

You blinked, warmth blooming in your chest. The compliment made you sit just a little straighter. But your mother wasn't finished.

“And how is she…” she said, stirring her soup slowly, “…as your soulmate?”

The spoon Seungcheol had just brought to his mouth halted halfway. Then-

Choke.

Not a polite cough or a dignified clear of the throat, no. A full-on choke. You nearly dropped your own spoon as you rushed to grab his glass of water and held it out to him with both hands. He took it immediately, eyes watering as he tried to recover, sipping fast, gulping once, then twice.

“M-Mom!” you cried, cheeks flushing. “Seriously?!”

Across the table, your mother wore the most innocent smile imaginable. “What? I’m just curious.”

Your father turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “Soulmates?”

Your mother nodded, sipping calmly from her tea. “I noticed at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other for far too long. I had a feeling something happened. So I made a few… connections.”

You and Seungcheol froze.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you. Him still trying to swallow down the last of his panic, and you patting his back while staring wide-eyed at her like she’d just exposed your deepest secret.

Then she tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You were too stunned to deny it. Beside you, Seungcheol finally lowered the glass, setting it down slowly on the table.

But he didn’t look up. Not at your mother, and especially not at your father.

His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

You could see the gears in his head… what would they think? A man ten years their daughter, their trusted work partner… now tied to her by something unbreakable, fated.

He was terrified of your father’s judgment, terrified of how this would change everything.

You saw it all in the way his shoulders tensed, and how his eyes remained fixed on the tablecloth. For a moment, the air was still. Then your father set down his spoon with a soft clink and leaned back in his seat.

“…Choi Seungcheol,” he said.

Seungcheol immediately straightened in his chair, gaze still lowered. “Yes, sir.”

Your father’s voice was unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seungcheol hesitated. “…Because I didn’t want to risk complicating anything. With your daughter… or with you.”

Your mother looked between the two men, eyes narrowing slightly. You bit your bottom lip, and your father was quiet again. Then, after a moment that stretched painfully long, he spoke.

“…You’re an honorable man, Seungcheol.” Both you and Seungcheol blinked. Your father continued. “I’ve known that since the first time you sat across from me in a boardroom. That hasn’t changed. But now…” He looked directly at Seungcheol. “That honor means something more. It means you’ll protect her.”

Seungcheol finally looked up, stunned.

Your father gave a small nod. “You didn’t choose this, neither did she. But if fate tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her well, not as your intern, not as your subordinate, but as your equal.”

You stared at your father, lips parted in surprise. And beside you, you heard the breath Seungcheol finally let out. Quiet, shaky, and filled with quiet relief.

“…I will,” he said, voice low but clear. “I promise you. I’ll protect her, sir.”

Your father nodded again, then returned to his soup like he hadn’t just shaken the tension off the entire table. Your mother, watching everything with that quiet knowing glint in her eyes, simply smirked behind her teacup.

“Well,” she said, “now that that’s out of the way, let’s enjoy lunch properly.”

The quiet click of the car doors closing echoed softly in the air, muffled only by the cocoon of silence surrounding the two of you. The engine remained untouched. Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting lightly on the wheel, gaze fixed on the windshield.

But he wasn’t seeing the road.

He was reliving the moment, the conversation over lunch, the weight of your father’s words, the softness in your mother’s knowing smile. He had braced himself for resistance, for disapproval, for that slight pause before your father might say “But she’s still too young.” Instead, what he got… was a blessing. Permission to be selfish with his heart, to love you out loud.

He swallowed hard, feeling the words echo in his chest like they had carved out space just for you. You didn’t choose this, but if fate tied you together... treat her as your equal.

And god, he would.

He would treat you like a queen. He’d spoil you relentlessly, shamelessly. He’d plan every date to perfection. He’d get you that charm bracelet you’d once said you liked, and for every monsary you celebrated together, he’d add a charm. One for each memory.

The pressure of restraint melted off his shoulders like winter snow beneath the sun. And in its place, something even warmer bloomed: freedom. Freedom to love you.

And so, without starting the car, without breaking the moment, he turned his head, and saw you already watching him.

Lovingly. Softly.

As if your gaze could read the chaos of emotions unraveling in his chest.

You smiled, a small, sweet curl of your lips. “Hi,” you whispered.

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to make his head spin.

He laughed. A real one. Not the tight-lipped CEO chuckle he gave in meetings, no. This one was open, light, carefree. His teeth showed, his eyes crinkled, and you, caught in his joy, joined him with a soft chuckle of your own.

Then the laughter faded into something quieter, heavier, something that made the air between you two spark.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Mind if I do something,” he said slowly, voice low and a little breathless, “that’s normal for a thirty-year-old me... but might be embarrassing for you?”

You blinked once, head tilted like a curious kitten, but you nodded, without hesitation. And with that, he leaned in.

One hand lifted, fingers brushing past your hair to cradle the back of your head gently. His touch was steady and certain, like he had waited long enough.

And then, he kissed you soft and warm, eyes closed. No rush, no pressure, just him letting everything he had been holding in for days spill into that single, quiet kiss.

You melted against him almost instinctively, lips moving in sync with his—tender, slow, meaningful.

And in that kiss, Seungcheol thought: so this is what peace tastes like, this is what fate feels like.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed, breaths mixing in the small space between. You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with something sincere.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the masquerade.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The hum of conversation filled the large, sunlit private room in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked, and the smell of food already filled the air, even though not everyone had arrived yet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Seungcheol, dressed in a sleek black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his watch and veins. Beside him, you entered quietly, but not subtly, your fingers gently laced with his.

Heads turned, every conversation stopped. Then-

“Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!”

“Wait, is that her?!”

“Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!”

A wave of chaotic excitement crashed over the room as all of Seungcheol’s friends—his closest circle, the ones he called his brothers—immediately swarmed you with bright eyes and louder voices. Mingyu clapped Seungcheol on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. Soonyoung practically bounced on his heels. Seokmin gave you the biggest, warmest grin.

They were chaos, but they were warm.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Jeonghan looped an arm around your shoulders like you were already part of the family.

“So you’re the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting. “God, we’ve been hearing about you without even hearing your name. It’s an honor.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but let out a small, amused chuckle as everyone finally settled into their seats.

The chaos didn’t stop there, though. Once the appetizers were cleared and laughter quieted to occasional giggles between sips of wine, Jeonghan leaned forward with a grin that screamed mischief.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said, pointing a lazy finger at Seungcheol. “This guy’s been dating her for two years and still didn’t bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't bear waiting. A father now, remember those past times?” He flashed his ring proudly.

The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, others rolling their eyes at Jeonghan’s dramatics, even Seungcheol cracked a wide grin. But he didn’t say anything, not yet, because the best part hadn’t come.

After the main course, when desserts were being served and the wine glasses were half-full, Seungcheol stood up slowly, lifting his glass.

“I have two pieces of news,” he said, his voice calm but his smile soft.

Everyone quieted, eyes turned.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the group. “First- Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father’s company starting this year.”

A round of cheers, whistles, and applause erupted from the table.

“Yah! That’s huge!”

“A power couple, oh my god.”

“Don’t forget us little people when you both own half the country!”

You bashfully lowered your gaze, cheeks warm, mouthing a soft thank you as Seungcheol gently placed a hand on your back.

“And the second piece of news…” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, “-is that she said yes.”

Silence with confused blinks, then-

“Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!”

“SAID YES TO WHAT?!”

“Oh my GOD!”

“You’re LYING!”

The table exploded.

Mingyu stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. Soonyoung dropped his fork. Jeonghan’s jaw dropped open like something out of a drama. Seungcheol just smirked, then gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn’t even need to open it. The moment the box was visible, the screaming got worse.

You held up your hand, heart racing, showing the sparkling ring on your finger with a small smile.

“I’m his fiancée,” you said, voice shy but filled with certainty.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

The group erupted again, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the ring, while Seungcheol calmly sat down next to you, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just broken the minds of every single person at the table. And in the midst of all the shouting and disbelief, he leaned in close to whisper just for you to hear: “You're mine now. Officially.”

Your heart fluttered. And in the chaos of friends and laughter, you never felt more sure. Of him. Of you. Of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight

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lucis-dove · 1 month ago

Text

Coffe𝖾 on dark nights {1}: 𝖠𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗂𝖼𝖺

chapter summary; 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖣𝗋. 𝖠𝖻𝖻𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.

pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x reader

rating: Mature

chapter no: Chapter 1/10 𝗈𝖿 𝖢𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌

wc; 4.2𝗄

tags/warnings; 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾!𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍�� 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖾!𝗀𝖺𝗉

Author; @lucis-dove

a/n: 𝖬𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝗍𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖳𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 to (𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖤𝖱 𝖼𝗈𝗐𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗏𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖣𝗋. 𝖩𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖠𝖻𝖻𝗈𝗍

The morning is slow. It always is at 7:30 A.M.

Most customers trickle in around nine, but the rush always falls around midday to early evening. In those hours, scheduled lunches, afternoon coffee breaks, and the end of workdays overlap until closing.

But you've come to like the mornings. It gives you time to prepare, walk leisurely rather than in a hurry to prepare pastries and sandwiches. It was on the verge of being serene. Brewing your morning drink at work rather than at home. Watching the sun rise to shine through the large windows of the café.

It's a nice start to your mornings, and today follows the same pattern.

With practised ease, you brew your usual morning cup to fend off the lingering chill that stuck to your skin after putting out the Open sign outside. Unsuprisingly, no other than the crips morning air met you as you did.

The smell of frothed milk and sweet spice fills the air as you sit on the stool you'd taken from the back earlier. With your laptop in front of you, you sip your drink as you go over some admin tasks.

What pulls you out of the usual lull of your morning shift is the door opening.

Eyes flickering up, your attention first notes the time. 7:45 A.M. Then they follow the man entering.

"Good morning," you greet him, voice still soft as it usually is in the early hours when you've neither used it much nor strained it to be heard over the crowd's buzz.

His eyes connect with yours and he nods in return.

You watch him as he walks closer, closing your laptop once you notice he doesn't glance at the menu. With your beverage left behind, you step in his direction, fingers already hovering over the register, ready to take his order, as he stops at the other side of the counter.

"Do you have just normal coffee, filter, black?" The side of your mouth twitches at his question.

"Yes. Fancy one to-go or sit here?"

"To go." His gaze never leave yours. Up close, his brown eyes appear lighter from how the sun casts a yellow, warm glow.

"It will be a few minutes as I just started brewing. Is that alright with you?" He nods.

You smile in return as you register his order on the touchscreen. Your nails tap against the glass just slightly, filling the momentary silence.

"When you're ready," you motion to the terminal before him.

Any other time of the day, you would've already moved to fish up a to-go cup, preparing to make the requested beverage before a receipt was printed. But, with no line and only one customer, you stayed put.

You silently offer the man opposite you the strip of paper once it's printed. He equally as wordlessly declined with a motion of his hand.

You give him a soft smile before you move, binning his receipt of a sole black coffee on the way to retrieve what you need. But there wasn't much you could do to prepare his order. The sole ingredient was still dripping away with another five minutes to go.

"I guess you'll skip sugar as well?" You pinch the to-go sweetener between your index and middle finger, holding it up for him to see while looking over your shoulder.

He's threaded a hand beneath the one strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. "Guessed right."

You exhale amusedly, putting the papery package back among the rest.

Once again with nothing to do, you find yourself levitating towards your drink abandoned on the counter. It's still warm when you take a conservative mouthful.

You watch the man with salt and pepper curls. The more salt than pepper dusting his temples catches the light as he looks around the room, making them shine silvery.

The larger details of seats and tables were noted with one sweeping glance, yet he scrutinised the glass display separating you, sandwiches and danishes enduring a more thorough inspection.

"First time here?" Your question earns his attention, eyes flickering to watch you through his brow before his head follows.

"Yes." His lips purse as he nods slightly. "Got a recommendation."

"That's always nice to hear," you reply with a tilt of your head.

He cocks his brows in a minimal fashion as you rose your cup to your lips again. As he continues watching you, you realise he sought the why. You swallow before explaining.

"We opened not too long ago, and word of mouth should never be overlooked for newly established places." You clarify, now cradling your cup in both hands, the warmth seeping into your palms.

"Picked a good spot, around the corner of a hospital full of coffee addicts," his head jerks sideways, hinting at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre not too far away.

"Sometimes you got to be lucky," you shrug, smiling slightly as you take another sip. You take another sp of your dirnk before shifting your mug into one hand. "So is it the end or start of your shift?"

You follow the question with a sweeping motion to your clothes, implying you'd noticed his scrubs but didn't mention it earlier.

"End." Your brows rise, pursing your lips as you nod in understanding.

Your trained ear picks up a minimal flick.

The sound would've been drowned out in a lunch rush by voices and coffee machines. But now it cut through the morning silence to signal the drip coffee finishing.

Although you gave the man a brief smile before shifting your attention, you could feel his eyes remain on you once your back was turned. But it wasn't for long, since with nothing fancy or add-ons to consider, his to-go cup was soon filled with the lid on.

"There you go-" You push his drink across the counter after returning to stand before him, eyes flitting down to catch the name on the ID card clipped to his clothes."-Dr. Abbot. Hopefully it's as good as black coffee gets."

The side of his lips pulls upward at your comment, and he grabs his drink.

"You'll know if it is." Dr. Abbot tilts the mug in an informal thanks.

You chuckle at his curt comment that still held a witty dryness. Meanwhile, he gave a silent goodbye with a nod.

"Have a good day," you call after him as he pushes the door open, receiving two fingers lifted from around the cup in a reciprocating motion as he walks out.

The next time you see Dr. Abbot is a day later, around the same time.

You just exited the backroom, a smaller bag of coffee beans thrown over your left arm and the tin of newly ground ones in your right. Your brows rose as you spotted the familiar Doctor who had just entered.

A smile unfolds on your lips as his gaze settles on you. "So, I take the coffee was acceptable?"

Your face remains turned towards him even as you walk behind the counter and set down the things you brought. Once your arms were free, you moved to take your place behind the register. A few seconds later, he steps up to the counter from his side, hands in his pockets.

"I am here".

You chuckle as he refers to his comment from yesterday. "And I guess you're here for the same delicious drink again?"

"You have an uncanny accuracy in your guessing." His tone was flat, deadpan. But his lips twitch upwards.

"I've heard that before," you flash him a smile, simultaneously typing in his order. He didn't wait for you to motion to the terminal this time.

You heard the receipt printer behind you, but focused on measuring the coffee you'd brought. A deep scent of earth and something nutty filled the air as you distributed enough coffee grounds into the filter.

"It smells good."

"Hm?" You direct over your shoulder, notifying Dr. Abbot that you caught him saying something, but not exactly what.

With the same hand now clutching the strap of his backpack, he pointed to the tin from which you were scooping the brown powder.

"The coffee," he clarifies.

"Oh, yeah, newly ground coffee smells good, especially in the morning," you nod in agreement, moving to fill the water tank for the machine. "But you probably wouldn't have said it with this one," you pat the bag of intact coffee beans to your left.

"Isn't it the same?"

You glance over your shoulder, one side of your mouth tugging into half a smile. "No."

You switch on the machine and turn towards him again. He's watching you, and as you eye him for a few seconds, you make a split-second decision.

Reaching sideways, you bring the ground coffee you'd used for his drink along with another. Dr. Abbot watches you with intrigue until you set down the copper-coloured canisters on the counter between you.

"Here, smell the difference." You push them towards him.

You already know the outcome, holding your amused laugh for long enough to witness his brows furrow after inhaling both coffees he'd risen to his nose.

"Smells like coffee."

"Technically not wrong," you say on the breath of a chuckle as he looks at you again, putting down the tins. "But, there's a slight difference."

"Which is?"

You flash him a smile. "Strap in for the lecture, Doctor."

Your hand settles on the side of the canister to your left, still slightly cold to the touch this early. Dr. Abbot's gaze follows along as you do, intrigue creasing the side of his eyes.

"This is the ground version of the beans we use for the machine." Moving your hand, you point to the bag you'd carried when he entered. You had yet to put it into the coffee machine's grinder, but you simply had to do that after he left. "We use both for espresso; the only difference is the process of making it."

"What's this thing about a bad smell?"

"Not bad, just not as good." You correct him. "It's a dark roast, smells like you imagine strong coffee doing; dark, kinda earthy, sometimes a bit charcoaly."

His lips twitch. "What says I wouldn't like that?"

"Maybe you would, but that you cam back for your last order says otherwise," you retort, mouth mirroring his upwards tilt. You see he's about to say something, so you hurry to continue with a finger held up. "Because of the big difference."

All he does is cross his arms over his chest, his head rolling sideways, remaining silent with the quirk in his lips still present.

"This one is the base of the good drink you returned for: medium-roasted Arabica beans. Call it the happy middle between dark and light roast." You move your right hand to motion to the right canister. "It's smoother, sweeter and less bitter, easier to enjoy black for those who drink it like that," you explain, sending him a humoured wink. He chuckles as his head dips into a shake.

Before he speaks, he looks up at you again, gaze connecting with yours.

"You know your stuff."

"It does help when working at a café." You raise your brows with a swift sideways tilt of your head before putting away your demonstrating objects in their rightful spots. Still, pride flares in your chest at the credit.

"Why does it taste so different?" He asks, before adding, "Between different places."

"Some just pick better quality beans and their degree of roast than others," you reply with a shrug, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

"And you're one of those?" He humours you. Your brows rise with an over-exaggerated expression of 'maybe'.

"Sometimes you've got to pat yourself on the back." When you continue, you do so a bit softer. "But, it all really depends. Ultimately, it's up to the drinker what they prefer."

He nods along with your words. "Anything other than instant coffee or the cheap filter brand at the hospital is enough for this one."

You can't help but let out a short laugh as you turn from him, noticing the red light for the filter coffee had turned off. "Happy I passed that bar at least."

You prepare his coffee, and the procedure is as uncomplicated as yesterday.

"I guess I'll see you around, now that I've been promoted above office-coffee." You place the cup he'd been waiting for between you.

"You probably will." He accompanies the response with a nod, then his version of a goodbye, "Thanks for the coffee and the lesson."

"My pleasure," you reply as he walks to the exit.

Despite assuming he would return, you hadn't anticipated seeing Dr. Abbot on the third day in a row. Nor the fourth or fifth. Although after a week of him stopping by, you counted on the aged doctor with black scrubs and a camouflage-coloured backpack to be your first customer of the day when Monday came around.

He usually arrived around eight, give or take fifteen minutes. But the previous week's pattern had been consistent enough that you knew it was him as soon as the door opened on Monday morning. Even if your back was turned to the entrance.

"Did you stop by during the weekend as well?" You greet him, still filling the freshly ground beans into the, his, filter coffee. You caught the amused huff he released through his nose, confirming it was the anticipated Doctor.

"No, I was off from work." You find your smile comes easily as you turn to face him, pausing your preparation of his drink.

"Your wife must have been overjoyed that you didn't waste your money here, instead having your coffee at home with her," you joke.

You'd noticed the black wedding band on his left hand the first day he'd visited. It was much more discreet than the watch around the same wrist, but still effectively emphasising his marital status.

You'd anticipated a chuckle and a shake of his head. You'd gotten it before with similar comments. When the wives were here with their husbands, they usually also laughed as they nudged them, teasingly, implying. But, they never complained when their drink was paid for as they settled down for a Sunday brunch, hinting that they didn't really mind from the beginning.

What you certainly hadn't expected was the glance down at his hand, which then fisted once his eyes locked with yours.

"Haven't been the case for some time." Dr. Abbot's tone is flat, but it doesn't mean his eyes are void of emotion. Long-processed grief and a flicker of enduring fondness are wrapped together and shining through his unfaced expression.

"Oh." The sound of realisation came with a wave of mortification rushing through your body, the kind that had you wanting to curl up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"Happened years ago," he dismisses with a shrug.

You nod, he didn't seem distressed, so you guessed he didn't lie. But honestly, you're far too gone in your reeling mind to decipher whether it all could be a facade.

Eyeing you in the silence, he cleared his throat. "The ring, I just haven't..." he trails off, eyes falling to his flexing hand before releasing an exasperated sigh once it relaxed alongside his body.

"I understand." He looks at you, then. Truly watches you. "Habits die hard."

Dr. Abbot remained silent but didn't avert his eyes. Instead, you did it, turning to continue preparing the coffee he hadn't verbally ordered, but you knew he was here for. Just as he had during his first visit, his eyes now remain on you from where he stands. Yet, compared to a week earlier, they felt heavier, scorching into your back.

"Well...," your voice is small, careful not to accidentally overstep again as you try breaking the tension that at least you felt. "Then we're two about... you know, having our drinks here rather than home."

"Yes, at least if I want a drinkable cup."

You turn slowly once his coffee is brewing, looking at him with a tilted head after what you'd caught as an attempt at jest.

"Never been good at brewing one yourself?"

"A reason my colleagues hurry to beat me to the coffee machine." His comment lightens the thickness having entered the air. It made it feel possible to laugh, so you chuckle lowly.

"So they are at least delighted you've started stopping by?" Your lips pull into a smile as you finally move closer to him and the cash register to tap in his order.

"Could say that." His answer escapes on the same breath as an amused huff while he paid for the coffee.

In tandem with the receipt printing, the coffee finished. You knew he didn't want the recipt, so you went to fill Dr. Abbot's to-go cup, moving back to deliver it just as the paper with his order finished printing.

Your goodbye passed in silence. Not awkward, simply preferred. He'd nodded, and you answered with a smile and a little wave as he gave you a last look before he exited.

Habits die hard and all that, but you didn't think you would see Dr. Abbot the next day.

Yesterday had ended like it usually did and not a lingering spike of tension. But you couldn't deny the grimace you did as he'd left and you were alone. The Jesus you let out aimed at yourself for the insensitivity, despite knowing most could've made the same honest mistake.

So when the door opened on Tuesday, having you look up from your laptop and see Dr. Abbot walk in, some sense of unspecified relief washed over you. You were smiling even before you realised you had gravitated away from your seat and towards the usual spot where you met him.

It continued like that during the week. Things still felt normal after Monday. Or, at least, they hadn't changed. No awkward tension when your conversations trailed off. Neither a sudden apprehension from his side, cutting your usual small talk shorter and shorter.

As Friday rolled around, you realised it's been two consecutive work weeks where your mornings have been graced by the Doctor. A streak seemingly to continue as the door dutifully swung open that day as well.

"Hey there, Dr. Abbot." Like usual, he silently responds with eyes finding yours and a nod. During the short time you've known each other, you've learned that was usually his take on a greeting.

As you'd already prepared the machine, you only slid off your stool to start the brewing before returning to your previous position.

Dr. Abbot followed you as you did, cocking his head when rather than register his order, you pushed off your foot to reach the high seat of your stool.

As you nurse the cup in your hands, watching him watch you, he raises his card, giving it a questioning wave as if to remind you. You wave him off.

"It's on the house."

His brows pull together, his eyes narrowing quick and not by much, and his head tilts slowly. Somehow, you immediately know he considers the gesture spurred by pity.

The same unease from Monday threatened to return. You could already feel it in your chest. So, you hurried to say, "I thought about mentioning it earlier in the week already, but I didn't want you to think it was because of your late wife."

Dr. Abbot seemingly considers what you said, gauging you as he contemplates your offer or explanation.

The lingering feeling thought you hadn't dwelled on since Monday had, nevertheless, been something your unconsciousness chewed on. You realise it the second his lips quirk upwards and something akin to acceptance flashes in his eyes, considering it finally relaxed sometthing in your body you didn't know was holding on to that interaction.

"Your boss alright with that?"

One side of your mouth twitches a little higher. "Yeah, see it as a first-customer-of-the-day deal." His brows rise as he nods, pocketing his wallet again.

Yawning just as you're about to sip your drink again, you halt the movement in the air. You shake your head, as if it would speed up the deep inhale and wake you up.

"Tired?" You blink up at him.

"Bad night's sleep," you excuse with a smile. You're more sluggish than tired, brain not properly awake due having woken not long ago and from a sleep filled with tossing and turning.

"Know about it."

You study Dr. Abbot, who wasn't afraid to meet your gaze. Although nothing really pointed to it body-wise, there was a lingering shadow in his eyes. With what you'd learned about him, it could be from work or personal life. You made no move to dig any deeper.

"I can imagine with that schedule of yours," your jibe was light-hearted.

"My schedule's fine." Your brows raise, sending him a look.

"You go to bed at what-" You glance down at your watch and make an estimated calculation. "-9 A.M.? I don't think a single sane person considers that fine."

"Still get eight hours of sleep," he said, shrugging. You roll your eyes, humoured by the obvios look in his eyes revealing he knew his sleep-schedule was fucked.

"A black coffee can't possibly make it eight."

A smirk tugs at his lips at the remark. "Knock it down to seven."

"Jesus," you breathe out a chuckle, shaking your head. All the while, you smile at the banter.

At first glance, or even a second, Dr. Abbott wouldn't be most people's first choice to stop and ask for directions. But, despite his gruff expression, almost downward tilt of his mouth and heavy gaze carrying an aged seriousness, he was surprisingly easy to talk to.

You couldn't put your finger on why. Yet you found his rough voice still displayed his dry-witted humour perfectly, the shift in cadence as he talked usually implying more than his words. And though he wasn't big on expressions, his eyes were just as, if not more, expressive than his voice.

What you'd come to dub as not only lighting, but hazel eyes, conveyed everything his expression might not. And with the eye contact he wasn't afraid to keep, it was never too hard to gauge his otherwise stone-faced look.

You shake your head slightly, bringing yourself out of your thoughts.

When your attention flickers up again, you are met by Dr. Abbot already watching you. Reflexively, you give him a small smile over the rim of your cup, one he returns with the usual upwards twitch at the edge of his mouth. It was a minimal smile, but feeling how his gaze had softened, got warmer somehow, was enough to know it was a genuine reciprocity.

You glance away for a second, checking on his coffee. Just as you did, the red button turns off.

Putting down your drink, you were just about to move when the yellow stack of sticky notes you'd brought out upon arrival this morning caught your eye, re-routing your attention.

"Could I get your name, by the way?" You fish up the Sharpie from your apron, hovering over the stack of yellow-coloured papers. His brows swiftly rise, so you clarify. "For my colleagues to know they should fuel our regular coffee-addicted Doctor for free."

Both corners of his lips twitches upwards. "Jack."

"Jack," you repeat, smiling as you jot down his name along with his usual order and a free with a smiley face after. You stick it onto the counter's edge before heading to pour his coffee. "Would've already known if you didn't have such a knack for choosing times when no one else is here."

"Why?"

You answer his question by showing him the coffee cup you'd written his name on with the same pen. He released an amused huff of air.

"You also do that thing. Seems popular nowadays."

You laugh, the sound escaping you before you could dampen it into a chuckle. "That thing helps us remember who ordered what."

"Your way of charting, I suppose," he comments. "But, even we're ahead of you in digitalisation."

You glance over your shoulder as you put back the pot after filling his cup, seeing he'd crossed his arms with an amused expression, prominent in his eyes and the edge of his mouth.

"Tell me when they've got a solution for us, but I reckon our evolution will be as slow as yours."

That made him chuckle, chin dipping and eyes falling from yours. The sound was something gravelly yet pleasantly smooth from his chest.

With somewhat slower movements, you put the lid on his cup, knowing that as soon as you turned, your regular encounter with the Doctor reached its usual end.

"Have a good day now, Jack." Rather than put his coffee on the counter, you hold it out for him to take. His little finger brushes yours in the exchange.

Though he moved to the exit, half of his body was still turned your direction as he continued holding your gaze.

"I'm going to have a good day's sleep," he calls back, accentuating the last word.

"I'm seriously questioning the choice of your coffee now!"

He only raised the cup in a mock cheer before pushing the door open with his back.

Your head drops into a shake despite the laugh escaping you. That Dr. Jack Abbot had become a part of your daily routine was hard to ignore as you stared at the post-it note with his name on it.

#jack abbot x reader #dr abbot #jack abott x reader #jack abbot fanfic #dr jack abbot x reader #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #dr jack abbot #fanfic #jack abott fanfic #jack abbot #jack abott #the pitt fanfic #coffe on dark nights series #dr jack abbot x you #jack abbot the pitt #jack abbot x you #jack abbot series #hbo the pitt

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kwanisms · 8 months ago

Text

Kinktober 「10:14」 — j.wonwoo

» seventeen menu | wonwoo menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ vampire!Wonwoo × fem!Reader wc: 3.8k summary: Y/N has always avoided sex during her period in the past. Not because she found it gross but because her partners did. Wonwoo is different. Wonwoo loves it. Wonwoo also happens to be a vampire so he might be a bit biased. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, vampires, mentions of: food consumption, blood & blood consumption (vampire, remember?), periods and menstruation, vampiric powers & abilities; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i've already stated in the smut warnings but if blood bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. if period sex bothers you, DO NOT READ THIS. This is filthy, nasty, and i don't care lol i've done my part to warn those who don't want to see this. to those of you that do read this, i see you and i'm kissing ur forehead. wonwoo is a vampire, blood does no phase him at all. this is for my bestie Sky cause this is her main ult so, enjoy this, my love! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), bloodplay (if it makes you uncomfortable, LOOK AWAY. i’m not responsible for your media consumption. I’m warning you now. If anything to do with blood makes you uncomfortable, this fic is not for you!), period sex (again. Look away if you don’t like it.), oral (m receiving, f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms. Wonwoo doesn’t need to cause this ain’t twilight), use of pet names (darling, baby, etc.), soft dom!Wonwoo, sub!Reader, I think that’s everything but if I missed something, let me know! kinks: Bloodplay + period sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Aw darling, I almost believe you. ❜❜

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“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” your boyfriend asked over the phone. “All I have here are pads, chocolate, sliced pepperonis, and root beer. Do you need a heating pad or some pain relief?”

You let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against your pillows. “No,” you answered. “I have the heating pad and I’ve already taken enough ibuprofen to knock out a child,” you continued. “I just need those things.” Silence fell over you as you adjusted the heating pad that was tucked under your blanket.

“And maybe you,” you added in an undertone. You heard a deep chuckle on the other side of the phone. “Well, let me check out and then once I’m there, I’m all yours, baby,” Wonwoo answered. “Okay, please hurry,” you said as another cramp hit, a sharp pain deep in your abdomen making you wince and whimper in pain.

Wonwoo frowned as he heard you whimper. He hated seeing and hearing you in pain, it made his non beating heart hurt. “Can you open a window?” he asked as he headed towards the self checkout. “Yeah.. I think so. Why?” you asked, confusion in your voice.

“So I can just come in without bothering with the front door,” Wonwoo answered as he started to set his items down, scanning them while holding the phone to his ear. “Jeon Wonwoo, you are not flying into my open window on the twentieth story! You will use the lobby elevator like everyone else,” you scolded.

Wonwoo held back a laugh as a smirk crossed his face as he deposited his scanned items into a plastic bag. “Unless you want everyone to know you’re a vampire, I suggest you act like a person and walk through the front door like all guests do.” As he finished scanning, he tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder as he fished out his wallet.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he pulled out his card, holding it over the reader until the light blinked and the reader beeped. He slid the card back into his wallet, stuffing it back in his pocket as he grabbed his phone and bag, nodding towards the store attendant and making a move for the exit.

“I promise I will walk through the front door, use the elevator, and walk to your door like every other normal, boring human,” he whispered as he exited the shop onto the sidewalk. “Good,” you replied, sounding pleased. “Let yourself in,” you added quickly. “You know the code.”

The walk to your place was only ten minutes for him from the shop where he’d picked up the items you requested and then some. The thought of flying to your window and entering your apartment that way was even more appealing as he forced himself to walk the same pace as those around him. It would have saved so much time but he did promise.

The elevator ride up was slow but thankfully empty and when he reached your floor, he walked to your door at the end of the hall, punching in the code on the number pad which beeped and he let himself in, opening the door and shutting it behind him.

Your apartment was cool, mimicking the cool temperatures outside over the misty city. He walked further into the apartment after removing his shoes. He walked into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and unpacking the things he bought. As he put the bag away, he heard a small whine coming from your room. He walked down to your room in a split second and carefully pushed open the door, peering into the room.

The curtains had been drawn, leaving only a sliver of light coming into the room. The TV was on, some show you weren’t paying attention to playing in the background. On the middle of the bed, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a small mountain of plushies was a lump which he could correctly assume was you. He let himself into the room, crossing to the edge of your bed and removing his coat which he threw on the chair in the corner.

He gently climbed onto the bed, the movement making your body dip with the mattress.

You turned slowly, looking up at him, only your face visible from a small hole in your blanket burrito. Wonwoo let out a chuckle as he laid down behind you, sliding an arm under your entire body and pulled you back against him. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled but he could tell you felt anything but fine.

“Aw, darling,” he said softly, a hint of amusement to his voice. “I almost believe you.”

After a moment, he felt you shake your head no and he only tightened his grip. “It hurts,” you said in a broken voice. “I know,” he murmured, lifting his head and moving a hand to pull the blanket back to expose your head. “I know it hurts, baby,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “And you can’t take any more medicine?” You shook your head again.

“I’ve already taken so much. It’s just not working,” you cried softly. Wonwoo grimaced as your body jerked in pain, doubling over. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the back of your head. “No,” you answered, tucking your head into the blankets. Wonwoo chuckled as he sat up, pulling you into his lap so you were on your back, looking up at him.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat something,” he said, gently caressing your cheek. “Come on,” he said as he helped you sit up, unwrapping the blankets. You whined as the cool air hit your exposed skin. “You can wrap back up once you get off the bed,” Wonwoo said as he got to his feet, holding your blanket. You scrambled up to join him and he quickly wrapped the blanket around you, enveloping you in its warmth.

“I got all your favorites,” he said as he guided you to the door and down the hall to the living area. You climbed up into one of the stools at the island as he walked into the kitchen, turning on the overhead light. You looked at the spread with wide eyes. “You really went all out,” you said softly.

Wonwoo smiled, walking over to the sink and turning on the faucet to wash his hands. He then moved to open one of your cupboards, grabbing one of your pots, filling it with water and placing it on the stove, turning the burner on. “I was thinking army stew,” he said as he moved to the fridge, peering inside to see what you had, grabbing a package of tiny sausages, a couple eggs, some cheese, and veggies.

You watched as he worked, cutting veggies faster than your eyes could keep up. He added the soup base for the ramen as well as a few other sauce items before adding the sausages, some spam he found in the pantry, fishcake, and the veggies. As those boiled, he cracked the eggs, adding them to a bowl and whisking them with chopsticks.

He added the noodles, cheese and carefully poured the egg mixture in once the noodles softened and placed a lid over it. While it finished cooking, he opened the convenience store tteokbokki, adding the sauce packet and water before placing it in the microwave.

Once everything was done, he moved you to the table, setting up the hotplate before bringing over the pan of stew and setting it down on the hotplate. He finished setting the table, grabbing something to drink and set those down as well before sitting with you. He filled your bowl first before serving himself and you shook your head.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly. “I would have been fine with just some convenience store ramen.” Wonwoo smiled as you took a bite, eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the taste. “That right there is exactly why I did it,” he said, picking up a piece of spicy rice cake and eating it. “Seeing you happy and enjoying things makes it all worth it.”

After you had your fill and the pan was cleared, you indulged in some chocolate before returning to your room to watch some TV with Wonwoo, curled up into his side. The food had made you feel better but the cramps were back and you kept whining as every contraction made you press your face into your boyfriend’s chest.

Wonwoo kept one arm around you, holding you against him while he watched the TV screen. He wasn’t really paying attention, not when he could hear every little sound of pain you made, felt every time your heart rate kicked up or the jerk of your body as the pain became too unbearable for you.

“You know,” he said softly, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “Orgasms can help alleviate menstrual cramps.” You lifted your head to look at him through squinted eyes. “I’m just sayin’!” he said with a shrug. You buried your face in his chest again. “Isn’t that, like, gross though?” you asked, your voice muffled. “Is what gross?” Wonwoo asked.

You lifted your head. “Period sex. Aren’t most guys, like, grossed out by that?”

Wonwoo stared at you dumbfounded. Did you really just say that to him of all people?

“Babe,” he said softly. “I don’t know if you know this,” he started. “But I’m a vampire. Blood does not bother me in the slightest.” Your eyes widened comically. “Oh, right,” you said softly. “But like, that much blood? Wouldn’t that send you into a feeding frenzy or something?”

Wonwoo’s laughter resonated around the room as he threw his head back. “I’m not a shark! I’m a vampire,” he replied, chest bouncing as he laughed. “I can control myself a lot more than you think. Vampires aren’t animals. We don’t smell blood and just go feral,” he continued.

Your cheeks burned as he dispelled your assumptions and you suddenly felt very bad about judging him in that regard. “Sorry,” you said softly. Wonwoo pressed a kiss to your forehead. “For what?” he asked. “Unless you’ve dated other vampires, I don’t think that’s something you would rightfully know. I’m not upset, baby. It’s just a silly notion that movies and television have instilled in the populace.”

Silence fell over the two of you, only the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. “I’d like to help,” he said suddenly. “I’d like to help you feel better and if giving you an orgasm helps, I’m not gonna complain.” Your cheeks burned as you processed his words. “Won’t it get messy?” you asked, your voice meek. Wonwoo kissed the top of your head before getting up and disappearing for a moment.

When he returned, it was with a few of your old red towels. Ones you’d stained in the past when dying your hair at home. “I’m sure you won’t mind if these get stained?” he asked. You shook your head, watching him move to set the towels on the bed before he disappeared again, quick as lightning. He returned with a container of wipes which he set on the bed side table.

“Up,” he said as he grabbed the towels. You scrambled up and watched as he placed the towels down, overlapping them. “Put your blanket over there so you don’t get blood on it,” he instructed, pointing to the chair in the corner. You did as he said and then turned back to face the bed. “C’mere,” he said, holding his hand out.

You walked around the bed, taking his hand, letting out a giggle as he pulled you against him, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a soft kiss. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded in response as his hands moved, sliding down to your hips and pulling you towards him as his lips met yours again, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

Your lips parted, moaning as you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, caressing your own tongue. His hands continued to roam up and down your body, squeezing your sides, the curve of your ass, cupping your chest. You could feel the heat starting to pool in your belly as you felt his semi-hard cock press against your stomach.

Wonwoo pulled back, breaking the kiss to turn you around to face the bed. His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass back against his growing erection with a groan. “Get on the bed,” he breathed, lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder.

You carefully climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself in the middle of the towels as your boyfriend removed his sweater and pants, leaving on his underwear and white tee as he crawled onto the bed. He pushed the hem of your shirt up, kissing your exposed stomach up towards your chest.

You let out a gasp as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple, his mouth claiming it as he teased the bud. You ran your fingers through his hair, head falling back against the pillows. Wonwoo pushed your shirt up past your chest, his hand stabbing and kneading your breast. He pulled away, tongue and lips repeating the same thing on your other nipple before he had you sit up so he could remove your top.

You laid back against the pillows as he kissed down your chest and stomach. He glanced up at you with dark eyes as he started to tug your shorts and underwear down, discarding them and spreading your legs. The smell of blood invaded his senses as he glanced down, seeing the small string of your tampon. He would deal with that later though.

“If you want me to stop at any point,” he said softly, looking up at you. “Just tell me.” You nodded as he lightly raked his nails up and down your thighs. “Nothing is off limits for me,” he explained. “Blood does not bother me, I’ve told you this.” You nodded once more, laying naked under his heated gaze.

You watched as he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. His red eyes studied you as he tossed it aside. Wordlessly, he leaned back over, licking the tips of his fingers before taking your lips in a searing kiss as his wet fingers pressed against your clit, immediately starting to work against it.

You moaned into his mouth as he rubbed slowly, lightly flicking and pinching your clit. Your arousal had started to pool, allowing his fingers to glide much smoother and faster. Tension started to build, heat rising in your body. Wonwoo pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “I’m going to remove this,” he said, fingers gently pulling on the string of your tampon. “Okay?”

You nodded, keeping your body relaxed as he started to pull slowly, removing the plug from your body. Once it was gone, he threw it in the waste bin between your bed and the side table. His fingers were back on you in an instant, rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your hips started to move, chasing his fingers. You felt his fingers move lower and lower until they slid inside your cunt. You let out a groan as he curled his fingers, keeping his eyes on your face as he moved slowly, pumping his fingers in and out of you, a soft and slight squelching noise making your cheeks burn.

“From now on,” Wonwoo said as he curled his fingers against your walls again. “Don’t wear tampons around me. Just wear pads.” You couldn’t respond as his fingers moved faster, coaxing your body closer and closer to an orgasm.

Just before you came, he stopped, pulling his fingers out of you. “Wonwoo!” you whined as he smirked at you. Looking up at him, you watched as he brought his blood covered fingers closer to his face. “Here,” you said, trying to grab the container of wipes but let out a gasp as he instead stuck his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue instead. “Wonwoo!” you admonished in total shock.

Wonwoo gave you a smile before he maneuvered down your body until his face was level with your cunt. You propped yourself up on your elbows. “No fucking way,” you said but your words fell short as you felt his tongue lick against your slit, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted your blood. The tip of his tongue dipped into your entrance before sliding up to your clit and you fell back against the bed with a moan as he started to lick, tease, and suck the sensitive nub.

The lewd slurping sounds, coupled with the fact that you were freely bleeding onto his tongue had your cheeks burning from embarrassment but you couldn’t deny it was also extremely erotic in a way. Your vampire boyfriend, who was not grossed out by blood, was more than willing to finger you, eat you out, and fuck you while you were on your period.

To say you hit the jackpot was an understatement.

Wonwoo felt the same way. Being allowed to taste you during this time of the month that you normally kept private from him was intoxicating and he knew that this would become your new normal routine.

You let out a whine as your orgasm drew closer and closer, back arching off the towels as Wonwoo flattened his tongue against your clit. Your hips tried to move, chasing the feeling of his tongue against you but he held you down, instead suckling on your clit until you finally came with a moan of his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

Wonwoo continued to lap slowly at your cunt until you shuddered, tugging gently on his hair and breathlessly begging him to stop. He pulled back and you stared in both shock and awe as his blood covered lips as he licked them slowly, maintaining eye contact with you.

You moaned as you watched him lick as much of the blood from his face as he could until he grabbed the container of wipes, pulling one out and wiping the areas of his face he couldn’t reach. He tossed the used tissue away and quickly removed his underwear, pushing the fabric down until his cock sprang free. He kicked them off the rest of the way before moving between your thighs.

“You don’t have to – hng!” you let out a moan as he pushed into your hole easily, the blood and your arousal mixing together to create the best possible lubricant. Any spasming and muscle contractions your uterus had been in the process of making ceased as his cock filled your cunt in one motion.

Wonwoo didn’t even need to give you time to adjust as your walls welcomed his cock instantly. He started to rut into you immediately, hips giving you a few testing thrusts before he really set into a hard and heavy pace. “F-fuck,” you gasped, nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips against yours.

“Feel good?” Wonwoo asked in a deep voice, a hint of amusement in his tone. You nodded eagerly, eyes rolling back as he started to pound into you, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with an undertone of his cock entering your wet cunt.

“I knew it would,” Wonwoo breathed as he grabbed your thigh, pushing it up so he could angle his thrusts to hit the soft gummy spot that had you crying out in pleasure. He didn’t give a damn if your neighbors complained. He loved it when you screamed for him. When he made you feel so good that you cried out in pleasure.

“We’re doing this every time you’re on your period,” he grunted with effort as he slammed into you. “Gonna fuck you every night if I have to just to keep the cramps away.” Your fingers curled into his hair as you held onto him tighter, the leg that wasn’t being held up wrapping around his waist.

“Won-oo,” you mumbled, your grip on his hair tightening. “M’gonna cum.” Wonwoo pushed your thigh against your side, ramming into you, the tip of his cock barely brushing your cervix as he helped you chase your high, your own hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. “Fuck,” he growled. “Cum for me, baby. Show me out wet you can really get.”

You came immediately, crying out in pure bliss as your walls clenched around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm before chasing his own. His thrusts grew more erratic, wild and sloppy as your cum and blood mixed, making sloshing sounds as he frantically fucked you. “Ah shit,” he groaned, head burying into your shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You let out a cry of pain as you felt his sharp teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder as he came, sinking his entire cock into you as his load exploded, releasing a stream of thick milky cum into your bloody cunt. A mixture of the fluid spilled out of you, falling onto the towels under you as Wonwoo sucked from the fresh wound in your shoulder.

He pulled back, murmuring an apology as he licked over the holes created by his teeth. “That’ll heal,” he added as he moved to the other side of your neck, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him as he gave you a small couple thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you. “I’ll help you clean,” he added before you could complain about the mess. “Just let me stay like this for a bit.

Clean up was a lot easier than you expected. Wonwoo carried you to the shower, hopping in with you for a bit and helping you wash off, making sure to wash away any cum that spilled out of you. He then got out, drying off and dressing at lightning speed while you finished. He threw the soiled towels and sheets in the wash, placing new ones down before you got out of the shower.

As he requested, you didn’t put another tampon in, instead lining your panties with the pads he picked up for you as you dressed. You pulled on a sweatshirt and shorts, leaving your bra off. Something comfortable and easy for him to remove.

“You know,” he said as you settled on the bed next to him, wrapped up in the blankets and watching the TV at low volume.

“Just in case the cramps come back.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #mfu-net #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2024 #kinktober 2024

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mymindisneverhere · 1 month ago

Text

You Forgive Me?

Summary: Bianca is a stay at home wife who eventually gets tired of being home. However, planning a day out with the girls on Terry’s off day ends up causing a small disagreement. But Terry does what he can to make it up to her… happy wife, happy life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, a little angst, shower sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink. (Forgive me if I missed any.)

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. I haven’t written anything in a while but I hope you guys enjoy it! (If they won’t be together in real life, they'll be together in my world 🙃)

Bianca softly hummed along to the R&B music that played from the in-house speakers. The sweet melodies of Jodeci filled the home as she searched through the cabinets for seasoning. She was trying out a new recipe after flipping through pages of yet another new cookbook. A way to keep herself busy.

Rasta Pasta was on the menu tonight and although she’d had it a few times in the past, she wanted to try and prepare it herself. She was adding the last few touches to the meal when she heard the house alarm beep a few times, alerting her that her husband was finally home from work.

“Baby?” Terry called out to her from the front door.

“In the kitchen!” She yelled.

She lifted a finger to her iPad to lower the volume of the music then returned back to the stove without missing a beat.

Terry’s heart fluttered once he entered the kitchen. He could smell the savory aroma as soon as he stepped foot inside of their home so he knew she was whipping up something good. However, the sight of her made him feel like he was experiencing her for the very first time all over again.

“Damn it smells good in here.” He said, placing his keys on the counter.

“Thank you.” Bianca smiled, still stirring the sauce for the pasta.

Hugging her from behind, Terry placed a small kiss in the crook of her neck. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She giggled a bit, mostly from the feeling of his goatee against her skin. The fact that she was so ticklish didn’t help her at all. The feeling of the thick hairs always caused her to wiggle more than she wanted to.

“Stop Terry, you’re gonna make me spill this food.” She laughed, trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp.

“Whatever.” He placed one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. “How long before it’s ready?”

“About 10 minutes.” She replied, reaching up to grab two plates from the cabinet.

“Cool, I’m about to go shower,” Terry started. “and my plate better be on the table with a strong drink next to it when I get back.” He finished, smacking her ass as hard as he could before hurrying out of the kitchen.

“You better hope I don’t put something in that damn drink!” Bianca yelled, rubbing her left cheek hoping it’ll help the sting fade faster. “He plays so damn much.”

While Terry showered, Bianca went ahead and set the table. She placed both plates down onto the glass table that sat in the window of the kitchen. Since it was only two of them she figured they’d eat at the smaller table instead of the larger one in the formal dining room.

She sat the plates right in front of the chairs that faced each other. Quickly making her way back over to the cabinets, she grabbed a short drinking glass for Terry and wine glass for herself.

Terry was a simple man all the way down to how he preferred his drinks.

“Two shots of Jack, a splash of ginger ale and a lime.” Bianca recited to herself, as if she didn’t have his favorite drink down to a science.

She poured herself a tall glass of white wine, one that had been gifted to her from her best friend. Grabbing both glasses, she carefully walked herself over to the table and placed both drinks down just in time for Terry to return.

“I know you’re down here, I smell your body wash.” Bianca said, not bothering to turn to fully acknowledge him.

“I was just admiring you, that's all. I can’t do that?” Terry walked over to the table and pulled her chair out, signaling for her to have a seat.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

The couple sat down and began sharing the details of their day with one another. As usual Terry said a mouthful. Everyday was a busy one for him, from creating the perfect blueprints to consulting with contractors to hiring constructions workers. The only downtown he was guaranteed was at home with his wife.

However Jamie’s answer was always the same. After being married for just a year, she realized that being a stay at home wife wasn’t what she expected. They had no children so the house was always empty when he was gone. In the beginning she’d find herself constantly renovating their home and gardening to give their lawn a beautiful look.

But after a while everyday started to repeat itself. Spending over three hours on the phone with her best friends who had finally convinced her that she needed more hobbies, she agreed. Staying at home and cleaning all day just to wait until her husband got home was gonna be the death of her. So she booked a few classes with her girls and hoped that this would be the start of a new life for her… one outside of just being Terry’s wife.

“I have a workout class in the morning and then I’m going out to brunch with the girls.” Bianca responded, taking a sip of wine. “I might do a little shopping at Michael’s afterwards, I think I wanna get into crafting.”

Terry looked up at her a bit disappointed. “But I’m off tomorrow, I want you to stay home with me.”

“I don’t wanna be home though T.” She started. “Plus I won’t be out all day. I’ve been home all week and I’m getting tired of walking around this big ass house looking for something to do all day.”

“I’ll be here though so it’s not like you’ll be bored.” Terry said, trying his best to get her to change her plans. “I already had plans for you to be here so you can just do the workout class and then come back home.”

Bianca looked up at him in disbelief. He nonchalantly returned back to his food. It was as if what he said was final. There was no way she was hearing him right. After everything she’d just told him, he was still insisting on her spending most of her day in the house, again.

“I’m not changing my plans. You’ll see me when I’m done hanging with the girls.” Her tone was nothing less than stern.

Terry’s eyes looked up to find hers already on his. They had a short stare down that seemed to last longer than it did.

“I had my mind set, B.” He stated, taking a long pause in between saying her nickname.

“Well no one told you to plan my day for me, T.” Bianca stated, slightly mocking him.

He sat back, slightly frowning. “I’m not planning your day, I just want you here while I’m here.”

“I already told you I’ll be here once I’m done with everything and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore please. It’s ruining dinner.” Bianca said, stabbing her fork into her plate.

Terry continued staring at her, shifting his gaze back and forth between her and her plate. He really wasn’t trying to piss her off but he did want his wife home with him on his first day off in a while.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” The sound of her fork dropping into her plate caused his head to jerk back. She stood up and began to walk away from the table but Terry caught her arm.

“Wait baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” He pleaded with her, grabbing her hand to pull her toward him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be here when you’re finished having your day out. No complaints, nothing.”

The hold he had on her caused Bianca to lean against him unwillingly. She kept her gaze forward, avoiding his eyes as best as she could. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to forgive him so quickly. It always took a while for emotions to pass and Terry knew this.

“Okay.” Was all she could say at the moment.

He placed a kiss on her shoulder before asking, “Can you sit back down and finish eating dinner with me please?”

Bianca stood from his grasp and walked back over to her chair. She picked her fork up and twirled it a bit, still not completely over their conversation. Terry tried his hardest to change the subject, get her to laugh, ask her questions about her shows she watched throughout the day. But Bianca was still pretty annoyed, answering him with the shortest answers and the driest tone she could muster up.

Next day

“When are you gonna answer the phone?” Francesca, one of Bianca’s best friends asked as they slowly walked down each aisle of the craft store.

“When I get ready.” Bianca’s phone rang twice every hour and buzzed even more. Terry was trying to do his usual check up on her, just to see if she was okay. However, Bianca was still in her feelings about last night.

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop being mad at him but girl he just wanted you with him. If he didn’t love you, he would’ve been pushing your ass out the door!” Francesca said, reaching up to grab a bundle of fake roses.

“It’s not that, Ches,” Bianca started. “It’s the fact that he tried to blow off the plans I had for myself because he wanted the day to go his way. I told him how much I was getting tired of being home everyday and that I finally found some things I wanted to try. You know, to keep myself busy.’

‘He pretty much was just like ‘well you can do one of those things but fuck the rest’.”

Francesca stopped walking and stared blankly at her friend. “He did not say that.”

“Well in so many words he did.” Bianca rolled her eyes.

“Did he apologize, B?”

“Yeah but...” Bianca trailed off.

“But?”

“I’m still mad at him so I don’t care.” Bianca said, lifting her phone. “And look, he’s not even calling anymore so he doesn’t care either.”

“That man has to have the patience of a damn disciple to deal with your stubborn ass.” Francesca said, continuing to walk down the aisle.

“Whatever.”

Bianca pulled into the driveway of her home and noticed Terry out in the yard. He was down on one knee, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pulled chunks of dirt from the ground. He was dressed in a white tank top and denim overalls which automatically told her…

“I know he is not fucking with my plants.” She mumbled to herself.

So caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed him stand to his feet and walk toward her car. She immediately sat back in her seat and pretended to look for something in her purse.

*Knock Knock*

Bianca’s head turned to her window to see Terry leaning down a bit. Pushing the button on the door, she cracked the window and tilted her head to the side.

“What?” She asked.

Terry just stared at her with raised brows. He knew she was trying her hardest to stay mad at him which was why he refused to match her energy.

“I saw you staring at me when I pulled in, why you acting like you didn’t see me coming?”

“I didn’t.” She lied.

“Unlock the door.” He said, standing up straight.

“No.”

“Bianca stop playing and unlock the damn door.”

Another stare down, only this time Terry hadn’t looked away which meant he wasn’t walking away from the car until she did what he asked her to do.

*Click*

The sound of the car doors unlocking at once caused Terry to pull the door open. Peeking his head into the car, he looked in the back seat only to find a few shopping bags and a yoga mat.

“You still mad at me?” He asked, turning his head to face her.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Okay so why’d you ask?” She said, cocking her head to the side.

Terry chuckled, trying to ignore the smart remark.

“Do you want me to be mad?” Her brows lifted a bit, hoping she’d get the answer she wanted.

“No Bianca.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“I’m frowning because it’s hot out here.” Terry responded. “And because I didn’t see my credit card in my wallet this morning but I see bags in the backseat. You took my card to go shopping?”

“Duh.” She said, before pressing the button to shut off her engine. “Can I get out of the car please?”

Terry took a few steps back as Bianca stepped out of the car, pushing the door back purposely to make Terry step back even further. She opened the back door and grabbed her things before slamming it shut. Terry stood there still holding onto the driver's door as if she was about to get back in the car.

“You wanna have a staring contest or you gonna close my door?”

Terry chuckled again, this time looking off to the side as he pushed the door shut. She was testing him and she was doing it on purpose. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he looked back down at her and motioned for her to hand him the bags.

Bianca lifted them to his hands and dropped them before stepping around him to walk into the house. Right as she reached the front door she looked down at her plant bed.

“Why are you pulling up my plants?” She asked, frowning a bit from the sunlight.

“I was pulling up the weeds, I didn’t touch your plants.” Terry responded.

Bianca rolled her eyes, not bothering to say thank you. He was clearly doing her a favor, a way to try and get back in her good graces. But stubborn is as stubborn does. She walked into the house and made her way to the kitchen.

“I brought you some food from Texas Roadhouse if you want it. It’s in one of those bags.” Bianca dryly stated, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Thank you baby.” He placed the bags onto the counter and walked over to her. He stood there waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“What?” She eyed him up and down.

“Can I have a hug?”

“No. You’re sweaty and you stink!” She replied, taking a step away from him.

“You love me unconditionally though, right?” Terry said, grabbing her and hugging her anyways.

“Terry stop! You get on my nerves!” Bianca put her hands up to his chest, pushing him as hard as she could but he didn’t budge.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.”

“Get off of me!” Bianca yelled.

“Say it.” Terry smiled, laying his head on her shoulder to rub more of his sweat on her.

“I love you now move!”

He released her, laughing at the face she was making as she wiped his sweat off. She tightened the top on her water bottle and threw it at him, cursing him for playing too much yet again.

------------------------------------------

Bianca walked into their bathroom with a towel draped over her arm. Not noticing Terry in the conjoined closet, she turned the knob and stood back as she waited for the water to pour from the shower head.

When she turned around she met Terry’s gaze, that same smirk from earlier across his face.

“I need to shower.” She said dryly.

“You just wanna shower with me.” He said, walking out of the closet with nothing but his briefs on.

“Boy please.”

Bianca looked down briefly before returning her eyes to his. She tried to act as if she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants but the breath that caught in her throat gave her away. He licked his lips as he used his thumbs to push down his shorts, never breaking their gaze.

With a swift motion, his dick sprang out. Only semi hard but still a sight to see nonetheless. Bianca rolled her eyes as she brushed him off, trying her hardest to keep her eyes leveled with his.

Terry stepped into the shower, reaching for the knob on the far left and turning it up so the water would run hot. He stood just an inch under the shower head, as he let the water flow down his body. He chuckled to himself knowing Bianca was watching him.

Unapologetically, she was. Trailing her eyes down the length of his back to his tight ass. She was trying so hard to stay in her feelings but she wanted him inside of her as soon as possible.

Not wasting any more time or water, she quickly tossed her workout clothes to the floor and stepped under the shower head to the far right. The two of them stood quietly, only the soothing sounds of water splashing filled the room.

Bianca closed her eyes, appreciating the warm water that soothed her. Her hands danced around her body. Running her fingers over her stomach, down to her thighs and back up to her chest. She was so caught up in her own trance that she didn’t notice Terry stepping away from his side of the shower.

Planting a kiss on the nape of her neck, he gripped her waist gently. Bianca’s eyes snapped open, almost forgetting she wasn’t alone in the bathroom.

“Terry, you're still dirty.” She said, only verbally protesting.

“I‘ve been in here longer than you.” He said in a low tone, still placing kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders.

“I don’t smell soap.”

Terry ignored her and continued kissing her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m not even clean yet.” She stated, still trying to stop him… barely.

“A little salt never hurt nobody.” His tongue ran across her shoulder, sending a quick chill down her spine. Terry never gave a damn about her being sweaty or even hairy. If he wanted it, he was gonna take it however it came. A man.

Eventually her head fell back, allowing him more access to wherever he wanted to lick and kiss.

His hand traveled down in between her legs while the other toyed with her nipple. Her hands followed his, rubbing his forearms while her eyes slowly closed. Steam traveled past the glass doors as his fingers slipped in between her lower lips. Dipping his middle finger slightly into her hole, he used her juices to tease her clit.

Terry’s lips never left her neck. He knew they couldn’t be too long because her hair would eventually begin to revert which meant more maintenance for her. So he purposely tended to her spots, heightening her arousal. Her hips fell into a rhythm with his fingers, rolling them as her ass pressed against his now rock hard dick. The friction from her ass against his length made him let out a deep moan.

“Fuck me.” She breathed bluntly, two words he was waiting to hear.

Without thought he walked her forward a bit, until her palms hit the wall. He reached down and gripped his dick, positioning it right in between her legs. He thrusted his hips a few times, using her pussy to wet his tip. Pulling back a bit, he pressed against her opening and entered her without any resistance.

Bianca’s back arched, trying to position herself so that she could feel every inch of him. He instantly gripped her hips and pumped in and out of her. Loud sounds of her ass slapping against his skin echoed throughout the bathroom. The water continued to run down Terry’s back as he rammed her, chasing his much needed nut. Her cheek pressed against the wall, eyes rolling into her head while she chewed her bottom lip.

Terry had never been a minute man but he was always a considerate man… sometimes too damn considerate. She knew how much her husband loved being inside of her and she loved feeling him slide in and out of her. He was thrusting into her with so much passion but she didn’t want him to cum so soon.

“Slow down baby, not yet.” She moaned.

“But your hair...” Terry said, never ceasing his movement.

“I don’t care about that, I wanna feel you.” And he knew exactly what she meant.

Always following her orders, he slowed up. Pulling his hips back until he could slightly see the head of his dick, he pushed back into her slowly. He kept his strokes long and deep, waiting to hear her hum of approval. She licked her lips, smirking a bit from the feeling of his thick dick filling her walls.

“Yeah, like that daddy.” A blend of a whine and moan as she closed her eyes.

He tilited his head to the side to watch her face as he fucked her. He bit his lip watching her expressions change, slapping her ass a few times just to hear her hiss from the pain. He looked down to watch the length of his dick gradually become coated in her cream. He quietly cursed to himself before placing his gaze on her again. Watching her bottom lip slip from her teeth, her eyebrows curled upward and when her jaw dropped he knew what was next.

“Yesssss, oh fuuuuuck.” She cried as she felt her orgasm build.

His pace increased, pounding her and gripping her hips tighter. His ass cheeks clenched with every pump in an effort to get an even deeper dig into her.

“Cum on that dick baby.” Terry said, licking his lips as he watched his dick go in and out.

She called out his name a few times, eyes rolling into her head as her orgasm strengthened. She tapped the wall a few times hoping he’d let up just enough for her to catch her breath but he didn’t. The feeling of the tip of his dick pressing against her cervix caused her to bring her body forward, trying to run from him. She’d inch her body closer to the wall and he’d take a step forward right along with her.

Bianca lifted onto her tiptoes a bit, cursing again and again until he finally pulled out with another hard slap to her ass.

She let out a deep breath, licking her parched lips and dragging her hands down the wall.

“Come here.” Terry pulled on her hips causing her to face him.

Without warning she was lifted off of her feet, her arms naturally wrapped around his neck while his arms snaked beneath her thighs. Gripping her ass, he lifted her just enough then lowered her down onto his dick. He watched her face closely as her eyes rolled closed. Lifting her up and down effortlessly, he grunted as he felt her tighten around his dick.

“Relax baby, I got you.” He said. He could feel her grip on his neck loosen just a bit. Her bun eventually fell into a ponytail that bounced up and down along with her. Dropping his eyes down to watch her titties bounce as well, he slammed her down onto his dick over and over again.

“Fuck daddy, yes!” She yelled, gripping the back of his neck tighter than before.

Her nails dug into his skin but the pain went unnoticed. He was so focused on the mess she was making, the white mess that was settling at the base of his dick.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She chanted with every thrust. The sounds of her whining as she came wouldn’t allow him to let up until she was damn near begging him to. He could feel her grip loosen again which let him know that she was getting ready to tap out.

Terry pressed her back against the wall, placing his palms flat on the tile. With her knees pinned to her sides, there was no room for her to wiggle or run from him this time. Finally lifting his eyes back to hers, he pushed his hips forward, digging into her as he studied her expression… it was his favorite part of fucking her.

Her brows were lifted a bit and her eyes were low. She hadn’t quite bounced back from her second climax but that was a good thing for Terry. Keeping his momentum, he wanted her to remain slightly out of it. Her moans were always music to his ears when she was like this, so raw and unfiltered. She whimpered and whined, trying to speak but forgetting her words. Her mouth sat slightly open as her eyes met his. The soft green irises stared at her so intensely, she damn near wanted to break eye contact.

“You still mad at me?” He asked, never changing his pace.

“No…” She cooed with a stuttered exhale.

“You forgive me?”

“Yes!” She moaned, nodding her head.

“Yeah?” He nodded along with her. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you daddy, I forgive you!”

He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, kissing her while she repeated herself like a broken record.

She was cumming again, this time unable to hold on to him which was fine because he didn’t plan on dropping her. The gushy sounds of her pussy seeping was turning him feral. She could feel him biting at her jaw, moaning as he fucked her without remorse.

Her eyes finally opened, landing on the mirror that had lost its fog long ago. She watched his ass tighten with every thrust, the amount of stamina this man had was beyond her. The muscles in his back flexed as he kept her pinned tightly against the wall.

His head lowered to the crook of her neck where he continued to nibble at her skin. The growl that escaped his lips let her know that he was close.

Able to come to her senses for a split second, she encouraged him in the best way she could.

“You gonna cum in my pussy daddy?”

A shuttered moan left his lips. He was ready to fold and although she’d witnessed it a hundred times in the past, she never got tired of it.

“Fill this pussy up baby.”

“Oh shit.” He moaned.

Bianca’s eyes were locked on him in the mirror. The visual of his body flexing over and over again as he fucked her had Bianca thanking God for that damn mirror.

Bianca turned her head slightly and dipped her tongue into his ear. Still staring at their reflection in the mirror, she smirked to herself as she watched his hips twitch.

“Fuck!” Loudly escaped his lips through gritted teeth as he locked his hips in place, pressing himself against her body as closely as he could. She could feel his dick twitch inside of her as cum oozed from his tip.

“Mmmmm.” She hummed in satisfaction, loving the feeling of his warm seed inside of her.

Bianca’s walls contracted out of habit which caused Terry to pull his now sensitive dick out of her. He reached down to turn the shower knob, cutting the water off completely but still keeping Bianca pinned. The only sound in the bathroom was their breathing, loud and heavy.

Bianca placed kisses on his neck, rubbing the back of his head as he caught his breath. Silent curses left his lips as his shoulders lifted and dropped in pattern with his breathing.

“We have to shower now, baby.” She said, still kissing him.

“I wanna go to bed.” Terry mumbled, head still buried in the crook of her neck.

“After you shower.” She tapped his shoulder, signaling to put her down on the ground.

Carefully removing his arms from under her legs, he placed her down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Still struggling to catch his breath, he dropped his head back down to her shoulder. He was damn near dropping all of his weight onto her.

“Terry.” She said, trying to get him to stand up straight.

“Give me five minutes.”

Bianca kissed her teeth, giggling at his sudden exhaustion. Reaching behind him, she turned the middle knob that controlled the waterfall shower hanging directly above them. The water rained down on the two. Snatching the rubber bands out of her hair, she left the waterfall directly onto the top of her head down to her feet.

‘Fuck this ponytail.’ She thought.

The two lovebirds spent the rest of the time bathing one another and cleansing each other's hair.

Finally stepping out of the shower to prepare for bed, they both threw on their night time clothes. After lathering her body with lotion, she walked into her bedroom to ask Terry if he wanted her to heat his food.

When she heard the sound of soft snores she smiled, amazed at how tired he really was. Laying flat on his back with an arm thrown above his head, the other across his chest, he didn’t even get a chance to tuck himself in.

Pussy put him to sleep… I guess.

(They water bill bout to be high as hell… Please excuse any mistakes. 🩵)

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black fem reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc

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