#I thought I’d have trouble taking it… I did not…

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Part 7) (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you this final chapter <3.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, very light degrading (slut, dirty girl), P in V, intimacy between the boys <3, mentions of over stimulation, I think that's it. FLUFF, story starts angsty but ends fluffy <3.

ANGST, Chapter starts where the last one left off, Martin's dad drunkenly corner's Y/N and gets spicy. (Unlike what happened with his son, weight isn't mentioned. He's salty about Eddie and Steve), the boys come to the rescue.

Word Count: 6938

Series Masterlist/Donate to Me

“Fucking asshole.”, the dean murmurs under his breath as you all take a seat. “I’m sorry for that, Y/N. No matter what, Jared has no reason to speak to you or anyone like that. I was hoping when his son was expelled, I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore but—”

His voice trailed off as he finally glanced up and noticed you were crying while Eddie tried to comfort you. 

“Yes…well, Steven, your father had a busy weekend. I guess you three were at his house and he called Mr. Click who in turn sent someone to follow Miss Y/L/N. They got some snapshots of her leaving your home…”

The coach growled as his fists clenched. 

“I shouldn’t have gone over there. I’m so stupid.”

“Are they in trouble?”, you ask in a small voice that has Steve sighing as your professor reached out to pet your head. “Please, they didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me and—”

“Technically they did do something wrong.”, he cut you off, exhaling heavily as he leaned back in his chair. “You know, the quake happened while I was a professor myself. I taught history of all things.”, the dean chuckles. “Before that though, the professors were put on notice about a murderer running around Hawkins and to be on alert…Just in case Edward Munson showed up on campus.”

The metalhead’s eyes fell and you felt Steve’s arm reach across your back to rub his shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you but I knew a Wayne Munson. He was a freshman when I was a senior in high school…Forgive me for showing my age… Wayne had this hard exterior but I remember he was always a good kid. Some of the teachers would treat him like shit because of your grandfather and father. Little Allen Munson seemed to be following in his father footsteps even though your uncle did what he could detour that. 

That was the first thought I had when news came out about you, Eddie. I truly believed you were innocent…and I still do. That’s why I hired you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Bill, I’ve known since about that time to and he hasn’t changed.”, Dean Gilman sighs in annoyance. “Still a little boy who needs all the attention he can get. You were headed down that path for a while, son.”

“Yeah…I decided I didn’t want to be an asshole.”

“Hm. Good choice.” He pauses and you feel his eyes scan you over before he continues. “Were you both planning on going with her to New York?”

“Yes.”, they both responded in unison before the coach followed with, “We were going to give you our resignation letters on the last day of the semester.”

“Found a job yet?”

They shake their heads. 

“There’s a football team at one of the universities looking for a coach…” Steve’s head shot up as the dean wrote something down and handed him the paper. “It’s not at NYU but I assumed you wouldn’t want to coach at the school she’s at. I already called and he’s anxious to meet you.”

“I-I-I…thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Munson, I’m afraid I don’t know of any colleges hiring professors but I can keep looking and I recommend you look to. I’d be more than happy to write a recommendation.”

“Wait…are—are we in trouble?”, you ask, completely thrown off guard by his kindness.

“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t see the point. I mean, is it consensual? They aren’t hurting you or forcing you into this right?”

“No, sir. I love them.”

“Good…good. If you weren’t leaving, I would HAVE to do something but…fuck them. You three have been through enough and you’re almost out of here. That doesn’t mean I want to see open PDA on campus or anything—”

“Oh, no, sir. We would never…”

“Ok good. Now get out of my office.”, he chides lightly before being thrown off guard when you run around the desk to give him a hug. 

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie and Steve beam your way, holding the door open for you as you happily bounce out into the lobby. “Oh my God. Is this really happening? Is everything really ok?”

“Yeah, baby, it is and even better…”, your professor pauses as he yanks on his partners hand to bring his lips to his own. “…I can do that. I can’t wait to do it with you, sweetheart.”

***

Steve grins as he watched his partner carefully packing his books nestled in his office shelf into the box at his feet. 

“Baby, they aren’t glass. They won’t break.”

“Says you, Mr. Harrington, but a lot of these are first or collector’s editions so you’re lucky I’m even putting them in a box and not like a protective dome that costs more than the book itself.”

Biting his bottom lip, the coach leans forward to grab Eddie’s waist and pull him onto his lap. 

“I love you, freak.”

“I love you to, asshole.”, the professor laughs, kissing his lips. “Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me.” When the man only hugs him tighter, the metalhead wraps his arm around the back of his neck and brings his head to his chest. “We still have to be careful, sweetheart. We aren’t out of here just yet.”

“I know but…”, Steve sighs as he presses his face into his boyfriend’s soft, cigarette smelling shirt. “10 years, Eddie. I spent 10 years hiding how much I care about you…Now that people know…now that my FATHER knows…it’s hard to reign it in.”

The long-haired man smiles softly as he tilts down to kiss his fluffy head of hair. 

“Have you heard from him?”

“No and I most likely won’t. It’s good for him because I want to fucking kill him for talking to Jared.”

“You know where my dad is?!”

At the sound of Martin’s exasperated shout both men hastily rose to their feet with Steve pushing Eddie behind him. 

“What are you doing here, Mr. Click? You’re not allowed on campus.”

“You mentioned my dad’s name. Do you know where he went?”

“What are you talking about—”

“Fuck! I came here to warn you because Y/N wasn’t in her dorm—”

“You’re not allowed anywhere near her.”, the professor growled, moving to position himself at his partner’s side. 

“I fucking know that but my dad’s been out of control since the dean kicked him out of his office and he found out you three aren’t in trouble. He tried to talk to her mom but she just slammed the door in his face…” 

Both men exchanged a worried look; you hadn’t told them that. 

“He’s been drinking non-stop and even missed work today—”

“What’s your point, Martin?!”, Steve shouted, his fear beginning to take over. 

“Fuck! I’m trying to tell you…I think he’s going to do something stupid! I told him to let it go especially since I heard you guys were leaving but he kept mumbling about how it’s not fair and Y/N should be reprimanded even if he has to do it himself.”

The boy barely got his last sentence out as they collected their jackets and pushed him aside to hurry towards the parking lot. 

“Where is she?”, Steve asked firmly.

“Diner with Theo.”, Eddie answered, climbing into the passenger side of the BMW before his boyfriend revved the engine and sped out away from the school. 

***

How were you back here?

How were back outside this stupid diner with a Click cornering you?

Thankfully you weren’t alone but you were also aware that with Martin’s father you were in a bit more danger than with the boy himself. 

“Go away, Mr. Click. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking straight…”, Theo pleaded with an authoritative edge as he kept you safely behind him. 

“No, I’m thinking clearer than I ever have. Jason Carver had the right idea 10 years ago. You have to fight back to get what you want especially in Hawkins. Unfortunately, he died and his killer is walking free. It’s not right…just like it’s not right that my son is expelled!”

“Me being with Eddie has nothing to do with what your son did.”

Jared’s eyes widen as he staggers forwards while Theo guides you backward away from him. 

“Of course, it does, honey. It’s all connected in a town this small and it always starts with a flaw…flaws like the Munson’s. Allen stole from everyone, conned everyone here scaring people into locking their doors and windows till he ended up in jail. Everything was fine till kids started getting murdered…till HE murdered them… He gets off and is set free…Pulls in a high member of societies son, one of his students…gets my son expelled…”

“What about Will Byers? What about the Hawkins Lab? What about the earthquake?!”, you shout, trying to step towards him but your protector won’t allow it. “You’re right, Jared. This town has flaws but it’s not people like Eddie. You can change the narrative to fit all you want but the flaw is people like you and Steve’s father. People who chased him down and tried to hurt him. People who can’t accept anyone that’s different!”

Martin’s father shook his head as he chuckled. 

“He’s got you brainwashed, little girl. Now, you are going to tell Hopper and the dean that you lied—”

“No.”

Jared took confident steps towards you, grabbing Theo and hitting him hard as the boy shouts for you to run. 

You don’t get very far as arms circle around you and lift you off the ground before you feel yourself suddenly falling sideways. 

You hear a grunt of pain before someone gets up to sprint away but a fast breeze whooshes past you as sneakers loudly hit the pavement. 

“Hey, look at me. Are you ok?”, Steve inquired as his palm ran down your hair and his eyes scanned your face. Your panicked irises flick towards Theo who begrudgingly took Martin’s extended hand to help him to his feet. “Y/N! Are you ok??”

“Yeah…yeah I’m…Where’s…?”

You both turned at the sounds coming from down the alley way and watch as Eddie delivers repeated blows to the man’s face. You quickly stand and wobble that way, catching your professor’s wrist as he raised his arm to hit him again. 

“Stop…Stop, Eddie, please…don’t…don’t let them win. We’re finally going to get out of here…and be happy…please.”

The metalhead grit his teeth as his shoulder’s deflated and you helped him up off the person beneath him just as Chief Hopper’s cruiser rounded the corner into the diner parking lot. 

***

Your mom exhales as she strides into the living room and tosses all the first aid supplies onto the coffee table. 

“Benefit of being married to a first responder. He always insisted we had stuff like this on standby. ‘You never know.’”, she mimed in a deep voice that had you smiling. 

Theo was the first to lean forward, grabbing the icepack and placing it on his cheek. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Theo, I’ve met you numerous times. You don’t have to be so formal.”, she sarcastically scolded as her eyes met yours before taking in both men on her couch. “Jesus Christ.”

Throwing her body down beside Steve, she grabbed the antiseptic and he winced as she began cleaning the cut on his face. 

“You have a lot of little scars, Mr. Harrington. How many times has someone hit you in the face?” His amber irises instantly snap her way. “Told you…married to a first responder…you pick up some things.”

“More than a few times…”

“Not by your asshole father right? Because I can talk to him if you—”

“No, no.”, he breathily laughs. “No. He would have had to have been there to interact with me at all, let alone…”

While they talked, you had begun to clean Eddie’s fingers and carefully wrap gauze around his knuckles. 

“You both saved my daughter again. Well three…I didn’t forget about you, Theodore.”, she praises and he scrunches his nose with a smile her way. “Thank you.”

Silently Eddie stood up and climbed the stairs turning into the first room he found with you following close behind. Steve closed the door behind you before flicking on a switch that illuminated the string of lights along the walls. 

“Is this your room?”

As soon as you nod, the coach starts exploring beaming at your posters of 90s celebrities along your wall and cassettes piled high with bands his partner had introduced him to. The desk by your window had a couple of scripts he assumed was from your high school days and notes on paper that had him craning his neck to read. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“What is that?”, he asks with a small smile as you yank the paper away. 

Rolling your eyes, you smack it into his chest before kneeling to grab something and taking a seat beside Eddie on your bed. 

“Colleges? But I thought…”

“They’re colleges I thought Eddie would like to work at.”, you mumble with a shrug, your words causing him to finally meet your gaze. “I wanted to help. I found a few that have a really good English program that you’d love and they aren’t too far from Steve or myself.”

The corner of his lips twitch slightly as if he’s about to smile so you take the opportunity to open the album you were holding in your hands and positioning it between you both. 

The metalhead’s chocolate irises take in the different photographs of you in high school with Steve at his side. The coach grinned when he saw you on the track outside the gym and pointed at an image of you with castmates dressed for the play you had just finished. 

Flipping to the next page, both men held their breath as your prom photo appeared with you in a gorgeous dress hugging your dates side. 

“Jesus Christ…you’re so beautiful.”, Steve murmurs.

“Thank you.”

A tear falls down Eddie’s cheek that he quickly wipes away but you see it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to kiss where it had been. 

“I almost killed him, Y/N.”, he whispers. “If you hadn’t been there to remind me that we’re almost out… it took all my energy… if he had hurt you…Hmm.” His lips form into a thin line as he hums, stopping himself from finishing his thought. 

“You protected me, Eddie. You and Steve.”

“But I almost became what they believe I am—”

“But you didn’t. Jared Click is the monster, Edward Munson, not you. I…” You pause to swallow the lump in your throat and he notices, craning his neck to face you. “I was scared of him…I’ve never once been afraid of you. You would never do what he just did.”

“Never, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait for us to get out of here.”

As he starts to sob, you pull him down onto your bed and hug his head to your chest while Steve curls up behind him, pressing his back to his chest. 

####################

One Year Later

“Alright, guys, good job!”, Steve claps, cheering on his team before checking his watch. “Ok, great practice. I want you guys to shower and head home. Enjoy Friday night and tomorrow we head for the semifinals.”

His team whoops excitedly and the man smiles as he starts to jog towards the university campus to get to his office. 

“Good work, Harrington.”, his assistant coach beamed as he tried to keep up. “Want to get a drink tonight to celebrate?”

“I wish I could, Mac, but I have a to go pick up Eddie for our date night tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Dinner and a movie?”

The man grins, swinging open his office door and taking the suit he brought with him off the hanger on his coat rack. 

“We’re actually seeing a play at NYU.”

“Yeah? That campus has some amazing productions and those actors are amazing. I’m never surprised when I hear some award winner got their degree there.” 

Steve’s smile widens as his eyes take in the photo on his desk of you, him, and Eddie making faces at the camera while you hold up the key to your new apartment in the city. 

“They’re doing something called Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf which I had never heard of till our…our girlfriend showed us the movie they made.” The coach blushes at his wording, loving the still foreign feeling of saying that word so freely. “She’s playing one of the leads.”

“Oh…Oh yeah? That’s phenomenal.”, the assistant coach stutters through, not wanting his technical boss and friend to feel uncomfortable. He knew Steve came from a small town and wanted him to know he was safe even though a relationship like his was a bit unorthodox. 

“Well, have fun and we’ll see you tomorrow!”

***

Eddie beams when Steve’s BMW skids into the faculty parking area as he shoves the papers he had been grading into the bag at his side.

“Baby, calm down. We still have an hour.”, the metalhead teases as his boyfriend greets him with a soft kiss before opening his passenger door for him. 

“I know but…”, he pauses as he jogs back around and climbs in. “With traffic and everything, I don’t want us to be late. Y/N’s been working extremely hard on this and—”

The professor’s lips on his cut him off and Steve’s shoulders visibly deflated as Eddie caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. 

“You’re doing that thing again.”, the long-haired man lightly scolds. “We’re fiiiiiiine, sweetheart.”

“I know. She’s just been working so hard on this and I know she’s nervous because this agent guy is going to be there. I want her to know we support her especially after everything she’s done for us.”

The metalhead nods, kissing him again as he intertwines his fingers with his own while the coach begins his short drive to your university.

“How was class today?”

“Oh my God, Steve, you have no idea how wonderful it is to be around students who are actually fucking interested in what I’m teaching and not my fucking background.”, he sighs happily. “Some of the kids noticed my D & D books in my office and asked me to host or sponsor or whatever a club for the school.”

“What? Honey, that’s fantastic! You have people you can be nerdy with.”

“Mhmm.”, Eddie chuckles, glancing out the window as the buildings slowly pass by. “I’m glad we came with her, Steve. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy… If we had let her go… God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Then don’t.”, the man murmurs softly as he raises his partner’s hand to his lips so he could kiss the back. “I’m glad we came with her to. I love being able to tell people you both are mine.”

Eddie leans his head on Steve’s shoulder and in return the coach kisses the top of his curls. 

“Yeah, me to.”

***

“Knock ‘em dead tonight, Janet. Can’t wait to see it for myself when I come visit you guys. Don’t be nervous! You’re an amazing actress. 

Your Rocky, 

Theo.

P.S. Ciara says break a leg!”

You smile at the letter attached to the flowers that were sent to your little dressing area after your play had concluded from your friend and his girlfriend back in Hawkins. 

You were thankful when he told you about her, not wanting to leave him in that small town by himself. 

“Hey, Y/N, you were excellent as always.”, your theater teacher praised as she came up behind you to give you a hug. “You should go see your boys. They won’t stop bragging about you to people they hear talking about your performance.”

You giggle as you grab your (Eddie’s) jacket and sling your duffle bag with your clothes from that day over your shoulder. As you sneak out the side exit, you’re immediately met with the sound of the metalhead’s voice. 

“Yeah, she was running her lines over and over for the past few months. I have no idea how she memorizes all that but, God, she’s brilliant.”

“And beautiful to. Y/N just shines out on that stage.”, Steve adds with a tooth filled smile. 

“Absolutely. I apologize but how do you know her again?”, the man they were speaking to asks and you smile as you scurry up to their little circle.

“They’re my boyfriends. This is Eddie Munson who teaches a literature class over at the community college down the street and Steve Harrington is the head football coach at the college near Columbia.” Both men nod and extend their hands as you introduce them. “And I’m, um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Guys, this is the…agent…I was telling you about.”

“Oh, please, I know exactly who you are and you can call me Arthur especially after the performance you just put on.”

“Thank you.”, you continue to grin as your nervous eyes flick their way. 

“We’re sorry for talking your ear off. We just…we’re very proud of her.”, Steve praises, pressing his fingers into his eyes however when Eddie quickly follows up with, “So, you’re going to sign her to your agency, right?”

The man in front of you laughs as the coach smacks his arm and reaches into his pocket to pull out a card. 

“Come to my office Monday morning and we’ll sort out some logistics. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I may actually have a roll you’d be perfect for. After I sign you to my agency that is.”

“Oh my god…Mr. Wilson…I mean Arthur…I…Thank you! Thank you so much!”, you exclaim as you take the card and jump into his arms. 

“Whoa! Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your weekend. You deserve it.”

The moment he walks away, you turn to meet their ecstatic faces as Eddie wraps his limbs around your waist and hugs you tightly. 

“Sweetheart, that’s fucking amazing. We’re so proud of you.”

“Very proud.”, Steve grins, pulling you into his embrace as soon as his partner lets you go. “You did so well up there tonight, honey.”

“I heard you both clapping for me.”

“Yeah because you were fucking awesome.”, the metalhead swoons, taking your hand in his. “Come on, baby. We’ve got a whole celebratory thing planned.”

#################

While you were staring out into the New York skyline from your spot at the table on the balcony of the top floor restaurant they had brought you to, Eddie and Steve were staring at you. 

The wind blew your hair in just the right way and even with the metalhead’s jacket keeping you warm, it didn’t hide the gorgeous spaghetti strap, olive green dress that accentuated all your gorgeous curves. 

“It’s so beautiful tonight.”, you happily sigh, turning to grab your champagne glass and realizing what they were focusing on. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”, Eddie compliments. “We were watching you up there on that stage and I thought… ‘Damn. That beautiful, talented, sexy, adorable woman…is ours.’”

Heat rises to your cheeks and both men chuckle lightly. 

“That right there has been my favorite part about being able to take you out on dates.”, Steve teases, pointing your way. “Seeing you get all shy and nervous like that.”

“Oh really, Harrington? Because you didn’t get all blushy on our first date or any dates after?”, the metalhead jokes, coming to your defense. 

“What was your first date?”

“Eddie was still kind of healing from being in the hospital and going through all the chaos with the legal system so I wanted to take him somewhere calming.”

“He took me to the observatory just outside of town.”

“Not because I was embarrassed or anything.”, the coach adds quickly. “It’s just cause Hawkins doesn’t have much to do and I didn’t want to do the normal ‘dinner and movie’”.

“We laid under the projection and just talked.”

“Did he make a move that night?”

“It’s Steve Harrington, baby, of course he made a move.”, Eddie laughed making his boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Look, we almost died!”, the man defends before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing his glass. “I didn’t want to waste any more time not being with you.”

The metalhead smiles as he takes his partners hand and yanks him closer to softly kiss his lips. 

“Oh. I got you guys something. Well…it’s for all of us but…” Your words stumble out as you reach for your bag and dig inside, pausing to face them before hugging it to your chest. “So…I, um, ever since you guys told me about…you know…Vecna and everything…I’ve always thought about how much you two have been there for me…like truly been there…even before I met you.”

Their irises soften as they listen to you continue and the metalhead reaches out under the table to place his hand on your knee hoping to calm your nerves as you try to get your words out. 

“You two spent 10 years standing watch over an entire town to keep those assholes safe, you protected me from Martin and his father, and even here in New York I know you’re always watching out for me. I, um, I know you two knew each other before you met me and were together for much longer, but, um…”

“Honey, what are you trying to say?”, Steve asks, his own nerves starting to bubble in his stomach. 

“You know even though we were together before we met you, it doesn’t change how much we love you, right?”

“I know, Eddie, baby. I know. I just…” Reaching inside your purse, you produce a little rectangular box and place it on the table in front of them. “I know that if you two could have gotten married long ago you would have. Now if three people could get married, you’d do that to…I just…we’ve been here for a year and together for almost two and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

At your last sentence, the coach leaned across the table to take the box in his hand and slowly open it to show his partner the three black rings with gold lining the inside. A little smirk flickers on the long-haired man’s face as he pulls the one that’s nestled in the middle out of its place. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you asking us to marry you?” You cover your face in embarrassment as they try to contain their laughter at your cuteness. “No, no, baby. Come on. Continue.”

“I’m trying to say…! That if I could marry you…I would…and I wanted to show you guys that while saying thank you…for keeping me safe for all those years.”

Eddie grins as he nods, suddenly sliding down on one knee and taking your hand in his. 

“I’d die for you, princess, if it meant protecting you.”, he murmured, pushing the ring on to your finger and kissing the back of your hand before removing one of his to replace it with the one you got him. When he tries to guide his skeleton ring on your thumb, it easily slides off being too big for your hand.

Steve pats his shoulder, replacing his partners spot on his knee in front of you, and invades your space to unclasp the necklace around you, tenderly kissing your cheek as he does so. You and Eddie watch as he slides his boyfriend’s ring onto the chain before removing his college class ring to add to it.

Once the metalhead has it firmly attached to you once more, your palm touches the warm jewelry pressing it to your chest.

“You don’t know how much this means to us.”, he whispers, pushing his new ring onto his finger and taking your free hand in his. “You always talk about us saving you but, baby, you saved us. Thank you.”

You tilt towards him to kiss his lips and he lifts you out of your chair to hug you tightly. 

“I’d marry you both in a heartbeat.”

As soon as he sets you down, Eddie takes you into his arms and threads his fingers through your hair. 

“I’d marry you both to.”, he confesses, kissing the top of your head. “Then we could fly somewhere awesome for a honeymoon.”

Both men smile when you laugh. 

“Who says we need to fly anywhere for a honeymoon?”

***

Steve’s breaths heat your lips as he pants heavily above you pushed up on his palms as he steadily but firmly thrusts his hips, his eyes never straying from yours as he continues to build you towards another orgasm. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck. You look so sexy like this.”, Eddie whispered in your ear from his place on the living room floor beside you, his arm laying loosely across your sweaty chest as his thumb caressed your temple. “You said this was our honeymoon so you have to give us another one, sweetheart.”

Your eyes close as your head turns allowing you to be nose to nose with him and he hungerly kisses your lips. 

“If you cum again, we’ll let you take a break and you can watch Mr. Harrington fuck me.” At his murmured words, you loudly moaned as Steve’s head hung and he picked up his rhythm, slamming his cock roughly into your cunt. “Yeah? You’d like that? Fuck such a dirty girl. Still that little slut we met, right?”

“Ohma…God…”

“Still our slut.” Your eyebrows furrowed as Eddie’s fingers curled in your hair, holding your forehead to his as he watched you come undone. Your body shook as you whimpered, your pussy quivering around the man inside you who continued to fuck you through it. “Good girl. Very good. You’re alright, baby. Take a little break. Do you need water?”

“No…no, Sir. I’m…M’ok.”

Steve practically growled as he pulled out of you to climb on top of his partner, grabbing his hips and lifting him up onto his knees. Rolling onto your side, you smile with half lidded eyes as you watch the metalhead groan loudly as the coach shoves his tongue into his entrance. Eddie’s forehead presses to the floor as one of his arms reach between his legs to lazily stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuck, I love your mouth, pretty boy.”

It surprised even you how fast Steve hovers over him, his chest pressed to his back as he grabs his hair and yanks it back. 

“Who am I?”, he grunts, the long-haired boy smiling defiantly as his boyfriend grinds his dick along his behind. “Who am I in here?”

“Mr. Harrington…fuck, baby…”

With his free hand, Steve grasped his cock and they both mewled as he carefully guided himself into the man beneath him. 

“That’s right.”, he breathed, his palm wrapping around his throat as he placed a kiss on his shoulder. “That’s fucking right. Open your eyes, little boy and k-keep them on her.”

When he does what he’s told, your lips meet his as the coach pushes himself up fully onto his knees and sets a rough pace while pounding his cock deep into the man he loves. 

“Shit…you’re just as much of a slut as she is…aren’t you?” When all Eddie does is nod, Steve spanks him hard. “Answer me.”

“I’m just as much—mmm—of a slut as she is.”

“As who?”

“Our girl.”

At his words, Steve grunted with approval as he chased his high desperate for a release after feeling you cum around him. Your hand slid under your former professor and wrapped around his length to stroke him. 

His eyes that had been glued to you, abruptly darkened.

“After he fills me up, Y/N, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore tomorrow. Everyone at his game w-will be looking at you and they’ll know…They’ll know you’re taken care of.” 

While Eddie spoke Steve’s pace had quickened to the point that the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the apartment. A strangled moan left his lips as he fell flat against his partner pushing him fully against the ground and rolled his hips as he came; his fingers intertwining with Eddie’s as he panted into his tussled head of hair. 

You delicately patted his sweaty shoulder and without you saying a word, he fell to the side of the metalhead who didn’t waste a moment, scaling your body and lifting your legs around his waist before guiding himself into your sore and swollen heat. 

True to his word, he set an aggressive rhythm causing both of you to emit repeated ahs while his lips attached to your neck. You clung to his back as he sucked a mark into your skin, soothing it with his tongue while your pussy clenched tightly around him. 

“Please…please, Mr. Munson…I wanna…”

“Tell me.”

“I want to…feel you…cum.”

“I’ll—fuck—I’ll cum when you do.” You shake your head and he grumbles roughly, gripping your throat as his angry eyes meet yours. “I wasn’t asking, Y/N. I’ll give you my cum when your pussy is fucking begging me for it.”

Your legs started to fall as your back arched but his other palm hastily grabbed one of your thighs to keep at least one in place as your body began to tremble. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, g-give it to me.”

Collapsing on top of you, Eddie fully incased you in his warmth as your nails ran up his back to cling to his shoulders. Your orgasm washed over you like a freight train while you continuously garbled his name into the nook of his neck. As your core continued to quiver around him, you felt his momentum stutter before his release painted your walls. 

“Ow, ow…”, you whimper as he tries to delicately pull out of you. 

“I know, I know, baby. There we go…Good girl. Come on, let’s go take a bath.”

“I got her, honey. You go on ahead; the water’s already running.”, Steve coos in a soft voice as he helps the man he loves to his feet.

“Hey, maybe I need to be coddled to, mister.”

You smile as the coach smirks, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and following his boyfriend into the bathroom. After you kiss his cheek, he places you on the edge of the tub and lifts Eddie bridal style eliciting a small, surprised squeak from the professor.

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“Mhmm. Do you need anything, my love? Water or some ice before we clean you both?”

Eddie theatrically sighs, throwing his head back as he whines, “Noooo, sire. I think I shall be ok but the princess and I will require a kiss or two.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve kisses his lips and lowers him carefully down in the warm, steamy water in front of where you had placed yourself before moving over to kiss you as well. Reaching behind him on the banister, the metalhead grabbed his pack of cigarettes and flashed them towards you, silently asking you if it was alright which you nod. 

“Fuck, man. It’s going to be snowing within a month or so I bet.”, Eddie relays after opening the nearby window and lighting the stick between his fingers. 

Hearing you hiss, his head immediately turns your way to see you grabbing the other man’s wrist as he cleaned between your legs. 

“Sorry. Hurts.”

Steve nods, kissing your temple as he murmurs into your ear, continuing to clean you as you hold his forearm to ground you. 

After blowing smoke out the window, the metalhead lightly grips your chin and tilts forward to softly kiss your lips. 

“I remember that first night, you winced like that and grabbed my wrist. You looked so small… I knew then I wanted to take care of you.”

“Oh? Is that why you two talked about being afraid to be with me?”, you tease causing both men to exchange a look. “I was drifting in and out so I only heard parts of it. Something about cake and me not wanting to be seen with ‘old men’.”

Eddie narrows his eyes your way but Steve’s palm tenderly reaching to clean him blindsides him slightly as he turns to face him and is met with his lips. 

“Some of the wording is mushed together but…”, he chuckles, their foreheads leaning against each other. “Eddie was afraid of the career aspect as well as our stupid little town. I thought maybe you’d wake up and realize you wanted more than a small-town life hidden away with bitter coach and professor.”

“I don’t get a negative adjective to?”, the metalhead jokes. “Former fugitive, pariah, trailer trash demon worshipper?”

“Stop.”, she growled a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “I never saw you that way.”

“And I never saw you as bitter.”

“Me neither. I never saw you both as ‘old men’ either. I just saw you as…mine.”, you shrug as your tone drops a bit. “That’s why what you said to me hurt so much but I never wanted to make things complicated.”

“Can’t really do that in our relationship can we, baby?”, Steve coos softly, standing to his feet so he can carefully lift you out of the tub and dry you off. “Alright, wait here while I go get the other baby.”

You giggle as you watch him from your bed swivel around to hurry towards Eddie who had already begun getting out of the water before the coach quickly wraps a towel around him and picks him up in his strong arms. 

“We saw you that way to.”, the metalhead adds as he pulls you to his side. “Ours.”

“I know. I heard you one day after rehearsal talking about how you wanted to spank me because of Theo even though YOU pushed me away—”

“Jesus, just a little eavesdropper, huh, Munson. Sounds like there’s a few punishments that need to be doled out.”

You smirk as he tugs one of his track shirts over your head and slides Eddie’s boxers up your legs. 

“Did you just interrupt me?”

Steve beams wide showing off all his teeth as he places his arms around your hips. 

“What are you going to do about it?” You bite your bottom lip before tilting to kiss his. “Did you need ice or anything?”

“Not right now, Mr. Harrington, thank you.”

Turning to focus on Eddie, he can’t help but roll his eyes as his partner bats his lashes his way. 

“Do you need ice or some water, honey?”

“No, Mr. Harrington, I’m all set.”, he teases in a high pitch voice, lightly mocking you while Steve pulls another pair of boxers up his legs. 

Just as he did with you, the coach circled his arms around the long-haired boy’s hips but leaned towards his tummy to place a soft kiss along his scars that has his features faltering slightly. 

“Thank you for always being there, Eddie. I love that now I can show you both off and I don’t have to hide how much I love you.”

Smiling, the man circles his limbs around his neck and kisses his cheek. 

“I love you to…but God why are you so obsessed with me.” After pushing his partner away, the metalhead focuses on you while Steve goes on the hunt for some shorts. “I love you to, baby. I agree with him. I’m glad we can show you off and take you on dates like tonight. Tomorrow you’re going to sit right next to me and I’m going to hold your hand all night. Or get handsy if you wear one of those sexy skirts. I’m only human.”

You laugh at his joke as you fall back against the pillows and pull him on top of you. Your fingers trace his cheek to his lips and he softly grins before laying down to rest his head below your chin. 

Steve comes out of the bathroom, pausing when he notices you both laying this way with your hand tenderly petting his partner’s curls. After turning off the lights, he climbs in beside you and brings the covers up over you three. 

“I’ve always loved how soft you are with him. Not that I’m not but…”, he whispers, kissing your shoulder as he pulls you both closer to his chest. “Thank you, Y/N, for being you.”

You smile at his groggy tone as your eyes watch him fall asleep. Eddie had already beat him to it, his steady breathing signally to you he was out. Since moving out of Hawkins, they both seemed at peace, not just out in the world but as they slept. 

Those first couple of months they did struggle; Eddie waking up screaming about someone taking you and Steve bolting upright to glare out the window to make sure “the sky isn’t red”. Slowly, the tossing and turning stopped followed by the nightmares. The first night they both slept peacefully, they woke up with bright eyes and a jovial energy, throwing some clothes on you so you three could get out to explore the city. 

They ate more, smiled more, and even opened up more than they thought possible. You were so thankful that you could experience this with them and see them grow after being stifled by a town that didn’t appreciate them. 

After a year so much had changed for the better and you couldn’t imagine what your future held. All you knew was as long as you with them, you were safe and happy.  

###############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @myherometalhead  @debkk16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover @strangerthingsfangirling

@1deverland @checosbluespring @twirls827

[pussmonger]

soo… how was your first time with Al? 👀

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

Smth I think about sometimes is how like, I do so much stuff to overcompensate my struggles with various things, but generally I don’t acknowledge that I’m doing outside things to overcompensate or if I do I don’t get into specifics.

And then because of that like even if I tell people I’m struggling with x thing they just won’t believe me sometimes coz they didn’t see/listen to me doing work on my own time.

Even if I’m already underperforming they won’t understand how much effort it was taking JUST TO UNDERPERFORM.

But then if I make any progress or aren’t the literal worst it’s all swept under the rug as if it’s easy for me and I just wasn’t working hard enough the whole time or something?

[sweetinsaniiity]

Closer To The Edge

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - sexworker!Wooyoung x fashiondesigner!reader ◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - slow burn, eat the rich, Wooyoung really dislikes wealthy people, heavy angst, slice of life, emotionally heavy, existential crisis, reader! is desperate and lonely, power imbalance, eventual smut (more lovemaking than anything really), star-crossed lovers, eventual reunion, open/ambiguous but happy ending ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!! depression, connotations and talks of self-harm (not described, but be warned!), sex work/prostitution (consensual and not forced, but I just thought I’d put it here just in case), smut, lots of kissing, fingering, cowgirl, cumshot, no protection (do not do this!) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 26.5K words ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You've always led a very lonely and unfulfilled life where you were always alone. This isolation gets worse when you were sent into a remote office branch temporarily for a project. It wasn't until you met Jung Wooyoung, who you didn't know at first was a sex worker, and your fleeting encounter with him that changed the trajectory of your life and your views forever. It all starts when he found you one night on a rooftop. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - I haven't written Wooyoung in a while, and I also haven't written anything simple, but extremely angsty, in a hot minute, as well. I figured I'd combine them both here. Personally cried while writing this. Enjoy! Title from 30 Seconds To Mars.◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou ◄

You didn’t choose to live like this, didn’t choose to lead the melancholic and mundane life where you were all alone with nobody to lean on or trust to catch you if you fell - which was always and never.

But there you were, looking wistfully outside and taking in the scenario as the train you sat on rumbled on. It served to prove your point; you were also alone in the private cabin your work company had provided for you when they decided at the last minute to send you to another city that was literally situated on the opposite side of the country.

It wasn’t a difficult decision for you, after all, you really did want to advance in your career, but the sting of being alone just always caught on to you. Your co-workers were all pleasant and amicable, but they all had lives to lead. As for you, you were there to work, not to mingle. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t afford to wallow too much in your pity. You knew to yourself that this was a you problem. 

The train rolled to a stop and you got down with just a light luggage. People began to disembark with you, and one by one, they disappeared into the arms of their loved ones, voices rising with giggles and promises of catching up with one another. It was a painful reminder of what you did not have.

You smiled morosely. Indeed, you were no stranger to being alone, but that never meant that you liked being alone.

You were only human, after all. You craved the companionship, the intimacy, the late summer nights by the campfire roasting marshmallows in an open fire with someone, the drunken adventures that led to trouble and something to laugh out with friends, and the days where all you needed was a comforting presence.

You had to look away. You had to cut off that sinking, ugly feeling rising up in your chest called longing. You could not want what you could not have. This would be a hellish three months for you. 

The house you’d be staying at was a lot bigger than you thought, and a lot more luxurious even on the outside. It checks out, you thought. You did work at the biggest and most-well known fashion industry company as a director, after all.

You didn’t bother to explore, you had time for that, but you could tell that the interior was already suited to your tastes. It was bigger than you’d like. You didn’t mind it at all. All in all, the stay wasn’t going to be too bad. However, you have to start working as soon as possible. Even though you hated it and wanted to avoid it as long as you possibly could.

You loved your job, you really did. Being a director meant you had certain privileges that only you could exercise, but sometimes, you felt used.

Subject: Runway Project Help I hope this email finds you well, Y/N. The initial report is to be finalized by the end of the week. The resources you will utilize have all been provided for your leisure.

A humourless laugh heaves upon your chest at the callousness in which that email had sounded. Straight to the point, not even an attempt to ask if you had safe travel. 

You were aware that it wasn’t personal. You were one of the people that worked for something bigger; the one that made the rich even richer. Still, the lack of encouragement, follow-ups, questions about your well-being stung more than you’d like to admit.

It was just business. Just numbers on a report, a deadline to meet. You reached for your mouse, clicked the ‘reply’ button, and typed a simple acknowledgment. Subject: Re: Runway Project Help I will have it at your disposal within the desired time.

Before you could shut your laptop close, another email pops up from the other side of your screen. Begrudgingly, you clicked it, and the moment you do, regret fills your chest.

You shouldn’t have read it. You had totally forgotten that there was a company dinner to welcome the other employees who have travelled from other branches to help out the newly opened branch, such as yourself.

Disgruntled, you forced yourself to put on a decent outfit, not even bothering to accessorize that much, and you hailed a cab to the venue. The drive was only ten minutes away, but it felt like a lifetime of overthinking on your end. You didn’t even bother researching beforehand where you were heading, the intention was to come, mingle, and go.

It turned out to be a hotel, a fancy one fitting of your company’s reputation. You already felt sick as you began to walk to the front desk area. From where you were, you could already see a variety of people huddling to socialize, and you knew then and there that this would be a bore. You felt like you were going to get sick. You didn’t belong here.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your attention was caught by a deep and gruff voice from behind you. He was tall, effortlessly stylish, with a crisp black jacket that hugged his frame just right . His dark hair was immaculately styled, and his posture was confident. "Mingi?" You asked in surprise that you had actually seen him. “Song Mingi?”

His eyes lit up with remembrance, his lips spreading into a friendly smile. "The one and only." 

You whispered a small thanks to the receptionist before following Mingi into one of the function halls. “Looks great, Director Song,” you complimented as you looked around. “Well done with the theme…”

Mingi was one of the interns sent to your branch for training a couple of years back. He was a fresh-faced kid back then, not knowing how brutal the fashion world was, but you could tell he was passionate about it, unlike his superiors who were in it for the cash.

Before Mingi could reply, a group of people started to make their way towards you. A suppressed groan sounds from the back of your throat, drowned out by the chatter. You knew these people, in fact, you knew virtually everybody in attendance today, and you weren’t interested in what they had to say.

“Oh my, Director L/N sure is a gem in the industry,” one of the people perked up, making the people around you nod in agreement.

“I suppose so, yes,,” you let out, jaw locked with tension. You might be a loner, but you weren’t oblivious to hypocrites when you encountered them.

Either these people were plain stupid, or they’re just ignoring the fact that you were clearly uninterested and disengaged. Thankfully, the speakers overhead blare up, instructing everyone to take their seats to get started. 

It was the most boring and uncomfortable time of your life, and that was saying a lot. You ran your fingers over the edge of your complimentary champagne flute, watching the alcohol slosh around inside. It looked like sweet nectar, but it tasted like disappointment.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could slip away quietly, slip into the night like a shadow. No one would care. “Excuse me,” you placed your hand on Mingi’s arm to get his attention, your voice firm despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He looked at you worried, but nodded anyway.

Without waiting for a response, you got up and  turned, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. You could see people watching and eyeing your every move, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t stand the environment you were in.

As you reached the door and stepped out, you allowed yourself a small, triumphant smile. You didn’t know where to go from here, but at least you were out of there.

With a sigh, you began to walk aimlessly to nowhere in particular. Come to think of it, you didn’t mind exploring the hotel. Despite your initial inhibitions, you actually did think that the venue was really pretty. 

And it was that aimless walking that led you to trouble. Just as you were about to make a sharp left turn to the lobby, a sudden collision jolted you out of your thoughts. You hastily tried to maintain your balance as you accidentally bumped into someone. “I’m sor—”

“Watch where you’re going,” the man you stumbled on hissed, his face twisted in annoyance as he also tried to gain his balance back.

You were taken aback at the vehemence in his voice. It was as if you had dangled this man’s puppy by its foot and shot it point blank in front of him. You didn’t know what to do, so you tried to apologize once more.

“I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to bump into you,” you spoke up, trying to sound as sincere as possible to appease him. “It was purely accidental on my end, I understand that’s bothersome.”

He harrumphed obnoxiously, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you up and down in contempt as he tried to collect himself. It was so uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of whatever this was. “Typical,” he scoffed. “The types of you always seem to be too busy to look where you’re going most of the time.”

What the hell did that even mean? You blinked owlishly, temporarily rendered speechless at whatever you just heard. “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” his voice dripped with disdain before it dropped into a quiet grumble. “Jesus, do rich people get away with shit like this on an everyday basis? Unbelievable…”

You froze. Rich people? Is that what this was about? Still, that didn’t make any lick of sense. You understood where he was coming from - even though you picked your most minimal outfit, it was painfully obvious that you were decked out in clothes that the regular consumer couldn’t buy on an everyday basis.  But that stung, though, because you designed these, yourself. 

“I-I'm really sorry. It was an accident,” you reiterated, trying to keep your voice steady, but this man just wouldn’t give you a break.

“Sure, it was,” he said sarcastically. "Maybe if you spent less time with your head in the clouds and more time assessing the people around you, you'd be less of a problem."

You were, once again, taken aback by the hostility. Your pulse quickened, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. You had simply wanted to leave that suffocating event. But, despite this guy’s clear distaste for the wealthy, you were inclined to agree. You had enough clientele in your career to attest and support his claims, but still.

“I don’t think the punishment is befitting of the crime,” you frowned, an unspoken connotation that referred to how mean he was being to you and you didn’t appreciate it. 

He scoffed again, though this time it was more of a weak exhale and it held less weight in it. He shifted his feet to start walking forward, but he paused, his face holding a small grimace, clearly not meaning for you to see that.

It hit you then and there. The exhaustion in his eyes was undeniable, as though every word he said drained him more than he cared to admit. His body was swaying unnaturally as he stood in front of you, and you bumping into him must have exacerbated whatever he was already going through.

He wasn’t just angry at you; he was angry at everything. Maybe it wasn’t about you at all. Maybe it was just about his own tiredness, his own frustration with the world around him. Against your better judgment, you opened your mouth. “You look tired,” you said  gently. “It’s been a long night, hasn’t it?”

His expression faltered in surprise, only for a second, before he quickly masked it with a scowl. “That’s none of your business,” he muttered, but the anger in his voice was quieter now.

You didn’t reply. There was no need for further words; you understood to a certain extent what he was feeling and he knew that you weren’t going to relent.

You mustered up a small nod, a finality, as you turned around to leave, but not before glancing back at the man once more. “Good night, I hope you feel better.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was going to say something nor did you stay to hear if he was. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but take in his features, imagine them without the scowl that overtook his face.

Being in fashion allowed you to see physical features in depth. He was young, looked about to be your age. His features were a delicate harmony of sharp angles and soft curves, his eyes, dark and intense, were very reminiscent of an angry fox. You reckoned that his fox-eyes would look marvelous had he been smiling.

You shook your head, continuing to walk towards the direction you intended to in the first place. You had no idea where it led, but you didn’t really care anymore. You just needed to walk that experience off.

But that was before you realized that it was restaurant, a nice looking one. As if on cue, your stomach started rumbling. The function provided dinner, but there was no way you were going back in there.

It was nicer on the inside than the outside. However, you were a bit surprised to find the entire place empty, the tables all wiped clean with the corresponding velvet seats tucked in, save for one, lone waiter who was on their way to approach you.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he began to apologize profusely, bowing slightly to emphasize his point.  “We had just closed the daily restaurant to get ready for our overnight bar.”

“Oh,” you faltered, resisting the urge to deflate on the spot at the information.

The disappointment must have been apparent on your face. The waiter perked up to get your attention, clearing his throat. “Would you like to get a table or sit by the bar to wait for the opening? I reckon we’d be able to do so in less than thirty minutes.”

“A-Are you sure?”

He gives you a shrug in response. “It’s just me for now, anyway.”

The next thing you knew, he was beckoning you over with a small wave of his hand. You chose to sit by the furthest corner of the bar, thanking him with a small whisper that carried the biggest gratitude you could offer for tonight.

You were getting a bit dizzy, when was the last time you ate? It didn’t matter now, a drink or two - or maybe, ten - was what you currently needed.

As if on cue, the distinct clinking of glass sounds from your ear and the familiar slide of it nears your direction. It was a strawberry fizz, you reckoned, the mixture of said fruit and vodka with a hint of tang in it wafting up your nose.

You frowned, looking up at the bartender in palpable confusion. “It’s not much, it was the only thing I could make given my time constraint,” says the waiter, who was apparently also a bartender,  who shrugged in nonchalance.

“Uhm, thank you. I would have been fine waiting, me sitting here was enough of a bother for you,” you softly replied. You took the cocktail, sipped on it, your face lifting up in a pleasant surprise. “It’s good, but why?”

“You looked like you needed it,” he said. His voice was calm, like the sound of rain against a window. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house.”

Maybe you really did look that downtrodden. Shame started creeping up your cheeks, the fact that you were obvious even to someone who you haven’t even been around for more than five minutes was very telling on your end.

He leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and tilted his head toward the stairs. “The rooftop’s empty tonight,” he said casually. “Good place to clear your head.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t say anything else. Just wiped down the counter like he hadn’t just handed you an escape. It was a no-brainer -  the open air, the city stretching out beneath, the weight of your thoughts carried away by the wind. Without a word, you stood, drink in hand, and made your way to the stairs.

Indeed, the rooftop was remarkable, by far the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen in a while. The stars were twinkling bright tonight, and you were one of the only specks in the world that have been blessed to stare at their beauty all night long. Though, you had a feeling that people aren’t to stare at the stars.

You liked it much better up here. Not a single person to be seen, noise drowned out by sheer distance. This is what you wanted. Distance. To be away. To be gone. And then, before you could stop it, your chest tightened. Tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the beautiful glitter of the stars above the skyline. You covered your mouth to quiet your sobs, but the rooftop was empty and there was nobody to hear your distress.

You felt pathetic. It was everything bottled up inside you - the lonely train ride, the empty house you’d be residing at for three straight months, your stuck-up supervisor who sent you to this God-awful place knowing that nothing and nobody was going to hold you back, and the people you left at the function being happy while you were by the rooftop railing bawling  your eyes out.

It was everything. You didn’t know how long you were there for, the cocktail long forgotten on a random table somewhere while you leaned towards the railing, just taking in the wind while more tears flowed from your eyes. 

You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the metal. As you did, you realized that there was an extra step you could take to get closer to the edge. And so you did. It was a risky position, but everything looked much different up where you were. Your tears lose themselves to the breeze. The city sprawled beneath you, indifferent, endless. This was a distraction, nothing more.

“Hello?”

The thought wasn’t even dramatic, nor was it frightening for you. It was just there. And for a moment, the weight inside you lessened.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know that’s fucking dangerous?”

Maybe you could run away. You had enough money to literally start over anywhere you wanted. You could take an extended vacation, and even if you never worked again, you’d have a good chunk of money still left. The thought of it made more tears in your eyes.

“Hey!”

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice that cracked through the air. Your hand darted out, gripping the edge of the rooftop to steady yourself. “What,” you flatly said, not bothering to turn around, mostly because you still felt slightly disconnected from reality.

“I think you should step away from the railing,” they said. 

You hummed, annoyed. That voice sounded awfully familiar. “I think you should stop telling me what to do,” you replied sarcastically.

There wasn’t a reply for a second, only the shuffling of shoes and the creak of a closing door. “I just think it’s a very risky position you’re in,” he clicked his tongue. “It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, almost laughing, though it came out more like a sigh. “What, can’t a girl admire the view without being criticized now?”

“Cut the crap. You didn’t come here for the view.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You obviously came from that godforsaken party in the hall down the lobby. Why aren’t you down there having the time of your life?”

Your death grip loosens from the railing. You turned sharply, breath uneven, ready to mouth off to whoever was behind you, and you were faced with the last person you ever expected to see in a setting like this.

It was the attractive, fox-eyed man you had bumped into earlier. His face was calm, devoid of any panic at seeing you so close to the edge of the rooftop. He didn’t lunge toward you, didn’t bark orders or plead. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was such a contrast from his scowl when you encountered him.

“That’s none of your business,” you gritted your teeth angrily, more tears starting to form in your eyes, looking up to stop them from falling. “I don’t need to hear how snooty my kind of people are from you. Earlier was enough.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t push. Just stayed. “So, what are you doing here, then?”

“Does it really even matter why?” You snapped, your pulse slamming against your ribs, anger flaring before you could stop it. “I don’t want to be there.”

He shrugged, his observing eyes not leaving yours. “Alright, that’s fair.”

You wanted to scoff, but all you did was avoid eye contact, looking back to your sides to hopefully catch anything but his eyes. “That’s it? You’re not going to ask for more?”

He exhaled, the sound barely audible over the wind. “No,” he said. “Not my place, though I can’t say I’m not curious.”

You raised your brows ever so slightly. You obviously didn’t know this man, but based on the minute encounter you’ve had with him, this seems to be on par with his personality. There were no lectures, no false concern, no sweet nothings to convince you otherwise.

He shifts his foot, his hand slipping in his pocket to retrieve what seemed to be a small packet of cigarette. “Listen, I don’t smoke, not at all,” he said casually. “But there’s a first time for everything. You either do it downstairs with me, or I could stay here with you until you’re done being dramatic.”

That should have made you mad, the way he said was so callous and indifferent, but instead, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. You liked this, you decided. Slowly, you stepped off from the edge and chose to sit down on the concrete below it, instead, your back leaning against it, not caring if your dress got dirty.

Certainly not caring at how he would’ve been annoyed had you not listened and how his face softens a little bit, the most miniscule of emotions peeking through at the sight of your tired body and your teary eyes.

Without waiting for your response, he sits down next to you, plopping his ass so close to you that your knees touch each other. He waves the packet of cigarettes in front of you. “Here, take one. Hell, take them all. A friend gave them to me.”

You shook your head, pushing them back. “I stopped.”

“Wonderful,” he hummed. The next thing you knew, he threw the whole packet away, off of the rooftop, to never be seen forever. He only raised a brow at your flabbergasted face. “I wasn’t going to give you one, anyway. Just wanted you to get down.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t say anything. The both of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, just the two of you there, each caught in your own thoughts. There was something in the air that kept you from feeling entirely alone.

“I don’t know what you were assuming, but I wasn’t going to jump,” you mumbled after realizing that that’s what it must’ve looked like from his perspective. “I genuinely just wanted to enjoy the view.”

His expression was still unreadable. “I know,” he raised a brow, side-eyeing you for good measure. “You don’t look like you have what it takes. No guts.”

You scoffed, not knowing if you wanted to be amused or be offended at his dig towards you. One thing was for sure, though - whatever he did, it was an effective way to get you out of your head without making you feel worse. You sniffled, embarrassingly so, before you decided to change the topic so as to not make it awkward for the both of you. “Are you here for a drink, too, or something?” 

“No,” he replied. “Yunho’s a great friend of mine. Said something about giving this sad girl a fruity ass drink and was worried that you were taking forever to come back downstairs.”

You scoffed, you didn’t even realize that you spent so long in here that the bartender had even noticed your extended absence. He stared at you, watching your expression, before he let out a small chuckle. “I guess you really did need that drink,” he expressed.

You narrowed your eyes, feeling annoyance creeping up your chest at his tone. “You think you’re funny? I’m fine.”

He titled his head towards you. “Your tears are telling me otherwise.”

Your jaw tightened, fingers twitching at your side. You hadn’t even realized you were still crying until he pointed it out, and somehow, that only made the frustration burn hotter in your chest. “Is this a thing of yours? Judging everything you see at first sight?”

Suddenly, he frowns. “Look, if this is about earlier, I do admit that the things I said were way out of line.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “What an inspiring apology.”

“I’m not apologizing,” his tone was blunt, almost irritated, like he didn’t want to be having this conversation in the first place. “Nothing personal.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Still,” he sighed, “It doesn’t feel right leaving someone up here looking like they might just let the wind take them.” You rolled your eyes at that. “And I’m not an ass. Not entirely, anyway.”

“I told you,” you let out a frustrated sound from the back of your throat. “I just really needed air. Been a shitty day for me, is all.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

You weren’t even surprised at the casualness of his voice anymore. He sounded almost careless, like he wasn’t used to talking to people like he was doing right now. Still, you were perplexed when he asked. “Personal crap, especially work, the usual suspects,” you shrugged, cryptic as possible. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t used to talking about certain things. “So, do you work here?”

He peers at you. “Something like that. Occasionally, yeah. Usually, I do drink here but my mood was kinda ruined when someone bumped into me earlier.”

Well, two can play this game of being cryptic about work. You narrowed your eyes, but before you could respond, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, tell me what’s up with work, then. Might make you feel better to talk about them.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He stared at you dead in the eye. His fox-shaped eyes looked so intense that for a second, you faltered. “Try me,” he deadpanned.

You had nothing against this man, but you were still wary. He was a stranger, after all. “I did come from that party down the hall. I, uhm, it was just suffocating,“ you said carefully.

“Interesting. I thought those bullshit events are supposed to be fun and all. All the dickheads that come out of there always brag about them,” he murmured. You raised a brow in question. “There’s a huge ass banner above the hall,” he explained. “Not social, I suppose?”

You took a second to think. “No,” you admitted. “Not really.”

“Then why the hell are you even there, then?” He raised a brow sarcastically.

“Because that’s kind of my job? I don’t know how else to tell you,” you frowned, though you couldn’t argue back with that one since you do get his vision. You didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t that simple.

He begins to shake his head as if disbelieving the things that were coming out of your mouth. If you were a douchebag, to be crass, you would’ve socked his pretty face immediately. He was lucky that it was you he was encountering. Or maybe someone else has already done it. Fox-eyes to you was such an interesting character.

“That can’t be it,” he scoffed. “You’re telling me that you were crying because you can’t put your big girl pants on and suck it up?”

You blinked owlishly at his bluntness, but he wasn’t finished. “So fucking quit then,” he chuckled sarcastically. Then, he mumbles something under his breath, something you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I swear you rich people always have something to cry about.”

It was definitely a stark reminder of the things he had told you earlier when you bumped into him. You understood him, you really did, because things like those never come out of nowhere. You were positive that he probably experienced something that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You wouldn’t understand, then,” you shook your head.

Just then, he laughed. That caught you more off guard than anything he’s done so far tonight, if you were being frank. You have to admit, he had a very pretty laugh, sure it was a little bit pitchy and squeaky than you’d like, but for some reason, it did suit him.

“You’re right, I won’t, and to be completely frank with you, I don’t want to. I wish I had your problems because I know I won’t be such a pussy about it,” he sighed, long and hard. “But you’re the one moping right now, not me. I can’t stand people like you, but lay it on me, anyway.”

And he was very crass, too. Such a contrast from the overly respectful and polite environment you were used to. It was very refreshing, regardless of his mean and underhanded comments. One thing you absolutely detested was false positivity, and this man was able to provide you the opposite in less than thirty minutes of you knowing him. 

There was absolutely no sympathy in his tone, none at all, and in a way, you liked it that way. You didn’t need sympathy. It suddenly dawns on you why - it all came down on the supposed wealth he thought you had. You lived in luxury, and you got everything you wished for immediately, so to him, that must mean that you had no reasons to be down.

“My job sucks,” you muttered, half to yourself. “It’s just miserable. I’m required to be in the presence of people I don’t care about to make a profit with their money that I won’t even get to touch and impress some big kahuna I don’t even care about.”

He hummed, nodding his head to indicate that he was listening. “So, an existential crisis disguised as work complaints?”

You snorted. “I suppose so, yes.”

“How tragic,” he lets out a short, unimpressed breath, barely sparing you a glance. “Must be hard.”

You closed your eyes to contain yourself, just when you thought that maybe he was showing some sympathy, but you get it. You were one of the few lucky ones out there. You were willing to bet that you earned what he did in a full week within half the day.

So yes, in a way, you understood, and even though his hostility isn’t making you feel any better, you welcome it with open arms. You exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You sound like you hate your job, too.”

“Oh, a thousand-fucking-percent,” he didn’t hesitate to supply, spitting on the ground to make his point stronger. “I fucking hate it with every inch of my life. But it works.”

You wanted to ask what it was he did, but you held back. “So, you understand where I’m coming from, then?”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

You frowned. “That’s a really depressing way to look at life.”

“Yeah, well,” he leaned his face closer to yours. You didn’t move an inch, mesmerized at how prettier his eyes were up close. “Tears can’t pay my bills. You’re probably getting paid right now as we speak.”

For the first time ever since you had this conversation, burning shame encapsulates your insides, a trailing fire in your pit that didn’t cease to be put out. He was right, and he knew it. He scoffed, leaning away. The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy. Shared.

After a while, he spoke again, his tone quieter. “You quitting?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten to a point in my career where I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.”

“So, all of this was for naught then? Wasted tears?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He hummed like he understood. He didn’t question it, didn’t argue, didn’t say anything at all for a long moment. His face was unreadable, his posture relaxed, but his fingers tapped absently against his leg. He leaned his head back on the railing, closing his eyes.

“Find something,” he mumbled, eyes still shut.  His voice was so low that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you at first. “Then start figuring out how to get there.”

“If it were that easy,  I would have done it,” you sighed.

He sighed back. “I never said it was. We have only one life to live, but it doesn’t mean that we only have one life to lead. You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said. Just who was this man you had encountered tonight?

He was right. You had witnessed it first hand. The amount of people you’ve known and lost who have experienced a burn out so bad that they had pretty much lost their minds over it and it never recovered. They were the reason you were still here; you didn’t want to be like them.

You watched him stand up, raising your head to look at his towering figure as he looked down on you. “You want another drink?” He asked softly.

You hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, you nodded. He nodded back, turning toward the rooftop door. “Alright,” he said, as if that settled something. “Wipe your tears and freshen up. I’ll tell Yunho.”

And just like that, he had disappeared from your sight. It was as if nothing happened, like your encounter with him was a fever dream.

When you were sure that you looked at least presentable, like you didn’t just cry over your job in front of a total stranger who disliked you for your money, you made your way back downstairs, pleased to see that the bar had picked up and that the bartender earlier was busy with the patrons.

But the fox-eyed man was nowhere to be seen. Not on the bar stools, not on the tables that were spread out.

Your heart sank as you sat in the exact spot you were at before you went to the rooftop, waving your hand subtly at the bartender who immediately walked over you with a questioning look. Your mouth suddenly went dry, and then, you wanted to hit yourself. You didn’t even get fox-eyes’ name.

“He’s gone, sorry. He’s not really one to stay for long because of his job,” the bartender - Yunho - explained with an apologetic tone, reading the look on your face. “He did leave you this, though.”

Déjà vu settles over you from head to toe when Yunho hands you another drink, the very same drink. Only this time, he has a genuine smile on face as gave it to you. “He already paid for it, says his apologies for not staying,” he leaned over the table closer to you with a smirk. “So, how’d you know each other?”

“We don’t,” you supplied truthfully. “We bumped into each other tonight.”

“Ah,” he sounds out an acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you had the displeasure, then. He, uhm, can come off as very strong,agree  personality wise. As his friend, I hope he didn’t offend you.”

You think about the sound advice he left you before he disappeared and shook your head. “Don’t be, I do agree that he’s, uh, quite assertive, but he seems like a very insightful person.”

He raised a brow in amusement. “You sure about that? I remember wanting to throw him off the rooftop when I first met him.”

You nodded, laughing. “I’m sure. He has a refreshing personality.”

Yunho stared at you with a very inquisitive look. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes were quite sharp, now that you were up close and personal with him. What was up with you encountering very unnerving people tonight? Were fox-eyes and his friends really this daunting?

“Hold on a moment, please,” he murmured, finally leaning away, only for him to open a cabinet you didn’t know was there and grab a sticky note, scribbling something quickly on it before handing it to you. Confused, you took it, and gave him a questioning look as your eyes settled on the pad. It was a phone number, that you could tell.

“Look,” he began awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to do this, and this is literally a violation of my job, but that,” he pointed at the paper. “Call that number if you ever need a companion. You really look like you need it.”

“Is it his number?” You blurted out, gripping the note.

Yunho shook his head. “No. I would never do that, he would butcher me on the spot. But it is directly related to his job.”

“That…does not sound sketchy at all,” you trailed off, your frown getting deeper as you felt more unsettled.

He shrugged, turning around for you to think about it, and coincidentally, another patron from the bar flagged him, anyway, so he would have left regardless. Tonight was definitely the weirdest night of your life. 

You put the now crumpled note in your purse as you finished your drink fast, intending to forget about it even though it was given to you in good will.

You knew that called companions did exist for lonely people. It was a whole new meaning to ‘call a friend’. You’d occasionally hear your co-workers gush about it every lunch break, that the experience was life-changing. 

Regardless, you thought it was pathetic to resort to doing it. Being alone sounded more appealing than being so desperate to be with someone that you’d pay for their time. You would never, ever call that number.

You called the number the next day.

But not without doing a little bit of research, of course. While you were browsing, you were genuinely surprised to see that called companions were a booming business, a billion-dollar one, even. 

In a way, you understood, especially for the wealthy. Lord knows that you know plenty of people who’d rather die alone than have people around them only for their cash. Paying for comfort sounded logically sane even though the concept seemed uncomfortable for some, even for you. 

You pay for a temporary friend and when your time is up, it’s like it never happened. No strings attached, no worries. You paced the living room back and forth as you chewed on your nails anxiously as you waited for the other line to pick up, the prolonged ringing echoing in your ears grating, and for a second, you were concerned that Yunho had played a mean prank on you.

The conversation with fox-eyes made you realize how truly lonely you were, that maybe you really did just need someone to talk with. You hoped that you could see him again, you wished to talk to him once more, but you knew that was wishful thinking on your end.

We only have one life to live, but we have only one life to lead. That never left your mind, repeating in your head like some sort of gospel like it was the answer and solution to all your problems.

You didn’t care anymore, you were at an all-time high desperation. Besides, you weren’t staying here. You’d be gone in three months by the time that the company branch would be good to stand by themselves.

“Thank you for calling The Wonderland of Desire and Utopia where your hands aren’t the only thing that’ll be busy tonight, and where there’s no small talk, just big conversations. Our lines are open, but so are we. My name is Kang Yeosang, would you like to set an appointment?”

Your foot stopped halfway from taking a step, still in the air, as your jaw dropped at what you had just heard. Your eyes were wide with disbelief, especially at how deep the voice was on the other end. Well, that was certainly one way to begin a phone call like this.

“I know, right? Most of our clients say the same thing!”

You yelped, audibly startled. You mentally cursed, you must’ve said that thought out loud like a blithering idiot. But more than that, what in the hell did you just call? Was Yunho really playing a mean prank on you?

“Uh, h-hi, uh, I’ve never done this before,” you laughed nervously. “Can you explain how this works and how…discreet it is?”

Yeosang hums thoughtfully, his voice taking in on a cheerful note as he lets out a merry laugh. “Our services are very discreet, rest assured. We make our workers sign an NDA that our clientele can set up, if need be. Our companionship requires a certain level of respect and vice versa.”

“I see,”  you murmured, sitting down on the couch to get your footing. Something tells you that this will permanently change the trajectory of your life. “So, how does this work? Like I said, I’ve never done this before…”

“If I may, you seem to be the shy type,” Yeosang said. “Usually, almost all of our clients are repeat customers, so that means they have their go-tos. Our rates are by threes and are extendable, of course. Would you like me to send a list of companions and call back?”

That didn’t sound too bad, three hours seems like a very reasonable time for you, especially if all you’re looking for was a friend who you’ll hopefully click with and take a liking to.

“No, no need,” you denied politely. “Would you be able to pick out one for me? I-I’m not really fussy.”

There was a pause on the line, the discernible clicking of the keyboard filling in the silence. “Are you free by nighttime?” Yeosang asked. You made a small sound of agreement. “I have someone perfect for you. I can vouch for him, he’ll make the entire experience very comfortable for you.”

Your chest heaved as Yeosang talked about the rate and the payment as well as the paperwork he was to send you in a bit that details your companion’s details. You did like this bit of the process - hell, if you were about to pay someone for their time, as sad as that is, you did want to know things about them, at least.

Before you knew it, you were being thanked for your payment and you were thanking Yeosang for the help. A file was sent to your email so you quickly opened your laptop.

It didn’t really hit you what you’ve done until you’ve hung up and the only thing around you was silence. “Oh my God,” you muttered in horror as you opened the file and read the contents.. “Did I just do that…?”

Recipient: Kang Yeosang - Wonderland of Desire and Utopia Subject: Companion Information (Important!) Name: Jung Wooyoung Birthdate: November 26, 1999 Current Residence: Busan, South Korea Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Blood Type: A+ Height: 173 cm (5’8”) Allergies: None Tattoos: Four Piercings: Four Green: soft touches, massages, bondage, exhibitionism, blindfold, degradation, age play, biting, spanking, corruption Yellow: multiple participants, feet, breath play, wax play, CNC, voyeurism, somnophilia Red: knife play, furries, assault, food play, uncommon roleplays, blood, other bodily fluids besides arousal, watersports

You blinked repeatedly, frozen on the spot. You even went as far as rubbing your eyes before re-reading the entire thing. Did Yeosang send you the wrong information? This was a bit too oddly specific for just a called companion.

You could feel your face heat up as you soaked the information one by one. And blood? You practically gagged, that certainly something you had no interest in knowing, but now, there was no way to unread all of this.

“Jung Wooyoung,” you mouthed silently, feeling and testing the weight of the name on your tongue. It had a nice ring to it, you thought it was a very pretty name. There was no picture attached to the file. Not that it mattered, appearances definitely don’t mean a single thing to you.

It was when you were done eating and were currently washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Another thing you fancied with this house was that there was an intercom in the kitchen so you didn’t have to go directly towards the door. You were suddenly reminded of fox-eyes, wondering what he would say about rich people and their toys. You could picture the sneer on his face and it brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! I already unlocked the door for you. Go straight and you’ll see me in the kitchen,” you talked through the intercom, hoping the crackling of it hid the nervousness in your voice.

The telltale sign of someone entering the house made your nerves shoot up. You were still washing the dishes and putting them on the rack, you didn’t want to break anything, but you were just very nervous. Your back was turned from the new incomer and it was when you heard the shuffling of feet from behind you.

“J-Just a m-moment,” you stammered pathetically. “L-Let me just wash my hands…”

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was here - right behind you. You could practically feel the subtle shift in the air. A faint, amused chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

“Take your time, dollface. I have all the time in the world to make you relax,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth, it was husky and had a teasing edge to it that literally made your knees want to buckle.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and turned around. That was a mistake. The polite, neutral greeting you had prepared died in your throat the second you saw him.

Apparently, he was just as surprised as you. The cocky smirk he had on his face as he was leaning on the dining table fell down in slow motion to be replaced with shock as he took your face in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the fox-eyed man you wanted to see again scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head as if this was a nightmare he couldn’t wait to wake up from. “You? You’re L/N Y/N?”

“And you’re Jung Woooyung,” you drawled out, biting your lips after saying it out loud.

“Why?” Wooyoung asked, tone snappy, challenging you, it seemed. “Did you have something else named for me in your pretty little head? What is it? Asshole? Jerk? Doucheface?”

You hesitated, holding the edge of your skirt in a tight bunch in your fist. The gesture doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention, but he doesn’t make a comment on it. Finally, you shook your head and shrugged. “Fox-eyes.”

His brows twitched. “Excuse me?”

A sharp exhale heaves from your chest. You turned your head to avoid eye contact with him, a deep crimson coating your cheeks. “Fox-eyes. Your, uh, eyes. They reminded me of a fox.”

You caught the way Wooyoung’s eyes were trying to decide if he should just walk out now or endure the rest of the night. He crossed his arms, staring you down. You shifted your feet, uncomfortable at how intense his eyes were.

“Unbelievable,“ he muttered under his breath, but due to how silent the house was, you were able to hear it. “It’s like this world is forcing us to meet at every turn.”

You couldn’t agree more. Here you were, literally thinking about how you didn’t mind it if you saw him again, but now that he was not only in front of you but literally in the house, you didn’t know what to do.

He began rounding the table until he was only a couple of feet away from you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He narrowed his eyes irritatingly. “I’m not going to eat you.”

You frowned. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His lips twitched into a small smirk ever so slightly, it was very reminiscent of what you told him last night and you were pretty sure that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Were you really that lonely? You were many things, but the last thing I expected was for you to call a service so you wouldn’t be alone. Money really isn’t everything, huh?”

And there it was. You purse your lips, deciding to ignore his last statement. Nothing good was going to come out of it. 

It certainly wasn’t helping that you were able to look at him up close and personal now that your tears weren’t clouding your eyes and it was brighter than the rooftop. My God, you thought. He was more attractive than you initially thought. His eyes were sharper, his nose more upturned, and his lips were plumper and juicer.

Wooyoung started to massage his temples as if he was already tired before the conversation even began. “Let’s discuss boundaries, both for you and me. Let me know anything, and I mean anything, even if it’s just as simple as turning the lights off or not.”

You crinkle your brows in confusion, but he continued. “I also want to know your pain tolerance, and especially your safe word. This is my job and I do take it seriously. If there’s anything you’re looking for, I need to know before we begin.”

“H-Hold on, what on Earth are you talking about?” You blurted out, your entire face completely scrunched up in visible confusion. “Why do we need the lights off? And pain? What—”

He scoffed, eyes darkening as his jaw locked in impatience. “Y/N,” he deadpanned, voice devoid of any emotion. His tone sent shivers up your spine once more. “This is already humiliating for me as is, and if this is your way of getting back at me for last night, don’t.”

“I really don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about, seriously,” you said exasperatedly as you slowly got more and more aggravated at what’s happening.

Wooyoung stopped talking, his eyes lighting up with something like he just realized something. He narrowed his eyes, his head tilting slightly as he studied you in a way he hadn’t before. 

Something in his expression shifts into an even deeper realization and his eyes widened, a startled gasp leaving his lips. Wooyoung looked so shocked that the way his entire body stiffened honestly scared you. 

“You don’t know,” he whispered, his voice taking on a horrified note. “Holy shit, you have no idea.” A dry laugh escaped him, short and bitter. "Unbelievable."

You blinked. "Know what?"

His expression didn’t change. He just kept staring at you, unblinking, his breathing slow and measured. Your pulse kicked up. "You’re freaking me out," you admitted, forcing out a nervous laugh.

Still, he said nothing. His silence stretched too long, too unnatural, until finally, he let out a sharp exhale and raked a hand through his hair. "No fucking way."

Your stomach plummeted. "Okay, what is going on?”

“I need to ask you something,” he said slowly, voice eerily careful. “How did you wind up calling the number you did?”

For a moment, you thought about lying, but there was no point. “Yunho gave it to me,” you admitted. “Said to call if I need a companion.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his fist lightly bumped the table. His jaw tightened impossibly more than you thought possible. His intensity was honestly worrying you. “That motherfucker,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll kill him.”

Something in your stomach twisted as you watched him rub a hand over his face in frustration. “Listen to me, dollface,” he muttered. “I have to refund you your money.”

You were confused. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he snapped, his eyes widened in anger. “I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here for a different type of job. I want you to think really, really hard right now. Use that noggin of yours, think.” 

But how were you supposed to do that? You were the director of the biggest fashion chain in the country, pressure was one you were used to, but right now, you couldn’t think straight. You swear you’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

“I still don’t—”

“I’m a sex worker, Y/N. A male prostitute, if you will. I get paid for sex. To fuck.”

At first, it still didn’t hit you what he was saying, but when it did, everything clicked all at once. The weird conversation with Yeosang, the overly kinky information sheet, the boundary talk, the lights, pain—

“Oh my God,” the blood on your face disappeared and you paled.  "Oh my God."

How could you be so stupid? You quickly turned to him even though you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “I didn’t know, I swear to God I didn’t know. I wouldn't have called, I swear.”

His jaw clenched. "Yeah. I figured that out about five minutes ago."

“B-But Yunho,” you blurted out. 

“He didn’t know,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Called companions do exist, but I wasn’t exactly going to tell my friend that I fuck people for living now, would I? He gave you the number in good faith, because I told him I was a regular companion.”

It all made sense now. All that conversation of him hating his job and why he looked so forlorn about it, why he didn’t want to talk about it, everything made so much sense now. 

A long silence stretched between you, thick and crackling with something unspoken. You tried very, very hard not to think about the actual reason why Wooyoung was technically here. If you blushed now, it would be very obvious to him what you were currently thinking.

Amidst that, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest. You were an idiot, he did say that this was humiliating for him, and now you knew why. You thought about all of the things he said on the rooftop.

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

“You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said.

You didn’t want to assume, one blunder was enough for tonight, but it would greatly explain his aversion to, as he would put it, rich people and their drama.

“Stop that.” 

You swiveled your head towards Wooyoung’s direction, confused if he was even talking to you. “What?”

“Stop that,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He pointed at you haughtily with his index finger. “That look in your face, that pity. I hate it, I don’t need it. Certainly not from you.”

You tilted your head. “I’m not, though. I think you’re quite resilient.”

It was true, but of course, he wasn’t going to believe anything that comes from your mouth. “Really?” Wooyoung scoffed sarcastically. “Is this rich people lingo? Anything that deviates from what’s proper is seen as quirky and shit? Or is it because my job is seen as dirty?”

A frown settles on your face. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to pick a fight, just like he did when you met him for the first time. “Wooyoung,” you said slowly, the weight of his name heavy on your tongue this time. “You know I don’t have a problem with what you do, right?”

He stilled, and for the first time since this whole mess unraveled, he actually looked surprised. Not angry, not disbelieving, just surprised. Like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, turning around to open the fridge nearby before looking at him from behind your shoulders. “I was about to help myself with dessert when you came. I believe I made too much of it.”

It was an open invitation, one you hope he’d take. He narrowed his eyes at you and you could clearly see the simmering anger in them. He shook his head, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure what to make of you.

But then, he exhaled softly. “Where can I wash my hands?”

You perked up, your chest feeling lighter. “You’re staying?”

Wooyoung gave you a look. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I might as well. You paid for my time, and plus, if I’m going to be pissed about this whole situation, I might as well get pissed off eating dessert. Now, can you please tell me where the bathroom is? I’m not particularly interested in eating with dirty hands.”

It's how you found yourself trying hard not to stare at Wooyoung as he helped himself with the cheesecake you whipped up quickly for yourself this afternoon while you were passing time. You swallowed, how can this man be this attractive by just eating?

“Damn,” he mumbled, nodding in approval before he looked at you impassively. “This is pretty good. You could just quit your shitty job and do this, it’s lucrative.”

Your heart just did a flip-flop then and there. Looks like he still remembered what the both of you talked about.  “Hmm. I’m not as good as you think. I bet you could do better.”

Wooyoung raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What gave it away?”

You leaned forward, your elbows leaning on top of the table. “You don’t just suggest someone to switch careers. Only someone who makes food, themselves, knows what tastes good enough to sell.”

That actually got a real laugh out of him - not bitter, not forced - just tired, a little exasperated, but real. “You are, by far, my strangest client, dollface,” he shook his head. “And that’s saying a lot.”

Your lips twitched, fighting off a smile. “I’m serious,” he said. “When I get called over, it’s usually not to eat cheesecake with my clients.”

You hummed, mostly to hide how nervous you were to ask your next question. But when you tried to open your mouth and ask away, nothing really came out.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you. “Just ask,” he said. “It literally doesn’t bother me anymore. Were you going to ask how I got into sex work?”

You blushed beet red, nodding sheepishly. He scoffs, but it wasn’t out of malice, it was more of teasing disbelief. “Lesson one, Y/N. If you want something in life, all you have to do is ask.”

“Anyway,” he took a big bite out of the cheesecake. “It’s quick money. Out here, there aren’t many opportunities for people with lesser education. I have a younger brother depending on me. This is my only way to make a decent living while making my own schedule.”

“I see,” you nodded in understanding. “What about your parents?”

Wooyoung’s face darkened, and for a second, you regretted even asking in the first place. “Mum passed from giving birth to my brother, dad can’t hold a job to save his skin so he relies on me. Make this the last time you ask about him, though, I detest him.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you mumbled more to yourself, but of course, that doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention.

“Huh. So not only are you so lonely and desperate that you resort to seeking comfort with a prostitute, but you also have daddy issues,” he said flatly without missing a beat.

You snorted at that. As insensitive as it is, when he puts it like that, it does make a lot of sense. You couldn’t get mad at Wooyoung for that, if anything, it puts things into perspective and it eases your mind a little. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re thanking me for being an ass to you?”

“For being real,” you gently corrected. “As unsympathetic as you come off, it’s not like the things you’ve told me weren’t true.”

He hummed. “You are an oddball.”

You didn’t reply, staring down your plate that had the unfinished cheesecake. You just realized something and your appetite started to wane down, and you almost felt bad. He noticed this and raised his brow at you. “What?”

“When I bumped into you yesterday,” you mumbled, poking your cheesecake with your fork absentmindedly. “No wonder you looked tired. Did you just, uhm.”

You didn’t know how to say it, you didn’t know what to say without sounding like you were prying, especially when you said that what he did didn’t bother you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything - just stared at you like he was trying to decide if he should be amused or annoyed. You both knew what you were trying to ask.

“Yeah, I just finished working that night,” he admitted, leaning back on the chair with a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, he looked even more tired than before. “Client was an asshole. Gave me those nasty cigarettes as half of the payment.”

“And you sort of took it out on me,” you said slowly.

He huffed a dry, humourless laugh. “Yes.”

For a second, you thought he might say something more. Maybe an apology for snapping at you, or maybe a thank you for the night, just something to acknowledge whatever had just passed between you two. But nothing. Something in his face changed. Wooyoung pushed the plate away from him as he glanced at his wrist for the time. “I should go.”

You blinked in surprise. "Y-Yeah, sure," you tentatively stood up from your chair and he did the same. He didn’t even look back, just walked straight to the door and held the doorknob.

Wooyoung paused, rolling out his shoulders like he was resetting himself.  When he looked at you again, his usual smirk was back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, his voice light, almost dismissive.

You weren’t sure why that made your stomach sink a little. But, you had to let him go. He technically had no reason to be here. You let out a small huff, shaking your head to yourself. "Yeah. See you around."

And with that, he was gone. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he’d been, the weight of the night pressing down on you in ways you hadn’t expected.

See you when I see you. Somehow, you got the feeling you would.

The next time you saw Wooyoung again, it was a by-chance. It was a week after, an entire week where you couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung.

You had just gotten off of the phone that morning when you decided to get out and cool off. Your boss was already on your ass about the oncoming project, and you did try to protest, but you were quickly shut down without a single hint of patience.

It took everything in you not to chuck your phone out the window. One of these days, you could just envision yourself snapping, but for now, you were going to take it one step at a time.

There was a nearby cafe tucked in a corner that you wouldn’t even have seen at all had you not decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. The moment you opened the door, you knew you were going to like it there. You were the type to make coffee at home, but a little trip here and there didn’t hurt anyone.

You distracted yourself by grabbing a smaller version of the menu that held pastry options lying on the table as you watched the barista make your coffee delicately. That would have been fine, but it was when you saw him.

Wooyoung took over making your cappuccino as the other barista took another person’s order. Your mind just about exploded by then, it was like he said the other week  - that this universe was trying to force you onto one another lately.

You cringed, anxiety flooding you, so you lifted the menu and covered your face with it so Wooyoung wouldn’t see you. That didn’t really do anything, you still peeked from behind the menu to glance at Wooyoung as he worked on your coffee.

You let out a small whimper when your eyes landed on Wooyoung’s arm as they flexed while he worked - there was a medium-sized tattoo of a thorny rose displayed on his veiny arms.

Holy hell, you thought. If that wasn’t attractive enough, his unfairly thin waist kept distracting you from the task at hand and while that may be so, it was pretty obvious that he was built despite all the features mentioned.

As if this world was against you, Wooyoung began to make his way to your table, cup in hand. You didn’t even have time to react and by the time you thought about it, it was too late. He had seen you.

“Well, blow me the fuck down,” Wooyoung smirked as he placed the cup in front of you before crossing his arms. “You’re alive.”

You scoffed, putting the menu down, your head rising to meet his teasing eyes. “Didn’t think you’d even remember me, let alone care that I’m alive, or something.”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, stepping closer to your table. “Cut me some slack here, dollface. I’m not that much of a dickhead,” he rolled his eyes. “Just surprised to see you, is all. Last time I saw you out, you were an inch away from falling to your death.”

Somehow, your chest warmed at hearing his voice again even though he was definitely the most insensitive person you’ve ever met. “I thought you couldn’t stand me because I’m rich?”

“You’re right,” he agreed flatly. He gestured to your drink and the laptop you had set up while waiting for your order. “Well, carry on doing your rich people thing, I guess. I’ll get back to work.”

You waved him off, pretending that you didn’t care what he said as he walked away. Work was calling you, however, so it was easier to get back in that groove.

But after half an hour of staring at the screen, frustration twisted in your chest. I snapped the laptop shut, pinching the bridge of your nose as you cursed your supervisor to death in your head. You pushed back your chair a little too hard before walking off, grateful to be sat next to the door, but you were held back by a firm hand wrapping around your arm to stop you.

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours when you turned around in irritation. Damn it, he was even more attractive up close. You shook your arm off of him harshly before glaring at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let go.”

“Easy, dollface,” he tried to placate you, making a move to hold your arm again. “You need to calm down. I don’t want you walking off when your emotions are all over the place. I could practically feel it behind the counter.”

“So, what?” You hissed, looking around to see if there were people to see the spectacle, but when there were none, you raised your voice a bit at him. “You’re going to keep me hostage now because you’re scared I’d go crazy on the streets?”

“Yes, actually,” Wooyoung answered sarcastically, nodding to emphasize his point. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Y/N.” 

He grabbed your arm again to pull you and sit you down back on the chair where you just were. You were taken aback when he put his hands on your shoulders firmly as he looked down to you. “My shift will be over in ten minutes,” he began. “You will sit here and wait for me and then we can take a hike somewhere so you can let out whatever’s bothering you.”

You stared at him, completely thrown off. “Why would I do that? Why the hell do you care?”

His face softened, just a little, like he wasn’t playing some game. “Make no mistake, I don’t care about you, not in the slightest,” he sighed. “But, again, I’m not an ass. I’m not about to ignore somebody who clearly needs to unwind.”

You purse your lips, not replying, but not ignoring him. “That look on your face on the rooftop, I can’t. I know what it’s like to be on that deep end.” 

"This is ridiculous," you muttered annoyingly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gave you one last look before turning around, but heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that you were going to stay put. "I’m serious. Whatever’s bothering you, you don’t have to figure it out alone."

You didn’t know what to say, his genuineness caught you off-guard. Just as he said, he really gets off in ten minutes. Wooyoung haphazardly throws his apron on the counter, not caring where it landed, before he cocks his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

You had no direction in mind, and apparently, neither did Wooyoung. “Where are you taking me?” You asked.

He paused from walking the moment you were both a couple of blocks away from the cafe. “Give me your phone,” he demanded, putting his hand expectantly in front of you.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

He curls his fingers impatiently, gesturing for you. “Come on, I don’t have time all day.”

Not knowing what else to do, you tentatively hand him your phone, to which he snatched it rather rudely from your hand. He tinkers for it for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he glances back up at you. After a while, he gets his own phone and also tinkers with it.

“Here,” he hands you your phone back. He didn’t even look at you and just continued to type on his phone. “I just cancelled another client. We have three hours until I have to go again.”

Oh, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You hurriedly checked your phone and indeed, Wooyoung had just set up another “companion” appointment for you. You reckoned he was surprised because when you looked at the payment option, you had eight different cards that were all filled with cash and he saw.

You blushed hard, your face so hot to the touch that you reckon you’d get burned if you put a finger on your cheek. You knew you weren’t supposed to feel like this, that if you were going to be frank, you two weren’t going to have sex, but the implication was there and you couldn’t help but think about them.

You resumed walking and it felt like it was the most normal thing ever. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but you followed him, anyway.

“So, what do you do for a living, anyway?” Wooyoung asked good-naturedly the moment he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at you.

“Oh,” you sounded out in surprise, not expecting the question. “I’m a director of something.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s working to earn money. I asked you what you for a living.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the distinction. "What’s the difference?”

Wooyoung scoffed, like you had just said something completely ridiculous. "One is just surviving. The other is actually living."

"I mean, I do work," you tried again, feeling oddly self-conscious under his expectant gaze. "And then I go home. Sometimes I watch something. Sometimes I read. That counts, right?"

Wooyoung tilted his head, unimpressed. "So, you exist."

"Wow, okay, rude," you muttered. “Do you even have a hobby?”

"Relax," he chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "And yeah, I swim sometimes. I’m just asking what actually makes you feel something. Like, what’s the thing that makes you want to wake up in the morning?"

You faltered. Because, honestly? You weren't sure you had an answer. “I don’t know,” you admitted shamefully, avoiding eye contact with him. “I actually don’t know. Well, what about you, I guess? I didn’t know you worked here, either.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Watch your step. I won’t catch you if you trip.”

You wanted to glare at him, but the hotel entrance held your attention instead. Your mouth went open, it was the same hotel you had the event at. You stared at him in disbelief, the blush now traveling from your cheeks to your ears and neck.

He seems to have realized the same thing you did and rolled his eyes. “We’re not here for that, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he scoffed. “I needed a drink, I figured you wanted to tag along. Yunho is working tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, following him to the same resto-bar. Wooyoung looked pleased with your reply.

Just like the last time you went, the daytime restaurant was already closed, the bar part of it getting ready to be in full swing. It was certainly a repeat of the very same night.

“Wow, you guys sure got along better than I initially thought,” were the first words you hear upon entering the empty bar.

Yunho was wiping the counters on the farthest part of the bar, but looked up to comment when he saw the both of you enter. Wooyoung laughed and raised his middle finger up. “You almost fucked me over, too,” he said cryptically. He sits down on one of the barstools and gestures for you to do the same. “Come on, Y/N—”

“Yah, Jung Wooyoung, you absolute bastard, you! You left me with that old bitch tonight—oh, who’s that?”

You winced, a bit startled at the new person’s loud voice that came from the back door. He was wearing a fancy suit, the types you’d see your bosses wear, and my, you thought. He was a pretty boy. Much like Wooyoung.

“Hello, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said dryly. You cringed when he pats your shoulder once. “Watch it. This one’s my client. A friend, you could say.”

Hongjoong raised a suspicious brow. “A friend? You? You don’t make friends, Wooyoung,” he looks at you up and down in slight distaste. “Certainly not with the rich type.”

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung warns with a slight edge on his voice. He points at the bartender watching the scene unfold. “Why don’t you tell Yunho to make us four drinks? On this one,” he juts a thumb on you.

You scoffed when Hongjoong left and turned to Wooyoung. “So you took me here to pay for the drinks? Should’ve known you’d only use me for my money.”

Wooyoung laughed, genuinely laughed. His high-pitched voice echoed through the bar, his eyes crinkled up in pure happiness as his mouth split open as he let out that beautiful sound. “You’re funny,” he said. “But no. It’s to appease him. He has a clear distaste for people like you, too.”

“I can see that,” you replied dryly.

“He’s not that bad. A bit straightforward, but he means well. He’s my longest friend.”

“He does what you do, too?” 

“Yes, don’t tell Yunho, he doesn’t know either,” Wooyoung said. “Though he does it full-time. I pick my own schedule because I have my job at the cafe and then I have another during the mornings. I unload trucks for that big ass grocery store downtown. You know that one right?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Three jobs?”

"What, you thought this was it? You thought I just fucked people all day, all night?" Wooyoung gestured vaguely to himself. "No. I have to survive. Though you wouldn’t get it, you earn what I earn in those three jobs within a week, probably."

You blinked, unsure how to react to that information. He always carried himself with such infuriating ease, like he didn’t have a single worry in the world. But three jobs? That wasn’t just busy - that was barely surviving. "You’re a hypocrite, then,” you mumbled. “You and I are no different. You have no living either.”

"Gotta do what you gotta do," he shrugged like it was nothing. “Though, I wouldn’t say we’re the same. I’m merely doing it to put food on the table.”

You knew it, at the back of your head, that there was more to Jung Wooyoung than you initially thought, but now, that thought was sprinkled with utmost respect. It was a dangerous thing to feel.

Just then, Yunho approaches where you were seated as Hongjoong chooses to sit beside you and places four shot glasses on the table - one for each of you.  

Wooyoung didn’t even get to taste anything, his phone suddenly rang, the shrill of it loud against the empty space of the bar. He takes one look at it and closes his eyes in concealed frustration.

“It’s Seonghwa, fuck,” he cursed, looking at Hongjoong, who looks at him in worry. “Shit, I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

Wooyoung runs to the rooftop, not even bothering to see what you’d say about the matter. You watched him go, flabbergasted, and not knowing what to do now that you were basically left with his two other friends.

“Seonghwa’s our boss, you could say. Anyway, what’s a person like you doing with the likes of Wooyoung?” Hongjoong suddenly quipped, downing his shot with a grimace on his face. “Fuck, Yunho, what you put in here? Gasoline?”

“You’ll find out if you suddenly drop dead,” the taller man deadpanned.

You turned to Hongjoong’s direction, frowning. “Believe it or not, this is purely coincidental.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yunho shook his head, downing his own shot without any reaction, which pisses Hongjoong off. “Wooyoung’s a busy person. He doesn’t just bring friends around.”

You couldn’t help the snort that comes out from you. “We’re not friends. He tells me he doesn’t like me all the time.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s one thing to get paid to do…you know,” Hongjoong gives you a look, one that Yunho doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s another thing to hang outside of that bubble. I’d say he’s fond of you.”

You should have laughed it off, but instead, you sat there, rooted in place, heart stumbling over itself in a way that made you feel unsteady. “Seriously, it’s not like that,” you reiterated. “This is a purely transactional relationship. Nothing else.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Yunho smirked.

Turns out, Wooyoung was right - Hongjoong wasn’t all that bad. If anything, he was equally as wise and insightful as Wooyoung was. You realized it might have been because of what they’ve gone through in life. Makes you really think about the other side of this life.

As it turns out, Yunho and Wooyoung’s mothers were close friends. Life was good until Wooyoung’s mother passed away. On top of that, Wooyoung’s father was a raging alcoholic who had no incentive to look for a job, so that left Wooyoung to fend for his little brother’s needs. It’s no wonder why Wooyoung looks and sounds so tired all the time.

“Sometimes, Wooyoung doesn’t even want to go home,” Yunho said quietly, glancing up the stairs to see if Wooyoung was there. “If it weren’t for his brother, he wouldn’t even. His dad is getting worse everyday. God, I hate that freeloader.”

“His pride is higher than the sky,” Hongjoong pitched in, his expression crestfallen, his eyes laced with hidden pity for his friend. “Sometimes, we don’t even know where he sleeps, or if he even sleeps. I’m so scared that one day he just won’t show up to work because he’s worked himself to death with his other jobs.”

You understood why Wooyoung feels such hostility towards you. You really did. He works himself to the bone and gets virtually nothing. You had everything you wanted.

“He’s a good person,” Yunho said softly. “You’ve seen it yourself. He’s a certified asshole. Him still hanging out with you is a proof of the opposite. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I’m sure he is,” you said. You just found it difficult to imagine Wooyoung warming up to you.

“He is, and to be fair, it’s not every time a rich person acts normal around these parts of the country,” Hongjoong scoffed. “All they do is step on us. Feed the hungry, feed them shit, feed them bones and politics type of a thing, and in a way, I’m definitely on his side. Trust me, he’s taken a liking to you. Maybe he’s trying to understand.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you counteracted.

“Listen, Y/N is it? He’s been through a lot with the cards he’s been dealt with. Even if he doesn’t understand, he’ll try. You have to cut him some slack,” Hongjoong eyed your shot, the one you haven’t touched. “You gonna drink that?”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, eyeing you like he had officially deemed you a fascinating case study, as he crossed his arms comfortably in front of his chest. “Your turn,” he smirked. “I told you something about me. Tell me things about you.”

The first time you called him again, you told yourself it was just because you had nothing better to do, and maybe Wooyoung didn’t have other clients.

The second time, you told yourself it was out of convenience. As blunt as he was, he was easy to talk to, someone who could distract you without trying too hard.

By the third time, Wooyoung stopped knocking on your door and just let himself in every single time. To be fair, you stopped locking your doors on the nights you knew he was coming.

And by the tenth time, you stopped making excuses. It was an unwritten rule between the two of you at this point - you were lonely and in need of a friend, and he was trying to pass time.

“Well,” you shrugged. “What do you wanna know? There’s not much I can tell you, as you said, I do lead a lonely life.”

He thought about it for a moment. “You aren’t close with your parents?”

“Next question,” you said a bit more hastily than you intended to. They were the last thing you wanted to talk about, you didn’t want to ruin your good mood.

Instead of questioning it, Wooyoung nodded. Your chest almost caved in on itself. He didn’t push, nor did he look remotely disappointed about being denied an answer. “What’s it like?”

“What’s it like to what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat comfortably on your couch. “What’s it like to have a lot of money? To never worry about the next day or your next meal?”

You stayed silent, contemplating on what you should say. In the end, you decided to be truthful. “Though I do make a lot of money now, I spent most of life with my parents’ money,” you admitted softly. “The saying is true. It doesn’t buy you happiness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Wooyoung hissed, banging his fist on your coffee table, taking you by surprise. He seemed actually mad - his face was contorted into a grimace, reddened with emotions. “I can’t stand you people, but you know what I can’t stand more? It’s when you people say that bullshit.”

“Wooyoung—”

“No, you listen to me,” he barked, breathing hard. “You get whatever you want, get whoever you want. Money is the world’s oyster, and you have plenty. Why the fuck aren’t you happy?”

You sighed, watching him centre himself and not saying anything to anger him more. You understood where he was coming from, and in truth, you understood more than you’d ever tell him. But no matter how much you explain, Wooyoung will never understand you.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before speaking. “You think money solves everything,” you began, voice measured. “And I get it. It makes life easier. It gives you options. But having money doesn’t mean you automatically have happiness.”

Wooyoung scoffed, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed as he watched you talk. “Money gives you access, not fulfillment. Comfort, not peace. In this world, in a material sense, all of those are true. I never worried about my next meal or my next rent money. ”

You watched Wooyoung’s jaw tense. He licked his lips, turning away from you.

“However,” you continued when you saw he wasn’t going to say something. “It doesn’t buy what’s real and important. It doesn’t buy purpose, love, meaning. If anything, having those makes things harder to find. I don’t have a Yunho or Hongjoong in my life because they’re usually after my money.”

His expression flickered, and you can see the contemplation in his face, but you didn’t stop. “The worst part is I can’t complain. People like you look at people like me and say exactly what you’re thinking. This isn’t my first rodeo, Wooyoung.”

His jaw clenched. “Because it’s true.”

“To you,” you shot back, trying very hard to stay patient despite his biting tone. “This might sound ungrateful, but I didn’t ask to be born drowning in money. What if I was never given the chance to figure it out because everything was always there before I even had the chance to want it?”

Wooyoung just stared at you, something unreadable in his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” he admits after a while. “But, I appreciate you telling me.”

You hummed, accepting the response. He motions to you, and then to himself. “So there’s no point in all that wealth then, because clearly, we both have the same mental issues.”

“You could say that,” you laughed dryly, turning on the TV on the most random channel as background noise. 

“I hope it gets easier on you eventually,” he says softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear it if it weren’t you concentrating on his presence. “I hope it also gets easier on me.”

You let out a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

There were nights you called him just to sit in silence, his steady presence somehow anchoring you. It was to the point that Yeosang memorized your number and their boss, Park Seonghwa, would personally book Wooyoung for you at a discounted rate. That was naturally disgusting for you to think, but it was what it was.

"You really have no one else to bother, huh?" Wooyoung would say the moment he’d enter through your door. Sometimes he brought coffee, sometimes doughnuts, most of the time with nothing but himself.

You’d roll your eyes. "Shut up."

And he would. Not because you told him to, but because he knew when you needed silence. You were getting attached, and that was a very, very dangerous concept to think about. Maybe it was, and perhaps you were, but it never stopped you from booking him.

But the most terrifying thing of all? He never once turned you away.

Granted, you were literally paying him for his time. Of course, he was guaranteed to show up. It was fucked, everything was fucked. You were calling a sex worker not to have sex with them, but for their presence.

Right now, you were at the bar waiting for Wooyoung to finish working with one of his regular clients. Yunho and Hongjoong would keep you company most of the time, and you were beginning to genuinely like their presence as well.

“Come on, why even get a pet, Joong?” Yunho asked exasperatedly as he gave you your free drink, putting his hands on his hips. “That poor animal, you’re barely home.”

“Humans ain’t shit; animals won’t betray you or let you down,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes. He grinned at you. “Isn’t that right, rich girl? Bet you can relate, people usually only want you for your cash.”

You were inclined to actually agree, and you voiced that out loud, much to Yunho’s chagrin. “Sure. What were you planning to get anyway?”

“A dog, a real cutie, I’ll go to an adoption centre,” Hongjoong said proudly.

“For Christ’s sake,” Yunho pinched his nose bridge, before he smirked and looked at Hongjoong teasingly. “Isn’t one bitch in the house enough?”

Your eyes widened, especially at Hongjoong’s appalled face. You had to admit, that was good. “You don’t get it,” Hongjoong pouted. “You hate animals.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate animals.”

“You hate fish,” Hongjoong counteracted.

“Hate is a strong word. I don’t know how to take care of them.”

“You have an aversion to cats.”

“The fuck? I love cats,” Yunho genuinely looked scandalized by that.

“You hate roosters and cocks.”

“What? I love co…” Yunho trailed off, the smirk on his face slowly fading. “Bastard.”

Indeed, you really did like these two. They made you feel less alone. Now you knew what it felt like to have friends, and it felt great. While those two were bickering, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Wooyoung cocked his head with a small smirk. “Leave ‘em,” he chuckled. “They could keep going all night.” He holds his hand out and curtsies mockingly at you, not the bad kind. “Ready to go, Your Highness?”

True to his words, Hongjoong and Yunho were still bickering when you walked out. They didn’t even notice that Wooyoung had arrived and was now leaving with you. 

You had no direction in mind this time. It was only nearing four in the afternoon, much earlier than the time you would usually see Wooyoung. A nice walk in town wouldn’t hurt for a change. You didn’t want to go to the house this time, you were in a horrible mood.

Your co-workers from your own branch had their getaway without you. Sure, you were technically on the other side of the country, but you weren’t the only one. Some of your co-workers who were sent to other branches went as well. 

You were snapped out of your brooding thoughts when Wooyoung elbowed you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Crappy co-workers,” you said, not even bothering to sugarcoat what you really thought.

Wooyoung chortled, sitting down on the park bench that overlooked the entire greenery. You chose to sit with him. If you weren’t tied to your work in Seoul, you wouldn’t mind living here permanently.

“Still don’t like me?” You teased him.

He scoffed, side-eyeing you sarcastically before his eyes returned forward. “No.”

“But you’re here with me,” you shrugged, pulling your cardigan closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“Doesn’t mean I like you,” he pointed out. “Plus, you’re paying me. It’s literally my job to be with you right now.”

“Right,” you chuckled, leaving that conversation for another day. “Can I ask you something?”

Wooyoung hummed a go-ahead answer, a permission for you to ask what you wanted. “You said you have a brother?” He nodded his head once. “May I ask how old he is and what he does when you’re…working?”

“Interesting question, dollface,” he raised a brow. “But it’s oddly on brand with you.”

You shrugged. “I have nothing to lose.”

“I admire the audacity.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. There was something almost vulnerable in his expression. “He’s twelve. When I’m not around I drop him off to his babysitter. I trust Jongho with all that I have to take care of him.”

Wooyoung hesitated, running a hand through his hair before he continued. “He knows,” was all he said.

There was a beat of silence. You waited until he continued. “My brother knows that I do sex work,” he said, a hint of pain laced in his voice like it has always been there. “He knows, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can.”

You have talked about his father before. You never asked, Wooyoung would just talk about him out of the blue, however, this was the first time you talked about his brother. 

Every single time you meet with Wooyoung, you learn things about him little by little and you can’t help but look at him differently each time you do. He likes to pretend he isn’t afraid whenever the topic about his family arises.

Behind all that cockiness and bravado, is an exhausted little boy who grew up faster than the world should have let him. You want to imagine you understood.

“He used to be good, you know?” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, putting his hands in his pockets. “My father, I mean. It wasn’t until my mother passed away that he started turning into the alcoholic bastard I now know him to be.”

Somehow, that stung more than you’d like to lead on. The fact that there was a potential in this lifetime for Wooyoung’s life to have been the other way around, only for his own father to snuff it out of him.

“It doesn’t hurt as much to remember, that I could have had what a normal person could have had, but it still fucking sucks,” he said. “This might be cheesy, and I don’t say it often to their faces, but this is why I cherish Yunho and Hongjoong in my life.”

“How so?” You asked, though you had an inkling as to why.

“They’re my chosen family, wouldn’t trade those motherfuckers for anything,” he chuckled, a fond smile spreading through his face. “There’s not a lot of things I believe, not anymore, but I do believe you choose the people you want in your life. Hell, I would have dropped my father a long time ago if I could. It’s the only way I’ll ever get to be free.”

“You will be,” you muttered automatically before you could stop yourself. Wooyoung stared at you expectantly. “Being free, I mean. Time will grant you that right.”

He laughed incredulously, and for a second, you wanted to berate him for putting himself down. “Seriously,” you tried to convince him. “This might be difficult to imagine right now, but this will pass. You never know, maybe you’d get to take yourself and brother away and be your own person eventually.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Wooyoung sighed. “This is all I’ve known all my life, it’s difficult to not get stuck in this rut when all I want most of the time is to kick my father to the curb or to bash my every client’s head who pays me to suck my dick. It’s a cycle; I think, I sulk, I work, because if I don’t, we’ll starve.”

“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you?” You raised a brow in response.

His lips curl in obvious distaste and irritation. “Don’t get me started on what it means to be alive, Y/N.”

“There’s your answer, then,” you shrugged. He tilted his head in confusion. “You’re a fighter, Wooyoung. As long as you're breathing, you keep fighting. You hold onto that vision of your perfect future, and no matter how painful the steps, you keep moving toward it.” 

Wooyoung stared at you like you had all the answers to his questions. If you couldn’t read him before, you sure as hell couldn’t now. His expression morphs into something you couldn’t explain, yet it made your heart tremble. “I rely on myself, just making sure that was clear,” he said. “And I want what I know I could have, but goddamn it, why does the thing I want so fucking bad always out of my reach?”

He leans back on the bench, tilts his head up to stare up the sky with the most faraway look in his eyes. “I want to get the fuck out of here,” he swallowed. “So fucking bad.”

“And you will,” you assured him. “You deserve freedom, Wooyoung. Just like me, just like the rest of us. It might not be today, might not be tomorrow, but you will get there someday.”

“God, you really are the strangest rich person I’ve met. It’s like you’ve seen more shit than I have.” He shifts his head in your direction. “Will you get out, too?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. You shrugged.  “You asked me before if I wasn’t close with my parents,�� you said, instead, the wind carrying your voice for you. “Are you still curious?”

The sharpness in his eyes had softened, just a little. He doesn’t say anything, but he turns his body ever so slightly in your direction to indicate that he was ready to listen. You had to smile at that.

The last thing you wanted to talk about were your parents, but it was time. “I didn’t exactly have the best relationship with my parents, if not, ever. I had no siblings either, so I pretty much grew up alone,” you began, sighing afterwards to brace yourself.

It already pained you to remember these, but your mouth wasn’t going to stop now that you had started. “My mom was the classic narcissist that literally questioned everything I did with all the hours that God had made everyday,” you chuckled bitterly. “Nothing was ever good enough for her.”

“If I’d get an A+, she’d tell me it wasn’t enough since A++ still existed,” you continued, your voice hardening the more you spoke. “I had to lose more weight, I had to act classier, I had to have this, that, and be everything that I already was even though I knew to myself I was good enough.”

You hadn’t meant to rant. Wooyoung titled his head, his entire body shifted fully to your direction at this point. “Your father?”

“He’s a different story,” you let out a dry laugh. “I love him, by God, I still do. But the love he held for my mother blinded him to my suffering and need for comfort when she berated me over nothing. To this day, he still doesn’t believe me when I tell him what mother did.”

“To be quite honest with you,” you spoke. “I don’t know who is the worse between the two.”

Wooyoung was quiet, watching you carefully as he listened to you. “You know what the kicker is?” You shook your head in disbelief. “They’re miserable. My mother stopped loving him a long time ago. But they have to stay together, it would be a disgrace to divorce in our world. It’s utter madness, I tell you. I have to be in the middle of that because I carry the family name.”

It wasn’t much of a secret that this is where your need for isolation started. You’d rather be alone. You already had a lifetime of baggage and weight you didn’t want to pass to anyone.

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like understanding, like an acknowledgment of something that didn’t need to be put into words.

“I give a quarter of my total earnings to my father,” he said after a while. “Unfortunately, at the end of the day, I do live under his roof. If I didn’t give him my money, he wouldn’t hesitate to not only kick me, but also kick my brother out. His sons.”

He shrugged, exaggeratIng the move, as if he was proving to himself that it didn’t bother him, but you could clearly see through him. “At the same time, he can’t do that,” he clicked his tongue. “I am his only source of income, after all.”

You would consider yourself to be a very sympathetic person, but all the sympathy in the world cannot encompass what you feel for this man sitting beside you. Jung Wooyoung was everything you wished you'd found earlier in your life.

And you wished he found you earlier in life so that maybe, he wouldn’t be alone dealing with all of this. He’d have you even though he didn’t want you.

He stretches his limbs with a small groan before turning back to you with a bright grin on his face. “Both of our families suck ass, huh?”

You thought you were used to how crass he was, but still, he never failed to surprise you. “Yeah,” you laughed. “Yeah, they do.”

The topic just changed from there. You had no idea who started it, but all you know was that right now, Wooyoung and you were talking as if you weren’t his client and you weren’t paying for his time.

The sun was almost setting in the horizon, but the conversation carried on. You had no idea how long you two had been sitting on that bench, it was to a point that you were sure that your butt had imprints on it, nor had you any idea what time it currently was.

Usually, you would check your phone, but you didn’t bring it today. You had no reason to, you didn’t know you’d spend time with Wooyoung outdoors. But it was good, you didn’t want to be interrupted. You were too busy being with Wooyoung. 

You wanted to remember this day. You could forget everything that has ever happened to you, but not today. It was the first time Wooyoung had completely let his guard down to talk to you. His gestures were more animated, his face brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“When I was a kid, I loved climbing that big ass tree over there,” he laughed, pointing at the big tree across the park. “Always fell flat on my ass, too.”

He laughed the way he did when he was with Yunho and Hongjoong. Wooyoung said you had money, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have enough to pay to see even a glimpse of young Wooyoung back then, before everything.

You probably looked like a fool staring at him the more he talked. You wished Wooyoung could see his own face right now, and all you did was wonder how he used to spend his days and how many more stories of his life he had to tell you.

Tell me all of them, you thought. So I can stay alive for a little while longer.

It was when you felt it - the first fat raindrop that splashed against your cheek. You looked up just as the sky darkened. It startled you a bit, you could have sworn it was still a bit sunny earlier.

"Great," you sighed, getting ready to stand up. "We should go before this turns into a downpour."

But, Wooyoung only grinned. He held your arm to stop you. "Or," he said, tilting his head towards the sky with that irritatingly smug expression. “We could stay.”

A drop landed on your nose. Then another. But that wasn’t what got you, it was when Wooyoung’s hand dropped from your arm to your hand. You stared at him, horrified. "And get soaked?"

“Listen to me,” he began. “What if we forget everything just for tonight? No work, no shitty parents, just us and the rain.”

In your peripheral vision, you could already see people running to get cover, but your eyes never left Wooyoung’s.

“We’ll sing like we’re alone. Just imagine, Y/N,” he laughed so carefree, it hurt your heart. “We could literally be a force that could shake this whole damn world if we stood up to it, but only for tonight.”

"You're impossible," you sighed, but deep inside, you could already feel that fire inside you rising.

“You still have a lot to learn, I’m telling you,” he said excitedly, bringing his palm up with his other hand to feel the raindrops hitting his skin. “This is what it means to be alive. Don’t take for granted these little things,” he squeezed your hand tighter. “Because these little things are all that we have.”

The rain started to pick up, and it poured down so hard, the both of you were already soaked from head to toe within five minutes. 

“Everyone gets their freedom, it’s just a matter of time,” he said over the rain. “But right now, let's pretend we’ve reached the finish line.”

There you were, holding Wooyoung’s hand as you let the rain pour over you. It was so ridiculous, that you started laughing. It triggered Wooyoung’s own laughter, but the rain was so loud that it only carried your laughter over it, to be unheard to nobody else but the two of you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this - breathless, uninhibited, real. You weren’t even cold, and your clothes didn’t feel heavy on your body. There was just peace around the two of you, and strangely, that was all you needed.

The rain, you, and Wooyoung. That was all you needed.

You got slammed with so much work, you were surprised that you even had time to eat and shower. Phone call after phone call, Zoom meetings after the other, it was hectic. 

But, you were slowly beginning to realize that this trip wasn’t to help the other branch that they’d opened - it was just so they could have an excuse to have you out here doing something else. You’ve always been true to your work, working with clients for their utmost satisfaction and not their money. Well, your co-workers didn’t function like that. It was their loss, really.

These times were the moments you wished Wooyoung was here with you, but you haven’t booked him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to - it was that you couldn’t. You chose not to.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself wondering what he was doing, if he noticed your absence, if he even cared. You’d tell yourself that it didn’t matter, but then you’d be lying to yourself.

You decided to go to the bar, hoping to pass time or have a drink. Wooyoung wasn’t the only company you have, but as you entered the empty space, you knew that he was the only person you wanted.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, rich girl,” Hongjoong greeted you the moment he saw you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He pats the barstool beside him as Yunho nods his head at you in greeting as well.

“Wooyoung won’t be coming tonight,” the bartender said apologetically. “Were you here to wait for him?”

“Has he been busy lately?” You asked, automatically biting your tongue the moment the words came out. 

“He hasn’t been at our job for days now, ” Hongjoong cleared his throat, side-eyeing you again as if to tell you to not say a word about the job. “But he’s been taking extra shifts at his other jobs. I think he’s piling them up so he’d have more free time with you.”

Oh, that certainly caught your attention. “What does that even mean?”

Yunho smirks, temporarily leaving his station to humour you. “You know damn well what that means, aren’t you rich people educated on shit like that?”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t know you thought the same.”

“The point is,” he waved his hand. “We’ve never seen this excited to be with someone in a while. He looks so…what’s the word?”

“Alive,” Hongjoong supplies. “He’s never looked more alive than he does now, and it’s all because of you.

You blinked, the weight of Hongjoong’s words settling deep in your chest. Alive. They weren’t joking. They weren’t exaggerating. They both meant it.

“I mean, not to be callous about it, but I do pay him a hefty sum,” you shrugged, trying to tread the topic carefully. “He’s probably always been like this?”

“Has he?” Yunho raised a brow, leaning forward. “Because the Wooyoung we know doesn’t let just anyone in. He doesn’t show up for just anyone. Money be damned, if he doesn’t want to, don’t even expect anything. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“You’re what he looks forward to at the end of his days, Y/N,”  Hongjoong pauses, hesitant to say his next words. “Which is why he’s been in a horrible, horrible mood when you stopped booking for his time. It’s been almost two weeks now, what’s going on?” 

“No, but to be fair, Wooyoung hasn’t really showed up either, now that I think about it,” Yunho frowned. “Jongho says he hasn’t been going home, either. Just calling to check in on his brother.”

That was the thought that kept circulating in your head as you walked to the direction of the park. You were certainly worried now, was it a mistake to not seek Wooyoung this time?

And just like before, it also started raining. This time, though, you brought an umbrella with you as you were aware that it was going to rain before you went out today.

And just like before, you found yourself heading towards the park, towards the bench where you last saw Wooyoung. But, the bench wasn’t empty.

Wooyoung. The tears have left a blur in your vision that you couldn’t explain. The pain of seeing him sitting down the bench just staring out into nowhere has left a hole in which your heart should have been.

And just like before, his clothes were also soaked under the pouring rain. Only this time, his laughter wasn’t present in the air.

Not like this, you thought. Not like this.

Without hesitation, you quickly strode towards the bench, stopping short behind it and covered Wooyoung’s soaking form with the umbrella. If he noticed that the rain had suddenly stopped pouring where he sat, he didn’t react to it.

“I don’t reckon your umbrella is big enough for the both of us, dollface,” was all he said. He sounded calm, calmer than you’ve ever heard of him.

How he found out it was you, you were never going to know. You huffed, shifting the umbrella slightly so that more of it covered him than you. “I don’t reckon you care whether you get sick or not.”

Finally, he looked at you, and if it was possible, your heart broke even further. Wooyoung looked even more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. His cheeks were more gaunt and hollow than you remembered, his eyes more sunken than the average person.

Then again, Wooyoung’s life wasn’t normal. You couldn’t even begin to imagine all the things that kept him awake at night. “I don’t,” he admitted. “Not really.”

You made a small noise, gripping your umbrella so hard, your knuckles turned white. “I hope you know that there wouldn’t be enough rainwater in this world to drown you no matter how long you stay here. You might as well seek shelter.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. My demons came to take me to hell, but I’m already there. Plus, they know how to swim, anyway.”

You didn’t argue, there was no point, letting the silence stretch; just standing there behind him hoping to shield him from the rain even if you couldn’t save him from his demons. You left the house to go to the bar at six in the evening, and an hour later, you found yourself standing in the rain with Wooyoung.

Another hour later, the two of you were standing like idiots in a small boutique to find some spare clothes for him. By midnight, he was laying in bed next to you after he had showered and changed his clothes.

You didn’t question why he was out there. He hadn’t questioned why you haven’t called for him in two weeks. You didn’t offer him your bed. He didn’t leave a single space in between you as he laid down next to you. You didn’t push him away.

You just stayed there, listening to the rain against the window, to the sound of your own heartbeat, to the quiet presence of Wooyoung beside you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you felt like a brand new person. You felt normal, like you were just another person on this planet.

“I’m tired,” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking through the darkness as his hand mindlessly played with your hair. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Go to sleep,” you said, not acknowledging the hidden meaning behind his words. You know he’d hate you for it.

“Thank you,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking at him, didn’t bother opening your eyes as his fingers traced your cheeks. “For?”

“The bed. Usually, I don’t have one to come home to.  Thank you.”

The indication was there. He hasn’t gone home in days when you saw him in the rain, and even if he does go home, he never stays long enough because even in his sleep, peace doesn’t visit him.

Humans have their limits, and you had always hoped that Wooyoung would never, ever reach his. The moment that fight left his eyes, would be the moment you would stop fighting, as well.

“You’re welcome,” was the last thing you said before you both fell asleep like everything was going to be okay the next day.

And for a moment, it would be. The both of you woke up to Wooyoung’s phone ringing incessantly. You watched him closely as he spoke with whoever else was calling him at seven in the morning.

You watched as his expression changed from annoyance, to surprise, to genuine relief. You could have even sworn there were tears in his eyes. But they’re happy tears. You would take those over the other kind any day.

“That was my mother’s lawyer when she was still alive,” he explained the moment he hung up the phone. He tried hard to keep the excitement off of his voice, but you’ve been spending enough time with him at this point to know.

“Is everything okay?” You asked.

Wooyoung nodded. “Apparently, my mother signed a will that when I turned twenty-five, which I did two months ago, I’ll receive a lump sum of money to put into my little brother’s future. She knew she would pass soon before she even gave birth.”

His smile grew like the rising sun that rivaled the horizon outside your window right now. “My brother’s set for life even after college, Y/N. I can take a break from working too much for now.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread all over your face as well. A break. You deserve one. Heaven knows you do. That night, for the first time in your life, you didn’t have to watch the sunset alone.

Over the next few days, your closet would slowly be filled with Wooyoung’s spare clothes and belongings. It would be the first time in your life that you had to make space in your closet for someone else.

“This is a fuck ton of clothes you don’t even need, Jesus fucking H.,” he grumbled in annoyance when you asked him to shover your clothes on the other side of the drawer one day.

You rolled your eyes, but kept a smile on your face. “Most of these are my designs, I just keep them for layout purposes.”

He picked a particular piece that you hadn’t seen in a while - a blue, loose, lace crop top. It was when you were dabbling with genderless concepts. The fit was masculine, but the material was feminine. He didn’t even wait for you to say anything, he just shoved it in his space along with the rest of his clothes. Wooyoung would come and go to your place more often than not. Sometimes, you’d be surprised that he was already sleeping beside you, his face more peaceful than you’d ever seen it. Most of the time, it was the nights where you didn’t even book him. He would just do as he pleased.

As you watched him, this feeling that had quietly crept into your heart began to grow. It was something new. Something delicate and real, like the soft glow of the sunset outside your window.

You couldn’t help but wonder when this feeling had started, when the lines between just sharing space and something deeper began to blur. Was it the laughter you shared during late-night conversations, or was it the way he made everything feel so much more possible?

“I was actually going to do it that night.”

It certainly wasn’t the best way to start what you hoped to be a normal Wednesday morning. Your statement catches Wooyoung off-guard. There weren’t many things that made Wooyoung freeze, but sometimes, it seemed like you really never failed to surpass his expectations. It was fascinating.

He sighed, putting the spatula down on your sink so he could wash his hands, the pancakes he was making for the both of you for breakfast in your kitchen temporarily forgotten as he took the apron off to cross his hands over his chest and stare you down.

He knew exactly what you were referring to, you didn’t need to elaborate which night it was.

Still, you tried to tread the topic lightly. It wasn’t because you were trying to appease Wooyoung into liking you, but it was more because you didn’t want to make even more mistakes. Avoiding him for two weeks was a huge mistake on your part.

You tried to convince yourself it was the safe option. You only had less than two months left before you had to go back. You both knew that. At the end of the day, you knew that Wooyoung was afraid and uncertain, and he was especially fragile despite all the walls he built upon himself.

Wooyoung blinked at you, unmoving. “I know,” he said flatly. “I’ve seen and experienced too much shit to not know the look in someone’s eyes when they want to transcend wherever.”

Two simple words, spoken so flatly, so matter-of-factly, that it made your stomach twist. It was so Jung Wooyoung of him. The way he looked at you right now, though? It was the kind of certainty that you’ve never seen from him before. Still, you didn’t miss the way he shifted from foot to foot as he tried to keep his composure.

“That’s bullshit,” your voice was thin, almost unsteady, but you pushed through it. “You told me I didn’t have the guts to jump off of that railing that night. I know you did.”

You remembered that night vividly - the cold bite of the air, the way your hands had gripped the railing so tightly they ached, the way he had stood there, just close enough to reach if you lost your balance, but far enough to agitate you.

“So, I lied,” he closed his eyes before sighing and opening them again to look you deep in the eyes, as if he was trying to convey something without fully saying them. “It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, dollface.”

The breath you had been holding slipped out shakily. You felt dizzy, off-kilter, like the universe had shifted and left you struggling to find your balance. “If I told you the truth,” he murmured, “I don’t think you would’ve come down.”

You’ve been alone all your life, so you were used to being invisible. The last person who you thought would actually see you was a tattooed sex worker who disliked wealthy people. Maybe it was the confusion talking for you, but then, you said something you shouldn’t have. Maybe you were no different than all the people that had made Wooyoung the way he was.

“I don’t understand,” your voice was sharp, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. “You don’t understand,” he deadpanned, his voice twisting into something angrier by the minute. “You don’t understand. You know what I don’t understand?”

You watched and held your breath as he harshly pulled a chair to sit down on it, closer to you. “The things I’d do to get what you have, they’re almost non-human in aspect,” he said, low and seething. “I still think that, and that’s never going to change. Not now, not ever.”

“You have nothing to escape from, absolutely nothing,” he continued, glaring at you. “God knows you have more than enough, surely you can’t be greedy and take what’s not yours to take, Y/N? Don’t be an idiot.”

Life, is what he’s trying to say.

You stared at each other for a lifetime. Wooyoung still looked exhausted. His chest heaved, his eyes dry, and you could practically see his collarbones peeking through his skin and the veins that marred them because of how transparent his skin was. Still, you couldn’t help the rising pride in your chest that overtook your shame because Wooyoung went through everything, yet he’s still so brave.

If Wooyoung can be brave, then why can’t you?

“I’m sorry,” you put your head low, looking down at your lap where your hands laid still. 

“You better fuck off with that, Y/N. I’m warning you,” he growled venomously, and suddenly, he was scooting closer to you. He takes his fist, that one where the thorned rose lay, and hits his chest.

“You’re not the only one who wanted to check out a long time ago. You know how I feel here? Everytime I take a fucking breath, there’s something inside me that feels like I’m breathing in sulfur. ”

You sighed. “I just want to live the way I want, you know? I don’t want everything, I just want to be happy.”

“So do I,” he replied.

You knew he wanted to say more, and you did too, but just like him when he holds back on talking smack about the type of people you belong to, you hold your tongue. It wasn’t because you couldn’t stand Wooyoung and his status, but it’s because you know you have no right to say anything about it.

Then again, maybe you were assuming things, maybe he was fine, maybe Wooyoung does sleep well at night, or maybe he was afraid despite not showing he was.

You didn’t notice Wooyoung’s chair scoot even closer to yours when you began to talk. “I mean, I get it,” you said. “We’re not the same and you’ve drilled that in my head so many times, but it really doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe we are the same, we just want to be happy.”

Wooyoung nods once, not looking like he even understood a thing you said. “You’re not doing shit,” he mumbled. “You can’t do it. Not in front of me. Not while I’m still standing.”

He puts his hands behind your neck before he pulls you and puts his lips against yours. His eyes were still open, tentatively watching you. He doesn’t move his lips, just meeting yours in a modest touch, his hand still holding your head tenderly like you were fine glass. There was no warning, it was as if he was trying to silence the raging storm between the both of  you.

You froze, your body short circuiting as both your mind and your surroundings dissolved into static. You didn’t kiss him back, not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to do it with him properly.

You pulled away, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you caught your breath. Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his face blank except for his small pout and furrowed brows. 

“W-Wooyoung?” You tried to say, but it ended up sounding like a squeak.

“Hmm?”

“You just k-kissed me.”

He completely pulls away from you, his face back to that indifferent look you knew him for. “Yeah?”

Your entire just shut down at that moment, your lips tingling because you could still the imprint of his on yours. “W-Why? What the hell—”

He shrugs with an incredible amount of nonchalance that you couldn’t decide if you should be amazed or offended. “Does it matter? I wanted to do it, so I did.”

You were so flabbergasted, your face blushing as you blinked at him repeatedly. You were surprised your heart hasn’t leapt out of your chest yet. The only reason why you haven’t really tumbled down is purely because of the sheer adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream by the buckets. It felt intoxicating yet dizzying at the same time.

Wooyoung lets out a small laughter, his fingers lifting to flick your forehead softly. “You’d think by now you’d know that I just do whatever comes to my head,” he said, fondness in his eyes.

“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” you frowned. But how does that work, exactly? You could barely think of anything right now.

“How does what work, dollface?” And just like that, he was able to render you into silence. You don’t know how he does it, but it’s making you panic. You decided to shut your mouth, you knew that you’d fumble if you spoke.

He barked out another laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What, cat got your tongue?” He tapped his own lips. “Or is it me?”

The heat rose to your face so fast you swore you felt it burn. Wooyoung stood back up and walked away from you, his hands slipping into his pockets like none of this had just happened. He motions towards the clock overhead the kitchen door.

“I have to head out,” he said. “I got booked by this tourist who wants a pretty boy to fuck.” He clicked his tongue, nodding towards you. “You should eat before you go to work, too.”

You stifle the smile that threatens to break from your lips. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared about my well-being.”

“Debatable,” he replied nonchalantly, but that was accompanied by a solid bite of his bottom lip to stop his smirk from showing.

“I’m just saying,” you chuckled, getting up from where you were as well to grab your purse and work folders. “I’m more than the lonely office worker that hires sex workers for the company. Just like there’s layers upon layers under all the sex work you do.”

Wooyoung’s smirk, or what’s little of it, completely drops. He tilted his head at you, curiosity filling his eyes. You blinked at him repeatedly. “You do…realize that, right? We are always more than what meets the eye.”

His lips curl into distaste. “Sure, I guess,” he shrugged.

“I mean, I know your revulsion is for my background and not me, specifically, and you’re biased, so I understand,” you said, hurriedly grabbing a couple pieces of pancakes on a small napkin to take. “It’s just you, Wooyoung. I’ve never disliked you. I’m not sure if that counts for something.”

Wooyoung’s lips parted, his forced guise of cynicism cracking. There was something else in his expression now - something softer, something fragile, beneath the bravado he always carried.

His direct eye contact wavers. “It does.”

Somehow, that admission settled into your chest like a quiet ache, a warmth you didn’t know what to do with, but you knew the weight behind those words, and he was aware of that. “My God, you’re strange,” you joked, trying to lighten up the situation. “It’s fine, really.”

Wooyoung hummed, stepping past you. “And you’re a fucking weirdo. That balances us out.”

Just before he reached the door, you stopped him by calling his name. He pauses, but doesn’t acknowledge the callout. “Wooyoung,” you said. “Will you be here when I come back from work?”

Then, without turning around, he asked, “Not sure. Why?”

“So I can order extra dinner,” you shrugged, holding your breath without knowing. “I, uhm, booked you for nine hours this time, but you don’t have to. You’re free to do what you want, as usual.”

Last night, not only did you tell Yeosang that you’re tipping extra, but you had to steal Wooyoung’s reservation from someone else. Admittedly, it did cost you a pretty penny, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Sometimes, you’d book Wooyoung when you weren’t even home. That would prompt him to do whatever the hell he wanted, regardless if he was with you or not. He wouldn’t tell you, but Yunho would. Wooyoung would crash at the taller man’s place to rest and sleep. 

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours and you found that his face was filled with more than its usual heaviness. There was something subtle in there - determination. There was a hint of hope and gratitude. There was something other than pain.

“I’ll see what I can do, dollface,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a promise, but you were going to take what you can get.

He walks off, not bothering to close the door since you had to leave as well, but barely. Wooyoung would pause and hesitate, because he kept looking back and sneaking glances at you constantly, knowing that he has to go but not wanting to leave at the moment.

It’s okay, you thought. We still have more time.

The office felt suffocating today. You had to re-introduce yourself to the newer employees for this other branch, and so far, it wasn’t all too bad. From the looks of it, you were hoping that this environment wouldn’t be just like yours in the making.

Fabrics upon fabrics met your eye, new designs from fresher perspectives that genuinely impressed you. You missed this, you spent most of your time here with only Zoom meetings to go off of, and it felt great to be back in the scene in an actual office where you could review potential projects in person.

You were staring at a new recruit’s portfolio, which was admittedly quite good since they knew how to match colours with patterns, trying and failing to focus, when Mingi’s voice pulled you out of your haze.

“You look different.”

You blinked, turning to him. “Pray tell, Director Song.”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you, eyes sharp but unreadable. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “There’s just something different about you today.”

You hesitated. You wanted to tell him. Some of it, at least. But the details felt too complicated, and plus, you had always tried to separate your personal life with your professional work.

But Mingi was your long time friend, both of your parents were acquaintances - it was how he became an intern at your company - so if there was anyone who might understand your dilemma, it would be him. You picked your words carefully, skimming the surface of the truth without diving too deep. “I met someone,” you admitted.

Mingi’s brows shot up in shock.  You could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

You gave a small, almost self-conscious nod. “Yeah. He’s, uhm, quite complex. Very curious.”

Mingi scoffed, smirking. “Aren’t we all?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I would suppose so. Our circumstances are very unconventional. I can’t even put a label on it, there’s no precursor for it, if I’m being completely honest.”

Mingi laughed, but then he caught the way your voice softened at the edges. He exhaled through his nose, a small, quiet sound of understanding. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “People like us…it’s hard to find something worthwhile to hold onto. You know how it is. Love is almost unheard of. Laughable, even.”

Your chest tightened. People like us. What is worthwhile? You had no idea. Neither did Mingi. He could relate; his family was just like yours, after all. You were both born on a different standing and calibre, and it was just an unspoken and unwritten rule that apparently, with high economic statuses comes along a complicated life.

He patted your shoulders affectionately, speaking low enough for you to hear. “Regardless, I’m happy for you, Y/N. It’s a privilege to feel the way you do in this world,” he said. “You deserve to be happy, too. We are not our parents, remember that.”

Mingi dismissed you afterwards, something he might get in trouble for. You were relieved.

Coming back to the house was the most anxiety you’ve ever felt in your life. You’ve learned not to expect Wooyoung to be there. You wanted to give him his freedom, something this world had seemed to have forgotten to give to him.

But there he was. He sat on your couch like he belonged there, like he always had. His phone was in his hands, but the second he noticed you, he locked the screen and tossed it aside.

“Took you long enough,” he mused, tilting his head at you with a smirk.

Wooyoung looked exhausted. It showed in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his usual sharp gaze dulled by something you couldn’t name, and his smirk that usually looked so smug, now looked hollowed.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Wooyoung stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin before settling back down. “Neither did I.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then, why are you?”

He shrugged, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Misery loves company, I guess.”

Wooyoung pushed himself off of the couch. He didn’t say anything else as he stepped closer to you, just tugging your shirt a little to pull you to him so he could lean in and slot his lips against yours in a serene kiss - another one you couldn’t return.

Wooyoung’s younger brother looked just like him.  And when he looked at you, something in his gaze lingered. It was very curious but knowing, like he already knew exactly who you were to his brother.

You wished you knew because you had no idea and if you were being honest to yourself, maybe you didn’t want to know. The house was quaint and a bit neglected, but it was home to Wooyoung, who was currently outside with Hongjoong and Yunho.

Wooyoung’s little brother was seen loitering around cold and hungry by Hongjoong, who took him straight to Yunho at the bar to call Wooyoung. Their father had left the poor child to go get blackout drunk somewhere else. You followed an understandably pissed Wooyoung there.

Luckily, Jongho was free tonight. He had come straight to the house to spend the night since Wooyoung’s schedule lined up with his other job after his time with you.

“He talks about you a lot when I’m done putting this one to sleep,” Jongho gave you a glass, a cracked one, of water. “But never the full story. Like he was keeping something safe.”

You looked away. Maybe it was safer this way. You gripped the glass hard, indescribable anger coursing through your veins at the unknown man who has supposedly fathered him.

“Ready to go?” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly filled the small living room as the other two followed him. He nodded at Hongjoong, who took it as his queue to distract his little brother.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho,” you smiled warmly at the babysitter, giving him a small hug. 

Wooyoung, whether it was subconscious or not on his end, held your hand in his as he started to walk away. It was a challenge ignoring Yunho’s smirk and wiggling eyebrows.

“I owe you one, man, big time,” Wooyoung spoke quietly towards Jongho. “I mean it. I’m not in the mood to see my father after this.”

“What ‘ya want me to tell him if I do see his sorry ass tonight?” Jongho asked. 

Wooyoung’s hand squeezed yours. “Tell him that he can take anything he wants, but he better not take it from me,” he flatly said. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you tell him he can go fuck himself.”

“Deal,” the younger man grinned. “Where are you going to stay, then?”

Wooyoung opts not to answer, instead patting Jongho on the shoulder once before dragging you with him to your car. As you drove, you didn’t need to ask him either. You knew what the answer would be.

The moment you get into the house, Wooyoung showers, presumably to cool off. You get it, you really did. You were left standing in the hallways, staring at the shower door, your mind replaying a specific moment you shared with Wooyoung one time. 

“Nightmare?” Wooyoung asked in concern, pulling your head to his chest. When you nodded, he asked, “What do you usually dream about?”

“Something to kiss the demons out of my dreams,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as your face was pressed on his firm chest. “You? What do you usually dream about?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers tracing your back lazily. “Water,” he said.

“Water?”

“I dream of water that can wash the weight of the world off my shoulders.”

You were so drawn to him. It was silent, unseen, hard to ignore. No matter how often you told yourself to walk away, you never could. 

Walking away was lost on you, because the truth was, you’ve started to look forward to ending your days with him. Wooyoung’s ghost haunted every corner of the house now, especially now when he was trying to temporarily wash away all his burdens.

You didn’t even notice him get out of the showers, your mind very much preoccupied with thoughts of him and everything that's happened so far. 

So when he tilted your chin upwards, you were startled. Your breath got caught in your throat, your body stilling as Wooyoung started to lean in, his lips almost touching yours.

But just when you thought he’d close the space between you, he stopped. “For someone who doesn’t return my kisses,” he murmured, voice low and heavy. “You sure always expect it.”

You looked down, shame filling your chest. You swallowed your words like it might poison you if spoken aloud. Wooyoung sighed, pulling you to the bedroom and sitting beside you on the bed.

“There’s not a lot that I can choose for myself, given my line of work,” Wooyoung began. “It’s an entire process, dollface. When the sun comes down, all the filth run free. I have to be the finest specimen of filth for a living so some daddy’s little angel would get dirt on her knees. I get paid, I go home.”

His words catch you off guard. Wooyoung doesn’t talk about his profession, if not, ever. And you never really asked, but you wouldn’t mind listening. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he continued.

“Then I get so blind with rage to the point that no matter what I do, I could never shake the feeling out,” he chuckled bitterly. “I hurt much more than anytime before, and sooner or later, I have no options left again. Rinse. Repeat. All I know is that all I want is to feel like I’m not stepped on.”

Wooyoung was so calm and collected while your heart felt like it wanted to explode. You hated that he seemed like he accepted all the unfairness that’s been happening to him.

“This might be my job, but sometimes, I feel disgusted with myself. I feel used. Dirty.”

You snapped your head to stare at him in horror at what he said, but you found that he was already staring at you.

You didn’t know what hurt more - the way he said it so plainly, or the fact that he truly meant it. He puts a finger against your lips, parting them slightly. “This. I chose to kiss you. I’d rather do it than not do it at all,” he finishes off. 

He pulled his hand back, just enough to let you breathe again, but you stopped him, holding onto his bicep for dear life. His gaze lingered, steady and unwavering.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Wooyoung asked, a hint of insecurity audible in his voice.

When you nodded enthusiastically, Wooyoung wore the most honest and brightest smile, as if all the heaviness that’s weighing him down had slipped off quietly away from him at your answer.

And then, he leaned in - slowly, deliberately, as if every movement was meant to linger. Kissing Wooyoung was like standing on a cliff where you were just a heartbeat away from falling, and for a moment, you felt weightless, caught between fear and the exhilaration of just being with him.

He deepened the kiss slightly, testing the waters, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you closer. It automatically sends shivers down your spine. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the soft, steady beat of his heart in sync with your own.

His lips parted from yours just enough to let the air in, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours. Both of your eyes stayed close.

You held his face in between your shaking hands. “You’re not alone and you never will be,” you swallowed the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “Thanks for finding me that night, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, kissing you again. This time, it was more certain, more of himself. If this world fell apart, the both of you wouldn’t notice, if only for this fleeting moment.

The kiss was never brought up ever again after that night, even after another week. You both acknowledged that it happened and moved on.

A bubble of frustration was beginning to settle in your chest. Only the clicking of your keyboard could be heard around the room as the night settled. 

Wooyoung was next to you, his legs stretched out, head resting lazily against the headboard. You were hunched forward, eyes fixed on the glow of your laptop screen, fingers moving without pause. You felt the bed dip when he inched a bit closer to you.

“That looks nice,” he suddenly murmured as he pointed at the design you were currently working on. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Hmm?” You hummed noncommittally,  not looking away from your screen.

“Whatever you’ve been obsessed with since this lunch time, you’re decent at it.”

It was a rare praise coming from Wooyoung. You smiled, certainly happy because you genuinely needed to hear something good right now. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress. ”

He shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but then, you felt his leg touch yours as he scooted even closer. “What’s it for anyway?”

You didn’t respond right away. “Portfolio,” you replied robotically, your mouth doing your work for you. Your mind just wasn’t there; the words, notes, and deadlines loomed upon you.  It was easy to get lost into this rhythm and forget your surroundings, including Wooyoung.

Until your laptop was suddenly shut down. You looked up, startled, to see Wooyoung’s hand still on the lid of your laptop, having just shut it close. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on you. “You’re not busy right now,” he said, tone flat but final. “You’re with me.”

He wasn’t asking. You wanted to argue, mostly because you really wanted to get some work done. It was what set you apart from your co-workers, it was what made you ahead of the curve. 

You sighed, setting your laptop aside on the bedside table. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Wooyoung shifted, one knee bent lazily, head tilting toward you. “I’m just saying, you’re so tense,” he makes random gestures with his hand. “You need to get laid, or something. Blow off some steam, you know?”

You choked on your own breath, turning sharply toward him. “Excuse me?”

Your face went up in flames as your heart began to fumble. You could feel the heat blooming in your chest, crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in something unforgiving. It felt criminal, the way your body reacted. The way the suggestion rooted itself somewhere deep inside you, unsettling and uninvited, curling like smoke around the idea of him.

Wooyoung leaned closer, peering at you with exaggerated curiosity. “This is so entertaining. I say one thing about sex and suddenly your whole system reboots.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, face still on fire. “Be for fucking real, Wooyoung. You can’t just lay that on me.”

He raised a brow at your crude language, but shrugged anyway. “Come on. Don’t be two-faced, you’re acting like you’ve never used someone as a means to make yourself feel better at one point. ”

“Kinda hard when nobody has ever finished you off once,” you gritted your teeth. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too late. You slapped your mouth so hard it stung. Oh, you wish this Earth would swallow you whole.

Wooyoung’s eyes were so widened to the point that he looked like his soul had momentarily left his body through his pupils. “That has to be some bullshit,” he began, sounding uncertain, himself. “That has to be—”

“It’s not like I’m broken or anything,” you added quickly, like you were trying to defend something you weren’t even sure you believed. “I-It’s just the men I’ve been with have been selfish. They, uh, assume I’m fine. And I don’t really speak up, so…”

You trailed off, biting the inside of your cheek. “I guess I just got used to faking it.”

There. You said it. Might as well set the whole house on fire. You glanced at him, ready for the smirk, the joke, the playful jab you always braced yourself for, but Wooyoung was quiet. 

His silence felt intentional. He was thinking. His eyes didn’t leave your face. They flicked down to your lips for a second, then back up, like he was scanning every inch of you for a crack in the surface. 

You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, barely visible, but there. His fingers curled into the blanket between you, slow and restrained, like he was grounding himself. You saw him eye the way your hands clasp together so hard, your fingers turn pale and white.

“That’s not right, Y/N. That’s not normal,” he finally said, his voice low, barely above a murmur. “May I?”

You found yourself scrambling backwards the bed as Wooyoung started crawling forward, his entire body encasing yours as he got on top of you, his hands holding the entire expanse of either of your waist. He was looking down at you with such fondness in his eyes that it momentarily stole your breath away.

“I’m trying really hard not to say something I can’t take back,” he added after a beat, voice a little rougher now. “Because right now? I kinda want to prove every one of those assholes wrong.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t move, but the way he looked at you felt more intimate than anything else could’ve in that moment, like he was offering something without saying it outright, and he was giving you the chance to take it or walk away.

It was a no-brainer for you - you’ve never wanted anything this bad in your entire life.  It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint why - Wooyoung and the way he moved that made him who he was, the things he’s experienced, his voice and the way he told his stories, the way your heart just clung to him.

You thanked him a couple of nights ago for finding you, but you should have thanked him for far more than that. After all, as many times as Wooyoung made it clear he doesn’t like rich people, he still stuck around you and he let you stick to him as well. He didn’t have to say it outright, it wasn’t very difficult to figure it out on your end.

“Don’t think too hard, dollface,” he whispered. “I promise to make it good for you. And I want you to know that I won’t treat this like I treat my clients even if you’re technically still paying for my time for it.”

That didn’t even cross your mind, but admittedly, you did completely forget that this was his job. “Remember when you asked me what my hobby was and I told you it was swimming?” Wooyoung softly asked. You nodded and his eyes softened. “I won’t let you sink. Not like this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you said softly. “How do I know that, though?”

“Well, for one,” he whispered. “I’ve never kissed my clients. Ever. Not once, and I’ve had people offer me a fuck ton of money.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You lifted your head to meet his lips even though you were quivering. He was surprised at first, but he soon fell into a rhythm when he groaned softly in your mouth as his hands started to roam under your shirt. Your breaths came in short gasps but he had no problem swallowing those sounds from you.

“You sound so pretty,” he murmured in between kisses, the trail of saliva connecting your lips serving to turn the both of you on as evident in the way his hardness started pressing onto your clothed core. 

You hummed, never having felt an arousal like you did at this moment. Heat courses through your veins, especially when he started to move down your neck, kissing and sucking on your most sensitive spots.

“Feels good, Woo,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands finding their way onto his hair to mindlessly tug on them. You didn’t dare open your eyes, afraid that if you did, this dream would suddenly vanish from your sights.

“Yeah?” Wooyoung mouthed against your skin, his kisses not once stopping as his hand lifted your back slightly so his other hand would fiddle on your bra until it came off. Only for him to freeze when he realized you were wearing none.

“Oh, W-Wooyoung,” you gasped in surprise when he suddenly lifted your shirt up to your chin to expose your ample breasts, the cold air automatically stiffening your sensitive nipples. 

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed and embarrassed of the way Wooyoung was drinking the sight of your naked chest up with so much lust. Compared to him, you were highly inexperienced in this regard. Not the sex part, you were no longer a virgin, but in the foreplay aspect. You’ve never had a man do it to you before.

“Don’t,” he coaxed softly, his hand prying yours away. “Don’t shy away from me now, baby.”

“I’m not the best in the looks department,” you blurted out. “You’ve been with better looking women during…you know.”

“You might be right,” he said, both his hands palming your tits and kneading them expertly. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, especially in the way he relished your expressions with a small smirk. “But, none of them are you.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening just a little, but his words lingered, settling somewhere deep inside you.

Wooyoung leaned down to, once again, kiss your neck until he slowly moved down to your chest, sucking and biting the skin between your tits. You moaned loudly when his tongue slid out to sensually lick your hardened nipples, not hesitating to push your chest up towards his warm mouth, almost begging him to suck on them harder.

“So pretty, baby,” he growled, his mouth closing around your aching nipples, his tongue lightly flicking over it back and forth, making you squirm against his hold. “Too much?”

“N-No, keep going,” you gasped when he grazed his teeth on your nipple. “J-Just overwhelmed.”

He hummed, pausing as he looked at you through his lashes. The sight was so erotic, it made you hiss in pleasure, bucking your hips more to his touch. 

Your heart felt a rush of excitement, it kept you craving for more. Wooyoung latches his lips back to yours, deepening this kiss immediately by parting your lips with his tongue, coaxing you to play and intertwining your tongues together. You felt feverish, your lust for this man spiking higher towards different heights.

You almost didn’t feel his fingers toying with your underwear, but when you did, you took the initiative to take all the barriers that stopped him from touching your core. Wooyoung sighs in approval, not breaking the kiss. 

His fingers don’t hesitate to brush against your clit. The sensation was electrifying, your body almost giving out all at once with just one single touch. However, you tense when his fingers start to dip down your hole. He senses your hesitancy and moves on to kiss down your neck, nibbling the skin to calm your senses.

“Shh, it’s okay, I got you,” he whispered as you felt him circle around the outside of your quivering hole. “I promised you, dollface. I got you, you believe me, right?”

You draw in a deep breath, whimpering an answer since your tongue seemed too tied to even speak. His other hand continues to caress your hips, further calming your body down until you feel yourself release all the tension. It was all it took for Wooyoung to breach inside you.

Wooyoung’s fingers were gentle, taking his time to stretch you out slowly. You moan loudly, he was very considerate about it, too, but the pleasure he was giving you was immeasurable. You’ve never felt like this before, never had someone reach that specific spot that had you writhing in satisfaction.

You could feel his smirk against your neck, his teeth biting and nipping you at random places, eagerly leaving you with love marks you hoped wouldn’t fade for a while. Each mark said one thing, and one thing only - you’re mine.

“W-Woo, mmm, I-I feel weird and tingly,” you whimpered as you closed your eyes tightly instead of the one thing you wanted to tell him - I’m yours.

“Relax, baby, breathe,” he instructed, suddenly bending his fingers up to hit a spot so sensitive, it had you crying out against his hold. “Let it go for me.”

That was how you got your very orgasm from just foreplay. Your mind exploded, a searing, lightning-like pleasure erupting behind your eyes. It left every muscle in your body spent and worn out.

You were a panting mess when he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed your head tenderly, peppering your faces with little kisses, all the while whispering ‘good girl, good girl, good girl’ over and over again in between the kitten kisses he was giving you.

While you were still recovering, Wooyoung shifted, his strong arms lifting your back as he lifted you up with ease so now you were situated on top of him. You gasped, settling your hands on his chest like you’ve always belonged on top of him like this.

You blushed when he tapped your thighs twice, prompting you to sit up a little so he could take his pants and boxers off. You swallowed, feeling his hard cock pressing up your wetness when you sat back down, his arousal coating your labia and mixing in with yours. 

“Take me,” he whispered, his hold on your hips tightening with unspoken tension. “This is your justice, dollface. Take your pleasure for me for all the ones you’ve never gotten before.”

Your breath caught, your fingers curled into his shoulders, and for a second, you couldn’t move, not because you didn’t want to, but because something about the way he said it bloomed fire in your lungs.

There was that familiar burn behind your eyes. Wooyoung wasn’t offering himself just for the sake of it - he was giving something back.

You bit your lip when he lifted you slightly, his other hand guiding his cock to your entrance. His gaze stayed on you, unwavering, almost reverent. “Let them take, but let me give,” he murmured, finally lowering you onto his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Wooyoung, fuck,” you gasped when you felt his cock reach all the way up. He felt good, divine even.

He started thrusting up and down, with you matching his pace after as you rode him, your feelings lost as your mind started to go blank at the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

“Oh, Y/N,” Wooyoung says, like it’s the only word that’s ever mattered - drawn out, cracked at the edges, reverent in its ruin. The sound lands on you like heat and thunder, blooming into shivers that tear through you without mercy.

You arched your back, Wooyoung’s hands keeping you in place, your hips and tits bouncing up and down along with the motion as you impaled yourself on Wooyoung’s cock over and over again. There was no holding back for you, not anymore, your moans filling the entire room as you kept pushing yourself further, moving faster.

“Look at you,” he groaned, gazing up at you with impassioned eyes and the little sparks of affection through them. “You're heaven sent, Y/N. My God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my fucking eyes on. Fuck me, keep going - yes.”

All the things that matter that you wanted to say die in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to tell Wooyoung, your chest overflowing with feelings you’ve never dared name, let alone think about. It’s all too much yet nothing because not once in your life had you had someone make you feel like this before.

Not until some sex worker walked through your door by mistake one day then everything shifts and gives your life what it was missing.

You felt your thigh muscles getting tired, but you kept pushing, riding his cock, even though the way you ground your hips to him felt more uncoordinated than anything. As if he was taking mercy on you, he braces himself and with one strong push of his hips, he began fucking up onto you.

“Wooyoung!” 

“I love the way you say my damn name,” he growled as he continued to thrust up at you, and all you could do was whimper while his throbbing cock was all you felt.

Your tits bounce with every, almost painful thrust while your pussy clenches and flutters around his rigid erection. Your eyes roll back, and your moan is hoarse and breathless as you say his name just the way he liked it. The effect was immediate and you could tell that he was close to chasing his own orgasm with you.

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come,” you whimpered pathetically, giving up and letting Wooyoung take control.

“Are you?” Wooyoung smirked, having the audacity to chuckle at your predicament.

You whined, your pleasure clouding your judgment as you started to feel annoyed with him. “W-Wooyoung, please—”

“Relax, baby,” he chuckled. It quickly turned into a snarl when he pulled you down on himself and you started to flutter and tighten against his aching cock. “I’m not gonna last long either, dollface, come for me, I wanna see you.”

Your body tensed up, your back arching like the string of a bow, then suddenly, you released, stronger than your first, the pleasure overtaking your shame and you screamed Wooyoung’s name so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard your voice from somewhere in the distance.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re beautiful,” he panted, tapping your thighs again. “Off, baby, off. I’m gonna come, fuck.”

You watched as he stroked his cock, all in its perfectly curved glory, until cum shot off from it, landing on his chest as he moaned loudly, his voice louder than you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, shit, shit, shit, Y/N…”

You both lay there, side by side, suspended in the hush that only comes after something intimate has unraveled between two people.

The sheets were warm, tangled somewhere around your legs. His fingers, calloused but careful, brushed faintly against yours, until he pulled you and kissed you deeper than any silence that’s ever tried to swallow you whole. 

He sighs deeply in contentment, embracing you. It was tighter than any fear you’ve known, and it was suffocating yet somehow freeing. You just held onto him, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Was it everything you wanted?” Wooyoung whispered.

You hummed an answer, staying quiet as you didn’t want to tell him what you really thought in your head.

You were everything I wanted.

Just as the silence thickened, your phone rang, sharp and intrusive, slicing through the stillness between you like an unwelcome guest. The sound was jarring, you had to pull away from Wooyoung’s warmth and get your phone, but your heart stilled when you saw Mingi’s familiar number on the screen.

“Hello? Mingi?” You asked tentatively. Wooyoung’s brow raises, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I am sorry to interrupt your night, Y/N,” Mingi said, voice audibly tired. “Can you come to the office real quick? We have an emergency, it’s about your branch.”

You frowned. It was odd. Your branch hasn’t really contacted you, so why did Mingi? He was a director of another branch, it didn’t make any sense. 

“I’ll be there,” you said before hanging up and looking at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “You heard that, I think. I’m sorry, Woo.”

Wooyoung’s gaze flicked to yours, unreadable for a heartbeat. Then he nodded, slow and steady, but the way his jaw tensed told you more than his expression did. “You gotta do what you gotta do, it’s fine.”

He watched as you got dressed, but it didn’t feel right. You had no desire to go, but he was right - you had to do what you had to do. Despite yourself, you rushed towards the bed, grabbing Wooyoung’s face urgently, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. You had to let him know. “I’ll come back to you.”

He stared at you for a moment. “I believe you,” he simply said. 

You never had an attachment to that house, not at all, but tonight, it was difficult to leave. Not when you could feel Wooyoung’s lips attached to your lips and his hands imprinted on your skin. You couldn’t wait to go back, especially since he will be waiting for you.

But it all came crashing down when you met Mingi. You will never forget the feeling of devastation from all the high when he told you that your branch will be firing every single employee and higher ups, minus you and some others to rebrand and weed out all the people that have been tanking your company’s sales.

That meant that you had to go back a month earlier than planned.

You don’t remember the journey back to the house. When you opened the door, Wooyoung was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed with that unreadable look in his eyes, just waiting for you. You couldn’t look him in the eye - you didn’t want to see his reaction.

But when you do, the look in your face told the both of you everything you needed to know. You looked at him, and he looked at you, and you both saw it.

Wooyoung does something differently this time when you book him. Instead of going with what you want, he asks you to go with him - to the tattoo shop. You don’t know what he gets, just patiently waiting in the lobby, until you go back to the house and he lets you see it.

I’m not alone and I will never be. Your fingers were shaking as you traced the words that now laid at the back of his neck, careful not to disturb the protective wrap around it. You were pretty sure he could feel it.

There was a thin, unspoken thread that wrapped the entire room. You knew those words from weeks prior as you were the one who said them. Your heart thudded unevenly against your ribs. “Thanks for taking me, it suits you,” you complimented him softly.

He finally turned around, eyes meeting yours, holding all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him. “Thanks for coming with me, I guess,” he shrugged.

A sudden silence ensued, like the seconds were stretching just to hold off what was coming. How could you even begin to say anything? How do you wrap finality in a sentence? How do you make something sound casual when your throat is tight and your time is running out?

All you could do was stand there and memorize the shape of him - his beautiful tattoos, his dark hair that covered his forehead in a complimentary way, his boyish charm, the curve of his hand that fit well with yours. “What changed?” You asked, barely a whisper. “You didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t want to like you,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “You were everything I didn’t have room for - hell, you were everything I wasn’t in this life and I still resent that.”

You let out a trembling breath. Wooyoung purses his lips, combing his hands on his hair. “People like you felt too much, yet nothing at the same time. And you were just like me. In essence…it really is just you as a person, Y/N. You hear me?”

He holds your chin, tilting it up to meet his obscure eyes. “It’s just you,” he repeated softly.

You smiled, a little crooked and cracked around the corners. “Just me.”

For you, it was just him, as well, and perhaps, that was the hardest part. It was one of the things that you admire about this man; he was very resolute in everything he said, like he already knew things before they happened. Like right now, the look in his eyes shone with acceptance.

Wooyoung smiled back, pushing your chin higher to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “The truth was,” he murmured. “Everytime we kissed, it felt like we were practicing how to let go.”

That pierced your heart like an arrow lodging deep in your chest, but you couldn’t get yourself to disagree. Kisses with Wooyoung never felt like beginnings - they were echoes of an ending you were too afraid to name.

“Did you know?” You asked, your smile wavering as you tried not to hold on to him, the shaking of your hands too much to feel even for you.

Wooyoung nodded. “I did.”

“So why’d you still do it, then? Why, when you knew?”

Wooyoung sighed, holding your face in his hands tenderly as if he was afraid that you’d break down if he didn’t. “Remember when I told you about my choices? The things I choose to do rather than not do?”

You nodded, gritting your teeth so hard to control yourself, Wooyoung had to massage your jaws to make you stop. You brought your hands to him and he held onto them without leaving your face. “I’m glad to have known you, Y/N,” he squeezed your hands. “I’m glad you proved me wrong in every aspect possible.”

Your lips parted, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you just let your eyes speak for you, and he understood. “This is it for us, this is all we’re going to get, but regardless, I’m glad I met you.”

We’ve always been on borrowed time, anyway.

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m glad too, Wooyoung. I’m very glad to meet you.”

“You have your life, and I have mine,” he shrugged, his rigid shoulders betraying what he truly felt. “And we have to live with that. It’s the one thing all of us have in common whether you’re dirt poor or filthy rich - we just have to live out the consequences of the life we choose for ourselves. There is no way around it.”

You snorted, adoration coming through since it was such a him thing to say. “You make it sound so simple.”

He half-shrugged again, this time with the ghost of a smirk. “Maybe because it is. It’s just how the world turns, Y/N. And you,” he tilted his head, eyes sharp with meaning. “You know that better than most.”

You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, because only Wooyoung could say something like that with such maddening certainty - as if the world was some fixed machine with gears we were all doomed to turn, no matter how loud we screamed beneath the grinding. 

But he wouldn’t be wrong. You did know better than most. The world never stopped for anybody, and it certainly wouldn’t stop for the two of you.

“There’s, uh,” you paused, clearing your throat. “There’s a huge possibility we won’t see each other again, Wooyoung. My company is having a do-over, I might get shipped somewhere else.”

He nodded, eyes elsewhere. “It is what it is, Y/N. It’s something you have to live with. You and I both.”

“So that’s it?” You asked quietly, the words trembling like they’d walked barefoot over every memory you’d made with him. “You just live with it?”

His eyes met yours again. “No,” he said, softer now. “You carry it. Every day. In the silence. In the in-between. You carry it until it stops hurting, or until you stop noticing the weight.”

Right.

You watch Wooyoung, the way the light catches in his eyes. There’s hope in it, but there’s hurt too, layered and quiet, like a secret he doesn’t mind being seen but refuses to say out loud.

It wasn’t anything dramatic; it’s just how life worked sometimes. You meet someone, sometimes they don’t stay, and you both keep living. Most of the time, your paths cross only once and never again. You bit your lip, deep in thought. “What are you going to do then, Woo?” 

Wooyoung smiles, the kind of mournful fondness that almost breaks you. “Let live, and let die. I’ll do what I do best, and that is to keep moving forward. The process will be painful, but I’ll have to make do with what I have and work around it.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. It prompts you to do the same. “I’ll try my best to fight what I can control, and then learn how to surrender to the ones I can’t. This is one of those moments, my little doll. It was very easy to go along with this, but it was very difficult not to surrender to the race against our clock.”

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips staying there as he speaks. There was a sick part of you that wishes he’d leave a permanent mark on your skin somewhere.

“I don’t want to fully know every part of you, and I know that sounds unfair,” Wooyoung began. “Doing so means watching every piece of that knowledge walk away when you go. It’s easier this way, because if I did learn everything in the span of the three months you were here, I’m not sure I’ll survive watching that all go away in an instant.”

“I’ve already been through a lot in this fucking lifetime,” he said. “I’m through, you know? Maybe it’s better to leave some mystery. Maybe that’s how I’ll keep a part of you, even when you’re gone.”

His lips travel down, kissing both of your eyes this time as if he was searing this moment directly in your brain. “If somehow the odds are in my favour, I’ll find you again.”

A tightness gripped your chest, a weight pressing down, suffocating and relentless. It felt like every piece of you was unraveling, each thread pulling at the seams of your composure.

Your throat constricted, as if a flood was gathering the very same eyes he kissed. “Are you telling me to wait for you?”

“No,” he instantly rejected. “Absolutely not, Y/N. Never wait for something you are unsure of, please. Do yourself that favour. Do me that favour. I can’t have you waiting for me when I’m not even sure I can deliver.”

So, what do you want?

His grip on your face tightens ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll get out of this city. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll make it out alive, not when every day here feels like a losing fight.”

“So,” he continued. “Let me remember you how I remember you right now, because if your memory is the only thing that’ll keep me going for the rest of my life, I’ll do it. I will always remember you, Y/N. Even if we don’t see each other again.”

Your fingers twitched, curling into fists, as if you could stop the feeling by holding yourself together. “What if I end up falling for someone else along the way?”

Wooyoung pauses, and for a second, your heart rate picks up. “If you've found someone else that will make you happy, then I will be thankful for it. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t, and if it doesn’t work out, then you move on. See where that takes you after.”

You understood. Not all souls were meant to cross paths in this lifetime. There was only so much you could learn about Wooyoung, and even then, you feel like you still didn’t know him at all. Heck, there were people who have been together for far, far longer and they still learn something new about each other every single day. And while you believed that to be beautiful, you didn’t know where that left you with Wooyoung.

You knew he couldn’t answer all the questions you were throwing at him. Life was unpredictable like that, even the most realistic person out there like Jung Wooyoung didn’t have the answers for everything.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t want to learn everything about Wooyoung, either. If anything, you wanted to begin to forget him as soon as possible so if destiny does move in the funniest of ways, falling back into him would feel twice as sweet and more so emotional on your ends.

Or maybe you wouldn’t even remember who he was anymore down the road. It was another part the both of you didn’t know yet. 

But alas, you’ll just have to see where life takes you because for now, the both of you didn’t have any room for love to grow. If Wooyoung finds you again like he did that night, then you’d go from there.

After much deliberation on his end, he gives in, his lips finally touching yours with a kiss that holds unspoken promises. He coaxed out the three words that laid on the tip of your tongue with his. They ached to break free, to give him the truth he deserved to hear from you.

Would that be the right thing to do, though?

It would be very selfish on your end, to leave him with those parting words, but damn it, if you haven’t been selfless all your life. 

Fuck it.

But before you could get the words past your lips, he raised a hand, a gentle but firm stop. He pulled away, his eyes meeting yours with a depth that made your heart stutter.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet carrying the gravity of a thousand unspoken emotions. “Not yet. Please.”

It was what he said that had the dam that contained all your emotions break and spill all the tears you’ve been trying to contain all this time. Wooyoung didn’t hesitate to wipe them with his thumbs.

“If we see each other again in the future and you still feel the same, then you can say it. But until then, keep it.” he continued. His eyes softened, filled with a quiet plea. “Give me a chance to turn my life around. Let me make it out of here and be someone I’m proud to be.”

Of all the things you’ve talked about today, that was the one thing that truly made fear settle deep in your chest. “But, I’m already proud of you,” you said, voice unyielding.

Wooyoung’s jaw tightened. "But, I’m not," he whispered, the finality in his words like a door slamming shut.

The sound of Wooyoung’s phone ringing breaks through the stillness, harsh and jarring, like a stone tossed into a quiet pond. Your heart sank, it wasn’t a phone call - it was an alarm. He had another client waiting for him somewhere.

With a quiet sigh, Wooyoung began to pull away from you. Just like that, the moment had already begun slipping like sand through an hourglass. 

For a moment, you couldn’t move, your whole body frozen in time, but when you saw Wooyoung turn around, you quickly moved to hug him from behind, pressing your face on his back. “Y/N,” he said, his hand holding yours and squeezing it.

Don’t go, please, I don’t know what to do.

Wooyoung turns around, cupping your face once more. “I know, baby, it’s hard for me, too. I have to go, but you listen to me, okay? And you listen to me well because this might be the only time I’ll ever get to say it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together in an attempt to get a hold of yourself. “Run free and wild, Y/N. You don’t belong here. This world is yours for the taking, all you have to do is make it yours. Make it worth your time when you move on to whatever the hell is next and know that you went in the end without a single regret.”

All you could do was nod again. You wanted to reach out, to scream into the silence, but all you could do was stand there as Wooyoung tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he smiled, bittersweet. “Give your company hell while I picture you in places I’ve never seen, meet people I’ll never know, live stories I won’t be a part of, and shape your own destiny in ways I won't be able to see.”

We have to fall, fall apart to work.

“And I’ll live my life wondering about what you’ll do next, here,” he takes your hand to place it where his heart was. “Even if I spend every single night doing so, just like when I spend it with you to end my days here. I don’t mind doing it for the rest of my life.”

He lets go for the final time, opening the door to walk outside, possibly forever. But, you couldn’t let go, not without giving him an option. “Choi San,” you blurted out before he completely walked away.

He halted his steps, tilting his head towards you in a way you once found endearing but now left you a finalized image of him before you parted ways. “Remember that name. He’s my new supervisor,” you swallowed a wave of new tears. “When you find yourself, please let me know.”

“Choi San,” he muttered, repeating the name as if he was marking it in his head already, training his lips to say the name over and over again for one day.

“Goodbye, Wooyoung,” you choked, the words burning through your throat.

For a second, Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and you saw the vulnerability there, the rawness of the goodbye. But then, without another word, he nodded once and turned, walking away from you, each step a little heavier than the last. 

He didn’t turn around once to look at you and you didn’t wait to see if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. You closed the door behind you, but you didn’t cry, didn’t scream. You just stood there, devastation filling in your chest, down to your feet, all without ever making a sound.

Run free, Wooyoung, so we can both start living.

You never really see each other after that even though you didn’t have to leave for another two weeks. You never went back to the bar nor did you book Wooyoung again. When you did try to call just to ease the pain, Yeosang wasn’t the one who answered. You immediately hung up.

And now, you were back on that train that took you here in the first place - the one that led you to a destination you never thought in a million years would alter the course of your life. 

There you were again, sitting alone in the train cabin, completely alone as you stared out the window and watched the passing scenarios fly by like they were nothing. You didn’t dare watch the city behind you get further and further.

It wasn’t something you were used to, you’ve always been alone all your life, but this was the first time you felt truly, utterly alone. It was some sort of poetic justice on your end; you came here alone, and therefore, you were also completely alone as you left. The only difference was, there was now something missing that you had left behind in that fancy, luxurious house - your heart.

You couldn’t bear to bring it - you didn’t want to -  hoping that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt as much without it. But even without it, the emptiness remained, lingering like a ghost in the corners of your soul.

The only way was forward at this point, the regrets would prove to be fruitless. The idea of embracing whatever comes, living fully, yet knowing that the end will eventually come for everything was daunting, but you had to do what you had to do. 

You will live fully, knowing that one day, you’ll let go. But until that moment comes, you embrace every second, because those moments, no matter how short or long, are the only things truly within your control.

To live and to let die. That was what you were going to do.

You bowed respectfully towards the people that surrounded the round table as their claps filled the meeting room. Another smile later, the meeting and presentations for the future designs in collaboration with a sister company was fully conducted.

“Great as always, Y/N,” your boss grinned at you as he began to approach you, setting your portfolio and tucking it under his arms so he could give you the handshake you deserved. “I don’t know how you do it, I really don’t. It never did feel right that I was your boss instead of the other way around even after all these years.”

You shook your head, jokingly rolling your eyes. Thankfully, you had a wonderful enough relationship with your supervisor that you could get away with this. “Oh, stop it, San. You know that’s just untrue. Your ideas have always been trend-setting. I just so happen to know how to make those come to life.”

People who were passing by from the meeting room bowed to both of you and San, but more so, they’d either praise you, or they would just use that as an excuse to ogle at the wonder that was Choi San. You understood, you really did. San was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Hell, it took you a while to get used to the fact that he was, indeed, your supervisor and not one of the company’s models. It didn’t really help that the man was humble and kind.

He tugs on his shirt sleeve, peering at the time attached to his wrists in the form of a watch. “Company lunch to celebrate with everyone, on me, in thirty minutes downtown at that new restaurant,” he clicked his tongue. “Go this time, yeah? I need my best designer to unwind and be well fed.”

You scoffed softly, about to say something, when he interrupts. “I’m serious, Y/N,” San said, his voice dropping to whisper. “We won’t launch the portfolio for another month. Take a break. You’re good at what you do.”

You’re good at what you do.

You froze, the statement echoing in your head. The sound of those words, they sound so familiar. The memory teases you, just out of reach, like a shadow too fast to catch.

“Oh, by the way,” San stopped you before you walked away. “Come see me at my office after. There’s a package that came that’s addressed to you.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away, as you always did. It was easier not to think about it, to keep moving, to keep working, to bury the feeling under a mountain of new ideas. But it never quite went away. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, a text from one of your coworkers, confirming the time and place for lunch. You read it, typed a quick reply, and shoved the phone back into your bag. The noise, the movement, the busyness - none of it ever filled that void.

Lunch wasn’t bad at all, your coworkers were great company after all, but you couldn’t concentrate. You were supposed to be here at the moment, but you just can’t. You had made a name for yourself in the fashion industry after three years of working hard, but none of it ever mattered to you.

“When do you think they’ll close the restaurant for the bar tonight?” You absentmindedly asked your nearest coworker, who was sitting across from you.

They looked at you confused, even going as far as to wait for you to reiterate your statement. “Uhm, I don’t think that’s a thing around here, if not ever,” they frowned. “That would be great, though, do you know a place like that?”

You blinked, caught off guard, embarrassed all of a sudden. “N-No, I think you’re right. I don’t know where that thought process came from. I apologize.”

Yeah, maybe San was right after all - you definitely needed a break. Maybe it was just a side effect of being a designer. You were constantly moving and evolving, after all.

As promised, when you got to San’s fancy office, there was a package waiting for you. You held it curiously in your hand, tossing and shaking the box around to gauge what was inside it. There was no sender name written, only yours and the office’s address.

“Any idea what it is?” San asked with one brow raised, work phone on the other hand while the other paused from signing multiple documents.

You shrugged. “Not really. Anyway, I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He waved you off dismissively, not even bothering you look up as he began to speak to whoever just called him. Fine by you. The package was probably the fabric you ordered a while back for your new piece to add to your portfolio.

The apartment was quiet when you got there. It was heavy with the hum of a long, restless afternoon. You’ve been living in this studio apartment for only a year, but you love it. It was definitely an upgrade from your old apartment, but the biggest reason you loved it here was because you had plenty of space to sew and design a lot of things.

And you were excited. You’ve been waiting for this new fabric for a while now, but when you tore the package open, you were confused to see that it wasn’t the vibrant red you were anticipating. No, this was a faded blue.

What’s more was that it wasn’t a slab of fabric. You gingerly took it out, even more confused when you saw a lace crop top. Odd, you thought as your fingers brushed over the top. It was nice, very genderless in concept, but why was it sent to you?

Had you made this? You closed your eyes shut, a memory just beyond reach plaguing your head. You had designed countless pieces over the years, each one blurring into the next, but this one? This one was different. 

Maybe it was the forgotten details that seemed to belong to someone else. You couldn’t remember the last time you'd seen it, let alone made it. Your style had changed so much over the years, but there was something about this piece, something familiar.

When you lifted it up to inspect it, something fell out from the seams. You picked it up, surprised to see that it was a neatly folded piece of paper - a note, it seems.

‘If this reaches L/N Y/N, please call this number - XXX-XXX-XXX. If not, return to the sender.’

Your heart skipped. There was an urgency you couldn’t explain. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed the number. The ring felt like an eternity, the seconds stretching into the unspoken, until a voice finally picked up.

“Hello. If you have a tattoo appointment, I’ll redirect you to your artist. This is the owner speaking, how may I help you?”

You were thoroughly confused now, you don’t have tattoos and you don’t see yourself getting one in the near future, but your chest tightened, that distant familiarity stirring in it.

“Uh, hi. I got sent a package that said I had to call this number,” you mumbled, walking to the windowsill of your apartment that overlooked the moon and the stars. 

There was silence on the other end, long and deafening. It was to the point that you had to double check if the call was still connected. The only reason why you knew it was was that there were external noises on the phone, assuming that whoever was on the other end was moving. “Hello?” You tried again.

The movement stopped, the call completely silent this time. Then, there was a quiet inhale, sharp and uneven, like whoever was on the other end had just remembered how to breathe, before it was followed by a sniffle and a low chuckle.

“It’s you,” the voice, a man, said softly. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your breath hitched. That voice. It was the one you kept hearing whenever you’d remember something. You knew there should be a face attached to that voice in your head, but nothing. The hollow ache grew a little deeper, a little more urgent, until it was almost unbearable. You could feel it pressing against your chest, like a hand reaching out to you, demanding attention. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Who is this?” 

The man lets out a low chuckle again, only this time, it sounded more affectionate. It caught you off guard. By God, you wanted to remember so badly, but you didn’t know where to start. You began to wrack your brain for something, anything.

You didn’t know what you were searching for. However, through these years, you’ve always had this sinking feeling that someone, somewhere was out there waiting for you; somewhere in the quiet spaces between the thoughts you’ve tried to bury deep down.

The feeling was there. It was always there. You couldn’t say what you’d lost - only that something was missing.

“Tell me, my little doll,” he clicked his tongue. You could almost picture it. “Did you get to do what you were meant to do all these years?”

That was another blow to your chest. Doll. Little doll. Dollface. Your blood rushed to your ears, the voice starting to curl into your memory now, like smoke filling in every crack of a closed room.

“I suppose so,” you shrugged. Without thinking, your mouth blurted out that first thing that came into your head. “You? Did you manage to find yourself?”

You could hear the way he exhaled. It was slow and careful, like he was trying to keep himself together. “I did. It took me a while, but I did.”

There was something about the way he said it; the way his voice dropped slightly at the end. You stared outside to the twinkling stars. Something about them pulled you. And then suddenly, you could see visions of him.

The way he stood on the rooftop, hands in his pockets, staring at the same sky. A smirk would follow, one that felt like home and like something you’d never really gotten to fully know all at once.

You could picture him now - not just the shape of him, but him. The tired lines around his eyes. The tattoos that were etched beautifully on his skin. The way he’d tilt his head when you were speaking. His nonchalant and indifferent attitude towards things.

“I can hear your thoughts from where I am, you know? I really could,” he murmured. His voice felt too much now that you’ve pulled him out from deep inside you where you stored him in hopes of preventing all the hurt all these years. “You still remember the quiet parts of me.”

“There was a point in my life where I forgot your face,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“That’s okay. You used to close your eyes and trace it with your fingers, anyway.”

Your eyes stung, not even realizing tears were forming until one slid down your cheek. You inhaled sharply but you  didn’t speak. You knew. You knew what was coming next.

“We lived and let die, Y/N. We made it,” his voice was gentle, coaxing you out of the shell you’ve crawled into for safe haven. “The question is, do you still feel the same? Because I do. I never forgot that feeling.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. It was shaky and wet with tears and it caught you by surprise. You tried to suppress it but the relief bloomed too fast. It was the sound of a weight lifting off your chest after years of carrying it in silence.

“Yes, Wooyoung. I still feel the same about you.”

On the other end of the line, there was no reply. Just the sound of him exhaling, quiet, and disbelieving, like hearing his name from your lips was all he’d been waiting for.

Then Wooyoung laughed. It was warm and raw and full of something that sounded like finally. You could hear him wiping at his face, hear the way it caught in his throat.

“What now?” You asked after a while. Your voice was still raw, but it was also lighter at the same time.

There was a pause, just long enough for you to wonder if maybe Wooyoung hadn’t heard you. Then he spoke, his voice as steady and sure as ever. “You could look down.”

You were confused at his request, but you did as told. You pressed your hands and face by the glass window and peered down. At first, all you saw was the busy road and some cars passing by, but then, your entire world stopped when your gaze landed on the sidewalk. Wooyoung.

You could tell it was him even from this distance. The same posture, the same silhouette. But he looked different. More polished, more alive, somehow. His hair was shorter, styled neatly, and his face was more refined, like time had carved away some of the youth and left something more certain, more grounded.

He held his phone in his ear as his eyes found yours through the reflection of the glass. And there was a smile on his face, so subtle, but it was there. 

“Oh my God, Wooyoung,” you choked out. More tears found their way up your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on your lips. 

Wooyoung wasn’t faring better. From this distance, you could see his eyes gloss out, his unshed tears audible on the other end.

He smiled, wider this time, up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled like the stars did when he found you three years ago on the rooftop. “I guess the odds were in my favour, after all.”

You covered your mouth, torn between laughing and breaking apart entirely. You must’ve looked crazy. “Yeah. Yeah, they were.”

Your chest tightened, the simplicity of it all striking deeper than you expected. He wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t begging you to come down.

He was just there, looking up at you from the sidewalk like he had been waiting for you for quite some time now.

And it was enough.

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @dove-net @othersideoutlawsnetwork @hiraya-m @illusionnet @pirateeznet

Dividers by: @enchantings-a

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was in third grade I got Weird with writing. It makes sense in hindsight. Oppressed people find their own ways of carving out space for themselves.

The first bit I did landed me in trouble more immediately. I was given, god knows by who, one of those enormous giant pencils. I loved it. My tiny nine year old body was consumed with love of this pencil that was roughly 1/3 of my height. I insisted that I would only use this pencil in school.

It was an unlucky year to be stricken with whimsy. My third grade teacher was a tyrannical Japanese woman fueled by her dislike of children. I suspect the cultural divide between how she expected children to behave and the reality of American children broke her.

She was three foot nothing and getting berated by her was the first time I’d ever looked down at an adult. I also saw her once standing next to her white 6’ behemoth of a husband and tried to conceptualize how two such disparate people had sex. I never could.

If you think I’m exaggerating her wrath it’s worth noting that my best friend at the time developed a stress disorder from this woman and I fell into a bizarre stutter that cleared up the moment I was out of class. In her classroom breaking down crying was a weekly occurrence.

But despite the frigid conditions, I persevered. I stayed silly. I brought my enormous novelty pencil to class every day. It was an act of rebellion that I sank my teeth into and refused to let go. I could barely sharpen it because its girth defied standard sharpeners the way I defied my teacher. This was my pencil.

When she attempted to confiscate my giant pencil I rose an unholy ruckus. This would not turn into the confiscated holographic Charizard, my tamagotchi, or my little pop frogs that she never returned to me. No. This was my goddamn pencil. There was no rules against enormous novelty pencils and after a heated week of debate she finally conceded I could use the hated thing.

It was stolen by my kleptomaniac friend a week or so after that a fact I’d only discover at the end of the year. But my tiny mind was convinced the evil teacher had stolen it.

In retaliation, instead of resuming normal behavior I decided that I would do all my writing upside down and backwards. No one, least of all myself, could explain why I felt this was necessary. Maybe I felt I’d be cool like a spy, maybe I just needed to buck the teachers hateful authority, or maybe I was just a little autistic kid.

When taking notes or writing essays I’d arrange the paper to be upside down. It may surprise you to know that my penmanship was actually quite decent, albeit I wrote a little more slowly than my classmates. That’s why it took the teacher a while to realize what was going on. There wasn’t a drop in the quality of my writing.

Unsurprisingly she hated it when she found out. She lambasted me both privately and in front of the class to write normally. I asked if my writing was illegible. She had to admit that no, it was not. I shrugged. I did not see a problem.

Like the pencil my new writing fixation was cited as being a distraction to the other children. But similarly she didn’t have an easy way to make me stop. She marked me down, gave me several talking tos, and generally bullied me into writing like everyone else.

All attempts at correcting me simply ran off my back. I had found a way to cope with how miserable she made all of us, by inflicting misery back upon her. I was unswayed for the rest of the year.

When I graduated up into fourth grade and had a teacher I adored it suddenly stopped. I looked at the paper and thought, Well that’s silly, and flipped it the right way round.

I can still write upside down, though, a testament to my worst year in public school.

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (7)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: this chapter is also unedited. sorry y'all

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Sunghoon has grown far more bold ever since having dinner with him for the second time. You don't shy away or make a fuss about it when the two of you are alone together, and it scares you just how much you enjoy being in his company without the pretext of making sure he’s on track to succeed at his job. 

He calls you after work to talk about anything but for the first time. Sunghoon keeps you company on the phone while you make dinner, and the two of you remain on the line while you brush your teeth before putting yourself to bed. He does the same, too, informing you of his meal and that he’s the kind of guy who needs a sweet treat before he goes to bed. 

He’s just as bold on the phone as he is in person. 

“Is it bad that I want to touch you?” 

“What?” 

“I just…I miss touching you. I’ll go crazy if I’m not near you.”

“You’re insane. Are you drunk?”

“Stone cold sober,” he tells you when you’ve settled into your sheets. It sounds like Sunghoon’s rustling in his bed sheets to sit up and rest against his headboard. “Can’t believe you’re so far from me.”

Is it normal for you to get worked up over Sunghoon’s voice? 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about the night you slept over. God, you were so wet. You look really good when you come and you sound even better.”

His words echo in your mind and you grow more aroused with every word spoken. Sunghoon speaks like he’s got the raw honest truth that needs to be shared, or else it’ll make him go mad. His voice is breathy and light. It almost makes you think he’s troubled by it. You sit upright, too. Your pillows act as a brace for your back as you cross your legs and keep your phone by your ear.  

“I can’t stop thinking about eating you out in your office either. Do you know how long I’ve been fantasizing about that? I can’t believe you let me eat it during work hours.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. More times than I’d like to admit.”

“H-How long?”

Sunghoon lets out a breathy laugh. “Years, maybe. Definitely when you came into the office wearing the long purple dress. You looked so good waiting for me.”

You can’t help when you clench around nothing and roll your hips in the air. There’s no doubt your cunt is sopping wet by Sunghoon’s words alone, and his confession leaves you aching for his touch. 

“I don’t know what it was about that dress. It was backless. You wore high heels, too. The kind I’d never seen you wear before. You looked different than you usually did.” 

You put your phone on speaker and close your eyes as you let your middle finger ghost over your covered slit, imagining it was Sunghoon touching you instead. It takes you right back to the morning he fingered you for the first time when you feel how wet you are. You almost feel shameful for getting horny over the sound of Sunghoon’s voice. But it’s deep and seductive, and you can’t help it. 

“I’ve always thought you were attractive. I love assertive women. I love when you put me in my place and argue up the wall until one of us gives up. It drives me fucking crazy when you get mad at me because all I can think about it how good the sex would be.”

You whimper quietly. It catches over the phone and Sunghoon hears it.

“Are you horny, baby?” Sunghoon asks like he can’t believe you feel the same way too. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He breathes heavily and emits a quiet moan. You’re afraid to admit how incredibly attractive Sunghoon’s moans are and settle for biting your lip while prodding your covered cunt against your opening. 

“Remember when we fooled around the night you stayed over? My dick was so hard for you. I was ready to take off your clothes and fuck you right then. 

But it was late and we had work. You looked at me like you wanted it. I could see how badly you wanted me. Did you see how badly I wanted you too?” 

After moving your panties to the side, you take the underside of your fingertips and glide when back and forth over your soaked pussy. You pass your clit with every swipe and jolt at the euphoric feeling while pretending it’s Sunghoon’s hand. You could come from just this if you tried hard enough. 

“You’re a little quiet. Are you okay?”

“I…” you trial off, finding the courage to speak. “I like hearing you talk.”

Sunghoon hums. “You like hearing how horny you make me?”

“God yes.” It comes out like you’re desperate for it. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you. For real, this time. We’ll have all the time in the world for foreplay, but this time, I’ll be able to fuck you without anything or anyone interrupting.” 

When you hear wet sounds on the other end of the line, you can’t help but moan. You picture Sunghoon spreading his precum all over his cock with his hand shaped like a fist, twisting his wrist so that his thumb reaches his tip. You picture him with his phone put on speaker in order to use both hands to jerk himself off. 

The echoes of his wetness splashing makes you put a single finger inside of you. When you listen carefully, you hear Sunghoon’s heavy breathing and the way he’s touching himself. You picture what his face would look like with his eyes closed and mouth wide open.

“I think you want that as badly as I do. I’ve got a place by the countryside. How about a weekend getaway? I’ll fuck you for the entire weekend if that’s what you want.”

Sunghoon hisses and you picture him with his hips in the air as he squeezes himself at the base. Your reference of his print from the first time helps you imagine how big he is without his clothes on. Big and thick. You push your finger deeper inside you and pull your wrist out, just to push it in again. 

“I could fuck your perfect pussy in my bed. I’ll take you on my couch while we’re watching a movie. We’ll do it in the shower and in my car.”

He wants to fuck you this badly? Sunghoon’s words falter with every passing sentence. It sounds like he’s losing his grip on sanity the more he jerks himself off. You come to the conclusion that if you can hear Sunghoon touching himself, he could likely hear you getting off too.

Why does that make you feel excited? 

You feel crazy when you think about what he’s saying. Why does it sound like Sunghoon has been thinking about this for a while? And, God, how is he able to bring out this side of you? 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

Sunghoon’s hand picks up the pace and he moans, unashamed. His deep grunts push you to add another finger inside and recall the girth of his own. You think about what he’d look like touching you in the quiet of your room on your own bed sheets instead of his. You imagine Sunghoon’s naked chest hovering over you while his face contorts into an expression of pleasure when he fucks his fingers inside of you. 

Thinking about him like this makes you feel exhilarated. Your chest heaves up and down and you can’t help but roll your hips and push them towards your fingers. You reach the deepest parts of yourself and moan out loud, covering your mouth when you realize how loud you sound.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Sunghoon whimpers on the other end. “Keep going. You sound so fucking good.”

It’s not hard to listen to him. Moaning against your palm is like second nature when your fingers push themselves in and out. Sunghoon grunts and you imagine himself fucking his hips up in the air while his other hand tries to chase after his balls to squeeze them. He must be jerking himself off fast and quickly by the sound of slapping. 

Imagining what it would feel like to go all the way with him pushes you over the edge. Sunghoon’s words get to you, and you think about his dick ramming inside of you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you properly. He sounds mangled and desperate to touch you without interruption. Something tells you he wouldn’t care if somebody walked in on him pleasuring you, but you know Sunghoon wants you all to himself just as badly.  

You come with panting breaths and Sunghoon moans, too. The way you moan together sounds euphoric. So much, in fact, that you picture him on top of you as he finishes alongside you. You scrum able to grab your phone and take him off speaker so you can hear Sunghoo’s moans directly in your ear, and pretend he’s moaning while on top of you.

“I’m gonna, shit, holy shit—”

Sunghoon moans loudly when he comes. You imagine his hand working overtime to push out every last drop with his eyes wired shut. He could either be squirting ropes out his tip until it splashes on his abdomen. Or, his come could come out like a slow fountain and drip all over his dick until it seeps past his base. The urge to see him orgasm overtakes your every desire. It’s not fair that he’s seen you naked twice and you haven’t seen him named at all. 

“You’re perfect.” 

You snort. “Give me a second to calm down before you coddle me, would you? And what am I, a booty call when you can’t get off?” 

“You’re more than that to me, and you know it. You just like giving me a hard time.”

“Someone has to.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“When am I not?” 

He chuckles. “We should probably sleep. Work, you know?”

“You can be so awkward sometimes.” You laugh and pick up the phone to put it by your ear. “And, um…you sound really good. You know, when you, like…yeah.”

“When I what?” He’s teasing you and he knows you know it. 

“You know!” 

“I do, but I want to hear you say it.” 

Your cheeks warm up and you find your courage. “You sound really good when you moan. I just…jesus.” 

“And you sound like a fucking angel every time I make you come.” 

“I’m going to hang up now,” you say hastily with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He laughs. “Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

***

Maybe you’re losing your goddamn mind. 

It’s hard to keep work separate from whatever’s going on between you and Sunghoon because every moment in his office feels like a lion stalking its prey. He’s professional in all sense of the word, except when he winks at you when nobody’s looking. You can’t count the times he’s snuck a kiss when the two of you are alone in the break room. 

Is this a situationship? Is it casual dating? Would he describe this as either? 

These questions have circled inside your mind from the minute you let him bury his fingers deep into you. You’re the kind of girl who likes a distinct answer with a clear label. You like stability and clarity, not the back and forth that you see in Netflix dramas. 

Even so, you can’t help but relish the time you spend with Sunghoon. He’s giving you the kind of attention you’ve been secretly yearning for during your years away from home. It felt scary to jump into the deep end without knowing how far you’d fall, but Sunghoon makes you think the risk is worth it. 

“Did I lose you?” 

Sunoo’s voice cuts through your phone and you blink twice while staring at yourself in the mirror with a tube of mascara in hand. His voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Thinking about lover boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s my boss, Sun.”

“A boss you’re fucking.”

“We are not fucking!” 

“Yet.” 

You close the mascara tube. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why I bother to update you on my life when you have plenty of action back home.”

Sunoo laughs. “It’s ’cause you love me and have no friends.”

“Yah. No need to rub it in. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming friends with my neighbor who watches Pochi for me when Sunghoon needs me to stay late.” 

“That’s good. See, you aren’t totally helpless when it comes to your social life.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It’s been hard juggling work and my personal life. It feels like every person I hang out with is a product of my job. Everybody wants a meeting to connect with me, but nobody gives a shit about me.” 

“Don’t say that. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s because I love you. People don’t see how great you are.”

“Ha. Maybe. Quitting Park Inc. will give me more time to think about my life. I don’t care if I have to work in a library for a year. Anything is better than a job where I won’t grow.” 

“It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.”

“Am I?” You sigh into the phone. “I have no backup plan. I’m quitting on a whim and the money I’ve gotten from Sunghoon will last me for a while, sure, but then what? It’s not like I can crawl back to this company if I don’t find anything better.”

“You’ve been thinking about quitting for months,” Sunoo reminds you. “This isn’t a rash decision. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about this. You’re not happy working at this company and it’s about damn time you have a life outside of work.”

“I know. It’s just…different, I guess. I’ve gotten used to this lifestyle and catering to other people, you know? I’m not alone, but I feel really lonely.” 

Sunoo hums with sympathy. “I wish I could see you everyday.”

“You’d get sick of me.”

He laughs. “No I wouldn’t. But don’t tell anyone that.” 

“He took me to dinner last night, you know?”

“Sunghoon?”

“Mhm. There’s a Spanish place not far from my place. We looked at it for a company event in the summertime.”

“Like a food tasting?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Sunghoon ordered all of the menu, practically. We talked to the manager about it because they knew we were coming in, but he told me to order anything that looked good.”

“How much did you eat?”

“Too much, Sun. Sunghoon kept telling me not to worry about the price because it’s expensive anyway. I’m pretty sure Sunghoon might be the manager’s new favorite person.” 

“That sounds like a date.” 

You click your tongue. “I don’t know. Probably not. He held my chair out for me.”

“That was a date.”

“Sure. We had a few of their signature cocktails, too. Really good. Top shelf kind of stuff. We need to finalize their menu before I leave for good.”

Sunoo chuckles from the other end of the line. “You are so in denial.”

“Shut up. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“I’m actually walking downstairs now. Riki’s up early because he has class and then dance practice later this evening.”

“Is that your sister?” A deeper voice flows through your ears.

“Hey, Riki. How are your classes and practice?”

“I resist the urge to fall asleep on my desk,” he says, which makes you laugh. “Dance is great. We’ve got a showcase in Seoul in a few weeks. You should come!”

“I’d love to. Text me the details, yeah?”

“Bring whoever. There’s gonna be a few scouts, but it’s not a huge thing.”

“I’ll be there.” 

“You two are disgustingly supportive of each other,” Sunoo says.

“Don’t act like you don’t worry about her,” Riki says, no doubt teasing Sunoo while the latter rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m kind of stuck with her as a sister, so I have to.”

You laugh. “Don’t lie. You love me.”

“Debatable.”

You smile when you hang up the phone.

***

Yang Jungwon is fifteen minutes early.

You see him sitting in the lobby of your floor by the time you step out of your office to refill your water bottle before the interview. He’s got a piece of paper in his hands and he looks like he’s reading over the material thoroughly. Jungwon sits with a briefcase by his feet and dresses like he might as well be a business partner of Sunghoon’s. The secretary lets you know he’s waiting for the interview and you’re more than pleased to know he hasn’t arrived last minute. 

Sunghoon is nowhere to be found, either. Even though each candidate has no inclination as to who they’ll be working with, you know Sunghoon’s curiosity will get the better of him. You’ve scheduled a meeting with a client out of the office and he won’t come back until well into the day.

An unfamiliar feeling settles in your chest when you look at him. He looks the way you did before you were hired. Nervous, ambitious, and hopeful. Looking at him makes you think about when you arrived at the interview much earlier than the set time and how you tried to push down your anxiety to appear more sure of yourself. 

The years seem to have flown by the more you focus on work. A strange sense of nostalgia and longing lurks within you as you watch Jungwon from your office. Facing the fact that you will be replaced in a month feels oddly daunting. By the time you approach him, he stands up and bows respectfully. 

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he says, putting the stray paper away. “I appreciate your time and consideration.”

“Thank you for coming. Let’s talk inside my office.” 

He follows you inside and takes a seat in front of your desk when you beckon him to feel comfortable. It feels strange to be on this side of the interview; you kept a low profile during your first few years as an assistant until working with Sunghoon was as easy as counting to three. Becoming an invaluable asset and accumulating the fine details of how this company operates and the business it does feels like you’re far too integrated to leave. But you’ve always been Sunghoon’s right hand and nothing more. 

Still, facing the reality that you’re parting ways with this job feels unnatural. 

“How are you, Jungwon?”

“I’m great, actually.” He puts the briefcase on the ground and smoothes over his pants. “I’m really looking forward to our conversation.” 

“Thanks for coming in on a Tuesday morning.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m sure you have more pressing matters.” You hum. Hearing corporate speak from such a young man reminds you of the person you were six years ago.

“Tell me about yourself.”

He gulps. “I’ve just graduated college and have always held an interest in being in management. I wasn’t sure what field I wanted to go into, but Seoul has so many great opportunities I was afforded to discover during my time at university.” Jungwon takes a deep breath and twiddles his thumbs. 

“Throughout my years at internships, venture capitalism caught my interest the most. It was fun, if I may speak candidly. I extended my internship throughout the summer before I graduated and liked being part of a team that sets up success for clients I believe in.” He watches you look down at his resume sitting atop your desk. 

“You have great experience and your university courses align with what we do here.”

“I tailored my education during my last year of university because I know this is what I want to do for the foreseeable future. I want to learn from the best and become great at what I do without losing my head.”

You hum. “This job can get hectic, don’t you think?” 

“I think any job can get that way, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. My days were long and difficult, but I loved getting the experience to solve problems and make things happen for businesses. I enjoyed being part of it, even if I only contributed a small portion.”

Jungwon talks like he’s got the entire world ahead of him. It makes you wish you could see yourself like that too.

“Frankly speaking, this assistant position is much more than filing papers and running errands. There will be elements of that from time to time, but the person you’ll be working under likes to see how well his assistant can juggle the fine details before anything else.” 

“I’m not held to a position,” Jungwon says with a smile. “I really like learning from other people and the best way to do it is to surround myself in an environment that teaches me. Even if I’m getting dry cleaning one day and sitting in on meetings the next, I’d like to think all of those tasks will lead me to become great at my job.”

“It’s a stepping stone, for sure. As you know, Park Inc. is the biggest venture capitalist firm in Asia and there is little room for error. How do you approach obstacles?”

“There’s no getting around bad days or lapse of judgment. We all make mistakes and it’s up to us to learn from them. I would consider myself somebody who sees the big picture for what it is. I’m also somebody who needs to focus twice as hard when it comes to the fine details and executing steps before we reach the end goal. It’s hard, especially when I’m in the beginning stages of my career, but I have the determination and ambition to succeed.” 

Jungwon gives you near perfect answers when you ask him questions. Sunghoon thrives off of organization and somebody who can keep up with his routine. It’s hard to separate who you are with this job because you’re the longest assistant Sunghoon has ever had, and you think that counts for something. 

A part of you looks at Jungwon like he’s a younger version of you. It’s as if you’re peering into your past; the concept of being incredibly motivated to jumpstart his career makes you wonder where your wide-eyed ambition went. His big, round eyes look at you with curiosity and his body language shows eagerness. You ponder on all the reasons why you’re giving your job up. You don’t find this position fulfilling anymore. This everyday routine doesn’t make you happy like it used to. 

There’s hesitance in leaving the company you’ve worked for during your six years living by yourself. It was lonely, at first, with the knowledge that you’d be leaving your family and grade friends behind. Your parents and Sunoo helped you pack your belongings, but it seemed like he was the only one genuinely emotional about the move. While he swayed anywhere between excited for your next chapter and sad that you’d be far away, your parents seemed eager to get you out of the house. 

Calls came few and in between. They’d driven you in a U-Haul truck with everything you owned and helped put the boxes in your apartment, but that was that. They had called a couple of times to make sure you were settled in because your relatives and neighbors had asked about it. But other than that, it seemed like most of their focus shifted onto Sunoo. 

It wasn’t surprising, either. The three of you weren’t that close as you grew up. Getting used to secondhand treatment and the absence of parenthood was easier when you eventually left your hometown. Long gone were the days where you’d drive past your high school and relive memories of being forgotten at pickup or after extracurriculars. The impending doom of loneliness that came with moving to a brand new city without knowing a single soul was better than living with two people who were supposed to love you, but didn’t. 

Having a set routine and focusing your attention on Sunghoon was a big reason as to why your adjustment wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Your time was spent worrying about getting the hang of your job, and eventually catering to his needs. There wasn’t any time in your day to think about how lonely you were sitting in your apartment every weekend while everyone on your social feed was out of their house. 

Befriending your neighbors and people you’ve met through work was your saving grace once the loneliness started to make its presence known. By this time, you knew Sunghoon like the back of your hand and work wasn’t keeping you from sleeping. You didn’t have to worry about impressing him because you’d been working under him long enough to know what he needed and how he operated. All that was left was you and your thoughts alone. Thinking about your life apart from your career was scary. 

But even with new challenges and shortcomings, you’ve grown over the last few years. You’re not the timid person you were when you lived with your parents. This job has forced you to come out of your shell and broaden your worldview, inevitably teaching you how to become a more confident person. This job is filled with entitled men who know nothing of struggle, and being able to move past harsh criticisms and sexist behavior taught you what it meant to be a stronger person. 

It feels bittersweet to hear Jungwon talk about why he wants your job so much. You don’t feel as excited to come into the office and contribute to your company like you all those years ago. It’s become monotonous and predictable. You know Sunghoon’s life better than you know your own. You know his medical history (in case of an emergency), you’ve gotten to know his immediate and distant family (because his entire family is in the venture capitalist business), and you’ve spent enough time with Sunghoon to get to know his quirks and habits. It’s time to let this phase of your life pass.

Who are you when you’re not his assistant? You’re having trouble figuring that out.  

“Thank you for your honesty and for your time,” you tell Jungwon earnestly. He stands when you do and bows politely. 

“If I may be honest once more,” Jungwon begins, “this is the best interview I’ve ever had.” 

That makes you stop in your tracks. “Really?” 

He nods. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m trying to sway you, or anything. I know how competitive this business is. But I appreciated how easy it was to talk to you and I enjoyed having a conversation instead of listing all of my strengths and weaknesses over and over again. 

“It’s easy to get lost in the stress of this job. It sounds like you really care about what you do. I know we don’t know each other, but I get the feeling you’ve seen a thing or two and learned from it. Maybe this is crossing a line. I don't know. But honestly, it felt like I was talking to an older version of me, in a sense? So, yeah, I loved our interview.” 

“Thank you, Jungwon.” You try to remain neutral and keep your mouth shut to prevent yourself from being too honest with a candidate. “I had a wonderful time with you, too. Let me walk you to the elevator.” He follows behind you to the silver doors and smiles politely at you before stepping inside. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m happy to have met you.” 

The elevator doors close. Sunghoon, who apparently made his way back into his office without letting Jungwon see, is sitting at his desk and looking at his computer. It takes a few strides before you round the corner and knock on his door. Sunghoon beckons for you to come in. 

“How’d it go with the candidate? Did you lay it on thick or keep it casual? Jaeyun was betting on the former, but I think otherwise.”

You’re grateful that his office faces yours and cannot be seen from the floor lobby. Sunghoon looks at you in concern when your bottom lip starts to wobble as you walk closer to him, and you can barely see a thing when tears start to gather in your waterline. 

“Baby?” Sunghoon says gently. “Are you okay?” 

That goddamn term of endearment makes the dam burst. 

It doesn’t help that you don’t cry in front of people. Not ever. There is a mix of embarrassment and shame stirring in your chest when Sunghoon looks at you as your tears fall one after the other. It keeps you standing where you are and unable to move your feet to walk any closer to him. Sunghoon springs up from his chair and stands in front of you within three steps. He encircles his arms around your body and pulls you into his chest like he’s done it a million times before, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. 

You keep your voice and sniffles low, but you let the tears freefall. It feels like you’re being sheltered and comforted at the same time. You can’t help but think how odd and uncomfortable it feels to be held like this after years of healing on your own. You couldn’t name the last time you’ve leaned on somebody else for support when you’ve felt like crying. And as unfamiliar as this feeling is, you don’t want to run away from it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t speak, either. He doesn’t do or say anything except rubbing your upper back with his palm in an attempt to soothe you. You don’t see his furrowed eyebrows or feel how his throat clenches at the sound of you sniffling against him. He doesn’t care if his clothes dampen with your tears, nor does he care if he has to stand like this for hours just to get you to stop crying. 

It feels so good to let yourself depend on him. You allow your head to fall onto his chest and remain there until your cries subside. Sunghoon keeps you between his arms and moves his free hand to the back of your head like he’s trying to tuck you further into him. It feels nice to be comforted like this, especially when you’ve been pretending you’ve been perfectly fine all along. 

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks delicately. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I don’t like seeing you cry.” 

“I met with Jungwon.” You sniffle and then hiccup. 

“Yeah? Was the interview that bad?” You shake your head. 

“N-No. The opposite.” 

“But you’re in tears, love.” 

You hiccup again. “I used to be ambitious and passionate. I used to look forward to the future. Jungwon told me this was the best interview he’s ever had and I can’t remember the last time somebody believed in me.” 

“Oh, love.” Sunghoon cups your jawline and gently tilts your head upwards to look at him. “You’re still ambitious and passionate. That side of you is still there, but it’s time for a change and you know it.” He kisses your forehead. “There’s so much to admire about you. I knew I wanted you to be my assistant when I knew how eager you were to learn and experience life. Do you remember the first time we met?” 

You nod. “You were obsessed with that stupid orange tie.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I was, wasn’t I? Ditching it was the second best decision I made.”

“What was the first?” Sunghoon smoothes over your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Hiring you. I like being around you, and I like who I’ve become with you by my side. Jungwon isn’t the only person who believes in you, dove. I do, too.” 

You let out another choked sob, not caring how your mascara is probably running down your cheeks or how buffy your face has gotten. Something about the way he looks at you while he says the most kind and caring things stirs a part of you that yearns for validation and acceptance. For years now, you’ve learned to keep yourself in check and to become as independent as possible to avoid being disappointed by other people. But Sunghoon looks at you like he’d be there for you in a heartbeat. 

His pet names don’t soften the blow to your heart, either. You’ve never been keen on nicknames in the first place. Terms of endearment sounded appealing, but only in television and books. Hearing Sunghoon talk to you like you’re somebody he cares about makes you realize just how much you care for him, too.

You’ve fallen for Sunghoon, but have been keeping this realization locked away in fear of being rejected. You can handle rejection and unrequited love, but the weight of knowing you’d need to do the work in order to move on is what scares you. You’ve never felt so intensely about someone before. This is the first time you could ever say you’ve fallen in love with somebody, and you can’t help but think Sunoo was right all along. 

Is this what it feels like to be in love? To yearn for somebody so much that you’d do anything to keep them within your grasp? Is love meant to feel like you’re flying high above the clouds and afraid that you’ll have to fly closer to the ground if Sunghoon doesn't love you back? Is this what others feel when they speak of being on cloud nine? 

“I…” 

Sunghoon locks his eyes with yours. He doesn’t pressure you to speak. The words I love you are sitting at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to get yourself to say it just yet. It doesn’t feel right with all of these insecurities floating around in your head. You don’t want to be rejected and still have to see him after today. 

“I’m grateful for you,” is what you settle on. “Thank you for believing in me that day.” 

Sunghoon kisses your nose. You hate that you love the way his lips tickle and you loathe the way your heart rate picks up. 

“I think we should go to lunch and forget about work for an hour or two. What do you say? You’ll be proud to know I’ve taken care of all my meetings and outstanding priorities.” 

“I’d like that.” 

You’re honest with him, too. You want to be selfish and continue spending time with him while your heart remains fragile. 

He lets you. 

***

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[darlinluxx]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ౨ৎ

pairing : kang sae byeok x fem!reader

warnings : nsfw

warnings for sfw : tiniest mention of sickness

warnings for nsfw : dom!saebyeok, sub!reader, tiny mention of knife play, degradation, strap

a/n : just thought i’d start off with some headcannons <3 if you have requests, feel free to message me <3

- Saebyeok probably wouldn’t be the first one to say “i love you”

- when she did say those three words, she would feel relieved. after all, she has been holding it in since she laid eyes on you

- and she doesn’t say it much, instead, she shows her love through different ways

- like remembering the smallest details — like how you take your coffee (or if you don’t like coffee), which side of the bed you prefer, or your favorite movies

- she has a habit of “borrowing” things of yours and never returning them

- she absolutely loves seeing you in her clothes

- the first time Saebyeok fell asleep on the couch with your head on her chest, it’s a bigger milestone than your first kiss

- Saebyeok struggles with accepting help or care when she’s sick. she’s used to acting like she’s fine. the first time she calls you because she has a fever is a huge moment of trust

- gives you a spare key for her apartment

- she’s not big on pet names, but i think from time to time she would call you, “darling,” “baby,” or “princess”

- always saying things like “i missed you,” “did you eat?” or “are you warm enough?”

- she expresses worry more through actions since she’s not the most comfortable with saying things. she’ll fix the bow on the back of your hair when you’re walking ahead of her

- when she’s upset, she goes quiet rather than angry

- Saebyeok’s love language is 100% quality time

- i think we can call come to an agreement that she’s not a fan of pda

- she will hold hands with you while walking though

- in private, she would like physical contact though. she’s always finding small ways to touch you

- loves to give you hugs — her arms wrapped around you as she holds you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head as she murmurs sweet words to you

- her favorite form of physical affection is playing with your hair while you lay on her chest as you two watch movies

- we can also all come to an agreement that this woman is PROTECTIVE !!

- is always near you out in public like a personal bodyguard

- carries her pocket knife everywhere

- while walking together, Saebyeok always positions herself on the street side of the sidewalk

- and what if i said she memorizes your schedule (without meaning to) just to know you’re safe ??

- the first time you meet Cheol, she’s more nervous than either of you

- Saebyeok doesn’t even realize that she leaves things at your apartment

- the first time she calls your apartment “home,” she doesn’t even notice—it feels natural

- she has a specific spot on the couch in your living room that becomes “her spot”

- Saebyeok is always the first to wake up. she’ll make coffee for herself and attempt to make toast but burns it. so once you wake up you’ll have to help her with cooking

- she keeps track of important dates, she never needs a reminder for your anniversary or your birthday

- she’s surprisingly good at domestic tasks. years of self-reliance made her practical

- she stress cleans when anxious. you can tell when something’s bothering her

- she loves late night talks. whether it be sharing goals in life or random thoughts, she’ll always enjoy it

- Saebyeok’s protective but not possessive, having learned the difference between love and control

- has trouble accepting gifts but puts incredible thought into giving them. no matter how many people she has to pickpocket, she will get you something she knows you’ve been wanting for a long time

- never makes promises she’s not absolutely certain she can keep

- she always keeps her promises

- Saebyeok keeps a journal of things that make you smile (she won’t ever admit it)

- is secretly good at video games but pretends to be bad so you can “teach” her

- loves sharing airpods with you when you two are on the subway or walking

- has a (secret) playlist of songs that remind her of you

nsfw ౨ৎ

- she’s a top / dom !!! anyone who says different is a liar

- okay and what if i said she’s lowkey into knife play ?? then what

- Saebyeok really focuses on making you feel good. gets satisfaction on seeing you cum

- she’s usually more on the rougher side, but if you want her to be gentle, she will be no questions asked

- “don’t get all shy now. it’s just me.” when you’re getting shy or nervous with her

- mix of praise and degradation !! “you’re so dirty for me.” “you look so pretty cumming on my fingers.”

- could eat you out for the rest of her life

- loves when you wear dresses or skirts cause it gives her the opportunity to slide her hand closer and closer to where you need her. and she knows. but she can’t resist teasing you

- loves fucking you with a strap just because ?? especially in front of a mirror

- sweetest aftercare, so so gentle with you. as if you’re made out of glass

[faiszt]

⠀

⠀⠀⠀ .⠀⠀⠀˚⠀ ⠀⋆⠀ ⠀ROBERT REYNOLDS IN⠀⠀:⠀⠀♥︎︎

01.⠀PROLOGUE⠀꒰ summary ꒱⠀ ❛❛ good men die too, so i’d rather be with you. ❜❜ he looks like he works with his hands and smells like marlboro reds⠀⠀ ─── ⠀⠀never be tempting, never show more than you should, never stop being modest and respectful, the words you heard daily from your mother. you did all that, you were everything your parents polished, until he came into your life. the pastor’s son, robert—or, as he was affectionately nicknamed, bob. the kind of trouble your mother warned you to stay away from, but what could you do when trouble had such a pretty face?⠀ ⠀⠀PLAYLIST

·⠀୨୧⠀·⠀contains⠀:⠀mentions of religion / god topics. age gap ꒰ all characters are of legal age ꒱⠀mentions of cheating. mommy issues. pastor’s son!bob x younger naive!reader.⠀no use of y/n ⠀·⠀ꕀ⠀·⠀ wordcount⠀:⠀2.2k.

·⠀୨୧⠀·⠀diary notes⠀:⠀this is inspired by “ the starling girl ” and i think it’s pretty easy to notice it. ⠀ anyway, this is also my first time writing a series, so... enjoy it! ♡

my masterlist and the guidelines! !! NEW CHAPTER

YOUR EYES were so fixed on the pastor that you didn’t really listen to him, you just stared at him, without blinking, your mind was somewhere else, although your body was there. sitting next to your mother in the church pew, you sighed, noticing how it felt like a sin to think about what you were thinking.

god knows how you would never be a bad girl. the crosses scattered around your house reminded you of who you would always be: a good christian girl, the one who listens to her parents, who respects the laws of christianity and who makes her life a temple of worship for the lord. there was nothing beyond that, or maybe they didn’t want you to know whether there was or not.

it doesn’t matter. what will you do? run away to another state? how? taking a train should be hard enough.

but, since he came into your life, your instinct to escape from the customs has practically become null. robert reynolds, the reason you prayed for god to take away the temptation. wanting a man you couldn’t have not even in your dreams was like wishing you could have bitten into the forbidden fruit.

sin.

your thoughts were thrown into disarray when you felt icy fingers pinching your arm, your mother looking at you as if you had committed a crime by simply staring. “blink your eyes, it’s rude to look at people like that.” she whispered, trying to make you understand what was right—although different people had different concepts of right or wrong, you didn’t, your mother knew what was best for you.

you did it, you blinked and looked away. looking at your feet and the little heels you wore, the highest allowed, just enough to make you look like a well-behaved and demure young lady with your dress below the knees and covered at the shoulders. no low-cut tops, shorts, tight or ripped clothes, there was nothing more important than looking respectful inside and outside the lord’s house.

if it weren’t a little strange it would be funny that you don’t know many people your own age, or even many people outside the community. no way, what could you learn from people like that? just friends from church, your parents made it clear. which, in a nutshell, meant you didn’t have many friends.

at least, you could say that the old ladies talked to you often when they weren’t trying to marry you off to some boy who made your stomach turn just by looking at him.

“mrs. reynolds would like your help in choosing the choir songs for next weekend. go talk to her, yes?” the cold fingers that your mother had always had now gently tapped your shoulder. it wasn’t a request, but an order. go and do it, that’s it.

and again, you did it. if it weren’t for the fact that mrs. reynolds loved to talk, and she talked too much, more than her mouth could handle, probably, since she always had to stop talking and take a sip from her water bottle. this forced you to walk home alone, in the cold, because you left your jacket in your father’s car. great.

you sighed, looking at your feet again, before walking out of the church with your arms crossed and a bored expression, even though that was basically your resting expression.

“are you really gonna go home alone? brave girl.” for a moment, you were startled and turned around with your eyebrows raised, a little confused, until you saw bob come out from behind his car. he was in the shadows, watching you silently until he decided to speak and come closer, he didn’t say much—the problem was how much this only increased your curiosity to understand him, when you should have stayed away.

“i guess i have no other option.” you managed to answer him after a few seconds, looking away immediately when you noticed he was looking directly at you.

bob crossed his arms over his chest, he continued to stare at you in silence as he leaned back against his car. “come in. i’ll ride you home.” it sounded like an offer, but surprisingly he seemed to use the same tone of voice your mother used when she told you to talk to mrs. reynolds, not a request, but an order.

but, you could almost hear her voice telling you not to get into a man’s car alone with him, especially at night. could it be a sign of concern? yes, but it wasn’t. mommy just didn’t want the family name to be tarnished because you decided to be the mistress of some engaged man. she was always expecting the worst from you even without any reason to.

“you don’t have to, i can walk.” you denied his offer profusely, swallowing hard again to the point where you thought he might have heard the slurred noise your throat made. “but... thank you, anyway.”

your stubbornness didn’t please him much, maybe because he could see right through you and you didn’t want to walk alone, just as you didn’t want to be seen inside his car. your concern made sense, the point was that he wouldn’t let you walk alone to your house—which he knew wasn’t as close as it seemed. “i didn’t say you had a choice, but i did said i’m gonna ride you home... so, come in.” he said a little more harshly, opening the passenger seat door as he waited for you. “i won’t park in front of your house if you don’t want me to.”

the last sentence came out as you were approaching him and makes you stop walking, thinking about how he had noticed you were thinking about it when you hadn’t said anything at all. you could have questioned, but you just nodded and got into his car, snuggling into the passenger seat, a little uncomfortable and uncertain about it all.

as the engine roared to life, you took a moment to sigh again, leaning back into the leather seat as you turned your face slightly to face the view outside the window. maybe it was easier to keep your distance from him as much as you could, you found him interesting because you felt you should, not because you knew him.

“older sister?” his voice reappeared beside you after what seemed like less than three minutes of silence, pulling up a conversation, which only makes you look at him with a confused expression. “the bracelet on your wrist... i always see you with two little girls.” oh, the beaded bracelet on your wrist that one of your little sisters had made for you, of course he would notice that, you thought.

it was a bad idea to have a conversation with him, but it was also rude to simply not answer him when you could hear all his words. “oh, yeah... yes, i’m the older sister.” you answered him, looking directly at the bracelet on your wrist as you ran your fingers over the beads gently.

“that’s nice... i really wanted to have sisters, but i only have brothers.” bob looked away from the road for a moment, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as his eyes dropped to the bracelet you were also now looking at. “and i’m not even the oldest son, so... i guess you’re the lucky one here to be the oldest and have two little sisters.”

you felt bad that you couldn’t say anything, but you really couldn’t say anything, especially when your mind was spinning around the fact that you didn’t want to be going through this. how bad would it be if someone saw you getting out of his car and it became gossip? then, your mother would find out, and...

“did you like today’s sermon?”

your thoughts trailed off when he spoke to you, again, he’s a little pushy, you thought. on the contrary, he only noticed that you were silent when you were thinking too much—he noticed every little thing in your behavior: the way your feet started moving, you stopped blinking and were breathing as if you were asleep awake, it wasn’t his insistence, it was just a remark.

“yeah, that was a good sermon... the pastor is... really good with words.” you didn’t even know what you were talking about, maybe because you didn’t remember a single word the pastor said, nor what he was talking about the whole sermon. your words made a short laugh escape bob as he ran his hand over his chin, brushing his long, calloused fingers—where you could see his engagement ring shining—against his freshly shaved beard.

he just found it funny how you seemed to barely know how to talk sometimes. “but, i’m the one who gave the sermon today.” the seriousness in his tone of voice made you raise your eyebrows, thinking that you had really been caught not paying attention to anything, so he laughed a little more amusedly. “i’m messing with you. it was my dad who gave the sermon, but you really didn’t pay attention, huh? you weren’t even blinking.”

as soon as he talked about the fact that you weren’t blinking almost the entire sermon and even imitated the way you were staring at the pastor, you laughed for the first time around him and he appreciated it more than he should have. “oh, you laugh... good to know you’re not in a bad mood all the time.” bob teased you again before his eyes returned intently to the road. “i started to think i’m a terrible driver.”

“terrible driver or not, i’m sure you’re much better at driving than i am.” you were actually talking to him, not just talking, but banter with him. your walls were really down and that was a huge problem, he was observant, more than you could notice.

bob kept that amused expression on his face, although he was keeping his eyes fixed on the road as a precaution, it was not uncommon for animals to try to cross the road at night. “don’t say that, you can’t be that bad with a steering wheel, can you?” he questioned. “maybe i’ll let you drive my car one day just so you can remember what it’s like. if you’re anything like you say, i bet your dad doesn’t trust you to drive his car.”

another laugh escaped you and you nodded, it wasn’t a lie, your father preferred you stay away from the wheel of his car. “you shouldn’t trust me so much.” you smiled, lips parting lightly when you noticed that you weren’t as anxious as before—but, that same anxiety slowly returned when you noticed that you were in your neighborhood.

“i can always give it a try.” he said, returning your smile as he parked his car under a tree about four houses down from your house. “is it okay to park here?”

you looked out the window for a moment, no neighbors around, just the streetlights illuminating the street and the tree above the car blocked the light from reaching the two of you. “yes, thank you for the ride. i owe you one.” you replied, ready to get out of the car as you took off your seatbelt, but bob grabbed your wrist. “is something wrong?”

he sighed when he saw what he did, quickly letting go of your wrist and bringing his hand to his hair, combing it back like he did quite often. “no, no... i just wanted to say goodbye, see you at church, yeah? my mom said you’re going there tomorrow to help her organize the choir song.” he said and you remembered, of course, you helped mrs. reynolds choose the song and would also help her organize everything.

“yeah, that’s right...” you nodded, still a little taken aback by the fact that he had grabbed your wrist earlier.

“i can come pick you up. i have things to do at church tomorrow too, do your parents mind? i can talk to them.” bob didn’t know how harmless this idea was, but he suggested it anyway, perhaps because he himself was only doing what he wanted to do, and not what he was supposed to do.

your breath caught in your throat at the suggestion, it definitely seemed like something you weren’t sure of his intentions for. it didn’t matter, he was just a man trying to be kind, you hoped he was. “no... no need to talk to them, just park here at 2pm and i’ll... come. they won’t mind.” lie. they would care, especially your mother, but it was just... they shouldn’t know, bob seemed so nice, you didn’t want to lose that right now when you could have someone. a friend, just a friend.

he nodded, almost giving a smile, though he suppressed it by just pressing his lips into a line. “fine, 2pm, i’ll be here.”

you got out of his car with calm steps, avoiding making unnecessary noises before crossing the street and walking slowly to the door of your house. for one last time, you turned around and saw him there, watching you from inside the car, just to make sure you were okay.

to be continued...

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[slytherinshua]

☆　EYES FULL OF STARS　( 박후민 )

genre hurt/comfort , baku x fem!reader   cw spoilers for weak hero class 2 (fic takes place sometime during ep 6) , injuries (cuts and bruises) , not proofread   wc 800   request yes   note there's no one more obsessed w ryeoun's big beautiful eyes than me i could post a gifset of baku later (i did make this gif just for the fic tho ejkfjkd)   net @kstrucknet

You don’t remember much before you blacked out. Union guys threatening you, some with weapons, some just with words. Na Baekjin asked you where Baku was. You wouldn’t tell him. Maybe you should have risked his safety to protect yours. He was physically stronger, a skill fighter, and smart in these kinds of situations. He would’ve handled it, like he always did. But he was pushed between a rock and a hard place, and you just wanted to give him a break for even one day.

After he had refused to continue doing Baekjin’s little tasks, he came to stay with you. No one knew about you. At least, Baku thought no one knew about you. It wasn’t hard for the Union to track you down, figure out the connection between you two, and use you as leverage to get to Baku. Baekjin freely used your boyfriend’s friends and father, and now you.

You attended a completely different school; only saw Baku on some days of the week. You kept yourself out of the trouble the guys were facing. Baku didn’t want you to get involved in any way, and only told you the least concerning parts of what was happening. It shouldn’t have to concern you what mess Eunjang High was facing. It was his job to deal with it. He never thought Baekjin would somehow get his hands on you.

When Baku got the impudent call from Baekjin asking if he would still refuse to do what he wanted when they had you hostage, he saw red. More than a few faces left bloodstained that night. Baku left with you in his arms. 

You stirred in his arms halfway back to your apartment, groaning in pain and blinking your eyes open. He walked a little slower and held you a little tighter. 

“Baku… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve made sure they never got to you. It’s on me for thinking they wouldn’t find you,” he sighed, gulping down the guilt and trying to find the means to smile. For you. 

“Hey… I’m okay. You got me now,” you closed your eyes again, smiling through the exhaustion and pain. Being in your boyfriend’s arms always gave you a sense of comfort. Even when you had bruises all over your body and multiple cuts. Even when you could still picture it all fresh in your mind. 

Baku had the basic first aid kits in his room, along with plenty of bandages he was used to applying by himself. He made sure you were comfortable on his bed before starting to inspect where all your injuries were.

“Tell me honestly. How badly did you beat them up?” you asked, nervous for the answer. Baku knew not to cross the line, but there was no one he was more protective over than you. As soon as you got hurt, all sense went out the window. You could imagine the levels he could reach to get back at them. 

“They’re all still alive,” he said carefully, flashing you a reassuring smile that did nothing to curb your worries.

“Park Humin.”

He frowned, hands pausing their unwrapping of a large bandage. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Baku,” you corrected, your voice softer this time. “Violence isn’t the answer for violence.”

“It’s the only language they understand,” he said simply. “I don’t like it either. You know I’d never fight someone unnecessarily,” he reached for your hand, the gentle squeeze he gave you enough to relax your tense muscles. 

“I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt too.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure I don’t then, okay?” He smiled; the kind of big grin that you could always count on to make you feel better. 

“Okay,” you smiled as well. More tentative and held back than Baku, like you knew that the situation was much more complicated than promises to not get hurt could suffice for. But you chose to let his words silence your anxiety for a while. For the current moment, you were both safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Let’s get you bandaged up,” Baku got back to work, disinfecting any scrape or cut and covering them with carefully placed bandages. Each time you winced from the pain, he would kiss you gently, and by the end of it, the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. 

Some people only saw your boyfriend as loud and overbearing, while others feared his physical strength. Most students at Eunjang High respected him, but rarely did they ever get to know him. Few knew the challenges he faced, and even fewer knew how caring he truly was. 

But you knew him inside out, and if there was ever anyone who you would stick by for the rest of your life, Baku was just that. 

k-drama taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @cosmicwintr,, @blossominghunnie,, @parkjennykim,, @seunghancore,, @emmylksblog,, @bananabubble,, @hrtsvivis,, @hursheys,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows

[screampied]

horny reader sending toji soapy titties pics when he's out so he gets home and makes her cum by just playing with her nipples and talking her through it :3

۫ ⭒ toji talking you through an órgasm after you tease him with pics while he’s at work

warnings. fem! reader, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, praise / mdni.

you always loathed whenever toji had work, meaning he’d be gone for so many hours.

boredom always overtook you.

you’d be laid on the bed, specifically his side of the bed while having a staring contest with the ceiling. nevertheless, you get an idea so you decide to take a nice relaxing bubble bath. with a good thirty minutes of straight silence—you reach for your phone, snapping a good two pictures of tits. the pretty bubbles of soap that ran down, you bring a hand up to give your nipple a soft squeeze as the camera flashed before sending it to toji.

giggling, you watch as the message immediately goes straight to read, meaning toji opened your picture immediately.

of course, it took toji about thirty seconds to actually reply — all he replies with is with a subtle, “That’s cute. I’ll be home in a few.”

deeply in thought, you pondered what that was about, you just couldn’t wait for toji to finally be home. you clearly missed him and even changed into something pretty for him.

nothing too risqué….

just one of his oversized shirts, you knew he loved whenever you walked around with nothing but one of his clothings. after drying yourself off and moisturizing with candied smelling lotion. you crawled back into the bed and as if right on cue, toji came through the door.

“toji!” you’d beam, stretching your arms out and about to hug him.

“nah baby, don’t touch me.” he grumbles in a gruff voice—you took in his scent, a strong rousing cologne scent that left you craving for more. he got into the bed and you gasp once he lifts up your ; his shirt. “you know you’re in trouble right?”

you grow quiet as he snuggles up against you, sliding off his shoes before bringing your straight into his arms. “what for?”

“girl,” he utters in a rasp, you let off a soft moan once toji drags you towards his lap—you’re facing the opposite way of him, and a rough hand of his grabs onto your right tit. “you’ve got some nerve, princess. not only were you touching yourself while i wasn’t here, but you also sent pictures of yourself to me while i was at work,” and you start to softly pant, feeling him swipe a thumb against your perky nipple. “what if i was around people huh? and they saw my cute baby all exposed ‘n provocative?”

“i’m…s-sorry, you huffed out a frustrated breath. his touch was so warm. you started to feel yourself getting heated, in that kind of way. the way that makes you drenched between your thighs. “you were gone all day ‘n i thought i’d show you myse—”

“i understand princess but you shouldn’t be touching yourself in the first place,” and for a moment his voice grew smooth and tender—you slump your head back against his chest before he moved his free hand towards between your legs. “what’d i tell you about touching yourself, girl? besides, ya can’t even do it properly.”

you heard the low snicker follow shortly afterwards, and he was so smug and condescending.

“ya can’t even touch yourself right, what makes you think you can make yourself cum?” he murmurs against your neck before playfully licking a stripe against your tender skin.

you start to whimper, feeling him squeeze against your left breast, another rubbing against your panties.

“i-i can.” you pout, intaking a sharp breath from the sheer warmth to of his touch.

“baby, y’er fingers are fuckin’ useless,” he chuckles. you frown from his teasing before you let off a soft moan once you feel toji’s thick fingers graze and brush against the middle part of your panties. “gotta do everything for you,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your collarbone. he felt you breathing back against him. you gnaw on your lip as toji’s still playing with your breasts. “did you touch down here?”

your breathing continued to pick up, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a brief second. “um, no.”

“um, yeah,” he hisses. toji’s jaw tightens and you let off a needy mewl once he runs a thumb down your slit before feeling it slowly sink in—you’re so wet it happens so easily, and your heads just lazily laid back against his chest. “if you didn’t touch yourself, how come you’re all drenched?”

“i was—”

“dumb soaked liars shouldn’t speak,” he cuts you off, and you moan once he presses a little pressure against your hardened nipple, feeling a bit a few droplets of water trickle down. “i don’t hold grudges though, especially not with you, baby,” and his words were tame and smooth right against your ear. “but i feel kinda bad. least i can do is give you an orgasm huh? ya want that, princess?”

you sniffle, giving his wrist a firm tug. “yesyes, please. touch me more.”

“shouldn’t do shit after that little slutty stunt you pulled,” he growls, and you moan once he starts to maneuver small circles against your cunt—two fingers now softly making its way inside. toji’s got your panties shoved to the side and your bottom lip quavers. “but…i don’t wanna make my baby more needy than she has to be.”

“toji,” you’d sulk, and the warmth of his breath forevermore continued to blow against your ear whenever he laughed. “make me cum, p-please.”

he was so smooth with his fingers, adding just enough pressure to where you’re feeling yourself grow hot and bothered each second.

“no one should see these girls but me,” he snickers, giving your nipple a soft squeeze. you were so sensitive, especially there—yet he knew that. “her too.” toji coyly grins, the top of his fingers prod against clit as he feels you bare around his digits. “can’t leave ya by yourself can i? i can just imagine how many others times you were here waiting, playing with yourself, hmpf.”

“it— it was just this one time.” you moaned, immense tension building up. a sudden breeze of from the cool air danced against your skin. toji smiles, knowing each exact angle to hit you with his fingers.

you remain sojourned against his chest, and toji brings his chin towards your right shoulder—you conceal an incoming moan once he’s just lightly ramming his fingers in and out of you. it’s sloppy, the plethora rings of squelches sang in harmony and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. “and it’ll be the last right, baby?”

“yes. promise, toji please.” you’d hiccup, and as he still has one of your breasts in the inner depths of his hand, your legs trembled in longing desire.

“okay,” he purrs, nipping a kiss towards your neck. you pierce your nails into his arm before after a few long tension building moments. you cum, and you cum hard. you eye sight hazy, swallowing thickly you panted heavily. “good girl, good messy girl. relax.”

you huffed and puffed quietly, legs stuttering and shaking with such pleasure that you’re at an almost lost for words. so embarrassing you could barely pronounciate his name. your words broke and broke. “t-to-joiiii.”

“poor baby,” he whispers, fingers still shoved into your pussy. it stays there for the time being before you feel him curl his index finger just a few inches upward towards your sweet nub and you choke out a cry. “ooh. that’s a good little girl,” and his praises went straight to your heart. toji’s hand caressingly trailed down your chest towards your tummy before clearing his throat. “this won’t happen again, will it?”

“m-maybe.” you slur, and you’re taken aback once he turns you over to give you a chaste kiss.

toji stares at you before groaning. “thought you’d say that. what a fuckin’ shame,” and you gasp out a noise once toji makes you land on your chest before giving your ass a playful spank. “i’ve been too nice, princess. now i gotta really show you what your pictures did to me. so arch for me.”

[doiliedaze]

Pretty Thing

Warnings: somno, dub-con, restless/trouble sleeping reader, reader shaking ass, established relationship, Sevika makes reader smoke (weed), play wrestling turns to man handling, Sevika orders reader around, fingering (r! receiving), groping, praise (r! receiving)

Genre: smut, fluff

A/n: DARK FIC!! Thank you @bambishaven hope you enjoy this!!

───────┈ · ·

You know that when you feel your thoughts swarm your head that you aren't gonna be able to sleep. This the fifth time this month and you don't even know how many times in general you've felt like this! Regardless you're fucking exhausted and want some damn sleep.

So instantly you jump into your routine and hope to fall asleep! Setting up affirmations and soft music on the laptop while doing some skincare.

Although the lighting is dim and the music is soft you can still feel your brain full force! While your mochi face mask dries you decided to get into some comfort pajamas and check on your hair under your strawberry bonnet knowing you probably shifted something already.

The mix on your laptop ended and a suggested playlist started to play. You were tryna keep everything low energy but when you heard "Freak Hoe" flow through your speakers you had to shake some ass!

You scurry from the bathroom to the floor length mirror in your room as look back at it. The movements of your ass eating up them shorts!

It definitely took your energy but wasn’t enough to make you sleepy, just huff and puff.

You open the window and let the cold air hit your face calming you down!

In your heart of hearts you know the one thing that’ll put you to sleep: Sevika.

The sensual scent of smoke and mocha. Her luring voice and big hands. Her natural confidence all of her just makes you relax.

The clock reads 2:00 am so you know she’s up but you don’t wanna bother her!

Fate was on your side because she called two minutes later, asking to come over. So now you wait patiently by the door.

You didn’t have to as she has a key but it gave you and advantage to jump on her when she entered!

“Woah? There’s no need for this much energy I thought I’d find you in bed wallowing at least.” She chuckles as she adjusts you in her arms.

“Nope had to wait for my Vika! And I can’t sleep but it’s more so about you!”

Her grey eyes soften as she notices the restlessness behind those pretty brown eyes.

“Lemme make you something” she whispers as she pecked your nose. “Only if you want”

“Well I do so just sit and relax for me okay?”

Silently you walk to the couch as you relax your body and watch her get to work. Zoning in on her back muscles when she takes her jacket off. Her wife pleaser hugging her just right!

The smells in the kitchen start to flow into your nose and your heart swoons. Your big bad girlfriend is making you Khichdi.

“Here” she states as she places it in front of you.

“Did you poke a smiley face into it?”

“Thought you’d like it…” she grumbles slightly flustered.

“I do! Thank you vika” you kiss her flesh knuckles then her metal ones.

Honestly sleep was starting to seep into you especially after the meal and Sevika carrying you to bed. But there is something itching to keep you up and it’s almost 4 am!

“Take this” she whispers as she hands you the pre-roll. Never opposed to a puff here and there you take it.

You were expecting the weed to lull you at least a little but it gave you an energy of sorts.

“Alright we gotta do something to tire me!” You whine feeling bad about keeping your girlfriend up but you need this!

“I could fuck you to sleep”

“That was so corny” you laugh and with a half smile she says, “can’t be so corny if I’ve done it before!”

“Girl no you haven’t!”

“Oh really?” She says as she snatched you up. Instinctively you push her away with her feet. That put some distance between y’all but she ends up slamming you into the bed.

“Okay she-hulk!”

“Fuck you” She snorts then clears her throat, “let me help you fall asleep though”

“Just thirsty for it huh?” “Shut the fuck up before I leave!” She says letting your wrist go and your hands shoot up to grab her torso, “please don’t go!”

“Why not you’re being a brat?”

“I’ll be good, I promise” you say as you take another hit of the blunt finally feeling the smoke in your head take over.

Her eyes lock onto yours as she leans in for a kiss and you just blow smoke onto her face.

A smile twitches on Sevikas lips as she takes the blunt. “Can’t keep your promises for shit huh?”

Before you could respond she pushes you off the bed, “damn!” You laugh as you lay sprawled out on the floor.

“Get the fuck up.” When you heard her tone you pop up, wobbly but quickly!

She was laid back against your bed frame and her eyes narrowly stare at you. Her pointer finger beckons you over and you listen.

She makes you wait like a dumb puppy before she pats her lap. Eager you sit down and let your back sink into her chest, craning your neck to look up at her.

Her scent and the need not to piss her off makes you relax in her embrace, stressing your little mind out on how to be good for her.

Sevikas hand caresses your inner thigh as she sees you drift off to sleep.

“Finally” she mutters to her herself as she moves those flimsy excuse of sleeping shorts out her fingers way so she can enter your welcoming cunt!

Her mechanical hand gliding under your shirt to play with your nipple. Squeezing and pulling them. You sleepily moan her name causing her to smile, “such a good girl when you wanna be” she whispers.

She uses her foot to open you leg up more to give her fingers a deeper access.

Her middle and ring finger beginning to pick up the place.

“Got you all to myself—fuck you’re such a pretty little thing” she mutters as the squelches of your pussy makes her clit throb.

“Vika” you moan, big brown eyes looking up at her through your lashes.

“Yes baby girl?”

You mutter incoherently and she just smiles, “be quiet okay?” Sleepily you nod, “good job” she snickers, enjoying how reliant you are on her.

Sevika speeds her fingers up and your hips shake but your jaw is slack against her. “This is my pussy yeah? Mine to take…fuck you keep sucking me up.” She groans as the sensation of you clenching around her heightens as you reach your orgasm.

Quickly her fingers retract to rub circles on your clit to help you ride out your high and to kneed the plush of your breast.

She sucks on her fingers as he head rests against the headboard while she calms herself down. Gently she rolls you off and on your side, hand never leaving your boob.

Sevika drifts off into sleep holding you tight as the cool night air flows into the room from a forgotten open window.

Next time you’ll cut the chase and call Sevika the moment you can’t sleep.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: wait dolls outta all the somno fics i wrote i think this one and Abby’s are my favorites! I hope y’all loved it and honestly I need this irl LMAOOOO

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife

Dividers- @dollywons

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that. 

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[brittle-doughie]

https://www.tumblr.com/brittle-doughie/785229344640483328/whod-be-the-most-likely-to-give-yn-the-omni-man?source=share

show us the speech

show us the speech

show us the speech

I’d be retreading what I wrote for it in the Warmth fic, but why not.

[Virtue of Compassion AU]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Your efforts will be for nothing! Joining my Spice Swarm will make Earthbread better than before! In FLAMES!”

“And what if every Cookie in the land resists?”

“Then they will all fall. One by one. One swing of my axe at a time. To show them how pointless it is that they continue to fight a useless battle.”

“I won’t let you. Golden Cheese Cookie won’t let you-“

Burning Spice stops you with a hit to your face, sending you back against the wall of his temple, barely standing up.

“YOU WANT TO CRUMBLE FOR HER?! VERY WELL! WHAT’S A DOZEN MORE EONS TO ME?! I CAN ALWAYS FIND ANOTHER LIKE YOU!! A BETTER Y/N COOKIE!!”

He kept hitting you and hitting you, yet your dough does not waver. His burning rage starts to wear down with that look of content on your face, as bruised as it was…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“What are you doing out here? You’re going to miss those Cookies begin the start of a new civilization!”

“It’s just going to be how the rest of the civilizations we’ve looked at will turn out. They rise, they fall, they rise, they fall. It always changing, yet never seems to change…”

“Is that you think? Why think of the inevitable end when we can cherish the moments that we can have now? Have these thoughts been troubling you lately?”

“For years. The only reason I’ve continued to endure this cycle was because of your ceaseless pleas.”

“And is it working, you grump?”

“Tch. As ashamed as I am to admit it, but yes.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Even if everything changes and remains the same around us, when Cookies come and go, we’ll still have each other, right?”

Burning Spice Cookie scoffed at your notion….

….but he couldn’t help but let a small smile creep up on his face as you patted his shoulder.

“Come on, they’re about to celebrate with a feast. They’ll have those meat jellies you love so much.”

Burning Spice watched on for a moment as you head off, you turn back to smile at him before continuing. He takes that as his cue and follows after you down towards the budding civilization.

For him? Yeah, Compassion was worth it…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His angry expression slowly falters as he kept his raised fist in the air, specks of jam littering his hand….he couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore…

“Bah! Damn it all….”

He lets you go and falls to his knees, as you slouched against in the wall in front of him. All that he could hear was your steady, but shaking breathing.

He looks at your state, and then gets angry again…

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DO THIS?! YOU’RE STANDING AGAINST ME, SO THAT EVERYONE AROUND YOU WILL CRUMBLE! THINK, Y/N COOKIE, THINK! YOU WILL OUTLAST EVERY FRAGILE, WEAK COOKIE IN THE LAND! YOU WILL LIVE TO SEE YOUR KINGDOM CRUMBLE TO DUST AND TURN TO NOTHING!”

“EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING YOU KNOW. WILL. BE. GONE. TURNED TO NOTHING.”

You continue to just steadily breathe…

“WHAT WILL YOU HAVE AFTER 500 HUNDRED EONS?!”

….

….

….

….

….

“You, Burning Spice Cookie. We’ll still have each other….”

Burning Spice’s face turns to surprise as he jumped back…those words….he still remembers those words…one of the many of the memories he still held onto…of them….

…

…

He didn’t notice it yet, but the tears were coming back…

“B-Burning Spice Cookie…?”

….

….

….

“…..Compassion…?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[itzpookiepooh]

I didnt know you did requestss, I love your writing so much! if it's not too much trouble, I'd love to see you write the guys' reaction to an mc who's just comically clueless? doesn't catch hints, and flirting goes over the head. even when they've already stablished a relationship, they still doesn't see it coming when the guys want a kiss or more and it always makes mc freeze for a sec like "ooh" and it's just funny. the lis have to very direct, its like mc is on loading screen 99% of the time lmao sorry if its complicated or too specific

Oh, Me!

Thank you so much! I got you don’t worry!

Caleb loves you he swears he does but you were just so clueless. Any advance he try you would not understand at all. He tried to kiss you you’d coincidentally move out of the way. If he tried to flirt you would laugh it off as if he was cracking a joke. Today he was planning on asking you out and everything had to be perfect…for his sake.

He set out a perfect dinner and wondered how to come about everything. You were ready to eat, you had been hungry all day especially since Caleb insisted that you don’t fill up on anything. You tapped your finger on the table waiting for the food to get here. Caleb was nervous practically sweating bullets.

“Hey pipsqueak…” He trails off placing a hand on the table. You turn to him fluttering your lashes with big clueless eyes.

“What’s up?” You ask, he gulps before answering, “I like you. I mean really like you.” His voice shaky with nerves.

“Well I’d hope so we grew up together.” You laugh and tap his hand playfully. He sighs, there you go again.

“No like I really like you like I want to be with you.” He explains both elbows now on the table as he does so. You blink at him still not getting it. Are you not together right now?

A dramatic sigh leaves Caleb as he leans back dramatically in his seat. He throws himself forward and grabs your hands.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” He says bluntly. You chuckle before answering, “Oh I get it. You’re practicing!” She taps the said of her head and makes a duh motion with her mouth.

Caleb wanted to pull his hair out. You were so…special. So clueless and yet so smart at the same time. He could only blame himself for this because he asked you last week but the way he asked made it seem like he was practicing on you. He grabbed your cheeks making you look at him.

“I like you, love you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I’m real life right now.” He emphasizes making your eyes go wide as if you just figured out a worldwide mystery.

“Oh! Yes of course.” You answered making him sigh in relief. Finally!

Zayne is use to you being mildly confused. It was what ultimately drew him to you other than your caring nature. Him telling you he wanted to be with you was one thing but now he had to go through the process again. He sighed at the thought but it was worth it in the end.

So on a walk, hand in hand, he took a deep breath. This was it. You were enjoying the scenery around you as the quiet evening sky fell over you. The sunset painting the sky beautifully. He admired you as he holds your hand tighter.

“I want to tell you something.” His usual low tone flows through your ears. You look up at him with hopeful eyes.

“I want to take a step toward our future.” He tells you as you glance at him occasionally.

“Like getting a dog! I’ve always wanted a dog!” You excitedly bounce holding his hand to your chest. He blinks before shaking his head at how you threw him off.

“No I want us to be closer.” He tells you as you continue to walk. You think to yourself before snapping.

“Like getting a smaller bed!” You chuckle as if you were the brightest crayon in the box. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want us to move in together.” He tells you bluntly. You squeal in excitement, “Like roommates!”

“Why would we be roommates?” He pauses to question you. Why wouldn’t you be roommates? That’s literally what two people moving in are like!

“Because we live together….” You both just stare at each other.

“I’m your boyfriend.” He states the obvious. You nod firmly. “Exactly like roommates version.” You agree.

“Oh my gosh.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Rafayel was on the verge of pulling his hair out. He had been flirting with you all day and you were just not catching on. If he could pull his eyeballs out he would. He called you cute and you said thank you and complimented him back. Fine, whatever. He wrapped his arm around you during the movie and you scooted over thinking you were in his way. He kissed the icing off your face and you told him he could’ve just used a napkin so he wouldn’t get dirty. He couldn’t win.

“How clueless are you?” He asks you on the cusp of irritation. You tilt your head confused on why he asked.

“I’m not.” You tell him. He huffs narrowing his eyes at you.

“I’ve been flirting with you all day and you haven’t noticed me ONCE!” He complains slamming his hands on the bed.

“Really? When?” You ask him as he names off every instance today. “That was you flirting?” He felt a pang in his chest.

“Are you playing with me or something?” He deadpans but you were so very serious.

“Nope sorry.” You tell him as he pouts. He gets up and kisses you putting you in a daze.

“I’ve wanted a kiss this whole time.” He pouts holding your cheeks.

You blink slowly at him before nodding, “Noted.”

Sylus is such a sweetheart. A patient, loving, sweetheart. You were so clueless to his advances and it was kind of funny to him he won’t lie. He flirts with you and you take it literally. It made him and the twins laugh so hard to the point of tears.

You walked by him as he was reading and he decided to test you. He knew how you’d react and that was the fun in it. You were going out for the afternoon and were fixing your jeans.

“Do you have any room in your jeans for me, sweetie?” He smirks at you putting down his book. You raise an eyebrow at him. Of course you didn’t these were already tight as is.

“No? Why would you want to wear these with me in them?” You replied genuinely confused what his problem was.

The twins were wheezing from the doorway. You were always like this. They didn’t know if you were joking at first but now they know you’re dead serious. You look at them with your hands on your hips, concerned. What was so funny?

“What?” You didn’t appreciate being laughed at. You wanted to get the joke.

“Sweetie I’m flirting.” Sylus tells you through his laughter. A lightbulb goes off as your mouth makes an ‘O’.

“Oh…sorry.” You sheepishly replied. Sylus didn’t mind he thought you were hilarious.

You and Xavier are the same amount of aloof and everyone knows it. Xavier was subtly trying to flirt and you were not getting it. He thought he was pretty smooth though even if you didn’t get it. You were dressed up nice already for your date. Xavier couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he wanted to ravish you.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you making you get shy. You wave him off, “Thanks.” His eyes grow dark as he thought of what to say next.

“It would look even better on the bedroom floor.” He smirks at you making you freeze and stare at him.

“What?” You raise your eyebrow. He smiles softly at you as if he didn’t say anything.

“I said it would look even better on the bedroom floor.” He repeated making you stare at him blankly.

“I don’t get it. Why would I do that? That’s making a mess.” You tell him crossing your arms. He chuckles before walking up to you and whispering in your ear.

“Oh! Xavier don’t be nasty!” You smack his arm making him fall out laughing. You were flustered the rest of the night because he kept flirting with you.

This took a minute but aye I hope I got it right 😅

[crowsofdarkness]

pairings: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x female!reader

Bucky reminds you who you belong to.

18+ cw's below the cut: kinda dominant!bucky, oral with both female and male receiving, fingerings, bucky making you clean his fingers.

I was in huge trouble. 

Big, big trouble. 

I was supposed to meet up with Bucky for our morning meeting at The New Avengers tower but we had an argument last night which caused me to spend the night at my old apartment. I still kept it even though I moved into the tower with the other Thunderbolts but only went when certain circumstances called for it. 

Like last night. 

I knew I couldn’t avoid Bucky forever so I sucked up the feelings of anger and remorse and headed back to the tower. The second the doors slid open and I stepped inside to the main area, a bunch of different eyes set on me. Yelena and Bob were off in the corner, Ava and John were once again bickering about something, and Alexi was eating a bowl of wheaties on the couch. 

However, I paid none of them any attention. My eyes were on Bucky who sat at the large conference like table, dark eyes pinning me in place while steepling his fingers underneath his chin. 

Not only did I stay away from him last night, I’d been ignoring his texts and calls. 

Before I could open my mouth to utter a hello, Bucky was on me like a hunter on prey with his hand wrapping around my wrist and pulling me down the hallway, away from everyone.

"What the fuck?" I snapped, completely taking off guard by his dominance.

But also very turned on. The damp spot on my panties was proof of it.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Bucky's voice was eerily calm which made me nervous.

"I-uh-I spent the night at my old place," I said.

Bucky's eyes flashed as he pressed his hips deeper into me, keeping me locked in place. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep the moan quiet because I didn't want Bucky to know how much his actions were turning me on.

"Why didn't you call or text me back?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "I told you I needed space! You called me your girlfriend last night and I didn’t think we were at that point yet.” 

It was true. We’d been hooking up on the side every now and then but I wasn’t ready to put a label on it. 

My voice carried down the hall which earned a few stares from people working backstage so Bucky looked around before noticing a closet a few feet away from us. He pushed me towards it and soon we were encased in darkness, our heavy breathing the only sound echoing in the small space.

A faint light clicked on from above and I saw only a fraction of Bucky's tender yet hard features as he linked our fingers together to pull me into his chest. He towered over me so I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, his fire eyes burning deep into my soul.

"You don't think we're dating?" Bucky questioned.

I gulped before shaking my head. "No, we're not."

He hummed, brushing his nose against mine. "What do you call what we've done together then?"

I was careful to lick my dry lips, not wanting my tongue to brush against him.

"We hooked up, that's it. If you could even call it that. You got me off twice, no big deal," I lied with a shrug.

Bucky chuckled as he buried his face in my neck, his warm breath cascading over me as his hand gripped my throat, vibranium thumb on my pulse point.

Oh. Shit.

I squeezed my thighs together so hard I thought I would strain a muscle. I had every intention of ignoring Bucky, only focusing on work, but now with his hand around my throat and wetness pooling between my legs, I knew I was fucked.

Figuratively and possibly literally.

Hopefully literally.

With a gentle squeeze, Bucky forced my head to the side so he could get better access to my neck, him working to leave a red mark there. His teeth scraped and pulled causing a harsh moan to fall from my lips.

"This isn't dating?"

I went to shake my head but realized I couldn't do to his grip on me so instead, I let out a hushed no in response. With the hand still wrapped around my throat, Bucky's other hand brushed over the valley between my breasts, down my stomach, and slipped underneath the waistband of my leggings. Long fingers glided over my slit through my panties and I bucked my hips up into the touch, needing more.

"What about this?"

Bucky pushed two fingers past my panties and sunk deep into my pussy.

"Fuck," I groaned as the sensation of his fingers thrusting in and out in rapid pace ignited every cell inside of me.

"You said it meant nothing but what's this baby?"

He pulled his fingers out, the sudden emptiness making me whine. He smirked as he held up the two fingers under the light and my pupils dilated when I saw them glisten with my arousal coating the tattoos. Bucky brought them to my lips, his own pupils blown with lust.

"Lick," he demanded.

Something inside me burned other than arousal and I stood taller against him.

"Lick them yourself," I tossed back with a smug smile.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he forced my mouth open with the hand around my throat and pushed his two fingers past my lips.

"Be a good fucking girl and lick them clean."

My pussy clenched around nothing and suddenly wanting to obey because of the praise, I wrapped my tongue around his fingers and licked up my arousal. I didn't even cum but his fingers were soaked. Bucky's chest vibrated in approval when he pulled his fingers out, a loud pop echoing in the confined space.

"On your knees," his hand left my throat to push me down.

Not wanting to disobey again, I fell to my knees and gazed up at him through my lashes. Bucky cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip.

"You did so good sucking my fingers. Why don't you do that to my cock?"

The base of my spine ignited with warmth at his words and I made quick work of undoing his pants, the outline of his hard dick pressing, almost begging, to be released from his briefs. I gazed back up at Bucky, a silent question he answered with a nod.

I pushed down his pants and briefs to mid thigh and watched as his cock bounced free, slapping against his thigh.

"Oh, God." I licked my lips at the sight of it.

"There's no god here, baby. Just us," Bucky guided the head of his cock towards my mouth, pre-cum spilling out from the slit. "Open."

Not wanting to waste another second, I took in as much as I could, nearly gagging on the length of it. Bucky tasted so fucking delicious and whatever I couldn't fit in my mouth, I wrapped my fingers around it. While my head bobbed up and down his length, sucking as I went, my hand squeezed and pulled. At one point, I hollow my cheeks so I could take even more of him. Bucky's hands had a death grip in the strands of my hair and the burn at my scalp made me moan which vibrated against his cock.

"So good." He purred. "Oh shit, right there."

I pressed my tongue on the underside of him, right below the head, and my body vibrated with his praise. The wetness between my thighs was now warm and sticky, my clit begging to be touched so I went to slip a finger in my leggings but Bucky's harsh voice stopped me.

"Don't you fucking do it. You walked away from me, Y/N so you don't get to cum."

My nails dug into the skin of his thigh, making him hiss in pain, but his grip was so tight on my scalp that I wasn't able to pull off of him to argue. I was so close that just a few short circles against my clit would be enough to tip me over the edge.

"You're mine." He enunciated each word with a thrust.

"Mhmm," I hummed.

His breath was erratic. "I'm yours, baby."

This time I nodded, working harder to make him come undone.

Bucky's body tensed and when I looked up at him, his head had fallen back and lips were parted. Sheer ecstasy radiated off of him and it made me want to make him fall apart for me. My tongue circled the head of his cock while my hand now played with his smooth balls and Bucky bit out a strand of curses.

"Fuck. I'm gonna-," he uttered.

I moaned over his cock, edging him on, and with a loud groan Bucky spilled himself deep in the back of my throat

"Every. Last. Drop," he demanded with languid thrusts into my throat.

I did, greedily.

With his grip still in my hair, he yanked me off of him to my feet and I wiped away the drool with the back of my hand. Bucky lifted me on top of a set of crates in the closet and kicked my feet apart so he could spread me wide for him. I leaned all of my weight back on my hands and lifted my hips when he began clawing at my leggings working to take them off.

"Bucky," I whined. "Don't tease me, please."

His intense gaze flashed up at me. "I had every intention of not letting you cum but now I want to taste you on my tongue when I make you fall apart."

Bucky Barnes will be the death of me.

He slipped me out of both my leggings and panties, leaving me bare in front of him. My knees instinctually pressed together to hide from him but his large hands forced them apart, leaving bruising marks there.

"No. You don't get to hide from me. Anything. Alright?"

I let out a soft whimper, knowing when he said anything, he truly meant that; anything. I could tell him things I was afraid of and he wouldn't judge me or run away. Bucky didn't want me to hide from him and after this moment, I wouldn't.

Not anymore.

Seeing the answer on my face, Bucky yanked me closer to the edge of the crates then leaned down on his knees becoming eye level with my drenched pussy.

"Fuck," his breath fanned over it. "It's so pretty.”

My nails dug into his scalp to force him closer to me; I was aching for some kind of friction, almost begging for it.

"Please, Bucky. I can't," my voice sounded wrecked.

His tongue darted out to lap at my clit, and I almost came. Bucky licked from my clit, down the entire folds of my entrance and when he speared his tongue into me, I cried out his name.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"Bucky," I rasped.

He replaced his tongue with two fingers, going knuckle deep, while his tongue attacked my clit in such an assault I raised off of the crates trying to create some distance. Bucky's free hand held me down with a hand on my stomach before sliding up underneath my shirt and bra to pinch and pull on my nipples.

This was it; the dam was about to burst, my orgasm so fucking close to crashing through my entire soul.

Bucky's fingers pumping in and out, his tongue ruthless licks on my clit, and him rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger was enough for me to strangle out his name in a prayer, my orgasm causing my body to quake underneath him. When the aftershocks began to fade is when Bucky finally pulled away, my cum coating his lips and jaw.

With my hand gripping his forearm, I pulled him up while I met him halfway, legs wrapping around him and I smashed my lips to his. Bucky didn't miss a single second of the kiss, him immediately forcing his tongue in my mouth so I could taste myself. I groaned in the most intense, teeth clattering, tongue dancing, lips bruising kiss I'd ever experienced. Bucky kissed me like a man starved and I was his last meal.

Finally, needing to take a breath, I pulled away and rested my forehead against his.

"Wow," was all I said because after everything that just happened, the kiss was the most knee buckling one.

Bucky beamed at me before laying another quick peck on my lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

I brushed the hair out of his eyes and nodded. "Me too."

His eyes had softened back to their normal brown as he linked our hands together. “I never meant to scare you last night. I just meant it as you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else but you, okay?”

"Okay," I murmured with a slight smile. 

He gently helped me off the crates and once on my feet, Bucky pulled up my panties then my leggings as I brushed my shirt back down to cover my stomach. He must have tucked his cock back into his pants without me knowing cause he shut the light of the closest and pulled me back into the brightly lit hallway. I blinked a few times so my eyes could focus and when they did, I noticed a few people standing in front of us. .

"We were wondering where you two headed," Yelena said with a very smug smile on her lips, her arms crossed over her chest. 

My cheeks burned red as Bucky wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. "Sorry, we got a little distracted."

Alexi let out a deep belly chuckle. "Well, we have a meeting in two minutes. Are ya ready?” 

"Oh fuck," I muttered. "How long were we in there?"

Bob ruffled my hair before walking away with Yelena and Alexi. "Awhile"

Bucky held me back for a few beats to place a chaste kiss on my lips, one I eagerly returned. “Worth it.”