#Oh boi he is exited in there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonjxsung · 11 months

Text

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?�� Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

#stray kids #skz smut #Lee Minho #Lee know #stray kids hard hours #Lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #request #requests open #Spotify

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chosok-amo · 18 days

Text

JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS

RYOMEN SUKUNA . . . your boyfriend got jealous because some underclassmen were helping you carry your bag.

warning. collage boyfriend! ryomen sukuna, cūnnilingus, mat-pressing, squirting, pet-names, established relationship, cum-play, biting, fingering.

wc. 11,3k

you walk towards the big tree near the field where your best friends and boyfriend, ryomen sukuna, are hanging out with your friends— toji, gojo, geto and choso. as you approach, their heads turn towards you, smiling brightly. It's not just you who catches their attention but also the two freshmen boys trailing behind you, each holding a bunch of paper bags.

“hey boys,” you call out in your honeyed voice as you arrive. “i brought something for you,” you announce, nodding to the two freshmen who quickly place the paper bags down on the grass. the bags are filled with snacks, drinks, and small gifts.

“thank you for being so kind to me,“ you say, turning to the freshmen and gently cupping their cheeks for a moment. they both turn crimson, clearly flustered and melting under your touch.

your boyfriend, ryomen sukuna, watches the scene with a mix of amusement and mild jealousy, smirking as he sees the two boys blushing and trying to keep their composure.

“you can go now,” you say, your tone soft yet commanding. like obedient puppies, they nod and quickly make their exit, casting one last longing glance at you before scurrying away.

as soon as the two boys scurried away, sukuna wasted no time in pulling you onto his lap, a possessive glint in his eyes. his strong arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer so that you're practically sitting on him. the others snicker, clearly amused by his display of possessiveness.

“and what's with the two boys, princess? the bag is too heavy you're afraid you're gonna break a nail?” toji makes fun of you. you roll your eyes playfully, a coy smile on your lips. “jealous, toji? need me to carry your bags for you too?” you tease. the others chuckle at your quick response. toji just rolled his eyes.

while toji teases you, sukuna tightens his grip around your waist possessively, his jealousy still very much present. he doesn't like seeing other boys looking at you like that, especially as if you're some eye candy. but he knows you belong to him, and he's going to make sure everyone else knows it too.

he grumbles under his breath about how the freshmen boys should've known better than to look at what's his, and how he's going to teach them a lesson if they ever thought about you again.

“well, there were quite a lot of snacks and drinks in there,” you reply, playfully defending yourself. “and besides, it's not like those boys were complaining when they were carrying the bags, were they?” you added , still trying to justify your actions. toji raises his hands in mock surrender, “hey, i'm just asking a question, sweetheart.”

as toji raises his hands in fake surrender, sukuna rolls his eyes at your attempt to justify your actions. he knows you're right—the boys weren't complaining about carrying the bags, but that's not the point.

he huffs, pulling you even closer to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you like a vice grip. “yeah, yeah,” he says, irritation clear in his voice, “but they were eating you up with their eyes.”

“oh, shut up, you big baby,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile. your fingers softly pinching sukuna's arm. “they offered to carry it for me, and they seemed eager to do it, so why not?” gojo grins, joining in on the teasing. “yeah, the princess can't handle carrying a few bags by herself. she needs her loyal subjects to do it for her!”

sukuna grumbles further, his irritation growing as gojo joins in on the teasing. he scowls, shooting a glare at gojo before wrapping his arms even tighter around you, as if trying to shield you from their mockery.

“she doesn't need anyone,” he mutters under his breath. “and she certainly doesn't need some simpering freshman boys drooling all over her.”

toji barks out a laugh. “yeah, suku, why not just put a leash on her so no one else can touch her?”

“hey, i'm not a dog,” you roll your eyes, playfully swatting at toji's arm as his words. “besides, it is easier for you to say, you're not the one who's carrying the bag, did you know how heavy it is? i can't do it by myself,” you added. you adjust your position to wrap your arms around sukuna's neck before speaking, “and besides, no girl should carry a heavy bag all by herself, don't you think baby?” you finished your words by looking at sukuna.

sukuna's irritation begins to soften as you wrap your arms around his neck and address him directly. he can't help but soften at your touch, and your question makes him huff out a sigh.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” he mutters, his arms still wrapped tight around your waist. he can't help but secretly like having you on his lap like this, like you belong to him. “i just don't like seeing other guys drooling all over you,” he grumbles, his jealousy still bubbling beneath the surface.

choso rolls his eyes, a cloud of smoke covering his face for a second before he adds, “oh, please y/n, you're just spoiled little princess, even those bag as heavy as the feather you still want people to carry it for you.”

sukuna chuckle, “she's a gentle soul, wouldn't want to trouble her delicate hands,” he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. toji merely snorts and rolls his eyes. “right,” he mutters, clearly not buying into sukuna's bullshit.

you pout, feigning indignation at choso's comment about you being a spoiled princess. “hey, i am NOT spoiled!” you protest, giving him a playful glare. “i just know how to appreciate good service when i see it.”

sukuna chuckles again, his hand idly tracing circles on your stomach, enjoying the feel of you being so close to him. toji rolls his eyes once more, a weary expression on his face.

“uh-huh... sure. keep telling yourself that, princess.”

sukuna grins at that, enjoying the banter between you and his friends. he can't help but savor the fact that they can all see how possessively he's clinging to you, how you're sitting on his lap like you belong there.

he tightens his grip on your waist even more, his hand resting on your hip as if to further claim his ownership of you. “yeah, she's spoiled all right," he mutters, "spoiled rotten.”

toji's eyes glint mischievously under his sunglasses as he glances at the two freshmen boys in the distance. they're standing a good distance away, whispering to each other and throwing furtive glances in your direction, their faces still flushed.

“they're still staring at you, princess,” toji comments with a smirk. sukuna glances in the direction of the two freshmen boys, his gaze hardening slightly as he notes their lingering gaze on you. his arm around you tightens possessively, a subtle warning to them.

“yeah, they look like desperate puppies waiting for scrap,” he sneers, his words dripping with disdain. choso and the others snicker, enjoying the show. “keep staring, i might break someone's neck today,” sukuna rumbled under his breath but loud enough for you and the rest to hear.

you roll your eyes at sukuna's protective and possessive attitude, but secretly you find it endearing. you're used to his jealous streak by now, but you can't help but enjoy the fact that he's so territorial about you.

you turn to toji, a playful grin on your face. “oh, come on toji,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal. “they're harmless. just a couple of boys with a crush, it's not a big deal.”

but you can't help but blush slightly at sukuna's possessive and slightly threatening tone, his hand gently tracing your waist as if to emphasize his claim over you. geto chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. choso rolls his eyes, clearly amused. satoru chimes in, “woah there, tiger. no need to go all alpha male on them.”

“relax, sukuna,” toji retorts, a smirk plastered across his face. “besides, it's not like the princess needs to do any heavy lifting anyways. not with all those boys practically tripping over themselves to do her bidding.”

“they're just some underclassmen from my class,” you explain with a shrug, “they offered to carry the bags for me on my way here.”

“oh? and you couldn't say no to them?” sukuna teases, his arms tightening around your waist possessively. you give sukuna a playful swat on the arm, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “oh, shut up," you say, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the smile on your face.

satoru grins, clearly enjoying the banter between you two. “yeah, suku, don't be a caveman. the princess is allowed to enjoy a little male attention, isn't she?”

sukuna's expression darkens as satoru teases him, his hand still possessively gripping your waist. he grumbles under his breath. “not from them, she isn't.”

you click your tongue as you turn to your boyfriend, “i just got my nails done? and besides carrying those bags alone from the parking lot and looking for you guys is a lot of work, don't wanna hurt my hands,” you pout while showing your boyfriend your new nails.

sukuna huffs out an amused chuckle, his gaze shifting to your painted fingernails. “ah, of course,” he feigns a dramatic tone. “can't have the princess straining her delicate fingers, can we?” he takes your hand in his, gently inspecting your newly painted nails with a smirk.

“they do look pretty,“ he concedes. “you're such a princess,” he teases, a smile tugging at his lips. “always worried about your pretty hands. but i wouldn't mind if you had asked me to carry those bags for you. you know, like a good boyfriend would.”

you give sukuna a cheeky grin, pretending to be offended by his comment. “are you calling yourself a bad boyfriend, then?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

toji rolls his eyes, scoffing under his breath. “jeez, you two are disgustingly cute together. get a room already.” choso lets out a low chuckle, and geto shakes his head. gojo grins, clearly amused by the whole situation.

sukuna's smirk widens as he looks at toji, his gaze dripping with arrogance. “jealous? can't handle seeing a display of affection between two people in love?” he retorts sarcastically. toji just snorts in response, seemingly not bothered.

“yeah, right. love. more like possessiveness. besides, i can't handle her, too delicate and too high-maintenance.”

“hey! I'm not high maintenance, it's hard getting an appointment for this nail salon, you know,” you are protesting, still pouting, “i mean you wouldn't know since you don't have a girlfriend, but okay,” you shrug your shoulder. toji feigns an offended gasp, clutching his chest in mock hurt.

“don't worry, princess,” sukuna says, his voice dripping with possessiveness. “i don't mind indulging your 'high-maintenance' habits. i'm the only one who gets to pamper you, after all.”

toji rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. “yeah, yeah, suku. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

gojo snickers, clearly enjoying toji's sarcastic comments. “oh, come on, toji. don't act like you're not secretly jealous watching them being all lovey-dovey.”

geto shakes his head, grinning at the whole exchange. “oh, leave him alone. he's just bitter because no one ever offers to carry his bags for him.” you just chuckle before standing up from sukuna's lap. “come on baby, let's get away from these losers,” you tell your boyfriend without giving a second glance at your friends.

sukuna doesn't hesitate, quickly getting to his feet and wrapping an arm around your waist possessively, pulling you close to him. he grins at your group of friends, a smug look on his face.

“you heard her," he says, his voice dripping with pride. "we're off to spend some quality time alone. try not to miss us too much, losers.” the others just scoff in response, some rolling their eyes, others shaking their heads in mock disappointment.

as you and sukuna make your way away from the group, you can hear their jeers and comments.

“yeah, sure. 'quality time.' as if that's not code for making out and being all gross and mushy together,” toji mutters.

“aww, they're gonna miss us so much,” satoru pipes up, feigning sadness. choso just grunts, while geto chimes in with a smirk. “yeah, right. i doubt we'll even notice their absence.”

as you and sukuna begin to walk away from your friends, his grip on your waist remains firm, his strides confident and possessive. he leads you away from the group, towards a parking spot . once you're out of earshot, he turns to you with a sly smile.

“so, tell me brat,” he says, his voice low and taunting. “enjoying all that attention from those underclassmen, were you?” you roll your eyes, but can't help but smile up at him. you know exactly what he's referring to, and you also know that this is his way of being possessive and protective of you.

“oh, please,” you say, feigning nonchalance, “they were just being polite, that's all.” sukuna let out a scoff, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “yeah, right. like they were just being ‘polite’ by offering to carry your bags and drooling all over you like puppies. they were practically ogling you.”

he pulls you closer to his side, his arm still wrapped possessively around you. he glances over at you, his gaze drifting to your newly done nails.

“but i have to admit, those nails do look pretty cute,” he says, raising your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “but next time, let me carry the bags for you. i don't like the way those dumb underclassmen were looking at you.”

you can't help but blush a little at his unexpected compliment. even though you know he's being possessive, there's something endearing about him liking your nails. you give him a small smile, playing along with his possessiveness, “thank you and don't worry, baby. i'll make sure to ask you next time. i wouldn't want your delicate ego getting bruised.”

he scoffs, a hint of amusement in his expression. “oh, don't worry about my ego, princess. i can handle a few smitten underclassmen staring after you. but it's my job to make sure they know their place.” he stops walking, suddenly turning to face you. he presses you against the side of his car, pinning you between the cool metal and his toned body. he leans in close, his eyes darkening with desire.

you feel a shiver run down your spine as sukuna pins you against his car. he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. “yeah?” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach. “and how do you plan on doing that, tough guy?”

he leans even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear. his breath is hot against your skin as he speaks, his voice low and gruff. “oh, i have a few ideas, princess,” he purrs, his hand tracing a path down your side to rest on your hip.

he pulls you even closer to him, pinning you even tighter against the car. he cups your chin with his other hand, tilting your head back so that you're looking up at him. he gazes down at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

you're smiling ear to ear, wrapping your arms happily around his neck as you look up to him. “like what?” you ask, voice low and sultry. he chuckles, the sound low and smooth. he gazes down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, “oh, princess, if i told you all of my ideas, i'd be here all night.”

his hand on your hip slides lower, slowly tracing the contour of your body until it rests on the curve of your ass. he gives you a slight squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.

his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he leans in closer, his lips mere inches from yours. he glances down at your mouth, his eyes filled with desire. “but trust me, i have all sorts of ways of making sure those stupid underclassmen know you're mine,” he whispers, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

you tear a low, softly hum the moment his thumb makes contact with your bottom lips, “i think everyone on campus already knows that, don't you think?” he smirks, enjoying the sound of your hum. he runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip again, tracing the curve of your mouth.

“oh, i know they do,” he replies, his voice low and smooth like honey. “but it never hurts to have a little reminder every now and then, doesn't it?” he leans in closer, his eyes locked on your mouth. he's so close now that you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

“yeah?” you mumble, eyes never leaving his red irises. your fingers trace a gentle path on his undercut. sukuna's eyelids flutter shut as your fingers trace over his undercut, a low rumble escaping his chest at your touch. he practically melts under your touch, his body tensing and then relaxing at your caress.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. “i want everyone to know you're mine. no one else gets to touch you, look at you, hell, even breathe the same air as you.”

you chuckle, shaking your head ever so, “you're so jealous. but that's a bit selfish, don't you think, baby?”

sukuna leans in even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear. “hmmm, maybe i am. but you don't mind, do you, princess?” he brushes his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin. he peppers light kisses along your jawline, his mouth skimming over your pulse point.

you shiver slightly at his touch, a smirk tugging at your lips. “who am i to be mind by my boyfriend's jealousy?” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as you whisper, “i like it when you get possessive.“

sukuna smirks against your skin, his kisses growing more intense as he hears your words. he lets out a low hum, reveling in the fact that you enjoy his jealousy.

he presses his body against yours, pinning you more firmly against the car. his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. “good,” he growls, his lips trailing up your neck towards your ear. “because i love getting possessive over you. you're mine and mine alone, princess.”

you let out a breathy laugh, feeling the heat of his words and the intensity of his touch. “maybe we should take this home,” you whisper back, your voice teasing yet full of desire. you lean into him, brushing your lips against his ear before continuing, “unless you want to risk someone seeing just how possessive you can get.” your hands slide up his chest, urging him to move, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

sukuna's lips curve into a devilish smile at your words. he knows exactly what you're getting at, and the thought of getting caught in the act only adds to the thrill.

he chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire. “oh, princess, you know me too well,” he purrs, his voice low and smooth, “but i wouldn't mind giving some nosy strangers a show.” he doesn't hesitate, quickly scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the passenger door.

he opens the door and gently sets you down on the leather seat, his eyes never leaving yours. a wicked smirk plays at his lips as he climbs in after you, shutting the door behind him.

he buckles you in, his hands lingering on the seatbelt for a moment longer than necessary. he takes a moment to appreciate the way your body looks in the dim light, biting his lip at the sight.

“you look so good, all strapped in and waiting for me,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. “let's go home, princess. i have some unfinished business with you, and i need some privacy for it,” sukuna mumbled. you chuckle, letting your hand hang in the air for a second to touch his cheek and giving his lips a peck.

sukuna let a low hum escaping his lips. he leans into your touch, his body responding instantly to your affection. he doesn't hesitate to start the car, the engine roaring to life as he peels out of the parking lot. his eyes stay focused on the road, but his hand finds its way to your thigh, his fingers tracing light circles on your skin.

he's silent for a moment, his thoughts consumed by the events of the day and the thought of being alone with you. as he drives, his grip on your thigh tightens slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh. he's impatient and eager to get you alone, and the longer the drive goes on, the more tense he becomes.

but he says nothing, his jaw clenching slightly as he focuses on the road. the only sound that can be heard in the car is the low hum of the engine and his deep, steady breaths.

the door slams shut behind you both as sukuna presses you against it, his lips moving hungrily against yours. his hands slide down your back, gripping your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, deepening the kiss. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer as your lips move in sync, the intensity between you two growing with each passing second.

he growls low in his throat, his impatience from the drive spilling over as he carries you to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. the darkness only heightens your senses as he lays you down, hovering over you, his breath hot against your skin.

“you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this, princess,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with possessive intent. sukuna's touch is both rough and gentle as he worships your body, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin. his lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

he bites and sucks at the skin of your collarbone, leaving small marks that he knows will be there tomorrow. his hands caress your curves, his fingers tracing over the fabric of your clothes as if impatient to get to the skin beneath.

he pauses for a moment, his hands gripping the hem of your shirt. he tugs at it, looking up at you with darkened eyes. “princess, i need these clothes off. now.”

he's barely got the words out before he's already yanking your top over your head, discarding it to the floor without a second thought. his lips immediately return to your skin, his mouth trailing a path down your chest. you're gasping for air softly, looking down at him with your hands on his hair. “r-ryo..” you whisper his name.

sukuna freezes at the sound of his name on your lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sound. he loves when you say his name like that, in that soft, breathless whisper. it makes his heart skip a beat, and his grip on you tightens slightly.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. “yeah, princess?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above your skin. “don't stop,” you pleaded, fingers knead with his pink locks.

sukuna smirks against your skin, his lips curving into a devilish grin. he loves how desperate you sound, how much you want him. it's a huge ego boost, and it only makes him more determined to drive you wild.

“don't worry, princess. i'm not stopping anytime soon,” he assures you, his voice rough and gravelly. he continues his assault on your skin, his lips and tongue worshiping every inch of you.

he slowly peels your clothes off you, his fingers caressing your skin with every piece of fabric that's removed. his mouth follows his hands, his lips trailing over your body like a starved man.

he takes his time, taking in every inch of you until you're completely bare before him. he looks up at you, his eyes raking over your body with a possessive desire. “you're so damn beautiful, princess,” he murmurs approvingly, his hands roaming over your curves.

you put your hands around your chest— put a shield on your bare breast away from his sigh and a crushed cherry makes its way to your cheeks. you put yourself on your elbows before leaning closer, trying to hide your shyness by kiss him.

sukuna notices your shyness, and he smirks at the sight. he knows it's part your natural shy nature and part your subconscious reaction to his compliment. he doesn't call you out on it, though. instead, he accepts your kiss, his lips moving against yours with a possessive intensity. he cups your chin in his hand, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply.

he can feel your hands on your chest, trying to hide from him, and he tsks softly. he gently pulls your hands away, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. “no hiding, princess,” he growls lowly. “i want to see all of you. every inch.”

he gently pushes you back down onto the bed, his body covering yours. he pins you down, his hands roaming over your skin as he looks down at you with his intense, possessive gaze.

you tug at his jacket, silently telling him to also take his clothes off. making the man standing on his knees between your legs start to peel his clothes one by one without leaving your gaze, slowly revealing his muscular, cover with his signature tattoos to you. sukuna smirks down at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he begins to strip. he slowly peals off his jacket, tossing it aside before unbuttoning his shirt. he lets the fabric hang open for a moment, giving you a glimpse of his toned torso before pulling it off entirely.

his hands go to his belt next, unbuckling it with a quick flick of his wrist. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. he steps out of his clothing, his cock standing proud and hard, throbbing with need. he grins down at you, enjoying the look of hunger in your eyes as they drink in the sight of him.

“like what you see, princess?” he teases, his voice thick with lust.

you shift slightly, straighten your position and back to prop your burning-with-desire body to catch a better look of your boyfriend. unconsciously, you biting your nail, smiling as you look at him with hunger. “handsome,” you mumble, voice low.

sukuna preens under your gaze, his ego swelling at your little compliment. he loves the way you look at him, the way your eyes rake over his body with such hungry desire.

he smirks at you, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “thank you, brat. you're not so bad yourself,” he replies, his voice low and smooth. he looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve and dip.

a satisfied hum vibrates out of your lips before you are leaning towards him while he still standing with his knees between your legs. closing the gap between your starving lips and his skin. your lips wander— giving sukuna an open-mouthed kisses on his abs while your nails digging invisible hole on his muscular thighs.

sukuna groans low in his throat as your lips make contact with his skin, your warm mouth sending shivers through him. his hands instinctively reach down to tangle in your hair, holding you close as you pepper his abs with open-mouthed kisses.

he can feel the slight pinch of your nails digging into his thighs, and it only serves to heighten his arousal. he's rock hard, his cock twitching with anticipation as he watches you worship his body.

“fuck, princess... keep doing that and i might not last long enough to fuck you properly,“ he warns, his voice strained with desire. despite the threat, he doesn't pull you away, content to let you explore his body to your heart's content.

he looks down at you, watching as your lips and tongue leave a trail of wet kisses over his abs, your nails leaving little indents in his skin. he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body responding to your touch with each passing second.

“fuck, princess,” he mumbles, his voice strained. “you're driving me insane.” you chuckle faintly, finding his struggling amusing. “you are so responsive, ryo..” you mumble on his abs before biting the skin in tiny.

sukuna lets out a low growl at the feeling of your teeth on his skin, his body tensing in response. he's struggling to maintain control, his hands twitching at his sides as he fights the urge to grab you and flip you over.

"you have no idea how much you're affecting me right now, princess," he replies, his voice low and ragged. "i'm trying to be patient, but you're making it damn difficult."

he's practically vibrating with tension, his entire body coiled tightly like a spring ready to snap. he's determined to let you have your way with him, to let you explore and worship his body to your heart's content.

but it's taking all of his willpower not to give in to the overwhelming desire that's surging through his veins, the desire to take you, to make you his over and over again.

“so hot,” you whisper, eyes never leaving his burning red irises. your tongue sticks down to his abs, leaving a trail of your saliva on his skin. sukuna groans loudly at the sensation of your tongue on his skin, his cock throbbing in response. he bites his lip to stifle another moan, his hands tightening in your hair.

"fuck, princess... you're going to kill me," he mutters, his voice laced with both pleasure and frustration. he can barely stand it anymore, the feeling of your tongue tracing patterns on his skin is driving him absolutely mad.

he finally decides to take matters into his own hands (or rather, his mouth). he leans down, capturing your nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. a soft moan tears away from your throat while sukuna's hands pushing your body against the pillows, letting you slightly sitting. “oh, baby,” you whisper.

sukuna smirks at your soft moan, his eyes darkening with desire. he continues to tease your nipples with his teeth and tongue, alternating between gentle nibbles and rough sucks. he pulls back after a few moments, looking up at you with a wicked grin. “you like that, princess? you like when i bite you?” he asks, his voice dripping with lust.

he moves lower then, trailing kisses down your stomach until he reaches your hips. he nuzzles against you affectionately before spreading your legs wide apart, exposing your wet pussy to his hungry gaze.

“yes..” you answer, a soft groan leaving along with your gasp the moment cold air kissing your already dripping pussy. your gaze meet with sukuna's hooded eyes and his smirk.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your breathless yes, his eyes glinting with mischief. he loves seeing you like this - spread out beneath him, desperate and wanting.

he takes a moment to admire the view, his gaze raking over your glistening folds hungrily. “you're so fucking perfect, princess,” he murmurs appreciatively. “i could stare at this pretty pussy all day.”

he leans in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. he inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent. “and you smell so good too... i bet you taste even better.”

“please, ryo..” softly, you pleaded, begging for his mercy.

sukuna smirks at your pleading, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you beg for more. “what do you want, princess?” he taunts, his fingers tracing and teasing circles around your clit. “tell me how badly you need my tongue on this sweet little cunt of yours.”

he leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “beg me for it,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let me hear you plead for my attention like the needy little slut you are.”

you huff a soft gasp when sukuna slightly pull you towards him and lift your legs on his shoulders, wrapped his tattoos and muscular arms around your thigh to keep you close. “ryo..” you calling him between your gasp, “please, need you— miss you so much,” you pleading. you haven't seen him for a month, and when you finally do, you get him between your legs, ready to eat you out to oblivion.

sukuna groans at your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing in anticipation. he's been craving you just as much, dreaming about having you writhing beneath him once again. "I've missed you too, princess," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "i've thought about this tight little pussy every single day we were apart."

his other hand moves lower, sliding between your slick folds to tease at your entrance. “but you know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder,” he continues, his tone dripping with seduction. “i think it's time we made up for lost time, don't you?”

he dives in then, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. he laps at you hungrily, savoring your addictive taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. his tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “fuck, you taste even better than i remembered,” he growls against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “i could feast on this pussy for hours...”

your soft moan drifting away along with your breath when you throw your head back the moment his tongue touches your clit. your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process.

sukuna moans deeply as your nails dig into his scalp, the mix of pain and pleasure only spurring him on further. he doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

his fingers join the fray, two digits plunging knuckle-deep into your soaked channel as he pumps them in and out at a rapid pace. he curls them just right, hitting that special spot inside you that has your toes curling in ecstasy.

“that's it, princess,” he croons, his voice muffled against your core. “let me hear those pretty sounds. i want the whole neighborhood to know who this pussy belongs to.” he scissors his fingers, stretching you deliciously as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

his words alone are enough to send sparks shooting through your veins. the thought of him stretching you open, filling you completely, sends a rush of heat pooling in your belly.

“oh god..” you whimpering breathlessly. your hand still clutch tightly around his hair while the other grasping the blanket underneath you, “feel so g-good, baby..”

sukuna grins against your pussy, his pride swelling at your praise. he loves knowing he can reduce you to such a state of desperation with just his mouth and fingers. “you like that, princess?” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as he sucks harder on your clit. “you like feeling stuffed full, stretched open for me?”

he adds a third finger, scissoring them even wider inside you as he curls them to hit that magic spot over and over. his tongue lashes at your clit mercilessly, driving you higher and higher.

“so close, aren't you?” he purrs, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “just let go, princess. come all over my face like the naughty girl you are.” your thigh shaking along with your breath the moment his finger keep poking your g-spot, making you crying for release. “o-oh—” you stammered, eyes tightly shut and your thigh unconsciously leaning towards each other, clamping down sukuna's head on the way.

sukuna hums in approval, loving the feel of your thighs clenching around his head. he keeps up his relentless assault on your clit, flicking it relentlessly with his tongue as he drives his fingers deeper into your quivering walls.

“that's it, princess,” he encourages, his voice vibrating against your pussy. “give it to me. show me how much you love my fingers fucing this tight little pussy.” he quickens his pace even more, pumping his fingers faster and curling them even deeper within you. the sound of your moaning fills the room, echoing off the walls and spurring him on.

with one final lick across your swollen clit, he pushes you over the edge. your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, ripping a scream from your throat as waves of pleasure wash over every inch of your being. the combination of sensations pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you tip over the edge.

with a loud cry, your back arches off the bed as your orgasm crashes over you. your inner walls clench around his pumping fingers as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through your body. “o-oh, god!” your high-pitched moan filling the room the moment you squirting on his face. tightly clenching his head between your thigh along with his fingers inside you.

sukuna groans in satisfaction as your juices flood his mouth, your thighs clamping down around his head like a vice. he doesn't let up though, continuing to lap at your pulsing walls and flick your clit as you ride out the intense waves of your climax. sukuna drinks in your sweet release eagerly, lapping up every drop of your juices as they coat his tongue. he doesn't stop until your orgasm subsides, until your trembling form is left limp and satisfied beneath him.

“that's it, come for me princess,” he coaxes, his fingers buried deep inside you as he helps work you through the aftershocks. “fuck, you taste so good when you squirt like that.” he slowly pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth to clean them off with relish. “i could watch you fall apart on my tongue all day,” he says with a wicked grin, licking his lips. “but i'm not done with you yet...“ he crawls up your trembling body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you let out a satisfied sigh when his lips touching yours. in an instant your arms found its way to his neck, pulling him closer until there is no gap between you and him. “i almost forgot how your tongue feels, we should never be apart like that ever again,” you murmur softly on his lips. sukuna chuckles lowly, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he settles himself between your spread thighs. “oh, i fully intend to make sure you never forget again,” he promises darkly, grinding his rock hard erection against your sensitive core.

he claims your lips in another heated kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. you can taste yourself on him, a heady reminder of the pleasure he just brought you to. “i'm going to fuck you so hard, princess,” he growls against your lips, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. “i'm going to fill this tight little cunt up until you're screaming my name.”

with one powerful thrust of his hips, he sheaths himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his thick length. he thrusts it inside you gently, reveling in the warmth and wetness that greets him. “i hope you're ready for more, baby, because i'm far from finished satisfying this insatiable appetite of mine...”

your body once again arch away from the bed towards sukuna. your warmth breath fanning across his ear with your nails scratching his back. a month away from your boyfriend and your pussy back to being unfamiliar with how big his cock are.

“f-fuck, since when you're became so big?” you mumble between your panting. sukuna lets out a low, pleased rumble as he continues to pump his hips, sinking deeper and deeper into your welcoming heat. “since I've been dreaming about this moment,” he confesses, nipping at your earlobe teasingly.

“ever since you left to your stupid vacation, i've been thinking about how good it would feel to be balls deep inside you again.” he punctuates his words with another hard thrust, his cock throbbing inside you. “and now that i am... fuck, princess... you're tighter than i remember.“

he starts moving with purposeful intent then, setting a punishing rhythm designed to drive both of you insane with pleasure. each stroke of his hips sends waves of bliss coursing through your bodies; each pull of his cock dragging moans from deep within your chest.

sukuna leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. his hands grip your hips hard, holding you in place as he fucks you with wild abandon.

"you take my cock so well, princess," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “so fucking perfect.” he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you, his red eyes blazing with lust and possession. “look at me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “watch me claim this pussy as mine.”

as you meet his intense stare, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more. “come for me again, princess,” he urges, his voice dripping with hunger. as sukuna picks up the pace, you can see the lust burning in his crimson eyes. they flicker dangerously as he watches you writhe beneath him, taking every inch of his massive dick with eagerness.

his hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements to meet his thrusts perfectly. with each stroke, he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of ecstasy racing up your spine. “oh, fuck me— ah!” you whimpering, your breath shattered each time sukuna thrust faster into you.

the sight of you writhing beneath him, your body slick with sweat and flush with arousal, fuels sukuna's lust even further. he grunts with satisfaction as he feels your walls clench around him, tightening deliciously with every thrust.

"fuck yes," he groans, slamming into you harder and faster. "take my cock, princess. milk it dry." his fingers find your clit again, rubbing it in tight circles that send sparks shooting through your veins. the sensation coupled with the relentless pounding of his cock has you teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"you're gonna cum for me again," he pants, leaning down to nip at your collarbone. "and then I'm gonna fill you up until you can't walk straight." his words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in your veins. you arch into him, desperate for more of his delicious friction. your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“please, baby!” you beg, your voice breaking on a sob, “harder! faster!”

sukuna snarls with pleasure at your plea, his thrusts growing even more erratic as he loses control. He buries himself deep inside you, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. "oh, fuck..." he curses, feeling his climax building rapidly. "i'm close, princess. so fucking close."

he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you with reckless abandon. his fingers work your clit mercilessly while he drives himself to the hilt over and over again. with a final, guttural groan, he tips over the edge. "here it comes!" he warns before spilling his hot seed deep within your quivering depths. Your walls clench around him greedily, milking him for everything he's worth.

“oh. my. god. .” you groan low in pleasure. your hands holding tightly to his shoulders. he stays buried deep inside you, his still-hard cock still twitching occasionally as the last remnants of your shared climax ebb away.

after a moment, he lifts his body to sit between your legs to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across his face. “always so beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. "you took every inch of me like a champ, princess.”

slowly he pull his cock out of your pussy, watch your cum and his dripping out to the bed. sukuna gently shove his two finger to scoop your cum back inside your pussy. he smile in satisfaction, “don't want it go wasted,” he murmur. sukuna watches as you relax in post-orgasmic bliss, your limbs sprawled out haphazardly and your skin glistening with sweat. a sense of satisfaction fills him, knowing he was able to give you such pleasure.

"that's it, princess," he murmurs encouragingly, watching as your belly firms up after the release of all those endorphins. "just lay back and enjoy the ride. we've got all night..." he moves lower then, kissing and nibbling along your inner thigh before pressing a tender kiss to the spot where his cock had just been. his tongue laps up the remaining evidence of your combined orgasms, cleaning you thoroughly before moving back up to lavish attention on your needy nipples.

"you're quite the little slut, aren't you?" he teases, pinching and rolling one of your hard peaks between his fingers. you open your eyes and chuckle hearing the words rolling out of his tongue. “i'm your little slut,” you murmur on his lips as you sit up straight. “those loser underclassmen don't stand a chance, do they?” you ask, remind him of his little jealousy at the underclassmen before.

sukuna smirks wickedly, enjoying the way you tease him. "they don't," he confirms with a possessive growl. "no one else gets to touch what belongs to me." his hand slides down to squeeze your ass cheek firmly. "especially not my tight little pussy," he adds, giving it a playful slap.

to prove his point, he rolls his hips against yours suggestively, letting you feel the renewed hardness of his cock. “see? this is what you do to me, princess. no other woman could get me this worked up.” leaning forward, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. As he pulls back slightly, he trails kisses down your neck before whispering against your skin. "now let's get you nice and ready for round two, shall we?"

his hand slips between your thighs again, fingers delving into your slick folds to start preparing you for his next conquest. sukuna smile, “let's have you on my lap and see if you still can take me fully,” he murmur. without a warning he scoop you from the bed and sitting you on his lap, your legs cage him in between. you gasp from the sudden movement before giggling, having sukuna mirroring you. your arms again found its own to wrap around sukuna's neck.

sukuna chuckles darkly as he positions you on his lap, his hands gripping your hips securely. "let's see how well you can handle me now, shall we?" with a swift tug, he lines up his throbbing cock with your entrance, teasing you with the tip before slowly sinking you down onto his impressive length. inch by thick inch disappears inside you, stretching you deliciously as you envelop him completely.

"fuck, you feel amazing," he groans, relishing the way your velvety walls hug his shaft. "ride me, princess. take what you need."

his hands guide your movements as you begin to bounce on his lap, setting a steady rhythm that has you both panting with pleasure. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, striking that magic spot inside you with every downward grind.

"that's it." the new angle makes his cook suffocating you, fill you up completely and have your eyes rolled back to your head for a second. “oh fuck, oh god!” you whisper as your breath hitched.

sukuna's eyes blaze with lust as he watches you struggle to breathe around his thick girth. "look at you, taking me so deep," he praises huskily, one hand coming up to cup your face. "such a good girl for me." the praise only serves to fuel his desire, and he begins to move beneath you with increased urgency. his hips snap upward to meet your downward strokes, driving his cock impossibly deeper with each powerful thrust.

"i'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he vows, nipping at your earlobe. "my cock will be the only thing you crave, the only thing that can satisfy you." as he speaks, his free hand slides between your bodies to rub at your clit, adding an extra layer of stimulation to the intense fucking. the dual sensations quickly push you toward another explosive climax.

your voice shaking as you hummed a protest the second he adds another pleasure with his hand. “o-oh,” your voice wavering while your forehead pressed against his neck. your fingers hug his wrist, a sign of your protest from the pleasure unconsciously.

sukuna feels your resistance but doesn't relent, continuing to stroke your sensitive clit in time with his relentless pounding. "shh, it's okay, princess," he coos, his breath hot against your ear. "just let go. I've got you."

emboldened by your submission, he increases the pressure on your clit, determined to bring you to the brink once more. his cock throbs inside you, signaling his own impending orgasm, but he focuses on pushing you first. "that's it, come for me," he urges, his voice a low rumble. "squeeze my dick with your tight cunt. show me how much you love being filled by me."

sukuna's words are your undoing, and with a keening cry, you shatter around him, your inner muscles clamping down on his pulsing cock like a vice. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around him, sukuna's control snaps. with a hoarse roar, he slams up into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release floods through him. spurt after spurt of hot cum paints your insides, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

“yes! fuck yes!” he roars, slamming into you one last time after finding his own release. for long moments, you remain locked together, riding out the aftershocks of your shared climax. finally, fukuna gently eases you off his lap, allowing you to collapse against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

sukuna holds you close as you both catch your breath, his heart pounding against your back. he presses a tender kiss to your temple, savoring the feeling of your naked body pressed so intimately against his. sukuna's breathing is heavy and ragged as he holds you close, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating in perfect time with yours.

he nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit your scent to memory. his hands roam over your body, his touch gentle and possessive as he worships you with his touch.

"you're mine," he murmurs, his voice a low, possessive growl. "all mine, princess. don't ever forget that." as your breathing steadies, he shifts slightly, maneuvering you both to lie down on the bed. he gathers you close, draping an arm across your waist possessively as you rest your head against his chest— draping you with a cover along with him.

sukuna holds you close, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you curl up against his chest. he pulls the covers up around you both, enveloping you in a warm, cozy cocoon. he lets out a satisfied sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into the bed. he's still buzzing with the aftermath of your intense encounter, but he's blissfully content just holding you in his arms like this.

he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a low murmur. "you okay, princess?" you lift your head from his chest, your eyes meeting his with a warm, affectionate gaze. a gentle smile curves your lips as you hum softly in response. “perfect,” you whisper, brushing a tender kiss against his chin.

sukuna's heart skips a beat at the feeling of your lips on his skin, and he can't help but smile in response to your answer. he loves seeing you like this, all soft and sleepy in his arms. he pulls you closer, if that's even possible, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back as he holds you. he's still running on adrenaline, but seeing you so content and relaxed is enough to start calming him down.

he brushes a kiss against your forehead, his voice gravelly and drowsy. "i love you," he murmurs, his words heavy with meaning.

you roll over to your stomach— prop your elbows for support, your smile softened as you look up at him. sukuna hide his hand behind underneath his head as he looks at your figure when resting your chin on your hands, you gaze into his eyes with affection. “i love you too,” you reply softly, your voice filled with warmth. you lean closer once again, gently pressing your lips against his lips.

sukuna's heart skips a beat again as you lean in to press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips. he can feel his whole body melting beneath your touch, his guard completely dropping as you express your love for him. he's still completely naked beneath the covers, but he doesn't care. he doesn't care about anything other than being close to you right now, feeling your soft skin against his and the sweet heat of your breath on his lips.

he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. you pull away before chuckling. the sweet, sweet sound of your little laugh puts a smile on sukuna's face. his thumbs gently sweep across your soft skin on your arm. the two of you just drowning in comfortable silence for a moment, far away behind all the intensity and sensual that filling the room before.

sukuna watches you closely as you pull away, his gaze soft and affectionate. he can't help but smile at the sound of your sweet laugh, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the comfortable silence.

he's soaking in the moment, drinking in the sight of your face so close to his, the feeling of your body pressed against his. it's moments like these that mean the most to him, when the world fades away and it's just the two of you.

he lifts his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. sukuna’s eyes shift from your face to your hands, a hint of concern crossing his features as he notices the broken nail. his voice softens, tinged with regret. “oh, baby, i must have broken your nail,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your hand.

he gently takes it on his own, examining now bare nail with a touch of amused. “i’m sorry about that,” he adds, his tone light, feeling everything except sorry for accidentally broking your extension nail. he noticed the extension of the nail near the pillow, picked it up and handed it to you— the nail that you've been waiting for a month for its appointment. “oh man,” you pout, your feature deepens with sadness, making the man chuckle.

sukuna's lips curl into a smirk at the sight of your pouting face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. he can't help but find it adorable when you pout, and it only makes him more fond of you. he watches as you take the broken nail extension from him, looking at it with a mixture of annoyance and sadness. he knows how much you've been looking forward to getting your nails done, but he can't help but find the situation a little bit funny.

he runs his hand through his hair, still chuckling softly.

you frown, hearing his chuckle, and your pout deepens. “baby, that’s not funny,” you protest, your voice carrying a hint of frustration mixed with your lingering sadness. you look up at him, trying to stay serious but finding it hard not to smile at his amused expression. “you really broke my nail,” you add, your tone balancing between exasperation and affection.

sukuna can't help but smirk at your protest, his amusement growing with every passing moment. he loves seeing you frustrated like this, even though he knows he should probably apologize. he shakes his head, his voice tinged with faux innocence. "i didn't mean to, brat. it was an accident," he replies, his tone playful.

he reaches out and gently brushes his finger over your lips, as if trying to soothe away your sadness. "don't pout like that," he murmurs. you look at him, still with your pouting lips and frowning in your forehead, “do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this? you know how hard it was to get this appointment and how much i paid?” you protest dramatically. groaning as you show him the broken nail.

sukuna stifles a chuckle at your dramatic groaning, knowing that he's definitely in trouble now. he looks at the broken nail in your hand, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a smirk keeps threatening to break through. he puts his hand on his chin as if contemplating, his tone teasing. "yeah, i know. you've been bitching about it for weeks," he replies, attempting to sound sincere.

he takes the broken nail from you, examining it with a faux look of concern. "i guess i got a little carried away in the moment," he adds, his voice dripping with fake apologeticess.

you smack his tattoos arm softly, “you are so annoying.”

sukuna lets out a low, amused chuckle at your soft smack on his arm, his smirk widening even further. he loves riling you up like this, seeing the way your cheeks flush with frustration and the adorable pout on your lips. he looks back down at the broken nail, his voice filled with mock sympathy. "well, i can't help it if i get a little passionate in the moment, princess. you know you bring out the best in me."

you can't help but smile at his words, “you better find me another appointment and you're going to be the one who's paying,” you scolded the man. sukuna raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. he can tell that you're trying to be serious, but he's not entirely convinced.

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "oh, is that right? and what if i don't?" he teases, his voice low and sultry.

you shrugged your shoulders and took the nail from his hand, trying to act nonchalant. “i can ask satoru to pay for me, he wouldn't mind spoiling me since my boyfriend didn't want to,” you jokingly said, making the man rolls his eyes, knowing how he hates that gojo and geto always spoiled you with the fact that they are your childhood friends.

sukuna's eyes narrow at the mention of satoru's name, a possessive flicker flashing across his expression. he doesn't like the idea of you spending time with those two, especially not when they're always showering you with gifts and attention.

he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him with a possessive grip. "oh, no, you don't," he growls, his voice edged with jealousy. "you're not going to him asking for anything. you're mine, and if you want your nail done, i'll do it myself."

you are laughing softly. “yeay,” you mumble before giving the man a peck. sukuna just groans and rolls his eyes but happily lets you kiss him. “you are a spoiled rotten, did you know that, brat?” he asked, voice dripping with affection as he lovingly caressed your head.

you can't help but laugh at his complaint, knowing full well that he loves pampering you just as much as you love being pampered. you lean into his touch, nuzzling into his hand as he caresses your head. "i know," you reply, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. "but you love me anyway, don't you?"

sukuna's expression softens, his irritation melting away in an instant. he can never stay mad at you for long, especially not when you're so damn adorable. he lets out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to sound exasperated, even though he secretly loves indulging your spoiled brattiness. "yeah," he replies, his voice filled with affectionate fondness.

he runs his fingers through your hair, gently caressing your head. "but i love indulging you, brat." you grin as you hear his response, knowing that he's secretly enjoying indulging your every whim. you love the way he tries to act all tough and dismissive, but he's always quick to give in to your requests. you lean into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running through your hair. you look up at him, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "you can't help but spoil me, can you?"

sukuna’s smirk widens as he hears your playful remark, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and amusement. he leans in slightly, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. “everyone around you always spoils you,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of mock seriousness.

“i can’t be the one who doesn’t give you everything you want. my pride couldn't take being a loser, especially for you,” his gaze softens, showing how much he values meeting your standards and keeping up with your expectations, even if it means letting his own pride take a backseat.

sukuna's words make your heart flutter in your chest, your smile growing wider at the hint of mockery in his tone. you know he's playing and enjoying every moment of this, but you can't help but be touched by his words. you reach up, gently twirling a strand of his hair around your finger as you look up at him. "aww, you're so sweet," you tease, unable to resist poking fun at his ego. "it's cute how much you care about not being a loser in my eyes."

sukuna chuckles at your playful jab, his eyes sparkling with mischief. he leans in closer, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek, gently caressing your skin with his thumb. "you little brat," he mutters, his tone affectionate despite the hint of scolding.

he loves this banter between the two of you, the way you can tease each other and still maintain the intense chemistry between you. he looks down at you, his voice turning slightly serious. "you know i'd do anything to keep you happy, right?"

“even if that means pampering me rotten?” you ask playfully, followed by scrunching your nose. sukuna lets out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be annoyed. "even if that means pampering you rotten," he affirms, rolling his eyes teasingly. he knows there's no way he's ever going to say no to indulging you, but he likes to play the part of the reluctant boyfriend for comedic effect. he gently pinches your nose between his fingers, a cheeky smile on his face. "you're such a damn brat, you know that?"

you nod with a playful grin, clearly enjoying his teasing. “i know,” you reply, your voice is light and teasing. you lean in closer, savoring the affectionate gesture and the cheeky smile on his face. sukuna's smile widens as you lean into his touch, his hand shifting from your nose to your chin, gently tilting your face up towards his. he holds your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and amusement.

he can't help but love how easy it is for the two of you to banter and tease each other like this. he lets out a low, affectionate growl, pulling you closer to him. "you're such a handful, you know that?" again, you nodded your head, “uh-uh.” your finger gently touching his face, tracing the tattoo in tender.

sukuna can't help but lean into your touch, his expression softening as you brush your finger over his tattoos. he loves the way you touch him, so gentle and affectionate. he watches you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. he gently captures your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. "you're going to be the death of me, brat," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

he pulls your hand down, still holding it in his own as he continues to look at you. his fingers interlace with yours, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.he can feel the tension between you slowly building, the air thick with a subtle hint of desire. but he doesn't rush it, instead he just savors the moment, enjoying the simple intimacy of being close to you.

“but you don't mind, hm?” you softly ask, resting your cheek on your palm while you are still lying in your stomach before him. “you love me too much for that,” you added. sukuna can't help but chuckle at your question, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection.

he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're damn right i do," he replies, his voice filled with pride and adoration. "and i wouldn't have it any other way." he leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours. "you've got me wrapped around your little finger, princess."

you raise your eyebrows, pretend to be questioning him. “yeah? or it is because i'm naked under your cover, in your bed?” you playfully ask him. sukuna lets out a low chuckle at your bold question, his eyes darkening with desire. he can't deny the effect you have on him, especially when you're laying there in his bed like that, completely naked under thecovers.

he leans in even closer, his lips nearly touching yours as he replies in a low, seductive murmur. "well, that definitely doesn’t hurt," he admits, his hand sliding slowly down your side. you chuckle as he wraps his arm around your waist and rolls you over until you are in your back with him on top of you. “oh, you are so dirty,” you tease him, hands kissing his cheeks.

sukuna grins at your playful comment, his body hovering over yours as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. he enjoys the way you tease him, the way your lips gently kiss his cheeks. it just makes him want you more. he chuckles again as he presses his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed. "only for you, princess," he teases back, his voice low and sultry.

you smile ear to ear before pulling the cover over both of you. ready to continue what was left and for round three. sukuna lets out a low chuckle as you pull the cover over the two of you, his arms wrapping around you and pressing you close to his body. he can feel the heat radiating off of you, the desire building between you once again. he leans in, his lips gently brushing against your neck, his voice low and sultry as he mumbles between kisses. "round three already, huh? you are such a greedy little thing."

#ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #anime smut #female reader #devider : by cafekitsune

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