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messiahb0lical · 17 days ago

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room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part I

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I (you are here) | PART II

[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 18.3K (out of 40K maybe)

CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.

NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻‍♀️

"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz

"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï

“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”

Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.

He was leaving you.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”

“That does not make it any better!”

Mark Lee was leaving you.

Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.

The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.

The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.

Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.

Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.

In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.

Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process.

Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?

Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.

And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.

Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?

If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.

No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.

That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.

From: [email protected] Subject the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol.doc

Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?

To: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc

yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.

From: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games

This is literally just a blank document?

To: [email protected] Subject: the roommate games

Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal

Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.

By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.

Mark (ER): I found someone Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?

You: no lol

Mark (ER): lol Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?

You: ur not really giving me much to work with You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason

Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin

You: 😟 You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?

Mark (ER): correct Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁

You: wait what’s my 70% then?

Mark (ER): insane

You: die

“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.

Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.

The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.

Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.

You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.

Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept.

The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”

“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”

At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.

“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”

“That’s all you can say?”

“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”

Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”

Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”

The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.

Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.

Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it.

And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.

Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.

Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.

When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them.

Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.

Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.

Being unapologetically insane was one of them.

One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.

Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.

The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.

It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.

You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.

Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.

It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.

A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.

And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.

Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements.

Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.

A Taurus man.

Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.

He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security.

He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.

At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.

“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”

An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.

“Oh, before I go.”

You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag.

“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.

Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.

Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.

Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)

The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.

He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.

He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.

It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.

Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.

“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”

And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.

Jesus.

You: I think I just saw a god

Mark (ER): lol? 😆 Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno

You: i literally just said i think i saw a god

Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.

Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates.

Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:

You.

II.

“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.”

Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.

Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.

It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.

He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.

That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.

So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.

“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“

Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“

“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”

“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."

As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”

You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”

He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”

“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”

Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.

Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.

“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”

Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.

Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.

“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.

“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”

You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.

“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”

And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?

You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.

Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.

He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.

“You’re more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”

“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again.

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.

And anger.

Especially anger.

There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

You skidded to a stop, stunned.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress.

Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head.

You wanted to scream.

This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.

(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”

You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”

“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).

And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.

Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.

Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.

Now, preferably.

Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.

“What the fuck.”

Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—

Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.

He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.

“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”

It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?

“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”

“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”

He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?”

You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.

He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”

“Excuse me?”

If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.

“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”

Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.

If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.

“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?”

It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

“That’s—I was joking!”

You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”

This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.

Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.

And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.

Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.

Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.

You definitely wouldn’t.

The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.

All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.

“Anywhere but here.”

Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.

Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.

Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.

Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.

Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.

Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.

A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.

You didn’t.

Fuck.

III.

“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”

“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”

“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”

Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”

You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.

“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”

Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?

Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.

(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”

“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).

Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.

“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.

“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”

That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.

Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”

You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.

“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”

How did he even know that?

“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”

“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”

“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”

Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”

Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.

“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.”

“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.

This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.

“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”

“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”

Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”

Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’

“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”

“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”

“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”

Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.

Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”

Which was farthest from the truth, actually.

Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.

All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.

While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.

The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from.

Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.

“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”

“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”

“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”

“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.”

Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.

“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”

“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”

Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.

“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.

Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.

Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.

You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.

“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.

“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”

And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.

Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—

“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.

“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”

“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”

“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“

Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.

Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.

He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.

“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”

This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.

Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.

You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.

Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.

“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”

Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.

God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.

Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.

The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.

You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”

“Huh?”

Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.

Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.

The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.

It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.

Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.

Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.

Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.

Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”

You groaned, “oh here we go.”

“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”

This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.

You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”

Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”

And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.

There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.

Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself.

But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.

That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?”

You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.

It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.

Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.

“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.

“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”

Jeno’s smile widened.

If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.

Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.

Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.

Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit.

He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.

When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.

Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.

You wanted to die.

“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”

“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”

“Jeno.”

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.

You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”

Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.

“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”

“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?”

So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.

“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.

He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”

Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.

You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”

Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.

He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.

But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.

At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.

“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”

“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”

The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.

This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.

“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.

It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego.

Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?

There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.

You looked away, face hotter than it was before.

Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.

“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.

“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.

So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.

“Ugh—fuck you.”

“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”

You scoffed, “corny.”

Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.

“Any time now.”

Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.

“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”

That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”

“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh! Well that’s one way.”

Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.

It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?

The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.

“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.

“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”

“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”

Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”

“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”

You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.

“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.

Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.

“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”

You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”

Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”

Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.

You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.

Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.

Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.

There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.

“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”

Well.

You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.

It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.

Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.

“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”

You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.

Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.

Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.

The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.

It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.

“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”

“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.

Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess

Click.

Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”

He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”

You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.

“I think I’m going to die.”

Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.

“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”

With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”

There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“How does a bath sound?”

You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.

Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.

“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.

“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”

“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.

“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”

Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.

“Define… forgive.”

For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”

His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“

“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.

Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.

Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED????? Hyuck: WITHOUT ME??? Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭

Jaemin: OR ME??? Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼

Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔

Jaemin: 👀

Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.

Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.

This was not your room.

With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.

All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.

Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.

And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.

What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.

Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.

This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?

You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.

Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.

After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.

Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.

“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”

From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.

“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”

“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”

“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”

He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”

You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”

“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.

That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.

“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.

The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”

“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I got you the first time.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.

This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.

What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.

Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.

You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.

I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.

Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.

“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.

Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”

He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet Mark (ER): ..hellooooo Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟

You: no? tf

Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or

You: 👍🏼👍🏼

Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀 Mark (ER): are u bffs now ??? Mark (ER): i was here first btw

You: go bother ur gf omg??????

a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3

bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox

#I adore this? 🤣#writer conveys my simp aggression towards him bc how is someone so stupidly fucking adorable also that hot? 😤#mans like a paradox #lee jeno smut

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messiahb0lical · 28 days ago

Text

Chapter 1: Big Ego, Slightly Bigger Bank Account

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee has a hard time trusting others, and when his mother ropes you into a favor, he makes it clear that he doesn't like you one bit. After a few tense run-ins, Chanhee realizes that he needs your help to get his...persistent ex-girlfriend off his back. The problem? You're not exactly in a forgiving mood. But for his mother's sake, you're willing to play along— just this once.

GENRE: Angst, fluff

PAIRING: Choi Chanhee x fem!reader

WC: ~8k

THE BOYZ Masterlist EWO(TYRA) Masterlist

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie @captain-brie

FIC TAGLIST: @sanaxo-o @from-izzy

WARNINGS: Chanhee's mom is kinda weird, for the sake of the plot his parents own a shoe store, chanhee openly mocks the reader's social status, stalker accusations, mentions of toxic and somewhat abusive relationships, swearing, Changmin playing peace keeper, chanhee is actually a total douche he is like the entire warning the warning is just CHANHEE, mentions of blood and bodily injuries but very brief

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: I'm not late I was just edging you (totally definitely wasn't at a birthday dinner)

Her eyes burning into the side of your head is all you can think about. Dark, determined eyes that haven’t left your figure since you’d stepped onto the train. You’re sure you look a mess— hair falling out of the bun you’d carefully pinned up at the crack of dawn, mascara smudged from rubbing at your eyes repeatedly, shirt untucked from your skirt and entirely unflattering on your body, feet shifting uncomfortably in the well-worn heels you’d worn practically every day since starting your job in Seoul two years ago. Maybe she’s judging you. People like to do that.

It’s starting to bother you, however, and you can’t seem to distract yourself hard enough from how she stares almost unblinkingly. You’ve tried to distract yourself by staring out the window, putting on your headphones and blasting music, playing game after game of Sudoku on your nearly dead phone, but nothing seems to work.

You huff, your body sagging a bit as you finally cave and look at the woman, expecting her to be where she had been for the entire twenty-minute train ride so far.

She’s not, and you’re becoming more confused by the minute. I could’ve sworn she was right—

“Jesus fu—” you cut yourself off, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your yelp when the woman appears directly to your left, that same determined look in her eyes but now with a bit of…is that…is that mischief? You aren’t sure, but it’s creeping you the hell out. Heads turn to look at you, but you shoot them a look that tells them to mind their own business. Nosy bitches. “Can I help you?”

The woman clicks her tongue. “Let me look at you.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Let me look at you,” she repeats and grabs you by the arms to turn you fully toward her.

“What is your problem?” You try to pull away from her, but for such a small woman she is incredibly strong, holding you in place as she looks you over once, twice, three times before humming. “Hey, ma’am, I don’t know what your problem is but—”

“I have a son your age, you know,” the woman interrupts with a charming smile. “He’s very handsome, very single.”

“That’s…great?” You shuffle away from her as best you can, which is quite difficult when there are dozens of people crowded into one subway car trying to get home.

“You’re single, aren’t you?”

“I—I mean—”

“What am I saying,” one of her hands slaps against her forehead. You look up, praying that the next stop is yours. “Of course you are! Look at you, no ring, no light behind those eyes.”

Your eyes bug out of your head, your jaw dropping. What the fuck?

“I— who do you think you are?”

Her eyes meet yours briefly, the mischief overtaking the determination. The way she looks at you is unnerving, and you can only thank god that your stop is coming up next.

“I’m sorry, dear. I can be a bit too direct sometimes. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She squeezes your bicep and pulls back slightly as the doors open. You walk toward them. She follows you, and your eye twitches. “My husband always says it’s my biggest flaw.”

“There are worse flaws to have,” you dismiss, glancing around quickly to try to find a quick escape route. There is none, the crowd funnelling you and this woman toward the only exit to the station.

“You’re correct,” the woman smiles at you, her arm looping with yours like you were her child. “You look like a hard worker. My son would like that.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. He’s famous, you know. You might know him!”

“I don’t think I do,” you tell her, “I don’t keep up with media that much.”

“Ah, you like to disconnect?” She nods approvingly. Why are you letting this woman figure you out? Maybe you’ve been single for a bit too long if you’re letting a desperate mother try to set you up with her “rich, famous, handsome son who happens to be about your age.” She could be spewing total bullshit for all you know. Her son could be forty years old. She might not even have a son! “He would like that about you.”

“Do you…is there something I could help you with?” You turn to face her, stopping just outside of the train station and enduring the nasty comments you get about being in the way of everyone. “Is there a reason you keep bringing up your son?”

“My son has been horrifically single for a very long time,” the woman admits, tugging you along so you aren’t in anyones way. “His friends are all starting to date now that their company is allowing them to, but he’s been struggling. He’s very particular about the people he goes out with.”

The setting sun casts a warm glow over the two of you, and you squint when the light hits your eyes. “And that’s my problem because…”

“I think you would be exactly what he’s looking for.”

Oh?

You look down at her curiously. She’s looking straight ahead.

It’s another moment before you speak, the sounds of the city echoing around you but somehow they feel muffled in comparison to your conversation.

“You don’t even know me.”

She smiles.

“Oh, but I think my son might like to.”

Your heel catches on a crack in the pavement, and time seems to slow as you fall. The shoe fully comes off your foot, and pain shoots through your knees when you hit the ground. You don’t yelp or cry out. You barely make a sound save for the pained whimper you can’t catch. The woman practically cries for you, dropping to her knees next to you and shifting you so you’re not pressing the fresh wounds into the ground any longer. Your tights are ripped, slowly soaking in a thin layer of blood. Your palms are covered in scratches, not bleeding but raw and stinging.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking helplessly at the shoe that had come off your foot. The heel is completely detached, the leather torn and entirely impossible to fix at this point. “Shit.”

“Are you alright?” The woman holds your hands in her own, examining your palms and pulling a small packet of tissues out of her purse to help clean your knees a bit. “I’m so sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have distracted you—”

“It’s fine,” you tell her and take the tissue from her hand with a little smile. You’re dying inside, sure, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I promise, it’s all good. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one careless enough to not look where I was walking.”

She frets nonetheless, scolding herself and helping you stand. A smile, oh-so faint, crosses your lips. That boy, her son, is lucky to have her. Anyone would be lucky to have her in their lives— as a mother, a daughter, a sister, wife. You don’t know much about this woman, hell you don’t know shit about this woman, but your friends have always said you were good at reading people.

“Even still—”

“Ma’am,” you put your hand on her shoulder as both a reassurance and a stabilizer as you remove the destroyed shoes from your feet. The relief is immediate, as is the ache in your tendons from suddenly flattening your feet. “I promise you, you did nothing wrong. Thank you for helping me.”

She smiles back at you, kissing her teeth a bit at the sight of your heels. “You better have another pair of those at home.”

Your smile becomes a grimace and she gets her answer. Her forehead creases as she frowns again.

“How often do you wear these?”

You almost don’t answer her, too embarrassed. “Every day.”

“These are at least…” she examines the shoes— the leather wrapping them, the heel, the soles, everything. She looks like a professional. “These are at least from the spring of two years ago. They’re practically worn down to the nub. How are you still comfortably wearing these?”

“Just don’t have the time or money to get new ones, I suppose.” You shrug your shoulders, and her frown deepens. “It’s fine. I have, like, super glue at home that I can use and get them fixed.”

The woman gasps and clutches her chest as if you kicked a damn puppy, her eyes going wide and her jaw practically hitting the sidewalk.

“Absolutely not!” She holds the shoes close to her chest, ensuring that you won’t be able to grab them back from her. “You will never be wearing these godforsaken shoes again, not if I have anything to do with it!”

Your shoulders slump. “Then what am I supposed to wear for work?”

“My husband and I own a shop a few blocks from here. What time do you work tomorrow?”

“I don’t. Fridays are my day off.”

“Good,” she nods approvingly. “A good work week, hard worker— no, that’s not what we’re focusing on now. Come to our shop tomorrow morning, I’ll get you fitted with brand new shoes— two pairs, even. On the house.”

It’s your turn to gasp. “I— I couldn’t ask that! That’s your shop— your income! I could never take two pairs, let alone one without paying—”

“You forget that my son— again, your age— is famous. We won’t be missing much. We mostly keep the shop open to keep ourselves busy.” The woman (you still don’t know what her name is. It’s bothering you just a bit) beams at you. “Please. Let me do this for you. I can even introduce you to Chanhee.”

Ah, so that’s her son’s name.

You bite down on your tongue, thinking carefully about her offer. The shoes, not meeting her son.

“Let me pay for one pair at least,” you bargain. She goes to argue, but you hold up a hand to stop her. “One pair, or none at all. Take your pick.”

A smile laced with…—is that pride? You’re almost certain it’s pride— causes her lips to curl. “One pair of free shoes, and one paid for. Sounds like a deal to me.”

The sun has set and the street light above you flickers to life. There’s a bit of a breeze now, goosebumps rising on your arms.

“It’s dark out,” you murmur. “Let me walk you to your shop. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.”

The woman nods. “He’s been calling me since we got off the train.”

Silence for a moment, and then the air is filled with bubbles of laughter. You laugh until your cheeks hurt, until they feel as if they’ll be trapped in a permanent smile.

“I like you Missus…” you trail off, your feet padding lightly across the ground as you walk.

“Choi. Missus Choi,” Mrs. Choi finally tells you her name, and you almost hit the ground in relief. Why wasn’t that the first thing you asked? “And soon that’ll be your name, too.”

Chanhee deemed himself to be a lucky man. Loving parents, good friends, his dreams being achieved left and right at such a young age.

Yes, he certainly was lucky.

Most days, that is.

Today, unfortunately, it seemed his luck had run dry and likely went down the drain like most of his coffee. Or, perhaps, it went wherever Eric brought his only good umbrella, leaving him stuck with the shitty leaking umbrella. Or it was in the nearest trash bin alongside his favorite shoes having torn the sole clean off.

“I don’t understand how you managed to do any of that.” Changmin clicks his tongue, his head rolling back as Chanhee vents his frustrations. Only 8AM and Chanhee was already sick of this day. “The coffee I get, but the umbrella and your favorite shoes? Someone has to be out to get you, I fear.”

“Tell me about it,” Chanhee scoffs. “Honestly, I feel like it may have been Taeha.”

Jung Taeha, his most recent…ex of sorts. Chanhee had met her outside his parents’ shop which, in hindsight, should have been a bit of a sign for him. She’d been there, almost as if she was waiting for him, and introduced herself in a manner which was most definitely rehearsed.

My name is Jung Taeha, let’s go out for coffee some time!

A smarter version of him, in some other universe, would have spotted the red flags from miles away. Alas, this universe’s Choi Chanhee was dumb as a rock on occasion. On many occasions, in fact.

After six months of temper tantrums, his bank account being slowly chipped away, constant phone calls, and many attempts at dragging him away from work under the guise of “being lonely”, Chanhee finally snapped. Six weeks ago, he had broken things off as gently as he could. He couldn’t stand her, couldn’t stand how demanding she was.

This isn’t working out. Get your things and leave.

She’d destroyed his apartment on her way out. She threw lamps, knocked over tables and his dresser (a fact that still stunned him), broke plates, cut holes into his Gucci shirts. Chanhee wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if she had cut his shoes apart.

“You sure they weren’t salvageable?” Changmin asks, his hand wrapping around the handle of the little shoe shop on the outskirts of Seoul. “Maybe, like, buy some gorilla glue or something.” Chanhee’s jaw nearly hits the ground, his hand coming to press against his chest in dismay.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest something so…so…so…”

Chanhee stutters over his words, inevitably falling silent as he lets his eyes fall on a figure laughing with his mother. A woman, likely his age, gripping the seat she was in and tilting her head back as she laughed unabashedly. He could see the way her eyes wrinkled at the edges, a smile curling over her face and nearly reaching her ears.

The door Changmin had been holding open closes on Chanhee, forcing him to stumble forward and tripping the motion sensor above the door. A bell chimes and startles him out of the trance that had been placed on him.

“Chanhee!” His father beams, rounding the corner and clapping him on the back. “What are you doing here so early? Or at all, really. Shouldn’t you be at the studio? And you, Changmin. Shouldn’t you be there as well?”

Changmin rubs the back of his head sheepishly, tucking into his chest a bit.

“My shoes broke,” Chanhee says, mourning the loss of the sleek black Dior loafers. “I need to pick up a pair to hold me off for the rest of the week at minimum.”

His father hums, turning to look at where his mother had finally risen to her feet, the woman with her rising as well. Chanhee locked eyes with her, and noted how quickly she became red in the cheeks, turning her gaze to the ground. Great, he thought and kissed the back of his teeth, another stalker trying to get to me through my parents.

“I can help you in just a few minutes, darling.” His mother promised, grinning widely as she led the girl to the counter. “Now, Y/N dear, I know we discussed you paying for one pair rather than the two, but—”

“If you try to get me to pay for anything less than what we agreed on,” you say with a teasing lift in your voice, “I’ll walk out of here with nothing at all. Alright, Mrs. Choi?”

Chanhee quirks an eyebrow, his lip curling with disdain. So you’d hunted for his family, then?

“Dear,” his mom places a gentle hand over yours, “I can’t help it if suddenly there’s a deal on this particular brand that says you get a free pair with every pair of socks you buy.”

What?

You seem to echo Chanhee’s thoughts, hardly able to process what was happening before his mother had rung in the socks and marked both shoes as free, taking your card and swiping it. You jump forward, practically bending over the counter to try and grab her before she can finish processing your purchase.

“Mrs. Choi!” You exclaim defiantly. “I told you that I wanted to pay!”

“And you did,” Chanhee’s dad jumps in gleefully, “just not for what you expected.”

“You both are terrible!”

“What’s going on?” Chanhee finally jumps in, having enough of this interaction. He couldn’t fathom how his parents were just…letting you use them. “Who is this…girl?”

His lip curls, and you flinch. Good. Know who you’re messing with. Changmin jabs him in the side, shooting him a nasty look.

“Oh, Chanhee darling, this is Y/N!” His mother chirps, grinning and ignoring the clear attitude he was flooding the building with. “I met her last night on the train home!”

“And she’s here for…?”

“Shoes, clearly.” Changmin rolls his eyes. “God, Chanhee. You’re so dense sometimes.” Your shoulders sag with relief, but Chanhee hardly gives you time to breathe.

“Did you really have to manipulate my parents?” It goes so quiet that you could likely hear a pin drop from across the store.

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrow, your lips parting slightly with your confusion. Chanhee hates to admit it, but you play the part of the fool rather nicely.

“If you wanted to get my attention that badly,” his words are icy and Chanhee sees you curl in on yourself a bit more, “you should’ve just stalked the company. Why did you manipulate my parents into your little scheme?”

“What company?” The confusion on your face is so close to genuine that Chanhee is almost impressed.

“Choi Chanhee,” his mother hisses, taking a small step toward her son to knock some sense into him, but you stop her with a small motion of your shaking hand.

“Don’t act dumb,” Chanhee’s nose curls and you nearly bark out a laugh. “We both know you’re just here to score my number or something.”

Your whole body is trembling, not just your hand. Your body is shaking like a leaf, your lip quivering to hold back words that could make this situation far more embarrassing and hurtful than it already is for you. Chanhee sees the well of tears in your eyes and how you blink rapidly, tipping your head back or to the side in order to keep them at bay. In normal circumstances, he may have offered comfort, however he was far too aggravated to bother.

“Mrs. Choi, thank you so much for the shoes.” You finally tear your gaze away from Chanhee, pressing your hand into her arm. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Y/N, dear,” the woman starts, but you just shake your head.

“I think your son would prefer if I left. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” A meek smile, and you start to make your way to the door. Chanhee’s narrowed eyes are on you the whole time, his arms folded across his chest.

“It was nice meeting you!” Changmin calls out as you push the door open, grinning and waving like you’d been the best of friends. Something about that creates an irk in Chanhee, his teeth grinding together and his lips twisted into a scowl. You don’t turn around or do anything to respond to the man, just letting the bell chime above you as the door swings open. When it shuts again, there’s a tense silence between the four.

“Did you have to be so rude?” Chanhee’s father grunts, shifting behind the counter to organize a stack of gift cards and receipts. “She was a lovely girl.”

“She was stalking you guys!”

“She was not!” His mother snaps, shutting down any chance of him arguing with a nasty look that sends shivers down his spine. The last time he’d seen that look, she had been about to punish him for sneaking out in the middle of the night when he was fifteen years old. “If anything, I was basically stalking her.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” He can feel a headache coming on, his head tilting back with a heavy sigh.

“She has no idea who you are, Channie.”

“That’s bulls— that’s not true! Otherwise, she wouldn’t—” be here is what Chanhee wants to say, but he catches himself. “She wouldn’t have been so close to you if she didn’t!”

“I befriended her last night,” Mrs. Choi folds her arms across her chest, matching the attitude her son can’t seem to put away. “I met her on the train, thought she was pretty and sweet, and maybe good for you. I befriended her so I could introduce her to you, but she ended up falling and breaking her shoes because of me. I told her to come here today so I could get her some new ones—”

“What, she couldn’t afford to get her own?” Chanhee scoffs, and a newspaper hits the counter with a loud crack. He jumps, dipping his head at the nasty look his father gives him.

“Don’t interrupt your mother, Choi Chanhee.” Chanhee bites down on his tongue and Changmin clicks his tongue, expressing his clear disappointment in his friend.

“That girl has worked her tail off day and night in this godforsaken city just to hold onto the job that, quite honestly, she is too qualified for. She had been wearing the shoes I broke since she first moved to Seoul, and she told me she was going to glue them back together because she couldn’t afford it. Don’t you dare say anything about what people can afford, Choi Chanhee. You should know better.”

He can practically hear Changmin’s thoughts. He just knows that the man is laughing to himself, practically screaming oop, we got him! A small part of him feels guilty about the accusations he had senslessly thrown at you, but the larger part of him is too prideful to admit to his wrongs, forcing him to stand his ground even under the murderous look from his father and the disappointment from his mother.

“What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can apologize now. She’s already gone and we’ll probably never see her again.”

“Well,” Mr. Choi smiles coyly, “you better hope you find that girl again. Otherwise you’re cut off from family dinners.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “Like you guys would keep me away from family. Your whole thing is that family is the most important thing.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re joking.” Chanhee’s eyes bug out of his head when his brother blocks him from getting in the door.

“Sorry, dude,” Dongmin shrugs, seemingly apologetic but there’s nothing but pure mischief in his eyes. “Ma wasn’t kidding when she said you were barred from dinners until you found that girl and apologized.”

“She can’t be— ugh,” Chanhee groans loudly, stomping his foot on the stone steps below him. “How the does she expect me to find this girl and get her to accept an apology from me? I was a total jerk and I definitely don’t feel bad about it.”

Dongmin frowns. “That’s kinda shitty, Chanhee.”

“Well, it’s true! I was trying to protect my family from— from— ugh!”

“Chanhee,” Dongmin steps forward and purses his lips. “I get that your relationship with Taeha kinda ruined you and you still aren’t back from that, and we get it. We really do. But the thing is…not everyone is like that, and not everyone is out to use you and your rich boy credit card. Some people are just living their lives.”

“But I didn’t know that!”

“And that’s your problem.” Dongmin’s hands find his younger brother’s shoulders, shaking him gently as he speaks. “You just assume the worst in people now. I miss the old Chanhee who loved every stranger he met whether they knew who he was or not. Whatever,” Dongmin hesitates and scowls, “this version of Chanhee is, we don’t like him. Do whatever you have to do to fix it. Fuck, hang out with this girl once you find her. Take her on a date. Just…just fix this and yourself.”

For two days now, Chanhee had received reality check after reality check. The first had been from his father. The second from his mother. Then from his members, and now from his brother. Each one said the same. Fix your shit, we don’t want to put up with mopey bitch Chanhee anymore.

Well.

Not exactly that, but it was implied.

So, when the door shut in Chanhee’s face, he had no choice but to stomp back to the sleek black sedan he’d parked along the side of the road in front of their house. The neighborhood they lived in was quiet enough that he didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing him mutter profanities to himself.

The shoes Mrs. Choi had gifted you fit practically like a glove, far better than your previous pair and still more comfortable. No amount of thanks could truly show the older woman how grateful you were. You felt more at ease with the worry of your shoes finally breaking in the past.

Unfortunately, not all of your worries can be solved with a simple gift from a funny old woman.

No, some of your problems came in the form of that woman’s son, Choi Chanhee. The knowledge that he seemed to hate you more than anything in the world had scarred you. His words were imprinted into your brain like a tattoo, replaying over and over again throughout the next week.

Immediately after leaving the shoe shop that day, you’d googled his name and immediately felt your heart drop to your feet. She hadn’t been joking about her son being rich and famous. The more you think about it the more you wish you had never stepped foot onto that train, let alone into that shop.

“I can help whoever is next!”

The barista calling out from behind the register startles you out of your thoughts. There’s still about four people in front of you, each of them looking about as tired as you feel at 7:25AM. You drum your fingers against your purse, your skin making a quiet tapping noise against the cool leather.

“And here I thought I would be getting out of an apology.” A voice behind you makes you jump. It had been so quiet in the line, most people just wanting to get their coffee and be on their way. “Guess I’m not that lucky anymore.”

You turn your body around fully, taking in the face of the one person you’d been dreading seeing again.

Choi Chanhee stands behind you dressed in a white button-up shirt and slacks with a black mask covering most of his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes, however. They’d caught your attention while at the store— before they’d narrowed at you and filled with nothing but malice. They were soft. All of his features were soft and you can see why he’d become so popular. If his hatred wasn’t pointed at you, maybe you’d have grown to love him like his mother wanted.

“Do I know you?” This time you truly play the fool, wanting nothing to do with him if you can help it. His eyes roll, and he tosses his head a bit to move the short strands of black hair out of his face.

“Don’t play dumb this time. I know you know who I am now,” he scolds lightly. There’s a lightness in his voice now and you wonder if it’s because you’re in front of people who might know who he is.

“Sorry,” you mumble, toeing at the ground like a child who was about to get punished. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, me too.” Chanhee sighs, shifting slightly closer to you so he wouldn’t have to talk so loud. The less attention drawn to the two of you, the better, you supposed. You certainly don’t want to be in any of those damn tabloids. What a nightmare that would be to explain to your family. “Let’s get our coffee and talk somewhere else, alright?”

“I can help whoever is next!” You step up to the register, Chanhee a step behind you, and smile at the barista. Her eyes flash with recognition when she sees the celebrity, but she doesn’t say anything. “What can I get for you?”

“Medium iced latte, please,” you murmur and reach into your purse to pull out your wallet. Chanhee clears his throat and presses his hand against your arm to lightly push you to the side. You frown at him and open your mouth to speak but he’s faster than you.

“Add a medium americano to that order please.” The barista nods, her fingers moving quickly over the buttons. Most likely a symptom of her nerves.

“You’re—” the barista’s voice cracks and her face flushes red. You can’t help but smile. “You’re New, right? From The Boyz?” Chanhee smiles beneath his mask, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he does a total personality flip for this girl.

You watch the brief interaction, the smile still on your face as he talks animatedly with this young girl and pays for the drinks. He pulls down his mask so he can be seen in the selfie she takes, his plush lips curling into a sweet smile that part of you wishes was aimed in your direction.

“You interact really well with your fans.” You comment, still smiling a bit as you make your way over to the opposite end of the counter. Chanhee tugs his mask back over his face, eyeing you cautiously.

“I’m a nice person, believe it or not.”

“I’d like to believe it,” you shrug, “but I haven’t seen that side of you so I can’t really trust you.”

Chanhee sticks his hands in his pockets, tapping his shoes against the ground. “That’s not my problem.”

Your smile drops and you turn away from him to watch as drinks slide across the counter for customers to grab. Your eyes are stinging and you manage to convince yourself, just barely, that he was joking.

“Iced latte for Y/N!” You step forward, almost too quickly to seem normal, and grab your drink. Chanhee’s comes out a moment after your, and you don’t wait for him to get it before you’re walking out the door and into the brisk morning air of mid-October. You walk quickly, admitting to yourself that he most certainly wasn’t joking and that these stupid comments from a stupid man with a stupid fucking ego are truly starting to get to you.

Your office is only nine blocks from this shop, a walk you can do in a bit under ten minutes. You pick up your pace when you hear Chanhee call out your name.

Unfortunately for you, Chanhee has longer legs and is very determined.

“What was that for?” He whines, and there’s another brief moment where you want to smile.

“What do you even want, Choi Chanhee?” You spit out the words like venom, and Chanhee flinches back.

“I already told you I wanted to apologize.”

“So do it and go away. Better yet,” you hold up a finger. “Don’t say anything and just leave. I can tell Mrs. Choi that you apologized and then we never have to see each other again.”

Chanhee looks at you, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. “Is that what you really want?”

You take a shaking breath but don’t answer him. Seven blocks until you reach your office. You merge with the crowd of people waiting for the sidewalk light to turn green. Chanhee turns your body so you’re facing him with his hands on the sides of your arms. It feels like he’s scorching your skin, his hands warm despite the cold weather.

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet now with the noise of the city around you. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was inappropriate and unnecessary. I apologize.”

For a moment you stare blankly at him, something that makes him a bit nervous.

“You’re just saying that because your mom wants you to, aren’t you?” Chanhee scoffs.

“Well, yeah, obviously. She banned me from family dinners until I apologize and she has this sixth sense about if we do what she says or not.”

You bite your tongue, nodding your head. Of course, that’s why he’s doing it. Not because he actually wants to apologize, but because he’s going to get something out of it.

“You know what, Chanhee—” Someone slams into your back before you can say anything and you yelp.

Ther sound of plastic cracking fills your ears, and a pair of arms wrap around you to keep you from hitting the ground. Cold liquid splashes against your shirt, brown standing out against the white fabric. Someone swears loudly.

You pull back from Chanhee, and a knot forms in your throat. Your coffee is all over his front, soaking into the fabric and dripping the excess onto the filthy pavement below you.

“Chanhee, I’m so—” your voice betrays you and tears well in your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let me— I have napkins in my purse—”

“It’s fine,” Chanhee waves a hand to stop you, but you don’t listen and continue reaching into your bag for a bundle of napkins. “Y/N, I’m telling you it’s okay. It’s just some coffee.”

“But— but it’s all over your shirt, and this was probably insanely expensive, and I just—”

“You’re right,” Chanhee interrupts you with a roll of his eyes. You look up at him, the napkins in your hand soaked with coffee and pressed against his shirt.

“What?”

“I said you’re right,” he shrugs. “This was your fault. And this shirt was incredibly expensive.” He takes the napkins out of your hand, leaning down a bit so only you can hear him. There’s a glint in his eyes that you don’t like it. “More expensive than you could ever hope to afford.”

There’s a new found anger in your eyes now.

“Go to hell, Chanhee.”

“The fuck happened to you?” Changmin lounges against the couch in the studio with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Chanhee just shakes his head, unbuttoning the silken fabric of his Dior shirt. The coffee had dried on his walk to the company, fifteen blocks in the opposite direction you’d been walking in, thanks to the sun and some cold air he hoped he would never have to walk in again.

“That girl from my parents’ shop spilled her coffee all over me.”

“What girl?” Hyunjae questions, spinning slowly in another chair.

“A couple days ago,” Changmin pushes off the couch to get closer to the conversation. “Chanhee was visiting his parents at the shop and there was this really pretty girl there talking to his mom. The girl had met his mom last night and they had talked on the train and then the girl broke her shoes because of his mom so they went to the shop and she was gifted two free pairs of shoes just because his mom felt really bad.”

“That’s sweet,” Hyunjae coos. “I love Mr. and Mrs. Choi.”

“Yeah, me too,” Changmin sighs and shakes his head. “Too bad Chanhee thought she was a stalker fan and went completely ape shit on the poor girl. She looked like she was about to cry!”

“I did not go ape shit!” Chanhee exclaims, folding his ruined shirt and tucking it into his bag. He’s pulling another shirt out, a loose black tee shirt this time, while Changmin mocks him quietly.

“Then why did she spill coffee on your shirt?” Hyunjae counters.

“She— it was an accident,” Chanhee huffs and throws himself down on the other couch. “I went to apologize, someone bumped into her, she spilled her coffee, and then…I ruined it…again…”

“What did you do this time? Kill her dog? Kick her while she was down?” Hyunjae asks, only half-joking.

“What?” Chanhee’s jaw drops. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because apparently you’re a piece of shit to hot women now.”

“I wasn’t a piece of shit! And she was not—” Chanhee stops himself, catching the raised eyebrows of his group members. “You two are the worst.”

“What do you even have against her anyway?” Hyunjae asks. Chanhee, for once, can’t find a good answer. You weren’t a stalker, something he’d learned a bit too late. However, he can’t exactly say his pride is getting in the way of a proper apology. He also couldn’t use Taeha as an excuse, knowing that they would lecture him about that whole relationship and how he knows better now that she’s gone. He also knows that if he used nerves as excuse, they would mock him for days and claim that he was in love with you.

Which he most definitely was not.

“I swear, she’s gonna come after your ass for defamation soon enough,” Changmin rolls his eyes. “Should we send her, like, a fruit basket as an apology? With a cute little note that says something like—”

“We’re not sending her a fruit basket.” Chanhee interrupts. Changmin pouts. Hyunjae smirks.

“You’re right,” the older man agrees. “We aren’t. You are.”

You see Chanhee again far sooner than you would’ve liked to. Two days have passed since the incident and you’d somehow managed to push it to the back of your mind. You would’ve liked to forget about him altogether, however, that clearly isn’t an option for you. You realize this when you come back from your lunch break to find him leaning against your desk scratching at the cheap material and doing anything but look up.

“Is that your boyfriend or something?” Sungchan is leaning against his cubical, gazing curiously at the handsome man. “If not, can I have him?”

You laugh quietly and Chanhee’s head snaps up to look at you. He looks absolutely horrified, his cheeks darkening the longer he looks at you.

“I think he wants you to go over to him.” Sungchan sinks back into his chair, smirking widely at you.

“Die lonely, Sungchan.”

He feigns hurt, waving you off.

From Sungchan’s desk to yours is about fifteen steps. On this day, you make those steps the longest you could possibly make them without it being awkward. You take a step and stop to chat with another coworker across the room. Another step and oops! You’ve dropped your pen to the ground. Thirteen more long, agonizing steps just to avoid talking to Choi Chanhee.

What has your life become?

“What can I help you with?”

You pretend you don’t see the giant fruit basket behind him on the ground. He pretends that it’s not there at all.

“I, uh,” Chanhee’s hand slips off your desk and he almost goes crashing to the floor. You don’t help him, your eyes widening at the loud, sudden, disastrous motion. “I just— I was, you know, just in the area. I wanted to check—”

“Channie!” A grating voice makes the two of you cringe, and the dull sound of heels hitting the carpeted floor catches your attention. Jung Taeha.

Chanhee’s face goes white, and your frown deepens. Do they know each other?

You hope they don’t, but the way she calls his name is so sickeningly sweet that you’re positive they do. Something in you breaks a little.

“Jung Taeha,” the words are forced out of Chanhee like someone performed the Heimlich maneuver to get food out of his throat. You bite back a laugh at the pain in his eyes, turning your gaze to the ground instead. “You…what are you doing here?”

“I work here, silly!” Taeha beams, practically shoving you to the side and grabbing the man by the shoulders to pull him in for a hug. He manages to keep her away from him, his soft eyes begging you for help. You step back, letting him handle her. You won’t risk your job for a man who already doesn’t think you can afford basic luxuries.

“Oh,” Chanhee says dumbly. “You do?”

The fakest laugh you’ve ever heard comes out of Taeha. It’s sharp, piercing your ears and making you wince. Honestly, to you, she sounds like a dying horse.

“Did you come here to visit me? You never visit me at work anymore! I miss you, Channie…” Taeha pouts, ignoring his hands pushing her away from him and trying desperately to wrap her arms around Chanhee’s waist.

“No—” Taeha gasps and cuts him off when she sees the fruit basket on the ground.

“Channie! Is that for me?”

“No it—”

“You really shouldn’t have! Gosh, and at work too! I’m so—”

“It’s not for you.”

In an instant, the office goes quiet. Keyboards fall quiet, conversations stop, heads pop up from their desks. Sungchan lets out an exaggerated gasp, the only sound in the entire office. A company phone rings and someone mutes it. Taeha’s face twitches. Not just her eye, not her lip. Her whole face twitches and suddenly her eyes are meeting yours. She looks angry. Angrier than you’ve ever seen her since you began working at this godforsaken company.

“What do you mean it isn’t for me?” She questions with a scoff. Her hands plant on her hips and she takes a step back. “Who else would it be for?”

Taeha says that while holding eye contact with you. The obvious implication is that they can’t possibly be for you. Why on Earth would someone like him get something like that for you?

“They’re for my girlfriend.”

You smile, glad to see Taeha put in her—

What?

“What?” Your mouth drops open and Chanhee looks at you with a playful smile.

“Y/N~” he playfully whines, draping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you into him until his cheek is resting on your head. “Stop pretending we’re not together! I know that the argument was my fault but this is a bit harsh, even for you!”

Your heart pounds, and you can feel his as well with your face pressed into him. He’s warm, you realize. His body is warm, and he smells sweet. Your brain tells you to pull away from him, but there’s a comfort in his embrace that you don’t want to leave.

“You’re…” Taeha’s teeth are grinding together. “You’re with…Y/N? Y/n, you’re with Chanhee?”

“Well…” you reluctantly pull yourself away from Chanhee, smiling just as playfully as him. “Of course. Why else would he be here?”

“I’m just— this is unexpected!” Taeha beams at you, but there’s maliciousness behind every blink and smile. “I’ve never seen you date anyone, so I was a bit surprised about this.”

“Oh, yes,” you nod and grasp Chanhee’s hand in your own. “I was a bit surprised as well, but it’s true. He treats me well. Spoils me, really!”

“Is that so?” Taeha’s eyebrow twitches and you fight a fit of laughter.

“Yep!” Chanhee places a large, noisy kiss to the top of your head.

“Been together for…how long has it been now, Channie?” Maybe mocking the nickname was a bit too far but you couldn’t help it. Everyone knows that when you see an opportunity, it needs to be taken.

“About…four weeks?” He hums and Taeha physically recoils, her eyes widening and her body jerking as if she’d been shoved. “Just had our first argument. Guess that means the honeymoon phase is over.”

“That’s great for you!” Taeha comes over and takes one of your hands. “I am truly so happy for you, Y/N!” She squeezes you so tight that you’re afraid she may break your hand if she holds on any longer. You can tell she wants to say more just by looking at her. Her mouth opens a bit and she inhales as if she’s about to say something, but it just as quickly shuts again and she forces a smile onto her face. “And you, Chanhee. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Taeha.” Chanhee beams. “That means a lot.”

“What the fuck was that?”

Chanhee leans against your desk, watching you work. For the past fifteen minutes, he’d been standing there in silence with a dumb look on his face. You’d returned to your work, heart pounding and the encounter replaying in your head over and over again. Girlfriend. Dating. 4 weeks. Taeha knows him.

Why did it feel like you were the only one who never knew what was going on?

Your sudden question jerks Chanhee out of his stupor. A phone rings in the cubicle next to yours and Chanhee sighs.

“Come with me, we should talk somewhere quiet.”

You want to say no. You want to tell him to go fuck himself or, better yet, go fuck Taeha aand leave you out of whatever stupid drama is happening. It has nothing to do with you. You just wanted him to leave you alone.

Unfortunately, Chanhee is grabbing your arm and the stupid fruit basket that started this whole situation and is guiding you to the exit of the office to find somewhere that doesn’t have wandering eyes. His grip on your arm isn’t tight, his fingers barely brushing the sleeve of your shirt, but it’s enough to guide you along with him.

He takes you to the parking garage, to a secluded area with few vehicles. Part of you thinks he might kill you. Part of you wishes that was the case.

“We’re away from people now,” you pull your arm out of his grasp and scowl. “Why did you tell Taeha that we’re dating? You hate me, I don’t necessarily like you either. I thought we were done with this.”

“That was before you spilled coffee on my shirt,” Chanhee frowns. “I liked that shirt too. Now it’s stained.”

“I’ll buy you a new one if it bothers you that much.”

Chanhee laughs quietly. “I wouldn’t make you do that. It was way too expensive for you, no offense. Besides, it isn’t that big of a deal. Just a quick trip to the laundromat and it’ll be good as new.”

“So then…why did you come here? If it wasn’t that important, why do you keep showing up where I don’t want you to be?” You pick at a loose string on your blouse, pulling on the thread until it comes loose. Chanhee exhales heavily, folding his hands neatly behind his back.

“Because I felt bad.”

You blink. “You…what?”

“I felt bad for how I treated you. I didn’t want to leave things off that way, you didn’t deserve that. You haven’t deserved any bit of how I’ve been treating you.” His cheeks are flushed, his eyes cast to the ground. “I’m sorry. Really, this time. I’m not just saying it to get it over with.” You laugh quietly, your lips curling up into a smile.

“You came all the way here for that?”

“And to give you this stupid fruit basket.” He kicks it lightly, the plastic wrapping scrunching with the action. “Changmin’s idea. It’s stupid, really. But he’s embarrassed for how I’ve been treating you.”

“And Taeha thought it was for her, right?” You crouch down next to the basket, examining the contents. “Why?”

Chanhee is quiet for a few moments, and then he huffs. “I dated her for a while. It was a shit relationship. She’s the reason that I thought you had been stalking me.”

“Are you serious?” Your head snaps up so fast you fear you may have given yourself whiplash. With wide eyes, you rise back to your feet. “Chanhee, that’s illegal. Why is she not in prison?”

“Because I didn’t have any solid proof,” he says as if it’s obvious and your teeth grind together to hold back a furious remark. “And, anyway, it’s in the past. What’s done is done.”

“And you…you told her I was your girlfriend to keep her off your back?”

“Exactly. I’m sorry.”

You scoff at the apology, “this is not something to apologize for. If anything, I’d have done the same thing. She’s fucking psycho.” Chanhee laughs and it’s a real, genuine laugh that makes your stomach churn with a warm feeling you haven’t felt before. His pretty eyes shut as he laughs, tilting his head back. It brings you to laugh as well, your hand rising to muffle the sound.

“Does this…” Chanhee hesitates, finally looking you in the eye. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

“Oh, no definitely not.” You frown. Chanhee’s face drops. “We can share laughs, yeah, but you still have apologizing and groveling to do. I’ll help you with Taeha but that’s because I owe it to your mother for helping me when I needed it.”

“I understand,” Chanhee murmurs, dipping his head a bit. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you sigh and lift the fruit basket off the ground. “Thank me when Taeha finally leaves.”

#I love when ppl write for my mans cuz hardly anyone does 😭#IM SO INVESTED #I LOVE IT SO MUCH 😭#choi chanhee

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messiahb0lical · 28 days ago

Text

Praying on your downfall | Octoberfest Day 9

Pairing: Enemy! Chanhee (New) x fem! reader

Drink: Margarita with a side of white rum (Enemies/body worship)

Synopsis: You tell people that you hate Choi Chanhee with every fibre of your being, but they don’t have to know that your conscience isn’t as clear as you say it is, nor do they have to know what goes on behind the doors of his bedroom.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), profanities, possible religious elements (possibly blasphemous- do not read if triggering), allusions to unprotected sex, body worship (m! receiving), mild bondage, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, power struggle, manhandling, hair-pulling, pet names (darling)

Network: @deoboyznet

A/N: This is not an accurate depiction of the individual(s) mentioned and is entirely fictional. Sorry for the delay! Also, I don’t know how to write about body worship so I hope I didn't fumble too badly with this one. Also, a big thank you to @daisyvisions for beta-reading!!

taglist: @corneliarstreet @daisyvisions @honeyrecommends @momhwa-agenda @jaminthemiddle @jaerisdiction @midnightfantasiez @missoxy @nyu-topia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @yunji-n click here to join!

OctoberFest Masterlist

“I think I like you a lot better like this, darling.”

Chanhee scoffs from his seat on the edge of his bed, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he lords over you. He’s got you completely bare for him, on your knees, your wrists bound together in front of you with one of his silk ties while you bore your angry eyes into his. You curse his name, wish him the worst, but time and again you end up in his sheets, continuing to tell him how much you hate each other though your actions say otherwise.

As foul as you like to think Chanhee is, you can’t deny that everything about him is beautiful. Everything. From his siren-like eyes, the perfect, unblemished skin of his neck and chest, all the way down to the length between his thighs that gets you weaker than anything else. He’s the epitome of perfection, and you despise him for it. It’s insane, really, the kind of impact someone’s body can have on you. You’d kneel for it, beg for it, even set your hatred for the man aside just so you could have him inside of you one way or another. It’s the one thing that brings you ecstasy that you’ve never known before, but unfortunately, it seems that Chanhee’s the only one who can give it to you.

He parts his legs a little further, almost laughing as he watches the way your eyes are drawn to the space in between. “How much do you want it, darling?”

You’d never tell him- partly for the sake of clinging to your last sliver of pride, and largely because he already knows just how much you need him.

He reaches for you, tugging you from your position on the floor and pulling you onto him before you can trip over your own feet. He has you straddling his lap and you hate how easily you comply, but it’s only natural when the two of you have established a routine of going at each other’s necks with unadulterated lust. Smooth palms slide over the skin of your thighs before resting on your waist, pinching your flesh while he commands you to look him in the eye.

“I asked you a question,” he drawls.

You press your lips together, refusing to utter a word while his gaze pierces through you. You know what he wants, and perhaps adhering to his instructions might make it easier for you to get what you want as well, but you refuse to live in a world where Chanhee always gets his way. Afterall, it isn’t wrong to refuse to confess how desperately you need him for your release, right?

“Don’t wanna use your words? That’s fine, if you’re not gonna talk then we’ll put your mouth to better use.”

He leans against his headboard, pulling you by the tie around your wrists, forcing you to inch shuffle your knees against the sheets till you’re in between his parted legs. Impatient, reach forward with your tied hands, but before you can even tug at the zipper of his slacks, he lunges forward, wrapping a hand around your throat and giving the sides a light squeeze.

“Work for it,” he commands.

Cursing under your breath, you shift closer, trying to ignore the way his eyes burn into your skin as you lean forward and press your lips against his perfect skin, and the sensation elicits a sigh of content from the man you’re straddling.

Burgundy blemishes bloom beneath your lips, and you gradually fall into a lust-filled haze, acting on autopilot and starting to mark him up just the way he likes.

He loves when you praise his body with your lips. To him, it’s amusing how easily you abandon your principles to become his personal little slut. He could tell everyone that the hatred you have for him is unfounded and expose just how much of a hypocrite you are, but watching you debase yourself to make him feel good in hopes that you’ll get something in return is humiliating enough for him to decide that he would be too cruel if he did.

“Lower.”

You do as he says, too focused on keeping him satisfied until he’s deemed that you’ve done enough for him, your hatred for the man getting pushed to the back of your mind for the moment. The marks you leave on his skin expand from the territory of his neck and collarbones, you begin to suck and sink your teeth lightly into his skin, and Chanhee’s gaze darkens.

He loves the irony of it all. He gets hard at how you mark him up as yours every single time he leads you into his bedroom although he’s the last person you should ever want to be with. He thinks that perhaps your desperation to get off is far greater than how much you detest him, and a smug smirk tugs at the corners of his lips at the thought.

You’re burning your lips into the skin of his stomach when Chanhee deems that he needs a little more from you. His eyes flicker down to your wrists and how your skin has reddened from struggling against the tie that’s been tied a little too tight, and he pouts in feigned sympathy.

“I think I’ll get this off you,” he mutters, reaching forward and grabbing hold of your wrists, “wanna feel your touch properly now.”

He undoes the knot around your wrists, and without hesitation your hands begin to roam freely across the expanse of his torso,

“Tell me… what do you love about me?”

You don’t answer him, instead choosing to kiss and suck harder onto his skin while clawing into his thighs.

“What’s your favourite part, princess?” he asks again, but much to his disappointment, you merely mumble in response and it’s nowhere near good enough for him.

He grabs your chin, glaring at you so intensely that it’s enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Speak up, I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

Impatience gets the best of him, snapping at you before he can allow you to reply, “I’m giving you the chance to admit it when nobody’s around, darling. Go on. Confess.”

“Y-your cock…” you admit with a slight tremble in your voice, and Chanhee chuckles as you finally relent.

He lifts you off his lap for a moment, holding your gaze as he trails a hand over his stomach to the zipper of his slacks. He toys with it, holding in a snicker as he watches you tremble in anticipation. Your breath hitches at the sound of the zip being undone, and you let your eyes flit down, warmth pooling between your thighs when you watch him release his cock from the confines of his pants.

Even in the most vulgar places, he’s pretty. His length is flushed pink at the tip, slim but long enough to pierce through your soul, and you can’t wait to have it inside of in any way that he wants.

It’s all yours, princess,” he coos, “open wide.”

Mouth watering, you swallow in excitement, getting a good look at the flushed head of his cock before you envelop it between swollen lips.

Chanhee says nothing while he watches you get drunk off his cock. Aside from the sensations, there’s something about the way you fervently hollow your cheeks around him and lave your tongue flat against the vein on the underside of his cock, like you’d starve without him. Perhaps it’s the hypocrisy that gets to him, maybe it’s not. Regardless, he delights in it. Relishes it. Gets off on it.

His moans get breathier and his chest begins to heave faster, spurring you to keep up with your ministrations on his length.

Though you never want to waste your thoughts on him, you can’t help but wonder if Chanhee has ever needed you as desperately as you needed him, and the thought has you realising how stupid it is that you’re not in control despite the position you’re in. how is it that he’s the one getting immersed in pleasure unguarded yet you’re the one who’s still in the clutches of his control?

You long to tip the scales, you crave his submission, and you hope that the next time you find yourself in this room your wrists will be free to do whatever you want to the man who will be at your mercy.

You think you have him right where you want him, doubling your efforts and hollowing your cheeks, working to get those quiet rasps to bleed into desperate, uncontrollable whines.

You’re so close- you see it in the way his lips fall open, how his chest heaves, and you can almost taste it- just a few more moments and you’ll have him falling apart completely, and soon enough, he’ll be the one getting on his knees for you. Begging for you.

Your movements get more intense, and Chanhee suddenly gets the feeling that his control is being syphoned away.

“D-darling… wait- oh fuck!”

He curses loudly when you relax your throat to take him to the hilt, bobbing your head up and down faster and refusing to let up, and his head falls back against the headboard when you swallow around him.

You can see it already- tear-filled siren eyes staring up into yours while he kneels at your feet, pleading for your touch and declaring that he’ll do anything to earn it from you. The image is so clear in your mind, you’re running towards it, but before you can try to shove him over the edge and have him hanging by your thread, slender fingers thread through your hair and yank you upwards, causing a pained gasp to leave your lips and your heart to sink in defeat.

“What do you think you’re doing, darling? He asks, tightening his grip on your roots.

“You think you can overpower me that easily? Oh you foolish little thing…” he tuts, and you let out a quiet whimper as you mourn the loss of the control that you never had.

Chanhee doesn’t really care that he just ruined his impending orgasm. He can’t afford to fall into a position of submission and vulnerability. Those shoes are yours to fill.

He cranes his neck forward, letting you feel his breath on your neck before nipping at the skin.

“But, since it seems that you want me to kneel for you so badly, I guess I will. But know this- it doesn’t matter if I’m on my knees, I’m above you in every single way.”

You begin to wriggle in his hold, and you try to grab hold of his length again in hopes of weakening him and continuing your struggle for control, but Chanhee is always one step ahead. He shoves you down, letting you fall unceremoniously onto the mattress and yanks you to the edge before standing between your spread legs.

He leans over you, pinning you down by your wrists before you can think about fighting him off, and he hovers his lips over your ear. “Let me refresh your memory of how things are supposed to be whenever you step into this room,” he whispers, searing his lips into the skin under your ear and delighting in your gasps.

He pulls away from your ear, starting to burn marks of his own into your skin between whispers of reminders, trailing lower and lower.

“You’ll never see me cry.”

Kiss.

“You’ll never hear me beg.”

Kiss.

“And you’ll never have control over me the way I do over you.”

Kiss.

He’s face-to-face with your cunt now, spreading your thighs further apart with his hands and laughing lowly at how it glistens with your essence, and he makes a mental note to be rough with you more often. You’re frozen, mind blanking when you try to think of ways you can turn things around, and your head falls back onto the mattress helplessly when you come to terms with the fact that you’ll be stuck praying for him to give you relief for as long as you’re desperate for his touch.

“I must confess, darling,” he lilts, “I love when you worship me with those lips of yours… but I love it even more when I can get you to sing my praises.”

He tightens his grip on your thighs, his fingernails pressing crescents into your skin

“If you want me to worship you so desperately, this is the only way you’re gonna get it whether you like it or not,” he seethes. “Go on, darling, atone for your sin.”

Whatever ounce of strength and spite you had is drained from you the moment his lips make contact with your centre, and you cling to the sheets for dear life, and Chanhee’s bedroom begins to echo with mantras of his name.

#lordtmercy #one chance chanhee pls😫#🍸— octoberfest #deoboyznet #the boyz smut #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz hard hours #the boyz scenarios #the boyz hard hours #tbz imagines #the boyz imagines

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messiahb0lical · 1 month ago

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babydoll || ji changmin || act ii

↳ Changmin isn’t popular nor is he rich, whereas you run on the other end of the spectrum, spoilt and living on your dads credit card. when you’re tasked with kicking him out of the biggest party of your year, you come to realise he’s not all that bad. unfortunately, falling in love with the ji changmin is your one way ticket to social suicide.

↳ pairing: ji changmin x female reader + ex lee juyeon x female reader

!!! this is not a love triangle !!!

~ rating: NC-17 minors please do not interact with this work

↳ genre: enemies to acquaintances to reluctant friends to lovers, slowburn, drama, angst, happy end but it takes a long ass time, rich girl broke ass uni boy

~ warnings: everyone still kinda sucks, juyeon is toxic and a red flag, manipulation, emotional abuse, toxic relationships, family abuse (implied, vaguely shown), bullying, reader is still a pain to deal with, alcohol, drug use, the classism is strong in this one still, implications of an eating disorder, body issues, body modifications (tongue and nipple piercings), changmin is basically a chainsmoker but we love him, minnie teaching ya'll and reader how to roll a cigarette, cocaine is common, so is imported wine, swearing, pet names (little doll, doll, darling, princess), whore and bitch, suicidal ideation, mild violence, first degree burns, taller reader with long hair, is anyone redeemable?

everyone is an adult in their 20s

!!! if I missed anything or I remember something else I will add it !!!

↳ words: 28,172

a/n: this is late. I apologise this shit is long as hell to edit and it broke tumblr and my computer.

I have said this previously but I will be stating this every chapter. There are some specific physical attributes to this reader which I usually avoid doing but for the story itself it was necessary.

Also, please note that the warnings are applicable to the chapter in question, not necessarily the whole story. You can find all the general warnings on the masterlist to babydoll. I also take no responsibility if you take issue with the topics and characters at hand once proceeding as I would hope you have read the warnings beforehand. If there is something I did genuinely miss in the warnings you are more than welcome to tell me though, since there is a lot and some might get overlooked.

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist and please I beg love up on this changmin he's taking all the strength I have and possess.

babydoll playlist || act i

You could go without hearing Changmin’s voice for the rest of your life. It’s not that it was an unattractive tone or that it was harsh, but it was the person behind it that immediately brought you to a halt. There was a very big part of you that almost knew what this was going to about, and you were set on avoiding it.

It was the very first time you didn’t stay to catch his attention. You walked away, heading down the stairs to the first floor in an attempt to shake him off. But Changmin was stubborn in his pursuit of you, especially today, and he persisted in running after you until he caught up and stood right in front of you to block your path.

“Why am I wrapped up in a rumour that you want to fuck me?”

It’s painfully embarrassing to hear those words from him. You’d expected it, given that in the past few days, the looks you’d received were ones that made you feel cornered, like prey being chased. Chanhee had even asked you, in a tone that sounded so judgemental that for a moment you thought he’d slipped into the opposing side. Juyeon’s side.

Hyunjae had been worse. You’d deemed him a maybe friend, especially considering how he’d been standing up for you recently, but his tone, like he was amused and laughing at your massive fuck up and that it was somehow funny to him, had made you cold towards him.

Younghoon was a nightmare. He’d grabbed your long hair by the roots and dragged you into an empty hallway to shame you. You’d embarrassed Juyeon and everyone knew about it. You fucked your ex boyfriend, used him for his money like a whore and then had the audacity to think about someone else.

It’s not like you had wanted to.

It had been an honest mistake, a thought that fell away from you.

Your social status had fallen to a new low. To a degree that had even Chanhee wary of speaking to you around others. You didn’t blame him, as you knew if it had been him, you’d likely cast him out much the same. See, that was the thing in both your circles, when it was all wealth and appearance and nothing of substance. Looks mattered, behaviour mattered, how awful you were to keep it perfect didn’t matter at all.

You missed Chanhee but you didn’t beg for him. He spoke to you when he desired, asked if you were okay, even apologised once when you were alone, but the damage was done.

Chanhee couldn’t fully understand it either. He knew you so well, he knew you’d never jeopardise yourself to this extent, so how were you possibly so stupid?

You straighten your posture but you’re more nervous than usual, hiding your palms underneath your hoodie as you fiddle with the sleeves.

Yes, the same hoodie the man before you had returned perfectly new, wearing it like an oversized dress with heels that once again made you just a little taller, and right now, it reassured you. You were above him, both physically and in status, and that still remained true. He would never be better than you.

“Says who?”

You’re stoic and nonchalant in your behaviour, even ice cold as you try to keep all your expressions away from his prying eyes, but Changmin only raises his brows and leans against the wall in disbelief because he doesn’t believe it. You’re not sure why he doesn’t, anyone usually would, but he looks at you like you’re see through, like everything is laid out in front of him, like he knows you down to the bone and it makes you extremely uncomfortable to know that he’s analysing you for more than just your body.

“Half the school is asking me why you moan my fucking name when some asshole fucks you and your concern is who?”

To be perfectly fair, both were of your concern. The fact that so many people approached a social outcast to ask him what the fuck you were doing, what you had done, all because Juyeon ran his mouth, just as much as who specifically had been the one to bring this to Changmin’s attention.

“Juyeon?”

“No, though I hear he’s been riding out the emotionally torn up victim perfectly,” you almost laugh because you can imagine it so well. Juyeon’s ego had been bruised and he had to run around so that everyone would know about it, but you caught yourself by hiding the slight smile behind your hand.

It wasn’t funny.

“I really don’t care, you know? You can fantasise about me all you want. Is that why you kept my hoodie?”

He’d been so close. So close to making you take a step back, if even just for a minute to tell him it was okay. Because the reality, as much as you hated it, was that none of this was really Changmin’s fault, even if you wanted it to be.

And then he went and ruined it, and it made you snap.

“You think I fucking like Juyeon going around telling people that I said someone else’s name when I fucked him?! Like you so graciously told me to?!

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t you think I’m humiliated enough?! It’s so fucking embarassing that it had to be you,” and that’s when you break. The cruelty of your words aren’t lost on you, but the emotional torment and humiliation you feel is even worse. You don’t let yourself, but it happens almost on its own when you start to cry, and you never cry.

Not like this, but the tears fall so freely that you couldn’t catch the droplets between your fingers even if you tried, and Changmin just stands there like an idiot. He stands there and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s amused in watching your vulnerability or because he genuinely feels bad, but either feel equally as bad at this point.

You run away as a result, and this time it proves successful as Changmin doesn’t seem to be following you, so you keep going. You run all the way to your car and when the door closes you allow yourself to really break, because you feel like your life is ruined. You feel like everything you worked for, and everything that was so unbearably painful to work towards, was for nothing. People looked at you now and saw one thing. You were the one who hurt Juyeon, someone well loved, in a manner that is so utterly humiliating that anyone would say he deserved better.

Juyeon was never the bad guy, and you just had no idea how to possibly spin it so that he could look to be the one who’d caused you more pain than you’d caused him. For the truth to your relationship had ran deep behind closed doors and you’d never let anyone in on it, and yet you slip up once and he lets the mask fall on who you are.

At least, who you are in his eyes.

You were sure now more than ever before that you and Juyeon were over, and it was like experiencing a break up all over again. It hurt, a lot, because there was once a time in which you would’ve said you maybe loved him. And the reality of him at the very least never caring to preserve your dignity and appearances when he knew how hard you worked for it and what you did to attain it, was a brutal reality that you simply did not want to face.

Weeks go by and you’re sure your life has hit a wall that you’ll never get over. You felt dramatic, sure, but you were certain you could simply cease to exist and it wouldn’t really matter anymore. It wasn’t that you’d made any plans at your life. It was more so a feeling of if you faded away, would it even make a difference?

You didn’t think it would. You’d let yourself sink to the status that Juyeon had asked for. You crashed, horrifically, falling so depressed that getting to class was a challenge, much less looking presentable. Your endless pairs of heels were replaced with trainers, ones you liked from dior but not nearly as graceful and elegant as what you usually had on, and you practically lived in hoodies that posed as dresses because they were just about long enough.

You still wore make up, but it was far less intricate than before, and your hair was usually up in a high ponytail because you just wanted it out of your face, and you wanted to hide the fact that you barely had the energy to brush through it.

Everything was tiring. Having everyone stare at you, treat you so far beneath yourself for something that had been no one's business was an awful, terrifyingly isolating feeling. You’d never been more aware of your appearance ever before as you were now, and yet you’d also never been as unenthused to fix it in your life. What was the point when the looks were the same. You were judged, beneath them.

You’d sunk to Changmin’s status, and for the first time you wondered how he could do it. How was he able to brush almost anything off, to seem so unbothered, when he was being torn apart from all directions. You’d done it to him, but you’d seen others do it far worse, and yet he acted just the same. It was something you wished you knew how to mirror, for maybe then it would at least earn you some respect back where he couldn’t, because he lacked the privilege you had.

Chanhee had brought you a coffee in the morning, your absolute favourite order and therefore you knew how expensive it was. A mix of extra shots of coffee and syrup, but it was refreshing and made you smile as he kissed the top of your head. You appreciated it more than he probably knew, because Chanhee hadn’t been around you much in recent weeks. Ever since it happened, you wouldn’t call it distance, but more missed chances to cross each other and neither of you made an effort to fix it.

Normally, Chanhee loved to pry. He wanted all the dirt and tea he could get out of you, but it’s like he knew to not cross this line, and the end result was distance. It was ironic, really, because you could’ve really used someone to talk to. For someone to ask with a non judgemental tone what the actual fuck had happened.

Even if in truth you didn’t fully know either where the hell you had gone wrong.

Changmin had tried to talk to you one more time but you’d turned him away. It’s like he’d chosen the worst moment, exactly when Hyunjae and Juyeon turned the hallway towards you both, and if you had even considered staying for a bit to hear what he had to say, it all went out the window as they showed up. You turned so fast to run that the three of them would likely fail to catch you.

Juyeon had somehow managed to spread more rumours, because the kicked little kitten had seen you with the very man you’d thought of. It felt ridiculous, even pathetic, the way he was dragging it, and yet the way you knew to stand up for yourself was entirely lost on you. You forgot to speak, forgot how to be firmly yourself with your thoughts to tell them all to go to hell. You forgot how to exist in yourself.

You went home that day and saw Changmin’s dark hoodie laying on the edge of your bed where you’d left it in the morning, and you decided you’d had enough. You weren’t a weak person, and you were letting yourself be walked over and dragged with the name of someone you didn’t even like. Why the hell would you stand for it, like he was worth more than you?

It was five in the morning when you got ready for your lecture three hours away. You dragged yourself into your shower, your little cat watching you with peculiar eyes because you were never up this early. She knew that, so she found it rather odd and just sat there perched curiously on the counter where all your makeup was messily strewn about for someone else to clean.

Changmin might’ve forgotten about the hoodie entirely, accepting defeat and transferring ownership, but you wanted to cut any and all strings with him. You wanted to have no part of you be intertwined with him, no association or ties that meant you even knew each other.

And you would do it looking absolutely stunning.

Your dress sits so tight it threatens to hurt you, but it forms around your body well and the length is just enough to be acceptable if you tape it to your thigh before it rises above your ass. Not class appropriate, but its never bothered you before.

You decide to wear one of your three red bottom heels, the highest ones you own, the colour black to go with the same coloured dress, paired with your silver jewellery. The ridiculous hoodie in your hand ruins the entire aesthetic, but at least you’d be rid of it soon.

When your driver drops you off at school, you make the not so unusual albeit stupid decision to cut a line of cocaine on a small piece of decorated glass that you keep in the car to break and distribute the powder into lines, because you’re tired as hell and have to withstand a lot of stares today. That, and you would willingly go looking for Changmin, his piece of clothing hidden away, folded neatly and delicately in a discarded designer shopping bag from one of your many expensive trips on your exes dime.

Maybe you needed a cigarette. A bottle of wine wouldn’t hurt either.

“You look very nice today,” it was a careful voice, Hyunjae, but you frowned when you turned to look at him. He was alone, well dressed with a cologne you couldn’t recognise, rare in your case, but nice. It wasn’t overbearing, and it mirrored the man in front of you quite well.

“Since when do you take the time to give me a compliment?”

“I just think you look nice,” he sounds honest and sincere, which in truth you do believe he means. You don’t think he’s carelessly choosing to say words to make you feel better, but it still doesn’t sit well with you, so you smile at him gently and touch his shoulder to squeeze it and ask for his attention.

“Well don’t, Jae,” he lets you leave, and you’re determined more than anything to find the man you wish to blame everything on. There’s a bounce to your step, wide awake now as the drug infiltrates your bloodstream, and you’re almost a little excited to get it all over with.

You’re even more excited at the prospect of dragging Juyeon down beneath you, but that was for later.

You’d just about given up on finding Changmin when after your final class, the library proved successful in your search. However, it also proved to be a mistake. You’re not sure what the reason is, but seeing Changmin makes you stop. You hit that familiar wall, except now it's a dam and it’s threatening to break. And if it breaks, so do you.

You’re emotionally charged in a way you don’t want to be, simply because you see him standing there, reaching for a book dressed in a simple t-shirt with his glasses perched over his nose that looks almost crafted from the side at which you're standing. It hits you suddenly, that you find Changmin to be physically beautiful. Even when he isn’t well dressed, there is a simplicity to him that is welcoming, and it makes you want to turn away.

He notices you, probably because a shadow loomed to his side and he was notified of your presence because you simply stood there. He’s carrying three books, and you wonder what they are, but then he moves towards you with a confused stare that has you thinking you couldn’t do this.

“Is there something on my face?”

His voice breaks you free from your mind in which you are a prisoner, or at least feel like one with your overwhelming thoughts that you simply never wish to have. Everything seems so easy for him, talking to you seems simple, and you’re wondering why you can’t formulate words to return it when it shouldn’t require any effort at all.

“I have your hoodie,” you keep your voice low just in case, but he hears it and seems to curiously perk up at the prospect of getting his clothes back.

“Oh? I figured you were keeping that,” honestly, so did you. You’d really wanted to, because it was still insanely comfortable to you. You loved it, in truth, for the way it wrapped around you felt soft, like you were nestled up in something that wouldn’t hurt your skin and never sat too tight just to form your body a certain way.

“I don’t want anything that ties me to you,” you wonder if it stings, when you insult him like this, but he makes no face that tells you it does. He’s perfect at hiding how he feels, and you nearly wish to ask him how he does it. How does he remain so okay, when things so cruel and hurtful are thrown his way?

You wish to emulate it, even in this moment, but you can’t.

It’s the one part of him you wished you could learn to take for yourself.

“Are you okay?”

Those three words hit you like a knife straight through your chest, reverberating deep in your bones as your entire resolve breaks. Your walls fall apart yet again and he’s the one to do it, because in truth you aren’t and he’s the only one to even ask the questions in weeks apart from Chanhee. People you consider your friends, or would consider anything at this point that Changmin isn’t, haven’t even asked, and yet he stands before you and doesn’t even seem to stumble over the words to pose the question.

And it makes you cry.

It’s absolutely humiliating to cry like this and the mascara burns your eyes in an instant, and yet every effort to stop forsakes you because it all makes it worse. Changmin stands there so awkwardly, like he might have ways to comfort someone but no ways of knowing how to comfort you, and you’re fairly certain he wishes to turn away because he finds it uncomfortable to simply stand here with you, in a corner, far from others yet not far enough that no one could see if they didn’t go to look

“I… listen… I really didn’t mean to make you cry,” you can tell he doesn’t like it. Maybe because it’s you or he’s uneasy by it in general, but it fills you up with even more embarrassment as you try to will your body to walk away. Yet you’ve turned to stone, accepting your humiliation because how much lower could you go before his eyes? You’ve broken entirely and he’s witnessed almost every second of your demise as you became nothing of value to absolutely everyone around you. You really were like a whore.

“Can you just t-take it?”

Forcing the bag into his fingers doesn’t work, and you note for the first time the silver rings he wears. You’re surprised you missed it before, or maybe he wasn’t always wearing them, but they’re intricate in their simplicity and you wish to have a closer look, though you wouldn’t be the one to ask.

“Listen… I know you have some pathetically unjustified hatred towards me-” you scoff, only to prove his point that has him rolling his dark brown eyes because he’s exasperated that you simply can’t let him finish, “I also find you incredibly fucking annoying and a raging bitch-”

“Hey!”

You want to hit him, yet you’re not going to disagree with him. You know how to hurt people well, how to manipulate a situation and how to come out on top above everyone else and so it earned you occasionally negative titles that were sometimes deserved.

Nevertheless you weren’t quite sure what he was getting at.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?”

Whatever it was, it hadn’t been that. You hadn’t expected to be asked to go anywhere with him, and yet here you both were, in a position of vulnerability for him and one even more for you. You were conflicted and uncertain in what you’re answer should be, because even if your first thought was to say no and reject him, it wasn’t what you truly wanted.

“What?”

“Ice cream makes anything better. Don’t you think?”

Well, no, you didn’t think so, for it added weight where you didn’t need it, and yet you didn’t want to turn him away. You were upset, evidently, and he was trying to do something to bring a smile to your lips and you hated that it felt like it was working. It shouldn’t be working, and yet you were heavily considering it.

“Fine, but I don’t need us to leave together.”

“I have another class, anyway,” but the way he spoke made you wonder if he’d been willing to skip it, if you’d immediately said yes to something you’d never thought you’d hear him ask. He almost seemed bitter but you weren’t quite able to feel bad.

But you wouldn’t mind ice cream, if you were honest.

“I can meet you there,” Changmin seems surprised, perking up in a way that is strangely endearing yet you refuse a smile, waiting for him to tell you where to go.

“It's just a ten minute walk from here. Amorino, I think.”

You’d heard of it, but in truth you’d never been, but it was meant to be good for the little it cost, so maybe it was worth a try.

“Fine. I’ll be there,” you’d get some of your assignments done, maybe, but first you’d need to spend the next hour in front of a mirror so that you didn’t look like an absolute mess, even when you felt like one. Changmin looked like he wanted to say something else, but he bit his tongue and walked away from you with your hands still firmly latched around the strap of your shopping bag. You wondered if he’d intentionally left it in your grasp, if there was a reason he was no longer so hellbent on getting it back, but you weren’t going to dwell on it.

And you were not keeping it any longer either. If anything, you’d blame your willingness and brief vulnerability to say yes on the fact that you simply just wanted to be rid of him, and that included the item you were holding.

You almost wished the rain had put him off from walking through the glass doors that led inside a sickly sweet smelling cafe, slightly cool because of the various ice cream needing the lower temperature. Sadly, it hadn’t, and Changmin walked in just a little over an hour after you had taken a seat in a corner far inside the shop, hoping that if anyone you knew would walk past, they wouldn’t recognise you. When he spots you, he seems almost as apprehensive as you to approach, brushing through his matted down wet strands of dark hair to move them away from his forehead.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” it seems true. Like he hadn’t expected you to really show up and in truth it seemed like the most reasonable assumption to make, because you really had no idea either.

“Me too,” he smiles at you and it makes you uncomfortable, for the shift in the way he treated you seemed disingenuous, yet nothing about it told you that his kindness in looking at you wasn’t real. It’s like you’d genuinely managed to amuse him with little to no effort, after the countless times in which you were a pain in his ass.

“Do you know which flavour you’d like?”

“I… honestly can’t decide,” it all sounded heavenly. You couldn’t remember when you’d last indulged in a sweet treat like this, even if it hadn’t been intentional to go so long without. It just never came to be for a very long time and suddenly you were overwhelmed with flavours that you wanted to try. You could’ve eaten half the menu, and yet you barely desired one in terms of calories.

“I think you can choose up to three for one cone,” three seemed absurd. It seemed excessive and yet the temptation to try three was so overbearing that you wanted to give in.

“Are you having three?”

“Probably,” you nod, falling silent because you really don’t know how to talk to him normally. Changmin was a stranger to you, and you fully realise it when you sit across from him and realise that you don’t know him at all. You don’t know who he is, how he thinks, aside from what he tells you, and the only other thing you know is what he looks like, and that he often adjusts his glasses as if they sit just a little too big.

“I can order for us both,” he offers, breaking you out of your trance to once again be reminded of how strange this is. You don’t like Changmin, yet sitting with him like this is simple. It’s weird, but it’s easier than expected. It’s very awkward, but it’s simple.

“You don’t have to order for me.”

“It was an offer, not a demand,” you roll your eyes, though his kindness isn’t lost on you and you’re once again sat here wondering what you’re really doing, and wondering why Changmin’s shift in personality was so sudden but genuine.

“Stracciatella, dulce de leche and coffee.”

“I can tell you’re rich,” you wonder if it’s an insult, but if it is he’s smiling and that almost makes it worse. You know how to do it best, smile through something you didn’t mean, or something that was an insult but you wanted the other person to maybe have hope that it wasn’t meant that way. Or maybe he was joking, and the slight tease just went way over your head.

“What’re you think?”

“Vanilla, lemon and amarena,” you nod, as if to just tell him you were listening but have nothing to say.

“But I’m the rich one,” it’s your way of figuring out if he was teasing too, by doing so back and seeing what his reaction will be. Changmin seems amused and you relax in knowing that he wasn’t mocking you.

“What’s wrong with those flavours?”

“Nothing,” you draw out, staring back at the menu to decide on a coffee, “I’ll get a drink.”

Changmin seems to hesitate just briefly and realisation dawns on you. You’ve always looked down on him for having less money, for not affording things, but it didn’t cross your mind that he might not even be able to afford this. The issue then became that you had no idea how to delicately approach it.

“I’ll pay for it,” you tell him, but there’s surprise on his face and a hint of frustration, and you wonder if you read it all wrong.

“I’m not in poverty, you do know that, right?”

Honestly, you didn’t. It might’ve been embarrassing to admit but you weren’t quite sure at what point someone was considered within poverty because very often, your parents had shown you that even the most common ordinary people lacked money and therefore weren’t content in life. You had no real way of measuring what was really considered little. Hell, you barely knew what your family had in regards to wealth, because you rarely looked at the money you spent. You knew you always had it, so you spent it, without having to think about it.

In your mind, anyone that had to consider their spending was poor.

Sat here now with Changmin was probably the first moment in which you briefly think that might’ve been wrong. That maybe he was cautious with money but not without it. If he was without it, he would likely not be as inviting to sit with and dressed the way he was, even if you’d never buy clothes like the ones he wore.

“I’d still like to pay,” you offer, and you’re not really sure why. You’re here to give him this stupid bag that’s been weighing down on your mind all day as you chased after him, and maybe you’re also hoping to buy his silence on the fact that you cried before him and have done so twice now.

“I invited you here,” he was right. Usually, at least how you were raised, the one inviting the other is the one to pay unless otherwise agreed, which had never been the case for you before, yet it was now.

“And I’m telling you to let me pay.”

“You’re really demanding you know?”

You knew. It’s how you got what you wanted, to make demands rather than ask questions. Changmin seems displeased but he doesn’t argue with you, shrugging his jacket off to drape it over the chair before he gets up and waits.

“What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

“Just take my card. Three, five, seven, two,” you hold it out to him between your long manicured nails and he looks at you like you’re insane. It’s another reminder of how different you two are, of how giving him access to sums he’s never even seen or hoped to dream of meant absolutely nothing to you, because it really didn’t.

“Thanks?”

Changmin walks away, but it’s only brief before he’s turned back around to approach you, “which coffee did you want?”

“A latte macchiato,” he nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts again as you watch his back. The weather has since gotten worse, but it’s quite cosy from here, to simply watch the rain fall, the droplets chasing after one another from top to bottom, only to repeat over and over again in different patterns. The heating was on too, and it was quite comfortable to simply sit here.

The girl at the counter smiles at Changmin in a way that makes you want to turn away, not because someone flirting with him bothers you, but because you can’t believe how ridiculous she’s being in doing so. He’s here with you, and she’s practically begging for it.

Whatever she says, he seems polite but distant enough for her to straighten her posture and adjust her smile to a more professional one, and so you take that as a rejection on his part. You’re not sure why you find that so satisfying, that she didn’t get her way, but you’re happy about it regardless as he’s handed two ice cream cones that seem far more intricate than you’d expected.

It’s only when he comes closer that you realise that the ice cream has been layered together to form the shape of multiple rose petals and ultimately a flower, three separately assorted colours that make up the flavours you asked for, “they’re still making the coffees.”

“Thanks,” you take the ice cream from him carefully, admiring its shape and look. It’s beautiful, really, and it does put a gentle smile on your face as you manage a little laugh in amusement, “it’s pretty.”

You wonder if Changmin knew how they put the ice cream together. If maybe he suggested this place because he figured something as simple as an ice cream shaped like beautiful petals belonging to a rose would cheer you up or make you feel better for the absolute mess that had become your life. For the emotional turmoil you felt as you fell in importance and high regard in others’ eyes.

You mattered less to almost everyone you knew and it bothered you greatly.

Both of you fall silent, likely because neither of you have anything to say. There’s nothing to talk about, not between the two of you, and there’s no attempt at changing it either. Neither of you want to become friends, and yet here you both sit being friendly.

How strange the world worked sometimes.

“I’m sorry Juyeon’s such a dick to you,” it takes you by complete surprise to hear him speak, and whilst normally you’d find yourself frustrated to hear him even bring it up again, it’s oddly comforting to hear an opinion you agree with, albeit planned to have kept from Changmin. You want him to believe that things are perfect, that you and Juyeon are perfect, because you hold on to the false belief that maybe it would be.

“Juyeon’s just… a guy, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you wonder why he says it. If he’s trying to tell you he’s better than Juyeon and if so, why it would matter. You have no interest in him and never would, so there was no need for Changmin to make himself better than the man you somehow spent still loving, despite all his horrifying flaws.

And there were many of them, and yet you still saw it with rose tinted glasses. Whilst aware of it, it mattered less to you.

“I don’t plan to ever have sex with you if-“

“That wasn’t an invitation,” again, your eyes roll almost instantly. He’s too good at being frustrating, and he sits there with his body leaned forward like he’s engaged in you while he takes a bite of his ice cream.

A bite.

“You’re insane. Why do you bite it?”

“It’s food?”

“It’s cold.”

“Why would I want to just lick it? I barely get any ice cream and then it melts.”

You watch as he bites into another petal and you push your body up a little to see what flavour it might’ve been.

“Vanilla,” he answers and you nod, sitting back with your one leg crossed over the other.

“Isn’t vanilla a little plain?”

“Is that a double entendre?”

It’s so easy to give up when the conversation is so static, so forced because you truly have nothing to talk about. What the hell do you both even have in common?

“I have a cat,” Changmin laughs and it’s a little unexpected, his smile so light and his dimples set deep in his cheeks. It’s an inviting smile, warm, and his tone of laughter is unique and suits him. There’s a childlike amusement to his features as he looks down at the table.

“I also have a cat,” you were curious to see her, or him, but you didn’t really want to ask. Both of you sharing photos of your pets over ice cream and coffee was a little bit too friendly, but you supposed there was now something you had in common, “but I don’t really like cats.”

Nevermind.

“Then why do you have one?”

He thinks, just for a minute as he drinks some of his coffee that had been brought over just a few short minutes before, and you must say now you really want to know why he has a pet he doesn’t even like.

“I found him on the streets. He was put in a box and it was raining. Wasn’t going to take him first because I didn’t want one. But when I went to call someone in the shop nearby, he’d somehow jumped out of the box and started to follow me. He just wouldn’t leave.”

It was unexpectedly sweet and very much something you would’ve never considered. Of course your cat was store bought, expensive and from a litter from a breeder that had done this for the past decade or two. Getting a cat of the streets, even if unintentionally was so out of your character, but you knew when to admit you found it to be kind of Changmin to have done so.

“You kept him?”

“I did. He’s very sweet.”

“Chanhee says my cat is a diva.”

“So she takes after you. Figures,” you could hit him, but you bite your tongue and try a new flavour of the ice cream petals. Coffee. Definitely.

The conversation dies again when it would be so easy to keep it going, but it’s like neither of you have any desire to do so. And yet, you find yourself far more at ease sitting here than you would’ve thought when you first agreed to it. You didn’t feel like you had to make up the silence that you both shared.

He seemed to share the same thoughts, though he didn’t often share eye contact with you. You weren’t sure if he was hesitant to or maybe he just didn’t want to look at you, but previous times you’d met him, he’d always been good at looking you in the eye. It was a little strange that he seemed to look everywhere else but at you now, unless you spoke.

“You smoke, right?” Painful. These occasional conversations littered into being sat here were just simply weird, but you watch as he grabs a bag of loose tobacco out of his jacket as well as some rolling paper and a filter.

“Didn’t you smoke straights last time?”

“You remember?”

Fuck.

“I didn’t forget you offering me one,” he shrugs and you watch as he distributes the tobacco onto the paper carefully between his jewellery adorned fingers. It was distracting and you could curse again for it, because he was doing it all effortlessly with one hand.

“You want one now?”

“I can do it…” he seems to hesitate though ultimately pushes the bag of tobacco over to your end of the table, and you fiddle with the cone of your ice cream between your one hand whilst figuring out how to do this with the other. Actually, how the fuck had Changmin done this?

“How did you-”

“Put it on the table first. You can roll with one hand,” he was definitely more confident in your abilities than you were, and maybe that was sweet but it was also giving you far more credit than you deserved.

You didn’t even want to admit that you couldn’t roll a cigarette at all. You always bought straights, the times you bought any at all. Doing it yourself seemed like extra effort for not much pay off.

You try to mirror Changmin, seeing how much tobacco he used and loosening up the dried leaves between your fingers the way he had done as they all clung together in the bag, then adding a generous amount to the paper you’d taken out of its flat packaging.

“Do you always smoke American spirit?”

“I tend to. Or marlboro. Why?”

You shrug, going back to what you’re doing but you very quickly realise you’ll need both hands. Watching him do it, pushing and pinching the thin paper together to tighten the tobacco with two fingers, maybe three at best, was ridiculous.

“Do you want me to hold your ice cream?”

At this point, you’re determined to prove both him and you that you can do this, when you know the reality is you can’t. Changmin doesn’t know that though, and how hard could it be to roll a cigarette, really?

“You can have it.”

“You have more than half left,” he frowns, putting his nearly rolled cigarette down on the table as he holds your ice cream, watching you and the way your fingers take both ends of the paper to pinch it together, “is it not good?”

“It’s nice. It’s not the flavour,” hopefully, he knows to drop the conversation. Though you look up and can tell by his expression that he likely wants to keep asking but you don’t see why you should need to justify it.

“You need to… no… you have too much,” he sighs, wanting to reach over but both his hands are occupied with both of your ice cream cones and so he can only sit trapped wishing to intervene as you try to make adjustments when he complains with no real instructions as to how you can do it better, “you’ve never done this before.”

“So I’ve been caught,” as if one of the cafe staff had noticed him struggling, they bring over a holder for two ice cream cones that are scattered on a few tables, yours not having been one of them.

“Thank you,” he redirects his attention to you, hands free, “look, I’ll teach you,” you scoff, crossing your arms as you’ve let go of the damaged bundle of tobacco in a scrunched up paper, looking between its state and back up at Changmin. You didn’t want him to teach you anything, because you didn’t think he had anything worth showing you. Yet at the same time, you didn’t enjoy not knowing how to do something, and if he was willingly prepared to show you how to actually do it, maybe you shouldn’t deny him.

“I don’t really smoke…”

“I won’t encourage you to,” he grabs another rolling paper, holding it out to you and you hesitate but ultimately take it between your fingers as he does the same, ignoring his near finished cigarette to start over, “but I smoke a lot, so I’ll take it off your hands if you don’t want it.”

“You’ll get cancer,” you’re disgusted but you don’t have much of a right to be. You smoke too and do far worse things. Every party could bring you to the brink of death if you aren’t careful enough with what you’re using, and yet you’re telling him he’s risking his life.

“Thanks, the packaging hadn’t told me,” you recognise Changmin’s sarcastic tone well by now, given that it’s the tone he mostly spoke to you in, but you also don’t retaliate this time. You had nothing to say, nothing to add that wouldn’t be another circular back and forth of neither of you ever getting to the point or settling a fight.

“The tobacco is quite tight, so you’ll have to loosen it with your fingers a little before you put it on the paper.”

“What about the filter?”

“It’s harder to roll with a filter. Try without first,” but you’re stubborn, and you grab a filter and bring it to one edge of the rolling paper before he can take it away from you. Sighing, he relents and grabs one too to demonstrate more accurately.

“You’re ridiculous,”

“And I won’t be caught dead smoking a non filtered cigarette.”

“You should try it. The nicotine high is amazing,” okay, so maybe you’d reconsider. You’d never thought of it, even if it was obvious, “you’re curious now.”

“I might be,” Changmin smiles and your cheeks feel a little warmer, but surely it’s the warm coffee and the indoor heating and not the fact that he looked at you with eyes that were gentle, like his happiness in showing you something wasn’t structured into an act of false behaviour.

Then you wonder why it makes any difference. If he wasn’t being genuine, did it matter?

He leans back over and slips the filter away from your paper, then adjusts and sits up a little straighter before his body moves back into your space to be a little closer to demonstrate.

“So, you loosen some of the tobacco between your fingers. This one is quite dry- and then you bring it onto the paper like so,” you follow his lead, though you could’ve managed this part on your own. This was the one part you’d done correctly without his help, “you want it to be pretty even but don’t worry about it not being perfect.”

“It has to be perfect,” he sighs, his head rolling down in defeat before he slowly looks back up at you.

“Perfection is an unattainable fantasy. Now take your fingers and move them to either edge and pinch while rolling it like so.”

You follow his lead though if you’re entirely honest, you have no idea how he makes it look so easy and effortless. His tobacco bunches together into a beautiful neat line perfectly, whilst yours is a disaster in which it falls or thins out too much on one end. It feels awkward and incorrect, the way you do it, and yet you’re following his exact instructions.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Or you suck at teaching,” giving up was tempting, but showing Changmin defeat wasn’t an option. You wanted to get this, no matter how awful the end outcome would be.

“You have the ends. Move your fingers more into the middle to roll.”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

He looks exasperated, his glasses moving slightly as he raises his brows and huffs out in annoyance at your inability to do something he deemed simple, “you’re just bad at this. That’s okay.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not bad at things.”

“Just roll the paper over once you have the right shape. Wet the end and seal it and then you can tap the end against the table,” he shows you how, but he does it so quickly you barely manage to follow his movements. He’s amazing at it, you do have to admit, but you hate him for it because you want to be better. It’s irrational, because how realistic is it for you to be better at rolling a cigarette when you’d never done it before, when Changmin had probably done it for years?

“It’s not tight like yours though.”

“Just try. You have the movement right,” but it doesn’t feel right. It feels awkward and you might just blame it on your acrylics for not managing, but the end result is so pathetic that you’re surprise the cigarette even holds.

“It’s… a cigarette.”

“I’m not smoking that,” Changmin doesn’t seem surprised, but he does surprise you when he places his perfectly rolled cigarette right before you and takes yours instead, placing it behind his ear before retrieving his jacket and taking his melting ice cream, “you coming?”

Well, you suppose you were now.

You grab the bag with his hoodie in one hand, Changmin’s cigarette in the other as you follow him outside, leaving your ice cream to melt before it’s thrown away. It’s not unnoticed by him either, and he turns around to grab it between his fingers, “if you won’t have it, I will. You’re wasting money and good ice cream.”

“I’m watching my figure.”

“Why?”

He holds both cones in one hand with their remnants of sweet gelato, placing his cigarette between his lips and lighting it with one hand turned away from the storm and rain. The shop has an overhang to shield you both from direct downpour, but lighters are stubborn with wind and he seems to know it well.

His one worded question seems strange. It’s not worried, nor is it judgemental. At least you don’t perceive it to be. It’s simply confused, like he’s genuinely surprised that you would even bother at all.

“Because I want to be thin.”

Changmin wants to say something. You can tell he does, that there’s something right on his lips yet he doesn’t speak it. He resists words he probably knows you really don’t want to hear. He would be right, because any comments about your body aren’t welcomed unless they’re compliments that remind you of what you’ve worked for. All the times you don’t eat are rewarded with the acknowledgement of it.

“Here,” he holds out his lighter, the flame igniting right by your lips in which the cigarette is perched carefully, and you lean in enough and inhale so that it burns.

“Thanks.”

“You really are peculiar,” you don’t see how you are. From your point of view, he’s the abnormal one. He dresses cheap despite the school he attends, he doesn’t socialise, and he seems so ignorant to his surroundings and the importance of appearance, “I have to go.”

It takes you by surprise. Your thoughts had been so tangled and convoluted that you hadn’t seen him take his phone out, much less fumble with the ice cream, his cigarette and the device to answer whoever it was.

You wondered who it was.

“Who is it?”

You can’t help it. Call it morbid curiosity, even in regards to Changmin of all people, “I completely forgot I have a date.”

The thought of anyone going out with Changmin was a concept you weren’t ready to wrap your head around, but maybe if it was a girl he’d met online, she’d based it merely on appearance and even you wouldn’t fully be able to say that he was ugly. You knew he wasn’t, as much as it pained you to admit he was actually rather beautiful when he didn’t open his mouth.

“Is she cute?”

“She’s cute, yeah,” but he doesn’t seem excited. It almost feels like an insult to hear how he speaks about the prospect of his date. Were all men like this?

Had Juyeon been so disinterested when he first dated you?

“You’re going dressed like this?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Boy, he really wasn’t trying. It felt near cruel, because you were almost certain that the girl would be beautiful, and even if her physical appearance wasn’t as gorgeous, she would make up for it in every way with the way she chose to dress.

And Changmin was in casual attire, his hair had fallen to his face and he seemed tired.

“Poor girl.”

“It’s really not your business,” and then he discards his cigarette and grabs the bag you’d been holding without warning, practically ripping it out of your hand and the movement feels more aggressive than you’re used to from him. His tone could be harsh but his actions never were, and so it surprised you when he didn’t even ask to take it.

“Thank you for the hoodie.”

He doesn’t sound thankful at all. Changmin sounds annoyed, as he throws the little remnants of ice cream cone with next to no ice cream left, in the trash he passes as he walks away from you. You stand there, empty handed aside from the cigarette that was burning but barely smoked, and you honestly feel lost. You’re strangely confused and unsure, and you really don’t quite know why.

You felt like maybe you’d managed to really get under his skin, and if that were the case, you were sure it was the first time you’d ever managed it. Yet you’d expected it to feel different, to frustrate him enough to show true emotion in his anger and discontent towards you.

Instead it just felt like nothing.

You’re not sure what to make of Changmin. But you had bought a packet of loose tobacco and pink rolling paper to fiddle with in the comfort of your large bedroom. You were near naked, just out of your shower and only in underwear whilst you fiddled around with the cigarette in your hand. It was fucking difficult, and you’d probably gone through ten different videos on youtube teaching you how to do it. At least trying to, and each time you just failed to fully do it right.

Juyeon had called you and while you’d originally wanted to pick up and even thought to, by the time you made any attempt to move your hands, he’d already hung up.

Chanhee had also called though and you had picked up, asking how he was though he pushed for you to answer first, and you hadn’t known what to say. You felt fine yet simultaneously you felt strangely numb. It wasn’t that you didn’t care, it’s that Juyeon had worn you down. He’d broken something in you and collecting the pieces wasn’t possible because not all parts still existed.

Convincing yourself that it was over was difficult when Juyeon was right there to call back.

You wanted to.

It takes about ten failed attempts at rolling a cigarette before you manage one that’s just decent enough to smoke, and in your mind you wish to share your success with Changmin, since he was the one that had witnessed your inability to do it in the first place. You wanted to prove a point, as petty and unimportant as it was. You could roll a damn cigarette.

But you’d rather roll over in your grave than ask anyone for his phone number. If anyone even had it. He’d said he was supervising a friend the night you first really spoke to him but you’d yet to see him talking with anyone at all. Who was Changmin friends with, if anyone at all?

The question dwelled on you curiously. You didn’t think he’d lied to you that night, you had to at least give him the benefit of his annoying ability to always speak what you assumed to be his truth. He didn’t care of the consequence or if it hurt, and you supposed maybe that was where your one similarity lay.

If you hurt someone, it didn’t really matter as long as it made you look good.

“Dear? Could I come in?”

Your mother being home was unexpected. Her knocking on your bedroom door to ask if she could come in was even stranger. It made you worry, and you quickly discarded all your rolled cigarettes in a drawer as well as any other damning evidence aside from the one now considered a masterpiece to show off. You placed it behind your ear and straightened your posture, “yeah?”

“You need to draw the curtains,” she criticised, walking over to the massive window to give you far more than you bargained for with the natural sunlight despite the depressing clouds, “and we do not smoke indoors.”

“I’m not smoking it!”

“Attitude,” you want to sigh but you’re sure that runs in the same category as what she’d just warned you about in your tone, so you bite your tongue and just wait to hear what she wants.

“I’ve been told you’ve missed a lot of your classes.”

“By who?”

“We had dinner with the Lee’s. Juyeon expressed his concern over you. Why you ever broke up with that handsome young man is beyond me, Y/N,” yeah, it was beyond you too, at this point. Clearly you were the fucking idiot, as everyone so rightfully had begun to assume. Juyeon was the perfect man, one most girls would probably dream of and you had him. You had him, and you wasted the opportunity to be happy with him.

And what for?

“I know, mother.”

“You should come with this time. Maybe you can both make up before we go on that lovely vacation together.”

“What…?”

She stands by the edge of your bed with condescending eyes that look down on you and make you feel small, which was ironic because your mother was about a head shorter than you and incredibly petite, but her personality was so in your face, her stare so cold that it made you feel like nothing. She made you feel insignificant and she did so perfectly.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten? You’ve always been forgetful,” you cast your eyes down to your lap, listening to her berate you and having no real way of defending yourself without it earning you a slap or worse.

“I’m sorry. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“Go on a walk. You could go to the docks on one of the boats. I don’t care. But stop missing classes because I will not have a failure of a child when she gets everything handed to her,” it stings. It really stings to be insulted so genuinely. Your grades were by no means terrible and your mother rarely cared before about any of your stupid behaviour, but you supposed as soon as your mask slipped and you fell towards lower status, she could sense it like a blood hound and she was intent on destroying you to a point in which you’d need to remodel yourself to be perfect again.

You were grateful for her, because she knew how to shape you into someone you wanted to be.

“And invite Juyeon if you’re taking the boat out!”

She leaves without another glance your way and you feel like nothing, but you also call Juyeon, so you suppose her harsh words and loveless demeanour worked. They worked at beating you down and you listened to her, but you couldn’t say you weren’t at least a little relieved when Juyeon didn’t pick up at first.

“What?”

Damn it.

“You called me first.”

“And now you’re calling me back,” it felt like a game. It was constant at this point and it never felt healthy and yet you knew no better. You weren’t dumb but Juyeon had an incredible way of making you appear to be the greatest idiot.

“My mother wants us to take the boat out,” you wait for a response, not hearing one first until there’s shuffling on the other line.

“Just us?”

“Well, she likes you,” you add, which you knew would work well for his bruised ego. Juyeon loved being told he was liked and you knew how to feed into it well. You’d spent years learning the intricacies that made up Lee Juyeon, and you doubted that would ever fully go away. You weren’t sure if you wanted it to go at all.

“Have you told her why I haven’t been around?”

“You could always tell her yourself. She hates me enough, you can’t make it worse,” you hear him on the other end and you hope he feels bad for you. You want him to, even if it’s just for a little moment.

“That’s just not as fun,” he breaks your illusioned disbelief that he could be sympathetic towards you and you wish yet again for your remaining feelings to go away.

Instead, you decide to be stupid and slip up.

“I really loved you.”

The silence is so painfully long you could honestly throw yourself out the two story window of the view your mother had just revealed to you moments before.

“You don’t love me anymore?”

The way you fell into his traps was so effortless. Juyeon wasn’t having to really try and yet you fell right into his hand every time without fail. You were so drawn to him and you couldn't tell for what reason. Because in truth you didn’t really see yourself as wanting a relationship with him, he was an asshole and yet you ran in circles because you somehow still liked him despite it all.

“Juyeon…”

“Do you love me?”

He asks it again and the question is a demand for you to answer and yet it doesn’t come naturally to you the way you want it to. It feels false, maybe because you know you’re walking yourself into a trap. Yet the trap being laid out for you to see doesn’t hinder you any less from falling into it because of the reward you see in the midst of it.

“I love you.”

“Then why don’t we celebrate?”

A yacht party was not at all what you had in mind when celebrating your pathetic attempt at clearing your image by being back on Juyeon’s side. But Juyeon had insisted and your mother had somehow overheard at some point and was practically beaming just at the prospect of Juyeon being back on one of your family boats. Her timing was masterful and you hated everything about it.

You also hated the looks you were getting, judgement, whilst Juyeon was on the opposite end of the yacht gleaming and taking in every ounce of sympathy like it fed him. He’d so graciously forgiven you, told everyone that it was an honest mistake and that he understood you both were over, and now everyone stood at his feet as if ready to do any and all of his bidding.

It was insufferable.

“I think he likes attention more than you,” Chanhee mumbles, standing next to you now with a champagne flute between his delicate fingers and you turn to him with a frown on your face.

“I think it’s pathetic.”

“I’d agree,” your best friend leans back a little, staring into the dark water as night time beams above you in the shape of a crescent moon, “but you go for it every time.”

“I’m not here for a lecture,” you have a sip of your drink, grimacing at the strength of it. You’d been a little too generous on the rum, even for your standards, but you need the alcohol if you’re going to get through this night out on open water.

“Have you seen the new kids?”

Chanhee nudges you towards another direction, one that has two younger men downing a glass of something each, and being urged on to do so by Younghoon and Hyunjae. Juyeon was now talking to a girl you didn’t care to know the name of, but he occasionally glanced over too.

“Freshmen?”

“Mhmm, one of them is kinda cute, no?”

You give your best friend an odd look before glancing back over. They both look young, not older than twenty, playful and energetic and so full of life that you wonder when that’ll go away. You wonder when both of them will realise the world is dark and being so carefree was simply being naive.

“Which one?”

Chanhee gestures to the one on the left, with dark hair and full lips that you’re sure has made girls jealous in the past, and if not jealous, at least more than willing to kiss him. He seemed to know it too, because something about him felt cocky and maybe even arrogant, despite his sweet playful smile and loud laugh that you could hear from this far away.

The other, a striking blonde colour of hair that he’d definitely bleached with a sharp pointed nose that seemed surgical, making you wonder if he’d invested in a nose job as soon as he’d turned eighteen. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had, for if it was real it was almost absurdly perfect.

“Juyeon invited them?” Chanhee shrugs, though given that neither you nor your best friend seemed to have any clue on who they were and had no influence on them showing up, you were almost certain it was Juyeon. It was near confirmed when your recent lover approached the blonde and wrapped an arm over his shoulder, ruffling through his hair playfully though you could see the roughness in his grip.

It’d surely be blamed on boys being boys.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you say, and you can see Juyeon’s eyes meet yours as you do. He detaches from the blonde and approaches you, and god do you wish it wasn’t noticeable to everyone that he was doing so.

“Little princess,” he leans against the railing, watching as you pour yourself more rum but in truth you are ready to down the whole bottle when he talks to you, “why’re you frowning?”

“Did you invite freshmen?”

“Who? Oh- you mean Sunwoo and Eric? I did, yeah. They’re cute, right?”

There had to be a motive. You didn’t trust Juyeon to have pure intentions and simply so graciously bring a pair of freshmen onto a party such as this. There was no way in hell Juyeon would introduce someone into his social circle without gaining something out of it. Especially someone younger than him.

“What’re you doing with them?”

“I’m thinking a sex party?” you laugh because it’s absurd, but Juyeon laughs too because he’s managed to humour you and it’s nice. It’s nice to laugh with someone you consider close, someone that is similar to you and that understands the importance of status and appearance.

“Now what is it actually?”

Juyeon looks over, seeing his friends and the two in question playing around with a lighter and the not lit outdoor fireplace. At least not lit yet, given that they were clearly trying. Hyunjae was sat on the circular couch, Younghoon lying next to him, Sunwoo standing and berating Eric who was hunched over trying to light the coal, “he needs ignition.”

“I’ll go grab it for him.”

Juyeon leaves you standing there with a bad feeling. Drunk people around a fire, intoxicated people in general around live flames was a recipe for disaster. Yet you weren’t stopping it. Maybe because you knew it wouldn’t be you to fall into it.

Chanhee had joined them, sat next to Hyunjae with his legs curled under his thighs as he held a new glass in hand, looking so delicate and regal he felt most like royalty out of all of you. He was so beautiful, it made you jealous again. It was worse, too, to know that he had naturally just formed to be this way, whilst your parents had discretely paid for your nose to be fixed, your breasts to be augmented and to have some leftover fat dissolved to appear even smaller.

Not that you’d outright admitted it to anyone, though you were sure those who’d known you long enough, knew that a part of you simply wasn’t real anymore, because reality wasn’t pretty and you wanted to be.

Juyeon joined them a few seconds after with lighter fluid, thankfully not being too generous with how much he coated the charcoal in. At least he seemed sober, more than anyone else that was sat there, and you watched Eric attempting to light the flames again, this time successful in sparking a fire that jumped high enough to nearly hit his face, making him jump back in surprise and panic at the thought of getting burned.

Unbelievable.

You walked over to them and sat down at the very edge, Eric turning his attention to you with a bright smile that surprised even you. He seemed energetic and sweet, but why he was so open to you simply coming over was a strange feeling. Juyeon noticed it too, and before you realised, he’d moved to sit between you both.

“Are you jealous?” Juyeon looks at you with a forced smile, shaking his head before having more of his drink and turning his attention to you.

“I have no reason to be,” he answers, and you suppose he’s right though just the same you wish for him to be, “I’m not the jealous type.”

It felt like a lie. Juyeon’s characteristics that made up who he was were all fairly negative and jealousy was one of them. But then he’d have ways in which he showed kindness with gentle touches and you fell into it because those touches were warm and those words were sweet.

“Not like me, right?”

You attempt a joke you both know to be true. You could easily get jealous, because the prospect of having romantic competition made you feel worthless, like you weren’t good enough, and so anger came naturally whenever your worth was threatened.

“Not like you,” he has more of his drink and you drown out the conversation, watching the way your best friend cuts up two lines of cocaine with Sunwoo now, as if he’d made a quick natural friend and you’re just at the very edge being forgotten. It’s the feeling of unimportance and being replaced that bothers you, and instead you focus on the fire right in front of you. It’s enchanting and beautiful, tempting enough to fall into because it’s warm and inviting.

It’s dangerous too and that isn’t lost on you, but you still lean a little closer, being careful to push your hair back whilst you watch the flames. You’re in a little world, one none of them are in and you honestly don’t think they ever really noticed how close you’d gotten to the fire, which ends up being the big mistake.

You’re not sure what happens, but the flames make a crackling sound and the fire rises so incredibly close to your face, you feel the heat sting at your skin. It sends you into high alert and panic, causing you to scream and turn around just quick enough to avoid it burning your face. Unfortunately, the wind and your hair among the flames causes the strands to start burning.

“What the fuck, Eric!”

“We need to put it out!” Chanhee. That’s his voice and the only one you can make out. The others barely seem to move and you’re not sure if it’s shock or because they don’t care, but Chanhee is genuinely the only one moving at first.

You can feel the way it hurts your skin, but it all happens so fast that the pain barely registers with the way the back fabric of your dress singes.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Chanhee, again, but then you feel another force that sends you falling forward and the sound of a fire extinguisher.

“YOU’RE NOT MEANT TO USE THAT ON A PERSON!”

So many voices, complete panic and you barely register any of it. You feel dazed, nearly unresponsive and it’s likely the shock settling in that just leaves you numb to it. At least the fire seems to be out, given the darkness that had cast over all of you. Your skin feels cold at first, until you feel a heavy blanket over your shoulder and Juyeon crouches in front of you.

He’s speaking to you, but you really have no idea what he’s saying. Even when he cups your cheeks, it’s completely lost on you. Nothing he says is audible and for just a brief second you wonder if maybe you’d entirely lost your hearing, though you don’t see why you would and you’d heard voices just seconds before.

You feel him touch your hair and you’re relieved more than anything to know it’s still there at first. The very relief of knowing that makes you want to cry, but you refuse to show any of them that you were scared.

“She needs a hospital. Turn the boat around,” you hate attention like this. When you’re vulnerable, it’s not what you want.

“How bad is it…?”

You sound hoarse, but Juyeon doesn’t get time to answer because Eric intervenes with panicked eyes. He looks so genuinely guilty, like a kicked puppy and you know almost immediately that deep down it was likely a genuine mistake. Though it didn’t really matter as the damage was done either way, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m really sorry.”

You don’t think you forgive him. Even if he looks sorry, you’re more than a little upset, rightfully so, “I can’t believe you’re so fucking stupid. Who’re you trying to impress, anyway?”

It cuts him, you can tell. That childlike energy that had been there before dies the second you speak to him like he means nothing. Eric looks like he could cry and you’re certain you don’t really care but something about his eyes make you feel guilty. And you don’t do well with guilt.

You force yourself up and away from everyone, pushing past Younghoon harshly because you can see him trying to bite down laughter. You’re near close to slapping him, but you don’t want even more unwanted attention.

You hide away in the bathroom and no one seems to follow you first, locking the door after yourself before stripping down to your underwear, discarding your heels and letting your feet rest bare against the tiled interior. Every bit of sound is slowly coming back, and you seem to be returning to your senses as you cast your eyes outside through the small circular window, seeing the distant city and the water break into aggressive ripples of small waves.

You run your hands through your hair, trying to adjust the mess that it probably was before you realise that certain strands come to an abrupt harsh stop. It feels uneven, shortened and burned and that’s when you first notice the smell that becomes so sharp so suddenly that it overwhelms you.

You open your palm up to be met with charcoals of black burnt hair that you’d broken trying to brush through it with your fingers and now you’re completely certain that you fucking hate Eric. He’d ruined your appearance, and it’s only confirmed when you look in the mirror and are met with something so ugly, you could break the glass in front of you.

So you do. You break down and shatter the mirror because what you see disgusts you. A part of what had made you so feminine and pretty was scorched unevenly, in parts up to your shoulder, and it was so ugly and heart wrenching you could’ve thrown up just remembering what it looked like.

It was so ugly and unattractive and the worst was knowing that everyone else had seen it before you. They had seen it, and said nothing. Juyeon had touched your strands of hair near the root and yet said nothing to indicate that a part of it was missing by the ends of where your hair usually fell.

You can’t take seeing it, and in your slightly intoxicated mind it makes you sink enough that you throw up into the toilet, hating yourself more than you ever had. It would take years to grow back the hair you’d lost, and worst was that you’d have to let go of the length that some strands still held. The ones that went unscathed and were still perfect would be lost just the same.

It was so embarrassing.

Your hand was bleeding, shards of broken glass between the knuckles but you made no attempt to get rid of them. You could’ve been dying and it would’ve meant nothing to you.

A knock on the door snaps you out of your dazed mind but you don’t respond. You hope maybe they’ll go away, but then there’s another knock followed by a third in quick succession, “want a line?”

Chanhee. You laugh at the way he speaks and then you soften because he’s there, standing on the other side and looking for you. So with the little strength you can bother to conjure up, you unlock the door for him.

“Holy shit,” it’s not you being naked that really surprises him, but rather the utter damaged state this room was in, “your parents are gonna kill you.”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that,” you groan, watching your best friend lock the door once more before grabbing a towel and turning on the faucet, the water presumably cold.

“I hear Juyeon’s pissed,” Chanhee starts, and it manages a smile out of you just briefly as he comes over, “Eric feels horrible, though.”

“He should,” you snarl, watching the way Chanhee grabs a pair of tweezers from his purse, disinfecting it with a wipe before grabbing your hand.

“Should I book you a hairdresser?”

You know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but you don’t find it funny. You don’t say anything as he starts to remove some of the glass from your skin, carefully and precise as to not cause you more injury. He seems to get the hint, that you’re not in the mood for anything lighthearted, so he stops and falls silent that only you break after a few minutes.

“I’m ugly, Chanhee.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll get a cute haircut and you’ll be perfect again.”

Even if that were to be true, you’d never be Chanhee. You felt so jealous, the more you thought of it. So much so, that you wanted to hate him. You wanted to tell him how unfair it was, that he didn’t deserve it when you did, but you would never dare to break what made you two so close. You loved him.

“I don’t want a haircut. I want my hair.”

“I know,” but he says it like you should know that it’s not an option. You do know, and it makes you want to die inside.

Another knock and a voice you make out to be Juyeon’s, so you let Chanhee reach over and unlock the door as a familiar figure leans in with a smirk on his face. Maybe it’s seeing you sat here naked, but you turn your head away to avoid looking at him, “ambulance is here. We’ve docked.”

Chanhee finishes getting one more piece of glass out and helps you up, Juyeon handing you your dress and helping you with your shoes, touching your bare legs so carefully that it makes you feel a little shaky. He smiles, looking up at you with sweet gentle eyes that are so unlike him and once again bring in the idea of a motive to your mind, “your mothers gonna kill you for that glass, by the way.”

Everything else after the boat docked had become a blur. You had some mild burns but your now ruined dress had protected most of the flames before they were put out, so most of the marks were faint angry red shades on your back that would likely fade over time if you kept it well treated and applied an ointment to avoid scarring. You’d been grateful that it hadn’t been worse but the state you were in didn’t quite feel better.

Your hand wasn’t broken, but one of the gashes had been pretty bad unbeknownst to you and it had needed five stitches, everything being wrapped up in a bandage as you were told to rest a couple of days.

You’d wanted to rest, but the following morning, your mother had other ideas.

“Juyeon tells me you had an accide- my god, what happened to your hair?”

“I burned it off,” came your response, feeling your blanket being ripped away from you, your bare legs being met with the cold air as you tried to adjust your shirt.

“Why in heaven's name would you ever do that?” God, you could laugh. She clearly didn’t know you, if she ever thought you’d do such a stupid thing intentionally.

“I’ll get it sorted,” though you’d made no attempt at making an appointment. As long as the outside world didn’t see you, you could be as ugly as you wanted.

“You, young lady, are headed to class,” she slaps the bottom of your leg before running over to your beloved curtains, tearing them open and letting the offensive light blind you, “you’ve missed far too much already.”

“I’d rather die than go looking like this,” you mutter, earning you another slap to your skin that makes you sit up sharply and glare at her with such discontent, she must know that you hate her.

“Should’ve made an appointment in the morning then. You can fix it later, but you’re going, now.”

There was no point in arguing. Even with a valid doctor's note, it was pointless. She’d make you go to uni and whatever you said would be entirely without point because it wasn’t valid. It didn’t matter. The best you could do was attempt to look presentable despite your singed hair and then run to your family's go to salon for help right after.

You made sure to wear something revealing. Something hopefully distracting enough so that the hair you’d tied up in a bun, wouldn’t be very noticeable. You actually thought you managed to hide it with fair success, but you had to pull out nearly every trick you knew about a tight ballerina bun to hide most of the damage. The biggest issue was the damaged strands being so short in length sometimes, that they kept falling back out and refusing to lay the way you wanted them to.

Your mother had already left the house by the time you were ready, in a tight mini skirt and a shirt kept together by string in the middle, showing plenty of skin all the way down to your pierced navel. It was just enough to grab attention away from everything else that needed fixing.

Getting to class made you realise just how much people talk. As if the vitriol from Juyeon humiliating you with Changmin’s name hadn’t been bad enough, now everyone seemed to know about your burns and the bandage on your hand didn’t help either. You’d overheard someone say that they thought you’d gone off the rails, making you shove your shoulder against theirs so that they fell off balance.

But that girl hadn’t been the only one to say it. It felt like everyone was looking at you again, like this was high school and your dirty little secrets were all exposed to be mocked and tormented until you well and truly became the off the rails mess that they already claimed for you to be. The looks were horrific, but the fake sympathy in trying to speak to you was worse.

Though you’d truly wanted to lose it when you overheard the sympathy Eric was getting. How sorry he’d been and how it had been such a horrible accident. How bad he felt, that you’d rejected his apology and been so cruel to him. That you were truly a horrible person. Even if it might’ve been true that Eric felt bad, he had hurt you, and yet no one spared any real empathy for you. No one cared.

You had one more class for the day but a long gap in between where you’d need to find something to do, and so you settled on the park nearby with a small lunch and a coffee, having a sip before you reached for the tobacco in your bag.

You still wouldn’t call yourself a smoker, but you could use one now and it was still practice and improvement from the absolute travesty you had rolled before. Besides, you found it peaceful, to sit there and roll a cigarette to then smoke or save for later.

“It’s getting better,” you look up and see Changmin already with a cigarette between his lips, placing it between his fingers to move it down and away from his mouth as he exhales. He’s dressed warm, in a dark sweater and jeans with a coat over both, his eyes staring at your own as he takes you in, “you want help?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I didn’t ask if you needed it. I asked if you wanted it,” you were struggling and he could tell. Your hand still hurt from injuring it and it made rolling even more awkward, so eventually you relented and just shoved the bag of tobacco out for him to take. He sighs and sits next to you, turning his body a bit towards you as he discards his own cigarette entirely in favour of starting over.

“Why’d you waste it?”

“Well, I figured if I offered it to you, you’d refuse it,” he was right, “I’ll roll two.”

Normally you’d be tempted to argue and fight with him using your stuff, but you have no energy and he was kind enough to share with you last time. You watch him, the way his fingers work together to roll the first cigarette, and you can’t say you’re not entranced because you are. The way he does it makes it all seem so easy.

He seals the first cigarette with his tongue before placing it behind his ear, and you swear for the first time you saw a hint of jewellery, “do you have a piercing?”

“I have more than one,” he gets to work on the next one, looking over at you briefly as you try not to stare too obviously. You’d seen the ones on his ear but the one on his tongue had been new to you.

“I never noticed.”

“We don’t really talk,” he hands you your cigarette and you nod in thanks, twisting it between your fingers once to inspect it before placing it between your lips. You end up fiddling with your lighter, huffing in frustration each time it refuses to light. The wind worked against you and it seemed low on lighter fluid already, but still you persisted.

“Here,” his cigarette is lit, and he places the burning side against yours, “just inhale.”

You listen to him and the flames transfer to your cigarette when you do, thanking him again, though you’re not sure why he didn’t just offer you his lighter instead, “I had it.”

“Sure,” you both fall silent again and you must admit it’s getting a little bit annoying to have nothing to really talk about. It seems so pointless, like it holds no real purpose and yet there’s a comfort in just being sat here and clearing your head.

“What did you do with your hand?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t heard?” you don’t believe it. Changmin might not socialise but he does hear about things. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been so wrapped up in the last one. Or maybe that one only reached him because it directly involved him.

“Isn’t it better to hear the truth from you?” he surprises you again. You hadn’t really thought of it that way. In your eyes, people were always quick to believe what they were told from others whether or not it was the truth. Especially from those whose words held more weight simply because of who they were. And if someone like Younghoon, who you suspected, was running around telling people you were insane, they were bound to believe it without fact checking his claims at all.

“I broke a mirror,” he laughs, as if it’s amusing to hear about your screw up and you wonder if it would be worth hitting him again.

“You really are something else, even for a rich person,” you want to know if that surprises him. If he’s as confused by you as you are by him and his strange behaviour. He seems to bite back less in sarcasm today, but he still speaks like he’s unimpressed, unphased by your violent outburst and rather finding it amusing.

You stare at him for a long time, taking in his side profile up close. The way his glasses frame his face, how his dimples aren’t as deep but still there because he’s trying to bite back his amusement in a smile that you find pretty, even if you won’t say it. He takes another drag of his cigarette, then turns his attention back to you, though it quickly falls from your face to your hair as he gestures to it, “and this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair up.”

“You pay attention to things like that?”

“Unintentionally, yes.”

“But you don’t notice it’s burnt?”

“Oh, no, I noticed it,” of course he did. He was probably waiting for the opportunity to tug your hairpins out so he could see the disaster that is your hair. It probably didn’t matter, really, if he saw it, but you liked the belief that you could remain beautiful, at least in someone's eyes, regardless of who they were.

Then again, Changmin might not find you pretty at all.

“I wasn’t meant to come today but my mother told me to. I haven’t been able to fix it,” you’re not sure why you’re honest, especially to him, but he doesn’t really say anything at first while he continues smoking, “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”

“Neither do I,” god, what an asshole. He simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut and accept it, “is it true a freshmen burned it off?”

“So you did hear about it?”

“I saw him getting coddled in the hallway. I think a girl brought him flowers,” of course she did. He gets flowers and you get to drop a couple of hundred at the hairdresser to salvage what’s left. You’re not even sure you want to go at all and be faced with the vitriol.

“I really don’t need our family hairdresser to tell the whole community about my hair being charcoal black because of a drunk night out.”

“You have a family hairdresser?” it’s like it’s the most absurd thing you’ve said, stranger than your hair being burnt by an open flame, or the fact that you smashed a mirror and your mother dragged you out anyway, or the countless other things, actually, that you’d said and he hadn’t really cared to comment on.

“You focus on the wrong things.”

“And all you focus on is superficial at best,” you wonder what he considers the worst, “so you’re not going to get it fixed?”

No, you are going to get it fixed. That’s what you want to tell him, that of course you’re going to drag your ass there right after your final lesson is over. That it’ll be perfect again tomorrow and you will be perfect and you can forget all about it. Maybe you can even forgive Eric if you’re feeling extra generous, although you don’t think you will be.

“I will. I just… have to find another hairdresser. I don’t really know how to do that.”

“Google it?” you grimace, eyeing him strangely yet he looks at you like you have three heads. Like something is seriously wrong with you and you wonder if he’s right or if he just has no concept of the real world.

“I don’t want them to say something.”

“I doubt they care,” Changmin offends you, but he says it nonchalantly and casually as he puts out his cigarette and discards the filtered end, “let me do it.”

“I’d rather die than let you touch me,” it’s a quick answer, snapping back at him with determination because you really would rather sign an early death than let him any closer than he already is just sitting here next to you.

“But I don’t care about how ridiculous you might look,” so he admits you probably look insane. You know better than to believe that he wouldn’t laugh at you, yet you also wonder if maybe that was better than it being spoken around your closed community and bringing embarrassment to your parents for your drunk failings. They didn’t care what you did if it didn’t affect them, yet this might and therefore it became a bigger problem.

“Do you even know how to cut hair?”

“How hard can it be?”

“Absolutely not,” you think that’s the end of it, but you hadn’t known Changmin to be so determined with something such as this, for he seems persistent in making a case for himself as he turns to you fully.

“I think you should think about it.”

“You could make it worse. You have no idea what you’re doing and you hate me too,” he doesn’t disagree with it, though he does seem to think. Perhaps another way of making his case though you really don’t know what could convince you when you had money at your fingertips to even fly halfway across the globe for someone to fix it for you.

Which, actually, might’ve not been a bad idea. No one would know you abroad.

“I wouldn’t cut it any more than where the strands are burnt.”

“No.”

“Fine, at least let me see it.”

“Absolutely not,” he huffs like a child, watching the clouds pass while the sky dims to a depressing grey, indicating rainfall. You don’t need to be laughed at, especially by someone lesser than you.

“I have to go,” you want to ask him how his date went. You remember it now that he goes to leave. Yet you also know not to ask him. The last thing you wanted was his assumption that you might be interested in him, “you can think about it.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Suit yourself, little doll,” he leaves you alone and you simply stay sat with a frown on your face until the raindrops start falling and you’re forced to go inside.

They had all been right. You’d lost your mind, completely, because the hairdresser you had found completely destroyed your ends even more and you refused to let yourself be seen by anyone until it was fixed. Like a dog with his tail between his legs, you drove to university without the intent of actually going to class, but rather waited like a stalker for Changmin to appear at some point, because he had to, right?

It took far longer than you’d hoped, because the first time he had appeared, there were far too many people around for you to give in to his suggestion of doing it himself, but turns out paying for it to have it done professionally hadn’t done much of a difference and had been far from worth it.

The second time he came out, he had his nose in a book and was barely watching where he was going, and you figured it would be the perfect time to step out and talk to him. You’d still dressed up, albeit not as much as you usually might to avoid detection, when you approach him and stand right before him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head not moving up to look at you as he keeps walking. You felt ridiculous chasing him, but you grabbed his shoulder and stopped him in his steps, finally looking up to face you, “oh, it’s you.”

“What do you mean, oh?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. What the fuck happened to your hair?” Changmin asks, seeing that you kept it out but hidden under the hood of your jacket, and he could still see the damaged parts as you’d eventually gotten up mid hair appointment to leave before she could finish and do any worse.

“Someone fucked it up, obviously. Are you stupid?”

“No, but your insults when you want something from me are a poor choice,” you cross your arms, standing straighter to look down on him, heels just tall enough to do so while he adjusts and closes his book, “so, what is it?”

“I… need your help,” fuck, that pains you. It really kicks your ego and confidence to have to ask something of him. Well, not that you had to, but you were refusing the family hairdresser even more now and if Changmin fucked up too, at least his services were free.

“You want my help?”

“You offered it,” you bite back, but he doesn’t seem pleased. If he was taking his offer back, you felt like he should just say so, but instead he was smiling as he lit a cigarette.

“That I did,” he was so cocky, it reminded you of Juyeon, “I guess I could give it a try.”

“You said you would.”

“I said I can do it if you’d like me to try.”

“And I’m telling you to.”

“But you should be asking me.”

“Changmin, you think I haven’t been through enough embarrassing shit because of you? You owe me this fucking favour before I break your neck with my heel.”

He stops entirely, eyeing you up and down briefly before he finally settles on your eyes again. It’s a little intimidating to have him stare at you so intently, but you refuse to show discomfort and stand your ground. He fucking owed you this and you knew that he did. He did owe it to you, at the very least for the rumour involving you and Juyeon.

“Okay, sure. But I’m driving.”

He discards his cigarette and holds out his hand for the key, and you really think he’s joking before he gives you another look telling you to hurry up.

“Are you serious?”

“Think of it as payment,” it’s crazy to you but you ultimately agree. Curse you for not using your driver for one day, but why should you when you weren’t even planning to attend classes. It just left another witness to tell your parents that you had been faltering in the one thing they expected you to do well on.

“I hate you,” his hands hold the key to your Mercedes and he seems content, and you watch as he steps up inside your car so carelessly that it makes you nearly cry out to tell him off.

When you get in, he leans over and places his bag down by your feet and you note that same cologne that had sat on his hoodie that you took so long ago. A creature of habit, whereas you went through various perfumes depending on the type of outfit you were wearing.

“Can you be more careful? The interior is custom.”

“Of course it is,” he adjusts the seat and you realise what a bad idea this really was because everything he changes now, you’ll have to change back, but it was too late. He settled and reversed the car far faster than you would’ve liked, barely looking in his rearview mirror to see if he’d hit someone.

“Do you even know how to drive?”

“It’s an automatic. Even an idiot can drive one. Exhibit A,” he looks at you and you ignore it by looking ahead before he abruptly hits the breaks because someone crosses the parking lot completely unexpectedly, “god, some people just want to die.”

“Do you even have a licence?”

The silence confirms your expected fear and you cannot believe you just put your life in his hands. You wish you could hit the brakes, but he’s turned into the main road and now you’re wondering if you’ve well and truly lost your mind. You can practically hear Chanhee’s voice berating you for the insanity that you’re currently in.

“Where am I going, by the way?”

“I guess my house,” he sighs, and your hand instinctively falls to the wheel to pull him more to the right to avoid the left lane.

“Yeah, and where is that?”

“Oh, right. I’ll write it in the nav,” he scoffs like it’s absurd, but you’re not really in the mood to give instructions and honestly you didn’t think you’d be very good at it. You knew the way well and your mind would naturally think where to turn without saying it outloud.

“You’re driving too fast,” at this point you’d fully accepted your potential demise, because making him pull over seemed like an almost worse idea at this point.

“I thought it was sixty.”

“It’s fifty,” you answer him, and at least he listens and slows down, maybe because being caught meant you’d both be in horrific trouble.

There’s no music and the silence in such close proximity isn’t exactly your idea of fun, but it’s becoming a little more familiar than you’d like to be like this with Changmin. It wasn’t that you liked him or enjoyed his company, but the way you both sat together without speaking had become a little common, at least enough that you found it to be okay.

“This cannot be real,” he mumbles, the gates to your community closed before you hand him the keycard. He looks at it like it’s alien, but he opens the window and reaches for the keypad to open the gate, “I actually hate rich people.”

He doesn’t sound genuine, more baffled if anything as he drives in and over to your house. His eyes just widen more as he parks outside the front steps leading to the massive entrance door, but you’re more relieved that you survived driving as a passenger with someone that had no right to even take you anywhere with a car, “I was gonna say park in the garage but I suppose you can leave it.”

“I think I’m good, yeah.”

You step out with him, taking the key back as soon as he lets it dangle between his fingers for you to take, and you walk in with him and greet one of your cleaners that seems more than a little surprised to see you with someone. Normally you might make an attempt to hide who you were with, but she was nice and didn’t speak often, especially to your parents unless it was work related, so you knew her to not be the type to say something.

You really hoped, anyway, or you were definitely fucked.

“Do you have scissors for cutting hair?”

“I think we do somewhere. I’ll ask someone,” though Changmin doesn’t seem to be listening, because his eyes are cast elsewhere and you notice your little ragdoll perched on the railing and looking at him with curious eyes.

“Oh, look at this little cutie,” he approaches her carefully, holding his hand out gently but she seems more than a little excited, which you find unusual, though maybe she sensed his compliment to stroke her little ego.

“Thought you didn’t like cats?”

“How can I not when I see this little dear, hmm?”

She purrs in response, pushing her head up into his palm as he scratches her ear, and you nearly roll your eyes at seeing her unusual affection. She liked Chanhee, sure, but even that had taken some time, but with Changmin she’s practically on his lap within the first minute.

“Do you have any treats for her?”

“Sure, they’re in my room. Or the kitchen.”

He follows after you, the little lady prancing after him like she’s straight out of the aristocats, elegant in how she moves and so confident in her step. Lady really is a diva.

“They’re on the desk,” you gesture over to the corner and Changmin moves over to find them, but he’s slow and looking around like he’s taking it all in. It leaves you a little vulnerable, only because the way you’ve decorated is a look inside who you are, feminine and expensive, with simple colours and beautiful plants and endless books that are overflowing on your shelf.

“I didn’t know you read.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a pain in my ass. Here you go, darling,” he crouches down, holding out a treat for your cat while you open a window. She seems pleased, tapping his hand for more with her little paw and even you admit it’s a cute display of affection from her.

“I’ll look for the scissors.”

Changmin doesn’t answer, busy being loved by a cat and so you leave them both while on the hunt for some scissors. In the end, you ask one of the cleaners if he’d seen any around while finishing up your parents’ bathroom and to your surprise the search is successful when you go through one of the drawers.

You pass the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, one for Changmin too because you hadn’t asked and you were not prepared to walk back downstairs again in case he wanted some. That, and you brought a packet of gummy bears, not for you but him, and then came back upstairs to see Changmin still on the floor waving a string with a little tiger on the end that Lady was chasing relentlessly.

“I found them,” he looks up at you and she takes the opportunity to pounce on the toy, dragging it between her claws as he tries to push against her, “I also have water.”

“Voss?”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t that overpriced tap water?”

“Tap water tastes like blood. This is citrusy,” you hold it out to him, and he takes it despite his apprehension.

“Put a lemon in it,” he says, before adding, “and why do you know what blood tastes like?”

“Why do you not?”

He gets up while you rummage around your room, moving your chair right in front of your mirror to give you a view of what he’s doing, “I might need wine, on second thought.”

“I’m not going to ruin your hair any more than it already is,” at least he acknowledges the horrific state it was in, but you knew that, “did the hairdresser cut it that weirdly?”

“I didn’t let her finish. Look at this,” you show him one of the butchered strands and even Changmin looks more than a little shocked that a professional had done such a horrific job.

“I’ll have to cut quite a lot. You realise that, right?”

You did. Of course you knew your once beautiful long hair would be no longer than right by your shoulder and that fucking shattered your heart and confidence, but you could not keep it like this either and magically having longer hair again wasn’t happening without a wig or extensions.

“I won’t cut before you tell me it’s fine but a lot of it is still burnt up to about… here,” he gestures to your collarbone, though he’s careful not to touch you. Maybe he knows you won’t like it and he’s right, you wouldn’t like it, but you were surprised by his way of keeping boundaries.

“If you manage to do this well I’ll buy your groceries for a week,” Changmin perks up, like he hadn’t expected it but they were words he was happy to hear. Almost like he needed it.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” and now your mind wandered again, because he’d insisted he had at least some money and yet he made it sound like he was struggling just to buy some food. Though you try not to dwell on it as you grab your hairbrush to gently get the knots out of your hair.

“I really don’t want you to cut more than you need to.”

“I already told you I won't,” he’s getting frustrated, you can tell, but you want to make sure he gets it. If he didn’t listen to you, it would be so much worse and you’d be absolutely destroyed, and Changmin likely wouldn’t care because it didn’t affect him.

“Okay, so I have a plan,” he says, and even those words cause you worry but you’re willing to hear him out before you both commit, “I’ll just cut all the long hair that’s left up until slightly above your chest and then I’ll actually be neater and more precise with what’s left to work with that’ll get rid of all the burnt hair.”

Not a terrible plan, actually. It’s not like he’d have to be neat cutting up to a certain point if it wasn’t going to stay. It would be a waste of both your time if he did it that way, “okay, we’ll try that.”

“Do you want any music?” Changmin asks you, your cat jumping up onto the bed to perch herself on the edge and watch the way you both move and speak. You wonder if she can tell you both dislike each other, or if she thinks maybe that’s a friend. It makes you curious to know how cats think, but that was a whole other thought process that you were honestly too sober to consider really having.

“I can turn some on,” you connect your phone to your speakers, pressing the shuffle button and leaving it on one of the coffee tables you had next to the mirror full of perfumes and some accessories.

You take a seat and place a towel that you’d gotten around your back and a little towards the front of your body, adjusting your back so it’s straight as Changmin stands behind you. You watch him in the mirror, the way he studies your hair and seems to be contemplating on how to best approach it. It makes you nervous, and once again you’re wondering when you became this insane.

“Okay, I’ll just start cutting.”

“Okay.”

You both fall silent, though you’re left still staring at him in the way you both reflect before you amongst a few polaroids stuck on your mirror. Your heart picks up when you feel his fingers brush the back of your neck as he takes some of your hair between his fingers, but you push it away and try to focus on something else. Anything else.

The first strands of hair fall and you feel like crying. You see the way they end up on the floor, how they lay there and you feel terrible. It feels like you’re ripping away a big piece of yourself and you didn’t wish for it to ever happen.

“I can’t believe Eric did this to me.”

“Wasn’t it an accident?”

“I don’t care,” you snarl, crossing your arms and watching him cut away more and more pieces. For a second you wonder if he’s cut too much but he seems to know how to read your mind because he brings what’s left of it to the front of your body so that you can see its length, most of it the promised length he’d agreed on with you aside from the bit of hair that was already ruined or made shorter before he ever got to it.

“If it helps, I think short hair might suit you,” might. Not that it would, that it might, and that really doesn’t sit well with you, because what if it doesn’t?

“Short hair isn’t pretty on women,” you tell him, but he looks entirely perplexed at your statement, as if he finds it to be absurd.

“According to who? You?”

“Everyone,” a lot of men, mostly, and some women. Juyeon didn’t like it either, you knew that. He’d told you once when one of your female acquaintances had cut her hair and he looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“I think some women look better with short hair,” he tells you but you don’t really buy it. Then again, you don’t really know Changmin’s type, and once again you’re reminded of his date. Maybe you could ask now, right?

“Did your date have short hair?”

Subtle. You could laugh at yourself, laugh at how pathetic you’d become and how Changmin was often the reason for your downfall. Of course he was, and you cursed yourself for ever agreeing to kick him out of that forsaken party months ago.

“She did not, no. Unless you consider a little over the shoulder short.”

“I do,” he sighs again and maybe you want to smile because honestly, it is a little funny at this point, how quick he is to be annoyed and how quick you are to be the same, “did it go well?”

“Do you really want to know about my dating life?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” you lie, because honestly you were really curious to know. You wanted to know what she looked like, if she was beautiful, more so than you.

“It was fine. Didn’t really have much chemistry,” he tells you, adjusting his glasses briefly as he dusts off some of your cut hair from your back.

“You mean like sexually?”

“What? No. I mean in general. Chemistry isn’t just sex,” to you, it was most of it. At least you believed it to be. Good chemistry came from desire and lust, which is why you and Juyeon had worked so great when you were in love. You wanted to answer, maybe even defend yourself where he didn’t know you had to, but instead you kept your mouth shut, “I’m going to cut more now.”

“A lot?”

“I think if I play my cards right, it’ll just about be touching your shoulder,” he answers you and you agree, sighing as you adjust the way you sit again and watch him in the mirror.

You watched the way he concentrated, how he bit his lower lip and occasionally adjusted his glasses if he leaned forward too much. He seemed so intent on doing well that it calmed you just a little. At least he would try, you assumed, and all you’d have to do in return was get his groceries.

You were both silent for a long time, simply watching his hands move between strands of hair, trying not to tug too much or break off more hair with what was burnt. The music wasn’t overbearingly loud, and your cat was soft asleep now, sprawled out comfortably in your duvet. It was all very peaceful, strangely so.

You came to realise even more in such silence that Changmin really was just so pretty.

“You’re staring at me,” he tells you, not once making eye contact with you and yet he’d caught you.

“What am I meant to look at?”

“I was only telling you.”

“Does it bother you?”

He stops, meeting your eyes in the mirror and suddenly you look away, “no, I don’t really care.”

You both fall silent again and you watch as he fixes the broken ends and frowns when it doesn’t seem to be going how he wants it to. Seeing him concentrate is a little amusing, because his nose occasionally scrunches and he lets out a little breath of air in annoyance when it just doesn’t work.

“Did you ruin it?”

“Do you really want the truth?”

“Changmin, what the fuck did you do?”

He laughs, and it sounds so happy and amused you turn around and hit his arm, making him jump back and hunch over even more to clutch his stomach while he chuckles. You want to know what the hell is so funny when he’s potentially done worse to you, but he doesn’t say a single word.

“Changmin!”

“It’s nothing. I just find your lack of faith in me hilarious,” your arms cross and some of your hair falls to your face, but to your surprise it seems shockingly neat.

“I was just going to say that I was right. Short hair suits you,” you heart lurches forward again and you’re stunned on what to say. It’s clear to you that it’s a compliment and maybe an attempt at making you feel far better, but all it manages to do at first is make you feel more vulnerable. He’s the first to see you like this and he’s not turning away from it or insulting you the way you would’ve insulted yourself. He’s kinder to yourself at this moment than you would ever be, and it doesn’t even feel forced.

You don’t know what to say.

“You don’t need to say that. We’re not friends,” he looks exasperated, like he’s near given up on ever being kind to you and you hope he truly stops trying. You don’t want to be friends, and while you’ll admit he’s not been as bad as you might’ve initially presumed, you would never want to speak of this after.

“I think it’s nearly done.”

“Are you sure?” Changmin looks at you through the mirror, his eyes finding yours so quickly it makes you stop and stare back at him with strange interest.

“Mhmm, where’s your hairbrush?” you hand it to him and he thanks you, brushing through the strands with a gentle touch you’ve never even given yourself. He’s so careful, like he truly doesn’t want to hurt you, and you’re not really sure when that became important to you but it makes you smile, “I think I should change majors.”

You know he’s teasing though his confidence leaves you curious. From what you can see, it isn’t terrible, but you have yet to see the full result and it’s scary to realise that your hair no longer reaches very far. You’re not even sure how the hell you’re going to style it when you have to have it up, or want to. In the end, maybe you would need extensions.

“Do you have any hair oil?”

“I can’t believe you know what that is,” you get up, intentionally ignoring the mirror to stare back as you move to your bathroom, rummaging through one of the drawers before you find the serum you’re looking for, bringing it over to him, “here.”

He nods, standing in front of you and you don’t make an attempt to move. You let him reach for your hair behind your ear, bringing it forward between his delicate fingers with the oil you’d brought him, bringing it to your short ends and you simply let him. He’s never been this close to you, you don’t think, but it surprises you how it doesn’t make you grimace and want to turn away. Changmin’s in your space, but he isn’t invasive with it either, so very careful with his movements like he’s wondering when you’ll actually shrink away.

“Done,” okay, fuck, now you’d have to look. It would either make you want to curl in on yourself or you’d be content to deal with it, even if you hated the short hair either way. You were already prepared to not like it, but you turn around and it hits you again.

“I hate it,” Changmin’s face briefly falls, maybe with worry or just genuine upset because it sounds like an insult towards him. It’s the very first time where your heart sinks because you feel bad for making him believe he’d done something horrific when he’d helped you. He looks so genuinely pained, almost like he’s afraid that you’ll turn violent for what he’d done, and how truly sorry he looks makes you feel awful.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, turning back to him so you can avoid the mirror, and you make an effort to look into his dark brown eyes framed by his glasses, the softness in them not going unnoticed by you. The way he looks like he’s ready to walk out with a knife in his back.

“No, I just… I hate having my hair short,” you attempt, awkwardly reaching for his arm in an attempt to make it better, but it’s awkward for you both and so you remove your touch and look back at him instead, “I think you did great, Changmin.”

“You can be honest.”

“I am. I think it’s really neat,” which was true. He’d cut it precise and straight just along your shoulder and nothing seemed out of place. It was hard to believe he’d never done this before.

“I should get going,” there’s a voice in the back of your mind offering him to stay a little longer, but your mother could be home at any point and you knew very well that she wouldn’t like Changmin at all, even if he’d done you a favour.

“Wait…” he stops, his jacket just pulled over one of his sleeves as he looks at you, “what about your groceries?”

“Forget it, it’s fine,” he’s upset. Something is on his mind and you want to know what it is. You don’t really believe him to be the type to be so hung up on one of your insults. He’d never been before, and some had been far worse than this, and yet he’d never been so quiet towards you.

“No, I think I should,” you reach for your purse and while you can tell he wants to leave, he doesn’t walk out. He waits for you to gather your things and then stares at you.

“I really don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity. You cut my hair,” he looks like he wants to agree with you. Like he knows that he did and yet he doesn’t really want to acknowledge it.

“Fine.”

It was already late in the evening when you got to the store, not realising how time had slipped away from you both while you were at home. You’d thought Changmin had been quick, but reality had been different and time had simply flown away from you.

“This place is expensive.”

“Is it?” you shrug, never having thought of it as you step out of the car, waiting for him to follow suit though he hesitates for far longer before he finally comes out of the car, approaching you with apprehension, “does it matter? You’re not paying for it.”

Changmin huffs, nails digging into his knuckles while he stares ahead at the store in front of you. You weren’t ready to admit to him that you hadn’t done groceries in years because it was always done for you, and you were not going to admit that the corner store when you were missing some snacks was as far as shopping for food went for you.

“I don’t need you to spend money on me.”

“I doubt I’ll notice it’s gone,” he scoffs, clearly unimpressed as he walks with you. You don’t like it, because it feels like he’s looking down at you again, like you’re lesser than him when that has never been the case. You don’t understand the issue or why it should even concern him if you’re spending your allowance on him, but for some reason it does.

“You realise the problem with that, right?”

“What problem?”

His kind eyes are gone, replaced with the ones you know far better. The eyes that judge you, that see you as frustrating and annoying, the ones that hate you and think you’re unimportant. You hate that gaze, the way he looks at you, and yet it doesn’t go away, nor does it fade in intensity, even while you watch him grab a shopping cart and step inside because you simply refuse to do it yourself.

“What would you like?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he starts, clearly in thought before he adds, “I need cat food.”

It catches you off guard. Changmin feels selfless, in that regard. How his first thought for what he needs isn’t for him at all but rather his pet. It makes you look at him differently, even just for a moment.

“That’s at the back.”

He follows you, completely silent and now it feels awkward again. It’s almost amazing how quickly you both revert back to this.

“What does he eat?”

“He likes tuna,” he reaches for something, a packaged box of cat food with an assortment of different flavours and you grimace.

“Is that good for him?”

“It’s all I can afford,” he snaps back, putting it in the cart but you don’t seem pleased. If he had a cat, he should at least put in the effort to feed him well. You’d never understand pet owners who practically fed Mcdonald’s to them in jelly form.

“I’m paying for it.”

“And I’m not changing his diet for a week or two just because it’s not on my dime,” well, you lost that argument, albeit begrudgingly because you didn’t agree with it.

“Can I at least choose some treats for him?”

“Do whatever you want, princess,” you freeze up, briefly reminded of Juyeon and his voice and the way he calls you princess. How that’s his thing to do, not Changmin’s, nor anyone else’s. You didn’t want anyone else to call you that, yet you were so frozen in place by surprise that you couldn’t tell him to stop. Instead, you fall silent and pick something out for him that you hope he’ll like, placing it in the cart before you follow Changmin to another aisle.

You don’t speak to him for a while, and it’s so awkward to watch him find random things, and even worse when he finds something only to put it back because the price makes him do a double take. And each time you make an attempt to offer to get it anyway or tell him it really doesn’t make a difference to you, he gives you a look of such discontent, like he wants you to keep your mouth shut and it surprises even you that you do.

You were stubborn and weren’t one to back down, and yet you would find it so embarrassing if an argument ensued between you both in public. It was bad enough that you were both together with the potential risk of someone you knew seeing it, but even worse if you brought on that attention through your disagreements when you could’ve avoided it.

“I think I’m done,” you look down at all the items and frown, wondering how the hell that’s meant to last a week. It makes you think again, if he really could make this last for a while or maybe he just really didn’t want to live off your dime and you’re not so sure what bothered you more.

“Do you not eat?”

“Coming from you?”

Another insult and it leaves you angry, but you also wonder if he’d noticed. If he had, you wondered how. If he was simply attentive or watching you constantly when you weren’t looking like some creep, “I eat.”

“I’d hope so,” you want this evening to be over. It would be nice to go home and curl up in your bed, to maybe call Chanhee and hear your best friend’s voice, to maybe text Juyeon to get a goodnight that was kind and sweet, to maybe ask Hyunjae if he was planning a party any time soon so that you’d have something new to look forward to and redeem yourself and your reputation.

“There’s nothing else you want?”

“Nope,” you look down at all he’d chosen again and it just doesn’t sit right with you, but you don’t say anything else. It’s none of your business, how he chooses to consume his meals or what his motive or intentions are in not taking advantage of you buying everything for him, but it feels like an insult to you and your money that he’s not using it properly.

It also bothers you, how he’d seemed enthused earlier at the prospect of you getting groceries for him, how he’d even laughed while doing your hair and how when he'd smiled it even reached his eyes, only to stand here with him now and see the way his eyes seem lifeless, how his smile has faded and he seems so miserable and over being around you.

“Fine,” is your answer, cold just like him as you both go to the check out, paying for all his things whilst he packs them up. You’re both so silent, the woman scanning all his items gives you both a look, as if she knows you’re both fighting and can feel the tension between you both.

You don’t end up spending much at all, far less than you’d expected, and yet when you try to pay, Changmin steps up to you, “I’ll just get it.”

“No, I want to get it,” you push him away from you, but he surprises you in his strength and resistance, barely moving an inch while you try to tap your watch against the card machine.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I said I would!” you snap and he finally stops fighting you, maybe in his shock because you’ve raised your voice publicly, but you manage to pay and the woman gives him a sympathetic look with kind eyes as if to tell him she’s sorry for your behaviour.

It’s silent as you both go to the car but you can feel his anger radiate off him. You already know he might snap, the question is what his anger will look like. You’re not afraid of it or Changmin, because while you don’t know him well, you don’t believe he’d hurt you in frustration. But you do wonder what he’ll say, if anything at all.

You try to ignore him by drowning it all out with music, occasionally glancing over at him though he’s on his phone not paying attention to you. It was like having a random strange man in your car, one that wouldn’t take any time to get to know who he was even with, but you supposed that was better than the alternative.

“I don’t know your address,” you tell him eventually, realising you were just heading back to your place when you should very likely be going a whole other direction.

“Drop me anywhere. I’ll take the bus.”

“I’m already driving,” he sighs, but he doesn’t fight you either, reaching over to the touch screen in the centre of your car to find the navigational system so that he can type in his address. You knew the area by name, though you’d never done more than pass it by. When you were younger, your parents had insisted on avoiding places such as the one you were now going to, for it was full of criminal activity and rather dangerous at night. At least so they said.

“Thank you for helping me,” it takes a lot for you to say it, so you hope at the very least he’ll realise how difficult it is for you and to appreciate that you managed to say it anyway. He doesn’t react at first, looking outside into the dark, up at the city lights and the way everything reflects, but eventually he pays attention to you again when the trees get boring and a droplet of rain falls onto the window.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah but… you didn’t laugh at me.”

“There was nothing to laugh at,” he made things difficult. It was hard to speak to him, sometimes moreso, because he just seemed so indifferent when you didn’t want him to be. You also knew him to be different, just sometimes, because you’d had little glimpses of it, and you wondered where they went when he stopped smiling.

“Juyeon would’ve found it hilarious.”

“I’m not Juyeon,” he interrupts angrily, this time turning his head to look at you properly and it distracts you. You were near certain though you’d gotten no real confirmation that they didn’t like each other at all, and yet his instant protest made it far more evident than you’d presumed it to be.

“You make him sound like a bad person.”

“If he would’ve laughed at you, then isn’t he?”

No. You want to say no. Juyeon was flawed but not bad. He was always so kind to you, until the moments in which he wasn’t but you knew how to ignore those for the good things you got. But then you wondered why you’d broken up at all if he was what you wanted. It was hurting your head to think about it, to think about Juyeon was always so complicated and painful, yet here you were again wondering if you could ever have him back.

“He’s not that bad.”

“Right,” you’re not sure why you wanted him to fight with you. To tell you you’re wrong, that Juyeon was fucking terrible and destroyed every little bit of confidence within you so that he could mold it back together into the perceived beauty that he wanted. Until you were created to be only his.

You’re not sure why you want Changmin to say it, because you know you’ll resist him anyway.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, really. I just don’t get it. I’ll never understand wanting to be hurt by someone you think should love you,” you fall silent first. You want to defend Juyeon but you’re not sure how to do it without sounding pathetic.

“He does love me,” Changmin doesn’t say anything else. He rolls down your car window and lights a cigarette without even asking if he can though you say nothing about it. Maybe you might normally, but you stop yourself this time because your thoughts are muddled and you’re not sure you can even really think.

“It’s just here,” he breaks you out of your thoughts and you park just a bit down the road where there’s space, watching him get out of the car but you stay put at first. You feel a little numb, frozen even, though when he opens the trunk of the car, you finally snap out of it and follow after him.

“You don’t need to help me,” you don’t listen to him, grabbing one of the bags before shutting the back of your car and looking at him expectantly, “you’re not coming inside.”

“Fine.”

You’re a little disappointed. Mostly because your curiosity has grown and you really want to meet his stray cat, but Changmin seems determined to keep you away from the little furball, “next time then.”

He seems as surprised as you by your words, although deep down you think you both know they’re not meant. You likely won’t ever be here again, and so the final steps to the front door of the apartment complex is all you’ll ever get a glimpse of into his life. You wonder how he lives, what it looks like, if it’s neat or cluttered, dark or bright.

You wonder if his interior reveals his interests and hobbies, or if it’s monotone and hard to decipher. You realise you wonder so much in this moment, about Changmin and who he is, what he’s really like away from what you see. But maybe what’s inside is too vulnerable for him to reveal, that he keeps it to himself because it feels safer.

You wonder even if just for a moment, what it would be like to get to know him beyond you both standing here in the light rain.

“Well, thank you for the groceries,” you hold the last bag out to him for him to take and he does, leaving you to stand there with no real purpose other than to look at him.

“Yeah… of course,” you don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve forgotten how to formulate a sentence and it feels suffocating to stand here with him. You really want to leave, though not because you detest Changmin in the way you might sometimes believe, but rather because it feels so strange to just stand there with him, with no real purpose or gain out of it, “goodnight Changmin.”

He nods, reaching for his key rather awkwardly and you’d help if it didn’t mean reaching into the pocket of his jacket. You watch him struggle though he manages eventually, turning only briefly before he ultimately sighs, “I should walk you to the car.”

You want to ask why until you remember what your parents had said. Maybe they were right, that it really was unsafe and Changmin knew it too, “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t care,” he puts his bags down in the hall right next to the door, letting it fall shut after him as he comes back down the steps to where you stand to begin the short journey back to your car. It’s so awkward between you both, so painfully silent and you think back to the woman at the grocery store again, the way she’d stared at you both.

“Well, I survived the walk to my car,” you think you see a faint smile on his face, but you don’t want to comment on it in case he notices and lets it fade away again, “goodnight Changmin. For real this time.”

Changmin smiles. He genuinely smiles and his dimples show on his cheeks enough to make you want to mirror a similar upturn of your lips. It’s contagious, and he stands there as you shut the door though let your window down just a little in case he wants to say anything else to you.

At first, you don’t think he’s going to. You think he’s going to let you leave but when you start the car, he leans his arms against the opened window and looks up at you again, carefully, as if his eyes are searching for something within your own and you wonder if your cheeks look as warm as they suddenly feel.

“Get home safe, little doll,” you want to answer but you’re left completely stunned by him. The wave of emotions you go through in his company can’t be quite good for you. It makes you feel vulnerable and a little confused and you can do nothing to help it. It’s simply there, every single feeling is right at the surface and you can’t hide it.

It makes you feel so exposed, enough that your words get caught in your throat and you have to simply drive away, seeing him in your rearview mirror, and you hope he gets inside and off the street if it really is as bad as you’d been told here.

You don’t mean to do it, but after a few minutes you turn around just to check that he’d gone inside, slowing down when you don’t see him anymore, nor do you see the groceries he’d placed down just inside when he’d chosen to walk you back to your car.

Which meant he was okay, and you could go home.

You’re at another one of Juyeon’s parties and you’ve had a little too much to drink. You don’t know what time it is, nor are you sure on where you’re even going. It’s disorienting for you to even walk, dizzying in hallways you’re familiar with and yet you can’t make out where you are. Eventually you give up and try to roll a cigarette, but you swear you’re seeing double and can’t even imagine the state you’re in.

Wondering if you look like a disaster, you try to see if you recognise anyone, though you’re alone aside from a couple making out not too far away from you. It bothers you a little, but you don’t want to bring their attention towards you and instead remain silently sat on the hardwood floor, beautifully dark and expensive. The music is still loud so you figure you must still be close to the main living room but you can’t be sure.

“Little princess, I’ve been trying to find you,” Juyeon’s worried voice breaks you out of whatever daze you’re in, looking up to see him stand there in his dress shirt that clings tight to his thin waist. He’s beautiful, of course, and you become aware of the state you must look like, now that something so gorgeous is in front of you.

What is happening to you?

“Am fine,” you mumble, wanting to close your eyes as much as you want to go outside to have a cigarette.

“You look awful,” you know. He doesn’t need to tell you, and yet when he does it stings deep and makes you wish he hadn’t said anything at all. You wish for just a moment that he’d lie to you and tell you otherwise, in a way that makes you think that the opposite might be true.

You want Juyeon to tell you that you’re pretty.

“I know,” he stares at you, silently first before he crouches down to your level. Your eyes meet and his are dark but pretty, a certain glazed spark that makes you want to kiss him, but you don’t.

“I can take you to my room,” you nod, holding your hand out to him so he can help you to your feet, and you stumble into his chest when gravity decides to not be in your favour, “when did you turn into such a drinker?”

You’re not sure, really, what had made you drink so excessively tonight, but Juyeon knew that you drank and could drink a lot so the question still takes you aback. Does he think you’ve gone off the rails?

“Am not…” though your lack of coordination and the fact that you feel increasingly ill from being intoxicated seems to suggest otherwise. Remembering how much you’ve had would be impossible to decipher so you wouldn’t even attempt it.

“Here… you should shower first.”

“Don’t wanna…” as if you’d trust yourself to even stand upright in the shower, but Juyeon seems just as persistent as you.

“I’m not letting you in my bed in this state,” you scoff, thinking it’s unbelievable that his first concern would be his silken bed sheets though simultaneously you know you’d be just the same. No way you’d ever let someone this drunk on your mattress with the chance that they’d be sick. You understood perfectly, and yet it still made you angry.

“Why’d you care so little about me?”

Juyeon doesn’t say anything first, leading you to the bathroom and you sit against the door, watching him move around without his attention ever going to you. It almost confirms the question, that he’s so indifferent and careless because you’re not worth even worrying about.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?”

You’re getting angry and it shows, pushing your body up with all the strength you can possibly find in your body, Juyeon catching you the moment you threaten to fall back to the floor. Even if he caught you, he seems to push your body away from him, like he doesn’t want you any closer and it kills something in you to have him act this way towards you when he’d been so sweet before.

“Why’re you doing this?”

“You should go home. I’ll get Chanhee,” normally, he would've let you stay. Juyeon would let you stay in his bed and the fact that he isn’t even offering it makes your heart sink deep, a heavy weighted feeling in your chest that’s just equally as hollow. Your heart is breaking and he doesn’t seem to care at all, nor does he seem to care for the consequences.

You stand completely alone, looking around the bathroom before you get a burst of energy that has you looking for any remnants of cocaine in any of his drawers. Juyeon hid it well, just in case the cleaners rummaged more than he’d requested, because he did not need anything to get back to his parents in regards to some of his more worrying behaviour. Unfortunately, you come up entirely empty and the door opens to you surrounded by a mess of his things.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Juyeon is so angry, you truly want to fear him with how he looks at you, but Chanhee and Hyunjae both stand there too, with Hyunjae even moving to block Juyeon’s body from you. You’re not sure why he does it, but to know he seems more concerned for you than the man you loved brought a new pain to your chest that really made you want to cry. He was so careless and it hurt.

“I’ll just take her home- don’t,” Chanhee glares at Juyeon when he makes an attempt to move towards you, and you’re grateful for your best friend when he helps you back up, albeit you have no way of really focusing in on him, your vision blurry and tired.

“Did she take anything?” Hyunjae. You think it’s Hyunjae, his voice soft and gentle, sounding entirely sober and you wonder if he’d had anything to drink at all. Usually he did, a bottle always famously in hand yet he seemed so okay now, you couldn’t imagine it.

“Don’t know,” cold. His voice sounds so cold and careless, it’s the only thing you can focus on. You can’t pay attention to Chanhee holding your body up or the fact that Hyunjae is right in front of you. You don’t even notice.

“It’s like she’s been drugged,” Chanhee. It’s Chanhee, and he sounds more angry than Juyeon, though for an entirely different reason. He’s concerned for you, but in a tone you’re not familiar with.

“Just get her out then.”

“She’s about to pass out, Juyeon.”

“I don’t care, Chanhee.”

Your vision is spotted and you start to think that maybe Hyunjae’s question has merit. You’d had plenty to drink but in your mind it hadn’t been enough to act like this. Yet you were so out of it, so unaware and so ready to sink back to the floor where your heart already lay in pieces.

“I’ll carry her. Let’s just go,” you can’t make out the voice anymore. You can barely make anything out as you feel yourself being lifted up onto someone’s back. He’s warm and strong, a cologne you recognise but not familiar enough with for it to belong to Chanhee. If it’s not your best friend and it isn’t Juyeon, it had to have been Hyunjae.

You hope it’s Hyunjae. He’s the one you’d trust the most after the two other men in the room with you.

You don’t remember falling asleep nor do you remember waking up, but there’s a sharp cold breeze and wind blowing through your short cut hair, earrings swaying with every step of the man who’s carrying you.

“Should we take her to the hospital?”

“I think she just needs to sleep,” you think that’s Hyunjae. You hope it is. He’s so comfortable to hold and so warm if that’s the case.

“I can’t believe Juyeon’s such an ass he can’t even let her crash in his bed.”

“I’m gonna talk to him about that,” the voice closest to you tells your best friend. At least you presume it to be. Eventually you let your eyes reopen, nuzzling deeper against Hyunjae’s shoulder once you confirm it really is him.

“You’re awake,” your best friend looks at you with a concerned gaze that has you wanting to turn away. You don’t like that look of pity and concern for your state. You’d much rather ignore the mess you are in favour of pretending it never happened.

“Hi pretty,” Hyunjae says, turning his head slightly to look back at you. You have to admit it’s incredibly nice to walk with them like this though you’re not sure why they didn’t just get your driver or one of their own, “we’re nearly at my place”

“Mhmm, why didn’t we uber?”

“Figured you could use the fresh air. It’s not much further,” Hyunjae answers, Chanhee walking in silence with you both.

“You’re really sweet Hyunjae,” you feel him laugh, the vibrations in his chest reaching you and it makes you smile against him. It’s nice, the way he laughs, the way it reaches deep in his chest and sounds so low and carefree.

“That I am, darling.”

You make it to Hyunjae’s place not long after and you’re not really sure what happens beyond that. You think you remember Chanhee asking if he could stay in the bathroom with you while you shower, just in case you fall or hurt yourself, and you do remember agreeing and even telling him to leave the door open in case Hyunjae had to come in to help.

After that, it becomes a little more muddled, though you do get a change of clothes from Hyunjae that swallow you whole because he’d already warned you ahead of time that it was too large for him too, and then you’re curled up in the centre of his bed with both your friends on either side of you.

You’re turned facing Chanhee, far less space between you and your best friend than you and Hyunjae, though Hyunjae had insisted on keeping a larger distance because he didn’t want you to feel weird about sharing a bed with him. He was right, it was a little weird at first to be in bed with him, but you got used to it quickly because you think he made a joke and you know you laughed and then you must’ve fallen asleep before they followed suit.

And suddenly you didn’t mind it at all.

You swear you’d been hungover for two days after that cursed party at Juyeon’s house. When you had first woken up in Hyunjae’s bed, you’d still felt drunk, and that drunk feeling turned into being hungover with a throbbing headache and the following day it still persisted. It had persisted but you needed to catch up on a lot of studying, having put it on the back burner long enough that soon your parents would notice and say something, or worse, take your allowance from you.

So you found yourself back at the library, overdressed to compensate and hide how absolutely shit you felt from the amount you’d had to drink, trying to find somewhere to sit. You decided to sit on a table far in the corner, away from everyone yet still within sight of the main area, opening your laptop up and grabbing one of your many notebooks and one of your textbooks.

You think an hour goes by when you briefly leave to grab a coffee from the cafe just down the street, coming back with a warm drink and another painkiller down your throat because the headache persisted and you had at least a few more hours to study before you could tell yourself it was enough.

It hadn’t even been a minute since you’d sat when a shadow of a person stood across from you, completely still first as if debating before he speaks, presumably towards you, “you don’t mind, right?”

You raise your head to see Changmin with a coffee from the same place you’d just been to, his hair wet from rain and his glasses a little slanted, his hoodie too large for his body and covering even his palms to imitate little paws.

“I guess it’s fine,” he sits diagonally to you, adjusting his glasses and you just stare as he gets his books and a notebook out, full of coloured little tabs and sticky notes. It was colourful, unexpectedly so, and very messy in a way. You wondered how he learned anything like that, but maybe he had a method.

“You got home okay last week?”

It’s a question directed towards you but it takes a minute for you to process it while you were in a daze, blinking out of it and focusing on him properly again, the way his hands rest under his chin, two of his fingers twisting one of his rings.

“Well, I’m here, right?”

He nods, having some of his coffee before he starts to write something. You think that’s all he’ll say, so you turn back to what you’re doing and try to focus on literally anything but him. He was such an easy distraction, and yet he did nothing to be that.

“Are you hungover?” Shit.

Were you really that obvious, or was Changmin just that good at guessing? You honestly couldn’t tell, and you weren’t sure what you favoured less.

“I look like shit, don’t I?” Changmin surprises you when he smiles, not in a way that tells you he agrees but in a way that tells you he’s amused. Like he genuinely finds it funny that that was your conclusion to his question.

“Is that what I said?” Well, no, you supposed not, but it surely felt like it first when he’d posed the question, “you just look a little out of it.”

You were. God, you were so fucking over everything and you couldn’t fully describe or explain what was happening to you. Something was, but you couldn't control it nor did you control your feelings or outcomes of the situations you put yourself in when you didn’t need to be in them.

“I am, yeah,” he opens the lid of his coffee, as if trying to reach the foam that normally clings to the lid of the cup like glue. You stare at him again like a bad habit, only realising after a while that neither of you are attempting to argue with the other and maybe you don’t detest him so much.

Just maybe.

“Juyeon’s, right? I heard about it,” you look away from him in favour of finding your coffee and having some of it before it gets too cold and bitter to taste. You’re not sure what to answer to that, not more than a nod because it feels weird to know that he wouldn’t even have been invited yet he knows that it happened and that you were there.

“Yeah,” it sounds weak and you try to clear your throat, coughing instead as a result and turning your eyes back to the words in front of you, the mathematical equations that make you want to die the longer you look at them and the scribbles you’re trying to decipher even though you were the one to put them there.

“You look confused.”

“I am confused,” you tell him, and he surprises you by getting up and coming over to you, hovering into your personal space before you can ask him what the hell he’s doing. He’s close but never too close, and you hope no one is watching you both or peering in to the fact that you’re being friendly. “I can solve it for you if you want,” now it’s your turn to be amused and laugh, because no way in hell is Changmin able to look at your notes with anything other than a giant question mark over his head, “What? You think I don’t know how to do mathematical analysis?”

“Honestly, no,” you confess, and he looks at you strangely before reaching over for one of his pens.

“I can do the first one. It’ll help you figure out the second question,” you’re not sure why you agree or why you let him so easily take control of your notebook, but he does and you don’t say anything first, watching the way he writes out the equation. His motions are so fluid, the way his fingers grip the pen with confidence in what he writes. There doesn’t seem to be a single mistake as he writes, like he knows exactly how to get the answer and it amazes you.

“I didn’t know you were smart,” you’d meant it as a genuine compliment and genuine amazement but it’s clear to you that it sounds quite backhanded, which you suppose mirrors your personality towards him more. He doesn’t flinch, ignoring you entirely before he pushes your notes back to you.

“There you go,” he gets up before you can even say thank you, and it’s the sudden absence of his presence beside you that makes you realise you didn’t mind him in your space at all. You feel like you should, that you did just recently, but his closeness to you had felt like a safe presence, not a familiarity yet and not foreign enough to make you alert to it.

It was just sort of there. He just sort of existed with you.

“Thank you,” you’ve never sounded so sincere with him before, not that you had ever wanted to be nor meant it, but even when he’d been kind enough to cut your hair and not fuck it up, even then you hadn’t thanked him the way you did now, even if you’d argue that that gesture was far more important to you than this.

“You really don’t need to thank me. I find it weird,” what a way to ruin it. You roll your eyes and turn back to your work instead, using his method of solving the equation to help you figure out the rest. His handwriting was a little sloppy but you could read it fairly well, though the few times you struggle you still refused to ask him to tell you outright what it meant.

“How’s your cat?”

“You don’t have to make conversation either,” he adds, but it doesn’t sound troubled or annoyed, rather a statement that you don’t have to put in effort where you don’t want to. And then you wonder why you’re putting in any effort at all so suddenly, “he’s fine. How’s yours?”

“She’s fine.” “That’s good,” he never once looks up at you and it’s starting to bother you. Are you that ugly, that he simply didn’t want to see you at all? Was there something about you that was so easy to detest that even someone like Changmin couldn’t find it in himself to be decent and meet your eyes?

It’s like he could sense your thoughts and your bitterness of his refusal to meet your eyes, because suddenly his deep brown ones were staring into your own and you found it almost overwhelming to meet his gaze. His eye contact lingered and he didn’t falter with it, and eventually the way he stared back at you became too intense and you had to look away.

“You’re terrible with eye contact,” you were, he was right. It wasn’t very comfortable for you, and the longer someone lingered on you, the worse it got unless you were angry and intimidating someone.

“It’s weird to stare at someone.”

“You stared at me first,” fuck, so he’d noticed it. Of course he had. You knew what it was like, to feel that stare of someone enough so that you tried to find where it was coming from. In this case, Changmin had felt it yet there hadn’t been enough people around to hide that it was you. He knew instantly, because it had been obvious.

“I daydream.”

“How cute,” it sounds sarcastic coming from his lips. You don’t think he genuinely finds you cute. Honestly, you’d take it as an insult if he did. Cute was for animals, not for a grown woman, and so you were glad to know that for once he was mocking you.

There’s no words said between either of you for a while. You finish your coffee and he finishes his, and after a while he gets up and grabs both empty cups once he’s sure there’s nothing left in yours, “where’re you going?”

“Bin,” he leaves you alone and you’re left staring at him dumbly, watching his figure disappear behind rows of books and shelves. But then he doesn’t come back, and a few minutes turn into a quarter of an hour and you want to start looking for him. His things were still with you, including his phone, and you wonder why or when he became so trusting of you. Surely you could take it all or worse, you could ruin it, and he just had faith that you apparently wouldn’t.

Eventually he reappears, but you only notice because another cup of coffee is suddenly right in front of your eyes, held by hands you recognise because of the jewellery adorned, and it’s only further confirmed when you look up again to see him standing there.

“You got me a coffee?”

“Why’re you so surprised?”

Many reasons. You don’t like each other very much. His money was tight, that you knew. Or just the fact that it was the last thing you naturally expected when he’d disappeared for so long.

“How do you know what I drink?”

“Guesswork. It’s skimmed milk, too.”

Even Juyeon messed that up. He’d mess it up nearly every time and you could always taste the difference, you swore it, and yet he’d lie and say he’d gotten it right just enough for you to want to believe that maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn’t him that screwed up.

Surely it was always you.

“I really don’t want to keep thanking you today.”

“Then just get the next one in a few hours,” you’re rendered a little speechless on the silent assumption that you’d both be here for most of the day, but you suppose he’s being fair and that it’s very likely you’ll be here for a while, still.

“I guess,” you mumble, bringing the coffee closer to you to warm your fingers. You hold it for a while, fingers laced together before you bring the liquid to your lips to drink. It tastes exactly like you would’ve wanted it to, and briefly it makes your mind wander on how he could’ve known it so well.

You’re back to sitting in complete silence and after a few hours go by like that, Changmin seems disinterested in his work and instead wanders off before returning with a book to read. It brings amusement to your lips, an upwards smile that you try to hide under your hand because you don’t want him to comment on it. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he ignores it.

“Well… I suppose it’s my turn,” you mutter, reaching over for his empty cup before taking your own. He looks up at you with warm eyes, adjusting his glasses again and you start to think that it might be a habit given the repetition in which you see him do so.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

“Do you want it with the chocolate powder?”

“Yeah, just as it comes is fine,” you leave your things aside from your wallet and phone, as well as the two empty to-go cups and make your way out. It’s a strange feeling, running an errand of sorts you suppose for the both of you. And yet studying with Changmin across from you isn’t bad at all. Actually, you find it strangely peaceful, because he doesn’t bother you at all but his presence makes you feel less isolated.

You like that he doesn’t really make an attempt at a conversation where there isn’t one to be had.

“Here you go,” he mumbles something similar to a thank you, at least you think, his hand reaching out for you to place his coffee into. You do so, watching as he doesn’t once look up but his fingers dust over your own and it makes your heart jump to your throat because the feeling is foreign and strange but you want to welcome it.

You don’t like that you do, huffing in frustration at yourself and your stupid mess of emotions that have been scattered ever since that forsaken incident weeks ago. Maybe you’d have to consider therapy at this point, if the mess that was your mind persisted and the results were hangovers spread over multiple days and heart palpitations because someone simply touched you.

“Thanks,” you nod but he doesn’t seem to notice, so deeply caught up in his work that you think it might be something important, or at least incredibly interesting. He’d put the book he’d found earlier down and held his pen between his lips, fingers running through his now dry hair as he gripped the ends when he seemed frustrated.

Again, you were staring, but it was far too easy to do when he was right there and practically the only source of entertainment for your mind when your work was boring you to death.

“Struggling?”

“I suppose,” he draws out, pen no longer between his lips so he could answer you. You want to ask him what he’s doing, what exactly he’s even majoring in because you realise you have no idea. Then again, it had never interested you enough to ask and you’re not so sure if you ever will.

“Biochemistry,” he says outloud, presumably spoken to you. When you don’t answer, he looks up and stares right at you, “that’s what I’m studying.”

Wow, so he really was smart.

“Willingly?”

“Surprised?”

“Maybe,” the back and forth felt a little like flirting, and yet you knew it wasn’t that. It was a back and forth simply because the conversation never really went deeper. It was quick because there was nothing else to say.

It’s early in the evening when you decide that you've had enough. Changmin had left a few times for a cigarette, always rolling one at the table with you right there, making lazy conversation before he’d leave for a few minutes and then return. You debated asking if you could come with him just once before you remembered where you were and who you were with, so instead you sat and accepted the nicotine withdrawal.

“I think I’m done for the day,” he looks up at you briefly before he stretches his limbs, turning his shoulder either direction to warm his muscles and rid them of the tension from being mostly sat all day.

“That’s fair,” you start to pack up and there’s something in your mind wondering if you’d end up doing this again. You wouldn’t entirely mind it, as annoying as he is, when you simply sit with each other it’s rather nice and easy. It’s when the two of you start to speak to one another that problems arise. It’s when you realise again who he is that the calmness in your veins turns into something else.

“You’ll take a break at some point, right?”

“I plan to, doll,” his eyes meet yours again and you’re left staring, unsure what to make of that nickname anymore. It still bothers you and yet you perceive it as a compliment just the same, for if he calls you a doll, surely you’re delicate enough to be one?

“Don’t forget dinner,” he adds when you start to walk away from the table, and it brings you to a halt. Changmin doesn’t look up from his work, although you know that he’s aware that you’ve stopped, that you’re probably frustrated and that you want to tell him to go to hell when you let out a frustrated sigh. He has no right to tell you that, and yet the very fact that he’d brought it up at all with such casual nonchalance yet clear determined voice makes you think he might say it because he’s worried but doesn’t want to push a boundary further than he thinks he needs to.

He wants to remind you without pressuring you into a corner.

First you think of saying something, to maybe make a comment back but for the longest time you’re left standing there with nothing coming out of your lips. You simply can’t find anything to say.

“I’ll remember dinner when you forget to smoke,” he looks up from his textbook but you’ve already turned away from him, disappearing behind the shelfs and he’s left staring after you, a little lost before a faint smile falls back to his lips and his dimples become prominent despite just the faintness in which his lips curve.

You’d never know that he didn’t smoke for the rest of the night, but you did have dinner before you curled up in your bed with a book and your cat sat lazily beside you.

Changmin was starting to interest you. Not because you liked him but rather because he left you curious and a little stunned because of how strange he was. You were also wondering how or why he always managed to read you so well, it was all guess work and yet it was simply always correct just the same and you had no idea how he did it. Aside from the thought that he might be stalking you but you were always more than certain that he’d claim to have better things to do than follow you.

You hadn’t studied with Changmin since the hours spent in the library together but you had used the few notes and solutions he gave you the next few days as you revised. It was incredibly helpful, annoyingly so and you were beginning to feel a little dumb because why couldn't you have just written this out yourself? It wasn’t difficult now that you saw the answer.

Sunday night comes around and you’re lazily hanging around in bed listening to the rain outside. You’re so bored, but there was no party to attend and nothing else to really do. Chanhee said he was too busy and you weren’t going to ask Hyunjae, even though you had his number. You considered it truly, but ultimately didn’t want to give him the wrong idea of you nor were you sure how that would look if Juyeon found out.

Juyeon. A thorn in your side that pinched and twisted. He wouldn’t go away and you were conflicted on whether or not you wanted him to. You cared for Juyeon deeply and yet he seemed to prove the opposite in return, that you were worth the minimum if nothing at all. The final bit of evidence wasn’t even too long ago, when he left Hyunjae and Chanhee to carry you home instead of simply letting you stay in his bed to recover.

It was starting to feel, just a little, like Changmin might be right. Maybe the bad did outweigh the good though you weren’t ready to face the consequences of that being true. You weren’t ready for any of it. You didn’t want it to be true, because if it was you would have to grieve something only you seemed to love and you really didn’t want to be faced with that reality.

The doorbell rings and it breaks you away. It takes you a minute to realise that you’ll have to be the one to answer, as your parents are out and none of the staff remained given the late hour. You wondered why your parents still didn’t invest their money on a live-in butler, but they insisted he would attempt to steal with all the extra time given to him in which he simply stayed here.

When you come downstairs you’re already a little annoyed. The ringing persisted and whoever it was was incredibly impatient with you getting there, so you’re already ready to yell at whoever it is but when you finally meet the gaze of who it is, you stop in your step and stare.

Juyeon.

act iii

this chapter was meant to be longer but tumblr said no so I apologise for the cliffhanger it's not my fault and also apologise that this won't be three acts only pfff

taglist: @sanaxo-o @mosviqu @sunramzi @tbzhubrecs @caratsmatic @synnocence

again, let me know if you wanna be on the taglist 💜 comments are always appreciated

series masterlist || tbz masterlist

©️strayed-quokka, please do not steal, translate, reuse or rewrite as your own

#I am so fucking invested in this 😭#jichang been HAUNTING ME #chanhee my bae but jichang always wrecks 😂#the boyz smut #changmin smut #q smut #juyeon smut #deoboyznet #ji changmin #the boyz changmin #changmin x reader #changmin x female reader #the boyz q

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messiahb0lical · 10 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — part one (i – vii)

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

your sister's dead, but apparently that's not the most shocking news. maybe she wasn't killed on accident, maybe ji changmin isn't really human, and maybe the monsters were never under the bed but all around you...

▷ genre, warnings. strangers 2 reluctant allies/friends 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creatures au, angst, action, murder mystery-ish au, forced proximity trope, suspense, gore, depictions of violence and blood, themes of death and grief, use/description of weaponry, swearing, a slightly unreliable narrator bc she has no idea what's happening, reader's sister is dead, mentions of stalking, humor bc coping mechanisms, reader has hair long enough to braid sorry, blood drinking, the barest of proofreading and editing done...

▷ part word count. 22.3k words / 47.4k - read part two here

▷ associated songs. teeth (5sos), wet nightmare (bibi)

a/n: i tried to make it scary I SWEAR but changmin brings the clown out of me 🤥 anyways i ripped a chunk of my heart out and im serving it to you bloodied on a gold platter, i hope u love her :') read the warnings ofc and lmk your thoughts <3 also i completely gave up on wrestling w blr so im dropping it in two parts, but both of them at once 🤣 pray for me.

#1—NEXT OF KIN.

THEY TOLD YOU YOUR SISTER'S DEATH WAS AN ACCIDENT, they being the authorities who had shown up at the front door of your apartment with their caps in hand, solemn faces pressed into lines that you could not read between. The world had fallen out from beneath your feet like someone had just yanked the carpet out, and you hadn't yet stopped falling.

The funeral was set on the rolling green hills of Elysium Memorial Park, the cemetery where your parents were buried, where your grandparents were buried, and now, where your sister joined them six feet under. Generations ago, your grandparents had purchased plots for themselves and their future family members while the land was cheap. When it came for your time to leave this mortal coil behind, you too would join them in the dirt of Elysium. It almost seemed right that the sky had opened up to reveal a blindingly hot sun, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Perhaps the sky would not weep for your sister, but celebrate her life instead.

But while the heavens above would shed nary a tear, you could make up for that loss yourself. Having little to no living relatives left, you had been expected to take responsibility for all the arrangements, all while grieving, all while studying, all while trying to not fall apart some more. You were holding it together by the zipper of your dress pants and the caffeine from your coffee. You couldn't stop crying for the entire service, the forced silence of your cries balanced by the violent tremors in your shoulders.

Your sister Sena's patch in the land was now marked by a heaping pile of dirt. She had a lot of friends—most of whom gathered behind you and had thrown their flowers upon the dirt hill. You had a few distant relatives as well who you'd managed to remember (somehow) amongst all the madness. A couple of them were able to fly out for the event, but most had to decline.

When you heard your name being called, you drew your blazer sleeve over your eyes in a futile attempt to dry them.

Walking towards you now was a couple, middle-aged, dressed in black from head to toe, not far from how you looked right now. You knew them from about a week ago when they had sought you out after the news of your sister's death spread.

You hadn't the heart to sue them when they confessed who they were. It's our fault, they told you in the quiet of the hallway outside your apartment, we're so sorry. We understand if you'd like to press charges.

Sena was a victim of an automobile accident. You didn't know the entire story—was too tired for the whole story—just shocked she was even in the country. She was supposed to be across the world for a study abroad program, but why was she discovered on the side of the road, a few towns over, inebriated and dead? She became nothing more than roadkill and a statistic in death, and maybe that was why you were so bitter.

"Yn, it was a beautiful ceremony," said the woman—Julia, she had introduced herself as that week ago. Her nose was reddened from the friction of tissue paper, her eyes damp and glittering in the sunlight. "I'm sorry you—that you have to deal with all the pomp and circumstance."

"We know you deserve your time alone," joined her husband, Carter. He tucked his hands into his pockets, mustering up a smile for your sake, but you could still see the guilt flooding his eyes with water. "We just wanted to say thank you for letting us come and pay our respects."

And for not pressing charges. But you dashed that thought away. That was the bitterness talking, but these were good people. They had come forward and been honest, and it wasn't their fault Sena was drunk. (Why in the world was she drunk and here and why didn't she tell you the truth—?)

"Thank you for coming," you replied, "I wasn't sure if you would take me up on the offer, to be honest."

You wrapped up conversation with the couple and watched them depart across the grassy hills toward their car. Your eyes surveyed the last bits of the lingering crowd for familiar faces—anyone at all. But all you found were strangers.

These were all Sena's friends, after all. She had always been the more adventurous of the two of you.

You sighed and resigned yourself to start looking for the funeral coordinator to discuss payment and the like. Though the event was over the worst was just beginning. There was so much to do, and so little energy left to perform them.

But as you began trudging through the plush grass toward the far end of the plot, you noticed a man standing beneath the shade of a nearby oak tree. He wore typical funeral attire—the black dress shirt, pants, shoes, and even a pair of rectangular shades to cover his eyes. Like many of the others, you didn't recognize him—at first.

And then he shifted, lenses of his glasses reflecting sunlight and you could just barely put together the puzzle of his face and his identity. Ji Changmin.

What was he doing here?

They were friends, too, Yn, you reminded yourself. Yet, you weren't sure why you were so surprised he was here. Maybe it was because you never remembered extending the invitation to him (but someone could have spread the news by word of mouth). Maybe it was because several months had passed since you last saw him. Maybe it was because you always thought there was something… strange about him (but that could have been your bias; there was always this thing about him that irked you). Either way, you never had anything to say to him before, and that had yet to change even in light of your sister's death.

The two of you stared each other down, and for a moment, you believed he was going to walk over to you.

But instead, he pushed off the tree trunk and made his way toward the trickle of funeral goers up the hill, leaving you to wonder after him.

The next time you saw Ji Changmin was a week after the will reading.

Because you were Sena's next of kin, you were contacted by your shared attorney about Sena's will. Apparently, she had a will. After all these years, you couldn't even fathom the idea of needing one so early, but for some reason, she had. (Maybe that worried you a little more.)

The strangest thing was that your attorney had delivered to you a flat lockbox made of steel and secured with an old fashioned lock and key. Along with the stash of money in her savings account (where the Hell had all of that come from anyway?), Sena also gave you that. Whatever it was.

You had yet to open it when you bumped into Changmin on your way out of your college's academic counseling center. With recent events, your departmental advisor called you in to discuss your academic plans for the foreseeable future.

You can take as long as you like, Yn, she'd said to you. You're already ahead of schedule to graduate anyways. But that wasn't the point was it?—

"Oh." You stopped short as you rounded the corner and nearly crashed into something. "Sorry," you said before you even recognized him.

A pair of dark, feline eyes looked you up and down. "Yn, right?" Changmin drawled. A pair of white wired earbuds hung from his ears and his shoulders were fitted with a dark colored bomber jacket that was familiar to you. You'd seen it draped over the back of one of your kitchen chairs once when Sena had him over for a project.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. Changmin?"

His nod was barely there. He cocked his head to the side in a way that felt like he was trying to gaze into your soul. "I'm—I'm sorry for your loss," he said, grappling for the right words. "Sena was a good friend."

"I didn't realize the two of you were so close," you told him. This was probably the most he'd ever said to your face, and you to him.

Changmin gave a small shrug. "We worked closely together, so it was kind of inevitable. How are you doing?"

You didn't think the conversation would last this long. "Oh, uhm, I'm fine." You inwardly knocked yourself over the head. He's probably just trying to be nice, Yn. "I mean—" you amended, "—I'm doing as well as you can imagine, I guess. Just lots of legal stuff and…" Her room. Cleaning out her room. Opening the lockbox. Reading her last will and testament for the fiftieth time.

When you didn't finish your sentence right away, he nodded again, shuffling on the balls of his feet. Was he feeling as awkward as you were? "I get that. Hey, if you—y'know, like, need anything—"

"You don't have to do that."

"What about coffee? Just… to talk."

Coffee? You considered him for a second. Before, you nor he had ever given any indication to the other that you acknowledged the other's presence. In fact, you confessed to Sena once that he intimidated you, even if he was just sitting there in your shared living room while pouring over JSTOR academic essays.

He was patient, you realized. Then you relented. "Okay. When's good for you?"

You thought you saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes, but that could have just been the afternoon sunlight. "Now?"

Your eyes widened a smidge, and you coughed. "Uhm now? I—I have class…?" You didn't, but the curve ball that was an impromptu coffee session with Ji Changmin wasn't something you needed right now.

His eyebrow lifted as if he didn't believe you. "Okay," he dragged out. "Tomorrow morning?" He offered as a counter.

Your brain did cartwheels in an attempt to figure out if you would have the willpower to do that. "Okay," you said. Better to get this out of the way, right?

"Do you know that one place on Magnolia?"

"The one across from the Eight Ball?" You perked up in recognition. You and Sena used to go all the time. The two of you liked to say that Magnolia was her street because it housed all her favorite places; just the thought of taking a stroll down it made your eyes water. "Yeah, Sena and I used to go all the time."

Changmin paused, his mouth opening, then closing.

You guessed what he was thinking. "It's fine if we go. I'm not gonna like, burst into tears or anything," you chuckled awkwardly, clearing your throat when excess tear fluid made you congested.

His lips pursed, impressing a dimple into his cheek. "Okay, only if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." It seemed that everything you said to people was something like a lie nowadays.

It was late when you finally faced the lockbox.

The box was an unassuming hunk of metal, flat and slim and no bigger than a standard piece of paper. You warmed the key in your palm until it was hot to the touch and made your skin redden. The sky outside your apartment window had darkened to a blot of ink, the white shutters drawn shut to create a white paneled shield. You just finished up a very lazy dinner, washed up, and decided to confront the last thing on Sena's will.

The lockbox in the bank under my name goes to my sister, Yn Ln. She is the only one allowed access to it until she opens it; what she decides to do with the contents is her choice.

There must have been something important inside it, you reasoned, otherwise it wouldn't have been a part of the will and it wouldn't be under lock and a single key.

"What is this, Sena?" You asked aloud, venturing to twist the lock open with the key. The locking mechanism gave way, and you set the lock and key aside. The shorter end could slide open like a hidden door, and you peered into the dark depths, almost afraid of what you might find between its jaws.

You could make out the silhouettes of shapes at the bottom, the soft-cornered texture of a wad of bills. You reached in.

One of the things she had left for you in her will was all of the money in her savings account. It had shocked you to see the number—you always thought her only job was at the library, but clearly, she was not just on a librarian's salary.

Pulling out a stack of cash from the box was yet another thing that helped solidify in your mind that something was off. The confusion settled first, and then the betrayal. Had she not trusted you with this knowledge while she was alive? You were the one going into accounting and finance, and yet, she hid all of this money from you? Was she afraid of something? Afraid of judgment, of the law?

You tossed the twenties onto the table. The note slipped between the rubber band and the first piece read something along the lines of 'in case of emergency.'

You made a plunge into the box again. This time, you pulled out the last two things at the bottom, a standard white index card and a small, fabric pouch. The card displayed Sena's familiar scrawl:

You're probably wondering what any of this is, but if you're reading this, it means that something's gone wrong—like really wrong. The necklace in the pouch is super important. DON'T TAKE IT OFF. Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't trust anyone. This is really important to me, Yn. Please be safe; I love you.

x, sena.

Please be safe? Safe from who or what?

You held the note in your hand for a moment and couldn't believe this would be the last thing you received from her. It would be a tangible legacy, in a way, and you weren't sure how to feel about that. You moved the note to the table and turned your attention to the pouch.

You carefully tugged it open. She said it was a necklace, right?

"Oh," you voiced aloud while fishing out a thin, silver chain.

There was a pendant attached to the end with some heft to it. It was a deep, bloody red in the loose shape of a teardrop. There wasn't a sharp peak, but a slightly flat end on one side and a rounded end on the other. You would guess it was some kind of precious stone, but when you stared at it long enough, it looked like the color pulsed… like a heartbeat.

Your breath hitched.

Eyes narrowed, you held it up to the light by the chain. The vibrant red remained stagnant—perhaps you were just tired.

Don't let anyone touch it before you do. Don't take it off. Don't trust anyone.

Strange request about a necklace. For a moment, you wondered if your sister had indulged in some unsavory acts to achieve the numbers in her bank account and the previous stone in your hands. If you put this on, would you be counted as an accomplice to robbery?

"God, you just need to go to sleep, Yn," you muttered, swiftly clicking the chain into place around your neck. There was no way your sister would have anything to do with—

You froze.

From the other side of your shutters, you swore you heard the sound of shuffling. It wasn't unheard-of that the leaves and tree branches knocked against your second-floor window once in a while, but there hadn't been much wind as of late.

A chill spider-crawled up your spine as you strained your ears to hear more.

When you came up with nothing, you shoved the pendant under your shirt and cleaned up the lockbox. You had an early day tomorrow, after all; sleep was dire to face Changmin.

But as you crept into bed, you couldn't help but feel as if the stone on your sternum did have a heartbeat, and that something in the dark was watching you.

#2—GHOSTS ONLY HAUNT.

YOU STEPPED FOOT ON MAGNOLIA STREET looking for signs of your sister.

The morning air was a little cooler as spring filtered into town, and it also meant that this street in particular would begin to swirl with baby pink petals from the trees of the street's namesake flowers. There weren't many people around on a Thursday morning, but the sun peered between the buildings to say hello, at least.

You were in good company.

"Hey."

"Holy shit—" you whipped around to find Changmin almost right behind you. Your heart stuttered against your ribcage, your hand flying to your sternum where the necklace was. You were still getting used to its presence.

He gave nothing away with his facial expression. Damn him.

"I didn't realize you'd be early," you breathed as you tried to get a grip on yourself. Did this guy just materialize out of thin air everywhere?

Tongue in cheek, he said, "Well, I couldn't really sleep, so I figured the morning air might freshen me up a bit. Shall we?" He gestured with his elbow and chin to the establishment to your right.

There sat the quaint, little coffee shop you'd both agreed on yesterday. This one was one of Sena's favorites. She always claimed that their blueberry scones were the best in the world.

When you didn't say anything for a little, he cleared his throat. "We don't have to, if you can't or don't want to."

You hadn't even realized you were being quiet. Thoughts had been muddled as of late. You cleared your throat and stumbled for the door. "No, we can go in."

Two cups of coffee arrived at your table seven minutes later in compostable cups and a pile of artificial sweetener packets and creamer. You straightened in your seat across from Changmin and began ripping open sweetener packets and wondering if you should have gotten something of substance to eat. (You had stared at the blueberry scones for a long minute before deciding that today was not the day you wanted to cry in front of someone, especially this someone in particular.)

Changmin moved his cup toward his side of the table but made no move to add sugar or cream, or to even drink it.

This place was so familiar to you that you knew exactly how many packets of cream and sweetener to mix in, and you gently blew a breath over the steam floating off the surface. When the liquid hit your tongue and your throat, its warmth enveloped your nerves in a warm embrace, assuring you everything was going to be okay. The emotion hit you like a freight train.

You pressed your thumb against the rear gland in your right eye and willed it away. "So uhm," you said, fanning your eyes gently as you attempted to pull yourself together in front of him, "what… what did you wanna talk about? If there was anything?"

He folded his arms over his chest while leaning back in his chair, and you thought you saw his gaze soften. "Why don't you take another sip?" His eyes went to the coffee. "It'll help."

You couldn't deny that suggestion, and you reached for your cup to take another small gulp. The breath you let out rattled.

This was a bad idea.

"Are you gonna be okay if I talk about Sena?"

You nursed the coffee cup in your hands and nodded slowly.

He eyed you for a moment, then relented. "Did she happen to leave anything that was marked for me? Before the—the accident, she said there was something she needed to tell me."

Something she needed to tell him? You racked your brain, eyes drilling into the wood grain of the coffee table between you two. The will hadn't mentioned anyone else but you. And all of the letters or notes from Sena that were given to you were all for you; the attorney would have handled the rest and mailed them off to anyone else she'd written something for.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "No, I can't think of anything. You say you were expecting something?"

The resolve in his eyes steeled over, and that little bit of softness you'd seen before disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. You couldn't read him anymore. "Yes, I have her texts."

He fished out his phone from his pocket and you pursed your lips as he maneuvered to a screen of his and your sister's last messages to each other:

sena: i think i'm going back home soon, so i'll c u then changmin: okay that's fine changmin: wait ur still over there?? i thought u left already? sena: had to talk to someone abt the thing, but it was a dead end sena: just remind me that i have something to tell u changmin: what? sena: it'll be better if i said this in person

That was all Changmin let you see.

You leaned away from his phone, head reeling more from the fact that he knew she had been out of town and knew where she was and why she was there. Never mind the fact that apparently, Sena was holding onto important information for Changmin. You couldn't care less about that.

You supposed the texts were for him to prove to you he was telling you the truth. It wasn't like you weren't telling the truth either.

"Why was Sena out of town?" You asked him. "Did she ever go on any of those study abroad trips?"

Changmin paused, then something flickered in his eyes. "I think I showed you too much."

"I think you showed me too little."

"Yn, did she tell you anything about what she needed to tell me?"

You were going to push against him for your own agenda again, but the slight pressure in his tone made you think twice. There was something urgent in his words, his expression, his body language. You couldn't tell what it was, but something about this had to have been important.

Absentmindedly, your hand rubbed the area where the pendant sat on your chest beneath the collar of your shirt, and his eyes followed for a moment before flickering back up to your eyes. "No," you told him quietly. "She didn't tell me anything."

He must have believed you, because defeat shuddered across his face, and he said goodbye to leave. He didn't even take his coffee with him. Asshole.

You told yourself it would be months before you could bring yourself to go through Sena's things, but after this morning's run-in with Changmin (because it wasn't even a session; you could hardly call it anything but a run-in because it lasted maybe ten minutes), you were determined to unlock her door and do some digging. Clearly, she was hiding more than her money and jewelry(?) from you.

Changmin… he completely ignored your questions confronting him about Sena's whereabouts and her purpose for traveling. You were getting more and more suspicious as to what your sister had been up to lately. Changmin had to be in on it, too, then. He had to be.

Sena's door took up your entire vision as you stood before it with the key in your hand.

You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting when you opened it, but it was as if she had never left. Everything was where she left it—plum-purple covers tucked beneath the mattress, vintage national park postcards hanging from fairy lights by wooden clothespins, jackets layered over the back of her desk chair. There was an empty mug on her desk with the remnants of a red lip tint on the edge, and you knew you weren't going to remember to take it out to the sink later.

The small shelf-nightstand hybrid next to her bed was filled to the brim with books and notebooks and magazines. You settled gingerly upon the edge of her bed, palms pressing against the comforter.

The room still smelled like your sister.

You took the small bottle of perfume on the nightstand and spritzed a little onto your wrist. You pressed it to your nose, letting the scent make your senses woozy. It wouldn't bring her back; it didn't smell exactly the same when it was on your skin.

You set the bottle back onto the nightstand, then lowered yourself to your knees to pull all of the books off the top shelf. You stuck your head into the empty cupboard—you weren't really sure what you were looking for.

All of the titles here were the normal things you remembered seeing her read: assorted mythologies, books on the occult and supernatural, her textbooks for anthropology and archeology. There were about a dozen and a half National Geographic magazines that you flipped through within the next two hours, as well, all of which turned up nothing of curiosity.

None of the bound books were notebooks of any kind.

You crawled over to her desk—rifled through those. Nothing. They were all school related and completely, utterly ordinary.

Disappointment weighed you down into her desk chair as you hit another dead end.

Was there nothing she could give you?

No, she's dead, you thought to yourself. You'd never known Sena to be a secretive person, especially with you—in fact, you were the quieter of the pair, and she always managed to coax the right things out of you.

Sometimes you had felt like the older sister because you handled so many of the logistics and practical things, but when the world became too scary, you could always count on running to her to feel safe again…

Safe.

Sena, were you ever safe? You were beginning to think not so much.

"Do I need to file for a restraining order?"

It was getting ridiculous how many times you ran into Changmin in the past two weeks. It was outside the advising office, on your way to the store, in the hallway outside your finance lecture. And now, he loitered in the lobby of your apartment complex with a wired earbud in one ear and the other dangling freely.

He seemed to be unfazed by your remark as he peered over at you from beneath the brim of his cap. "What if I just live here?"

"But you don't," you huffed, coming to stop right in front of him. You had a feeling you would have definitely known if he moved into this building. "What do you want from me, Changmin? I'm not going to magically lead you to my sister's secret stash of whatever. I just want to get to class."

"Then go to class," he said simply. He gestured with the phone in his hand toward the door. "I'm not here for you."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Perhaps you were being a little silly, and this was just some weird trick your brain was playing on you to make you notice him more. "Answer me something."

"Only if you answer something for me."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Worth a shot," he said with a sigh. "What shall I answer for you?"

"You and my sister weren't dating, were you?"

He must have choked on his own spit because he coughed, furiously thumping his chest. You would have laughed if this was any other circumstance, and if you and Changmin were friends (but you weren't). He shook his head at you. "No. Your sister wasn't interested in me like that and neither was I. We were strictly colleagues."

You cocked your head to the side. Colleagues… you let that marinate. "Okay, so did she have anyone she was seeing then? Just out of curiosity." A former lover you didn't know about would make sense, something like a Bonnie and Clyde situation maybe. Or perhaps you were chasing after ghosts to get a glimpse into the past.

"Someone I suspect, but I don't have their contact," he replied, mimicking your head tilt and narrowed eyes. "If you had her phone—"

"I don't."

"Ah, a shame then."

"Do you?"

"And why would I withhold such an important item from the next of kin?" He drawled.

Changmin suddenly jolted upright from the relaxed position he stood in. It was so abrupt, it gave your heart a start. "That's my cue."

You followed after him out the front doors. "What cue? Did you hear your microwave go off or something?"

You swore to God you saw his mouth curl up in amusement. But it might have been just your imagination. He yanked his other earbud out and lifted a hand in goodbye. "Something like that! See you around."

He disappeared around the corner before you could follow after him. Plus, you really did have a lecture to get to. (Wait, did he say that she was seeing someone—?)

You sighed, wondering if you should follow him… something in the back of your mind told you it would be safer not to.

#3—MONSTERS AMONG MEN.

YOU SWORE JI CHANGMIN HAD TO BE a psychic with the amount of times he predicted your whereabouts. Every time you saw him in your vicinity, you and he shared either a verbal sparring match or stared one another down. He seemed amused by it; you were growing increasingly concerned, even if it was all just coincidence.

(There was this one time, on a Wednesday this past week, where you were the one who appeared at the anthropology department to see one of Sena's old professors. Changmin was there, as it was his major's headquarters, and shot you a curious glance. The meeting was innocent and an accident. No, you definitely weren't stalking him. Absolutely not.)

(It was interesting to consider whether both of you thought the other would lead you to something of Sena's. You were certain he knew more than he let on, and perhaps he thought the same of you… Shit, maybe you should invest in a taser.)

Additionally, the weird sounds around your apartment had increased. Sometimes when you walked around in the evenings, the hair on the back of your neck and your arms stood at attention, as if you could feel the gaze of someone or… something watching you. However, every time you turned to look, the crazier you were convinced you'd become.

It didn't help that the necklace Sena left for you kept mimicking your heart beat when you weren't paying attention. If you willed it to repeat the steady beat in the light so you could observe it up close, it would cease.

It was as if distance from your skin or touch left it without a heart to echo.

You were half certain you were losing your mind. It had to be all this stress and emotion overwhelming you.

Saturday morning, you decided to pick yourself up and go see your sister. The funeral home had called you earlier this week to say that her headstone was complete, so this would also serve as a trip to ensure everything was engraved correctly before it was placed over her grave. You dressed yourself up in a dark top and comfortable jeans, something you might be able to sit in on the grass as you lingered in her presence, even if she was dead.

Ever since you went through her things, you hadn't ventured into her room again. You thought it might preserve the way it looked, smelled, felt… preserve something of her.

Once you'd gone to the funeral parlor and management center at Elysium Memorial Park to confirm the engraving, you took a brisk walk up the hill to where you remembered Sena's plot to be. The sun peered out between clouds this morning, giving the sky a dual-toned appearance, one half a dark gray, and the other a gossamer yellow.

You started down the hill, head ducked to watch for any graves or hills so you didn't trample over other people's bodies. A bundle of flowers from the grocery store sat cradled in the crook of your arm—a bundle of pink carnations ("I'll never forget you") and dark crimson roses (mourning). You didn't often pay attention to the meaning of flowers, but you thought if you weren't able to choke anything out today, then at least they could speak for you.

Just as you neared the grave between oaks, you lifted your head, your footsteps slowing at the person who stood over your sister's grave. "You have got to be shitting me."

"Isn't it a sin to curse over someone's grave?" Changmin asked as you stopped short of where he was. There was a single stem of sunflower (adoration) seated at his feet on the bundle of earth that was Sena's resting place. "Well, I wouldn't know. That's not my expertise."

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a loose gesture with a flourished hand. "Visiting a friend. Don't leave on my account. She's your sister."

It was as if he could read your mind. You didn't count on anyone being here when you saw her, but he had a right to visit her, too. The bitterness seeping into your bones would have to be squandered for today; the universe just needed to stop making the two of you bump into each other.

You ignored the quickening pitter-patter of your heart and the necklace, and trudged over the grass to where he was.

You gently placed your bundle of flowers next to his, then straightened to stand beside him. The two of you stared at the patch in the ground in silence.

A frown etched itself onto his face, along with a crease between his brows. He seemed almost angry—at what, you couldn't tell. Not you, you hoped.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to the grass to sit down and be closer to her.

I miss you, you voiced into your head, as if you could transmit these thoughts to the dead body in the ground. I'm so… it's too much, Sena. I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me, I don't know what Changmin wants from me. The apartment is cold. Why didn't you tell me you were home all this time?

For the moment, you let your vision blur with tears.

You covered your mouth with your palm to dam the emotion inside, especially with someone else right next to you, but dignity be so fucking damned. Your body trembled with the weight of everything and beyond—you were Atlas carrying the world upon his shoulders. Pressure mounted in your cranium from how hard and freely you sobbed, your fingers pressed to your face to support your head as your tears wet the earth beneath you.

A presence lowered itself to the ground beside you, and Changmin remained politely quiet. He breathed in deeply, but you heard the slight tremble of his breath when he exhaled.

Maybe you were crying for the both of you.

After what seemed like eons, you sniffled, pawing at your puffy and reddened eyes with the sleeves of your shirt. You hadn't brought along any tissues or anything, an oversight.

You gathered your wits about you and clambered to your feet, your knees knocking together like a baby deer. Changmin still had his eyes pinned to the ground.

"Whatever the Hell you want from me," you told him hoarsely, "I don't care. Just leave me alone."

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Without another word, you walked away to head back to the bus stop.

Your skin prickled when you returned home. The air was oddly… off, and a strange smell lingered in the air. It was subtle, only becoming apparent to you with deep, focused inhales. The identity of the smell eluded you and it wasn't something you were familiar with.

You kicked the front door shut behind you, and noticed that the window was ajar. Had you accidentally left that open before you left?

Strange.

You padded across the room to peer out at the street below. There sat the usual tree that occupied the space in front of your window, the one that you assumed (hoped) was the thing making all of the noises outside the past few weeks. (Because if it wasn't that, you didn't want to know what it really was.)

The thought occurred to you that you might have opened the window before you left to air out whatever smell had crept through the air vents. Yes, that made a whole lot of sense.

Settling with that explanation, you cranked the window closed slightly, only leaving a sliver so you could muffle as much of the sounds outside as possible. This part of town wasn't the noisiest, luckily, but when there were vehicles that drove by, they tended to be loud for no reason.

You sighed, settling down onto your couch with your bag. The whole rest of your day was open, and the only thing you had thought of was to go see Sena.

The feeling of eyes on you loitered on your skin like an invisible ant crawling over your body somewhere. You swiped at your neck, rubbed your arm… you couldn't identify it when you swung around to observe your own home.

This was your home, wasn't it? Why did it feel like you weren't alone in it?

You were going to go close the window—

A shadow appeared on the ledge of your window sill and you let out a scream.

The mass gnarled its teeth at the sound, pouncing at you with claws and fangs that glinted in the daylight.

You scrambled backward on the couch, toward the opposite end, your heart throwing itself up against your ribcage. "What the fuck?" You breathed, trying to figure out what in the world it was.

Bad idea. Oh, baaaad. Bad. Bad. Bad idea.

You shouldn't have stared so long; then you wouldn't have realized it had multiple rows of teeth, a face pale as a full moon, and two beady eyes narrowed into slits. Saliva dripped from its maw and down its chin as it crawled on its haunches and arms to you.

It made a guttural noise, then lunged.

You swore and fell over the arm of the couch, dragging along the lamp on the side table. You tried to move your right leg off the arm—it didn't budge. Oh god, it had its claws in your pant leg—

"Mine," it snarled, surprisingly sentient. "Master wills it so."

You kicked it in its face and managed to scramble away, clutching the lamp in front of your body as a weapon.

It ran after you, and your body leapt into instinct.

You nearly slipped as you fumbled to your feet and tipped the coffee table over the creature. "What the fuck are you—SHIT."

Wood splinters exploded as the creature smashed clear through one of the legs and went careening for you.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE," you begged, running for the kitchen and the block of knives in your sight.

Your knees hit the wood floor with a vengeance, and you had no time to mourn over bruised knees. You twisted around and just barely shoved the lamp between its jaws before it could enclose them around your neck—

Somebody pounded on your front door. "YN? YN!"

Familiar—that was all that went through your head. "HELP ME," you screeched, your hands growing slippery from the slobber. Desperation filled your veins and you gave a violent shove.

Your front door bursted open, the handle banging against the opposite wall and leaving a dent.

Changmin charged into the room with a dark look in his eyes, a swear on his tongue. "You're the little weasel who's been fucking with me."

The creature shifted his attention to Changmin. "Your Disgrace," it gave a mocking bow.

That seemed to be his ticker.

You couldn't comprehend what happened—only an exchange of blows, a blur of body mass—Changmin brawled with the creature on your floor and you dragged yourself behind the kitchen counter to hide. You reached for a knife from the knife block up above and pulled your knees to your chest, the sounds of snarling and wood breaking and bones cracking—then—complete silence.

You slapped a palm over your mouth, eyes going toward the ceiling to pray to anyone who could hear you.

This was when you died. The creature had killed Changmin and now it was coming back to finish what it started.

You held your breath with your eyes wide open. You strained your ears. The sound of a sigh met your ears, one that was oh-so familiar to you.

"Shit," came Changmin's voice. "Yn. Yn? Yn, where…?"

He rounded the counter, his hair sticking up in different directions and a large tear at the top of his shirt, but other than that, he seemed no worse for wear. He eyed the knife pointed outward at him, and he showed you his palms as if placating a rattlesnake. "Woah, hey, it's okay. It's gone now."

Your body trembled from head to toe with all of the pent up fear and adrenaline. You shook your head, your hand still clapped over your mouth to keep your screams or cries in.

Changmin lowered himself to your level slowly. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise, it's gone and you're okay now. Let's put the knife down."

You slowly, slowly brought your extended hand down, letting the blade point toward the ground and away from the man in front of you. "What—" you choked, "—what was—who are—"

His facial features arranged into something short of stress. "It's a long story…" He roughed a hand through his bangs. "That thing back there? Yn, that was a demon."

You blinked.

He exhaled sharply. "I'm a demon."

"Don't fuck with me."

"You think I'm fucking with you?"

Your free hand clutched at the pendant around your neck. "You—you don't look like that thing though."

He gave a nod. "Right, I don't. I'm… a different kind of demon." When you remained quiet, he prodded, "You're not going to fight back? You're not gonna tell me you're going crazy?"

"Oh, I know I'm going crazy," you nodded vigorously, wiping away the snot that dribbled down your nose inelegantly. He reached over the counter to grab the roll of paper towels and slide it over to you in an act of (rare) kindness. Your head made contact with the cabinet behind you. "Is the carcass lying on my living room floor, Changmin? Tell me it is not lying on my living room floor."

"It's not."

"Then where the fuck is it?"

He licked his lips, closing his eyes. "It escaped."

"Out the window?"

"No, through a portal—"

You wheezed, and you were sure you looked half mad to him. "Oh my god, I really am off my rocker." A portal. A portal! Of course it was a portal.

He pinned you with a look. "Yn. Yn, listen to me. You're not safe here."

"No shit. I almost died two minutes ago." You saw his unimpressed expression and forced an apology out of your mouth. "Sorry. Humor is a coping mechanism. You can't just tell me demons exist without me thinking we've both gone absolutely insane."

Changmin settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, gripping onto the edge of the counter behind his head. "Yeah, your sister reacted similarly when she found out."

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"What?"

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Supernatural creatures exist. The ones that you read about in books and in myths and legends, and watch in silly movies and TV shows?" He gestured wide with both his arms. "They exist—we exist."

You could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You swallowed. "And she… she knew this?"

A nod. "Yes. We've all been walking among you this whole time."

"What does this have to do with Sena?" What did any of this have to do with your sister? Was this even worse than you imagined it was?

He pursed his lips, exposing the little mole beneath his bottom lip for a moment. "Sena and I were… business partners. We were in the bounty hunting business, essentially."

There were words coming out of his mouth, but it was too much. All of it hit your head and fell straight to the floor, and none of it truly sank into your sense of reality.

Sena was a supernatural bounty hunter? And she died while on a case. A personal one, he said—?

"—I was coming over to show you something when I felt my trap get triggered."

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in. "Trap?"

"I've been hunting that demon for weeks now," he explained to you, but the words were coming out slowly like he was reluctant to let them go. "It's been… avoiding me, and I tracked it to your apartment and realized what, or who, it was after." His teeth ran over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed on you. "You're wearing it, aren't you? The pendant?"

On instinct, your hand shot up to your sternum. "How the Hell—"

"That's what Sena and I were looking for." His sharp, feline gaze remained pinned on you as you slowly lifted the chain to take the pendant out. It glistened like a fat, red ruby in the daylight. "What did she tell you about it?"

"Absolutely nothing," you said plainly. You set the knife on the ground beside you and adjusted your sitting position with a shaky exhale. "Except that I shouldn't let anyone touch it before me, that I shouldn't take it off, and to not—trust anyone."

You stiffened when Changmin reached for something in his back pocket.

"Relax, this is what I wanted to show you." He held his hands up after retrieving a cream-colored envelope from his back pocket, majorly bent and crumpled in some portions, but intact for the most part. He slid the envelope across the kitchen floor to you, and you immediately recognized your sister's handwriting.

You gingerly picked it up off the ground and inspected it. It couldn't have been forged—the way she wrote her R's were too distinct. She was so weird about always writing capital R's even if it was supposed to be lowercase.

You opened the flap and tugged out the letter inside. As you made your way down the note, it came to you that this was his evidence. This was his evidence that Sena knew him personally and that, according to past-Sena, you could trust him.

Your fingers shook as you pushed the letter back into the fold, and you shoved the envelope back over to him. "Okay," you muttered. "What now?"

Something akin to relief washed over his face. "She didn't tell you anything about the pendant? Nothing?"

You shook your head, fondling the stone between your fingers. "No. I found it in the lockbox she left for me with cash and a small note."

"Lockbox?" He perked up. "Are you certain there wasn't anything else in there? Not a second stone or a second necklace? Nothing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought, and you pressed your thumb and forefinger to your closed eyes when they began to sting from dehydration. "No. It was just those three things I mentioned earlier. Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you said. "I am absolutely sure. You don't think I turned that thing upside down?"

Changmin stood up and began to pace around his side of the kitchen, his head buried in his two palms. "Oh fuck," you heard his muttered swear.

"What is it?"

He rubbed his hands down his face, and it reset him to that careful blankness from before. "Do you trust me?"

"No," came your automatic answer.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Your sister was after something important before she died. She—she was supposed to update me about it when she got back, but she never did." He carded a hand through his hair again. "It could reveal to us more about what happened. Didn't she mention anything about how important this was?"

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. Sena wrote it plainly in her final note to you about how important this necklace was, and keeping it with you. You supposed you could dash out any thought that she stole this from a bank or jewelry store… a mortal one, at least.

What the fuck was this thing made of?

You enclosed your fist around the stone. "So what are you saying?"

"We need to finish what she started." He considered something for a moment, then added, "And you're not safe here."

Something panged in your chest. "I'm not teaming up with you."

Changmin took a couple steps toward you and from this distance, there was an unmistakable ferocity in his gaze. "I would agree with you, but unfortunately, if I want answers and the pendant, then I'm stuck with you."

Your blood pressure spiked. "You're such an ass."

"Ass or not," he drawled, "you can stay here and risk that cretin coming back for you, or you can come with me, and we can figure out what the Hell happened to your sister."

Your bones, your joints—everything ached as you clambered to your feet. God, you were tired. A grave sort of determination trickled into your mind, though, at the thought of getting away from this. It didn't seem like there was much other choice anyway.

#4—SURVIVE THE NIGHT.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THE CAR pulled into the motel parking lot. Your ass was on fire from the long drive, and your mind hazy from sleep deprivation. Fear kept you awake for the entirety of the eight hour trek between home and nowhere. You would have worried about Changmin in the driver's seat, but considering you found out he was a supernatural being literally eight hours ago, your worries consoled themselves.

"This was the best out of the selection," he murmured, barely audibly, as he put the car in park. The glow from the motel lights was the only light for miles, and the red-violet from the neon sign washed over Changmin's sharp side profile like a grungy teen thriller show.

A yawn stretched out of you and you reached for your seatbelt. "Wasn't complaining."

He sent you a pointed look. It was a silent "Really?" You pointedly ignored it.

The two of you clambered out of the car and you massaged your back and butt with reprieve. Your hand reached for the red ruby settled beneath the fabric of your T-shirt, the warm stone solid and present between your fingers. Changmin slammed his side of the car closed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, and you were swift to follow his lead.

Your fingers drummed against the side of your pants just as the main office came into view. There was someone seated behind the front desk with her head buried in her phone and Candy Crush on the screen. You and Changmin walked up to the counter and her head flicked upward.

Her eyes darted between you two and something or other clicked in her head. "Room for two?" She droned, already clacking away on her computer screen.

"Yes please," you sighed. You knew there was no way you were getting around her assumptions.

She smacked the gum in the side of her cheek, twirling around in her chair to reach for a key on the wall behind her. "It'll be thirty bucks," she said, sliding the key across the counter, "and we don't have condoms."

You and Changmin both coughed, heat rushing to your face. "None needed," he muttered as he slid a twenty and ten dollar bill over to her.

You collected the key and checked for the room number. Sleep crept into the corners of your eyes again and they were starting to sting from dehydration.

Changmin eyed you from his peripheral vision and nodded his silent thanks to the girl. He swept an arm loosely around your shoulders to guide you back out to the night beyond the main office. The room you were assigned was on the second floor of a building just a little ways down the complex. It was outfitted with a single queen-sized bed and bathroom, and the lights fortunately worked well enough. You couldn't decide if it was a good thing that you were too tired to assess the cleanliness of this room, but you made a beeline for the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower," you announced, already closing the door.

The last thing you heard was his grunt from the other side.

You dumped your backpack on the lid of the toilet then braced your forearms on the sink counter. The lights in here were a dull gray and made you look sickly in the mirror. Dark bags hung beneath your pinkened eyes—the receptionist probably thought you were drunk or high. Exhaustion hit you like a bus, your limbs sluggish and heavy.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours.

You ripped the shower curtain back and fiddled around with the shower until cold water spouted from the top.

Changmin was a demon. He was Hellspawn. You'd messed around with the idea of him being a pain in the ass before, but you never expected his demon-ness to be true.

When the water warmed as much as it could, you stepped beneath its drizzle. The ruby pendant from your sister sat on your sternum, safe and warm, and you watched it pulse with a glowing scarlet beneath the stream of water.

Your sister.

A few weeks ago, you watched her body lowered into a ditch in the ground. A little before that, you were told her death had been an accident. Now, you were on the run.

From who or what? You weren't completely sure. That was what Changmin was here for. Well, technically he was here for the necklace your sister left with you, but after what happened at your apartment that caused the two of you to go on the run, here you and the necklace were. Plus, the note your sister left explicitly instructed that the necklace be kept with you—on you. (You still weren't too certain of anything.)

When your fingers began to prune, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower to slip on a new set of clothes from your backpack. You went through the motions of getting ready to sleep, too, mind fuzzy and unable to make sense of anything.

You wrestled down a sigh and desire to cry. You were tired, for fuck's sake, you were so tired.

But when you opened the bathroom door, flicking the light off, you paused. The room was dark.

Your breath hitched in your throat and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention. Heart pounding, you took a step into the main room.

"Chang—" A palm closed around your mouth, another cupping the back of your head.

Panicpanicpanic—

A warm breath by your ear. "Calm down. It's just me." Changmin.

Fucking Hell.

You found his eyes as yours grew more accustomed to the dark. His head twisted over his shoulder to the window by the door where you could see silhouettes walking past, silent and stalking.

"Someone's here," he exhaled as he slowly removed his hand from over your mouth. His dark bangs hung in his eyes, his mouth set in a firm line. "They can sense the pendant, I think."

Your heart thundered against your ribcage—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

Changmin's head whipped back toward you and he fished something out of his pocket. He reached for your hand, closing your fingers around something cold and metal. "Slowly put your backpack down and barricade yourself in the closet over there," he instructed quietly, finger pointing in the direction of the sliding doors just to your left. "If it comes to it, use the knife, Yn."

You bit your tongue to keep your breathing as steady as possible. Your hands shook around the switchblade he'd passed to you, and under his sharp eyes, you carefully lowered your bag to the ground without making as much noise as you could. Then, with his go-ahead, you crept as quietly as possible toward the closet.

Just as you reached for the slot in the door, all Hell broke loose.

The window shattered open, the door kicked off its hinges. Your entire body tensed as you dropped to the floor behind the bed, clutching the knife in front of you.

Changmin swore, nice and loud.

Shadows pummeled him to the ground until he was tangled in darkness, like nightmares brought to life. You saw a flash of claws in your view, your scream caught in your throat.

"You."

A blur of shadow whisked across your vision and your eyes went wide.

The creature crawled over the bed and pounced toward you—you rolled away from him, blade held out in front of your body. Oh, there was an awful wave of déjà vu coming over you.

"You are a difficult being to find, pet," the creature hissed. You were beginning to make out its features now—dagger-like eyes, claws that could easily rip flesh apart like cloth, and a maw of knives for teeth. Shit straight out of nightmares.

It cocked its head at you, crouching on the floor a few feet away. Why hadn't it attacked you yet?

"Curious," its scratchy voice croaked. "The master will be pleased when the asset is brought home to her."

The asset? It must have meant the necklace.

You heard a snarl from your right, and in horror, noted the thick, dark liquid splattered all over Changmin's clothes and body. When he snarled at the demons holding him down, you spotted the gleam of fangs.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled, returning back to your main problem. The necklace sat warm and present, the pulses matching your racing heartbeat.

The creature released a sound like grating metal, something akin to a laugh. "Your guardian is more dangerous than he appears," he said instead while tilting its head to the side. "Clever being, that one. Master will be pleased when we bring his rotted corpse home."

You didn't anticipate how quickly it would move. You screamed as the creature dove for you and you swung out of the way. Its claws dug into the meat of your thigh, clinging to the flesh there with all of its might.

Fear struck painfully through your chest and you desperately twisted around to stab the blade into the side of the creature's neck.

It screeched. You drew the knife out to impale it in the back area, messily splattering an arc of its black blood everywhere.

You sucked in a sob as you scrambled backward. Its body dragged along the ground from its claws still sunken into your leg. The body was limp, but your nose wrinkled from the acrid, hot smell reeking from the corpse. It smelled burnt.

You peered at the blade in your fist with new eyes. The silver glowed gold in the darkened room; you shouldn't have expected anything less. Why did you think a mortal weapon could defend you from demonic creatures?

"YN!"

Too late.

Claws sunk into the sides of your throat and trapped your voice there. You thrashed around; panic stabbed your chest. Pathetically, desperately, you reached your arm back to try and drill the blade of your knife into the creature behind you.

Hot blood squelched down your throat—you were losing feeling there. Numb numb numb—it hurt, oh fuck, you were going to die—

All at once, the pressure subsided.

Breath could only flood into your lungs as quickly as blood spilled from your throat. You were choking, eyes wide up at the ceiling.

This was it, this was it. Maybe you'd see your sister in Hell.

A face appeared above you, sweaty but familiar. Your blurry vision couldn't make out the emotions on his face, but you could hear him… boy, could you hear him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, rustling around and adjusting his position above your body.

His rough palms cupped your face. You could hear your heartbeat slowing in your ears. Ba-boom… ba-boom… ba… boom.

"Stay with me," he panted. His left hand pressed against that side of your neck to staunch the blood flow. He sucked in a breath and he ducked out of your view.

You felt a different wet sensation over your open wound. His tongue was rough, yet soothing as he lapped and sucked on the gouge in your throat. Feeling sparked in that area; you could feel your skin physically stitching itself together. If you could squirm, you would have.

He was swift to switch to your other side and copy those actions there. He groaned low against your skin, one hand cupping the side of your head to hold you in place.

Oxygen rushed through your lungs and you gasped. You tore your neck away from his mouth to dry retch. Blood dripped from the side of your lips to the dusty carpet. You had been asphyxiating on your own life force.

You flopped back onto your back, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gestured wildly at the steaming demon carcass still attached to your thigh. "Ple-please," you whimpered. "Please, get it off."

Changmin crawled onto his arms, sliding down toward your leg. "Yeah, sweetheart. I got it."

He looked up at you as he dug his fingers into the creature's skull, ready to pry the thing's claws from you. Something dark was smudged over his face—his nose, cheeks, across his eye. "It's gonna hurt," he warned, voice hoarse.

You moved your head in a microscopic nod.

Tears pricked at your vision, and your leg screamed. Blood filled your mouth even more from the force you used to clamp down on your tongue. Changmin was swift, but gentle as he removed each claw from your thigh, then tossed the body somewhere behind him. He lowered his face to your leg to carefully lap at your wounds like he'd done before.

When he was done, he flopped onto the floor with you, his sigh filling the awful silence.

You could feel everything. It was pulsing all over your body. Your skin, threading together, tingled and ached and throbbed. Your cheeks were damp with tear tracks and your fingers finally loosened their grip on the switchblade. Your mouth was coated in the metallic iron taste of blood.

The only familiar feeling was the pendant on your sternum. The bane of your existence.

"So you have magic spit?" You croaked, your voice scratchy from your sore and bruised throat.

You heard his huff, the closest thing you'd ever heard to a laugh from him. "It's regenerative," he exhaled deeply.

You snorted, then winced when it hurt.

If you could look up, you would've seen the corner of his lips twitch.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

You heard a soft shuffling sound as he clambered upright to lean against the wall. His head thumped against it, eyes fluttered closed. "I don't drink blood, sweetheart."

"I didn't say you drank it."

You grimaced as you struggled to swallow. Reality was swooping in on you like a vulture above a carcass. Doom swirled in your stomach—you almost died just now. You choked on a sob, and you reached up to your face to brush away your tears.

Oh god, everything hurt.

"I want to go home," you whispered. It wasn't even to Changmin, just to whoever could hear you. Homehomehome, but where was home? They could find you anywhere.

A beat passed.

"I'm sorry." Changmin's head hung, either out of exhaustion or genuine regret. "I promised your sister I wouldn't get you involved."

You still couldn't move your head much, so you kept your gaze on the speckled ceiling. "What?"

"I have… had sisters."

You didn't hide your surprise. You didn't think you would ever get anything personal out of this guy, let alone the fact he had family. But his confession planted a seed of sympathy in you… maybe he was human before, or maybe he wasn't at all, but he had family. That had to count for something.

He released another haggard sigh. "So that was one of the few things we could agree on—keeping you out of this unless necessary."

Necessary. You should have never put on the necklace, should have never touched the cursed thing. Now, you were literally chained to it and its fate.

He went quiet again and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he rose to his feet. Taking slow, careful steps, he made his way over to your body.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," he murmured as he tucked his hands under your armpits to haul you upright.

You cursed under your breath at the ache and the blood rushing to your head. Your left leg was pretty much useless, and he had to cup the nape of your neck to his shoulder so you could lean on him.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his breath by your ear again.

You shook your head, pressing your mouth against the muscle of his shoulder. He smelled like demon blood, and you shifted to lean your cheek on him instead, holding in a gag at the wretched stench.

"Okay. Hold on a second."

He helped you sit down on the ledge of the bed, before going around the room to collect things. He plucked up your backpack from the floor, then his own bag, hoisting them both over his shoulders before returning to you. From your vantage, you could see all the limp demon corpses lying on the ground, unmoving. You wrestled down the bile creeping up your throat and looked away.

Changmin scooped you up in his arms with a grunt, and you looped yours around his upper body, tucking yourself into him. "We have to get out of here before someone comes to check this shit out," he said to you as he exited the room.

You gave a nod. "Aren't you tired? Hurt?" You asked, guilt and fear twisting something horrid in your chest.

"Don't worry about me."

"How could I not?"

His lips twitched. "Oh, so you care about me now?"

You closed your eyes against his shoulder. "Don't be an asshole."

"Sure, sweetheart." He made it to the car and instructed you to reach around his back to get the car key hanging from his bag strap. Changmin managed to get the car door open and deposited you in your seat. Your body molded into the material, exhaustion settling once more into your bones and joints.

In a blink, the two of you were back on the road.

Changmin carded a hand through his damp hair as he pulled out onto the barren street. You rolled your head to the side, eyes drinking him in. There were scratches over his exposed skin, barely there, but still present as if they had healed over already. His clothes were splotched and stained, as well as ripped in other places. And of course, there was the blood smeared all over his face, his neck. The bastard didn't even look fazed.

Right, demon. What did that even entail?

Your eyelids were beginning to droop, yanked down by the force of gravity and the human necessity to sleep. You didn't want to sleep though; you didn't want to be attacked a third time. Though most of the adrenaline had dissipated, your shoulders were still tense, your senses alert and unable to relax just yet.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "You should sleep."

You moved your head. "Can't," you rasped.

He reached over then, his palm warm against your head, as he gently brushed his thumb over your eyelids to coax them closed. "You're safe with me, Yn," he promised. You were reluctant to believe him, but after what just happened, at least you knew he could take care of himself and you.

Sleep was already coaxing you into its jaws to devour you, and the pendant under your shirt pulsed to a steady beat to encourage your descent. "Morning will come soon."

All you could do now was trust him.

#5—THE ANGEL BLADE.

THE DINER OFF THE INTERSTATE was like the ones from the movies: red, vinyl seats that squelched when you scooted over them; blind fluorescent lights that flickered every time a fly died against them; people minding their own business as they hunched over grainy coffee and burgers that looked a little too good to be true. You sat across from Changmin, hands laced over the white table surface while he had his arms braided over his chest.

Another eight hours had passed since the motel. You'd found a rest stop to clean up and change clothes on the way, but when you could no longer deny your need for food, Changmin made the executive decision to feed the monster that was your stomach. Executive decision meant he was driving you somewhere to eat something so you wouldn't pass out from stubborn, self-induced hunger.

You're not gonna die if you want fries and chicken tenders, Yn, he'd said with a roll of his eyes.

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the target of every other supernatural being within a fifty mile radius. Perhaps by association, but still.

It was fascinating what a few hours of rest and magical demon saliva could do to help the human body. All of your wounds had pretty much closed up—albeit a tad sore, but nothing as awful as the pain you were in when being clawed in the moment. It was even more fascinating how alive Changmin looked despite literally not being alive. And the fact he hadn't slept a wink within the past day at least.

You, on the other hand, looked like a dumpster fire. Your hair was a bird's nest, eye bags more expensive than Louis Vuitton. Your stomach gave another whining growl; you'd ordered not five minutes ago with a middle-aged woman in too-bright red lipstick and a blue collared dress uniform.

"Are you sure you're not like, a vampire?"

His face dropped into a deadpan you'd seen before. "Oh my God."

"You can say His name?"

Your lips curled into a self-indulgent smile at the way he rolled his eyes so hard, he could probably see his brain back there. (If he had one.) "Sorry."

"You're not sorry," he said, eyebrow arching. "Do you have any real questions?"

Your hands shifted to your lap as your gaze moved to the window next to you. The sky was an ugly, sickly shade of gray-green. It reminded you of the lighting from the first Twilight movie, and you gagged at the thought. The bright red and neon of the diner clashed horridly with the sky, too. All of it was a little disconcerting.

Back in the car, when Changmin was first introducing you to the real world, he'd given you the short version of the supernatural who lived amongst oblivious humans. He hadn't gotten down to the nitty-gritty, just the shit he needed you to know so he could justify hauling you across the state, and to understand all the supernatural creatures after the little pendant resting beneath your shirt collar.

Two mugs of coffee were set onto your table, the dark liquid sloshing over the sides to stain the white below it.

You reached for your mug first, gently cooling it down with a breath. When you took a sip, gingerly, you grimaced. You somehow managed to wrestle the liquid down, but the searing bitterness was enough to make you push the cup away and reach for the sugar packets at the end of the table.

Changmin watched you in amusement, tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you ripped a Stevia packet open. "What're you laughing at?"

"M'not laughing," he shrugged. He picked up his cup of coffee, clinked it against yours for good measure, then chugged the cup of shit in one sitting.

You watched in ill-concealed disgust, horror, and… maybe you were a little impressed.

When he set the drained cup on the table, he wiped his smug mouth with a napkin from the aluminum dispenser.

It was your turn to deadpan. "Show off," you muttered, stirring your artificial sweetener into the dark brown brew.

He shrugged again. "What? Like it's hard?"

"Oh my god, you can be funny."

Your chicken tenders arrived. Steam wafted from them and you closed your eyes to inhale the beautiful smell. Happiness on a plate, you liked to think.

Changmin thanked the waitress who had also delivered him a plate of blueberry pancakes. He eyed you quietly as you inhaled the food on your plate, despite the dull throbbing in your throat.

You caught his gaze, stopping mid-tender. "Want some?" You asked after swallowing the bite, gesturing to your fries.

He shook his head and began buttering up his hotcakes. "Nah. Have at it."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate your separate meals. Changmin had told you before that demons didn't need all the typical things humans needed to "survive" or "live." Technically, since he was undead, there were only a handful of ways he could die. Eating and sleeping were necessary for human life, but they were more so preferences for him. If he wanted to eat, he could eat. If he wanted to close his eyes and dream, he could try.

The thought had you waving a fry at him. "The switchblade," you began, drawing his attention and pancake-stuffed cheeks, "what was it? It definitely wasn't something human-made."

Changmin swallowed his bite. "It was an angel blade."

"You're kidding," you drawled in disbelief.

He challenged your stare. "Believe it or not, it was. Forged up there." He lifted the prongs of his fork up toward the ceiling, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. "So the Big Man Upstairs does exist?"

"I mean, I don't really know. I've never met him if he does. I just know the angels are ruled by the Seraphim," he told you. "Lots of hierarchical bullshit I didn't care to pay attention to."

He impaled another piece of pancake. "Angel blades are one of the few things that can kill a creature like that."

"A demon?" You asked.

"Yes. Lower level demons are easier to kill, especially with a blade like the one I gave you." He shoved the bite into his cheek to continue, "That's why I was able to take on multiple at once."

You made a noise of indignation. "So you're telling me you're a higher level demon?"

His shoulders fell in a half-hearted shrug.

"Helpful," you muttered as you washed your meal down with bittersweet coffee. You paused for a moment, cleaning your fingers off with a napkin. "The… the licking thing."

Changmin's eyes could not meet yours. "Mhm."

"Do you… do you do that often?"

"No," he said curtly. "That party trick only works on humans and I don't really enjoy the taste of blood."

You pursed your lips at his rather clipped response. "Oh." You recalled the sound he'd made as he cleaned your blood up with his tongue at the motel… maybe it was something out of disgust. You suddenly felt out of place, like you had made his shoulders tense up and the air crackle. You racked your brain. "I—thanks, by the way."

With a cough, he murmured, "Welcome. Couldn't have you dying on me."

You nursed your coffee cup, reaching up to absentmindedly fondle the pendant under your shirt. "Yeah."

"Have you ever met an angel?"

The car was quiet as Changmin peered over his shoulder to switch lanes, the blinker tick-tocking away until it was turned off. "Yeah."

You stared out the front windshield to count the white colored cars on the highway amongst you. "What're they like?"

"They're like every other species," he said, unenthused. "Some are more asshole-ish than others. You'll find good ones and bad ones." A sigh. "The ones I've met have largely been the latter though."

"Oh." You weren't sure if you were disappointed by that answer.

The diner had been less than half an hour ago and you were back on the road again. Yours and Changmin's ETA to your sister's safehouse was supposedly another five or so hours. You couldn't believe she owned safehouses. For fuck's sake, she lived with you for majority of the time before she went to study abroad… she probably wasn't even abroad all those times, you realized anxiously.

It was like he could sense your change in mood from bored curiosity to tense overthinking. He dug around in the pocket of his pants and handed you the pommel of the switchblade from the motel. Angel blade, he'd called it.

You glanced at him in question, but he only pushed it into your palms.

"Get comfortable with it," he said. "It's a decent size as far as angel blades goes, since those fuckers don't really like to give them up. It's good for self defense."

The blade looked like something one could buy at a gift shop, slim with some heft, painted a shiny white color. There was no logo on it, but if you looked at it from the right angle, it shimmered. You unlocked it and let the blade whip out of the slot. The blade was shaped like any other box cutter you've seen before, but the underside had a serrated edge for extra ease in slicing through tougher materials. Your finger ghosted over the glowing metal, silver warming to a yellow-orange, but only if you didn't blink in the daylight.

You killed a demon with this. The blade burned the creature.

"How'd you get this if they don't like giving these up?" You asked as you figured out how to put the blade back into its sheath.

His fingers drummed against the wheel. "Won it in a poker game," he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. "Seriously?"

You swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Seriously."

With nothing better to do, you flicked the blade in and out, in and out. You'd only ever really held blades in the kitchen and when opening packages. "Do you have a name for it?"

"A name?"

"Yeah," you said, shifting slightly in your seat as an ache crept into your spinal cord, "y'know like the fantasy books where they name their blades." You inspected the switchblade again, rotating it in your hands. "Looks like a Clyde."

Changmin let out a huff from his nose. "Clyde?"

"What? Got any better ideas?"

"How about we don't name dangerous utilities for murder," he drawled.

"I can't believe you didn't just say 'weapons.'" When he didn't answer you, you made an indignant little noise you hoped annoyed him and admired the angel blade in your hand in a new light. Clyde. Hi, Clyde. You're pretty.

"Don't tell me you're communicating with it," he said to you.

You ran your finger over the flat side again with a fond smile—just to annoy him. "It doesn't give me lip."

A sigh. He tended to do that a lot. "How's your neck?"

Your hand lifted to your throat and massaged it lightly. "It's doing alright. Does it still look bruised?"

You tilted your neck so he could take a good look at it. He eyed the span of flesh there, his dark irises taking on a strange tint. The corner of his mouth curled downward as he turned his focus back to the road. "Yeah."

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore, if that's any better."

"I guess," he grumbled. "Humans are so fragile."

"Hey man," you huffed, "is it my fault that I don't have magic spit or my skin doesn't heal fast—"

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's not magic spit. That's just how human biology reacts to demon saliva." Changmin tapped the back of his hand on the steering wheel as a vague gesture.

You shifted in your seat to look at him and so that you could take pressure off one side of your back. "I have a question. Why does demon saliva have healing properties when usually lore says that you guys are opposite in nature? Actually, that kind of sounds prejudicial," you thought aloud.

"It is prejudicial," he replied. "Well, mostly. It depends on the demon, but we're just like any other species. It's just that most pop culture depicts us as evil. Demons and vampires are derivations of each other in that—"

"So you are a vampire!"

He didn't even try to counter you this time. "Both species have saliva that can heal wounds, not large wounds, but you can probably imagine that vampires use it to seal puncture marks post-meal."

That made sense to you. "But why do demons need it?"

"Human blood…" he trailed off for a moment as he narrowly missed a car zooming past, his glaring eyes trailing after them, "...is like our saliva. It regenerates us. It's kind of like an energy drink, so it's not a necessity, but more so like a luxury or privilege."

You swallowed and you could've sworn you heard a soft huff from his mouth like a laugh. The thought of your blood being like an energy drink for him—and he'd literally licked your wounds clean at the motel that night. Was that how he was able to heal so quickly? It was a marvel he hadn't drunk you dry. But then again, he'd also said blood wasn't his taste…?

"Are you sure you don't like human blood?" You asked, sounding like a broken record, but more apprehensively this time.

"Sweetheart, you really think you'd still be here if I did?"

Touché.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Changmin stiffen. His hands tightened the slightest amount around the steering wheel, his eyes darting from the front windshield to the rearview mirror.

"What?" You asked, taking a look through the side mirror on your side. "What's wrong?"

Changmin's face washed over in a careful blankness. "We're being followed."

Your whole body tensed and you had to physically restrain yourself from twisting around in your seat. "What?"

"Hey, stay calm." He flicked his turn signal on casually as he exited off the freeway.

"Why are you telling them where we're going?!" He was literally signaling to whoever was following you exactly your next move.

"Just because we're on the run, doesn't mean we shouldn't follow basic driving safety."

You sent him a very emboldened stink eye. "Out of all the times, you choose now to have a sense of humor and to be an upstanding citizen?" Where was this during the entire road trip thus far?

Changmin made no other comments as he turned right onto the street leading further away from the freeway. You sat quietly for a moment, monitoring the cars behind you from your side mirror. Your knee started bouncing as you took note of the white sedan following behind, not tailgating, but its intentions were clear enough where even you could pick it out.

"What're we gonna do?" You murmured.

Changmin glanced over at you briefly. "We're gonna be fine. We just have to lose them."

"No shit."

"And you say I give you lip?"

Without any forewarning, Changmin jerked the car to the left, practically zooming across the intersection to catch the yellow light. Your whole body sailed across the center console, and before you could give him a piece of your mind, he was sending you crashing into your doorway from another sharp turn. You glared daggers at him, but turned to peer out your window.

The white car was still following after you. They must have run the red light then.

Changmin's sharp eyes sliced across the rearview mirror, and his foot lowered on the gas pedal like a challenge. His eyes whipped back and forth for somewhere he could go next, brain working double the speed. "Hold onto something, sweetheart."

"I don't think that would—HELPPP!" You sputtered and yanked on the handle above the door, hugging yourself to that side of the car.

You could hear the tires of Changmin's car burn rubber and squeal as he zigzagged through streets. You were pretty sure half of this was residential, you thought as the landscape blurred past.

"Do you even know where—" You swore as your body flailed around from another one of his god awful swerves, "—we are?"

He shook his head and floored the gas. "Nope."

Great.

It was about fifteen minutes of this supposed drag racing before his driving finally began to even out. You were seconds from hurling up diner food when you realized…

"Where the fuck did the trees come from?" You asked, lowering your tense form from the door handle.

You pressed your nose against the window to gawk up at the towering trees on your side of the vehicle, all dark green and beautiful. A light fog clung to some of the leaves, making the sunlight streaming through them look like golden strands of gossamer. The road you drove on held to the side of the mountain, but from what you could tell, Changmin had officially lost the white sedan.

Changmin visibly relaxed. "You might wanna pull up a GPS."

You reached over to your phone in the cupholder. But you pretty much tossed it right back. "No bars. Where did you take us?" You didn't even realize there was so much forest in this area. How come you hadn't seen it from the highway?

He gave a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Shit."

The car sunk into silence. Changmin could do nothing else but follow the road until you hit civilization or some kind of sign as to where you two were. You hadn't been in this part of the state before, so it wasn't like you could point out any landmarks. But as you both continued along, you settled into a sort of calm—the trees here were beautiful, untouched by man. Even from inside the car, you could feel the serenity.

Your finger pressed down on the button on your door to lower the window. You stuck your head out, hair flowing behind you. With a great inhale, your mouth broke into a smile. It smelled just as gorgeous as it looked. Fresh and clean and—

"You've got to be shitting me."

You pulled yourself back into the car and raised the window back up. "What?"

Changmin's mouth was set in a firm line, a dimple pressing deep into his cheek. "Wolves."

Your brows knitted together. "Huh?"

"We're in wolf shifter territory."

Just as he said this to you, the car rounded the side of the bend and revealed a large green sign that read: WELCOME TO MOONSTONE CREAK! Population 276.

The sign following it did not make you feel any better: CAMPERS! BEWARE OF WOLVES.

#6—BEWARE OF WOLVES.

AT THE FIRST SIGN OF WOLVES, you sunk low in your seat. You'd made eye contact with one of the furry creatures hidden in the brush, their sharp predator eyes narrowing at the sight of a foreign entity in their woods.

"By wolf shifters," you said quietly, holding onto Clyde in your lap, "you mean like… werewolves?"

Changmin's eyes stayed on the road ahead, but every once in a while, you would catch him scanning the forest, too. "Those aren't the same things. Werewolves are the things you read about in lore, half-man and half-wolf. Wolf shifters can change completely from man to wolf and vice versa."

"Oh." Well, that cleared some things up. "I'm guessing they don't take kindly to trespassers?"

He bit his lip. "I mean, it depends on the pack. If my hunch is right about where we are though, we shouldn't have to worry."

You gulped. "And if you aren't?"

"Well, I told you to get used to that angel blade, right?"

The trek further into the forest and mountains continued. The scenery around you was still as stunning as it was before, and you thought to yourself how dangerous a beautiful thing could be. Every time you peeked out of the car window, you saw a flash of something in the woods beyond the road. There had to be a reason why they hadn't attacked the car yet, right? If this was a pack of wolves who didn't like trespassers, then why were you and Changmin still alive?

Maybe they wanted you in a place where there was no chance of outsiders hearing you scream…

Your intrusive thoughts were getting to you.

There was a dead end, a near broken road sign and fence directing all passers-by that this was the end. Changmin was forced to take the off-road path, beaten into the dirt as it wound through the forest. If you didn't have signal up on the main road, you definitely would not have any here.

It was a few more minutes of traveling down the path that two wolves appeared before the car. Changmin brought the vehicle to a slow halt. The wolves were relatively large, spanning about six feet and about as tall as the bottom rim of the car door window. One of the wolves had black hair like a raven, and the other had hair like a field of grain.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as the wolves stared right at you. "Changmin…?"

He met their staring contest with little intimidation. "It's… it's fine. I think they recognize me."

After a moment, the two wolves broke their strange staring contest and trotted off to the side of the road. They were back so quickly, you almost didn't realize what had happened. Like magic, they had transformed into two toned young men, both nicely built with their lean upper body on display. They must have had a strategic stash of shorts hidden behind a tree for after they shifted to their human forms. One had cropped black hair, the other blond. Well, at least that made sense.

Changmin slumped in his chair, relieved. The corners of his mouth curled upward in an almost-smile, as the two wolf shifters came over to greet him at his window.

The brunette bent his head down to the window with a broad smile, the kind that made your stomach fill with butterflies. (Not to mention the eyeful of abs you and Changmin were getting…) He leaned his arms over the top of the car window, eyes flickering from the demon to you. "Long time no see, Changmin. Who's your friend?"

"That's Yn," your demon guardian said, clasping one of the man's hands in greeting. He reached for the second wolf shifter. "Haknyeon, nice to see you, too."

"Good to see you, Changmin" said the blond.

Oh, so he knew them.

Changmin gestured to the two men. "Yn, this is Kevin and Haknyeon. They're with the pack."

"Not that we're unhappy to see you," Kevin drawled, "but how did you find us?"

Okay, wait. If Changmin knew them, then why wouldn't he know the location of their pack? You sat quiet, waiting for someone to explain it to you… or just explain everything to you.

"Someone was following us and I lost them," Changmin told them, "but I managed to get us lost, too. Coincidence that we ended up here. I'm glad it's you guys and not another pack."

Kevin's eyebrows flew up. "Yeah, for sure. Well—" he turned his head up toward the treetops and scanned the skies. They were beginning to bruise like your skin as the sun sank somewhere amongst the trees and into the horizon. You hadn't even realized how dark it was starting to get. "—sun's already pretty low right now. Why don't you guys shack up with us tonight and then we'll help you out in the morning?"

"That would be great actually." Wow, really? You kept your surprise at bay. "Lead the way."

With no further discussion needed, Kevin and Haknyeon disappeared behind the same large tree trunk from before, then re-emerged as the wolves from before. Kevin, the one with black colored fur, pointed with his snout in the direction the path would take you. The two wolves began to trot down the path, and Changmin waited for them to get somewhat ahead before he flicked his headlights on and followed.

It was a curious act of consideration, you thought.

You watched as the wolves began to pick up speed, your eyes flickering to the speedometer. "So…" you drawled, "what the fuck just happened?"

A sharp huff, his version of a laugh. "They're old friends," he said.

"How'd you not know this was where their pack was if they're old friends?"

"I met them out of the pack," he explained. "It was somewhere in the New England area, and we just happened to be hunting the same thing."

Hunting? Oh, bounty hunter. Right. "And the—the shifting thing."

"What about it?"

You made a face of frustration. He always made you pull teeth when you wanted background information. "Everything."

He glanced at you. "I think it'd be better if one of them explained it to you. Better to have one of their own say it right than risk me getting something wrong."

That was, unfortunately, a very fair answer.

Instead of pushing on the wolf topic, you had more questions that he could answer. "So what now? Are we just gonna stay the night? Is it safe?" What if that white car found a way in here? Neither of you could see who the driver was, and so how could either of you be sure they weren't trying to perhaps get you both here? And if they also had the means to come in here without being marked as trespassers?

"It's safe," he said with such confidence that you arched your brows. He saw your expression, making a soft turn along the road as the wolves had, the pads of his fingers lifting off the steering wheel for a second in gesture. "I know what you're probably thinking, but it's safer than sleeping out in a motel off the highway, alright? Packs usually don't drive cars, and they have maybe one or two for convenience sake. They can smell trespassers from miles away, and they usually have people on watch all the time, which is how they found us so quickly."

You supposed that made sense. The forest here seemed denser, and with the quickly fading light, it made it all the more unnavigable. If you were to try to run… good fucking luck.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. As the car rounded the bend, yours and Changmin's faces illuminated with the glow of light.

The town was laid out flat before you, not over a ridge, not over a mountain, but a path that led into a central meeting place with wooden buildings all around it. The lights were all from candle-lit lanterns rather than the LEDs and fluorescents of the human world. There were a mixture of both wolves and people milling about, an air of warm cheeriness that you could feel even from the car. You felt a fuzziness manifest in your chest at the sight.

Kevin and Haknyeon directed Changmin toward a back road to the right behind a row of buildings. It was most likely to avoid getting in the way of the pack members, you guessed. You kept silent as you averted your eyes from the void-like darkness of the forest beyond to your right.

Up ahead, you saw the two wolves trot into a small paved area with one other car parked along the walkway. It seemed to be like a makeshift alleyway of sorts between two blocks of buildings. With some maneuvering, Changmin managed to parallel park into the space that was just big enough for his vehicle.

When he parked, he gestures for you to follow his lead and get out of the car. "You should be safe to come out with me. We'll probably meet the pack alpha and get everything settled—" His head tilted to the side, "—hopefully."

Your eyes shuttered. "Hopefully?" You echoed. Pack alpha? What the fuck did that entail? From what you remember in the books and shows, you thought to yourself as you clambered out of the car and stretched your sore limbs, wolf packs had an alpha that would lead everyone. You weren't sure if you would have to go through some kind of cult initiation or something to be granted permission to stay the night.

The angel blade sat tucked into the pocket of your pants along with your phone, and you slammed your car door shut. From here, you could peer down the alley and see out into the glowing atmosphere of the town center. It sounded like fun, actually—all of the chatter and laughter. You hadn't been anywhere so lively-sounding in awhile.

"Yn right?"

You startled a little, whirling around to find the brunette—Kevin was his name—smiling at you sheepishly. He was back in human form with a pair of shorts and a plain white T-shirt on. "Sorry I snuck up on you," he said.

"Oh, it's totally fine!" You laughed bashfully, smoothing a hand down your hair. "And yes, I'm Yn. You're Kevin, right?"

Man, he was so much prettier up close…

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Changmin says this is all pretty new to you." He gestured loosely to the world around him, an all encompassing notion to the entire world you had just unearthed beneath your nose.

Your eyes darted behind Kevin where Changmin and Haknyeon were gathered on the other side of the car, pulling yours and Changmin's bags out the backseat. Changmin caught your eyes, lifted his eyebrows, then returned to his conversation.

So he was just gonna leave you in the hands of the very handsome wolf shifter? Cool.

"Yeah, it's kind of a crazy story," you mused. Understatement of the century. "Thanks for taking us in, by the way.

"It's no worries," he chirped. "Changmin and us? We go back pretty far, I'd like to think."

"Oh, cool! He mentioned something about that… and something about meeting the pack alpha?"

Kevin's eyes flickered to something behind you, and you turned around to see what or who it was on instinct. "It's nothing to stress about—he's coming this way, actually."

You felt his hand, warm and large, gently settle between your shoulder blades to guide you toward the two men making their way down the alley toward you both.

One of them… well you could feel the subtle shift in the air. It was as if molecules in the air moved for him. He boasted a powerful sort of stature, with dark hair parted neatly to frame a carved face. For a moment, you didn't know if you were supposed to bow or something, but then he smiled, and you nearly fell over from that alone. He wasn't so scary once he smiled.

The man next to him was a lighter brunette with a cheery expression engraved onto his face as if that were his default setting. There was something about him, however—you thought he glowed a little in the dim light. The angel blade in your pocket seemed to warm slightly at the sight of him.

(So was everyone just super attractive in the supernatural world?)

"Changmin-ah," greeted the man with darker colored hair. He clasped his hand with Changmin's in greeting. "It's been awhile."

"It has," your demon counterpart agreed. "Thanks for taking us in on such short notice. I wouldn't have intruded had I known."

The man brushed the thought away. "It's okay, really. Nice to have a couple new faces around."

"Speaking of new faces," drawled the second man. He beamed a pretty smile your way, waving. "Hi, little one."

Something warm blossomed in your chest. "Hi," you said softly. You weren't certain of etiquette—if you were expected to speak for yourself, to bow…

But it seemed Kevin had your back. He clasped his warm hand on your shoulder. "This is Yn. She came in with Changmin."

"Nice to meet you, Yn. I'm Sangyeon." This was the man with black hair, who felt like the tangible version of power. He must have been the pack alpha. He had to be.

The other man placed a hand on his chest. "And I'm Jacob!"

"We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Changmin piped up. He tucked his hands into his pockets, eyes shifting over to yours.

"Well, why don't we head over to the pack house and we can talk about all the details of a plan," said Sangyeon. He inclined his chin in the direction of where you assumed the pack house was. Then his eyes, you watched their keen movements, latched onto Kevin's as if they were communicating silently. "Yn," you nearly jolted when you realized he was addressing you. "Kevin's gonna take you to the small inn we have here. It'll give you a little more privacy, and I'm sure you've felt pretty overwhelmed."

It didn't sound like he was asking you, but there was a warmth to his smile. You couldn't help but feel inclined to agree.

Changmin's head went on a swivel. "Wait, she's not coming with us?"

Haknyeon and Jacob were already rounding on either side of him to guide him in the opposite direction Kevin was leading you. Something in the back of your head made you turn over your shoulder to look at him. Was being separated such a bad thing?

Haknyeon suddenly tossed Kevin your backpack, the latter shouldering it.

"Come on, Yn," Kevin chirped, angling his body as he nudged you along so you could no longer see Changmin. "There's a lovely hearth in the main lobby, and the auntie who runs the place makes the best cookies ever."

You nodded slowly as your brain struggled to think of any reason why they would separate you from Changmin. And why did he sound so surprised? Your hand drifted toward the pocket that hid your angel blade. "Oh, really? That sounds nice."

They didn't drug them, did they? Your shoulders tensed at the idea.

Why did they separate you and Changmin—

The inn was the building right outside the alley with a porch that spanned the front facade. The architecture reminded you of an upscale cabin with large oak logs piled atop each other to make up the structure. A warm light emitted from the front windows and glass doors, and you swore you could smell the cookies from here.

When you and Kevin entered the building, he called out a greeting to an older woman stationed behind a reception desk in the back corner. She greeted the both of you with a cordial smile, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Her head tilted curiously at you, however, her eyes zeroing in on…

Your attention was drawn away and you were directed toward the seating area on the other side of the lobby.

"Can I get you any water or anything?" Kevin asked you as he motioned for you to take a seat in the armchair adjacent to him. He set your backpack at your feet for you.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the seat, hand reaching for the pendant beneath your shirt—you stopped short. Could he sense the power of the pendant? Was that why they separated you from your demon bodyguard? Oh fuck—

"Hey, hey," Kevin suddenly said softly, face morphing into an expression of concern. "No need to get panicked, okay? You're safe now."

Wait. What? You wrung your hands in your lap, heart still throwing itself up against your ribcage. "Safe? What do you mean safe? Safe from what?"

Kevin considered you for a moment, but the gentleness from his voice and body language never left. "You're safe from Changmin."

"Safe from Changmin?"

"Yes," he affirmed patiently. "The bruises on your neck—"

Your hand went to cover the side of your throat where it had been pierced by the maw of a demon, but not Changmin.

"��does he feed from you? They look fresh—"

You immediately put your hands up to gesticulate in wild opposition. "Oh, no, no, no. He—he didn't feed from me; he saved my life, actually. We were attacked by other demons and I was bleeding out, and he just closed the wounds. He… he isn't, uhm… yeah."

Kevin's posture changed, and his smile became relieved—sheepish even. "Well, shit. I'm sorry for assuming, Yn; it's just that a lot of people end up here because they're in unhealthy relationships, and I saw the marks on your neck and just assumed the worst." He cupped the back of his neck. "This must have been really confusing for you. Sorry about that."

Okay, now that made a lot more sense. Your adrenaline was slowly teetering out and the tension left your shoulders. "No, please, that's honestly really nice that you would help victims like this. It did give me a little scare, but… yeah no, this wasn't Changmin's doing."

"That eases my mind a lot," he chuckled. Then he turned and nodded to the auntie behind the reception desk. You watched as she disappeared out the doors of the inn. "She's just gonna let Sangyeon know that everything's good."

"I thought you said you and Changmin go way back…?" Did they not trust him?

Kevin leaned back in his armchair. "We do. It's just protocol, you know? Whether or not we know them, it doesn't matter."

That was good for victims, you thought. Though, you couldn't imagine what they were really discussing with Changmin then… "So Changmin…"

"Sangyeon, Jacob, and Haknyeon would have taken care of him if I told them he was harming you," he replied, lips pressed together. "They really are talking about how you both ended up here though—that, and plans for the morning."

It was like he could read your mind.

A lot had happened just now, and you were still reeling from the fact that you didn't need to prepare to run. Though, you were still hyperaware of Clyde's warmth in your pocket.

Kevin noticed your far-off expression. He leaned forward onto his knees, that kind smile of his curling onto his face and making you feel some sort of woozy. "I know it's probably been a lot for you. Do you have any questions for me?"

He was so different from Changmin. While with the demon getting information was like pulling teeth, here was Kevin offering you information. They were polar opposites, really. You wondered what it might have been like if Kevin had been the one to take you on this quest instead—your mind shuttered. What a strange thought. Changmin might have been a pain in your ass in the beginning (and still now), but… it wasn't like he hadn't protected you. You didn't know.

"I guess," you started, "what's gonna happen now?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Well, uhm, I think we're both gonna find out once Changmin gets back. See what they've all decided on. But for sure, you and he will be able to shack up here for the night."

You gave a slow nod. "Is Sangyeon the pack alpha? Kind of a stupid question—"

"It's not a stupid question at all," Kevin said. "But yes, he's the pack alpha. You can just consider him as a community leader, essentially."

"And you're all wolf shifters?"

A nod, then he paused, tilting his head. "Yes, but Jacob's not a wolf shifter; he's an angel."

Your eyebrows flew up. Everything was suddenly making a lot more sense. "An angel? So he and Changmin aren't, like, mortal enemies or anything?" You hadn't noticed any wings on him…

Kevin laughed. "Oh, you're cute. No, thankfully they are not mortal enemies. Jacob's too nice to have enemies."

"Even someone like Changmin?" You jested.

"Even someone like Changmin," he said, humoring you. "Speaking of the demon, you two aren't…?"

You sucked in a breath. "Definitely not. We're not together or anything. It's a long story, but our meeting and traveling together is just because of a common goal." You couldn't tell why the thought of you and Changmin being an item made your heart cartwheel. Perhaps it was simply the anxiety of being thought of as Changmin's significant other that made you want to jump to correct that assumption. Yes, that was it.

Kevin bit his bottom lip like he was trying to hide a smile. "Ah, I see. That's good to know."

"And why's that?" You asked.

You could have sworn if he was in wolf form, his ears would have been tucked against his head. "Nothing!" He insisted. "It would just be a shame to not take a chance when it's presented, you know?"

You weren't quite sure what he meant by that, but for some reason, you were eager to find out.

It was late still when Changmin knocked on your open door, lingering on the threshold. You had just stepped out of the shower in the private en suite your accommodations had, a towel settled upon your shoulders to act as a barrier between your wet hair and dry clothes. He didn't look any worse for wear—then again, he never did.

"Everything okay with Kevin?" He asked, clearing his throat. You felt his eyes on you, scanning your body as if searching for any signs out of the ordinary.

You were searching for your phone charger in your bag. "Yeah, it was good. What—what happened with you?" You asked and lifted your eyes to meet his as you fondled the cord between your fingers.

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Well," he drawled, "Sangyeon offered to send a small group out to scout for any signs of our pursuers from today. In the meantime, we're invited to stay here to recuperate for a couple days. If not, then they'll restock our supplies and help us out of here."

"I'm guessing you already made a decision." You paused when you realized there weren't any outlets in this room. Anywhere. A curse fell from your lips and you dumped your cord and dead cell phone into your bag.

"I figured you could use the rest," he said.

Your head whipped upward.

He arched a brow at you. "If that's alright with you."

Was he really asking you? No buts, no ifs, no snark? "Yeah, that's fine with me."

"Maybe a couple days here will be good for your frail, human body anyway."

There it is. You rolled your eyes so far back, you swore you saw your brain waving at you. "And maybe some fake demon sleep will make you less grouchy."

You thought he smiled. It could have been a trick of the light or sleep deprivation. "Whatever."

Just when it seemed like he was about to turn and leave, he stopped. "Kevin's taken a liking to you."

You stilled, attention piqued. "Really? How could you tell?"

Changmin gauged your reaction, and again, you couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. "You need to sleep."

"Wait, you're just gonna ignore my—and he's gone." You huffed and collapsed onto the bed. It was awfully comfortable.

Leave it up to Changmin to leave you high and dry like that.

You rolled over the surface of the bed to close your door. Quietly, you went around the room to close the knobs of the lanterns to put out the lights like Kevin had showed you earlier. The only light now came from outside the window, the campfire and lanterns in the pack center streaming through the shutters to create an elongated stripe pattern along the walls and floors.

You climbed into bed—it was a strange, but welcomed feeling.

Only a couple days without a bed, yet it felt like years had passed. You could only hope you didn't wake up to a demon at your throat this time.

#7—THE ONLY ONE.

WOLVES BEAT EVEN THE SUN from her slumber, you came to find out. The next morning, you rolled out of bed to hear the sound of muffled voices outside your window. Your body ached in places you didn't even think they could ache, and you stretched your arms up over your head as you opened the shutters.

Just a little off from your window stood a small gathering of creatures, both in human and wolf forms. You recognized Kevin as one of the human ones among them. It was the noise of your open shutter that had him turning his head up toward your window. He saw you there, and a smile blossomed on his face, bright and easy. He wasn't wearing a shirt again, as was the other man standing beside him. The other two in their group were wolves.

Kevin waved at you, catching the attention of the others with him. The man beside him beamed and waved, too.

You chuckled to yourself and returned the gesture.

Kevin beckoned you down with his hand.

You searched the window sill for the latch, muttering in triumph when you managed to notch it open.

He had walked over to stand directly below your window by the time you stuck your head out. "Good morning!" He chirped. "Good sleep?"

"Good morning, and so far I think so," you mused, unconsciously smoothing down your hair. You hadn't even checked the state of your bed head. Yikes.

"There's breakfast in the pack house if you'd like," he offered. "I can walk you over?"

You leaned your cheek against your fist. "Sounds great. Give me some time to get ready."

"Take your time!"

You locked the window back up, dropped the shutters, and hurried to get changed. It occurred to you, as you were getting yourself prepped and primed to face another day in a new world, that you hadn't felt so giddy in awhile. And about a boy nonetheless. The skip in your step was crazy to you, and—did you even have anything nice to wear?

You just managed to yank one of the nicer of your graphic tees over your head when you heard a knock at the door.

"Just a second!" You called, carding your fingers through your hair and separating into three so you could braid it out of your face.

You ripped the door open. "Hi."

Changmin stood on the other side looking slightly refreshed with his dark hair damp and plastered over his forehead. His eyes narrowed slightly at your lightened countenance, the way you actually cared about how you were doing your hair, the… everything. He sent you a look. "Breakfast is in the pack house, but I have a feeling you already knew that."

"Yeah, I was just headed down, actually." You stepped out into the hallway with him, closing your bedroom door behind you. Clyde sat in your pocket, replacing where your phone would have been stashed had it any use.

He cocked his head to the side. "You seem a lot more…" He made a gesture with one of his hands. "Alive."

"Well, considering I don't have magic regeneration—"

"Forget I said anything," he said, shaking his bangs from his eyes and beginning to walk down the corridor toward his room. "Go get sustenance, Yn."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You watched him disappear into his room before you made your way to the stairs.

Kevin was waiting for you in the lobby, perking up when you appeared on the stairway landing and made your descent. He took a couple steps to meet you in the middle, and you noticed that he had found a shirt to put on. Damn. "Hope you like waffles," he said as the two of you fell into step beside each other to head out of the inn.

"Love 'em."

It seemed that the entirety of Moonstone Creak was awake, even at such an early hour. The sun had yet to even clamber up above the treetops, leaving the sky a soft mesh of purple and orange. The air was as fresh as it had been yesterday, cool and pure, washing your lungs and waking you up some more.

"Is everyone awake so early?" You asked him, inhaling as much of the peace as you could.

Kevin nodded. "Pretty much, unless you're just coming back from a night watch. We usually encourage the pups to come out and exercise with us."

"Us?"

"The pack's primary watch," he clarified. "You probably saw me talking to a few of them earlier."

"Ah," you hummed. "That's nice though. You're all such a lovely community… It's refreshing."

His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you. "Thank you. I like to think we're a really big family."

You could see as much. By the way Kevin greeted all of his fellow pack members, a part of you wondered what it might have been like to grow up somewhere like this instead of always chasing after safety and security.

You and your sister had always got by somehow, but it had never been like this. With your parents gone so early in both of your lives, you only really had each other to rely on, besides the occasional aunt and uncle who took turns caring for the both of you until your sister turned 18. And now with your sister gone?

For some reason, it felt like you were still taking care of her in death. But perhaps that was the cost of seeking closure.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when they said pack house, but what you saw was about what it sounded like it was going to be. It was similar to the inn and many of the buildings around the area with its log cabin likeness, but this one was much, much larger. You could hear the squeals of children from out here, and there were smaller wolves chasing each other's tails around the wraparound porch. A few stopped to sit and cock their heads at you as you passed, their tails tick-tocking behind them.

It was strange seeing wolves carry around infants and toddlers in their hulking jaws, too, and Kevin chuckled when you almost stopped in your tracks. "It's no harm to them, don't worry."

"Yeah," you laughed nervously, fingering the pendant at your sternum. "It'll take some getting used to. Are you born as a wolf or as a human?" You asked him as the two of you stepped up the front steps of the porch and walked through the entryway.

"Depends—woah, hey guys. Careful!" Kevin clicked his tongue as he caught and lifted one of the younger boys off his legs just before he accidentally knocked over a table holding a vase of flowers.

The kid and his friend giggled as Kevin put him down away from the table. "Sorry Kevin!" And they were gone, out the front door.

He shared a smile with you, cupping the back of his neck. "Where was I?" He gestured to your right down a hallway; you could smell the sweetness and buttery goodness of breakfast. "Oh, right. It depends: since wolves and humans are mammals, giving birth is a little easier than other non-mammal shifters."

"Non-mammal shifters?" Your eyebrows shot up. "What other shifters exist?"

"Any you can think of, to be honest," he said. "All pups learn about their own growth and development though, especially since learning to shift and stay in touch with both their animal and human sides is so integral. It would probably be better if I connected you with someone who identifies as female to talk about birth specifically though," he admitted.

The kitchen was painted a pale shade of yellow that reflected the golden rays of sun and made the whole room much warmer and brighter. There was a mishmash of wolves and humans milling about the central island where a buffet-style breakfast was being served. The variety of food before you was enough to make even—as you liked to think—Changmin's mouth water. (He didn't need to eat, your ass. You saw the blueberry pancakes on the far end and wondered if he had some yet.)

Kevin passed you one of the plates stacked at the end before grabbing one for himself. "Lily, thank you for breakfast!"

Lily, you identified, was the woman leaning against the sink with a pale blue apron tied around her waist and baby bump. "You're welcome! Haknyeonie helped out, too."

Haknyeon's blond head poked in from where he was partly hiding in the butler's pantry, his cheeks stuffed with food. "Hm?"

You laughed to yourself as you started off by transferring a waffle to your plate. "Yes, thank you so much for breakfast. It looks delicious."

"Oh, no need for that," Lily beamed as she came over to the island across from you and put more food onto your plate. "Take more, please. We have so much to go around."

"Oh," you blinked, watching Kevin start to pile things onto his own plate. "It's so much; I don't want to take more than I can finish—"

"I'll help you finish," Kevin offered, shoving a strawberry into his mouth. "I'm sorry if it seems like we're pressuring you, though. I guess we're all just used to making sure the other is fed around here."

You could melt like a slab of butter between two warm hotcakes. "Thank you—I appreciate the thought."

Kevin ruffled your hair as the two of you continued around your tour of the island. "Of course."

From the entryway you had just come in, Sangyeon arrived whistling an offhanded tune under his breath. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Good morning!" Chorused around the kitchen at differing intervals as everyone greeted their pack alpha.

Sangyeon beelined around the island and over to Lily, the two of them exchanging fond touches and a warm kiss in greeting. "Morning, love."

"Good morning," Lily said. "Eaten yet?"

The dots connected in your head and you nudged Kevin as the two of you finished up at the island. "Lily and Sangyeon—?"

"Yeah, she's our alpha female," Kevin confirmed. "Six months pregnant. They celebrated nuptials about a year ago."

"Ah." You didn't mean to stare, but they were such a beautiful couple. Though you thought Sangyeon's smile was warm, it was nothing compared to the one he saved just for his partner.

He must have felt your eyes on him, and he lifted his gaze to yours while he held one of Lily's hands. "Yn, sleep well?"

Your eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yes. Yes, thank you."

"All of your accommodations are to your satisfaction, I hope?"

"More than satisfied," you stammered with a sheepish smile; he was talking to you, right? Everything was way beyond what you had been living with for the past couple of days. A demon-infested motel or this? Well, no competition there. You could still feel the impression of Changmin's passenger seat in your back.

Sangyeon nodded. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. I was hoping to speak with you and Changmin after breakfast about your situation. It'll be with myself and my closest advisors, plus the two of you."

"Yes, of course," you said. "Does Changmin already know?"

"I'll have someone run and let him know."

You and Kevin were dismissed to go forth with breakfast. The two of you settled in a room next door to the kitchen fitted with a long dining table that reminded you of a cartoon rich people banquet table. You sat adjacent to each other, Kevin at the head, and you with the seat to his left.

You smeared butter over the slots of your waffle. "Do I have to worry about what Sangyeon's gonna talk about at the meeting?"

Kevin shoved his bite into his cheek. "To my knowledge, no, but if you're worried, Sangyeon's advisors are a pretty cool crowd."

"Oh yeah?" You asked.

His lips turned up as he chewed. "Mhm," he hummed before swallowing, "I should know since I'm one of them."

Sangyeon had an office deep within the first floor of the pack house. It was tucked away somewhere between the living room in the back and the door down to the wine cellar. (Kevin joked that the first pack alpha had planned the layout of the first floor deliberately.)

Following your hearty breakfast, you found yourself seated in one of the armchairs in the leader's office chambers, amongst Changmin (in the chair next to you) and the other members of the so-called inner circle. Kevin lingered nearby, leaning against the office's hearth with his arms and ankles crossed idly. It seemed that the advising board included not just Kevin, but also Jacob, Lily, and someone named Juyeon. You learned that he was out on night guard when you came in last night, so you weren't able to properly meet him until now.

Sangyeon stood next to the office chair seated behind the grand, mahogany desk; Lily was automatically given the chair because of her pregnancy, and because she'd been working all morning. "Concerning the white sedan you said was trailing after you two yesterday—" he said, "—none of our scouts could follow a solid scent past the freeway entrance. It was interesting, actually."

Changmin leaned forward onto his forearms. "How so?" He asked, eyebrows creasing.

Sangyeon nodded to Juyeon, who filled in, "Well, we couldn't figure out what their scent is."

"How is that even possible?"

You blinked, brain whirring into overdrive. There was something you were missing yet again. What was the context here?

Kevin stepped over to your side and murmured to you, "We can usually pick apart scents to identify the layers, so this is why it's… concerning."

"Ah," you nodded. "Thanks."

"It was distinct for sure," Juyeon supplied with a vague gesture of his hands, "but it was nearly impossible to tell what species they were. It was easy enough picking apart the entity from the car smells—" Exhaust fumes, metal, seats, you assumed, "—and we could follow the smell as far as the entrance to the highway you guys came from, but…" He shook his head. "No-go. In all my years, I've never come across anything like it."

The helplessness that settled into the grooves of the room made you squirm, and your fingers fondled the red pendant at your collar again. Here was a space of the all-powerful, and yet, something as simple as a scent was throwing them all for a loop. You couldn't begin to wrap your head around the implications, because, well—you didn't know the implications.

(Dark. You were always sitting in the dark.)

Changmin passed you a glance, and you couldn't tell what he was thinking, as usual. "There has to be a way to somehow analyze it. Could we consult a witch?"

"I've already called an old friend," said Lily. "They're on their way over presently."

"Could I see the pendant?" Jacob's voice carried out into the room. Though he himself was soft-spoken, one could not mistake his volume. Everyone's attention cut over to you, and you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth beneath your feet. "If that's okay," he added. "It feels familiar."

"Feels?" You echoed, gripping the stone in your hand. The chain dug into the flesh of your neck as you anxiously yanked on it.

Changmin's eyes darted from the stone to you. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" You were overwhelmed; that was what you thought. You fisted it in your hand, suddenly reluctant to part with the thing that had caused you so much trouble as of late. You felt… an uncanny urge to keep it in your possession. "Uhm… you can see it, but I won't take it off."

Your devilish counterpart narrowed his eyes slightly, cocked his head to the side, at your behavior. He didn't say anything though, as if this truly was just all your decision. Perhaps this was because he knew that you weren't exactly buddies with these people yet. In retrospect, they were still strangers, and thus, potential threats to you.

Jacob took easy strides over to you from where he was standing by the desk. He passed you a reassuring smile as he knelt in front of you, close enough that you could see the eyelashes brush his cheeks. There was something warm radiating from him, and you swore you saw a flash of gold in his eyes.

Angel, right.

He rose up on his knees, holding out his hand, but not touching you. "May I?"

You pinched the part of the pendant attached to the chain and stuck it out toward him.

Jacob's eyebrows knitted together as he touched the pendant with only the tips of his fingers. You held your breath throughout the entirety of his assessment. When he finally leaned back onto his haunches, you blinked away whatever angelic warmth still lingered. "Juyeon, come smell the pendant."

Your eyes widened. "Uhm—"

"Hold on, what?"

"Wait, Jacob."

The latter two responses came from Changmin and Kevin, respectively, the two startling at Jacob's request.

There was a swift exchange of glances between everyone else and the alpha wolves in the room.

Lily said, "Yn?"

"Why are we sniffing the pendant now?" You asked, finding your voice.

Jacob looked up innocently. "Sorry, I probably should have explained myself. I think it might smell like the scent Juyeon was trying to track."

Something in the room shifted. You glanced down at the pendant in your grip and the questions in your head accumulated and accumulated and accumulated. What in Hell did you get me into, Sena?

"Okay," you said, "you can… smell the pendant."

You weren't sure why he couldn't smell it from where he was, but he took a couple steps over to you and replaced Jacob's position. Changmin's hand appeared on the arm of your chair as he leaned forward slightly.

Juyeon took a cautionary sniff, and his eyes widened. "That's it. It's—it was slightly different, but similar enough where it has to be the same entity." He looked up at you. "Is this the only one of its kind?"

You met Changmin's eyes.

He looked away first. "No."

Your gaze became earnest in his direction, and if you could, you would burn twin holes in the side of his head like a snakebite. More shit he hadn't told you. Were you surprised?

No? What did he mean no?

"We need to talk," you forced out of gritted teeth, gripping onto the arm of his chair now.

He passed you a glance. Later.

"Well, we can only really assume that the person following you was most likely after the pendant," Jacob said plainly as he stood from the ground and dusted off his pants. "But now that we know the origin of the scent, per se, it'll make the hunt a little easier."

Sangyeon gave a bob of his head. "Kevin, you're leading the search party for the day."

Kevin's head perked up, hand on the back of your chair. "But—"

A single look from his leader made his mouth snap closed.

"Yes, sir," Kevin murmured with a shallow nod of acknowledgement. He gave the back of your chair a small pat, then departed without another word from the office. You thought you could feel his presence leave your side, from the room. All of this feeling… was this how the supernatural operated? Was this what a sixth sense entailed all along?

"Juyeon—" the man in question raised his head, "—go find where Haknyeon and Eric are." Sangyeon scratched his temple with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like exasperation. "Grab them and round up the pups."

Juyeon brightened. "Are we taking them down to the creak?"

Lily nodded her approval. "Ooh, nice idea. Yn and Changmin, you're both free to join us. It's lovely down there."

You forced your hand to fall away from the pendant, but not before tucking it back beneath the collar of your shirt. It felt too exposed out here, sitting on your sternum for all to see. You nodded though, trying for a small smile. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sangyeon patted the desktop. "Excellent! The two of you can continue to make yourselves at home."

Though this was a physical conclusion to the meeting, your stomach continued to sit uncomfortably. This conversation should not have been over so quickly… right? Was there not more to discuss? Perhaps not now then. Maybe it was better to take your time letting this all sink in.

"Ah, before the two of you go join the little ones," Jacob cut in. He shot Changmin a pointed look. "You owe me something."

Changmin roughed a hand through his bangs, but you could have sworn his lips curled up with a smile. "Aish… your memory."

"It never fails me when I need it."

You glanced between the two; Changmin did owe you yet another explanation, but if there was something these two planned to settle… "What? What is it this time?"

Jacob grinned, and you definitely hadn't been hallucinating when you saw flickers of gold in his irises. "He owes me a sparring match."

a/n: i am clasping my hands in prayer for a reblog, comment, or ask. take a moment to grab a snack, drink some water, and head over to the second part! thanks for reading

read part two here (if it's not linked yet, refresh and it'll be at the top)

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @kflixnet

#ahhgggg this is soooo gooodddd 😫#this is like my fav kind of genre 😂 I’m so weak for this #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #q x reader #changmin x reader

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

Text

get fucked

pairing: toji x fem!reader x sukuna word count: 4.1k synopsis: toji & sukuna fuck the living daylights out of you... themes/warnings: pwp, smut, MDNI, threesome, piv, degradation, praise, double penetration, oral, fingering...this is pretty explicit. they're both huge... i feel like they're both kind of ooc.

“Miss us?” Toji sneered as he stepped out in front of you, intersecting your path.

“Can’t say I did, Fushiguro,” you smiled sarcastically at him. The dark-haired male towered over you, lips turning down at the corners.

“That’s too bad,” his partner in crime, Sukuna, chuckled as he appeared behind you.

“What do you want?” you sighed.

These two had been bothering you for a couple of weeks now. They were your local, neighborhood delinquents who liked to frequent the restaurant that you worked at. You knew they were in some shady line of work, but had decided to just mind your own business. Aside from some crass flirting and lingering touches at work, they’d never done much to bother you. Today, though, following you on your way home was now escalating to a level that had you concerned.

“Can’t we just pay a visit to our favorite girl?” Toji’s lips curled up at the corners as he raked his eyes over you.

“Favorite girl my ass,” you rolled your eyes and laughed. “Come on,” you glanced at Sukuna, who had crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What’s with the reaction?” Sukuna cocked his head at you, hiding his surprise.

“At best, I’ll be the next target of your bullying,” you rolled your eyes at the pair of delinquents, “At worst, I’m your plaything of choice for the next month or so. I have interest in neither, so I suggest you consider someone else.”

It should be easy enough. Though their personalities were more or less garbage, they were good looking and well built.

“You’re a smart one,” Sukuna chuckled, advancing on you, “You must be able to guess, though, that part of your appeal is the fight,” he reasoned, sarcastic words curling around your ear. Toji approached from the other direction until you were sandwiched between their chests.

“Tell us, pretty girl,” Toji chuckled, chest vibrating against yours, “Tell us you know that.”

Your breaths were choppy as they both pressed against you, overwhelming you with their size.

“I-,” you panted, chest tightening as they jostled you, hoping to get a rise out of you.

You placed your hands against Toji’s chest and pushed, trying to put some distance between you. It did not work.

“Wha-?!” you blinked in surprise when Toji lifted you up so that your feet were off the ground and pressed back into you, suspending you mid air against Sukuna. They both snickered as you realized your predicament.

“Why me?” you tried to ask, but your voice caught and trailed into a small moan as Toji’s leg slotted itself between your thighs, pressing against your core.

“Hmm,” his eyebrows rose with delight at the sound.

“There it is,” Sukuna snickered as his lips brushed against your neck.

You shuddered as he nibbled his way up the curve of your neck. Your hands shot out and gripped Toji’s biceps when Sukuna nipped sharply at your earlobe. Toji and Sukuna’s eyes met and a dangerous spark passed between them before Sukuna’s hands closed around your waist. To your surprise, they both stepped away and Sukuna placed you back on the ground before they vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

“What the fuck?” you huffed, straightening yourself out.

…

You groaned and laid your forehead on the desk. You'd been working on holiday scheduling for the next three weeks and after cataloging all of the vacations everyone had submitted for, your brain was fried. You turned to pack up your things and head home and you’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice people had entered your room until you turned back to face the door.

“Look what we found, Toji,” Sukuna grinned down at you.

“Look what we found indeed,” Toji smiled, cocky.

“What do you want?” you asked, body tensing at the sight of them and the memory of last time.

“More like…who do we want,” Toji smiled. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes promised something dark.

“Again…why me?” you asked, putting up a brave front, but you could already feel yourself responding to their presence. Recollections of the way they had overpowered you so easily had graced your dreams, day and night, a few times already.

“Something about you,” Sukuna considered you for a moment, “I want to see it break.”

Your eyebrows raised and despite your rational mind, you clenched at his words.

“I or we?” you couldn’t help but tease, “You guys really can’t do anything yourselves, huh? Always a package deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed at you and you almost took a step back. His eyes were sharp and a strand of hair hung in front of them. You swallowed nervously…

“Have you been thinking about us, pretty girl?” Toji purred while Sukuna locked the room’s door. “You seem less difficult today.”

“Why would I be?” you asked politely, “Thinking about you, that is.”

“Because of the way you were panting, holding back your moans the last time we saw you,” Toji leaned down to whisper in your ear. His lips brushed against the shell and your mouth fell open with surprise. “Like a bitch in heat,” he laughed, condescending as hell.

“Oh fuck you!” you moved to strike him. Mistake.

“You’re right,” Toji chuckled as he caught your wrist in his large hand easily. “You’re more of a hellcat than a bitch, aren’t you?”

You tried to pull away, but in all ways you were at a disadvantage. Toji lifted his arm and yours went with it. He was tall enough that this stretched you out uncomfortably and you were balanced on the tips of your toes. Your other hand moved reflexively for balance and it planted itself squarely on Toji Fushiguro’s firm chest. Your hand fisted in his shirt as he jerked you around, playing with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he watched. Your mouth was agape and your eyes had grown slightly glossy at the way Toji disrespected you. He had to credit you…you’d managed to keep your sounds down, but everything else about your body language was so clear…you were turned on.

“Answer him, pretty,” Toji commanded and you looked up at him with begging eyes. “We all know the answer anyways, just want to hear you say it.”

You glared at him. You would never.

“So stubborn,” Toji’s voice was a low rumble against your fist, “Hope you know that I like that,” he grinned at you, backing you onto the desk.

“I wonder,” Sukuna cocked his head suddenly and placed a sharp nail against your neck. Dragged the pointed tip down to your collarbone and you shivered at the pain. “Still won’t admit it?” he goaded you, pressing and the tip bit deeper into your skin, just shy of breaking it.

“Pretty girl,” Toji gripped your chin and lifted it to meet his piercing eyes. “Answer us and we’ll give you what you need.”

As rough Toji liked to be, he wasn’t one to take without some indication of consent. Your eyes searched his and you must’ve seen or realized this because one of the coils in your stomach loosened with some sort of relief.

“...want,” you sighed, body sagging as you finally gave in.

“Oh you good girl, you,” Sukuna was at your back in a flash, hands running up your sides, grabbing and groping freely.

You moaned softly as Toji’s fingers traced along your inner thigh. You squirmed when they met your center and found it hot and wet.

“Dirty girl,” he snickered and rubbed, drawing a strangled cry from you.

“To-Toji,” you groaned, legs parting for him as Sukuna squeezed your tits harshly.

“Sukuna,” you panted when he squeezed your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You were overwhelmed.

“She is dripping,” Toji laughed, caressing you through your panties. “I knew you’d be perfect,” he remarked smugly.

“Please,” your hips shifted desperately towards him, needing him to take more.

“Please what?” Sukuna cooed in your ear.

“More!” was all you could manage as Toji pushed your panties aside and stroked his fingertips lazily through your folds. The wet sounds brought heat to your face as you whined for him.

“We can give more,” Toji held your gaze, serious for a moment. “But if it’s too much, how will you tell us?”

“Safe word?” you answered, finding it difficult to focus when he grazed your clit repeatedly.

“And what is your safe word, pretty girl?” Toji asked.

“Sp-split Soul,” you stuttered out when your nipples were tweaked gently. Toji’s eyes widened a splinter at your answer.

“Aren’t you making your favorite a bit too obvious?” Sukuna teased upon hearing the name of Toji’s cursed tool, though he didn’t mean much by it.

“Fascinating,” Toji looked you over from head to toe one more time before he slid two fingers inside of you, drawing a loud cry from your lips. His knuckles stroked against you and you clenched around him, panting.

“She’s crying,” Sukuna chuckled, watching your eyes go glassy as Toji finger fucked you deeply. Sukuna’s large hands cupped your breasts and his fingers tweaked your nipples every so often as he nibbled on your neck.

“Wait, I-!” your eyes shot open as an orgasm barreled through you. Your body tensed in their hands and Toji’s fingers continued to curl up into you until the knot uncoiled you threw your head back with a loud wail. Sukuna’s chest was there to support your sagging body as you watched Toji lick your arousal off of his fingers.

“My turn,” Sukuna announced, shifting to take Toji’s place between your legs. His hands stroked down your inner thighs and his nails dragged deliciously along the soft, delicate skin. He watched with sadistic pleasure as it left long, red lines behind.

Toji took a seat behind you and palmed himself through his pants as he watched Sukuna’s handiwork. He throbbed at the marks and he thought about leaving a few marks of his own. His eyes widened with interest when Sukuna turned his hand around and tapped the backs of his knuckles, littered with rings, against your clit.

All of your muscles tensed at the sensation of cold metal against your hot, swollen clit and you let out a sound that was halfway between a squeal and a moan. Sukuna chuckled cruelly and kept up an erratic pattern until your back was arching up off of the table.

“Ha, hah, hah!” your soft pants were all that could be heard as Sukuna edged you mercilessly. “Sukuna, please!” you finally cried when you felt on the brink of insanity. You were surprised at the feral noise that escaped you when he stepped back and away, leveling you with a cruel smirk.

“Desperate little thing,” he chuckled and the way he peered disdainfully down at you shot a jolt of electric energy through you.

“Toji?” you looked towards the other man in the room hopefully. Your pupils dilated when you realized he was thrusting his hips, cock rubbing through the fabric of his pants against his palm. “Toji…,” you moaned, your voice dreamy and almost slackjaw at the visual.

“You sure know how to get what you want, don’t you?” Sukuna laughed heartily, helping you upright.

“May I?” you approached Toji, dropping to your knees before him.

“Polite when you need to be,” Toji rolled his eyes at you and shared a laugh with Sukuna.

You grinned and busied yourself with unearthing his erection. It was thick and heavy and tipped just slightly forward unassisted. You sighed with delight when you saw it, which served as a real shot to Toji’s ego.

“What a good little slut,” Sukuna chuckled, taking a seat. Unlike Toji, he had no desire to exercise restraint and pulled himself out of his pants, stroking eagerly.

Toji hissed when you closed your mouth around him. So wet and warm. The visual of your lips pursed around his shaft as you sucked gently was almost dizzying to him and he found himself gritting his teeth, trying to stay level. You were so singularly focused on lapping at his cock that you jolted with surprise when Sukuna smacked your cheek suddenly.

“Spit,” he demanded, his palm outstretched before you. You blinked up at him in surprise for so long that he slapped you lightly again. “I said spit.”

When he was satisfied, he brought his hand back to his cock, using your saliva as lubrication. You were embarrassed that the realization only served to turn you on more. Toji cleared his throat, grabbing your attention again. You moved to put your mouth back on him and you were surprised when he stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit?” he gestured to his shining erection with an expectant look. He had to hold back a smile at the way your expression grew hungry and dazed at the same time. You peeled off your panties and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He offered you no help and instead leaned back and watched with lazy eyes as you positioned him at your opening.

“You’re too big,” your eyes flashed to him with mild annoyance. Your knees spread as you tried to lower yourself onto him with little success. Toji kept up his poker face as you clenched and gripped around his engorged tip. Finally after some desperate bucking of your hips, he popped into you, stretching you almost painfully around his girth. “Fuuck,” you whined, lips pursed as your eyes squeezed shut.

“My god she’s fucking tight,” Toji remarked to Sukuna through gritted teeth.

“Good thing you went first then, huh?” Sukuna taunted.

Toji’s lip twitched in response, but he didn’t say anything because you were doing your best to take more of him.

“Oh my god, Toji,” you mumbled mindlessly as you worked your way down, lips stretched taut around his shaft. At the very least, you were soaked and dripping, but his sheer size was still a challenge. You weren’t sure if Sukuna was just trying to get a rise out of Toji, but the possibility of him being even bigger made you feel faint.

“Are you struggling, kitty?” Toji teased, lips curled up into a smirk. “My cock too fat for our little whore?”

“You're big!” you gasped out, with a nod. “It doesn't, it barely fits,” you whined, but not because you wanted to stop. It was because you wanted Toji to drive up into you, punishing and hard.

Toji watched, proud at the way you struggled to split yourself open around you. You struggled and yet you persisted and he found himself admiring that.

“Shall I take over?” Toji cupped your chin and brushed his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly and he flexed his hips up into you and you moaned even louder than before. The way he pushed into you was simply divine. His rhythm was slow and deep as you grew accustomed to it.

“How is it, pretty girl?” Sukuna surprised you when he came up behind you. His hands closed around your hips and he pressed you further down on Toji’s cock, drawing hisses from both of you. “Does he feel good?”

“Asshole,” Toji spat at Sukuna when he pressed against your cervix and you clamped down around him.

You couldn’t even manage an answer as Toji’s cock was stuffed into you deeper than you thought possible. Sukuna was unrelenting and held you in place as Toji’s hips jerked reflexively up into you.

“Fuck!” Toji cursed, his orgasm incoming.

“Come on,” Sukuna taunted. “You’ve been wanting to fill her up for a while now, just do it.”

“Wha-?” you struggled to comprehend Sukuna’s words, but Toji’s cock jerked strongly inside of you and you squeezed back reflexively.

Toji inhaled a few ragged breaths as he came, unloading deep inside of you with Sukuna pinning you down.

“Look at you,” Sukuna snickered cruelly, hand cupping your chin and tilting your head to face him. “Filled with Fushiguro’s cum,” he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

You were surprised at the gesture.

“Do you let just anybody fuck you raw?” Sukuna taunted, leering at you. You narrowed your eyes at him, god he gave you whiplash.

“Do you just go around fucking anybody raw?” you bit back and Toji chuckled.

“Guess Fushiguro was too soft on you, cause this bitch ain't broken yet,” Sukuna barked out a laugh. “My turn,” his eyes glinted at you before he pulled you off of Toji’s lap.

Sukuna forced you to your knees and smacked the heavy head of his cock against your cheek. You glared up at him defiantly.

“Can’t wait to see those eyes water as you glare at me,” he sneered, hooking his thumb into your mouth and yanking it open. You let out a noise of surprise, but it was quickly muffled by his cock being shoved unceremoniously between your lips.

“God that’s a sinful little mouth,” Sukuna groaned when your lips closed around him, enveloping him in your wet warmth. “Shut this mouthy little slut right up,” he snickered as you sucked.

Toji settled in behind you and snaked his arms around you. One looped around your waist and the other reached between your thighs. Your lips squeezed around Sukuna’s head when Toji’s palm landed a slap squarely against your cunt, like a hammer against your clit. Sukuna’s hand shot out around the back of your neck and pulled you forward until he was lodged against the back of your throat. You moaned loudly as both men ground against you, your wet, drooly holes.

“Fuck that’s tight!” Sukuna hissed when you relaxed your throat and let him slip inside. Toji’s hand moved from your waist to cup your throat, feeling the way it bulged to accommodate Sukuna.

“Hah…I can feel him,” he whispered in your ear as his fingers dipped into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside.

You whimpered and clenched at his observation. Your whimper was muffled by Sukuna’s cock, but your clench was easily felt by Toji’s thick fingers. Toji’s lips curled up into a sadistic grin and the hand around your throat tightened and Sukuna’s knees almost buckled.

“Fucking shit!” he glared at Toji after pulling out, leaving you gasping for breath in his firm grip.

Toji’s chest rumbled with laughter, pleased to be able to get the best of Sukuna for a turn. Despite yourself, it pleased you to hear Toji laugh. Something about the both of them using you to toy with each other made you swell with pride.

“Keep playing, Fushiguro,” Sukuna spat venomously, pulling you up by a fistful of hair. He bent you forward over the table and flipped your skirt up, rubbing his cock along your dripping length. “Watch me fuck your cum out of her,” he snarked before sliding into you in one fluid motion.

“Ohh~!” you cried as you stretched around Sukuna. You weren’t sure if he was actually bigger or you were just sensitive, but the feeling had you clawing at the tabletop like a feral cat.

“How’s that feel, baby?” he grunted as he pounded into you harshly. Your hips clipped against the edge of the table painfully with each thrust and his balls slapped wetly against you.

“G-good,” you cried.

“Better than Fushiguro?” he goaded and Toji’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I-,” you hiccuped, “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, tears welling up in your eyes as an orgasm approached. “Su-kuna,” you cried, back arching.

“Answer me, pretty girl,” Sukuna asked again, pupils dilating with satisfaction as he worked a creamy ring of Toji’s cum and your arousal around the base of his shaft. “Who do you prefer?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Both!” you cried as your body tensed and you came, thinking of the different ways in which they both used and ravaged your body.

“Did I say you could come?” Sukuna gripped you by the chin and pulled you up against him. He tipped your head back so that you could meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you realized your error quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” your eyebrows pinched with worry at what fresh hell he would unleash on you for this.

He surprised you by trailing his wet tongue across your cheek before licking into your open mouth. You clenched as he nipped your lips and then sucked your tongue into his mouth. Toji had already claimed your pussy by filling it with his cum and you understood this as Sukuna’s way of claiming your mouth for his own. You squirmed when he pulled back slightly and held your mouth open for him. His teeth ran across his tongue before he spit into your mouth. You shivered as you accepted his saliva eagerly. It was intimate, filthy, and wanton all at the same time.

“Fushiguro,” Sukuna’s eyes flicked to Toji’s as he picked you up, holding your back against his chest with surprising ease. “Get over here.”

Toji’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand Sukuna’s meeting.

“She said she wants both,” Sukuna chuckled, “Let’s see if she can take both.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You were already tired and sore, but something about these two gave you something to prove. You knew Sukuna didn’t expect you to be able to, which triggered something defiant and stubborn inside of you and you knew you wouldn’t back down.

“I can,” you insisted as Sukuna set you down on the small couch that was tucked against the wall of the room. He laughed at your show of confidence. You’d have to see.

“You gonna let me fuck that pretty ass, baby?” Toji’s voice was raspy from behind. “You so cock hungry that you need both of those holes filled?”

Perversion curled through you and your eyes flashed when you look at him and nodded. Toji was taken aback for a moment. It was true he’d had his eye on you for some time, but he had sorely underestimated you. He shifted behind you while you straddled Sukuna and his cock was screaming to be inside of you. You had dripped so much that he easily coated himself in your fluids. His eyes were transfixed as he pressed the dark head of his cock against your puckered sphincter. You let out a series of warm pants as Sukuna gripped your hips tightly.

“Wait,” you placed your hand on Toji’s abdomen, “Give me a sec?” you breathed hard as you tried to relax. You’d had difficulty accommodating Toji in your pussy, so anal was going to be an even bigger challenge, but you were determined.

“Take your time, pretty,” Toji pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He held still as you pressed your hips back against him, stretching a little more each time around him. Watching the way you stretched yourself around him, from hesitant to eager, was dizzying to Toji in a way that he had not expected.

Sukuna reached up to stroke your face affectionately as you adjusted. He cooed praise up at you, telling you how good you were being for them, how sexy you looked taking both their cocks. Behind you, Toji egged you on with words of his own. How good your pretty hole looked stretched around him, how much more he had left to give you.

Your breaths were ragged as you pushed back, dragging him deeper and deeper into you.

“Almost there,” he encouraged, “To the hilt, baby, show me,” he watched proudly until you had taken him completely.

“Fuck,” you let out a sigh, eyes flickering between the two men. It surprised you to see satisfied smiles on both of their faces. This was short lived because before long, they both thrusting up into you alternately and all coherent thought left your mind.

The room was filled with grunts, pants, and the wet sounds of sex as they both pistoned their cocks into you. You were so full and so sore, but it was the most delicious pain that you had ever experienced.

“Close,” you murmured when you felt the coil in your belly constructing. “May I?” you asked.

“What a fast learner,” Sukuna clicked his tongue, pressing a kiss against your neck. “You’re doing so well…whenever you wish,” he nodded and Toji couldn’t agree more.

They fucked you and kept fucking you through two more orgasms. You briefly wondered if you might pass out, but their climax came mercifully and with heavy twitches and muttered curses, they emptied themselves into you. Their muscles unwound and relaxed post orgasm and you found yourself sandwiched pleasantly between their large bodies. You knew they were both notorious for sleeping around, but you wondered if they’d be up for a repeat. You needed more experience before you could declare a favorite, after all.

#and get fucked we did 🥴#I know I said id keep the authorities off your back but it’s jail for you I fear #but also for me too bc I would need to be in cell to keep me away from these 2 #toji smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #toji fushiguro smut #ryomen sukuna smut

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

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hey gege fuck you my dude

#more pain #jjk leaks #jjk manga spoilers #this is not funny get out #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gege why

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

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NO SERIOUSLY FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

#pain #jjk manga leaks #geto suguru

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

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just the tip geto PLEASEEEEEEE

#pls 🧎🏻‍♀️#geto suguru

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

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satoru spends decades loving you so much it makes you miserable.

↺ f!reader. ↺ no curses au. ↺ angst. semi-fluff. smut. childhood enemies/friends to lovers to exes. ↺ 18+ brief smut. infidelity. satoru is a jerk who ruins everything. ↺ 4.8k.

certain things remain constant, never really changing at the core of their essence. they may shift, adopt new forms, or adapt to different circumstances, but their fundamental nature typically remains constant. and this is precisely how you would describe your connection with satoru.

seven.

you hate when your mom goes out of town. your dad never knows how to pack you a proper lunch. it’s never anything made with his own hands, and always a series of snacks stuffed into a cardboard box, called a lunch. being in second grade is hard.

from the never-ending class activities to the unappetizing lunch options, everything seems to be a constant struggle. but what makes it even harder is gojo satoru, who never fails to get on your last nerves. it seems like you can’t escape him, not even at home. monday through sunday. you never get a break from him. if he’s not pestering you in class, then he’s knocking at your front door to bother you at home. and your mom always lets him in to play. you can’t ever understand why. you keep telling her playing with him isn’t any fun. he only likes video games and making a collection of random noises. he’s not exactly your idea of fun. on top of it all, he comes around just to be mean to you. he comes around just to make fun of your interests. today is no different. as you sit at the lunch table with your meager cardboard box, here he is, plopping himself across from you with his lunchbox. inwardly, you sigh. being in second grade is so hard. you can’t even just get up and leave. you can’t drive. you don’t have your bicycle with you. not to mention, you don’t know your way home at all yet. satoru smiles pleasantly at you. “hey, pea.” “…hi,” you reply suspiciously, wondering when the ‘brain’ would fall. he’s never blatantly nice to you. satoru makes a show of unpacking his lunch, which was obviously made with love by his mother. mrs. gojo is the sweetest. you aren’t sure how she ended up with such a demon for a son. the scent wafts from his food and makes your mouth water, bringing back now-somber memories of the days when your lunch was fresh and not boxed. you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as he comments on your snacks.

there’s nothing wrong with them for other children who prefer them, but they’re not for me.

“did your dad make your lunch again?” he asks, looking at the snacks you have spread out before you with his nose crinkled in disgust. “i think your dad doesn’t love you, pea brain. he doesn’t even want you to eat well.” groaning, your tiny fist hits the table. “can you shut up and go away?” “i’m just saying. he didn’t even pack you a juice box. all you have that’s good is pudding.” he notes. “ah, i’d hate to go home to parents who don’t love me. sorry, pea brain.” you pout, your lower lip jutting out pathetically. he’s right. at this point, all you can make of your dad’s lack of loving lunches is a lack of love. you look at him, tears gathering while his eyes widen, and lash out in pure frustration, face feeling hot. “you’re such a jerk. i hate you.” dramatically, you lay your head down on the table and sob because he’s right. your parents can’t possibly love you when they make you eat like this. “don’t cry, y/n.” he says sadly. “i was just joking.” “leave me alone.” your voice is muffled by your face being pressed and buried in your arms against the table. you hear a heavy sigh and then silence. you can feel the air get less annoying. he must have taken the hint and left you. so, you lift your head, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. right before you was a juice box and a little dish of pork belly he left behind just for you. and for some reason, the person you hate the most offering you this out of kindness makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

ten.

you’ve never been in trouble before today. and of course, it’s today of all days, your own birthday. your school record thus far is squeaky clean. fifth grade is supposed to be easy, a prevalent marker of your growing maturity. here you are trying to convince your parents that it’s time for you to earn an allowance, but now? all your efforts are in vain. the unfortunate incident shatters the strength of your argument, leaving it in pieces. sitting uncomfortably in a plush chair within the cramped confines of the school director’s office, you can’t help but realize the gravity of the situation. you, who have always walked the straight and narrow path, are now branded as a criminal. and what is the cause of this sudden fall from grace? none other than gojo-freaking-satoru, the very embodiment of your misery, the source of your endless frustration. god, he ruins everything. he constantly pesters you with not a single concern for your comfort or peace. no one does anything about the way he pokes and prods at you despite your repeated complaints. when you tell an authority figure, you keep receiving these smiles from all of them as if there’s some inherent fondness you’re somehow missing.

“he bothers you because he likes you.” the instructors always say. “he just wants your attention. he just wants to play with you.”

it doesn’t seem or feel like satoru cares about you at all. in fact, satoru’s behavior appears to be motivated solely by his desire to get a rise out of you. and yes, of course, you try to ignore him, but the strength of his obnoxiousness surpasses any and all capacity you contain for enduring his extended presence. it’s precisely this breaking point that leads you to the school director’s office today.

you yearn for him to leave you alone. you need him to leave you alone, but he won’t, and no one will make him because while you find his behavior to be frustrating and tiresome, the others seem to all find his lack of ability to respect a single one of your boundaries endearing.

as if.

driven to the brink of your sanity, you finally snap. you can no longer endure his constant intrusion on your personal time and invasion of your personal space; so you punched him in the nose and called him an awful bastard. now he sits across from you in the office with a smirk on his face and a napkin stuffed up his nostrils to stem the bleeding. the glint of amusement in his eyes causes you to snarl and glare at him, fueling your anger even more. “god, you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” you spit, words dripping with disdain. his smirk becomes a thin, straight line. “shut up, pea brain.” “am i the pea brain?” you ask with a twinge of confusion in your voice as you fire back. “didn’t you get a measly 54% on our last english test? i got 92 so i don’t think it’s my brain that’s below average in size, mongrel.” satoru snorts. “yeah of course you did. all you do is study because you don’t have any friends. i wouldn’t brag about that.” your eyes narrow, your teeth grit and your fingers clench. “you look pathetic right now, getting beat up by a girl.” “hah!” he bursts sardonically. “i’d respond, but you don’t even look like a girl. you look more like a deformed troll. i’m so sorry, y/n. i just know that’s why suguru geto won’t give you the time of day. you’re just plain ugly.” that stops you. the words hang in the air, causing your chest to tighten, your breaths coming in rapid succession. just yesterday, you had mustered the courage to confess to geto that you thought he was cute. he rejected you sweetly but he still went off and told all of his friends about it like a jerk, and one of his friends just so happens to be the gargoyle sitting across from you with a smug expression etched across his face. but it’s not funny to you anymore. he’s just mean. he’s a bastard. a heartless jerk. he’s the worst person alive. your gaze drifts away, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. “you’re such a stupid jerk,” you manage to choke out, your voice laced with anger and hurt. “i’d rather be a jerk than an ugly troll no one wants.” his words hit you like a sharp blow, a sucker punch to the gut.

that’s it! i’ve had it. i’ve had it. i’ve had it!

approximately five minutes pass before a teacher finally hears satoru screaming for his life in pain only to find that you had dragged him to the floor, climbed on top of him, and are now relentlessly punching him in a wrathful frenzy. “you’re such a jerk!” you scream, your voice hoarse with fury and enraged fists landing wherever an opening was seen. “i hate you! i hate you i hate you i hate you!” satoru seethes underneath you, unable to remove himself from you, trying his best to shield his nose from being hit for going on the fourth time today. “i hate you more! stupid freak!”

some birthday.

seventeen.

you hate the smell of cigarettes.

the pungency fills the air, making your nose scrunch up in disgust. you hate the way nicotine clings onto everything — fingertips, fabrics, and breaths. but most of all, you hate the way it always lingers on him, makes a home out of his skin. it’s as if the scent was a permanent part of him, clinging harder than you do. god, even at seventeen, you still can’t stand gojo satoru. he’s recklessness embodied and he’s an absolute gargoyle of a boy; yet, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to everything about him, much to your own dismay. your stomach churns as you plop down near him on his bed, your legs finding their way onto his lap. “it stinks,” you spit, wrinkling your nose at the offensive odor. “you stink.” he looks at you with an uncaring expression, a question in his eyes. “then leave, pea brain,” he taunts. “nobody invited you. you just tagged along.” you can feel his hands resting over your legs, keeping you there despite his words. rolling your eyes, you know he’s playing a game, acting like he won’t cup your face in his hands and press his lips against yours as soon as his friends leave. "if i leave now, i won’t be back. i have practice,” you warn him, your voice carrying a tone of caution. “ball’s in your court.” as his head turns to look at you, you can’t help but notice the plea in those pretty, cerulean doe eyes, begging you to stay just a little longer.

“hold on, pea. don’t leave. i haven’t gotten to kiss you yet.”

it makes you sick. sick. sick. sick. you let out a small hum, your eyes flickering up to meet his. “that’s what i thought. talk to me nicely.” “never in your wildest dreams, pea brain.” he grumbles. “being awful to you is my brand, baby.” his use of the term “pea brain” still irritates you, but you can’t help the way your heart flutters when he occasionally calls you “baby” despite its lack of sincerity. you hate how you always give in to his crooked smile and his supple lips that seems to always beg for your attention. just as you’re settling into a comfortable silence, his friend’s excited voice breaks through. “gojo, shit. gojo! you’ll never fucking guess who’s at the skate park right now.” his brows furrow together. “uh, who?” “shoko ieiri. you know. absolute smoke show? the girl you’ve been trying to get at for like 6 months? geto said she’s there asking about you, man!” your heart sinks as you hear him mention the name of a girl that satoru has been trying to pursue for months. you hate the way your chest tightens and aches, knowing that he’s ashamed to be open about his feelings for you. you hate that he sees other girls but still wants to kiss you, and you hate that you let him. you don’t even bother looking at him as he glances at you nervously, pretending like you didn’t hear. as they continue to talk about it, the hurt only grows. you watch as satoru blatantly decides to go with his friends to talk to her, and you can’t believe he has the audacity to ask if you want to come along. you sneer at him, removing your legs from his lap and standing up. “fuck off, satoru.” you snap, your tone laced with anger and hurt. "so i take it we’re done here?” he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he nods. “you’re such a fucking jerk.” you spit. “i fucking hate you.” with that, you storm out without another word. his friends are left dangerously confused, unaware that you and satoru have any kind of history. to everyone else, you’re just the annoying neighbor that he’s been putting up with since childhood. you can��t help but think back to when he was seven and too ashamed to be your friend genuinely, always mean to you at school but knocking on your door after. now, at seventeen, he’s too ashamed to ask you to be his girlfriend genuinely. he treats you like the rest of them. he says it’s different with you, but you now know most certainly that’s not the case at all. the tears start to fall once you’re home and you crawl into your bed, your head tucked into your arms. satoru leaves you crying once again, just like he always does. and then your phone buzzes.

satoru:

you know it’s nothing pea.

satoru:

you know i love you.

and for some reason, the person you hate the most finally confessing his love to you over a text message because he wouldn’t dare say it aloud makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

twenty.

he didn’t officially ask for your night but he decidedly takes it for himself in the form of little kisses down your spine, loving touches, and a possessive grip of your hips. that’s him staking a claim on you. he can’t let you leave. it’s close to midnight and he wants to be first. he wants to come before any of the others. satoru wants to have his mouth hovering over yours and breathe his “happy birthday” right between your lips. you keep talking about going out and meeting up with your friends at a club. he obviously can’t go with you but he saw what you were planning on wearing and he sure as fuck isn’t letting any other man but himself see you in that. the thought of another person’s fingertips dancing up your thighs like his are right now sickens him. no, he didn’t ask for your night but you had to know as soon as you entered his apartment, your night became his. you had to know you’d be straddling his lap and rolling your hips over his. you had to know you’d be singing his name. any and all plans you had are pointless little ideas he won’t let you out of his grip long enough to follow through with. you both know you’d rather stay here and lick the quiet devotion off the surface of his lips. it’s all for you anyway. “you’re…not slick.” you moan in his ear, a hint of amusement laced with desire. “i know what you’re doing.” he hums in response, shamelessly unapologetic as his teeth graze against your neck, his nails leaving delicious imprints on your skin, and his hands guiding your movements up and down his length. he doesn’t care. you know it. he knows it. he knows you know what he’s doing. it’s not a deterrence. it’s not like you’re exactly fighting to waltz out the door. “so? you’re still here, aren’t you?” he breathes, a satisfied groan following. “fuck, just like that, baby.” you thread your fingers through the locks of his pristinely white hair, tugging on the tresses and pulling his head back to meet his eyes, his masochistic little moans falling from his mouth without warning. there’s a knot building in his stomach when you’re forcing him to look in your eyes while your hips swirl on him. he’s so fucking in love with you and the thought alone is about to send him spiralling into every ounce of pleasure you’ve been gathering up in him. “you talk way too much.” you retort. “you have fantastic dick, but you talk too fucking much.” it takes everything he has to remain quiet. his entire being is focused on this moment, feeling the way every single cell in his body flickers to life under your touch, in the arms of your mercy. the muscles in his groin tighten as he grasps your ass and tries to shove himself deeper into you. you purr in his ear, stuck in the center of your bliss, and slowly speed up your movements, raising yourself up slightly and lowering down again, making sure to sink as far onto him as you possibly can. he gasps for breath and thrusts his hips upward into you. he teeters closer and closer to the edge, his face flushed and a thin line of sweat building on his forehead; he clings to the anticipation of his descent. he’s so close to the precipice of pleasure that he can’t bear the thought of you stopping. desperation lacing his voice, he pleads. “shut me up, baby. please shut me up.” you always do. you have been for years.

it’s been your dynamic for all this time, the back-and-forth banter where you invariably have the last word. it’s a dance you both know well.

you always get the last word, don’t you?

tonight, he gets what he wants — he’s the first ‘happy birthday’ to fall on your ears, a dulcet little hymn of honeyed sighs and tender murmurs. when it’s over, the echoes of your intimate encounter linger right above you, and he lies there with your head resting on his chest — the same chest that currently erupts with warmth. his mind drifts back to the memory of your sixteenth birthday when he finally invited you into the secret haven of the tree house he and his dad built years ago. you’d been asking to come up and see the inside since he finished it at thirteen. he always said no, but that was a special day for both of you, so he asked if you wanted to hang out up there with him. he was shocked when you so easily agreed. it helped because he wanted to tell you he liked you, but instead, he just ended up kissing you for the first time. and thus, this intricate game of cat and mouse ensued with satoru playing for keeps but never playing fairly. “i’m still going out.” you declare as you both lay there. “i know you’re trying to keep me here, ‘toru, but it’s not going to work this time.” he exhales sharply, his frustration evident. “why? why won’t you just hang out here with me like you always do?” “because i want to go out, get drunk with my friends, and dance with someone who doesn’t mind being seen with me,” you retort, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “i’m sure you can understand.” his jaw ticks. now you’re just going out of your way to provoke and upset him. you came over, got what you wanted from him, and now you’re so blatantly going off to frolic around looking for another guy because you want some attention outside? he must mean absolutely nothing to you, and he feels utterly insignificant. he knows what you guys have is unorthodox, but he at least attempts to keep the other girls he’s involved with from intruding into your world. “why the fuck would i want to be with you when you look at me and say you need more attention right after i’ve spent the entire night catering to your every fucking whim?“ he explodes in anger. "but it doesn’t matter. if you’re so desperate to ride another guy’s dick, then go ahead, but get out of my face about us being public.” you look taken aback, a mixture of shock and speechlessness overtaking you.

“satoru, i didn’t say anything about fucking anyone. i said i want to dance. people go out to do that, you know? except you and me. but i still want to do it and i won’t let you hold me back just because you’ve got some warped shame about us being together and other people knowing about it. i’ve told you countless times, and you still don’t fucking get it,” you continue, frustration evident in your voice. “i won’t wait for you. i care deeply for you, but i’m no longer putting my life on hold to entertain your uncertainty. i turned twenty, just now, and i’m done wasting my time. whenever you’re ready, truly ready, you know where to find me. but don’t be surprised if you take too long and someone else fills the spot by the time you make up your mind.” he hates that you say it because he knows it’s the truth. and he knows he would be devastated if you were to replace him, but he can’t. he can’t give you what you want, not right now. this realization fills him with a fit of seething anger, but his frustration always seems to be channelled outward, directed at you, his eyes fixated on your vulnerable form. “who the fuck would want to be with you and fill any empty slot in your life?” he retorts, his voice intentionally laced with venom. “there’s a reason you always come crawling back. so fuck off. hit me up when you’re ready.” his anger blazes, but in the depths of his belligerence, he acknowledges that it’s not really you.

he can never be mad at you, not truly. he loves you too much. “satoru, you gargoyle, i’ve had enough of you. you’re such a fucking jerk. all you ever do is lash out like a petulant child when you don’t get your way and you know what? i hate you. i really fucking hate you. i’m sick of you. you’re right. i will call you when i’m ready and don’t be fucking surprised if it’s not for a while, if ever.” inwardly he wants to say, “no, pea. please don’t leave. i love you. i just want you to stay. all of this is because i just want you to stay with me.”

but instead, he spits, “fuck you. i hate you, too.” you snort. “some fucking birthday. bye, satoru.” and with that, you turn away, leaving him there, grappling with his conflicting emotions and the sting of his own words.

twenty-seven.

“pea, stop.” he begs. “please let me explain.” here you go again. you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. you should have known better than to let him back into your life. it’s a pattern that’s been repeating itself for the past twenty years. he’s always been drowning in shame and hiding your relationship, keeping it confined to quiet hotel rooms far away from prying eyes. it’s the same old story, except this time, you’ve found out that he’s not only been hiding your relationship but he’s also gotten married sometime in the last five years. and for the last three months, you’ve been [ unknowingly ] helping him cheat on his wife. you ran into him by pure chance. it was a one-in-a-million stroke of luck that you landed in the same aisle at the same grocery store at the same time. he had said it was meant to be. because that’s what you promised when you let him go five years prior at twenty-two.

“at this point, there’s no way in hell i believe we’re meant to be. it would have to be some once-in-a-lifetime chance that even after cutting all fucking ties, we somehow end up back in front of each other. if that happens, then i promise you, i’ll fucking believe it. until then, get the fuck out of my life, satoru. i’m tired of you and all the shit you continuously put me through.”

well, it happened. you ended up back in front of each other. you kept your word. you believed it. you believed him. and now, here you are, caught in the same old cycle of hurt and betrayal. you can’t help but wonder if some things truly never change, no matter how hard you try. “are you married or not?” you ask harshly through your tears. you know the answer; you just want to know how much of a coward he truly is. “pea…baby…fuck.” he says, tears sliding down his cheeks. “it should have been you. i am married, but…it should have been you. i wasted a lot of fucking time. i don’t want to anymore. i didn’t tell you because the second i saw you again, i had full intention to leave her. pea, you have to believe me.”

that’s the problem.

you do believe him, and it makes it all worse. he’s talking to you like you should be grateful that he was willing to break an innocent woman’s spirit with no remorse for you, as if you should still harbor the capacity to trust him in spite of it all. your fists are pounding against his chest. your purse is swinging to relentlessly harm him, to give him all twenty years of the pain he’s caused you back. “you’re such a fucking jerk! god, i fucking hate you so fucking much! he sinks to his knees, sobbing, hugging your legs. “i love you. i’ve always loved you. even when i was terrorizing you in second fucking grade and every day on. baby, i love you.” it’s everything you’ve always wanted to hear from him. he just waited until you couldn’t love him openly anymore. a man who will betray his wife will betray anyone. not recklessness embodied, but selfishness. greed. and for some reason, the person you hate the most finally having the gall to love you openly but only after he knows he can’t anymore makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

thirty.

three years. three long, agonizing years have passed since his world crumbled beneath his feet, the moment he lost you for good. he hasn’t spoken to you in a long time, in an eternity it feels like. you changed your number shortly after the night you discovered the truth — he was married and had been for two years, deceiving both you and his ex-wife with the other for three months. he deserves the life he’s living, cheap thrills and fleeting flings. he’ll never fall in love again. seated alone at the bar, his sanctuary away from work, his gaze fixated on the digital clock mounted on the wall, he clutches a miniature glass of top-shelf whiskey, the very brand that used to bring a smile to your face. he downs a swift shot, the fiery liquid scorching his throat, the burning sensation in his eyes mirroring the impending tears. satoru watches as 11:59 seamlessly transitions into midnight. “happy birthday, pea.” he mumbles to himself. a single tear escapes, a testament to his internal turmoil. he makes no attempt to brush it away. he misses you so fucking much. the depth of his longing resides right there in the cavern of his chest. every day of his existence, he yearns for you, his heartache a constant companion. he had you within his grasp, but he held onto you so dishonestly; it’s no wonder that you slipped through his fingers. he’s such a jerk. he’s well aware of his despicable nature—a jerk, just as you always claimed. he knows how much you despise him, a truth reinforced by your absence every single day, a constant reminder of his failures. he recalls vividly the last time he let you down on one of your birthdays, your twentieth to be exact, and the anguish that enveloped him as he witnessed the pain etched in your eyes before you silently slipped out of his apartment. “some fucking birthday,” he mutters, the words an echo of his remorse and regret.

#pain 🥹#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut

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messiahb0lical · 1 year ago

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this is for me even if it’s not 😂😂

sneaky link!toji x fem!reader tw: smut, degradation, size kink, angst. wc: 330-ish

toji cast a sidelong glance at you. he really wasn’t sure how he ended up in this predicament with you. i mean, look at you.

you smiled, bright and genuine, as some guy teased you about something or the other. your eyes were practically shining at the motherfucker.

toji’s upper lip twitched. tch.

exactly how it came to be that toji got to have you on his cock every few nights or so…he really wondered if this was your cursed technique.

you’d made it very clear that no one was to know, but it was even clearer to him that you loved being split open and railed by his sizable cock. you loved when he toyed with your clit lazily until you were overstimulated and shuddering. you loved when you laid back on the bed and toji fucked himself deep into your throat. you loved when he hauled his massive body over yours and pinned you down, rutting himself deep into your inevitably creamy cunt.

“t-t-...toji,” you’d pant in his ear as your nails raked scratches down his wide back. you’d whimper and whine like the best, prettiest little cumdump he’d ever had.

“too big,” you’d clench around him when he first slid into you, but your coy eyes gave you away. you wanted toji to make it fit…and he always did.

he rolled his eyes when yours creased into semicircles…the sweetest eye smile. little did they know that behind that facade was one the most depraved little sluts that toji had ever had the privilege of sheathing himself in.

for a moment he considered throwing you over his shoulder and bringing you home. he shook his head. that wouldn’t do. it was only ever on your terms anyways.

“well,” he said to no one in particular and stood from his seat. he stretched ostentatiously for you before taking his leave. he wasn’t going to sit around and watch you flirt with some asshole, especially when he couldn’t even do anything about it.

#Toji my trashcan daddy 😩😩#do not forgive me for I have sinned I love this man 🥴#me when #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #toji blurb #toji drabbles

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messiahb0lical · 2 years ago

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Pokémon x Munch Exhibition

Pokémon Center Official Postcard Set [via]

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messiahb0lical · 2 years ago

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I Am What I Am (I)

Monsta X Mafiaverse Season 1

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC

Word Count - 5.7K

Warnings - Mentions of guns, kidnapping, possible violence, a make out scene or two?

Taglist - @synnocence @letsplayitcool

The smell of gasoline was undeniably lingering in the air. The mud under her shoes was thick and wet, consistent with the sound of the rain echoing in the silence. The rope on her wrists was starting to burn into her skin but the heat of the car disappeared behind her as she got dragged into the darkness. It sounded like she was accompanied by 3 sets of footsteps. Or was it four? She couldn’t tell. A sudden jerking motion threw her against what felt like a chair, her back hitting the wood, eliciting an involuntary groan.

She had seen and heard enough about Seoul to tell she was going to die today – she just didn’t know how or why though. All she wanted was a bottle of juice. Though pouring rains had taken over the city, she was feeling unusually dehydrated. A simple detour to the grocery store after work somehow resulted in her being blindfolded and shoved into a van. Should’ve just gone straight home.

Throughout the ride, to her own surprise, she sat unusually still. It was a fight or flight situation; her survival instincts should have kicked in, she should’ve done something but she simply froze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything to save herself. She was never really scared of the unknown or the darkness but today? The black is somehow stifling. Having the blindfold finally taken off didn’t help much either; darkness was going to be a constant very soon anyways.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the very dim, barely visible surroundings of what seemed like an old abandoned warehouse, streams of light and rain making their way from scattered holes in the roof. Textbook kidnapping location, what a dramatic way to go indeed. There were people all around her, definitely more than four, about twenty maybe? but they all stood half hidden in the shadows, visible only waist down, light particularly shining off those combat boots they all had in common.

Her cold sweat was replaced by the cold metal of a gun pressed against her cheek, turning her head towards its wielder. His frame blocked nearly her entire visual field – he was tall and broad, looming over her, his golden tresses falling into his cold eyes. Thank god his vest didn’t have sleeves because his biceps looked like they would have ripped right through the fabric. He could definitely knock her out in a second, so she told herself to be very careful about how and when she opened her mouth before him.

But that warning to herself barely sustained for a minute because he proceeded to ask her the stupidest possible question.

“Where is Baek Na Bi?”

She blinked at him rapidly, stumped, completely forgetting just how many guns might be around her. Of all the ways one could die, hers was surely going to be the most deservedly pointless one.

“Are you dumb?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m right in front of you," He frowned, prompting her to further clarify. "I am Baek Na Bi.”

An uncomfortable series of whispers went around like something was not right. Wait...Did they just pick her up without even knowing who she was? The man before her turned and looked right into the darkness across like there was someone in there.

Na Bi watched as a woman walked up with her bag, emptying its contents onto the floor carelessly, eyes skimming over her discarded things before she reached for her wallet and scoured through it. She then tossed her ID card at the blonde man and he held it against the light, his features molding into confusion. He then fished out a photo from his own pocket, holding it up before her.

“Then who is this?”

Na Bi squinted at what seemed like a picture captured from a security cam of a woman maybe in her mid-twenties, face half hidden under her cap but still revealing her brown eyes that matched her brown hair…... Ana.

“She knows her.”

A deep voice came from the darkness sending a chill down her spine. Na Bi thought she did an excellent job of concealing her shock on seeing Ana. She was only betrayed by the very slight widening of her eyes, a momentary slip he caught from all the way across the space. Denial was going to be futile.

“Why are you looking for her?”

The blonde man narrowed his eyes at her. “We ask the questions here.”

“Wonho.”

That was a warning that immediately made him back off. So the man in the shadows, he was the leader of this pack.

“She was going around looking for me first.”

What was Ana thinking, looking for a man like him?

“Why would she look for you?”

“That is my question as well Ms. Baek. Because the kind of man I am, no one comes looking for me.” The click of the lighter resounds in the silence, the tiny flame briefly illuminating what looked like a black shirt. “I’m the one who goes on the hunt.”

Oh Ana, what have you done?

“Not such a great hunter are you?” If Na Bi was going to die tonight anyways, what was the point of controlling her tongue? “Clearly, you’ve picked the wrong prey tonight.”

Wonho’s cold eyes somehow turned colder.

“Have I?” He sounds amused by her accusation. There’s that lighter sound again. “Then why don't you let me know where I can find the right one?"

"Do you not pay all these men enough for that?" The way Wonho was looking at her, if he was the leader, he would have put multiple bullets through her by now. But the man in the shadows did the exact opposite.

"Wonho, let her go.”

Na bi held her breath as the blonde man took a hesitating but obedient step towards her pulling out a small knife from behind him, cutting her hands free from the ropes binding her hands. She rubbed her wrists ignoring the sharp pain in her shoulders.

“You’re… you’re letting me go?”

Though she had accurately predicted the lighter click to follow, she did not expect to hear a smile in his voice. “You’ll come back to me.”

To this hell hole? “Why would I do that?”

“When your friend is missing long enough, you’ll want to talk.”

Ana was missing?

“In the meantime, I suggest you refrain looking for her on your own or contacting her in any way possible. Considering how she’s been efficiently evading us, the situation is a lot more…. out of hand than it looks.” Another click. “And please, don’t even think about going to the cops. I would like to believe you are smarter than that Ms. Baek.”

Wonho motioned her to get up with his gun, ignoring her attempt to gather her discarded things. As she was led out, she could hear the footsteps receding into the darkness and as much as she was relieved to be walking out of here alive, when the blindfold made its way back over her eyes, a part of her was disappointed to not being able to put a face to the voice that was ringing in her ears.

You’ll come back to me.

“I won’t.” She muttered as she was shoved back into the van.

Na Bi looked at herself in the mirror as she stepped out of the shower. She was a mess.

As if her job as an ER resident did not contribute enough to her ever so permanent dark circles, last night’s events further threw her into a sleepless night.

She pushed her bangs up and ran her fingers over the bruise on her forehead. She did put up quite a struggle when she was being forced into the van but in vain. She was no match for those clearly trained hands that were tying her up - The scars on her wrists were still burning.

She looked carefully at the face in the mirror, her brown eyes reminding her of Ana. Na bi was often told that the two of them looked similar but she never saw how. Sure they had the same brown eyes and wavy brown hair but other than that, they were nothing alike. Ana looked angelic. She had such kind, warm eyes, a beautiful smile, she was the kind that stood out in a crowd, making heads turn as she walked by. Na Bi on the other hand was as ordinary as could be. Not so pale skin, tired eyes, tired posture, average height, average looks. Nothing about her was really noticeable…..except maybe her lips. She was told more than often that she had very irresistible lips but it was usually in very drunk and desperate settings so she never really took it seriously.

She let her fringes carefully cover the bruise on her head; she didn’t want to answer any questions at work. What would she even say anyway? Seoul was infamous for its kidnapping stories, but unlike her, not many lived to tell the tale. Either she won’t be believed or she would be fearfully ignored and she didn’t like the idea of either. She didn’t want to think about last night anymore.

But she hurriedly packed her bag and simultaneously chomped on yesterday’s cold kimbap, she could not stop one particular thought plaguing her. Why did they let her go?

“You’ll come back to me.”

“I won’t.” She muttered again to no one and stepped out of her house into the darkness before dawn.

Two hours later, somehow, Na Bi found herself standing in front of Ana’s door.

No matter how much she thought, she was no able to make sense of why she was let go alive. She had seen their hide out; she had seen their faces. Maybe not the man in the shadows but she had seen enough. She was exactly the kind of loose ends that people like them made sure to clean up. They could have done away with her and ended this.

Were they being merciful because they picked the wrong person? Na Bi highly doubted people like them were capable of such logic.

You’ll come back to me.

His words kept ringing in her ears. There was a certain confidence in them that struck her. If Ana was truly missing, why did he think Na Bi would approach him and not the cops? Why did he not worry that going to the cops was the first thing she would do? Unless he was in fact trying to help Ana in some way? Some way not even the cops could help. What kind of mess could Ana have possibly gotten into that she needed this kind of a man to rescue her?

The only one who could answer that question was Ana herself. If Na bi was to make any sense of the situation she would need to talk to Ana as soon as possible but no matter how many times she called her, she wouldn’t pick up. When she finally made it to work, Na bi made sure the first thing she did was to look up her hospital records to see Ana's alternative forms of contact but to her surprise, there were none - no emergency contact, no family members mentioned, no workplace hotline, but there was an address. She quickly scribbled it on a post it note, grabbed her things and left her station, ignoring her supervisor furiously calling out to her from behind.

After a 20-minute bus ride, a short walk and a ride up the elevator, she was finally standing in front of the door number on her paper, hoping to god yesterday was a crazy fever dream and Ana was inside. But what Na Bi knew deep down was true – ringing the doorbell did not receive any response; Ana was indeed missing. Though her gut told her that the man in the shadows was right and something was terribly wrong with Ana, she had to make one futile trip here just to confirm her suspicion. Or maybe it wasn’t so futile, because just as she turned to leave, she felt a chilly wind on her arm and traced its source to a small crack between the door and the frame. It was open.

Na bi ignored last night's warning to not get involved and like always, didn’t think much before she pushed the door open and stepped in. She didn’t consider the possibility that this might have been a trap or that someone else might be inside already or that she might open up to something terrible but maybe luck was on her side because it seemed like she was alone and everything looked fine. At least at first sight, till she noticed the details.

The dishes in the sink were giving off a repulsive smell, the trash clearly hadn’t been cleared in very long. There was a bowl of cereal and milk which seemed like it was sitting on the counter for days now. The fruits in the bowl had rotten and the bread loaf on the table was way past its expiry date. To simply put it, it seemed like no one had been here in quite some time. There were no signs of struggle or injury though, no smell of blood. But there were two fading, faint lines made perhaps by suitcase wheels, leading from the door to the cupboard in the room.

Na Bi walked in and opened the cupboard, immediately noticing it was almost empty. Her eyes skimmed over the remaining contents, mentally noting that there were no pants, not many t shirts and no inner wear at all. What surprised her though was a white shirt that clearly belonged to someone much bigger than her - a man's, perhaps a partner? Na bi didn't know Ana had a partner but then again, she didn't even know Ana that well. But where was he? Was he looking for her too or did he disappear with her as well?

One thing was evident though. Given how things were left in the house and that clothes and even cash was missing, Ana wasn’t taken away, she left on her own. Which meant she was either running away from something or someone. But who?

Na Bi didn’t have to time to ponder over that thought, because suddenly the front door creaked - Someone else was here.

Following her instinct, she quickly climbed into the cupboard, closing the doors as softly as she could, covering her mouth tight to not let even the sound of her breathing be heard. She watched through the tiny air vents of the cupboard as two men she hadn’t seen before walked in, armed with guns, looking around.

“See, there’s no one here.”

“But I swear I saw her. A brown hair woman walked into the building-"

“Hundreds of people live in this apartment; it was clearly someone else. Where’s your head at, are you drinking on the job?”

“Of course I wasn’t…It really looked like her….” The shorter of the two looked around, first confused then disgusted. “Every time I come here I forget how terrible the smell is. Why can’t we get someone to clear the trash? Those bananas especially- ”

“Boss said nothing here was to be touched remember? Just do your job. Watch the place till you are instructed.”

“It’s terribly boring…”

And the voices faded away, perhaps as they left, allowing Na Bi to loosen her tense muscles just before they were beginning to cramp. She gave it a good ten-minute grace period to make sure they were truly gone and to decide what to do next before she climbed out of the closet. Moving quickly she stripped out of the shirt she was wearing, stuffed it into her own bag and pulled one of Ana’s pink sweaters over her head. She then grabbed a cap that was lying in there and put it on, tucking her hair into it. Without wasting much time, she left the house, leaving the door the way she found it and got into the elevator. She looked at her fuzzy reflection in the silver of the walls, adjusting her clothes and wearing a mask to hide her face just before it opened at the ground floor, revealing the two men from earlier standing right there.

They looked at her but Na bi didn't panic, she had made sure they wouldn’t recognise her but she still held her breath as she walked past the oblivious men still arguing about their ‘job’. Head down, she made her way out of the gates, onto the street, processing all the information and most importantly, her biggest observation – those two men, they were not wearing combat boots. That meant someone else was looking for Ana as well. Someone who had their eye on her house and by the look of their guns who were equally dangerous. The man in the shadows was right – things really were out of her hand and Na Bi had just walked herself straight into this mess.

And also into the rock hard chest of a very familiar man.

She looked up, rubbing her hurting forehead to see the man standing with his arms behind his back, a disapproving look all over his face. Wonho. And over his shoulder, Na Bi saw a black van. No no no, don’t tell me-

And sure enough, she was grabbed by her wrist and shoved into the van before it sped off.

��Are you sure you want another drink? You’ve had quite a few tonight.”

Na Bi raised her head and looked at the bartender through her hooded, heavy eyes.

“Just pour what I’m paying you for.” She slurred.

The man shook his head disapprovingly before placing a shot glass with pretty, pink coloured drink on the counter. “You don’t have to pay; the gentleman there already did.”

She got up with her drink, a bit too tipsy to fix her shorts that were far too up her thighs and made her way to this so-called gentleman sitting on the bar stool, further down from her. She found herself a place between his manspread, her eyes running from his long, bared neck to his only partially concealed chest. His eyes though, were fixed on her mouth. She knew he wanted it but what was the rush?

Na Bi rolled her head back lazily and looked in the direction he was pointing at. She was used to being approached by all kinds of men in the bar and she usually didn't care much. Though it didn’t take much to bring her inhibitions down, she was always in control of herself and a woman who knew what she wanted. The older men she refused, the younger ones she laughed at, the sleazy ones she steered clear of. But this one... this man was captivating and she could really use a distraction after the week she had.

“Why this drink?”

“Try it.” He half shouted over the music, so she raised her glass to down it, the warm liquid pleasantly burning her throat.

“I like it.” She licked her lips, knowing his eyes were fixed there. When they flickered up to meet hers, she felt hot under his gaze.

“I like you.” Uh oh, too cheesy.

Na Bi was unusually good at reading people; she saw right through him. He was incredibly handsome, with the kind of built that probably had women fawning over him all the time, but looking at his soft doe eyes, how his hands didn’t even try to touch her yet and his terrible way with words, she could tell approaching women was not something he did often. Normally Na bi wouldn't have done the following, but something pushed her to today.

Setting her glass down on the counter, she slowly took his hands and wrapped them around her waist before letting her own go round his neck, fingers making their way into his hair. With just millimetres between them, hot breaths mingling, she expected to feel her pulse quicken, like his did, in the veins of his neck. What she wasn’t expecting was how fast his mouth found hers, latching almost hungrily, like it waited too long. She pulled him back, guiding him to take his time, the night was still young after all. He felt like a strange ecstasy, lips, tongue, teeth, all of it, her stomach knotting like she was plummeting from a height as he pressed her up against himself harder. She was just letting herself get lost in the feeling of his mouth hot on her neck when she saw something across the room that felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. Combat boots.

Given how the last few days had gone by, Na bi felt an undeniable surge of annoyance take over. The man before her looked genuinely confused as she pried herself away from him a lot harsher than she intended to, made her way to the table with the two muscled, heavily tattooed men and slammed her hands on it.

“Where’s your boss?”

They looked at her expressionlessly.

“Where. Is. Your. boss?” She repeated losing patience but their stance didn’t change, as though they had been trained to not react.

Fine.

If they were not going to give her what she wanted, she would get it herself. Using all her strength, to their absolute shock, she pushed the table, wedging them between it and the couch, grabbed the car keys she noticed earlier and ran out. The moment she stepped out of the bar and pressed the unlock button, the beep resounded from a familiar black van so she quickly got into the driver’s seat, turning it on and taking off just in time to see the two men run out of the bar, missing her by seconds. She stepped on the pedal hard and zoomed into the night to once again meet the man who had made darkness his home.

The last time she was in this van was when Wonho had picked her up from near Ana’s house. She was so certain they were going to bring her back to warehouse and this time finish her once and for all but to her surprise, he dropped her home, with a warning as he pushed her out, onto the street. “If you know what’s good for you, then you know you should stop whatever you are trying to do.”

While anyone else would have been happy to have made out alive yet again, the fact that she was set free once more was driving Na bi up the wall because she just could not understand why. This time she had even ignored their warnings, then why were they still so lenient with her? Why did they let her go with another warning despite knowing that she clearly did not obey instructions well? Obviously for them, Ana’s case wasn’t a small issue because they too had their eye on her house - that’s how Wonho found her yet again.

Or so she thought.

Turns out it wasn’t Ana they were keeping an eye on, but on Na bi herself. She realised the very next day that she had only been let out of the cage but she was still on a leash because the moment she stepped out of her house, her eyes fell on a widely built man dressed in a black t shirt and olive-green pants, leaning against the lamp post across her building, tapping his foot. His combat boot clad foot.

Though that instantly made her remember the uncomfortable feeling of being shoved into the van, she pretended like she didn’t notice him and walked down the usual route she took to work, a little faster than usual. But it got harder and harder to pretend not to notice because somehow everywhere she looked, there were men in combat boots – in the bakery where she grabbed her breakfast, in the subway, on the train and even in her hospital - one of them was sitting aimlessly in the visitor lounge and another was lying on a bed, getting an IV drip for his “dehydration”. They were evidently tailing her, perhaps to make sure her amateur act of going to Ana’s house didn’t repeat again.

And this went on for a few days. Sometimes she saw the same people, sometimes others, sometimes men, sometimes women, but the black, the olive-green and those combat boots were a constant. Even when she went to the library for some peaceful reading, she didn’t have a second of peace. There was a constant uncomfortable feeling of being watched everywhere she went and everything she did. It only further annoyed her that they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were following her – if she ever accidentally made eye contact with them, they were already looking at her. The moment Na bi had stepped out of Ana’s house that day, she had already decided not to indulge further in this mess anymore so having these people constantly intruding in her daily life was only annoying her by the day but today was indeed the last straw.

She had finally come out to have some fun after an incredibly draining week, and to see those men watching her when she was having a preferably private moment was just -

Na Bi slammed the brakes as she reached her destination. The man at the bar. She had forgotten all about him and left without an explanation. A slight guilt rose in her chest but it quickly died down. She didn't owe him anything - he was company for just a bit, a momentary escape, an illusion before she threw herself back into her regular life. Being an ER nurse was not easy. She was constantly doing long hours of labour-intensive work, always on her feet, always bone tired. It felt nice to let herself go in the bar once in a while just so she could realign and prepare herself for the upcoming tiring shifts and today was such a great opportunity for that but here she was instead, in front of the large doors of the familiar warehouse.

All because of that man. That man who came into her life out of nowhere, for no reason, taking her peace away. She had to put a stop to this.

She got out of the car and walked up to the metal doors, slamming them hard with her fists, ignoring the pain. Before she could give it another good knocking, Wonho opened it, first looking at her puzzled, then at the van behind her and then at her again, analysing the possible situation.

“Well,” He leaned against the frame. “Didn’t think you of all people would be the most efficient at avoiding my men.”

“Shut up.” It was clearly the alcohol talking. “Where is Shadow Man?”

“Who?” He frowned, but Na Bi didn’t have the time for this.

She pushed herself past the blonde man, efficiently avoiding his attempt to reach for her and sprinted, faster than he expected, straight into the darkness that hid that man the last she was here. Her eyes fell on a door which she pushed open and immediately closed behind her, locking it to make sure Wonho could not reach her.

It felt surprisingly cold inside, the hair on her skin standing as she turned hearing that deep voice once again.

“You came back.”

Na Bi didn’t know what she expecting to see in here. Perhaps a luxuriously decorated room with a middle aged man sitting on a velvet couch, basically something straight out of the Godfather movie but the sight before her was nothing like that. It was a small, simple, dimly lit room with empty white walls, just a wooden table and chair in the middle and in front of it was a man with his back to her. He was tall and lean, putting on a black vest over his white shirt, looking at her over his shoulder, the long fringes of his hair covering most of his face.

“How did you find me?” He turned, walking up to her, finally appearing in the light and Na bi felt her lips part wordlessly.

He was beautiful. Beautiful in a way dangerous things were. Skin pale like it had never seen the light of day starkly contrasting his jet-black hair pushed back in a way that framed his face so appropriately. His eyes were empty but also saying a hundred unknown things at once. She wanted to know how to read them. Her gaze went down his sharp nose and his thin, blood red lips and Na Bi felt like she finally understood what people meant when they told her lips were captivating. She felt an irresistible pull towards his mouth, her hand unknown to her, reaching for it.

He took a step back, moving away from her but she held him by collar and pulled him back towards her, their faces inches away from each other. If Na Bi thought she felt electricity with any other man in her life, what she felt with him was feral. There was something about him that called out to her. Something about being so close to him that felt…..right.

“Sorry I just really wanted to….”

She let him go, moving back. She was drunk but she knew she came here with a purpose.

To answer his question, he honestly wasn’t that hard to find. Based on her observations last time, clearly, they had picked some kind of abandoned warehouse to bring her to, Seoul was scattered with tons of those. But the whole place reeked of gasoline and the mud that was on her shoes that night was almost black, like it had snoot so it was most likely a warehouse that had something to do with cars. That combined with the fact that the last time she was taken back home from here, it took roughly 30 minutes on average speed and very few stops at signals - that had ultimately narrowed it down to this old factory that stored old car parts.

But Na bi didn’t think she wanted Shadow Man to know all this. The key to dealing with a powerful man was to always withhold your own strengths till you really needed it. Her intelligence and ability to deduce was not something he had to know. Besides, she didn't think she could talk so much right now.

“I drove Wonho’s van.” She confessed. “Traced this location on the GPS of that.”

To her surprise, he laughed. For a man who she thought she was supposed to fear, he was not terrifying at all. In fact, he sounded nice….The urge to feel him was coming back up again. She had to fight it.

“Stop sending your men after me.” She stood as straight as she could to make her point. “I won’t involve myself in this anymore. I won’t try to find her or go to the police or tell anyone. I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you go to Ana’s house the day after I let you go? Despite my warning?”

Na Bi puffed her cheeks, slowly blowing out the air, gathering time to think how to get out of this situation.

“Well, now you should know I learnt my lesson and so I definitely won’t be doing it again.” The man looked amused. “Tell them to leave me alone please. It’s suffocating, its intrusive and its uncomfortable. I promise to be good.”

The man put on a perfectly tailored dinner jacket, smoothing the material. “I would, but they aren’t monitoring you Ms. Baek, they are there to protect you.”

Na Bi thought she was prepared for this conversation, she had prepared her points but suddenly it went in a direction she was not expecting at all.

“Protect me from what?”

“I am responsible for pulling you into a mess that had nothing to do with you. So, it’s my job to make sure you are not harmed any further. Till this settles down, my men will be around to protect you. But of course, if you insist you can take care of yourself then I will go by that.” He leaned close. “What do you want Ms. Baek?”

You.

“Na Bi.” She looked into those still undeciphered eyes. “My name is Na Bi.”

He nodded, wary of how she was still struggling to stand straight. Strange. It somehow felt like she was getting more drunk as time passed.

“What’s your name?”

He took a minute before he answered. “I.M”

“Hmm, you are?”

A soft smile danced on his lips as he looked at her intently.

“I am Changkyun.”

Na Bi could suddenly feel a wave of unconsciousness swell inside her and before she knew it, she fell right into his arms.

When Na bi woke up it felt like someone was trying to rip her brain out of her head. The hangover was terrible.

She struggled to sit up, looking around at her surroundings and froze. She was home. In her own house. The last thing she remembered was barging into the warehouse and meeting the shadow man. What did he say his name was again?

Na bi couldn’t remember. Jut like she couldn’t remember how she made it into her house, changed her clothes and got into bed……Actually, she could.

Things suddenly flashed before her eyes, memories in bits and pieces. She remembered the shadow man driving her home. She remembered him standing across her in the elevator, opening the door to her house. She remembered asking him to help get her pajamas from the closet. She remembered kissing him. She remembered him sitting on her bed, her climbing onto his lap, kissing him till she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She remembered him on top of her, pushing his hair back so she could see his face better. She remembered him leaning against the door frame, tying his tie as she snuggled under the covers.

“I’ll leave when you sleep.”

Na bi covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Oh god, what had she done last night?

#monsta x series #changkyun series #changkyun smut #changkyun angst #changkyun mafia #changkyun thriller #monsta x im changkyun #im changkyun #monsta x im #changkyun

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messiahb0lical · 2 years ago

Text

Prologue

Seoul doesn’t smell like the black smog hovering over it.

There’s traces of gasoline in the air, a surprisingly gentle hint of the petrichor and alcohol filled breaths of those who stumble across the streets at 1am. But that wouldn’t define what the scent of this city is. Seoul smells like….power.

Power so fickle, so unloyal and treacherous, beguiling everyone to put their hands on it but belonging to no one.

As the coat flutters loyally at my feet, the shadows unearth another unswering companion, my shadow, now a silhouette against the headlights of the car behind.

“Why you find this city so beautiful will always be a mystery to me.”

How does one not see it, the beautifully sketched out tragedy of light and dark. The moonlight gets lost in the city lights, but the darkness somehow makes its presence evident. It’s there in the shadows at the corner of the streets as that teenager exchanges cash for that small packet. It’s there in the deliberately broken streetlights to hide the cargo unloading under the bridge of the Han river. It’s there in the turned on lights of the lairs of sins that stand unashamed in the streets. You see, darkness is more than just the lack of light.

“Because when you look over, you see a city and I see what it holds.”

“And what does it hold?”

“Secrets.”

“How do you intend to find them?”

“I already have.” The city twinkles innocently, not knowing what I have done. What I’m going to do. “I own secrecy.”

“If you own what the city holds, you own the city.”

“Not yet sweetheart. There’s much to be done.”

“What has to be done?”

I don’t have to answer that. I know what has to be done.

Cold metal finds cold metal as fingers adorned with the many worthless silver rings wrap themselves around the silver railing. Cold metal, cold winds, cold eyes. From this height Seoul looks like nothing more than a rug under my feet. Not the kind that people wipe their feet on after a walk in the rain. Doormats have to be clean for that, for people like me - people with dirty shoes. Seoul is way too filthy to be one.

This place, it isn’t a doormat. It’s a carpet, the kind that’s rolled out to walk one to the throne. To take me to my empire.

“Hell is going to look so beautiful in Seoul.”

“It won’t be easy moving it here.”

“Have you seen the world? Hell is full already. I’m going to make my own.” The city is still throbbing with life, so blissful, so unaware. “I already have ideas for crucified centerpieces to decorate.”

“If you’re talking about the enemies, you underestimate them.”

“Don’t be dramatic, they aren’t enemies.” The scars are stark on my knuckles as testaments for what they really are. “I’m just hungry, and they’re in my way.”

“And you’re in theirs. The day they find out-”

“They will, and it’ll be too late. The game will end by then.”

“When do you intend on starting it?”

“Oh sweetheart, we’re already in the middle of it.”

I take a deep breath of the air that calls out to me everyday. Seoul really does smell like power. Power I will tame. I will teach it loyalty, I will teach it allegiance. But I would be a fool to expect that from people. That’s why I take my gun out and put a hole in the center of the face of loyalty. And as the body thuds to the ground, I walk away towards my carpet guided by the smell. It’s time for chaos.

| Masterlist | Trailer |

Taglist - @synnocence

#ahhhhhhhggg I am excited I have been waiting for this🤩#monsta x series

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messiahb0lical · 2 years ago

Text

Neglected | One-Shot (Wonwoo/I.M)

Rating/genre: M18+, established relationship, friends to fucking; smut 💖, light angst, light fluff Pairings: Fem!Reader x Wonwoo, Fem!Reader x I.M/Changkyun Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, dom!Wonwoo, dom!Changkyun, sub!reader (not bratty), morally questionable actions, infidelity, getting caught, jealousy? (i don’t even think Wonwoo knows if he’s jealous lol), Changkyun is kind of a shit, not an angsty ending, biting, rough sex, titty slapping, a single spank, marking, spit kink, degradation, overstimulation, the boys get a bit aggressive but reader is wholly consenting to it all, the boys also sound kind of manipulative at times but it’s all part of the play, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), deep throating, face-fucking, choking, good crying, a safeword/action is mentioned but not used, praise kink, multiple orgasms (like A LOT), reader wears a bra and panties, pet names ‘baby’ ‘pretty girl’ ‘slut’ ‘whore’ ‘good girl’, referred to as a 'toy', two hot unemotional doms who are actually softies bc obvs Word Count: 10.2k Summary: Nobody needs to be lonely; just say the word and you won't be. Your boyfriend’s best friend will make sure of it.

A/N: Reader cheats at the beginning so if you’re not ok to read that then… don’t lol. It ends up not being a big deal but still.

A/N 2: The first Build-Your-Own-Orgy (BYOO) woohoo!!! Two peeps requested the same idols! Thank you @drunk-on-dk and @lenireads for participating - I really hope you both enjoy this! Your requests were very slightly different so I tried to do something that would accommodate you both. Pretty much you both just wanted to get fucked up so ahahaha here you go… I died writing this so please let me know if it had a similar effect on you :D

He’d had his eyes on you all evening, across the little stretch of beach or through the blaze of the bonfire. Over a friend’s shoulder that he was chatting away at him. And, obviously, the only reason you’d been noticing is because it was impossible to not be aware of him, not let your eyes search the crowd for him every time you got distracted for a few minutes.

It had always been like this with Changkyun – the little tingle on your skin when he was around from the electricity in the air. Even the first time you’d met him, not long after you and Wonwoo had gotten together for real. But it had been easier to ignore when you were all caught up in your new relationship, blissfully blind to anything that wasn’t Wonwoo’s perfect hands on you.

Now…

Keep reading

Now you were struggling to ignore your attraction to him more and more. It wasn’t anything serious – you loved Wonwoo after all. This was just pure sexual attraction that left you embarrassingly horny every time your friend group hung out and he was present. He just had this… thing? Something that you couldn’t explain. The way he looked at you.

The way he was looking at you now with slightly hooded eyes. A smoulder but way more uncaring and quietly (almost imperceptibly) cocky.

Ok, so, perhaps you had a type.

You’d been watching each other so much all night that you’d zoned out of a handful of conversations, being brought back to reality with pokes on your shoulder, escalating to light smacks on the head from your friends as they giggled.

“Hellooo? Birthday girl?? What the fuck are you looking at?”

You’d brushed it off time and time again, blaming it on the alcohol you’d ingested when really, you could only call yourself tipsy if that. Perhaps you would’ve been having a rowdier night yourself if your nerves weren’t so on edge. Or if your boyfriend was actually here.

It wasn’t late. Downing the rest of your drink, you slid your empty solo cup under the bottom of your friend's and squeezed her arm. “Gonna go call Woo. I’ll be back!”

Loud exclamations, mixed reactions, followed you as you trudged through the sand, finding the pathway in the dark thanks to the glint of the moon and the deck lights that had been left on up at the beach house.

The house was big but not enough for the whole group of you. People would have to sleep on the couch or on the floor with blankets as a sad make-shift mattress. Perhaps it was a good thing that Wonwoo couldn’t make it for the little getaway weekend. One less body to accommodate.

Brushing off your sandy feet half-assedly, you made your way inside, the sounds of blasting music and squeals of your friend group becoming muffled by the patio door shutting behind you. You leaned your weight forward on the island counter, legs dangling as you let it ring, your boyfriend’s contact name staring you in your deflating face as you slowly realized he wasn’t going to pick up. It was 9:30pm. Was he still working? Surely, he wasn’t already asleep.

A light knock startled you, the sound of the door cracking open filling the silence before you could even turn around to see who it was.

“Crying at your own party?” Changkyun’s expression was blank as he ducked inside, finally smirking only when you shot him a look.

“Not crying.” You swiped up your phone, locking it before slipping it back in your pocket. “Also, not technically my party.”

“Wang’s beach house. Still your party.”

You rolled your eyes slightly, the nervousness hitting you again as you leant back against the counter, palms pressing to it on either side of you.

Hands tucked casually in his pockets, he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. It wasn’t sexual; you’d seen him do it a hundred times out of habit. When he was waiting. When he was thinking. But it still made you gulp.

“Well, guess I should get back out there.”

“He didn’t pick up?”

You looked at him surprised for only a moment before letting out a tiny indignant sigh. “No… he didn’t.”

“Ahh,” he replied with a little nod as if everything made sense now.

You’d always found Changkyun kind of weird in that quiet, interesting kind of way. At first you’d thought he didn’t like you at all. Wonwoo had assured you that he did. Maybe a little too much. Apparently Wonwoo was incredibly good at reading both of you.

Thankfully, he’d found it all kind of funny, Changkyun being one of his closest friends and everything. It still amused him even now, occasionally teasing you by jokingly suggesting you bring a third into your sex life and questioning you who you would want it to be. Who you thought would agree.

It was all a set-up so he could pretend to get a little jealous when you would shyly answer with the obvious choice, taunt you relentlessly, then fuck the hell out of you.

Even if he did notice how wet it made you – god, you hoped he didn’t – Wonwoo couldn’t possibly understand just how much Changkyun actually got to you. Especially now that he had realized the effect he had on you and had developed the audacity to actually take advantage of it.

Not as much when Wonwoo was around. But on the rare occasion when the group hung out without him or if you saw each other while out, Changkyun had become shameless in how he looked at you, breaking his usual stoic facade to send you quick but overtly deliberate looks, usually involving a cocky raise of an eyebrow or two. It drove you mad.

Once or twice, he’d leaned in when no one was paying attention, whispering lowly in your ear, making your skin prickle – always something so vaguely suggestive that you couldn’t actually call it inappropriate even though you knew the whole situation was.

When he stepped closer now, your stomach jumped. Yes, inappropriate is what this would be if he came any closer.

The only reason you didn’t think he was purely messing with you was thanks to a text he’d sent a couple months ago.

CK: if you’re bored when wonwoo’s busy lmk

CK: we can chill

Not incriminating on its own. But you’d never told Wonwoo about the offer. And you’d never taken him up on it, finding a way to deflect instead, make it sound like you were just as busy. But you weren’t.

He was a foot away, hands in his pockets, just stood in front of you casually in the still darkness of the kitchen. His head tilted down, his gaze meeting yours, and he did it once again: the eyebrow raise. Like it was a question. A request? A challenge?

It was intimidating and careless and so fucking hot. You wanted to punch him.

“What?” dropped from you, a bit abrasive.

“Why so cranky?” he asked, brows furrowing now as if he was actually asking. He wasn’t.

“My boyfriend ditched me for work,” you played along, head tilting to the side, jaw setting as you tried not to waver.

“On your birthday…” he added with a little wince of feigned sympathy, the whole thing meant to just rub it in more. “That’s shitty.”

You took in a little breath, working so hard to not let your gaze fall to the span of his broad shoulders, the hills of his firm chest beneath that thin t-shirt. “Kind of, yeah.”

He nodded, his gaze trailing down your body then back up. By the time he was meeting your eyes again, he was stepping forward once more, his hands coming to press against the counter on either side of yours. God, he always smelt so fucking good.

“Kyun.” You turned your head as you spoke quietly, inadvertently inviting him closer when you were just trying to avoid his gorgeous face. The awful buzzing inside of you was getting stronger.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Mm, nothing.” His lips brushed your neck like a feather, tickling and making you jump the tiniest bit. “Damn, how long’s it been since he’s touched you?” he said through a smirk before pressing them to you again, this time more firmly, sending a different kind of shock through you.

A tiny sigh left your lips before you forced yourself to morph it into words: “We can not do this.”

“You want to.”

That one caught you. It was useless to deny it, but admitting it to him felt criminal.

“You’ve been neglected… I can help,” he whispered against your skin, each word penetrating a little deeper. “Maybe Wonwoo will thank me.”

“I don’t think he will,” you whispered back, practically delirious as he reached your jaw, his nose ending up in your hair.

“You never know.”

“He’s just busy… We’re– we’re good.”

“I’m not saying you’re not.”

How could someone be so aggravating and so sensual at the same time?

“Just wanna make you feel good on your birthday,” he said then he was tilting his head to yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth and pausing a moment before pulling slightly, enough to make you moan pathetically.

Shit.

Tugged by his current, you connected your mouths, your hands floating up to hold his jaw.

He was closer now, pressing you right up against the counter, his arms wrapping around your back. The deeper the kiss, mouths widening to taste the alcohol on him, the more your inhibitions dissolved. Maybe you were more mad at Wonwoo for bailing than you thought you were. Or maybe he really wouldn’t mind all that much. You could lie to yourself, at least for a few seconds.

“Think I know how too. Did you know your boyfriend kisses and tells?” he breathed before kissing you again, concealing your surprise.

You pushed him back but only just enough, not really wanting him to go too far. “What?”

The hazy look in his eye was too much, his head tilting to look at you, gaze dancing over your face, down to your lips.

“What does that even mean? You guys talk about me?” Your heart was thrumming harder now, in nervousness, in excitement. Sure, you’d figured Wonwoo had bugged Changkyun about his attraction to you about as much as he’d bugged you about yours. But the look on his face was insinuating something else.

“Mhm,” he sounded out, moving for your lips again as if unable to stay away. “Told me about all the dirty shit you like.”

Your insides twisted, that unsettling feeling in your stomach emanating through you. What the fuck, Wonwoo?

“That you’re just a little whore for him,” he muttered, before taking your lip between his teeth again and biting a bit harder, releasing a second later to drag the tip of his tongue along it.

All of it sent a shot to your core, your face flaming with heat. “He shouldn’t be telling you stuff,” you replied stubbornly, even as your hands gripped into the front of his shirt and his moved to settle on your hips.

“Told me we’d probably have fun together.”

“He did not say that,” you pulled back once more to narrow your eyes at him.

He smiled smugly, apparently enjoying your reaction. “Maybe he did.”

“God, stop being such a fucking liar,” you urged before directing his mouth back to yours, his body coming with it and pressing all along your front. You had daydreamed too many disgusting times about his body pressed to yours like this to not groan at the feeling.

“Mm– not lying–” he spoke against your kiss, mouth tipping open wider to brush his wet tongue against yours, caressing it as one hand slid up your body, landing warmly on the side of your neck. Breathing a little heavier, he hovered an inch away. “He’s one of my best friends. You don’t think we talk?”

“He’s one of your best friends and you’re doing this–”

He interrupted you, licking into your mouth again as he caught your chin, distracting you with the firmness of his touches.

You were hot all over now, especially between your legs where the thrill of all of this had sunk into you despite you knowing how wrong it was. It wasn’t even a lie you were telling yourself; you truly did love Wonwoo. But you’d joked about this with him so many times now that some of the guilt over the idea had seemed to have rubbed away.

Why didn’t it feel that bad? It should feel bad. It didn’t. It felt so fucking good to kiss him, to have his one hand gripping your hip while the other held your jaw firmly, unable to move away.

When the two of you separated again, it was on his timing, you lingering in his hold, breathless with red bitten lips, peering up at him.

“Which one’s your bed?” he asked quietly with a subtle nod to the hallway.

“Is this just a ploy so you don’t have to sleep on the floor?” you muttered, trying to turn your face to look away but he wouldn’t let you, making you watch the slightly intimidating look he shot you, making it clear he was expecting a real answer.

“The master bedroom. But Sam and Kai are sleeping with me so…”

He was already walking away, catching your wrist and tugging you with him, not that you put up any resistance, following him and taking the moment unwatched to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Kyun,” you said worriedly once the bedroom door was closed behind you but your hands were already moving up his chest, feeling the hard muscle covering him, your feet moving with him as he backed up towards the bed. “Seriously, what are we doing?”

“Do you want this or no?” he asked, dipping his head down to kiss at your neck as his hands found their way under your shirt.

“You know that doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like seeing you lonely.”

“That’s what this is about?” you whispered, knowing full-well that that was not the truth.

“I also really want to make you cum. Over and over until you’re crying.”

Your jaw tipped open, head tilting involuntarily back as he sucked on your neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He sounded like Wonwoo. He sounded like Wonwoo when he had time for you, when he wasn’t working all the time.

He licked over the same spot, leaving a swipe of spit all the way up. It was dirty; it made you physically shiver. “You want that? Want to cry on my cock, Y/N?”

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, wetness seeping into your panties at the thought, his tone of voice, the way he was scratching lightly along your back. “Wonwoo will kill us.”

“He won’t care,” he replied quickly, devoid of emotion, lifting away a moment to be able to pull your shirt over your head with your full cooperation before adding: “Ok, maybe a little.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You can beg for his forgiveness. On your knees.”

Oh god, you were so wet. It was uncomfortable at this point.

“I’m sure it’ll work.” With that, he kissed you once more, drawing you to him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you deepened the kiss, humming into it, addicted to the feeling of him.

He sat back onto the bed, taking you with him, your legs splaying to straddle him as his hands caressed down over your ass before landing a sharp slap on one cheek. Even through the denim, you could feel the sting of it, reacting with a groan into his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

Separating your lips abruptly, you recognized Wonwoo’s voice in an instant, your heart beginning to thud heavily. It was lodged up in your throat. Like you couldn’t breathe. He was here?

When you looked at the doorway, he tossed his overnight bag to the ground, staring the both of you down.

There were no words to say. It was exactly what it looked like. You had meant to.

“Fuck, Wonwoo–…” you breathed out, scrunching your face up in shame before you could even think to move from where you were propped up over Changkyun – who hadn’t even been smart enough to take his hands off your ass.

He closed the door roughly. “Well, happy fucking birthday to you, huh?” he spat out too quietly before setting his jaw once again, the muscle clearly tensing even from feet away.

“I’m sorry, I–...” you started before once again finding yourself lost for words, letting out a gust of wasted air as your head dropped down between your shoulders in defeat.

When you went to move, he was already behind you, his touch forcing you to fall to the side instead, onto the mattress beside his best friend, catching you off guard; he was normally only ever physical with you during sex. He’d never laid a hand on you otherwise.

“I thought you were fucking kidding,” he said, now directed at Changkyun and making you blink up at him in confusion.

You felt cold all over, the dread of what this would mean seeping into you despite how fast your heart was pumping the blood through your body.

“I said it seriously,” Changkyun said before shrugging – fucking shrugging – where he was now propped, his hands splayed out behind him holding him up. “Not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo scoffed but it had a tinge of a laugh in it.

“Wait– what?” you asked, glancing between the two of them in confused panic.

“She just wants to be touched, man,” Changkyun said then, switching his attention to you as he leaned over onto one elbow, crossing his free arm to graze along your side.

And just as his words promised, you inhaled audibly at the touch, at the intimacy of his fingertips trailing towards your hip bone, the top of your jeans.

“No shit,” Wonwoo said sharply, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, one stubborn strand falling right back down onto his forehead. But then he didn’t say anything else, didn’t even make a move to stop his friend. He just watched as Changkyun’s thumb dipped under the waistband on your jeans and slid towards the button.

You gulped. Your body was incredibly confused, goosebumps popping up across your skin but no part of you was clear on the exact cause. Because Changkyun still looked hazily drunk on you, and Wonwoo was attempting to process everything at warp speed, his breathing seeming to calm even as his tongue pushed harshly into his cheek.

And then there was you, laid back on the bed, caught looking between them.

He popped the button, turning his head to look at Wonwoo as his fingers found the zipper and slid it down. “I think she’s nice and wet for us,” he said so simply, looking down right at the moment that Wonwoo’s eyebrows pushed up.

To be fair, he must’ve been longing for it too. It had been weeks since the two of you had fucked. You couldn’t be the only one feeling deprived.

His gaze hopped from Changkyun’s face to his hand to your face. “Baby,” he said firmly.

“I… I know,” you said nervously but still making no move to stop his friend. You didn’t want him to stop. But you had to keep your head, at least a little bit. “Should we– go talk?”

Changkyun paused where his hand was dipping inside your jeans, dangerously close to pulling a moan from you, to look up at Wonwoo for his reply.

“Talk about what?” He came close leaning over your legs, hands dipping into the mattress on either side of your thighs, to raise an eyebrow at you. “How you were about to sleep with my best friend? Behind my back?”

“I would’ve told you,” you said in a small voice.

Wonwoo licked at the corner of his mouth, staring you down. Why did it feel like his anger was more for show than anything? Why hadn’t he tossed Changkyun out of the fucking room yet?

The hand in your pants moved lower, finding the wet spot and pulling a soft inhale from you despite you trying to hide it, your lips pushing together.

“If you guys are actually going to fuck around on me, at least have the decency to include me,” he said finally, reaching for the top of your jeans to roughly pull them down and straight off, tossing them behind him onto the floor.

Beside you, the corner of Changkyun’s mouth quirked up.

What the fuck. The threesome thing has been a joke. A joke. Every time.

“Wait, what?” you asked, brows drawn together so dramatically, your eyeballs about to pop out of your head. For a second, you completely forgot about Changkyun’s fingers teasing over the crotch of your panties. “Aren’t you… mad?”

He didn’t respond, not even looking at you as he leaned back over you and bit at the top of your breast while his hands went underneath to unclasp your bra.

Reflexively, your hands tangled in his hair, a gasp coming out at the sudden knick to your skin just as Changkyun started to slowly rub in circles, making a bigger mess of the cotton fabric. Still, you pressed your head into the bed and arched up, making it easier for Wonwoo to fling the bra across the room as well.

“Do you want me to be mad?” He caught your nipple lightly between his teeth, finally tilting his head up slightly to look at you.

“I– I, I…” you stuttered out, startled by the feeling and just everything going on at once. With another breath you finally managed a flustered: “I just don’t want you to stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop.” He sucked the nipple into his mouth harshly, pulling a pained moan from you, the intensity on your touch-starved body hurting so good.

“You are fucking soaked,” came from beside you, Changkyun’s voice shaking you somehow more than his hand between your legs.

“I…” you went to speak again but there was nothing to say, a pant leaving your lips as Wonwoo continued to roughly tongue at your nipple, his other hand pinching and squeezing with similar vigour.

Then Changkyun pressed harder. Right on your clit.

“Ah, fuck.” Your hips bucked up, immediately beginning to grind against his hand. He was right; you could feel that you were so wet already. It was fucking ridiculous.

“It turns you on, baby?” Wonwoo paused only a second as he switched to your other breast, taunting you once more before enveloping your hard nipple with his mouth. “The idea of fucking my best friend in front of me?”

Changkyun scooted his body closer, eyes trailing up and down yours as his fingers continued their motion. It felt too good for what it was – as if your nerve endings were on fire. Because there was no way that a bit of rubbing over your panties would normally have you reacting like this.

You let out a little whimper before the words came. “You– you know the answer to that.”

“Can't believe you told him you wanted to fuck me,” Changkyun said in his low tone, piercing eyes finally connecting with yours. God, he looked so fucking hot, you couldn’t stop the way your teeth bit at your lip.

Wonwoo had started kissing down your torso, sucking harsh marks into the roundness of your breasts, the skin along your rib cage, tongue trailing down to your tummy.

“Fantasizing about your boyfriend's friend?” Changkyun continued, "Not good, Y/N."

Another whimper as you shut your eyes tight, this time more out of embarrassment than anything. “Couldn't help it.”

“Fuck, you are a little slut,” he mumbled, letting his head fall to your neck, his nose followed by his lips grazing along your jaw line. Then he was biting at your ear lobe, redirecting pain signals up before Wonwoo dragged them right back down again, a dark red spit-covered mark now emblazoned on your hip bone.

“Is that right? Are you my little slut?” Not even bothering to tell him to move his hand, Wonwoo just pulled the panties off with force, allowing Changkyun’s long fingers to press directly into your wetness, an audible squelching sound reaching all of your ears.

You moaned at the direct contact, back arching up as you reached out to grab onto Changkyun who was fixated on the sight of your bare core.

“Hmm? Are you my little slut, baby?” Wonwoo asked again as he crawled back up, pushing your legs apart until they were bent back, leaving you fully on display to both of them.

When you still didn’t answer, too distracted by the slippery circles being painted over your clit, he slapped the side of one of your breasts, just hard enough for it to grab your attention, following up with a pinch to both nipples. “Hm?”

“Fuck. Yes– sorry, yes. I am,” you spluttered out, clenching around nothing, more arousal undoubtedly leaking out of you as it always did when Wonwoo got rough with you or was mean to you in any capacity. Which was, fortunately, a lot of the time. Your sexual compatibility was insane – it was part of the reason why you ended up feeling so ravenous when he was too busy to be intimate with you for a week or two. You craved it.

“And you’re going to do everything I say? Be a good little girl?” He leaned down a bit to come face to face with your pussy, dangling his perfect mouth right in front of you.

You nodded, peering down at him where he had you pinned firmly with his hands on the back of your thighs, and watched as he gathered spit in his mouth then let it drop directly onto your hole. You could feel it, trickling down your folds to your ass and probably onto the sheets beneath you. It just made you moan more.

“Gotta prove to me that you can be good. Because that’s pretty fucking hard to believe right now, Y/N.”

“I can do that,” you said softly, slipping into obedient submission even faster than normal – thanks to circumstances.

He looked up at the room for a split second before focusing back on you and the desperate frown between your eyebrows. “You do everything I say. No fucking complaining, ok?”

You gave him another tiny yet fervent nod, eager for him to continue, for something, anything. Whatever he would give you.

“Ok,” he said, seemingly satisfied before he was tapping the side of your ass. “Turn.”

You did so quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he guided you where he wanted: your head half-hanging off the edge while Changkyun adjusted with you, ending up between your parted legs.

Right away, your friend was leaning over you, back to teasing your slick folds, making you shiver as you watched him. “This pretty pussy,” Changkyun groaned as he spread it open to two fingers, voice still quiet and relatively monotone even as he expressed his appreciation. “How does he fit in this tiny little cunt?”

The words made you clench, tightening more around the fingertips prodding at your entrance.

Wonwoo stood by your head. His clothes had come off quickly, his gorgeous dick hanging hard in front of your face when your head fell back to look upside down at him. “We make it fit. Right, baby?” he said too sweetly before grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Open.”

Your tongue was already out before he could even finish the word, lips wrapping around the thick head of his cock as he sunk into your mouth.

Barely giving you a second, he pushed in farther, his other hand coming to the side of your head as well to hold it in place.

At the same time, Changkyun was slowly sliding a finger into your warmth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat. “Just wants to be filled so bad.”

Your whine vibrated around Wonwoo’s cock, turning into a gag as he stuffed it down into your throat. Already wetness was springing to your eyes at the feeling of the hard intrusion, your hands jumping to rest on the sides of his thighs though you did nothing to try to stop his movements. All you wanted was for him to use you like he hadn’t done in weeks.

“Poor neglected pussy. Sucking me in,” Changkyun said and you could hear the exaggerated pout in his voice. “Wonwoo doesn’t pay enough attention to you.”

The fact that it was obvious that he was talking about your pussy over talking about you just made you whine more, the pathetic sound getting louder when he slipped in another finger, pushing them in deep until his knuckles were pressed right up against you.

Wonwoo had started fucking into your mouth, slow but not slow enough for you to mistake him for being gentle. No, he clearly didn’t care about making you comfortable, pushing it in deep until you were gagging all over again before pulling out to let you breathe a moment, letting the strings of spit hang from his dick.

You kept your mouth open, ready to receive him over and over again, even when your jaw started to ache a bit, wide eyes brimming with tears, staring up at him each time he pulled back enough for you to be able to see him.

“Good girl. Love it when you listen to me,” he groaned, finally letting you hear a bit of the satisfaction in his voice, the mix of the physical pleasure with the control he had over you.

A proud hum bubbled out of you, the praise sending an actual tingle across your skin and making you clench once more.

Changkyun started fucking into you a little harder, making you a little more crazy. But you weren’t sure how much farther you could go. It felt like they’d barely done anything to you and you were already about to crumple.

Wonwoo’s hands slid down from the sides of your head to your neck, thumbs crossing over to lightly choke you as he fucked into your throat a little quicker, using shallower thrusts to feel the way his length moved under his palms. He’d fucked you liked this before; only a handful of times but he always came so hard when he did, entranced by the feeling of his thick cock causing a protrusion in your throat.

It was hard on you though, taking him this way while simultaneously having Changkyun pumping into you. You couldn’t writhe and moan in the way you needed to. But you were being good – whatever Wonwoo wanted. Whatever they wanted.

Feeling him hard and leaking in your throat was enough to kill you, especially when he would look down at you when he pulled out, jaw dropped open as he took in your messy appearance. Even with the face he put on when he was dominating you, he could never fully hide the way you drove him crazy.

Cursing between breaths, your eyes locked with Wonwoo’s as Changkyun fucked into you harder, wrapping an arm around you to hold your hips down, and hooking his fingers in a way that had you crying out nonsensically.

“You’re such a fucking mess, baby. You like his fingers that much?” He rubbed his tip over your tongue that was once again obediently awaiting him, before pulling back. “Or you just like being used this much?” He smirked at your fucked-out nod, your eyes falling shut as the next moan was shook from you.

“Gonna come? Can’t even keep still,” you heard Changkyun chastise, leaning more weight onto the hand he had pinned across your body.

It put pressure on your lower stomach, making everything more intense, the drag of his fingers overwhelming as you tightened around him. Wonwoo’s grip on your throat tightened too and before you knew it, you were coming, practically gushing around Changkyun’s fingers as you cried out, zero perception of how loud you were being, your hands flying to yank on the sheets on either side of you.

“Good girl,” one of them said, so low you could practically feel it, but in your haze their deep voices were interchangeable.

You were still wiggling under Changyun’s hold, taking his unrelenting ministrations, still shivering in pleasure, still disoriented, when you felt Wonwoo’s hand move to your jaw, a brief warning before his dick was pressing at your lips, opening them easily to push in again.

“Keep going. Being such a good little toy now.” He was being nice, using your lips that you were suctioning as best you could, using your tongue that you were trying to remember to work, guiding himself not too deep into you over and over until he too was moaning.

When you came down to earth and the fingers in your pussy became too much, you reached for your friend’s hand, grabbing at his wrist blindly. But he just pushed you away, holding your wrist tightly to your tummy as he continued his pace, not even bothering to slow down to give you a chance to recover.

You moaned out your disagreement, slight alarm even, at the intense feeling but it was like it barely met his ears, muffled by Wonwoo sliding into your mouth again and cooing at you that you could take it.

He knew you could; he knew you so well. He’d pushed you far. He also knew that you would tap his leg three times if you really needed them to stop. Had that been something he’d told Changkyun too?

When you heard a sharp pftoo, it was followed by another glob sharply hitting your clit. He pulled his fingers out for a moment to collect the extra lubrication before pushing them in again, now with three instead of two, flipping to be palm up.

“Ahh,” you gasped out around the cock in your mouth, quickly losing your mind to the point where you could barely do your job anymore. No, now you really were just a hole for Wonwoo to use, fucking himself into your mouth as every muscle in your body contracted, a sudden pressure so strong at the way Changkyun’s perfect fingers were back to abusing your g-spot.

Once again, you could hear the wetness of your orgasm, his fingers pumping in and out at lightning speed as he drew out your euphoria. The pleasure shot out from your core, to your fingertips, to your tiptoes. All you could do was sob around Wonwoo’s cock as he came too, one hand bracing gently on your chest as the other jerked himself through it, keeping just the tip between your lips.

“Fucking– ughhh,” he groaned, the thick cum hitting your tongue and being quickly swallowed down in your effort not to choke. When he was done, he pulled away, the final dribbles of his release getting smeared on your cheek before he was wiping it up with a finger to push into your mouth.

Finally, Changkyun was slowing his movements but you were still shuddering, attempting to babble at him that it was enough.

“You wanted him so bad. You’re gonna take whatever he gives you. I know you can take a lot, baby.”

The words didn’t really sink in. Your eyes were still closed, your body finally able to relax down into the mattress now that Changkyun had stopped moving his hand, seemingly adjusting himself on the bed from the way it was dipping.

Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with the wet warmth of a tongue enveloping your clit, swiping over it in broad strokes, and you could feel his fingers pressing against your front wall rhythmically. He couldn’t really be trying to get you to come again, could he?

“Ah, god. It’s– it’s too much–”

But then, just when you felt like you were going to have to push him away, the surge of pleasure was hitting you. He was pulling against the inside of you just right, mixing it with the suction on your clit, making you moan desperately for him again, your fingers tangling in his hair for grounding.

“Fuck! Kyun–” Your words were strangled, messy, completely involuntary. “Oh my god, I’m coming again, I’m coming, I’m coming–” you rambled, turning it into a whiny sob when you started to run out of breath. You couldn’t help the way you were rolling your hips up against his face, your back arching off the bed and your hand still gripping tightly in place so he wouldn’t dare stop – not until your third high had run its course.

It was only once you’d collapsed into jelly that he backed off, removing his fingers and leaving you with one final lick of your arousal, gathering it on his tongue and swallowing it down as you lifted your head to stare down at him in disbelief.

Now you were truly a mess, eyes still watery around the edges and your chest heaving from the exertion simply from coming that hard.

He smirked, licking at his fingers as he sat up onto his knees, letting you get a good look at the large tent in his pants. Fuuuck.

But you were so fucking spent already. “I can’t, I can’t,” you whispered with a shake of your head.

“He knows what he’s doing, baby.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you said under your breath but they both heard you because Changkyun let out a sexy little chuckle and Wonwoo was smirking at you as he came back over from where his bag sat, chucking a condom onto the sheets beside you.

“Remember when you said you were going to do everything I say? That means taking everything that we’re giving you, pretty girl.” He climbed on the bed as Changkyun climbed off to undress. “I’m being so nice right now. So you don’t get to fight it.”

“I… I already came three times,” you said exasperated but your voice was soft, hoping it would help you attain the pity you were looking for.

“So?” he asked uncaringly, pushing his eyebrows up at you and shrugging. Well, clearly this wasn’t going to go in your favour.

“So... it’s a lot…” you said even more pathetically, sitting up shakily and reaching out for him to come closer.

He did so immediately, helping you so you were both kneeling on the bed, your hands slipping over the defined muscles of his abdomen. “Yeah, but I don’t care.” It came out so patronizingly sweet, the chosen words in complete contradiction to his tone and the way he was gently holding you steady in front of him.

Crazily, it sent a wave of arousal through you, straight to your swollen, sensitive cunt, forcing out a little frustrated whimper from you.

“My needy little slut wants a cock so bad that she’s willing to fuck my best friend. But now that she gets it, it’s too much. Is that right? Is it too much, baby?” he carried on, now in a much more commanding tone, looking over to Changkyun who had settled near the two of you on the bed, then back to you.

Your chin tipped up, asking for a kiss as you tried to tug him closer.

“Answer the question, baby.”

“No…” you said through a pout.

“No, what?”

“It’s not too much.”

He took hold of your jaw. “So, you’re going to be good?”

Your tongue wet your lips as you nodded in his grip. “Can I have a kiss, baby? Please?”

“Open,” was all he said then you were doing so, sticking out your tongue for him once again so he could spit on it forcefully. He waited a moment, admiring you and your puppy dog eyes, mouth wide open like a good little girl, before he closed it with a press of his fingers under your chin and instructed you to swallow.

As soon as you had done so, he was pulling you into a deep kiss, the feeling a shattering relief in your system. He was familiar; he was home. Even when he was treating you like this because he knew you loved it, he was your ultimate comfort. With a hum of satisfaction, you kissed him back eagerly, hands wrapping around the sides of his neck as you pushed your body flush with his.

“Take his dick and don’t complain,” he said when he pulled back, pushing you softly away from him and towards his friend who was now tearing open the condom with his teeth.

“You sure, man?” Changkyun asked casually as he slid it on. It was the first moment you actually took in his dick and how big it was. How it rivalled Wonwoo in length and girth. And how it was about to ruin you.

“Do whatever you want. She wants to get used? Use her.”

Again, you found yourself gulping, your heart speeding up at the mean words. You wanted it so bad but Changkyun made you nervous. Clearly he was relentless in the same way your boyfriend was. And yes, you trusted him as a friend. But this was all new.

“How do you want it?” he asked you, catching you off guard as you came closer, taking in the gorgeous lines of his built physique. Before you could answer, a hand was sliding up your neck so he could take hold of your hair and use it to turn your face up towards him and his apathetic eyes. “Hmm?”

How had you ended up in bed with someone even colder than your boyfriend? Fuck, you liked it so much. The thought distracted you, keeping you from answering.

“Fine. I’ll choose,” he said, letting go of his hold so he could spin you around, a hand coming down on your back to push you onto your hands and knees.

Even with how spent you were from the previous orgasms, your knees quickly spread a little wider as you lowered yourself onto your forearms, presenting yourself as if you were the birthday gift.

“Such a pathetic little slut. Just wanted to get fucked so bad,” Changkyun taunted as his hand caressed your ass cheek, pulling you open for him as he directed his cock to rub over your slick lips.

“God,” you sighed out a moan, swaying back in search of more.

“You just love being talked down to, don’t you?” he said amusedly as he leaned over your back and pushed down on the back of your neck, retreating his length away from you. “Fuck…”

Right away you were whining, not prepared for him to tease after how the night had gone so far. Normally Wonwoo teased you so much, made sure you were capable of being a patient good girl for him. Tonight, you’d been spoiled.

“I told you. She fucking loves it.”

Your head turned to look at Wonwoo as you tried to comprehend his words. But as much as you wanted to say something, present your disdain for your sex life being shared so openly, deep down you just found it hot. Because it was him and Changkyun. And the idea of them talking about you like that made you feel strangely powerful, filling both of their minds in such a way.

And, there was the fact that you were so thoroughly in a submissive headspace. You couldn’t talk back to Wonwoo if you tried.

“Arch your back for me,” came next and you did just that, pressing your chest to the bed and lifting as best you could for Changkyun’s hands to caress the globes of your ass.

“I told she’s perfect,” Wonwoo spoke up, settling beside you so you could see him where you had your head turned.

Changkyun chuckled. “You did say that. Many times.” His tip was teasing at your hole again, dipping inside marginally before brushing over your clit to make you jerk slightly. “You didn’t know that, baby, did you? That your boyfriend tells me about how perfect your pussy is all the time?”

When you turned slightly to look up at him, Wonwoo was watching your reaction unworried, hand reaching out to stroke your hair. “I only say good things, I promise.”

Your brows pulled into a wince, your body reacting more to the sensations than to any big revelations going on. At this point, you really didn’t care. You just needed him inside of you. Why was he still not inside of you? “Please. Feel so empty,” you whined softly.

Changkyun cursed under his breath, pushing into you a little before pulling back. “That was so cute, it almost worked.”

Everything he said was making your stomach flip but the word ‘cute’ coming from his lips to describe you was doing even more. “Please, please,” you whispered out a few more times, using your last few brain cells in the best way you could imagine.

He groaned again, gripping harder where his hands sat on your hips. Wonwoo laughed at him and you almost smiled.

“Changkyun-ah…” you breathed. “Want you please.”

“That’s how she gets you.”

“Such a good girl. Asking so nicely,” Changkyun praised as he pushed in again, this time granting you a few rock-hard inches.

“Oh my god,” you choked out, your body tipping forward a bit, retreating from the intense stretch.

“Nuh-uh-uh-” Wonwoo sounded, leaning forward to place a firm hand on your back – a clear direct that you were to stay in place.

“Be good,” Changkyun said firmly at the same time.

With that, you did so as best you could, face smushing into the mattress as you stayed still, hands scrunched up in the sheets, taking everything he gave you as he slid in further.

“Fuck, good fucking girl.” Now, Changkyun was even more talkative, words slipping out effortlessly at the feel of you. “How are you so tight around me still? Did you not already come three times? What the fuck?”

Your reply was simply a wavering moan as he bottomed out in you, his hands pulling your hips back against his pelvis until he was pressed in as far as he could possibly go. “I–” you squeaked out before stopping yourself.

“Don’t say it’s too much, baby. I won’t be happy with you.”

“But–” you started to say but you shut yourself up when Changkyun started to move, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back into your sensitive warmth.

“But what?” he asked from behind you, sliding in again and again until you couldn’t even process either of them speaking to you. It felt so fucking good after him making you wait, your perpetual arousal making him slip in a little easier and allowing that squelching sound a reappearance. "You can take it.

It was practically unfair how easy it was for both of them to get you like this. Changkyun knew how to fuck you as if he’d done it a hundred times.

He’d barely been pumping into you for two minutes before you were already on the brink, endless pathetic sounds coming from you as you took him deep, any discomfort from the rough handling earlier disappearing as your cunt pulsed around him.

Wonwoo was laid beside you now, whispering more dirty shit into your ear as his fingers tucked into your hair once again – they’d talked about you so much, about how much Changkyun would enjoy ruining you too, about how you thrived on being dominated… It was no wonder that he would always look at you the way he did; he’d already fucked you in his head a thousand times over.

Breathy moans fell from you with each word. It was too good. Wonwoo knew just how to talk to have you clenching around his friend’s cock so hard that it almost hurt, making more tears spring to your eyes.

Changkyun cursed behind you, fucking you even harder at the sound of your whimpers. “She’s gripping me so tight, Jesus Christ,” he groaned out with effort.

When Wonwoo pulled back to be able to slip two fingers into your mouth, you knew – and he knew too – you were about to be done for. Because as soon as you were done dutifully sucking them, coating them in your spit, he was reaching under you and finding your clit to rub in quick circles.

You gasped but nothing else came out as you came hard for both of them, jaw dropped open as you pressed your forehead down into the mattress, holding tightly to whatever you could.

While Wonwoo’s hand worked furiously, Changkyun just fucked you harder, low moans coming out of him at the feeling of your walls spasming around his length.

“Good girl… Coming so good for us,” Wonwoo praised. “You like my friend’s cock? Just needed a dick? Any dick to get off on?”

You were still in another world but you felt yourself shake your head as if it was someone else.

“No, that’s right. I know you wanted his. Is it as good as you thought, baby?” he asked, the taunting tone so evident in his voice. “Is it better than mine? Or is mine still the best you’ve ever had?”

You knew you shouldn’t answer. You couldn’t talk anyway, not with the way they were both carrying on, not giving you a spare second for your body to come down and reset. No, Changkyun was still rolling into you, not as hard but still sliding in steadily while Wonwoo fondled your clit between his fingers.

Your body writhed but it wasn’t sure whether to go towards the stimulation or away. When you finally could speak, all you could get out was a tired: “Oh my god.”

“I know, baby, I know.” So condescending that it thrilled you all over again. “But Changkyun-ah’s not done.”

You whimpered, the sensations grating on you now, despite them not being painful. Still, Wonwoo’s fingers were doing wonders to soothe, swirling over your clit just right, until you were melting into the bed.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, helping you to lift your head and turn it to kiss him. It set you alight again; something you would never get tired of, Wonwoo’s soft lips moving over yours so tenderly.

When you moaned into the kiss at the brush of his tongue, you tightened once again, pulling more sounds from the man behind you.

“One more. Come for me once more, Y/N-ah, then I’ll come for you.”

You could hear the strain in his husky voice but he still sounded far too held together for everything that was going on. Apparently, like his best friend, he too had superior self-control.

While you couldn’t fathom coming again, Wonwoo disagreed, pulling back from the kiss to look into your shiny eyes. “One more, baby. Give him one more for me. You’re so wet, dripping all over my hand. My little whore. I know you can give us one more.”

Your immediate reaction was to pout at his serious face, your head easily falling back to the bed with the jerks of your body.

But then Changkyun was directing your hips back a bit more, lowering them slightly so he could hit a different angle, a somehow better angle, once that made him feel bigger inside of you. “Here, like this. Fuck – does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding eagerly as the feeling overtook you, making you see stars. Then you were gasping again as he hit into that spot harder: “Oh fuck!”

Wonwoo’s lips found your neck, sucking harshly at the skin, making up for how unblemished it had been recently. Doubling down, he used his free hand to pinch your nipple, trying to send you into sensory overload and succeeding.

More moans; this time from both of you as Changkyun got close as well. But you couldn’t worry about him because suddenly you were coming again, the wave hitting you so hard and fast that not a single one of you seemed to expect it.

“Ahh, fuuuuck, god–” Body tingling, you shook in place, your legs about to give out, hip flexors on fire from the effort to keep yourself up. But it was so good that it was somehow worth it, all the dopamine coursing through your veins making you feel like you were floating.

As you tensed, riding out the feeling, his thrusts faltered, the start of his release meeting the end of yours with the way he pushed deep and held himself there.

With a few throaty curses, he spilled into the condom, staying enveloped in your tight grip for an extra minute as the both of you tried to catch your breath.

“Good job, baby,” Wonwoo praised softly. “Such a good girl.”

You were sticky; you were sore – but none of that compared to the buzz still flowing through you. Not just from the orgasm but from the whole thing. You were so tired, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you were dreaming, about to wake up in a groggy state next to the two drunk friends you were supposed to have shared this bed with.

Wonwoo was watching you, thumb brushing over the mark he’d left on your neck before moving to push back the strands of hair that were slipping into your face. “You good, love?” he asked softly, careful eyes watching you as you took in a deep breath, not fully there yet.

When Changkyun pulled out of you gently, your body slipped down until it was flat on the mattress, the soreness in your hips aching for a moment at the release of tension before it started to subside.

It wasn’t surprising when he didn’t say anything else, disappearing to chuck the condom before coming back onto the bed with his boxers replaced. He sat on the other side of you, watching as Wonwoo embraced you, kissing your forehead, cheeks, nose.

“I’m good.” You smiled warmly at his affections, sleepy eyes taking slow blinks before you were able to focus them on him. “So, so good.”

He seemed to like that, his face softening at the words and the way you were looking at him. “Mm, I fucking love you,” he said, all cutely aggressive before he was pressing another kiss to your lips. Satisfied, he rolled onto his back, one hand coming up to run through his hair while the other lingered on you.

Feeling the need to move your shaky body, and wanting to be able to see Changkyun again in the process, you flipped over as well. When you looked at him, laying a hand on his bare knee and giving it a tiny squeeze, he looked at you a little surprised.

“Hey,” you breathed, not really sure what to say but wanting to say something. You’d all been so caught up in the lust and excitement – now all that was left was the actual fallout of every insane decision that had been made in the last hour.

“Hey,” he said in his awkward way, almost suspiciously, though he didn’t seem nervous at all. His gaze dropped to your hand before meeting your eyes once more.

You couldn’t help the little breath of laughter that came out. This was all ridiculous. You pulled yourself up, making sure you didn’t feel too dizzy before pushing off the bed onto your feet. Yep, you were definitely going to be sore.

They both watched you as you tiptoed to find your clothes that had been whipped around, pulling on enough to cover you before you slipped out of the door to go find the bathroom.

Being alone while you peed, it made it easy to worry about what happened now. But instead of allowing yourself to speculate, you hurried back to the room, walking in and shutting the door swiftly behind you to find the two of them chatting and laughing as they pulled on their own clothes.

Now, you felt nervous but in a different way. In a butterflies way.

“Yeah, we'll see,” is the last thing that Wonwoo said before he was looking at you expectantly, switching his attention.

You walked right to him, clinging to his side as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hi baby,” he greeted, thumb rubbing over your shoulder where he held you. “Go on,” he whispered, loosening his grip for you to climb on the bed, knowing he’d follow, knowing he cared to be extra attentive after something like that. “How do you feel?” he asked, settling against the headboard as you curled up on him, his arms circling your waist.

“All good,” you assured, enjoying the warmth around you as your eyes settled on Changkyun.

He was standing at the corner of the bed, hands finding his pockets once more, looking at the two of you.

“You can come here, you know,” you said after a moment, feeling like something would be unresolved inside of you until you felt him on you too.

It felt far too weird to just go back to giving each other looks after that. The remnants of your last orgasm hadn’t even fully settled inside of you and he was standing six feet away like he hadn’t just been responsible for every single one of them.

He shot you a look, brow quirking up, looking so handsome all of a sudden. “Where the fuck do you want me to go?”

“Right here,” you offered casually, opening your arms to him. “We’re all entitled to a bit of aftercare, I would think.”

His lip twitched, his gaze darting to Wonwoo.

“As long as that’s ok with you,” you added over your shoulder upon realizing you were taking a startling amount of liberties in your relationship in one day.

“It’s not like either of you would listen to me anyway,” he said flatly but he squeezed you a bit tighter. Changkyun’s little smile – like he was suppressing it a bit – confirmed that Wonwoo was just teasing once more.

When he climbed on and crawled over, now apparently comically unsure how to move around you, you had to actually pull him down on you to get him to settle, letting him rest back against your chest.

“This is so weird.”

“Shush,” you admonished softly before nuzzling into the embrace on both sides of you, his upper body too broad for you to really wrap around him well. “You wanted to fuck me? This is what comes with it.”

You could feel the little chuckle he let out before he finally let the weight of his head rest back against your sternum.

“Ok then,” he gave in quietly and you were surprised at the relief you felt.

Wonwoo kissed your hair before whispering into your ear: “You’re cute.”

It made you giggle. “Obviously, we need to talk about this…”

“Mm,” Wonwoo agreed noncommittally.

“Mostly, I feel like you need to say something.”

“Mm,” he sounded out again, more like a grumble. This whole situation was a surprise to you but Wonwoo’s lack of desire to talk it to pieces wasn’t.

“Or don’t,” you added, laughing once more. “Just thought you might… have some thoughts.”

Changkyun just listened, a hand coming to play with your fingers where they laid on his clothed torso.

“I love you,” Wonwoo said after a moment.

“I love you,” you said through a smile, turning your head slightly to kiss his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me for Changkyun.”

Another chuckle. “I’m not leaving you for anyone.”

“Then we’re good.”

“See, I told you we’re good,” you said, tapping your hand lightly on Changkyun’s abdomen.

“And I told you he’d forgive you,” he replied right away.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as your arms unconsciously cuddled him closer. Then you felt him grasp your hand in his, still leaving it where it was.

“So, is this happening again or…?” he asked, voice completely neutral.

You turned your head once more, a signal to Wonwoo that he was expected to speak.

“Mm,” he hummed once more, sounding sleepier now as his head came forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll figure out how it’ll work in the morning.”

“Really?” you asked quietly.

“Someone needs to take care of you when I’m too busy,” he said simply, like it was terribly obvious.

Your toes wiggled involuntarily, the embarrassing habit betraying your happiness. It made Wonwoo let out a deep chuckle.

“Cute,” Changkyun said, twisting his leg to knock against your foot.

With a squeeze of his hand, you shushed him and smiled.

A/N: clearly i really struggle to write just smut. like i just get attached to the characters and want there to be something deeper or give them some kind of happy ending or life after whatever i’m writing. so sorry if the ending stuff feels random. i just felt like i had to have some kind of resolution between the three of them for my own sake! especially after the smut being a bit more intense… so yeah! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did 💕

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#LAWD MERCY #😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#wonwoo smut #changkyun smut #my turn when 😭#I never knew I needed these 2 together #fic rec #i.m smut #monsta x smut #seventeen smut

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