anton initially came over to bake cookies with you. you'd been begging him for weeks to try out a new recipe you were eyeing, and he finally gave in.
the kitchen is cozy, yet messy. warm lighting spills from the ceiling lamp, flour already dusted across the counter, and the air smells like vanilla extract and cookie dough.
oh, and the sound of anton pecking you every two minutes fills the room.
β "okay, now we add the butter.."you mumble, transferring the bowl of melted butter to your bowl of dry ingredients. you feel a wet kiss land on your neck, and anton's hands are still glued to your waist from behind, fingers gently gripping the skin under your hoodie.
he plants a few more kisses on your neck, turning slightly so he can trail them along your jaw, to your cheek, and eventually, your lips.
β "anton, i can't see what 'm-doing!" you whine in between kisses, your view blocked by his messy dark hair.
β "my bad, princess, "he sarcastically says, faking a pout as he offers to help you whisk the wet and dry ingredients.
β "okay, now we can add the chocolate chips!" you cheer, wasting no time tearing open the bag of milky-sweet chocolate chips and dumping them into the mixture.
he tugs you closer by your waist again, his lips pressing sweetly on yours. you give him a playfully annoyed look-one that says stop annoying me but don't actually stop.
β "what, baby? can't kiss my girlfriend anymore?" he teases, hands trailing down from your waist to lightly squeeze the flesh of your ass. he hums into the kiss, and a soft whimper slips from your lips, your hands hooking around his neck.
β "at least help me finish this..." you mumble, pulling away. he rolls his eyes dramatically, but still helps you mold the dough into soft circles and line them up on the tray.
he sneaks a few chocolate chips, popping them in his mouth with zero shame.
β "can't you wait, hae? stop eating them!" you giggle, slapping his arm before placing the cookies in the oven.
β "can i have you now?" he sighs, as if his hands hadn't been on you the entire time. you throw your head back with a laugh, mumbling a fond little "yes."
the entire fifteen minutes waiting for the cookies to bake is spent tangled in each other. haechan has you propped up on the counter, his hands resting on your hips while yours loop around his shoulders. your soft lips move against his plump ones, savouring the sweet taste of his mouth.
ding. the timer goes off, the cookies now ready, but when you try to get down, his large hands hold your hips in place.
β "wait angel, want you..." he murmurs, lips crashing into yours again as his hands reach up to thread his fingers through your soft hair.
β "anton, do you want the cookies to burn?" you scold, caught off guard by using his full name. he falters for a second before smirking.
β "what if i want them to? more time for us to make out," he says smugly. your jaw drops as you slap his chest.
β "anton!"
your baking sessions with anton were always your favorite-not just because you got to make something sweet, but because he never could keep his hands off you. and that's what you found sweet.