#but what if he just keeps going back to the same place like just keeps doubling back because oooooo that’s an interesting smell or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p4ranormaluv · 1 day ago

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BEWITCHED — 재윤, 제이

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren't sex gods or evil devils like the people warn, they've never drank human blood or even lost their virginity. in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they've touched a woman's hand and they drink animal's blood. when they find out you've been blamed for their actions, the townspeople accusing you of witchcraft and sacrificing livestock, the two men try their best to help prove your innocence. in exchange you offer them your blood.

PAIRING: vampire!jake x f!reader x vampire!jay

GENRE: smut, romance, angst, dark fantasy au

CONTENTS: vague historical setting, strangers to poly relationship (no mlm), lovey dovey petnames (fight me), mutual love bombing? (in a good way), getting frisky in a corn maze, witches & trials, brief talk of animal sacrifices/death, biting & blood drinking, hanging, past death/side character death (with graphic desc.), one pride and preduduce reference, ft. jungwon, not proofread (it’s way too long i’m sorry)

SMUT WARNINGS: under the cut!

WC: 22.7k

NOTE: there’s title markers to help you find your spot from where you last read! if you like this work please tell me <3 i realize this might not be everyone’s type of fic, but i’m hoping there’ll be a few others who enjoy it. lengthy feedback is welcome as always :)

SMUT WARNINGS: two smut scenes (but they’re long af), virgin!jayke, sub!jayke & dom!reader (maybe kinda switchy at times), bedroom titles (puppy, angel, miss, etc), jayke get turned on by drinking your blood, voyeurism (jake watches you bathe), masturbation, jay is the goodest boy, jake is a pervy cuck in disguise as a good boy, oral sex, piv, creampie (vamps can’t procreate), breeding kink, praise/light degradation, making love but it’s filthy, double penetration, a little crying, breast stim, jayke eat you out at the same time

GUIDED BY FLAMES;

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren’t sex gods or evil devils like the people warn. they’ve never drank human blood or even lost their virginity.

in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they’ve touched a woman’s hand and they drink animal blood.

“what the hell did this thing eat? it tastes awful.” jay complains after retracting his fangs from the creature’s body.

“it’s a goat, jay. most likely leftover slop.” jake answers as he watches in disgust at how jay’s mouth latches onto the goat’s furry flesh.

“would you stop staring at me like that?”

“you look like a heathen.” jake smirks at his own teasing, satisfied at the way jay’s eyes roll in annoyance, continuing to feed.

“i don’t understand how you can just drink it straight from the source. isn’t it disgusting?”

“i was starving. i didn’t want to wait for us to drain the carcass.” jay answers after drinking the creature dry, tossing it in a nearby wooden crate after.

later on the two boys will take the crate and descend into the forest to burn the body and destroy any evidence. but for now they go back inside the ‘abandoned’ cathedral— in which they’ve lived in for years. it’s the one place they feel safe— far away enough from the town line to keep them hidden, but close enough for them to walk by foot whenever they're due for another ‘blood run’.

of course they try their best to catch the wild animals that live in the forest before stealing the townspeople’s livestock, but they’re no huntsmen. the best the boys usually can catch is a hare or squirrel— and unfortunately, they’re not very filling.

“hey,” jake taps jay’s shoulder as they enter the high ceiling room they converted into a sitting area. there's a scarlet lounge couch, side table, pin cushion chair, as well as a few decorative items that they either found or were left behind.

jay turns to look skeptically at jake, the latter gesturing to his own teeth with a single pointed finger.

“you’ve got a little something here.”

“where?” jay asks with concern, immediately trying to scratch out whatever remains between his fangs.

“i think it’s…fur.” jake says with over dramatics, leaning in with faux concern and promptly bursting into a fit of giggles after.

jay realizes his sarcasm, nudging him firmly on the shoulder. “damn you.” he bites with only minor annoyance, most of it only for show as he lays down over the scarlet couch.

“we already are.” jake smirks, moving to sit in the chair he often occupies, picking up a book he’s just reached the middle mark of.

“clever.” jay replies flatly, the room falling into silence as the older shuts his eyes and the latter begins reading silently.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you’re out of breath, the cold night air causing your throat and chest to ache as you continue running into unknown darkness. you can no longer see the orange glow of the townspeople’s flaming torches— and the echo of their angry shouts grow fainter.

due to having no light before you other than the stars above, you trip over a fallen stick that snaps under your weight, causing you to harshly hit the ground. you huff— mostly by annoyance rather than the minor pain.

you can’t believe you’ve gone from being a…well— you were about to think ‘a well respected citizen’, but the townspeople hardly even treated you humanely. your father was a bastard child, so you were doomed from the start. your low status only added as reason for their distaste towards you— in the majority of the townspeople’s minds at least.

regardless, you never would have imagined they would accuse you of witchcraft— but here you are, groveling in the dirt as you run away from a mob of men and women with pitchforks and torches, wanting to capture you and put you on trial. (which are known to be unfathomably unfair.)

picking up your skirts to prevent further tripping, you stand up with a bothered pinch to your brow and continue forward.

you’re not sure what you’re going to do, but you certainly can’t return back to town right now— it would be certain death.

so you keep walking…and walking.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but you’re certain the moon has risen higher in the sky than when you first started your trek.

then you see the faint glow of something in the distance.

your eyes narrow— stilling as you worry it may be the flame of someone’s torch, hunting you down. but the light is coming from the opposite direction of town— and by the looks of it, you’re deep into the thickest part of the forest at this point. it can’t be anyone seeking to throw a noose around your neck, surely.

so with hopeful energy in your steps, you walk closer to the light.

it leads you to an old cathedral that appears to have three levels. the faint glow of candle light comes from the second story’s window on the left. without thinking there’s any reason to knock, or that whoever’s up there would be able to hear you, you grab the large door's eccentric knob and open it.

it’s creaks, the sound making a chill run down your spine as the place is completely dark other than the moonlight pouring through the windows— though it’s not enough light for you to be able to see properly.

you take a few hesitant, fearful steps, thinking of how you’re in a very vulnerable position right now. someone could easily grab and hurt you— or do whatever they wanted, especially while you’re out in the middle of a forest. your father would surely have a heart attack from nerves. but you realize with a heavy heart that he must be feeling that way right now, wondering where his daughter is— or if you’ve been captured in prison, waiting to be put to trail.

you’re broken out of your depressing thoughts when you spot a lit candle in its holder down a long hall.

still walking slowly (and you’re not sure if it’s because you feel like you’re trespassing or from the fear of your own footsteps echoing eerily around you), you reach the single legged table that the candle sets upon, picking it up and holding it in front of you, revealing a staircase at the end of the hall.

you feel as though an eternity has passed when you finally reach the third floor. your overly cautious steps and halting every few seconds to peer into the darkness whenever you think you see or hear something is probably what’s to blame for it.

the weight of dread grows heavy in your stomach as you worry you’ll have to open every door in this endless hallway to find which room the light is coming from, but luckily, one of the doors is cracked, and you know it must be the room you’re looking for as the flickering light of candle flame reflects against the floor.

with a heart you feel is about to beat out of your chest, you slowly open the door.

“…hello?”

you’re brows furrow in confusion to find the room completely empty, yet appearing as though someone was just here?

there’s at least ten candles, all lit and resting on various surfaces, the white wax dripping down its base and golden stands as they’re clearly well used. a rug is on the dark hardwood floors, a large bookshelf with a plethora of old books, and two choices of where to sit.

you walk closer to one of the chairs, head tilting as you look at the book that lays on its seat cushion.

‘first folio’ it reads, ‘by william shakespeare’.

its blood red cover is stark against the dark fabric of the chair, the book laying spine up as if it was dropped haphazardly…

your stomach suddenly drops as you feel the powerful sensation of fear— like the impending feeling of doom is about to dig its claws into you.

you turn to run out of the room when you feel strong arms wrapping around yours, some sort of sack being thrown over your head.

you scream— blood curdling with the unmistakable sound of terror as you can hardly even muster the strength to struggle against the strong hold restricting your limbs and waist.

“please, please! let me go!”

you hear the sound of another body other than the one behind you, the second person sounding like they’re standing in front of you.

“please, don’t hurt me.” you start to sob, voice weak as you almost slump in your capture’s arms.

“why are you here?” the person— a man— in front of you asks, his tone deep and dangerous, like a warning.

“i— i…” you’re unsure of how to gather your words, especially in your panic and between tearful gasps of breath.

you decide to simply settle for the truth, you’re rather sure you won’t come out of this situation alive either way.

“i was ran out of town.”

the body against your back stiffens just a smidgen, but you don’t miss it.

“they— they think i’m a witch.” you sniffle, eyes watering again as you release this is how you will die, in darkness with a broken heart— ran out of town with the reputation of a poor seamstress and supposed witch. your father won’t ever know what’s become of you, forced to live the rest of his lonely life with the memory of your late mother and missing daughter.

“…are you?” the voice asks again, and you almost wonder if it’s even the same person with how much softer it sounds.

“no, no, i’m— i’m not.”

“and it’s…just you? do you have any weapons?”

“no.” you answer simply, voice cracking with desperation.

a few beats of silence pass, yet you feel as though something is happening between the two people.

“unhand her.”

“what! she could—“

“look at her, jay! she can do us no harm.”

another beat of silence, then a sigh right behind your head before the sack is pulled off and your arms are freed.

you blink hard to adjust your eyes and diminish your onslaught of tears. the blurry body of the man in front of you, and the second one who moves away from behind you to stand beside the other, slowly focus into view.

“who…who are you?” you breathe, trying to catch the breath you’ve lost from fright as you look at the two young men in front of you.

one’s eyes carry the softness of pity in them as he looks at you, longer, brown hair peeking out from the back of his neck just slightly as he stands with his hands holding themselves in front of him. he’s dressed in nice attire, a black waist coat with matching pants and boots, a white long sleeve underneath.

the second man was dressed similarly, but completely black— just like his shorter cut hair and bottomless eyes that bore into you. he reminded you of a snake— seconds away from striking.

and yet, even in your terror you could recognize that they were undeniably handsome.

“who are you is the better question.” the raven haired bites, tone harsh and slightly raised in volume.

“stop it.” the brunet interjects with scolding eyes, putting a hand to the other’s arms that are crossed defensively.

when he looks to you, his eyes soften immediately, tone gentle— as though he’s talking to a frightened animal. and you can’t really blame him for that. your legs are still trembling. you wonder if they can tell even with your long dress.

“i’m terribly sorry, miss. we really didn’t intend to scare you—“

“why do they think you to be a witch?” the other interrupts, voice demanding. the softer sighs, pinching is brow in annoyance.

“the…the livestock. more and more are vanishing. the townspeople think the animals are being used for sacrifices.”

the sharper one’s eyes widen for a moment, you seemingly catching him of kilter a bit. the other looks like he’s about to be downright sick.

“they…the animals?” he mumbles in shock, staring at you.

“what reasons do they have to think it’s you?” the dark one asks, slightly less demanding this time but still remaining stern.

“what reasons do they have for anyone?” you respond immediately, snapping slightly as your usual gumption rears its head at the mention of the subject that fills you with so much rage and sorrow. “they hung my own mother because of a baseless accusation of witchcraft— a nine year old girl was the most recent hanging.”

the raven haired swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as his hard exterior dwindles more and more.

he turns to his anxious looking companion, the two of them sharing a look that somehow looks just as dumbfounded as it does all-knowing.

“what are we to do?” the dark one (what did the other man call him earlier— jay?) asks, sounding completely lost as the other just shakes his head in disbelief.

“um— perhaps…uh,” jay stutters, turning between looking at you and the other. “give us a few moments to…discuss.”

you stare at him, standing stalk still— because what else can you do except go along with their every whim, you’re the one at a disadvantage here.

jay grabs the other’s arm, leading him out of the room before he turns to you once more, right before he shuts the door.

“and��please don’t try and jump out the window, alright?” he genuinely warns.

you hear the click of the knob, and you sigh as you now know he’s just locked you inside.

you stay in your spot, tears stopping but the tingle of your previous and slightly remaining fear lingering on your arms. but after what feels like a handful of minutes pass, you move to sit down on the chase couch. you haven’t had the chance to think about how tired you are from all the emotional exhaustion and running until your body meets the softness of the couch.

before you know it, your body drifts down to lower against the cushions, and you drift off to sleep.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you’re slowly roused from the fog of sleep as you feel a poke to your arm.

“is she cattle? don’t prod her like that.”

“well i don’t know what to do! i’ve never woken a sleeping woman before, jake!”

you take a deep inhale as your eyes blink open, mind starting to become clearer as you sit up and rub your eyes before looking at the men in front of you.

“…hi again, miss.” the brunet smiles, awkward but charmingly as you’re slightly surprised at the flutter in your stomach it causes you.

“i’d like to apologize, for—…” the other begins, seeming to have a hard time finding his words.

finally he starts over, holding his hand out to you with a slight bow. he looks up at you through his eyebrows, a slight curve to his lips that’s somewhat tilted, akin to a humble smirk.

“my names jay. i’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“likewise.” you reply, giving him your hand as he places the ghost of a kiss to it, showing his regret.

you’re a little unsure of how you should act. first they capture you, and now they’re acting gentlemanly?

“i’m y/n.”

“my names jake, miss y/n.” the barely shorter smiles, keeping a noticeable distance to you, especially compared to jay.

“so…” the other starts, looking back at jake for a reaffirming glance before holding your gaze. “we’ve come to an agreement. we’re going to help you.”

you falter, staring at them clearly confused. “i…why would you help me?”

“because we’re responsible for your misfortunes, miss.” jake replies, eyes flickering up to yours for a fleeting moment before looking down at his feet. he seems to be the shyer one out of the two.

“how…how are you…”

your eyes rake over their appearances one more time as you take in your situation.

you’re in the middle of a forest, in an old cathedral that these two men seem to live in. they’re young, seemingly healthy despite their slightly pale appearance. and aside from this well lit room, they seem to be entirely satisfied to wander around in the darkened halls.

and they’re saying they’re responsible…for….

your eyes flash with recognition that the two men are able to recognize, waiting and trying to prepare themselves for any reaction you may have.

“are you…vampires?”

“yes.” jay answers.

“but don’t be afraid!” jake adds, raising his hands in front of him as if to show his innocence. “we haven’t been…we’re not bad! and we’re not going to hurt you!”

“we don’t drink human blood.” jay continues calmly, a stark contrast to his friend. “that’s why the animals have been disappearing, we feed off of them instead.”

“you haven’t fed off of humans…ever?”

“only once, when we first turned. and that’s only because we’d gone mad from the transition.” jay promises with steady eyes. you look to jake, who almost flinches at your gaze, cheeks flaring into a pink blush as he shakes his head in confirmation.

you pause, deep in your head as you’re processing the information.

and your conclusion is— well, what else do you have to lose?

“so you’ll really help me?”

“we promise, lady y/n. we feel awful that it’s our fault you’re in this position— that anyone’s in this position at all, really.” jay assures. “we think it’d be a good idea to wait a good while though, until the villagers aren’t searching for you anymore?”

you nod your head in agreement, jay smiling and looking surprisingly sweet, completely unlike the stone cold man that interrogated you previously.

“great. and by that time, me and jake are hoping we’ll have devised a good enough plan. it might not sound like much but it’s the best we can offer.”

“no, that’s— this is a great help. thank you.”

“….and i’m terribly sorry i put that bag over your head!” jake bursts out awkwardly, the deeply sorry yet out of place confession making you gradually descend from a small giggle to full on laughter, jay joining you as well as he looks over at jake amusedly.

“let’s just forget about that. we’re starting fresh.” you smile.

the flustered boy is only able to respond with another nod, still unable to hold eye contact for very long.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

living with jay and jake is quaint, but there’s an undeniable charm to it— to them.

they bicker playfully often, but the moment they realize you’re watching with amused eyes or soft laughter, they pull apart as though embarrassed, brushing off their attire with blushed cheeks.

jay is ever the nurturer, always asking if you’re feeling well, physically and mentally. he’s the one who helped you adjust your sleeping schedule to their night time life— since they can’t walk in the sun. every time you woke, he’d be right there, a tray of delicious food that he prepared himself just for you.

“where did you learn to cook so skillfully? i must say, i didn’t expect a vampire to know how to prepare food so well when you don’t even eat yourself.” you asked while munching on a biscuit glazed in honey and butter.

jay smiled, the kind that has been making your stomach flounder like a fish lately— eyes sparkling and cheeks rising, a stark contrast to the handsome yet sharp expression his face usually rests in.

“i enjoyed cooking often before i turned.” he’d answered simply, leaving you to wonder about the life the both of them led before they became creatures cursed to the dark shadows of the night.

jake is akin to a skittish, stray puppy. it’s quite clear that he wants to speak to you more comfortably and spend time with you as jay does, but the moment you direct your attention to him he spirals into a stuttering mess with shaking pupils.

nevertheless, he’s incredibly polite.

you were balancing on a latter that was connected to the bookshelf, trying your hardest to grab a specific book that remained just out of your reach. you heard someone entering the room and turned your head out of instinct to see who it was, and you lost your footing.

your high pitched yelp and the squeak of shoes against hardwood was all that you can remember as you fell, before you fell into the surprisingly strong arms of—

“jake?”

“m— miss! you shouldn’t be on the latter when wearing such long of skirts!” he scolded, tone ever so gentle and sweet even as he did so.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized softly, feeling as though it was only appropriate given how close his face was to yours. jake suddenly became aware of this as you caught his eyes glancing down to your lips, before a raging red burned the tips of his ears, quickly spreading to his cheeks.

he put you down gently, but in a hurry— avoiding your gaze once again as he offered: “j— just tell me what you wish to read and i’ll get it for you, miss.”

irrefutably, they were kind hearted men— which is why it saddened you when they had to leave for hours on end almost every other day, struggling to catch anything significant in the forest, since they learned of the witch trails and stopped taking animals from the town.

you’ve thought heavily about it in the two weeks you’ve been here, and secretly you’ve collected and have been reading any book you could find in their vast collection about vampires.

just a few hours into the night and you see jay and jake looking out the window, judging by the rise of the moon what time it is.

you know they’re about to turn around to tell you they’re about to change and go on the hunt, and so you interrupt them before either of them can take a breath.

“i don’t want you to go hunting anymore.” you state almost a little too urgently, the two men turning to you with a look as though you’d grown two heads.

“but…my lady, we have to.” jay explains, almost sounding as though he’s asking a question with how confused he is over your outburst.

“what if you didn’t have to…” you begin, unsure of how to say it.

“what do you mean?” jake asks, a rare moment where he’s fully staring at you, bashfulness forgotten as you stand before them.

“i…i could give you my blood.”

jay’s eyes widen impossibly, and jake becomes so flustered he hides his face in his hands and turns his back to you in favor of staring out the window.

“y/n! but— you…it’s��”

jay’s eyes unfocus as his gaze is almost aimless, staring at nothing as you can tell he’s consumed by his thoughts.

then he clears his throat and shakes his head, your interest sparked as it’s rare for even him to be bashful— and if you didn’t know his expressions so well you would have missed it.

“it’s not…to be taken lightly, giving a vampire your blood. especially since…”

“since you haven’t fed off a human before, besides that one time. i know.” you begin, knowledgeable from your vampiric studying.

a vampire drinking blood, especially from a willing human— it’s intimate, and can sometimes be somewhat of a sexual act. especially when jay and jake have been deprived of human blood for such a long time, it’s more likely to get…intense. and you can’t lie, the thought thrills you— but that’s not even your intention. your purpose is pure. why have the boys go out every night to struggle to fill their appetite when you’re right here?

“i’m aware of it all, jay. and i still want to help you…if you want to have me.”

jake abruptly makes a choked sound that descends into a cough from your words, that he knows you didn’t mean to sound so…suggestive. and yet he finds himself having to talk himself down, desperate to calm the growing hardness between his legs before it’s noticeable.

jay stares at you with wide black eyes that can hold every spark of light in his irises, biting his lip and subsequently flashing his sharpened fangs at you. your heart stirs.

“are you…sure?”

“entirely, jay. i’ve thought of this for a while.”

“and you’re aware that it…will hurt, a bit.”

you nod your head, a small smile that’s meant to be soothing on your lips.

“i’m not one to be overly sensitive to pain.”

“…alright,” jay whispers, growing closer to stand before you, the tips of his shoes just beneath your skirts.

your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation, slowly pulling the sleeve of your bodice down to further reveal your neck and the junction of your shoulder, staring up at jay the entire time.

the raven haired man shudders a breath, unable to control where his gaze lands anymore as he looks from your face to the smooth skin of your clavicle, and how the short ruffled hem of your blouse frames it enticingly. your breathing becomes faster as jay finally closes the small remaining distance, hands holding your waist as he pulls you against him. his nose brushes against your cheek, and you can hear him taking a slow inhale.

“you smell good…like you’ll taste sweet.” he mutters almost to himself, but you feel your body reacting to his words and his breath fanning against your neck, large hands gripping your waist more firmly.

“your heart is beating faster.” jay wonders, leaning further down towards the junction of your shoulder. “are you ready, my lady?”

“yes, jay. go ahead…bite me.”

his mouth bares as he’s not slow in sinking his teeth into your flesh, making the pain not as bad— but it’s still enough to make you gasp, a burning hurt in your shoulder that turns into an odd yet tingly sensation as jay starts to suck.

you sigh as you get used to the feeling, jay’s lips pressing into your skin. his hands move in favor to wrap his arms entirely around your waist, and you find yourself having to surpass a moan at his chest being pressed against yours, and how his sucking spreads that tingly— growingly pleasurable weak sensation all over your body.

“jake,” you breathily call out, wanting the boy to get a taste before you’ll have to stop.

the brunet slowly turns around, big brown eyes glossy in the moonlight as they roam over your form that’s captured in jay’s hold. your dress has lowered even more, breasts peeking out from the top as your face is contorted into an almost pleasurable expression.

you look absolutely breathtaking— and delectable. which is maybe why jake hardly even notices how his feet take a step forward.

still, he’s hesitant, and you find yourself cooing to him with one arm outstretched.

“come, jakey. it’s okay. get your fill.”

you don’t miss the earnest whimper that he lets out before he’s suddenly in front of you, legs trembling as he stumbles to his knees beneath you. his hands are desperate and eager as he grabs your forearm, bringing himself closer until his teeth are piercing into your veins.

you can’t help the pained sound you let out, jake much more messy and uncoordinated with how he bites you, and him sucking right at your veins make that pleasurable feeling grow ten fold. your cunt pulses strongly between your legs, nipples hardening as you feel like everything becomes more sensitive.

your moan is crude, but the boys only react with throaty whines of their own as they press and suck their plush lips to your skin more desperately. all control has practically been lost between the three of you all at once, your thighs growing weaker as jake presses himself to your leg, one hand wrapping around it from beneath your dress while the other still holds your arm with bruising strength that you’re sure is unconscious. jake’s legs squeeze around your ankle, and that’s when you’re made aware of the distinct hardness his cock has turned. you find your foot pushing against him without thinking, the movement so slight— and yet jake his moaning out from the sensation.

one of jay’s hands creeps up from your waist to cup your jaw, tilting you more to the side before his fingers feel downward, over the veins of your neck.

“y— y/n,” he exhales shakily, retracting his teeth out of your shoulder to lick at the blood that drips down.

you let out a moaned sigh that sounds too weak for jay’s liking. he tightens his hold of you in his arms, finding himself having to keep you upright as you lose the strength to stand. his eyes look into yours, which are hazy and half lidded.

though he loves how undeniably arousing you look like this, he knows you need a break.

“jake..jake, stop.”

jake is still mindlessly sucking away at your blood, and when jay sees him grind his hips down onto your shoe, he takes a handful of his hair and roughly yanks him off of you.

“jake! that’s enough!”

your eyes start to repetitively blink until they’re shut, leaning all of your weight into jay’s arms as you drift into a deep slumber.

the tone of your relationship changes after that, and the three of you become lovers.

it was bound to happen, you realize now— with how sweet jay and jake are, and the sexual tension that keeps building between you with every blood feeding you give them.

jake is still easily flustered, but incredibly clingy and affectionate now. and jay fares no better, a protective hand always having to be pressed to the small of your back or around your waist.

now when they bicker they don’t stop until you’re having to scold them or pull them apart, and the boys only seem to enjoy how you fuss over them. when you wake you are still greeted with a tray of jay’s delicious food, but now instead of having jay simply sit by your side, jay and jake are both in your bed, cuddled up to your side or brushing their fingers through your hair.

the passion of your affections are growing, and so is your lust— and you can only wonder when the rope holding you all back will snap.

after four weeks of hiding out in their cathedral, jay and jake finally begin a conversation about how to prevent your own hanging.

“quite frankly, why don’t we just flee to another town?” jake asks as you all sit in the common area. you’re sprawled across jay’s lounge sofa, the raven haired man having you between his legs while jake sits at his usual spot in his chair.

“i can’t leave my father, and he won’t abandon the farm. it’s not much but…it’s his whole livelihood. and it’s where he lived with mother…”

jay and jake share a look, the older running a comforting hand through your hair as he speaks to you in a comforting tone.

“then we won’t flee, dearest. we’ll just have to find another way.”

“do you have any witnesses of your recent doings before they accused you?” jake asks after a quiet moment of deep thinking.

you ponder over his words, having trouble with how jay’s arm squeezes possessively around your waist. jake’s lips push into a pout as his brows furrow, beginning to feel jealous at the way you let jay be all over you— while he’s across just watching.

“yes. in fact, my week was full with appointments.” you recall.

you have a small seamstress shop to help ends meet, and though it’s quaint, it’s what you’re known for— which can come as a help with your current predicament.

“i think i had a customer every day. with the cold weather fast approaching, everyone wants to get their clothes patched up or new ones made.”

“perfect! so we’ll just talk to them and ask them to give their account.” jay says cheerily, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, causing you to giggle.

jake practically scoffs, abruptly standing to march over and kneel, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing his face into your stomach.

“my tuurrn.” he whines, rubbing his nose against you and making you ticklish.

“alright, alright, puppy. come here.” you laugh, jake eagerly hopping up to lay himself in your lap.

he lets out a content sigh as your fingers massage at his scalp, jay chuckling under his breath.

“but how will you help me gather witnesses when you can’t walk in the sun?”

“we’ll just have to go at night, lovely. it may raise suspicion but…what more can we do?”

jay assumes the plan has ended at that. the boys won’t let you go alone to town in fear you’ll end up dead, so in their minds the plan is to run into town at night, gathering as many testimonials as they can over the span of a few days while hiding out in your father’s barn when the sun's out. but unbeknownst to the two men— you just won’t have it. the plan is more than a little iffy. the townspeople have been an edge from the witching trails and missing livestock for a while now. people are staying awake at night— watching out for anything that seems odd. with this plan, not only will you be hung, but jay and jake too.

so as you sit there, squeezed between your two overly affectionate lovers who you’ve only just begun the pleasure of knowing— you devise a secret plan of your own.

you’ll just have to wait for the perfect moment to put it into action.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the night is a foggy one, leaving your skin uncomfortably clammy.

jay prepares you a bath in a tin basin, left outside at the back of the church from where they would commence baptismals.

“make sure to let it cool.” warns jay as he pours the boiling water he prepared into the tub. “it shouldn’t take long with how cold it is.”

“thank you, angel.” you smile, jay coming closer to receive a peck on the cheek.

“don’t take too long to bathe, my lady. it’s safe, but i don’t like the thought of you being out here by yourself.”

you assure him you’ll be quick, and with one last look jay is opening the back door and going back inside, leaving you to the misty night.

it takes a bit for you to untie your corset and layers of skirts, hanging each article of clothing on the short stair rail of the back door until you’re stripped bare. the basin is billowing with steam, but when you prick your finger into the water it’s just the right temperature.

careful to not fall as you step in, you sink yourself into the water with a relaxed sigh.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

jake walks down the long corridor, heeding jay’s words to check on you as his anxiousness only seems to grow with every minute that passes, jake feeling the same way.

which is possibly why he forgets the fact that you are naked until he opens the door enough to crack, and gets an eyeful of your gloriously bare body, and he’s suddenly struck dumb— standing completely still and unable to look away.

you look as beautiful and dangerous as a siren, soaking in the steaming tub with skin that shines in the moonlight. your breasts are barely concealed beneath the water, one long leg peaking out and balancing along the basin’s edge. your hair is damp as you run your fingers through it, and jake doesn’t miss how the movement pushes your breasts together.

you are the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on— and jake hasn’t seen many naked women, but after seeing you he doesn’t desire to see anymore, as none could ever compare.

jake swallows dryly. enough seconds have passed for him to have at least one cognitive thought, which is that it’s entirely ungentlmenly to be watching a naked woman bathe— even if that naked woman is his lover— without her permission.

but he just…can’t.

against his better judgment and beliefs, jake continues watching you through the crack of the door, ignoring how his cock twitches to life at the sight of you.

after running your hands through your hair a bit, getting all the tangles out, you lean over the tub to grab a bar of soap. jake luckily is quick enough to press a hand to his mouth before his gasp escapes when you sit up straighter in the tub, revealing the entirety of your breasts and perked nipples to his perverted eyes. as you start to rub the soap over your body, bubbly suds run down your body and between the swells of your chest, making jake grow in jealousy as he wishes he had that honor.

his ‘second brain’, painfully hard and throbbing— is getting impossible to ignore. so jake lets one hand move down to grope at himself, softly jerking it through his pants.

he’s never felt such intense pleasure while touching himself as he does right now, and he knows it’s because he has a gorgeous woman with a heavenly body to watch as he imagines it was you touching his cock, calling him a good boy as you’d allow him to squeeze and suck at your tits.

jake has to bite down on his bottom lip to conceal a shuddered breath, and when you put down the soap to lift both your hands and start massaging the suds into the skin of your breasts, the poor boy almost chokes.

“puppy…i know you’re here.”

jake’s eyes widen as he stands stock-still, unable to even remove his hand from his crotch as he feels like prey standing in front of a lioness.

you turn your head to look at him, a sultry smirk on your lips that has jake whimpering.

you let out a small giggle at the sound and how sensitive the boy must be to get this worked up over just seeing you bathe. with one hand, you bid him closer.

“come, darling. you must be so hard, hm?”

jake feels as though he’s walking on clouds as he approaches the basin, standing at the side of it— humiliated at the realization that with you sitting down, the bulge in his pants is right at your eye level. he’s unable to look away from your gaze. he doesn’t want to— but he does try to shield his visual arousal with two hands over his crotch.

you tut disapprovingly, leaning relaxed into the tub like you have all the power and assurance in the world— and with jake, you do.

“don’t hide from me, puppy. show me.”

the term of endearment you often call him has a whole new effect in the situation jake finds himself in, letting out a little whine as he removes his hands to instead grip them behind his back. his lips pout and eyes shine, innocently round as you can tell he’s trying to win your forgiveness. but he’ll soon find out you aren’t mad in the slightest.

“aw, that looks so painful.”

jake nods his head, a now ploring look in his eyes that you have to resist smiling at in your cockiness.

“want me to help you, darling?”

“y— yes please, miss.”

your hand raises to cup his manhood, delighted to find he's more than a handful big. jake exhales shakily, body wracking in a sudden shiver before he apologizes for it under his breath. you’re so incredibly endeared by his shy sensitivity, wondering how a boy so sweet could have been touching himself to your naked body— thinking he was doing it in secret, just moments ago.

“naughty boy, jerking your cock when you thought i didn’t know.”

“i’m— i’m sorry, y/n. i— i thought—“

“that i wouldn’t find out? that’s even naughtier, puppy.”

jake moans longly at your sultry scolding, cheeks blushing at the sound he’s unfamiliar with making so passionately. and as he looks down, seeing his gorgeous lover palming his cock while her breasts are pressed enticingly against the inner walls of the tub— he finds himself babbling all his shameful thoughts.

“i’m so sorry, miss. you just— you looked so pretty. i just couldn’t control myself, couldn’t stop.”

you coo, continuing to move your hand over his covered shaft more firmly as he squirms.

“poor puppy. so helpless. but tell me this, jakey. if i hadn’t caught you, would you have kept touching yourself until you came?”

“m— miss!” jake exclaims, eyes squeezing shut as your hand only moves faster, his breath gaining speed along with it.

“oh, don’t act all scandalized. i know what a pervert you are now, jakey. tell me.”

“i— i—“ the boy struggles to speak, finding himself in this very moment close to coming.

but before anything can proceed further, another voice echoes into the night.

“what in god’s name is taking the both of you so long!”

jay busts through the door rather unceremoniously (unlike jake), but his eyes widen and he is suddenly silenced in a similar way.

he only stares for a moment, eyes flitting over your naked body— pausing at your exposed breasts and hip bone peeking above the water, before shielding your modesty with his own hands over his eyes.

“m— my lady, i’m so sor—“

“it’s okay, angel. you can look.”

jay’s body flinches, hesitant as though he cannot believe his ears. after a few seconds more, he finally slowly lowers his hands.

“…dearest?” he asks, question incomplete, but you’re sure you know what he’s wondering.

“jakey here was being a pervert and watching me bathe.” you tell honestly, your hand removing from jake’s cock to his utter dismay, feeling his climax slip through his fingers. (or rather, yours.)

“bastard.” jay mutters under his breath, but jake catches it as the open land causes the noise to echo, snapping his head to scoff at jay offendedly.

“don’t act so righteous. you would have done the same.”

“i quite literally just proved i wouldn’t!” jay defends himself, and before an argument can break out between the two, you’re raising yourself from the tub.

“m…miss? where are you going?”

you take languid steps towards the door, purposely swinging your hips to each side just enough to make the boys drool while at the same time trying not to seem like you’re meaning to tempt them. it works, because when you peer over your shoulder they’re not looking at your face.

“to my bedchamber, where i expect you both to follow me.”

the boys pause for only a moment, giving each other a wide eyed look before hurrying to catch up with you.

jay grabs your hanging clothing before you can, folding them neatly over his bent arm. you smile at his sweetness, slowly moving to cup his jaw and give him a kiss. jake watches it all with bated breath, how your naked breasts push up against jay’s suit as you whisper a ‘good boy’ in his flushed ear. jealousy and longing starts to simmer in his stomach, but the flutter of his own arousal is enough to sedate him.

the two men stay silent as they feel an eternity drags on while following closely behind you down the winding hallways, their eyes trained on your ass and the alluring way it sways when you move. the shadows and moonlight sticking to the contours of your spine make you look like a sort of enchanted being— which is humorous when you consider it’s really them who are the magical creatures. and you have them trailing behind you as though on a leash, listening to their enchantress’s every whim.

when you reach your bedroom jay hurries to open the door for you, and jake curses at himself for missing another opportunity of praise.

the three of you enter in, you bidding jay to set your clothes down over a chair before asking them to sit on the edge of your bed.

they both do so hesitantly, as though they still can’t believe what’s happening. here you stand completely naked, and yet they look like the utterly vulnerable ones. jay and jake both have their hands folded in their laps obediently, the bulges in their pants evident as they look up to you with adorably round and shining eyes.

you acknowledge the tenderness of the moment with a gentle hand to both of their thighs. if this continues, it will be your first time to bed together.

“do you both…want this?”

“yes.” the boys answer together.

they immediately become embarrassed, not only by speaking in unison but also by their obvious eagerness, glancing at each other before avoiding eye contact completely.

you giggle, raising your hands to ruin your fingers through each of their scalp’s affectionately. jake sighs out in what practically sounds like relief, jay having a ghost of a smile as his eyes fall shut.

your hand starts to creep down jay’s chest, the path you're taking to his cock evidently clear to the man as he stops you with a gentle yet urgent grasp around your wrist.

“i— my lady…we…”

“what is it, angel?” you ask, brows pinching slightly in concern as jay looks down at your touching hands, rather than your face.

jake clears his throat nervously, cheeks a bright red when your gaze falls to his.

“we haven’t ever…laid with a woman before.”

your disbelief is apparent, eyes widening and mouth opening just slightly as you gawk at the two absolutely stunning men in front of you. how on earth could they have ever kept their chastity? they must have had plenty of women throwing themselves at them.

“we were virgins when we turned, and after that we just…” jay begins, jake finishing for him yet again.

“we were always on the run, terrified of the monsters we had become. we spent years together practically running away from our own cursed existence, just trying to keep away from humans completely in fear that we’d hurt someone.”

“after a few years we realized we could manage control of ourselves pretty well. every adult in our lives or book we read as humans talked of vampires as bloodthirsty killers, so it’s what we had assumed.”

your heart sinks, having to will your eyes not to water hearing them describe such a sad existence up until now.

“you’re— you’re not.” you insisted breathily, making sure to look firmly into both of the boys eyes. “you’re wonderful, unlike any men i’ve ever met— unlike anyone at all really.”

they smile, eyes twinkling, and it touches a part so deeply in your heart that you’re sure hasn’t ever been reached before. and yet they manage to do so easily— without even meaning to.

“anyway…” jay begins softly. “losing our virginity was the last thing on our minds.”

“speak for yourself.” jake mutters with a little sass. “i for one am tired of how well i’ve gotten to know my own fist.”

you laugh abruptly, keeping eye contact with jake as your hand continues its track to cup over jay’s manhood, causing his thighs to twitch a little farther open and an almost undetectable sound to come from his throat.

“well, i’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer.” you smirk, slowly lowering to your knees between jay’s legs— the raven’s eyes watching in absolute rapt attention at your gorgeous form kneeling in front of him.

“what? miss—“

“you had your turn when you got a private little peep show. now go sit on that chair and watch, hm?”

jake’s eyes roam, from your groping hand motions over jay’s cock to the way the man throws his head back in ecstasy at just the minor stimulation alone. biting his lip so hard you wonder if it might bleed, jake takes a few steps over to sit at the chair that’s placed at the perfect spot to get a full view of your ass as you’re looking over jay’s lap.

“good boy.” you whisper to him, jake whimpering at the praise— the way you don’t even look at him when you say it somehow rilling him up even more. “if you keep acting good i’ll give you a special treat, puppy.”

“ok, miss. s— so, i can touch myself?”

“yes.” you answer, and then bring your full attention to jay.

his eyes are squeezed shut as the simple action of your palm over his cock brings him to absolute bliss. the bulge in his pants is…generous. your mouth waters to have it in your mouth, but you want to play with him a bit more.

“feels good, angel?”

“yes— yes, y/n. your hands are heavenly.”

you bite down on your smirk, jay opening his eyes and shuddering at the expression on your face that makes his skin burn even hotter.

“well, it will feel even better when my hands are actually on your cock. can i take off your pants, darling?”

he nods eagerly, eyes almost sparkling amidst the black of them in excitement.

you begin to unbutton his pants, glancing up at him again and speaking soft and sweet, trying to take extra care because it’s his first time— but also in efforts to return the gentleness he always treats you with. “could you help me by taking off your upper garments?”

he nods again, rushing all too much to unfasten his black and charcoal gray suit vest, fingers clumsy and unsuccessful in their haste.

you coo, stopping your original task to clasp both your hands around one of his, sitting up a little straighter so you’re drawn closer to his face.

“there’s no need to rush my dark angel, we have all night.”

“yes…sorry, my lady.” jay whispers, appearing flustered as he stares down.

you nudge his nose with yours to get him to look at you again, smiling at him affectionately when he does.

“it’s alright, gorgeous. just let me take the time to make you feel good.”

he sucks the bottom of his lip in his mouth with the ghost of a nod, trying but failing to not glance down at your own pretty mouth.

you grant him his unspoken wish, pressing your lips to his, eventually falling into a slow and sensual dance with every kiss. your fingers make good work at his vest, pulling away from him when you unfasten the last button. you return back to your original task of removing his pants, jay obediently lifting his hips as you pull them off, his hardened length springing free. the mushroom tip is a soft red, average length with a prominent vein running up the shaft that makes you want to run your tongue along its path.

jay’s hesitant groan is what makes your eyes flick up to his, only to be distracted by his chest that is now completely bare. he’s strong…unsurprisingly, defined arms and a torso hardened by muscle making your heart beat faster.

“you’re staring…” jay almost whines, voice textured as it wavers from embarrassment.

“sorry.” you murmur, almost breathless yourself as you sit back on your feet, lowering your mouth nearer to his cock. “can’t help it.”

the touch of your tongue against his shaft is gentle, and yet jay makes a choked moan as you lick up his vein. your hand grasps around the base of it to keep it still as you begin kissing and flicking your tongue at his leaky tip, looking up into his eyes while doing so.

“f— fucking hell.” jay curses, losing more control as his pleasure begins to become more apparent in his voice, breathing out through his nose deeply.

you then swallow down all of his length into your wet, hot mouth, feeling him twitch against your tongue as he abruptly moans loudly.

you hear a high pitched whimper behind you that has you feeling cheeky, arching your back for the boy behind you as you bob your head on jay’s cock once.

“sh— shit.” jake shudders at the dirty yet gorgeous sight of your feminine hips and behind, not quite being able to see but knowing you have another man’s cock in your mouth. his hand tugs at his own with more speed than his previous languid groping, not wanting to release too soon as he has a feeling he’ll be waiting for a while. and oddly, he’s okay with that. the sight and sounds of you sucking off another man— his best friend no less— is more arousing than he could have ever expected.

“never had someone taste you before, angel?” you rhetorically ask, but jay’s shaking his head cutely anyway.

“n— no. feels…hah…your mouth feels so good on my c— cock.”

you continue bobbing your head, careful to not go too soft, but at a rhythm that’s not so slow that he feels you’re being too mean. you want this to last, which means you need to keep him from busting too soon. jay’s hands move to brush your hair behind your ears, away from your face. you feel your heart flutter from his affectionate consideration. even when he’s so aroused, he doesn’t forget about you.

you reward him by fondling his balls and swallowing around him tightly, the man’s hips bucking from the sensations, causing you to gag as his hands remove from your hair and hover before you— as though he wants to touch your body, needing something to anchor himself to, but is hesitant without your explicit permission.

“f— fuck, i’m sorry, my lady. didn’t— didn’t mean to, can’t control it.”

you hum around him as a way to say it’s okay. your hands wrap deliberately around his wrists, bringing his open palms to your breasts. his eyes are almost innocent in the way they widen at the first brush of your hardened nipples against his hands, hesitant yet eager in how he finally begins to fondle them in his hold.

“oh shit…”

the feeling of your plump breasts being squished between his kneading hands becomes an immediate addiction to jay. and judging by the shaken little exhale you breathe against his pelvis, it’s making you feel good too. which only makes jay feel even more pleasured, knowing that his hands are making your body feel good, the man groaning lowly as he gropes at your tits with more confidence.

jake lets out a particularly loud, needy whimper that reminds jay that he’s still in the room, looking over to the younger.

his entire cock is drenched in pre cum, the tip literally drooling in little strings that land on his thighs or the chair below. his entire body is stripped, jake having taken off his clothes sometime when neither of you were paying attention. his hips thrust into his hand desperately, stomach quivering and muscles taught by the intense sensations that wrack over his body.

jay would laugh at him if he weren’t breathing so heavily from your hands and mouth, but he does manage to tease jake a little further by pinching one of your nipples, causing you to moan out prettily as your thighs spread open a little more, your own cunt becoming needy to be touched.

when jake notices jay’s cocky yet blissed out smirk, he’s unable to even glare at him, his climax rapidly approaching.

“y/n, p— please can i cum?”

“not yet, pup.” you order to his dismay, the boy whining childishly, making you clench at the pretty sound.

“l— lovely?”

“hm?” you hum around jay, making eye contact with the man who’s cheeks are ruddy and lips bitten red. he looks absolutely ravished, and you’ve only had him in your mouth.

“can you go faster, please? wan’ want to come now.”

“yes, darling. fill my mouth, hm?”

right after you speak, you attach your lips around his cock again and don’t hold anything back— for the first time tonight.

a bead of your spit drips down his length as the raunchy sounds of your mouth bouncing up and down his cock, piercing your throat fills the room. jay cannot hold back his wanton moans, or help the way his hips hump along with the fast pace you’ve set. his hands move from your tits to cup your face,

fingers trembling against your skin.

“oh, oh dearest— i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

his seed erupts from his tip and fills your mouth as you do your best to swallow it all down, jay’s girthy cock pumping against your lips as his juices just keep coming, his powerful orgasm lasting long.

he’s trembling when you finally pull off, yet his hands grab at your body frantically, pulling you up until his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth. jay sucks on your tongue, the dirty taste of his cum staining it somehow only arousing him further as he sighs blissfully.

when the kiss is finally broken jays eyes are drooped sleepily, and you help him scoot up on your bed and lay him down.

“just rest here, my dark angel. i’m gonna take care of jakey now.” you whisper after kissing his cheek tenderly. jay only nods, humming out dreamily as you rise from the bed.

“miss, please.” jake begs as he watches you get down on your knees before him now, his eyes teary and hand still roughly fisting his cock, stopping just below the head every now and then to fend off his climax.

he watches the cruel smile that stretches your enchanting lips as you see what a mess he’s made of himself— just from watching the two of you.

“my, jakey. you really are such a dirty little puppy.” you wonder aloud before pushing off his hand to replace it with your own, jake moaning long and drawn out just from the simple touch— feeling as though he’s about to fall apart after practically having to edge himself this entire time.

you break the string of his precum connecting to his trembling thighs when you encase him in your mouth, not bothering going slow with him— as you know no matter what you do he'll be cumming down your throat quickly.

jake’s whimpers are high pitched and cracked from his sore throat, panting between each pathetic sound as you move your mouth up and down his cock just like jay’s.

jake’s cock is a little longer than jay’s with less girth, making you think of how good the older’s could stretch you open, while jake’s could kiss your cervix with each thrust.

you moan around him as you find yourself unable to keep your hands off of your own neglected clit, rubbing your slick around and around it just enough to give you some relief.

“kiss— wanna kiss you!” jake begs, voice so broken and desperate that you hurry to give him what he cries for, sitting up on your knees and letting him lick and drool into your mouth while your hand still rapidly fucks his cock.

the kiss is sloppy and can hardly be called a kiss, but the sensuality of it riles you up all the same, jake’s stuttering hips rutting into your hands while his brows furrow, eyes squeezing shut and sobbing as you feel him squirt all over your fist, white stripes shooting out everywhere, some even landing on your stomach or the bottom swell of your tits.

his cock never softens, even when you’re sure his orgasm has finished, he doesn’t even ask you to stop— he simply cries and trembles, never once shying away from your hand.

“lets go to the bed, puppy. come, that’s a good boy.”

“good. good boy.” jake mutters cutely to himself as he hardly can stand up on his own, clinging to you in a hug immediately after you help him upright. you have to walk him backwards to the mattress as you have no intentions of making him separate from you, your seizing heart wouldn’t allow it. he’s so adorable and needy.

“yes, jakey. you’re such a good boy. lay down, sweetheart.”

“yes, miss.” he squeaks obediently, lying against the sheets as you straddle his hips and admire him from above.

his thick tufts of hair splay out beautifully around his head, a few tear tracks glistening on his pink little cheeks while big brown eyes gaze up at you like you’re the one who’s hung the stars above, lighting up the darkness.

“i love you…” jake confesses in a tender whisper, that somehow still hits you with such power you audibly gasp.

“i’m sorry, but i do love you so terribly much, my beautiful girl. i just couldn’t keep from saying it.”

“i love you too.” jay adds after turning on his side, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips. “so much it makes my heart ache.”

you’re silent, unable to find words as jay rubs his thumb over your knuckles, and jake’s hands move up and down your sides soothingly.

“we know it’s soon, y/n. you don’t have to say it back—“

“i love you!” you exclaim, much more loudly and ungraceful compared to their adoring words encased with tender tones. but you mean it all the same, and it hits them just as powerfully.

“i’m— i’m in love with you both.”

jay is unable to keep himself from sitting up and hurriedly kissing your lips, hand grasping the nape of your neck while your mouths wetly smack together.

jay confesses his affections once more, uttered against your panting lips, before pulling away and letting you lower your body down against jake, wrapping him up in just as passionate of a kiss.

“my love, p— please put me inside. need to feel your warmth around me.”

“yes, puppy.” you grant, voice airy as you’re still catching your breath.

when your hand takes hold of his still hard and throbbing length, jake winces at the mix of slight pain— which only heightens his pleasure as he finds himself enjoying the overstimulation. when the tip breaches your sopping entrance jake’s entire body shivers, and you don’t even bother hiding the cocky smirk that lifts your lips, the boy whining in response as his cheeks blush so prettily.

choked little grunts and moans come from jake as you slowly slide down to the hilt, releasing a sigh of your own as you get used to the feeling of his long cock inside your cunt.

“fuck, s— so warm, n’tight.”

“are you alright, darling?” you check, brushing a delicate hand over his hot cheek.

his damp eyes look up to yours, staring at you as his brain needs more time to process your words when he’s distracted by the overwhelmingly good yet unfamiliar feeling of his cock being encased in such soft warmth. then he’s frantically nodding his head, as pleads fall from his swollen lips.

“m’okay. please move, y/n. i’ll be a good boy, please?”

you wrap your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his lips before you start riding your hips up and down his shaft. jake’s reaction is immediate, eyes squeezing shut and pushing back into the pillows as his large hands squeeze into the comforting flesh of your hips. you find your cunt needy from all the messing around and lack of attention before this, feeling a fluttery pressure in your stomach build and build quickly with each time jake’s cock impales your womb.

jake feels a natural sort of instinct as his pleasure grows, his hands moving to press your waist against his stomach, tilting the angle differently before he plants his feet firmly into the mattress and starts fucking up into your pussy.

you cry out as you feel new colors burst behind your eyelids, falling forward and subsequently burying jake into your breasts.

the man only groans as he wonders if he’s died a second death and has somehow made it to heaven, his shining slick lips mouthing over your tits until they brush over your bud and he sucks it inside. what he and jay lack in experience they more than make up for it with their passion and love for you. you’re not sure if only a small twinkle of moments have passed, or if it’s been an otherworldly eternity. all you know is that as jake flicks his eager, desperate tongue over your nipple, and one of his hands move to rub little patterns against your clit, you feel your climax quickly approaching.

“oh— good boy. good boy, jakey. k— keep doing that.”

“can i come inside of your pussy, miss? i— i—“

“yes!” you cry out desperately as your legs start to tremble, thanking every god out there that you studied so many vampiric literature, or you wouldn’t have known vampires can’t procreate.

“inside! inside me, p— please, puppy!”

“y— yes, miss.” jake whimpers sweetly, rutting into you deeper as he hugs your body against his. “puppy’s gonna give it to you, gonna fill your cunt up with my cum. sh— shit!”

the second you feel his warmth filling you, you’re seeing stars, reaching your high along with jake as he pants and kisses sloppily at your neck.

you collapse into his chest, your rib cages rising and falling in sync as you catch your breath.

you hear a swallowed moan, and turn your head to see jay’s eyes squeezed shut, jerking off his own cock furiously.

“don’t you dare waste that, jay.”

“w— what, my lady?” he flinches, hand immediately stopping its frantic movements as his eyes widen from being caught.

“i want you inside me too, love. come,” you beckon him, legs still laying open as you're laid against jake.

“b— but, if you’re tired—“

“nonsense. please come fuck me before i ride you myself.”

jay thickly swallows, evidently not expecting this outcome.

he moves somewhat unsurely, positioning himself behind you between the entanglement of your and jake’s legs. you lift yourself up on your knees, presenting yourself so lewdly to the man as a furious red burns up his neck. you giggle at him, jay looking away from your pussy that has jake’s cum leaking out of it to see that you’re peering at him over your shoulder— the image becoming a new core memory for jay, one he’s sure he’ll never forget in his eternal lifetime as his thoughts tell him you’re the perfect picture of pure beauty and raw sensualism.

jay slowly pushes into your wet heat, more of jake’s cum gushing out as his girthy shaft stretches you deliciously, a drawn moan escaping your lips.

“there you go, angel. fuck my cunt. y’fill me up so good.”

jay shudders at your praise, hips stuttering at the foreign pleasure as he finds his rhythm.

he doesn’t want this to end, but he knows he can’t last long inside your wet heat as you feel him twitch uncontrollably inside you— noticing how his eyes squeeze shut while his hands squeeze handfuls of your hips— holding himself back.

“let go, darling. pussy’s too good not to fill it, right?”

jay cums with groan at your words, rutting into you with reckless abandon— his sudden roughness causing your eyes to roll back as you reach release once more.

even as you both come down, neither man seems able to catch their breath— even as satisfied exhaustion weighs down their eyelids.

jay falls against your chest while jake cuddles into your sides wordlessly, and it’s not long until their breathing descends into a slow and deep pattern, feeling their chests sink and rise rhythmically against you.

you’re a little drained, but you clearly don’t feel as exhausted as the boys who just gave up their chastity to you. as you lay in their hold, you bask in the moonlight that pours out the window and think of how strongly you feel an emotional bond to these men— almost magical like in its force. you feel a calm, deep happiness, as though all the strings attaching you to your problems have been cut. and yet…

you can’t help but heed to that small voice in your head, which is hissing in urgency at you to get up— that now’s the perfect time to put your plan in action.

and you know that you must listen. even if it stings your heart a bit when you slowly rise from the bed and jake’s lips pout and jay’s brows furrow in their sleep. even when that strange force you’re probably just imagining in your mind aches for you to return. you simply try your best to ignore it, gathering your clothing, only putting enough layers to be somewhat presentable if you are caught— universe forbid.

as you’re making your quiet descent out of the cathedral, you grab what you’re fairly certain is jay’s cloak draped over his bedroom door knob. it’s black as night, perfect for what you’ll need it for— and you veil it over yourself quickly.

the heavy door is loud as you push it open, a low, haunting creek almost making you feel as though it’s warning you to turn back.

but you tell yourself you must as you step out into the dark and shut the door behind you, knowing this could be your only opportunity.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

WHO IS THE DEVIL;

the soft glow of dawn is like a bright, orange trim sewn into the horizon.

you don’t dally, hurrying to push open the cathedral’s large heavy doors once more.

the ridiculously long stairs are no match for you now as you hurry towards your bedchamber— hoping to find the boys still fast asleep in your sheets. despite your rush, you try to calm your heavy breathing from all that running you did through the woods and up the stairs, before twisting the door knob carefully.

what you find is an empty room, your heart quickening yet again in alarm as you step deeper into the room, your lovers clearly not tangled into the covers as you left them— and neither are the drapes as they were before. they’re drawn tightly shut, a candle near your bedside the only light.

“where the hell where you?” a quiet tone with sharp edges speaks behind you, causing you to jump and turn to see the two men standing behind you.

your initial gasp turns to a sigh of relief, your hand pressing to your chest.

“goodness, jay. you scared me. why must you both always sneak up behind me like that?”

your voice turns somewhat playful at the end, as you lightly giggle, the smile on your lips quickly falling when you see the expression on their faces.

jay’s jaw is tensed and his brows are tilted in anger, hardened eyes reminding you of the day you met— but the vulnerability is very obvious to spot for you now. he looks…hurt— you realize with a rapidly sinking stomach.

and jake’s eyes almost appear like he’d been crying.

“what…what happened?”

“what happened?” jay scoffs credulously, taking a step closer as he gestures to your form with the wave of his hands. “what happened to you, did you go outside? you’re wearing my cloak!”

“i—…i’m sorry, my love.”

jake’s face suddenly crumples as he looks down, akin to a wilted flower that’s finally falling apart.

your own eyes widen in alarm, beginning to walk closer to him to take him in your arms— if it weren’t for jay’s gentle yet commanding hand on your stomach, or how jake backs away into the corner, shoulders hunched as his arms wrap around himself in a hug.

“you left.” he croaks, and you feel somewhat confused as to how strong his reaction is to that fact— not expecting this emotional of a moment when you returned home— until he says his next words.

“you slept with us— with me, and— and told me you loved me, n’ then you leave?”

that sting you felt in your heart when you first left them now feels like someone’s crushing it in their hand, and it only gets worse as jake starts letting out little sniffles and hushed cries. your shocked face looks up to jay, who’s also avoiding your gaze as he turns his head from you.

“jake, jay— you didn’t…you didn't think i had abandoned you both, did you?”

a sniff, clearing of his throat, and then jay meets your eye contact, his angry resolve cracking ever so slightly with each second he has to look at you.

“we didn’t know what to think. we still don’t, y/n…”

without needing any more prompting, you hurry and plunge your hand into the deep pocket of jay’s cloak, soon fishing out the items as they jingle slightly when you pull them out, letting them hang from your outstretched hold.

“…a pendant?” jay utters, thoroughly confused.

jake rubs his eyes to look at the glittering silver in your hand, brown orbs irritated and glossy.

“they’re enchanted. you will be able to walk in the daytime when you wear them.”

neither of them speak, but jay’s sadness poorly hidden by anger has seemed to have left, though he still appears to be slow at processing the information you tell him as he comes closer and takes one of the necklaces from your hand. the pendent is too rounded to be heart-like in shape— but it’s close. a burnt orange crystal carved into a point hangs right beside the larger silver piece.

“what is this?” he asks softly, pointing to the charm.

“tigers eye.” you answer simply, hesitant in your movements as you silently ask for the necklace back with an open hand. jay gives it to you and you stand on your tiptoes to clasp the jewelry around his neck. you bite down the small grin that wants to curve your lips when jay bends his knees to help your height difference.

once you’re done, the man looks down at the way it rests against his chest, taking it into his hand again as the metal feels cool in his palm.

“you really couldn’t have just told us, love?”

“would you have let me?” you answer his question with another, and you know what jay’s response would be as he doesn’t even say anything back. instead, he sighs— trying to convert frustration despite how he moves to wrap you up in his arms, the both of you melting into the hug.

“the timing was horrid.”

“yes. i see that now.” you mean it apologetically, but jay chuckles at your words, putting a smile on your own face.

jake sniffling once again has the man releasing his hold on you, looking back at his friend before giving you encouraging eyes to go comfort the poor boy.

your steps are slow, like you're approaching a wounded animal.

“jakey?” you softly coo, the boy looking up at you with eyes that were starting to dry— now rapidly filling back up with crystal tears. the next thing you know he’s running into your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist as he cries against you.

“didn’t— didn’t intend to accuse you, b— but, i was so scared you weren’t coming back.”

“i’m so sorry, darling. i’d never leave either of you. i love you.”

your hand pets over his thick locks, jake reacting by fisting the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hold and nuzzling his nose against your neck— yet he still is restless. jay walks to stand behind you and removes the cloak from your shoulders, throwing it onto the bed.

“jay?”

“be still, love. i think this should help him.”

jay’s delicate fingers slip beneath the trim of your blouse, pulling it down until it’s past both of your shoulders. the bites you received last night are now exposed, along with a peek of your breasts. jake nuzzles into them with a puppy-ish whimper, but jay cups the back of his neck from behind you, pulling his head up until jake spots the bruised flesh he marked last night. with a small moan that has you pulsing in surprise, jake presses an opened mouth kiss over the bite, licking and sucking at your skin without actually sinking his teeth in. jay moves to do the same, leaning over your other shoulder and peppering his mark with more controlled pecks before he swipes his tongue over it as well.

you’re unable to contain an aroused shudder, especially when jay’s hand twists around your body to grope lewdly at your tits.

after a few torturously teasing minutes, jake seems to come back to his own mind, kissing up your neck, around your jaw, and finally to your lips— before pulling away.

“thank you.” he sighs, giving jay a meaningful eye as well when the older pulls away from your shoulder, forcing his hands away from your breasts.

you only give a breathless smile, taking the second necklace that’s been clenched between your now sweaty palm and clasping it around his neck as well.

“you need to keep them hidden. don’t let anyone see them, lest they grow suspicious.”

you receive easy agreeances as they slip the pendants under their clothes. jay moves to stand in front of you by jake’s side, while you cover your mouth as a long yawn forces its way out.

“tired, miss?” jake smiles fondly, eyes now having their usual happy twinkle as the boys have a little more energy than you, thanks to their nap and not traipsing through the woods as you did.

“yes. we need to change our sleep schedules now that you two won’t burn in the sun.”

“you’re right, my lady. but for now lay down. me and jake will likely be awake for a few more hours before we have the urge to sleep. we’ll wake you when it’s lunch time.” jay assures, helping you to the bed with a gentle hand.

“y/n?” jake begins, just after the older presses a kiss to your forehead and picks up his cloak, about to slip out. “where did..you get the necklaces?”

“uh, i…just don’t fret over it, puppy. we’re safer now because of it, yes?”

“r— right.” jake responds gently, jay following him as they bid you a good sleep once more before shutting the door.

the sounds of their footsteps echo down the hall, feeling strange as the sunrise gracing the sky filters through the windows, not having walked in the face of the sun in almost a century— and yet all they can think of is you.

“where…where do you think—“

“she’s a witch, jake.” jay insists with a fearful yet powerful tone that has goosebumps rising on jake’s flesh. “what other explanation is there?”

“but you— you don’t know that.”

“do you know the materials witches use for magic?” jay asks with a snappy tone, turning on his heel to look his best friend in the eyes.

“e— elements, rituals…um—“

“herbs.”

jay shoves the cloak into jake’s hands before impatiently lifting them up to jake’s nose.

“smell that?”

the brunet takes a sniff, the scent wafting off the material terribly blatant now that it’s been pointed out to him.

“basel and…cinnamon?”

“whatever it is, i don’t care. this was already scary when i thought we had to prove a human innocent— then we fell in love with her and it got even worse. and now we have to find a way to prove to these crazy villagers that y/n isn’t a witch when she truly is?”

jake hears the panic in jay’s voice that quickly becomes cracked, pulling away the man’s hands that harshly press into his temples to wrap him in a tight hug.

“i’m scared too, okay?” jake confesses, whispering softly as jay squeezes him back. “we just…we can’t let anything happen to her.”

“what if we turned her?” jay asks darkly intense, trembling.

“…we don’t have her permission to do that and it’s way too soon to ask— despite how badly i’d like to…besides, it wouldn’t keep her safe. if they hung her and she didn’t die then they’d know what she is and would drive a stake through her heart.”

jay lets out a trembled exhale, his head still aching as the visual of your limp body hung by the neck, head leaning unnaturally to the side as crimson blood drips from the cavity in your chest and down your clothes haunts his mind. jay tries his best to disperse the image, squeezing his eyes shut before blinking them open a few times.

“we can’t let that happen.”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the day has finally come.

it’s been a month and a half since you first walked into the old cathedral and it will be the first time in years that jake and jay will be walking out of it, unsure of when they will return.

you leave at night, not wanting anyone to spot you when you appear like such strange travelers— having no luggage. it takes you about an hour and a half to reach town when walking so leisurely, which was at jay’s suggestion— the man fretting that it’s dark and if any of you were to trip and fall it could quickly become a detrimental situation.

your steps are now hurried and anxious as you walk through town, urging the boys to follow closely as you’re dying to get farther away from the heart of town and quickly to your father’s farm.

the next few minutes are spent with your hearts beating out of your chest, the boys looking over their shoulder for your sake— and you in worry for theirs. you avoid lampposts, duck past opened windows, and try to keep your footsteps as silent as possible— all while praying there’s no one staking it out for the night, waiting to catch you.

“boys,” you whisper excitedly, pointing to the dark silhouette of your old house. the three of you hurry up the hill, confident enough to run as you're a few miles away from the main square of town, surrounded by rolling fields of corn and grass. when you reach the front door your heart is still beating out of your chest— but this time it’s by happiness, overjoyed in anticipation to see your father again. pushing open the door so hard it almost falls off its hinges, the boys follow you into your abode much more calmly, yet breathing out a sigh of relief for successfully reaching the refuge. loving smiles grace their lips as they watch you eagerly looking around the house for your father.

“y/n?” that familiar voice calls. it’s not as smooth from the years he’s lived, but it speaks with just as much tenderness as when you were a child— likely because no matter how many days pass, he’ll always see you as his little girl.

“father!” you cry, the tears immediately bubbling up in both of your eyes as you practically fall into each other's arms, the hood of the cloak you wear slipping down with the momentum. his frame is much frailer than when you last saw him, which you note with a heavy heart.

“i thought you to be dead! they— they said they couldn’t find you, but there were rumors of a body found— eaten by a bear.”

“no, no, father. i’m fine! i’m completely all right.” you spoke between sobs, wiping at your tears to gaze at his face. “you’re so thin…”

“i haven’t been able to eat or keep down hardly anything. i was looking for you. every day i’d scour the forest and then try again the next day.” he takes a gasp of air, choking on his words yet trying desperately to speak— as he has so much to say. “oh, my precious girl. thank god you’re alive.”

it takes a while for you to gather yourselves, but once your eyes are almost dried— your father finally takes notice of the two men standing silently in the room.

“who are these gentlemen?”

“oh! father,” you begin, wiping your cheeks while underlying excitement is tangible in your tone. you walk over to your two lovers, holding both of their hands.

looking at jay’s facial expression is like looking through a window, clearly a bundle of nerves to meet the love of his life’s father. jake’s also worried— but only you and jay would know it. his hand is shaking in your hold, and although his smile is just as wide and beautiful as always, his eyes show a tinge of fright.

“these are the men that saved me.” you explain vaguely, a line all three of you settled on to say.

your father was old, but he wasn’t old fashioned. you have no doubt he’d be just as overjoyed to hear you have two lovers just the same as if you only had one. but jake and jay had their reservations, and just for the sake of not springing too much upon them— you planned to wait and tell your father of your relationship later into the future.

“this is jay and jake,” you gesture, both young men holding out their hands for your father to shake. but instead he steps forward and pulls them both in a hug, one that has jay and jake almost blanching from the powerful emotions he portrays with it— the thankfulness and love of a parent. something they haven’t felt in a long time.

“i’m eternally grateful to you. thank you for keeping my girl safe.”

“of course.” jake answers for the both of them, a sweet smile on his face despite his slightly breathless voice.

eventually the conversation leads to the plan, how you’ll sleep in the hay barn’s loft (for safety, to not hide in such an obvious spot as your home— but also because it’s too small to contain 4 people anyway) and wake tomorrow to get proof of your whereabouts.

“i only have one to spare, but you’ll want to take a quilt with you. i’m sure you all know after your journey that it’s cold out there.”

“yes, father. i’ll fetch them.” you say cheerily, disappearing into another room, leaving the two boys with him.

there’s a moment of awkward silence, and just when jake is going to start rambling about something to break it— your father speaks up.

“though i’m sure neither of you will mind having to share one blanket with y/n, hm?”

jay and jake’s eyes grow wide as your father smirks with playfulness, enjoying their embarrassment.

“sir, what…what do you know?” jay asks after an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

“i know that you are in love with my daughter.” he states, the young men speechless at your father’s wisdom and how he so blatantly calls them out. jay desperately prays that what you said about your father being a hopeless romantic is true, and jake is mentally preparing to get punched and barated by your father.

instead, he does neither of those things— he only huffs good naturedly at the boys for thinking they were so good at hiding their affections for you, when he could tell the moment your eyes met with theirs.

“oh, come now. it’s quite obvious in the way you look at her. surely you see that in each other, yes?”

jay and jake glance at the other before nodding shyly. your father chuckles. “well, you have my blessing. just promise to keep her happy and safe for me, alright?”

“yes, sir.” both men respond without hesitation— because that’s all they want for you as well. they want you to be happy and safe with them.

before anyone can say anything else— you’re entering the room again, a folded up quilt in hand and ready to lead them to the barn and have a good night’s rest.

when morning comes you all wake surprisingly comfortably. you’ve come to find that sleeping on a huge pile of uncontained hay really isn’t that bad. jay and jake insist on feeding from you before walking around in public, and you assume it’s just for extra strength— but in reality it’s because both boys are concerned about being recognized as vampires for their pale skin— and drinking your blood helps bring some color to their cheeks.

“so, which of your clients do you think is trustworthy enough that they won’t go screaming about in the streets the second they see you’re back in town?” jay asks plainly, his nerves reaching great heights as you watch him pace about the dirty barn floor, while you’re tucking your hair into the hood of your cloak.

“i still don’t think you should go, my love. it’s very risky.” jake frets, biting his lip so harshly you worry it may burst.

“boys!” you firmly call, halting the fiddling of your clothes to look both of them in the eyes with a stern stare.

“no matter what we do it’ll be risky…” you say with a much gentler tone, trying to calm them as best as you can. “do you think i’m not scared also? if i let you two go out there alone you’ll have no idea who to look for or where you’re going. further more, if people see two strangers going around town asking others about me, they’ll most likely take you for a prisoner as well.”

jay growls out a sigh, his pacing beginning again as jake nibbles on his bottom lip even more.

you hurry to take hold of jay’s hand and stop him, cupping jake’s face to free his lip from between his teeth at the same time.

“don’t worry. i know what we’ll do. there’s an old woman that lives close to here with her grandson, jungwon. they’re old family friends, we can trust them. jungwon just so happened to have helped me all throughout the week before i was accused, on account of i had so much work to do and he offered. if he’ll agree to testify on my behalf— which i think he will, then hopefully that will be enough for the townsfolk to believe me.”

“and if not?” jake asks, eyes soft as they stare at you in a way that makes you feel sad. you choose your next words carefully.

“…we can only pray jungwon’s courage to speak up will inspire others to do so as well.”

….silence.

jay and jake eyes can only look at you, as if the rest of the world has all vanished— and it might as well, because the thing they care about the most in all of their miserable existence is right here before them. their chests ache. all they desire to do is go lay back down and spend the rest of eternity with you, in your own little bubble of reality you’ve been overindulging in up until now.

but they know that’s not what you want, and it’s not fair to you. honestly, they owe themselves more also. jake and jay spent almost a century of their undead life running away, not giving themselves a chance to have anything worth fighting for— but now that they have you, they do.

and so they are done running away.

“alright.” jay agrees, looking to his best friend who nods his head determinedly.

“let’s go.”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

jungwon is crouched over tending to his grandmother’s garden and collecting all that he can before the approaching winter kills everything in its wake. the cool autumn breeze soothes the thin sheen of sweat that sticks to his nape when suddenly the young boy spots movement at the edge of his vision.

“hello?” he shouts, his voice echoing across the distance between him and the strangers. it appears to be two men, and one cloaked form.

jungwon heaves an annoyed sigh, supposing it is the council again, coming around to check over various households for another poor soul they’ve decided to demonize.

“gran! they’re here again!” jungwon opens up the front door to call out before shutting it behind him. he doesn’t speak, only standing and waiting until the three strangers are right before him. “can i help you?” he asks with a tone that’s trying to appear polite, but his thin thread of patience is clearly about to snap.

“jungwon…” you whisper with a playful smile— the only part of your face that isn’t hidden by your hood. the youngest’s eyes grow wide as they flick from jake and jay to you. he’d recognize your voice from anywhere, and suddenly he can see that it’s not a stranger underneath that cloak— but a longtime friend.

“y/n!”

he almost pushes your two lovers out of the way by knocking them with his wide shoulders, jungwon not even aware of it as he throws his arms around you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to burst into joyous laughter as he spins you around.

“what are you doing here?” he asks with a wide smile, eyes catty with mirth as he stares at you— like he can’t believe you’re really back.

“i came for you, actually.”

before you can explain anything more, jungwon’s grandmother is opening the front door, a grin that shines with love greeting all of you as she urges the four of you to enter the house.

“i’ll do it.” jungwon says with fiery determination after all the introductions and explaining is over. “of course i’ll do this for you, y/n. when you left…i thought i might never see you again. but now that you’re back— i can’t bear the thought of you having to leave again, or worse.”

you smile, and it’s a little tight with the last implication jungwon is hardly able to even utter— but right at that moment a cup billowing with steam is sat before you, his grandmother quick to serve the rest of the men also.

“what is this?” jake asks, but the answer is made clear when the steam reaches his nose, the fresh, icy scent almost making him feel more energized.

the elderly woman answers anyway after plucking off a few extra leaves from a small plant that sits at the window sill, along with a row of other potted herbs. she sprinkles the leaves into jungwon’s cup, knowing he likes his a little stronger.

“mint tea with a little ginger. it should give you a bit of a boost. i always drink it when the weather starts to turn cold.”

the woman turns an inquisitive eye towards jake and jay, forehead wrinkling as she looks them over from head to toe.

“although, it seems that you two aren’t very affected by the cold weather.”

the two men stiffen as you remain clueless to the little exchange, none of you considering that their usual attire of a vest and suit with no other coat could implement to their lack of needing warmth— considering their vampirism makes them ‘cold blooded’. jake keeps his wide eyes on the woman, while jay glances at you and jungwon, oblivious as you’re wrapped into a conversation with one another.

jay feels a wave of something he can’t identify prickle across his skin, feeling the air change between the three of you— and whatever it is, it’s not good. the old woman’s lips morph into a kind smile across her face, yet jake feels strangely sick with some sort of anxiety as it all of a sudden hits him. you’re all in an old woman’s house— in the middle of farmlands, with practically no one else around. there’s a garden outside and herbs lined all along the window sill. and now…now is she sensing that they’re vampires as well?

perhaps he and jay were wrong in their theory of you being a witch— maybe the person who gave you those enchanted necklaces…was right in front of them.

but that doesn’t inherently make the old woman evil— so what is this dread that lays so heavily in jake’s stomach?

looking over to jay, the older shares a look with him that says he feels it as well.

“ma’am…wh—“

before jay can finish his sentence, there’s an aggressive pounding at the door, a loud shout following quickly after.

“it’s the terminer! open up!”

instinctively, you all get up and huddle in a corner of the room, trying to make sure you’re out of view from the windows. jay’s breathing picks up as his hand tightly grasps your arm, pushing you farther behind him than you already are as jake pulls you into his arms and jungwon shields his grandmother with his body— already worrying of her getting seriously injured if a ruckus were to break out. no one says anything for a moment, jay tilting his neck out as little as he could to get a glimpse out the window in front of you.

“there’s multiple men out there—“

“the town council.” jungwon practically hisses, and jay has a brief thought of wondering how awful some of the people in this town must be to make hatred burn in the young boy’s eyes— before it sounds like someone kicks at the locked door.

“open up or we’ll enter by force!”

“hurry, hurry!” jungwon harshly whispers, pulling your hood back over your head and pushing you toward a tall cabinet that’s recessed into the wall— appearing big enough to fit you in. jake hurries along to help while jay braces to fight, the sound of thunderous kicking now becoming resounding through the small cottage.

jungwon opens the cabinet and a plethora of dry goods and jars of food go tumbling onto the floor. jake desperately tries to pick everything up quickly, shoving it into another cabinet as jungwon helps you step in and squeeze beside a dusty broom. your limbs are cramped, still unable to push yourself deep enough into the small, cluttered space before a rock is thrown through the window, breaking it and sending shards of glass across the floor.

jay moves to protect jungwon’s grandmother from the glittering rain of sharp pieces as jungwon and jake uselessly try to help you hide— yet it makes no difference in the end.

as someone throws a coat over the jagged edges of the now broken window to jump inside— the door busts down. angry men pour through and flood the small space, easily spotting jake and jungwon’s trembling hands still trying to maneuver your body.

one man— the terminer, moves towards you as you feel like your stomach has been filled with sand. jay yells out and the sound is so scary and desperate in his fear, and as your round eyes move to look at your love— you regret it.

jay only leaves the old woman’s side to protect you— but he’s not even close to reaching you before three men gang around him, twisting his arm back behind him with unrestrained force and tangible malice. jay groans as his eyes shut in pain, still trying to fight the men off before they push him into the wall. and then you can no longer see jay, the backs of the men shielding him from your eyes as you can also not see whatever their hands are doing to him.

then you hear a thud, the floor shaking. and that’s when the men start kicking who you can only assume is jay on the ground.

“stop! stop!” you cry just as jake’s hand grabs at the terminer’s arm, readying to fight as well— while jungwon still stands in front of you. you push him away with a heavy heart, fully exposing yourself to all of them.

“i’ll go with you, don’t hurt them. i’ll go.”

you feel bile rise in your throat with how cruelly the terminer smiles at you, quick to pull chains out from his bulky coat and shackle them to your obediently raised wrists.

jake is unable to abide by your wishes, screaming out your name as you hear the sound of movement— and then struggle. there’s a wail of pain that sounds too much like jake— and then a guttural shout from jay.

your crying at this point as panic strikes you, trying to turn your head and be able to see past the broad bodies of the two men who are leading you out of the house. but before you even can look you’re roughly jostled in their hold on you, pushing you forward with a jolt that causes you to gasp and almost trip over your own feet.

“keep moving forward, witch.” the terminer growls, spit flying from his clenched teeth to land in your cheek. your eyes squeeze shut at the action, tilting your head away from his face.

then there’s a fainter cry, another dull thud— and jungwon’s watery voice that cracks from behind you.

“no— stop! don’t touch her!”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

by the time you’re led to the bridge that overlooks a deep, dried out river way— which is nothing but a long drop to jagged rocks and death— the small population of your town has formed a huge crowd as they follow you— either after spotting or hearing the ruckus as you, jay, jake, and jungwon were pulled along throughout the streets.

you dread to think of where jungwon’s grandmother is, or what’s become of her— and as though you’ve summoned your father just as you think of him— you hear him shout as he pushes his way to the front of the crowd.

“no! wait— let my daughter go! she’s not guilty!”

you’re brought to the middle of the bridge as the rest of the onlookers are guarded by men with torches and sharply spiked spears, warning them to stay back. you almost stumble to the ground when you’re shoved in front of the town’s priest, who must have already been called for the occasion as he stands with an evil air and proudness in his eyes— like you’re the vermin he’s finally caught, and your death will be his trophy of victory.

a heavy noose is swung over your neck, almost making you fall backward as you have to use more strength to lean forward and stay upright. the pressure against your neck is more than uncomfortable— it’s haunting. as though it’s been waiting for you as it grips around your jugular tightly. you do your best to stifle your tears, painting your face with a calm sort of hostility towards the priest.

you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“you’ve been found guilty of evading the law and witchcraft— consulting with the devil, of which is punishable by death. repent now and confess your sins.”

your eyes widen, expecting to at least be given a trial and be judged by the council like the others were before being thrown over the bridge and have your neck snapped by the unforgiving rope. but it seems as though your month long evasion has only cemented everyone’s desire to take your life.

“no, she isn’t! she isn’t guilty!” jay— jake, you’re not even sure you can bear to decipher who’s broken voice that is who cries out for you as you keep your eyes forward, only staring with hatred at the same old priest who killed your mother— somehow even that is easier than looking at your loved ones.

maybe you’re a coward.

“i saw her! i— i was with her when she was accused! i know she’s not a witch, just listen to me!” jungwon shouts, trying to get the attention of the people— but it falls on deaf ears that only seem to crave the death of innocent lives.

perhaps you are cursed— but not by being cohorts with the devil. on the contrary, it seems he is against you.

“go on, child. confess.” the priest prompts, the minute and sinister curve to his wrinkled lips.

you take a shaking breath, liquid filling your eyes no matter how hard you try to resist— even as they turn slender with bitterness.

“one of us will in fact burn in hell, reverend.” you bite, voice trembling and low with emotion as you hear the sobs of your lovers— but there’s an underlying power with which you say your next words. “but where you’re wrong is it won’t be me. when you die you’ll wake to fire melting the flesh from your bones, and the red eyes of lucifer himself will be the only face that greets you into eternal damnation.”

that pompous smile is wiped right off the man’s face, and you could almost be satisfied from the flicker of fear in his eyes after he hears your words— if it weren’t for jake and jay’s begging voices yelling out to you again.

“please, y/n, just look at us!”

“will you really refuse us one last glimpse of your face before you die!”

you’re unable to contain your sobs then— and despite that it’s not the emotion you want to show them in your last moments, you lift your head and gaze at them through the tears.

you feel an almost unbearable amount of pain straining your heart, and you wonder if you’ll manage to die from a broken heart before the noose squeezes around your throat. jay’s wounded eye is swollen and bloodied from being beaten and kicked— and his lip is in the same shape. jake’s clothes are torn, a small yet deep break in the skin by the tail of his brow. but the worse thing is by far their tears; how their legs are too weak from devistation to even hold themselves up as the men keep them upright by the rough hold on their arms. how cruel they are— making sure your lovers have a clear view to watch your body be flung over the bridge.

you the crack of your neck won’t echo down the dry river’s trench— for their sake…

“do it.” the priest urges with unbridled rage at your words, and the terminer’s quick to roughly tug you to the bridge’s edge.

suddenly there’s a piercing scream— a stark contrast to the viciously delighted chants of the townspeople.

everyone looks over as a hole is made amongst the crowd, everyone stepping away from one form.

as bodies move, you’re finally able to recognize the person as your father, who’s stood with his eyes closed, hands in front of him and palms up— while you watch his lips move, seeming to be chanting under his breath.

his voice starts to slowly grow in volume— as so does your dread, unknown tongues spilling from his mouth.

there’s a choked sound— and you look just in time to see the priest’s neck crack to the side, the broken edge of his bone poking up against his skin as his eyes open and pupils tremble— like he’s fighting for them not to roll to the back of his head. yet they still do, after a few blood vessels pop and the whites of his eyes are filled with red. the image is burned into your memory as his limp body falls lifelessly off the bridge.

there’s a splat— quickly followed by the gasps of the crowd as you’re grateful that you can’t see how his body is surely busted open and bloody across jagged rocks.

“father, stop!” you cry— but it’s useless.

everyone knows he’s the witch now after witnessing the horrors you know he didn’t want to commit.

but in his mind— he has to stop this.

he did nothing when they killed your mother in favor of raising you, fearing you might wouldn’t survive— at least not happily— if both of your parents were dead and you were left orphaned. but now this is the best choice. he can’t let you or anyone else die. even if it means he will.

“it’s him! it’s him! hang him before he kills us all!” someone yells out amongst the crowd.

everyone is now in a panic, women and children are crying. some run away to evade the impending doom they think your father will reign upon them. a few council members let go of jake and jay in favor of capturing your father, and he does nothing to fight them off as he silences his chants, knowing he’s now too weakened to force all of them off. there’s literally a small army of men ready to fight, and he desires no other blood to be shed. he can only hope this is enough to turn anymore accusations away from you and save your life.

“no, no, please! i beg you!” you scream as someone takes the noose off of your neck and onto his.

your vision turns blurry and strange after that— and so does your hearing, like your ears have been filled with water. all you can hear is muffled screams— you think some of them might be your own. you must be trying to walk forward, but your trembling legs are too weak as you fall to your knees. all you’re able to focus on is your father’s eyes, strained with sadness as he tries his best to hide it from you— giving you one last, quivering smile.

they throw him over the bridge.

the snap of his neck does echo, and the rope cracks from the momentous swing of his limp body.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

EMBERS IN THE ASH;

the mansion is filled with finely dressed people, all having a good time— filling the space with conversation and laughter.

jay and jake are on either one of your sides, the younger’s hand on your waist while the older holds your hand.

there’s the ring of someone dinging their glass, everyone’s head including yours looking up to the town’s mayor as he stands at the upper level balcony, overlooking the whole party.

“if i may have your attention.” the man politely begins, voice bouncing off the marble floors with an echo. “as you all know, this is no ordinary celebration. while this fall festival is to enjoy the festivities and spend time with loved ones, it’s also to remember the lives that were lost to the horrific ‘witch trails’ four years ago.”

the mayor raises his glass of champagne, and the rest of you follow. “a toast, to our family and friends— even strangers, who have passed on.”

you, jay, and jake take a sip of the pale liquid in your sparkling glasses. the taste is bittersweet, and so are your feelings.

your father’s death was tragic— even now, you still wake in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares that force you to watch him die in an endless loop. but his selfless sacrifice wasn’t in vain. after the mass witness of what true witchcraft can really do, and the absence of the priest— who was rotting the anxious minds of the people— things changed for the better. your goodhearted mayor was elected, and hope was reinstalled into all of you. the problem was lack of funds to make the town a better place— and that’s where jake and jay came in. as humans they were born into a wealthy family, and in their undead life that money only grew over the years. the mayor had a strong belief that he’d find good fortune in mining, and jay and jake were happy to invest in the plan— knowing that it could be healing for you and jungwon to have your hometown— that’s filled with fond memories and tragic endings alike, be changed into a better place.

well, the investment struck gold— literally.

the town’s buildings were reconstructed and the influx of wealth attracted businesses and many new opportunities to arise. a clinic was even opened, where jungwon is currently apprenticing to become a doctor.

unfortunately, the day of your father’s death was also his grandmother’s. when the mob came for you, one of the men cruelly pushed her down, and the fall was just too much for her worn body to take. she was clearly in great pain, lying on the floor— but she urged jungwon to go after you.

and when he returned to the cottage— she had already passed on, left on the dirty floor with a hand over her weak heart.

her death and the guilt practically tormented jungwon— it nearly drove him mad. the only person that was able to get through to him was jay, and the two became extremely close in the process. soon the very thing that made jungwon want to end it all fueled his determination. he couldn’t save his grandmother, but how many lives have been lost that could have easily been prevented or aided, even by the simple knowledge of basic first aid or prevention?

jungwon is happy now, sated by his fulfilling work that is never done. it consumes most of his time, but it’s also what brought that sparkle back in his eyes— life. he no longer has the empty stare of a dead man, and for that— none of you can complain for how busy he is.

this brings you back to the present— standing in the huge mansion that you now call home. jay and jake made the arrangements to build it months ago, and it was finally done. so not only is this a fall festival, but it’s also a housewarming of sorts.

“now, for anyone that would like to participate in the corn maze, please make your way outside!”

you flash the boys an excited smile before turning your back to them in favor of following the crowd out the door, but jake stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“we’re— we’re hungry, miss.” he says shyly, yet the way he looks at you with those gleaming, wanting eyes tells you he’s not as bashful as he’s trying to portray.

neither of them should need more blood, you’d just let them feed from you this morning, and the subtle blush on jake’s cheeks give away that they have plenty of blood in their system for him to even be able to have such a reaction. not only that— but jake called you ‘miss’, a title that now after being so far into your relationship he only uses when he’s needy.

your eyes crease in suspicion, gaze moving to look at jay standing right behind jake’s shoulder. he blanches— very minutely, before his head tilts downwards in favor of inspecting the floor beneath his feet.

you bite down a smirk, knowing exactly what game they’re wanting to play.

but you want to play a game of your own.

“later, darlings. i really want to go into the corn maze.”

tugging your arm out of his grip to descend out the front door, you swear you hear jake let out a complaining whine under his breath before both men hurry to follow you.

the air has a slight bite thanks to the chilly air, but the sun shines brightly and everyone is buzzing with excitement— making you feel almost electric.

you run to the entrance of the corn maze, both of your lovers fretting at you not to be so fast as they don’t want to lose you to the small crowd that came outside. you don’t respond to them in favor of looking at each pathway.

you could either go left, right, or straight.

your pause is long enough for jay to think you’re unable to decide as he begins to suggest his idea. “i think we should just constantly go right. eventually we—“

“tag!” you childishly declare, pushing your hand against jay’s chest, giving jake a glance as though to say ‘you too’, before bolting left.

“dearest, don’t fall!” jay calls, quickly running after you. jake mutters out a ‘seriously?’ under his breath, a fond smile on his face as he watches you giggle and look over your shoulder at jay, his best friend’s worry turning to playfulness as your energy fills him with it.

then the two of you turn a corner and jake finally breaks out of his admiring— hurrying to catch up with the both of you before he gets lost trying to find you.

you continue trying to escape their sight as you laugh, turning down different pathways as quickly as you can. dirt crunches beneath your boots and the rustle of crisp corn stalks and your lovers calls and laughter is all you can hear. you must be towards the edge of the maze or something— either way, you don’t think anyone else is nearby.

so with that reassurance and feeling cheeky knowing the boys are so needy, you halt your running and turn towards the direction jake and jay are coming from.

just before they round the corner and appear in front of you, you pull down the neckline of your dress, your chest popping out.

jay’s the first to reach you, stopping dead in his tracks and wide smile falling as he stares at you flashing him.

jake’s giggles aren’t far behind— the puppy practically running into jay’s back.

he’s mid complaint when he steps to the side and finally gets an eyeful of you, that flush rushing back to his cheeks again.

“y— y/n, what are you doing?”

you laugh, covering your modesty as quickly as you revealed it before turning on your heel to run off again— except a rock catches on your boot heel and sends you falling onto the dusty ground.

both men gasp behind you, horniness completely forgotten as they are both by your sides in a second to help you up and make sure you’re not hurt.

“i told you not to run, gorgeous. your dress is way too long for it.” jay gently scolds, cupping your face in his hands as he gives you a onceover.

“sorry, angel. i suppose i got carried away.” you breathlessly laugh, your smile aiding his worry— especially as you press a sweet peck to his cheek that has his eyes sparkling over cutely. jake is busy dusting off the skirt portion of your dress when his heightened sense of smell catches a whiff of something.

“…you’re bleeding, my love.”

“hm?” you hum, somewhat startled as you look down at your hands for cuts or a tear in your long sleeves.

you miss the way jake’s eyes dilate as he slowly hikes your skirts up— all the way to the bend of your thigh. it isn’t until you gasp at a wet sensation against your leg that you look away from your arms and down at the boy on his knees.

there’s a small cut on your inner thigh, yet it’s deep enough to have a long, thin trickle of blood dripping down from it— and jake is licking it up, tongue flattened as he slowly runs the warm appendage up your soft skin. your heart quickens, and you know jay notices it too, as well as smells the scent of your sweet blood. the raven haired wraps wanting arms around your waist, making the hardness in his pants known as it presses against your hip.

“pu— puppy…” you whisper, feeling yourself dampen between your legs as jake whimpers happily in response, kissing the blood trail up your thigh— dangerously close to your core.

once he gets to the actual cut he presses an opened mouth kiss to it, letting out a breathy moan when he sucks at it. at the same time, jay rocks his hips against you, just once— but you know he’s getting more and more worked up as he starts kissing at your neck.

jake’s fangs brush against your wound, jay’s simultaneously raking across the skin of your neck— and you hurry to pull yourself away from them, knowing if you don’t they’ll start feeding from you right where anyone can show up and see.

“we need— a room.” you pant, standing a foot away from them as your chest expands and falls quickly.

jay isn’t hesitant to tell the both of you to follow him, jake clumsily getting up from the ground as the older takes your hand to lead you.

his theory of turning one way the entire time worked— though you’re not sure if he was actually correct or just lucky. either way, jay and jake are on a mission to find somewhere private to ravish you as the older keeps a firm grip on your hand. taking you up the stairs and down a hallway, the sound of music and voices of the now dancing crowd fades away.

“how many bedchambers do we have anyway?” you ask curiously as you look around the fully furnished and decorated space.

jake and jay had given you a tour, but not of the entire mansion, only the bottom floor— the construction was only recently completed and so was purchasing and moving in all the furniture.

“who cares?” jay says impatiently, too pent up. jake speaks at the same time. “four.”

“damn...” you mumble under your breath, jake hurrying in front of you and jay to open a double door, large and white with intricate detailing carved into the wood.

“here it is, love. our room.” jake says softly, eyes shinning and sweet as he watches your reaction to the space closely.

you gasp as you take in how beautifully done it all is. the room is moody, mahogany wood with black tapestries and pops of red. a large, black wardrobe is painted with intricate vines and little flowers spiraling up the surface— and a canopy bed is placed right before you, black curtains draped beautifully.

“you…how did you both even do this? it’s gorgeous! i can’t even express how well done this is.”

“it was all jay.” jake tattles, smiling at the older— who’s already pink in the cheeks when you turn to him.

“you did this?” you ask in wonderment. jay’s hand squeezes yours tighter.

“well…i enjoy fashion, and it translates to room design also..i suppose.”

“oh, angel, i love you.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around kind his neck to kiss him, jay not resisting in the slightest as he smiles against your lips.

“hey! i helped with the bed!” jake whines, though you can hear his smile. the puppy’s hands fall to your waist, pressing up behind you as he nuzzles into your neck for attention.

“of course you did. all you care about is where we’ll lay, isn’t it?” you smirk after separating from the kiss, only to turn your head and give jake a fondly accusing look.

“i refute that accusation.” the brunet denies poorly, unable to keep his cheeky smile at bay.

“i second it.” jay replies dryly, only for his eyes to sparkle with mirth as you giggle against his chest.

“untrue! i have many opinions for the choice in paintings we should put on the wall.”

“and what opinions would that be, jakey?”

his eyes shift to a heated stare as he playfully bites his lip, gaze roaming over the skin and bones of your collar— exposed in your already low cut dress. (it’s rare that you can leave your neck on display given how often the men feed from you, but lately you’ve asked them to bite your wrists instead as you’ve found it’s a more convenient spot and doesn’t rile them up as much as other places on your body— especially since you’re usually wearing long sleeves to shield from the increasingly chilly weather.)

“your flawless face, hung up in every room.” he declares, beginning to press ticklish little kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“hm, i have to admit that’s not a bad idea.” jay smirks, you weakly slapping him on the chest with a bashful smile and shake of the head.

“enough, that’s nonsense.”

jake abruptly sinks to his knees, hand slipping beneath your dress to lightly trail his fingers up your calf— and the grin is wiped right off your face as your eyes widen just barely.

“perhaps even,” jake murmurs hotly, his breath rising goosebumps on your flesh as he slowly collects your skirts in his other hand. you know his face must be close as you feel his nose brush against your thigh. “a painting of your bare skin; these beautiful thighs; your supple breasts.”

your breathing stutters as jake’s tongue teasingly swipes over your core, an airy chuckle made between your legs as the man doesn’t miss how your body starts to tremble.

“though i doubt even the most talented painter could capture how glistening and wet you become for us.”

“as if. i’m not letting any other man besides us look upon her naked body.” jay retorts— the buttons of your dress’s bodice being ripped off a second later when the man forcibly tears it open, pulling your chemise down and causing your breasts to bounce forth. his mouth immediately latches to your tit, sucking at your hardened nipple as his other hand tweeks the other.

at the same time, jake’s tongue gets bolder— moaning at the taste of your arousal.

“i— i thought you said you were hung— hungry.”

“come now, love. you know that’s not what we really wanted.” the brunet gently retorts, drawing a gasp from your lips as his fingers rubs up and down your slit. “your blood does taste sweet, i can still smell it. but there’s something else that i know tastes even sweeter.”

you moan when jake finally stops teasing and attaches his plump lips to your cunt, peeking his tongue out with each open mouth kiss he grants you with.

jay’s hands become firmer as he gropes your tits in both palms. his fangs accidentally brush against your sensitive skin— yet it causes you no pain, only pleasure as your eyes squeeze shut, hands needing something to hold onto as you cup his face in your hands. his shut eyes open to gaze up at you— dark eyes heavy lidded and so sexy as he continues to tenderly suck your bud between his pouty lips.

“oh, angel. you’re so pretty.” you murmur lovingly, at the same time spreading your unsteady legs further apart as jake starts to lose himself in your pussy.

to your dismay, jay pulls off your tits with a pop— but the disappointment doesn’t last long as he begins taking off your dress completely.

“jake, get out so i can get her out of this…jake!”

jay huffs when he gets no answer and the sounds of your dripping pussy squelching in jake’s incessant mouth doesn’t stop, a loud moan forced from you as jay reaches under your dress and pulls jake out from under your skirts by the collar— the suction of jake’s lips around your clit becoming even stronger when he was roughly pulled away from you.

neither man say a word to each other when jay lets go and jake almost falls on his back, the younger only catching his breath and wiping his glistening lips against his hand— and jay removing the layers of your clothing with quick movements.

when you’re stripped bare, you yelp as jay picks you up in his arms— descending into quiet giggles after as your legs wrap around his torso.

laying you in the center of the bed, both men are already kneeled between your spread legs— that you only stretch wider as you look at the two expectantly.

“well? you said you were hungry, so eat.”

both men nearly conk heads as they eagerly lower to get your pussy in their mouths, the following throaty groan and high pitched whine sending a wave of pleasure to your nerves. jay descends down to your pulsing entrance, flicking his tongue out and going a little deeper each time inside you, slowly stretching you out around him. jake suckles at your clit like the brainless little puppy he is, spit drooling out of his mouth to slick your already dripping folds.

“go—“ you swallow around the pleasured sounds that try to escape you, fingers tangling into jake’s hair in an attempt to keep him and you grounded. “go deeper, angel. use your fingers too. i want— i want to have both your cocks tonight.”

“fff— fuck. yes, my lady. whatever you desire.”

jake whimpers at your request, beginning to pathetically hump against the mattress, comforter bunching between his legs— before you pull at the tufts of his hair.

“no, puppy. be good.”

a whine, and then— “sorry, miss.”

as the process of jay stretching you out on his fingers and tongue continue, one finger— two, then four— paired with his wriggling appendage and jake’s ticklish whimpers against your swollen clit, you’re brought closer and closer to ecstasy.

“no— no more. i’m about to cum.” you pant.

but all jake hears is you’re about to cum, and greedily he pushes jay away from your cunt to finger your hole and lick hungrily at your pussy like a crazed animal. you can’t even scold him as you cry and whither against his ministrations, your release filling his mouth.

“bad puppy. so, so bad.” you half heartedly scold. you’re not even entirely certain the boy hears you when he pulls away from your pussy with dazed eyes, tongue almost hanging out of his mouth as your cum sticks to his lips in glossy strings.

“me first.” jay tells jake grumpily— the older using jake’s disobedient moment as a chance to get ahead and take all of his clothes off. he lays on his side next to you, looking at you for permission with begging eyes that have you going along with his every whim immediately.

“go ahead, angel. you can have me how you want me.” you grant, thumb rubbing up and down his temple.

jay presses a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering a thank you before grabbing your thigh and positioning it over his hip.

“this is hardly fair. i wanted to be facing her.” jake whines like a spoiled child, jay rolling his eyes in response.

“you’re the one who started it.”

“i—“

“stop fighting and fuck me!” you raise your voice, feeling edged by how you can feel jay’s hard length poking at your inner thigh, yet it’s not inside you yet.

they both give you an apologetic look before jake’s settling behind your back, pulling himself against you in a hug— while jay delicately glides his cock back and forth through your folds, making sure he’s slick enough for you.

“ready, my lady?”

at your wordless nod jay sinks his bulbous head past your hole, slowly pushing the rest of himself inside. jake repeats the action after ensuring you’re alright, and you moan in complete bliss at the feeling of being so full when jake and jay are both nestled to the hilt in your cunt.

“fuck, can feel your pussy cl— clenching.” jay strangles out, fingers squeezing into the side of your hip. jake sounds as though he’s already about to lose it, hot breath puffing against your shoulder as he nuzzles his face between your neck and shoulder, hands moving from your waist to hold your tits in his needy hands.

“so..good!” he whines, unable to wait for your permission to move as he starts fucking into you with small thrusts, getting used to the feeling of sharing your pussy with another cock.

“shit— jake!” jay grits as though he’s scolding him for his misbehavior— yet he also can’t help rocking his hips into you when his friend starts.

that gummy, sensitive spot is constantly hit as the men thrust into you at the opposite moment, making you feel deliriously good as you find yourself shaking— your previous orgasm not helping your dwindling control.

“fuck yes! good boys..oh my god! faster, fuck me faster!”

jay whimpers, high pitched and desperate as his hips start slapping against your skin, hiking your leg farther across him as his hand takes a handful of your thigh’s squishy flesh in a bruising grip. jake is crying worshiping words of your body and beauty as he pulls away from your neck to watch how your ass bounces with every pound of his cock, one hand leaving your breast to grab your cheek and spread it open.

“my love, you look so gorgeous with two cocks stuffed in your little cunt— sound so pretty too.”

“c— can we breed your pussy, dearest?” jay pants. “want our seed to fill up your hole and fuck it out of you.”

“yes, angel— puppy, give me your cum.”

hands are squeezing and grabbing all over your body as you lose track of who’s hands are who’s anymore, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when jay and jake’s cocks pump ribbon after ribbon of white into your wanting cunt. their warm fluid fills you to the brim until you feel it gushing out as they continue to fuck you, filthy noises of their dripping wet, pulsing cocks continuing to absolutely ruin your hole.

you reach your release with a loud cry, throat cracking as your arousal drenches jay’s groin and drips down between the three of you.

your body continues to shake even after it’s over, none of you moving from the sensitivity (or perhaps it’s simply that none of you want to). jay presses comforting pecks up your sternum, even as he’s catching his own breath— and jake is sat up on his elbow, even though he’s weak from pleasure— to brush your hair out of your face and comb his fingers through your scalp.

“you look like a dream…” the brunet whispers reverently.

“i feel like i’m in one.” you whisper back with a breathless laugh.

your dark angel slowly pulls out of you, causing all of you to grimace before he’s calming you with two kisses to your cheek. “then let's pray you never wake.”

the next pass of time is spent with more kisses pressed between loving words said with tender tones and passionate eyes that are so warm— so warm with love that you find yourself sniffling as jake is buttoning the last clasp of your dress shut— all of you fully cleaned and clothed now.

“love, what’s wrong?”

“i’m— i’m perfectly fine. perfect.” you whisper, wiping your teary eyes as jay cups your face in concern, both men staring at you. “i’m just so happy. i love you both so much, you’re my everything.”

they fall quiet— which is unusual for the two who always answer your professions of love with eager promises of their own. jake gives jay a look, and the older grins with a fond sigh.

“fine. i suppose now is a perfect moment to.”

“…what?” you utter as you watch jake walk to the large wardrobe you admired earlier, opening it and pulling something out that he keeps hidden in his palms as he returns to stand before you again.

“it’s not the most traditional or legal proposal of sorts, but our whole relationship is rather unique— so i’d say it’s fitting.” jay says, his eyes utterly entranced by yours as the tears finally begin to spill as jake uncovers the crimson little box in his hands, slowly opening it to reveal a glittering ring.

words don’t grace your tongue— but it’s not necessary as jake speaks first.

“you’ve bewitched us, y/n. body and soul. a million passes of the moon couldn’t even satisfy our all consuming desire to be with you always.”

“and we wanted to ask you,” jay smiles, a twinkling of tears in his own eyes. “if you would like to spend an eternity with us. to give us a chance at making you endlessly happy, and being truly ours.”

your heart pounds, your hands tremble— these two men stand before you with centuries worth of love to give you, and your only two bites away from it.

nothing has ever felt so right before as you say yes, yes, yes!

and as jay holds your hand and jake slips the ring onto your finger, all you can think of is how your love will last even more than forever.

PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED

NOTE: congrats, you made it to the end! ily for that. consensual kisses for you 😙💕

kinda upset i didn’t get to post this during october 🙄 but it’s still autumn! sooooo hopefully you don’t mind. i tried to address all of the plot that i made up but i couldn’t always find a spot to talk about it that seemed right. so if you have questions, ask away!

this fic had my google and youtube history so out of wack. like ‘what was soap like around the 1700’s’ and ‘how did peasants bathe’. 💀 (they used animal fat as soap btw. it was gelatinous & not like a bar of soap at all…i decided to leave that detail out.)

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seongwars · 3 days ago

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strangers by nature | i

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor & fluff in later chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.8K Warnings: angst no comfort, swearing, suggestive content, puppy!!!!

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a/n: here's the first part to the revamped mingi drabble series someone tell me to finish my other wips

“Don’t fuck this up for me,” you hissed, slipping on your heels and casting a sharp look in his direction.

Mingi, lounging by the door with his tie half-done, didn’t even look up. He adjusted his cufflinks instead, his movements slow, deliberate, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You think I’m the one who’s going to mess this up?” he replied, his voice laced with mockery.

“You’re lucky I’m even bothering to show up at all. God knows I could be elsewhere.”

“Did you forget that you sabotaged last year’s event when you showed up completely shitfaced?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, hoping no one would notice. Mingi just laughed, a bitter, mocking sound that rang louder than you’d intended to speak as you pulled him aside.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he slurred, his words coming slow and thick, as if savoring each one. “But look at you, all dressed up like it matters.”

His gaze raked over you, and for the first time, you felt small—like everything you’d done, everything you cared about, was nothing but a performance in his eyes.

Throughout the evening, he continued, unleashing a trail of subtle digs and outright insults, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“No, I’m not much into charity—though I guess marrying Ms. Choi counts,” he drawled. You felt the sting of the insult, a wave of humiliation creeping up as he smirked at your expression.

And as he went on, his words got uglier, accusations laced with venomous insinuations about your foundation, about the people you’d invited, about you.

“You know what’s funny? This is all she has. She begged me to be here, begged me to care. Pathetic, right?”

It was the cruelty of it that made you flinch. He looked at you, pleased with himself, with that twisted smile that told you he had come tonight for one reason only: to break you down.

Mingi didn’t hate you. He didn’t even care enough to despise you. Hatred would have required him to feel something at all, but to Mingi, you were nothing more than an obligation, a piece of his life he had to endure when the occasion called for it.

You had to exist in the same spaces as him, but only on his terms, only when he wanted to remind you how little you meant to him.

Mingi had taken so much from you already—had eroded every bit of independence and dignity you’d fought to hold onto. But the annual Gold Gala, hosted by your foundation, was different. It was one of the few things left that was still unmistakably yours.

The Cromer Foundation wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of teaching in, but it was something. It was your way of keeping that dream of becoming a music teacher alive. It was a way to support arts education, a way to pour hope and passion into the future.

It was the only part of this new life you’d been forced into that felt like it had real purpose, the only place where you could still feel yourself making an impact, even if it meant facing Mingi’s ire every step of the way.

“I had to work my ass off,” you bit out, voice trembling with the strain of holding back everything you wanted to scream.

“I had to clean up your mess to convince donors to continue supporting the foundation after you nearly destroyed it last time. This is the one thing I have left that actually matters to me.”

The words were punctuated by the ache in your throat, your heart pounding as if it might burst from the sheer weight of your frustration.

“I’m not begging you to be there. I never asked for that. But I think we both know that neither of us wants to hear our families complaining about your belligerence, especially since I made concessions to let her be there.”

Your voice caught on the word, but you forced it out. He knew exactly who you meant—her, the woman he’d flaunted just enough to humiliate you but never enough for his family to call him out on it.

Jeong Ahri. His first love, the girl who knew him before he became what he was now. She was also his best friend’s sister, the one woman who, even in her absence, always held a piece of him. Just the sound of her name was enough for him to lay his arms down.

Mingi didn’t consider himself religious. He’d never felt the pull toward faith, despite his family’s insistence on portraying themselves as god-fearing, pious people. But the day his father announced that he was considering a merger, weighing options to secure their legacy through an alliance, Mingi prayed for the first time he could remember.

But his father chose otherwise. Mingi hadn’t heard his father’s reasoning in detail—only the clipped statement that “it was decided” and that it would be you instead of Ahri. It wasn’t that she was lacking in education or accomplishments; her qualifications were impeccable.

But you were different, his father had said. More refined. More…controlled.

Where Ahri was unpredictable, a free spirit with an uncontainable passion that Mingi had always adored, you were composed, you brought a stability that his father believed Ahri could never offer, and to him, that was paramount. It was a choice made for optics and security, the perfect union on paper, a marriage that would uphold the family’s reputation.

Now here he was, bound not to her, but to you—an arrangement forged by titles and alliances, with love considered an afterthought at best. This marriage wasn’t just a partnership but a meticulously crafted piece of his family’s foundation.

And you—perhaps unwillingly, perhaps reluctantly—were the chosen piece in this carefully woven tapestry of alliances.

“How could I forget? We’re putting on a show, some picture-perfect life that everyone else could admire.” His gaze was sharp, unyielding.

“Picture-perfect life?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room.

“Please. This is far from that. All I wanted was to make something meaningful out of this sham of a marriage, to salvage whatever was left of my life.”

“Meaningful?” he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

"You think you're the only one making sacrifices?" he snapped, his voice low but venomous.

"I lost any chance at a real life the moment I agreed to marry some pathetic charity case." The words dripped with contempt, his gaze locked onto yours as though daring you to react.

“Playing the victim as always,” you replied coldly, your gaze steady as you met Mingi’s glare. His jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark passing over his eyes, but you pressed on, undeterred.

"Maybe you should have fought harder against your parents instead of just rolling over every time they threw you a command. Including this marriage.”

That struck a nerve. Mingi’s expression twisted, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his armor. He scoffed, but there was no humor in it—just a bitter edge, sharp and unrestrained.

“You think I didn’t try? They didn’t care who I spent my time with as long as they got what they wanted—a merger, a legacy. So I went along with it. It wasn’t worth the battle when I already had Ahri.”

His words stung, sharper than you’d anticipated, cutting right through you. But as you stared at him, searching for any hint of regret, any flicker of hesitation, there was…nothing. Just the same cold, unfeeling expression that had worn down your patience over time.

“And here we are—both miserable because you took the easy way out,” you sighed.

“All those sacrifices you keep talking about, all those things you supposedly gave up? They mean nothing if you can’t even own up to them. Including marrying the ‘charity case’ you despise so much.”

You saw his eyes harden, his shoulders tense, but you refused to back down, leaning into the truth you both knew but never spoke.

“You wanted a convenient life, and you got it. But don’t you dare try to make me the villain just because you couldn’t stand up to them—or to yourself.”

You held his gaze, a cold, bitter silence stretching between you. Without another word, you turned, steeling yourself for the night ahead, knowing that the only thing left between you was the hollow image of the life you failed to create.

⋆

Your wedding to Mingi was more of a business transaction than a celebration. The ceremony took place in an office that bore more resemblance to a boardroom than a place for vows.

The only witnesses were your parents, your cousins Jongho and San, and Mingi’s best friend, Yunho. All were seated with neutral expressions, gazes locked on the officiant as if marking the completion of a financial report.

You barely remembered the words exchanged. There was no music, no flowers—just the murmured vows, the scratch of a pen signing your names, and the cold weight of a ring slipped onto your finger by a man who didn’t even meet your eyes.

When it was over, the officiant closed the book with a finality that made your stomach drop—a reminder that there was no turning back now. Your parents offered restrained congratulations, their smiles polite but empty.

Only your cousins seemed to look at you with genuine sympathy, understanding the weight of what you’d just committed to. Mingi’s mother, on the other hand, wore a sharp, proud smile, one devoid of joy but full of satisfaction. To her, this wasn’t a marriage; it was a completed transaction.

Following the ceremony, a small reception was held in the upstairs lounge. Glasses were raised, and toasts were made to "a prosperous future," though they felt painfully empty.

Mingi barely spoke to you, instead engaging in brief, clipped conversations with his father and yours about the two families’ businesses and the outlook for the next quarter.

You sat in silence, barely tasting the champagne in your glass, as you watched the people around you discuss the "success" of this union. You wanted to scream, to tell them this wasn’t a union, just an arrangement—a legal binding that had stripped you of any choice you once had.

The room felt cold, and as you glanced at the man who was now your husband, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something lonely.

You had spent years nurturing a different dream—one that had nothing to do with boardrooms or mergers. You had wanted to teach music, to live a quiet, meaningful life, far from the shadows of your family’s empire.

Drawn to the idea of leaving it all behind, you envisioned moving abroad to pass on your love for music to young, eager minds. The plan was simple: save enough, book a one-way ticket, and disappear into the life you wanted.

But when you told your family about your plans, their reactions left you stunned. They couldn't see a future for you as a teacher—not when you were the heir to the Choi Group, not when your last name carried so much weight.

You fought them on it, desperate to hold onto the life you wanted. Shouting matches stretched late into the night, but when arguments proved fruitless, desperation drove you to action.

Just as you reached the final hurdle, minutes away from your flight, the authorities stopped you. Your heart dropped as you realized just how deep your parents' control ran—how their reach extended even across oceans you hadn't yet crossed.

By the time you both left the reception, it was clear there would be no honeymoon, no illusion of a romantic escape. Mingi went to his own car without a word, and you followed in your own to the penthouse, wondering how a marriage could feel like a prison on the very first day.

Crystal chandeliers cast their glow across the gala hall, the soft hum of conversation mingling with the gentle clink of champagne flutes. This event was one of the few things you could call your own—a charitable foundation you’d helped establish to support arts education. It wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of, but it was something—a way to keep that dream alive, even in the world you’d been forced into.

You moved among the guests, offering a polished smile and gracious words about the foundation’s mission, with Mingi at your side, his arm draped around your waist as you made the rounds together.

To the crowd, you looked like the perfect couple—a united front. But you felt the coldness between you, the way Mingi’s hand barely touched your waist, how his gaze slid away from yours the moment anyone’s attention drifted.

The evening was moving along smoothly until you noticed her—the woman standing near the bar, her eyes fixed on Mingi. Dressed in a red gown, she radiated confidence, her gaze unflinching as she watched him. She was the shadow that trailed him, the one he turned to whenever he could no longer bear the weight of pretending with you.

Beside you, Mingi’s posture tensed almost imperceptibly, his hand lingering at the small of your back. He noticed her too, of course; he’d be a fool not to. Yet his grip on you remained firm, as if bound by an invisible script dictating the image you two were expected to maintain. Nothing amiss, nothing unseemly, as though the weight of her presence hadn’t shaken him at all.

To anyone who looked closely, the story between them was clear: her gaze was steady, defiant even, a silent reminder that she held a part of him you would never touch.

This was meant to be your night—the one place to grieve the shattered pieces of your own dreams, had you succeeded in escaping the clutches of this arrangement.

But as you held yourself in place, the warmth of Mingi’s hand was nothing but a reminder that even when he stood at your side, his heart was somewhere else entirely.

You returned to the penthouse alone, the buzz of the gala still ringing in your ears, though the evening itself felt hollow and cold now that you were by yourself. The laughter and polite applause, the countless exchanges of small talk and polished smiles—none of it seemed to matter.

Mingi had left your side almost as soon as the event began winding down, disappearing into the night with the excuse of business matters to attend to. You didn’t need to ask; you already knew where he was headed and with whom.

You weren’t bothered by Mingi’s connection to Ahri. Sure, he brought her to the penthouse on your wedding night, but you understood that their story existed long before you ever came into the picture—a chapter of his life that, despite the complexities, didn’t take away from your own sense of self-worth or purpose in this arrangement.

The memory of that night still lingered. You had walked into the penthouse to find Ahri there, her laughter filling the space as she sat comfortably on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand.

Mingi was by her side, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers tracing patterns along her thigh. A soft smile played on his lips—a smile you didn’t know he was capable of, one that felt like a taunt.

And when you retired to your room, the primal sounds from the both of them escaped through the confines of Mingi’s bedroom.

“Shit, just like that, right there, Mingi!”

“Fuuuuck, takin’ me so well.”

You knew they were both trying to hurt you, flaunting how intimate their relationship was in front of you, as if to remind you of your place. Their calculated cruelty seeped into your consciousness like poison, amplifying your insecurities and sowing seeds of self-doubt.

Every laugh, every touch between them was a dagger to your heart, a reminder of the love and warmth you were denied. The pain was a constant, gnawing ache, leaving you feeling more alone and unworthy with each passing moment.

You had hoped, at the very least, that Mingi might see you as more than an obligation—perhaps even as an ally. Instead, you were nothing more than a prop in his life, a fixture he resented. If only he’d see you for who you really were—not the enemy in this tangled web, but someone who could make this shared fate a little less lonely.

You kicked off your heels, draped your coat over the back of the sofa, and sank down, staring out at the glittering city lights beyond the penthouse windows. Loneliness settled over you as you replayed the night’s events.

Your gaze drifted to the piano in the corner. For a moment, you could almost see him there—Hongjoong, with his fingers drifting effortlessly over the keys as he coaxed a melody from the instrument.

He had been the son of your piano teacher, your best friend, and your first love. You remembered the way he’d listened to your dreams, encouraging you to reach higher, even when you could see the exhaustion creeping into his features, the shadow of his terminal illness never far behind.

“Would you still believe in me now?” you murmured to the empty room, the silence thickening with the question. You knew what Hongjoong would say.

“Fuck it, sell your shares and leave. Start over. Eat the rich.”

He had shown you what passion looked like, not only for music but for life itself, even as he faced an uncertain future. He had given you strength and taught you resilience. The long afternoons spent together, his hands guiding yours over the piano keys, had been a sanctuary from the expectations and pressures of your family.

The silence in the room seemed to shift, becoming less oppressive, more contemplative. You could almost hear Hongjoong's voice, softer now, more encouraging.

"You've got this," he would say. "Just take the first step."

You closed your eyes. Tomorrow would come with its demands and pretenses, but for now, you surrendered to the silence, letting it carry you into a sleep that softened the loneliness—if only for a little while.

Ahri’s laughter filled the confined space of the car, soft and unrestrained as she collapsed against Mingi’s chest, her fingers drawing idle patterns along his jawline. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, a playful daring that stirred something in him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your wife looked like she wanted to kill me,” Ahri giggled. She knew exactly what she was to him—a temptation, a release, a break from the predictability of his life.

Mingi only smirked, his large hands cupping the curve of her ass with ease as he let out a low chuckle, brushing his thumb along her skin as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I would’ve stopped her,” he murmured, the words casual, devoid of any true weight.

Ahri tilted her head, her eyes searching his face, a smile curling at her lips. She could read the lack of hesitation in his expression, the cold confidence of a man who knew he was untouchable, who knew he had nothing to lose by being here with her.

“You’d really do that for me?” she asked, her voice soft and playful, but she knew the answer.

They both did. She didn’t need him to reassure her, didn’t need promises or apologies—she was here because she understood exactly who he was, what he wanted, and how little he cared about the impact it had on anyone else.

“Of course,” he said simply, brushing his lips against her neck with an easy familiarity. His smirk grew as he pulled her closer, rutting up against her with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

The idea of hurting you wasn’t something he dwelled on; it was merely collateral, an afterthought in a life where his own desires came first.

To him, this wasn’t betrayal—it was freedom. Being with Ahri wasn’t about guilt or regret. It was about the thrill of defiance, the joy of stepping beyond the lines and indulging in the part of himself he’d never fully let go.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mingi suggested, his voice low, laced with an eagerness that hinted at the thrill of escaping somewhere no one could find them.

The steady hum of the engine filled the silence between them as Mingi guided the car along the winding roads leading out of the city. The quiet hum of the engine settled between them, and Mingi’s grip on the wheel tightened as he let the night swallow them whole.

His gaze flickered to Ahri, watching the way she leaned back, eyes half-closed, utterly carefree. She was always like this with him—at ease, undemanding, dangerous in all the ways that made him forget everything else. With her, he could let go of every responsibility, every burden weighing him down.

The soft, velvety vocals of jazz singer Kim Taehyung drifted through the radio, wrapping around the pair in a warm embrace. For a fleeting second, Mingi allowed himself to sink into the fantasy. Here, with her beside him, the world outside felt like a distant dream, nothing more than whispers beyond the car windows.

But dreams eventually come to an end.

Out of nowhere, a pair of blinding headlights burst through the night, a harsh, unforgiving brightness that tore through the calm. Mingi’s eyes widened, but the oncoming vehicle was so close, so sudden, that there was barely a second to react. His hands jerked on the wheel, trying to swerve, but the road was narrow, and there was nowhere to go.

In an instant, everything blurred into chaos. The impact hit them head-on, a deafening crunch of metal against metal, a violent jolt that rattled through the car as it skidded off the road. Mingi’s head slammed back against the seat, his vision blurring as the car spun, skidding to a brutal stop against the guardrail. The world seemed to fall silent in the aftermath, a surreal quiet settling over them.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint wail of sirens approaching, growing louder with every passing second. As the darkness closed in, Mingi felt the weight of it all—the choices he’d made, the life he’d led, and the person waiting for him at home—weighing down on him, filling him with a regret he could no longer ignore.

⋆

It was after midnight when the phone rang, the sudden sound breaking the uneasy stillness of the penthouse. In your sleepy stupor, you hesitated for a moment before reaching for it, your heart pounding in your chest. A vague sense of dread built as you picked up the receiver upon seeing your mother-in-law’s contact photo.

“Y/N! Oh, thank goodness! Mingi—he’s in the hospital! He was in a terrible accident and is in critical condition. Your father-in-law and I are on our way now!”

Mingi. Critical condition. Hospital. The world seemed to tilt on its side, and you felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, barely able to get the words out as you clutched the phone, your knuckles white. “How… how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. They… they’re not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

In that instant, any resentment or past grievances faded into the background. You couldn’t deny the strange ache settling in your chest as you thought of Mingi lying in that hospital bed, perhaps alone, facing something he could not fight or push away.

You didn’t remember much of the drive to the hospital. The city lights blurred past you as you sped through the streets, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every other thought. All you could focus on was getting to him.

When you finally reached the emergency wing, the harsh, fluorescent lights made you feel even more out of place. You spotted his family first—his mother and father huddled together on the worn hospital chairs.

Mrs. Song was barely holding it together, face streaked with tears as she leaned against her husband, clutching his hand so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs that she tried to stifle, but each gasp tore through the silence, raw and full of anguish.

It was odd, seeing her show so much emotion for her son when, for so many years, her presence in his life had been so distant. There was no trace of the stoic woman who had always seemed to keep the world at arm's length. Here in the unforgiving lights of the hospital, she looked like any mother, grieving, terrified of losing her son.

Your own parents were there too, solemn and tense as they stood a little to the side, offering whatever silent support they could.

When your mother noticed you, her gaze softened, and she reached out, wrapping you in a brief, tight hug. Yet even in her embrace, there was a certain restraint, like she wasn’t sure how to give more, wasn’t sure how to bridge the space between you in a way that felt natural.

But then you turned, and that’s when you saw him.

Through the window of the ICU room, Mingi lay on the hospital bed, looking nothing like the man you knew. He was pale, his face bruised and battered, his body still and weak beneath the sheets. Tubes and wires connected him to a series of machines, each beeping and whirring to keep him alive, monitoring his vitals after hours of surgery to stop the relentless bleeding.

It was a jarring sight, seeing someone usually so full of life, even if that life had often been directed at you in anger. Now he seemed so small, vulnerable, a shadow of the man who had once looked at you with such disdain.

Despite all the bitterness, you couldn’t deny the weight settling heavily in your chest as you found yourself wishing he would open his eyes, even if it meant another one of his sharp, dismissive looks.

“H-Hey.”

You whipped around to find Yunho. His shoulders were slouched, exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes, and worry etched into his expression. He offered you a small, tired smile, a weak attempt at reassurance that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” you murmured, tearing your eyes away from Mingi.

The silence between you and Yunho was thick with unspoken concerns, a tension that felt almost palpable.

“I know things between you two have never been easy,” Yunho murmured, his voice low and hesitant. He avoided your gaze, eyes lingering on Mingi through the glass. His tone was careful, a mix of sympathy and regret.

“I’m sorry that he’s been awful to you. My sister, too.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. For so long, the hostility from both Mingi and Ahri had been an almost constant presence in your life, a simmering resentment that had shaped almost every single facet of your relationship with your husband.

But hearing Yunho acknowledge it so openly was…strange. Disarming, even. You weren’t used to someone seeing it, let alone speaking about it without any pretense or defensiveness. In his soft, understanding tone, you could sense not just sympathy, but regret.

“How’s Ahri?” you finally asked.

“She’s pretty banged up,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion evident.

“But doctors say she’s expected to leave here in a few days. Nothing too serious, thankfully.” He hesitated, his eyes drifting back to Mingi.

“But Mingi is still pretty touch-and-go.”

You could hear it in Yunho’s voice—the worry, the fear that his best friend might not make it. It was a stark reminder of just how fragile life was, how quickly things could change in the span of a heartbeat.

“He’s got so much fight in him,” you acknowledged softly, as if you were trying to convince yourself.

“If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. He just… he has to.”

Mingi’s presence, for all the ways it had complicated your life, was something you weren’t ready to lose. The ache in your chest betrayed the truth: you wanted him to fight, to come back, to have the chance to be more than the sum of his anger and bitterness.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” A voice cut through the silence, clear and sharp.

Mingi’s eyes fluttered open to an otherworldly darkness, pierced only by the eerie glow of dim, floating lanterns. He felt weightless, almost translucent, his last memory fragmented—the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, the sound of metal twisting. He tried to move, but his limbs felt disconnected from him, as if he were less a person and more a shadow drifting in an endless void.

“Where… where am I?” he whispered, his voice echoing through the vast emptiness.

A figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a calm, almost unsettling smile. Dressed in flowing black robes, the man stood before him, his gaze sharp and cat-like.

“My courtroom,” the man replied, his voice smooth but cold. “People know me as The Judge, but you can call me Wooyoung.”

His eyes gleamed as he looked down at Mingi, as if he could see every mistake, every regret, every flaw carved into his very soul.

“I’m…I’m dead?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, assessing Mingi as if he were little more than a curious object.

“Not necessarily,” he replied, a slight, detached smile curving his lips.

“At least, not until you plead your case.”

A chill ran through Mingi, spreading from the base of his spine up to his shoulders. He was no longer in the realm of the living, yet neither was he truly dead. This wasn’t a dream, nor was it a fleeting punishment.

This was judgment.

“It seems you have unfinished business,” Wooyoung continued, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather.

“Regrets. Mistakes. Wrongdoings that tether you to the life you left behind. And now, you will face them.”

“W-What…” Mingi stammered, struggling to find words, every attempt at forming a coherent thought falling apart under the man’s unrelenting stare.

“What… unfinished business?”

Wooyoung’s expression twisted, a mix of disbelief and disdain crossing his face as he raised a brow.

“Really?” he said, his tone heavy with incredulity. He let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if Mingi’s question had been the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in centuries.

Wooyoung’s eyes gleamed as he summoned a scroll into his hand, the parchment unfurling with a dramatic flourish and rolling all the way down to the ground. An endless list of Mingi’s transgressions and misdeeds spilled forth, each offense scrawled in elaborate detail, stretching on as if it would never end.

“Selfish. Petulant. You’re the kind of person who only considers what you want, regardless of who gets hurt.” His voice grew sharper, each word landing like a blow.

“You cheated on your wife without a second thought, treating her like she was nothing more than an inconvenience in your life. And let’s not forget—” he tilted his head, a dark gleam in his eyes, “bullying other kids in middle school.”

Mingi felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut, dredging up memories he had buried long ago, things he’d justified or ignored. He shifted uncomfortably, every accusation pulling him deeper into his own shame.

“That… that was so long ago,” he whispered, barely audible. “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

“Ah, so ignorance is your excuse?” Wooyoung’s tone was icy, unimpressed.

Mingi swallowed, his mind flashing through a thousand faces, fragments of past encounters that blurred together but still left an unsettling weight in his chest. All the people he’d dismissed, manipulated, pushed aside. The friends he’d neglected, the promises he’d broken, and, above all, the way he had carelessly stomped on the one person who had also been innocent in this situation–you.

“So how do I fix it? I—I don’t want to die. Please,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at the man with pleading eyes.

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t soften, but there was a pause—a brief, quiet stillness that felt like a moment of reckoning. He tilted his head, studying Mingi as if weighing the depths of his fear, his regret, his desperation.

"Is that it, then? Now that you’re here, now that death is staring you in the face, now you want redemption? Not when you had the power to make different choices, not when the people who cared about you needed you to be better?”

Mingi swallowed hard, feeling the weight of each accusation sink into him. He could barely meet the man’s gaze, shame twisting in his stomach.

“I made mistakes. I didn’t think…I thought I’d always have time to change, to make things right. But I can’t…I can’t end like this.” His voice broke, and he felt the desperation bubbling up, raw and unfiltered.

“I’m begging you. Give me a chance. I’ll do anything.”

Wooyoung watched him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he took a step closer, his dark robes fluttering against the ground.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Mingi whispered. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “If you want to escape this fate, then you’ll have to complete three tasks within three months.”

Mingi’s heart pounded in his chest, but he nodded, his eyes shining with desperate determination.

“I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

With a single snap, Mingi felt his body contort, an overwhelming, suffocating pressure enveloping him. His form began to shrink and his vision blurred. A high-pitched yelp escaped his throat as he realized he was no longer human.

He was small, helpless, wrapped in fur with tiny paws trembling beneath him. He had been transformed into a puppy, looking up at the man from the ground, his new form shivering in fear and confusion.

“You’re much cuter when you’re not hurling insults at people and lying through your teeth,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out to poke Mingi’s snout.

Indignation boiled in Mingi’s tiny chest, but he was powerless to do anything but stand there, his fur puffed out as he tried to look fierce while Wooyoung continued to pet him.

“First,” Wooyoung began, “you’re going to learn what it means to be vulnerable. Focus on letting go of control completely, and start with small acts. ”

“For your second task,” he continued, “you’re going to help someone who’s hurt or lost. You have to figure out how to comfort them. You’ll need to offer genuine support, not just do what’s easiest for you.”

Mingi whimpered, his tiny body shivering, but Wooyoung didn’t give him a chance to protest.

“And finally,” Wooyoung said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ll help someone find happiness. You’re going to show them kindness and bring them joy, with no expectation of getting anything in return. For someone as self-centered as you, that’ll be your most difficult challenge of all.”

With that, Wooyoung straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Simple enough for you, little guy?” he chuckled, scratching behind Mingi’s soft, floppy ear.

“Complete these tasks, and you can have your life back. It’s not so hard, right?”

Mingi looked up, wide-eyed and uncertain in his new, pint-sized form. The world felt so large and overwhelming now, every shadow looming like a mountain, every distant sound magnified. His tiny paws shuffled nervously, a soft whimper escaping him.

“But, hey, if you can’t handle it and end up staying here, at least you’ll be the cutest little thing in the afterlife. You’re so small, I could just carry you around in my pocket!”

Mingi huffed, his tail puffing up in what he hoped was indignation. The thought was absurd! He couldn't decide whether to feel insulted or embarrassed, but Wooyoung’s warm smile and the affectionate scritch behind his ear made it hard to stay mad.

⋆

You sighed and sat down on a bench, the quiet stillness of the early morning hours settling around you. Mingi’s mother hadn’t let you leave, insisting that you stay for any updates on his condition. It was easier to wait outside, where the air felt fresher and the weight of worry wasn’t as suffocating.

Two years. Had it really been two years? You leaned back against the bench, staring up at the faint dawn light peeking through the trees. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. Mingi’s bitterness had been a slow, creeping poison. He blamed you for the engagement, even though it was hardly your choice, and his resentment seeped into every corner of your life.

Every conversation was strained, every look filled with contempt, and yet here you were, waiting outside a hospital, a dutiful spouse in name alone.

The weight of your commitment felt heavier now that he was teetering on the edge of life and death. The responsibilities and promises you had made to each other took on a new, almost suffocating significance. It wasn't just about keeping up appearances anymore—it was about being there, truly being there, when it mattered most.

You sighed, the sound mingling with the faint rustling from the bushes nearby, pulling you momentarily from your reverie.

From the corner of your eye, a small white puppy emerged, its fur dirty and matted with leaves. The tiny creature padded forward, nose twitching as it sniffed the air and hesitated as it spotted you. Something about its curiosity struck a chord in you, melting the heaviness in your chest just a little.

“Puppy!” you gasped, crouching down and holding out your hand.

Mingi’s ears perked up at your voice, and he took a tentative step forward.

You appeared more exhausted than usual, the shadows under your eyes more pronounced, and a weariness etched into your features that he hadn't noticed previously. There was a fragility about you that tugged at something deep within him, a vulnerability you rarely allowed to show.

But the way you whispered, with that soft, delighted tone and the way your face lit up when you saw him—it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Without thinking, his little tail started wagging, betraying him completely. He could feel his new puppy body responding instinctively, unable to stop the joyful swishing, even though part of him knew how ridiculous he must look.

“Why are you by yourself?” you asked, wiggling your fingers in front of him.

Mingi watched, trying to resist the urge to play, but then—damn it—he couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he’d pounced forward, his tiny paws reaching for your hand, teeth closing softly around your fingers in a playful nibble.

No, stop it, Mingi! He cursed, attempting to restrain himself from giving into his instincts. But he couldn’t. The look on your face, the warmth in your eyes, was worth the humiliation of his tiny, floppy form and the impulse to play like he actually enjoyed it.

He flopped onto his back, revealing his soft, fluffy belly, earning an immediate squeal of joy. The sight of his tiny paws tucked adorably close to his chest and his big puppy eyes was simply too much.

The sheer cuteness of the puppy version of him was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but scratch his belly. His hind leg kicked instinctively, a sign of his enjoyment.

Mingi let out a soft, high-pitched whimper, as you scooped him into your arms. This is…nice? And when your hand ran gently down his back, he melted further, his tiny body going limp as he nuzzled into your chest. His heart thrummed with a fluttering feeling he didn’t recognize.

Why does this actually feel good?

You didn’t have that look of quiet disappointment that had seemed to settle on your face since the day you both said, “I do.”

You just looked…happy.

For the first time, Mingi realized how little he’d truly known you. It hurt to realize that a tiny puppy—his current form—could make you feel more affection than he ever had when he was human. He hadn’t given you any reason to smile at him like this; he hadn’t even tried.

“I guess the universe is exchanging my husband for you, huh?” you mumbled, stroking his tiny head with your thumb.

Mingi bristled internally. How rude! He was irreplaceable. You couldn’t simply replace him with a puppy!

You stood up, carefully bundling him against your chest to shield him from the chill of dawn.

He wondered if he would ever feel this again once he returned to his original self, or if he would only carry the ache of what he could have had—if he’d been a different person, if he’d ever let you in.

ii >>

a/n: I have a taglist signup to keep things organized! feel free to fill it out for any fics that I'm currently working on! also this first chapter will be the longest and future chapters will be shorter

#song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #arranged marriage au #ateez #mingi x you #ateez fic #mingi angst #ateez angst #enemies to lovers #strangers to lovers

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kuroosamuu · 17 hours ago

Text

megumi x reader | warnings: making out | wc: 687

—

you and megumi decided to keep your relationship a secret. for reasons quite obvious to the two of you, for the current predicament you find yourselves in being one of the main ones.

with the two to of you both being students at jujutsu high, you're with each other more often than not. because of this, you two try to keep your feelings for each other at a minimum and keep anything away to the nosy people around you who would love to tease you about your relationship.

and megumi feels strongly about preventing that from ever happening.

well, that didn't last that long.

It was currently 1am, everyone was sleeping, and you were on your way to megumi's room.

you two did this often, finding the only moment of privacy with one another being in the middle of the night, where no one could interrupt the time you spend together. this was your time to be able to talk to him freely, without worrying about someone else interrupting your conversation or saying something about you two being a bit too close.

so, when you arrive and softly knocked on the door, you felt the relief you always feel when he opens the door, and allow yourself to throw your arms around him.

"missed you."

"you saw me today."

you pull away, pouting at him, "you know what I mean."

"I know, missed you too," he leans down and gives you a quick peck, before you two make your way to his bed to cuddle.

a daily routine at this point.

you lay with your head on his chest, his arm secured around you as you two talk mindlessly about anything and everything.

you end up perching your chin on his chest to look up at him, and before you know it, you lips are on his.

It starts off slow, gentle even, like every other kiss you two share. soon, you place your palm on his chest for leverage as you lift yourself up more in order to deepen the kiss.

megumi sits up slightly, bringing his back to rest on the headboard behind him as your lips move in sync, slowly deepening with each kiss.

you allow your hand that was previously situated on his chest to wander up and over his shoulder, as he takes one hand and place it on your waist.

he brings his other hand to the other side of your waist and moves you to straddle his lap properly now.

the kiss deepens in his new position, allowing yourself to hook your arms around his neck, while his one hand stays on your waist, the other slowly moving up and down your back.

all that is consuming your mind and body is megumi and you don't think of anything else, mind completely taken over by the feeling of his lips against yours.

and he is in the exact same way, hence the reason neither of you heard the door to megumi's room creak open.

and you didn't stop until you hear the crash of something hitting the floor.

you gasp as you part from megumi, throwing yourself off of him as fast as humanly possible and creating as much distance between you two as you could on his small bed.

you turn to look at the source of the sound to see yuji standing at megumi's doorway, whatever in his hand now on the floor, along with his jaw wide open.

the awkward silence between you three lasts for what feels like forever, before megumi finally speaks up.

"don't you know how to knock? what are you doing here."

"I did knock! you didn't reply so I just let myself in..." yuji replies looking between you and megumi, "maybe I shouldn't have..."

"It's not what it looks like," you try to explain weakly.

"I'll just leave you two alone."

yuji runs out of the room, and you look at megumi, the two of you knowing you're going to hear an earful tomorrow from both nobara and gojo, who yuji is definitely telling right now.

so much for keeping your relationship a secret.

—

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi imagine #jjk imagines

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bookwormjust · 13 hours ago

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Insufferable duo (established relationship with Azriel, an afternoon with the IC, pairing together to tease Cassian)

The afternoon sunlight poured through the large windows of the House of Wind, casting a golden glow over the room as the Inner Circle gathered for a rare, peaceful moment together. It had been a long time since everyone could relax like this—no crises, no wars, no missions. Just laughter, conversation, and a chance to unwind. You were curled up beside Azriel on one of the plush couches, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, while Feyre, Rhysand, and Mor were scattered around the room, chatting easily.

And then there was Cassian. Loud, larger-than-life, and completely unsuspecting.

It had started innocently enough. Cassian had been boasting—again—about his latest training victory over a group of younger Illyrians, recounting the way he’d completely demolished them in a sparring match. He puffed out his chest, grinning like a fool, while Azriel sat quietly beside you, his lips twitching with barely-contained amusement.

You nudged Azriel’s leg with your knee, giving him a mischievous look that he immediately mirrored. There was a certain kind of unspoken language between the two of you, a silent understanding that could only come from years of knowing each other’s rhythms and moods. And right now? You were both thinking the same thing.

Cassian was way too easy to mess with.

“So, Cassian,” you started innocently, leaning forward in your seat. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling us you took down all the Illyrians—by yourself? Without any help?”

Cassian grinned wider, his wings giving a little satisfied twitch. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. They didn’t stand a chance.”

You shot Azriel a quick look, and he smirked, already catching on to where this was going. “That’s funny,” Azriel drawled, his voice calm but laced with mock seriousness. “Because if I recall, didn’t you trip over your own feet during the last training session? Ended up face-first in the mud.”

Cassian shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. “That was one time.”

“One time?” you chimed in, feigning surprise. “Because I could have sworn I saw you do it twice. Wasn’t it twice, Az?”

Azriel nodded solemnly, playing along. “Definitely twice.”

Cassian crossed his arms, his lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh. “I didn’t trip. The ground was uneven.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure it was.”

At that, Rhysand chimed in from across the room, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. “I think I remember seeing that too. Wasn’t there a really big splash when he fell? Feyre, do you remember?”

Feyre bit her lip to keep from laughing, nodding in agreement. “There was definitely a splash.”

Cassian threw up his hands. “Alright, alright! I didn’t trip—okay, maybe I did, but it was a fluke. That doesn’t change the fact that I still wiped the floor with those Illyrians. Which is more than I can say for Az over there, hiding in the shadows as usual.”

Azriel just gave Cassian a slow, dangerous smile—the kind that always sent a chill down your spine, but you knew this one was purely playful. “Hiding in the shadows gets the job done,” he said smoothly. “I don’t need to throw myself face-first into the dirt to prove anything.”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up, leaning into Azriel’s side. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Az never ends up face-down in the mud. Unlike someone.”

Cassian groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. “You two are insufferable.”

You and Azriel exchanged a glance, both of you biting back grins. That one word—insufferable—was the green light for both of you to push it just a little further. With Cassian, that was always the fun part.

“Insufferable?” you repeated, feigning offense as you placed a hand over your heart. “Cass, I’m hurt. We’re just pointing out some... facts.”

Azriel leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “He’s really making this too easy.”

You stifled a giggle, leaning into the warmth of his body. “I know. It’s like he wants us to mess with him.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes, sensing the conspiracy between you two. “What are you whispering about? Don’t think I can’t hear you.”

Azriel shrugged, completely unfazed. “Just discussing how it’s a miracle you can still call yourself a General Commander, considering how often you manage to embarrass yourself in front of all the Illyrians.”

Cassian let out an exaggerated huff, standing up from the couch and dramatically stretching his wings. “You know what? I don’t have to sit here and take this abuse. I’m leaving.” He pointed at you and Azriel, trying to hold onto his glare but failing miserably as the corners of his mouth twitched. “You two are worse together than a pair of drunk faelings. I’m going to find someone who appreciates me.”

You leaned back into Azriel’s chest, wrapping your arms around your knees as you grinned up at Cassian. “Good luck with that.”

Cassian was halfway to the door when Mor chimed in from across the room, her voice sweet and innocent. “Cassian, don’t forget to watch your step. We wouldn’t want you to trip again.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore—you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as Cassian turned, a deeply betrayed look on his face. "YOU TOO, Mor?!”

She just winked at him, clearly loving every second of it.

Cassian shook his head, dramatically sighing as he looked between you and Azriel. “I hope you two are proud of yourselves,” he said, backing toward the door. “You’re absolute menaces.”

Azriel didn’t even bother hiding his smile as he squeezed your shoulder, his voice laced with dry amusement. “We are.”

Cassian groaned again, turning to leave, but before he could exit, Azriel called out in a mock-serious tone, “Careful on those steps outside, Cassian. Wouldn’t want you to take another tumble.”

The entire room erupted in laughter, and Cassian’s voice came faintly from the hallway as he shouted, “I hate you all!”

You turned to Azriel, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “We really are insufferable.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, his smile tugging at his lips as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But only with you.”

You sighed happily, snuggling deeper into his side. “Lucky for you, I love it.”

“Lucky for me,” Azriel murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I love it too.”

And so the teasing, the laughter, and the warmth of the afternoon continued, the bond between you and Azriel only deepening as you basked in the shared joy of simply being together—with the added bonus of getting to torment Cassian along the way.

#acotar x reader #acotar reader imagine #acotar #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

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skzdarlings · 23 hours ago

Text

content info: the much requested follow-up. the dynamic is the same as earlier. they've been sleeping together for a week so assume safe sex is handled if not mentioned. making love, light dirty talk, nervous but excited reader. explicit sexual content. word count: 2000 words.

enjoy <3

Minho crosses the finish line seconds before you.

He emerges from his vehicle without much pomp. His expression is stoic as ever, only the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He draws a leather jacket over his shoulders as his little entourage congratulates him, jumping up and down like the over-hyper groupies they are.

You sit in your car, tightly gripping your steering wheel. You are still hot from the thunder of the race, heart still pounding with adrenaline, and a new sensation throbbing under your skin.

The crowd believes this is about money and status. In the week since your quasi-truce, that is all you have bet out loud. Between you, the stakes are very different.

If you win, we fuck, Minho said that night. And if I win, we make love. Is that correct?

You told him there was no difference, then he put you on your knees and made you admit otherwise.

You tied that first race and he conceded to your whim. You have won every race since and not because he let you. After all, he freely admitted you were the better racer. This isn’t about that anymore.

You look out your window. He is surrounded by people but looking at you, that smirk strengthening when he meets your gaze. You feel a punch of heat that has nothing to do with car engines, a skip of the heart that has nothing to do with racing.

You get out of your car. Minho says nothing, simply holds out his hand for the cash winnings. You put the money in his hands.

You refuse to look at him. You are not scared you will accidentally reveal the truth to the crowd. You’re not even scared you will reveal the true depth of your feelings to him.

You are scared that looking in his eyes will force you to see the truth – that you want this, want him, in this way and so much more.

“Until the next race,” he says, winking and clicking his tongue.

Ugh. You want to claw him to pieces – preferably up and down his backside as he fucks you.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? He isn’t going to fuck you tonight. He isn’t going to bend you over the hood of his car or put you on your knees and yank your hair while fucking your mouth. He isn’t going to keep his hand between your thighs until you’re sobbing and begging for reprieve and he isn’t going to tear through your clothes and mark your skin with his teeth.

What are we doing? he asked that first night. His fingers were on your tongue and his eyes were on you. He looked at you like you were the only prize that ever meant anything to him.

Making love, you said.

The words were unfamiliar, not suited to your fast lifestyle.

The words somehow came naturally with him.

When the night draws to a natural close, he approaches where you are leaning against your car. Your arms are crossed defensively over your chest and his hands are in his pockets. His canter is nonchalant, his smirk subtle, but his eyes intense.

“Your place?” you ask. You are desperate to speak first, as if that might hide your nerves – more importantly, that it might hide your excitement.

“Mmm, no,” he says, crinkling his nose. He tips his head and that smirk gets even meaner. “Your place. You drive. I’ll follow.”

He walks to his car before you can retort.

The last two nights, you went back to his apartment, and that already felt like a major concession on your part. Backseats and the night sky is more your style. You like liminal, empty spaces, a no-man’s-land, a place that can easily be left behind. Agreeing to go to his place was daunting. Even before he laid you out and made you come an easy dozen times, you knew it would feel different, feel more.

Now you are going to your home. There will truly be no escaping him.

It is terrifying how much you don’t want to race away.

You pull up outside the apartment building. He follows you inside, hands in his pockets, still so casual. You stand on opposite sides of the elevator, staring at each other in the silence as the floors tick and tick one by one, higher and higher.

The elevator doors open and he smiles. You are out of smart remarks.

You walk quickly but he keeps pace behind you. He is the only one who could ever keep up with you.

When he brought you back to his place, he wasted no time. He pressed you against the door and tore through buttons, working you up right there in the hall. It was fast and dirty, just like always.

He keeps his hands in his pockets tonight. You can feel him looking at you, his eyes burning on your backside while you fumble uncharacteristically with your key. �� It would be easier if he just shoved his way inside and took what he wanted and left again.

But that’s the other thing – he doesn’t want fast, does he? He’s a good man, much to your chagrin, and he has been happy to let you take the lead, to do what makes you more comfortable. But he wants this, every breath loud between you, every heartbeat counted in the long moments, aching with anticipation.

It feels like forever before you get your door open. The apartment is small, a bathroom on the immediate left, a little kitchen ahead of that, then the main studio. You don’t spend much time in here, really just for sleeping, so the walls are landlord special white and the bed is plain and neat. Everything is functional and necessary. You are not one for indulgence. You are always racing onto the next thing.

“Well,” you say, flipping on the light. “This is me.”

He turns off the light. The windows are tall and there is plenty of moonlight but it still startles you.

He touches your waist and you lose your breath. How is that even possible? You have raced and run and dashed headlong through faster fucking and it never winded you. Now, he holds your waist, pulls you back against him, fits his whole body behind yours, and you can hardly breathe.

“Easy,” he says. His other hand comes around you, cups your throat lightly. It is not mean, not nasty, not hard choking or demanding dominance. It’s soft, just a quiet request.

Your body answers, softening against him. You whisper his name.

He kisses your exposed neck. It’s a soft press of his lips, over and over, and it leaves you shuddering.

“Is this it?” you say, aiming for snark but landing shakily. “Making love is just slower fucking?”

“It can be,” Minho says, his voice unexpectedly gentle and light. “It can be like this—” He bites your neck but it feels different than usual, not mean for the sake of it, but like a claiming. You feel yourself get tight, every muscle clenching, a gasp bursting out of you. “If that’s what you like,” he finishes, punctuating with an amused little giggle like the menace he is.

“And if…” You take a breath. “If I don’t know what I like?”

He pauses. His hands fall away. You hear the shuffle of leather as his jacket hits the floor. Then his hands are back on your waist and he turns you around.

You have seen a range of expressions from this man. You know his exasperation, his anger, his sarcasm, his laughter. The look he gives you now is devastatingly tender, even with a sparkle in his eye that is so distinctly Lee Minho.

He flicks his thumb over his bottom lip and winks.

“Then we better find out,” he says.

At first, it’s not so different. Minho kisses you breathless and strips you slowly. You stumble to the bed and sprawl across the sheets, on your back, holding his face as he makes his way down your body.

He is not slow here, no doubt feeling the tension in your thighs as he puts them over his shoulders. You are keyed up and ready, desperately bucking towards his mouth. He is thorough, finding a circling rhythm with his tongue that never speeds or slows.

You are careening over the edge of climax in a matter of moments. It is almost embarrassingly fast, but he never gloats or teases, at least not about this. It just makes him moan into the skin of your thighs, his wet mouth moving across your skin. He climbs up your body and kisses every inch of you on the way.

Now, now, it’s all different. Now his eyes are dark and intense, staring down at you while he gets his jeans off. You touch his bare chest, feeling more exposed when he stares into your eyes than when he looks at your body.

You close your eyes, instinctively squirming when he pulls your leg around his hips.

“No, no, no escaping,” he says, pinning you in place, not just with his hands but with a push of his hips.

Hip to hip, his cock nestled inside your pussy, you are aching for him to move or come or do something. He just looks at you, kisses you a few times, and lets the reality of every inch of him settle inside your mind as much as your body.

“Minho,” you say, in a whimpering voice you hardly recognize as yourself. “Please.”

“Tell me,” he says, finally, slowly rolling his hips against yours. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good. Good.”

“Just good?” he asks, those rolling thrusts a little sharper, his skin against yours, chests touching, mouths close. “Tell me you love it,” he says. “Tell me you need it.”

“I need it,” you say. “I love – I love it.”

You almost say I love you, which is insane and impossible. You obviously don’t love him. You definitely don’t hate him anymore, but love is a foreign word.

You start to understand it, just a little, with your legs around his waist and his whole body snug against yours. He feels deeper than usual somehow, or maybe you just feel it more, as he takes his time, as he drags his cock slowly in and out of your throbbing wet heat.

“That’s it,” he says, so infuriatingly precise with his hip movements.

No matter how extreme fucking got, you always kept your wits, perpetually armed even then. Now, you feel like all your usual weapons have disintegrated. You are vulnerable and open and you just want more, especially when he sighs so sweetly, especially when he moans into your skin, when he is as uncharacteristically soft and loving as you are.

Of course he is. Your depths run as deep as your hearts run fast.

“You’re going to come,” he says, holding your gaze, his hand between your bodies. “Baby,” he says, voice breaking with his own need.

It makes you gasp, squeezing him, your hands pressing into his shoulders as he makes you see stars.

“Yes, yes, baby,” he says. “Get so tight for me when you’re so sweet. Come for me. You want it. You love it. You need it. Show me.”

You do, clinging to him when you come, calling out his name. It seems to last longer than usual, one crest rolling into the next, extended by the relentless rocking of his hips. He chases his own pleasure inside you, looking at you then kissing you. He comes with his mouth on yours, tongues touching, wet and messy and hot.

After, he lays on top of you, both of you catching your breath. You run your fingers through his hair without thinking. You are about to stop when his whole body seems to get soft, a breath leaving his lips, his head pillowed on your chest.

“Not bad,” you eventually say.

He laughs, lifting his head to look down at you. You can’t help but smile back, though you also force an eye-roll because that’s just how you are.

Then he kisses you, soft, taking his time, like he has nowhere else to be tonight, like he intends on staying forever.

You surprise you both by kissing back as softly.

You don’t know about forever, not yet, but you want him to stay right now.

You roll over together, kissing and tangled up, hearts pounding against each other, and ready for another race to the next adventure.

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Sure, you are a little insufferable.

But Lee Minho is worse.

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally. Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night.

You were content until this fucker came along. Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals. Ugh. You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you. The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women. You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.

He arrives with his usual entourage. A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle. He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches. He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance. His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say. “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer. He laughs sarcastically.

“Not worth the mileage,” he says. He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim. “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.” He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him.

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot. Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too. It was inevitable. You were hostile when first meeting. You challenged him to a few too many personal races. You were a sore loser and even worse winner. What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry.

You won the last couple races. You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again.

“Sure,” you say. “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.”

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back.

You decide to keep your distance tonight. If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm. So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings.

But, ugh.

He is right there.

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air. When you are looking at him, he captivates you. When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again. You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters.

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy. Not a single race has satisfied you. You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough. It is never enough. You already know how good you are. You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded.

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho. The only victory that matters is that one.

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him. He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming. He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away.

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face. When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation. He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car. He shakes his head as you stomp up to him.

“One race,” you say.

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.” He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” you say.

You heart is racing. Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night. Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs. Stupid hottie. You will have him and his attention. You will get the better of him, one way or another. It was all leading to this.

“One race,” you say. “A bet worth the mileage.”

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply.

Finally, he closes the car door. He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth.

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you. The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body.

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking. Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize.

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue. It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing. You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way. But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings.

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut. No, lower. Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess. Heat that is curious about the look in his eye.

Then you shake your head. You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off. You were in control and now you are flustered.

“Not me,” you snap.

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up. He meets your gaze eventually. Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you.

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality. “I bet my car.”

He blinks at you. Long, slow blinks like a cat. It takes him a second to find a sentence.

“Your car,” he says. He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say. The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth. You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy. You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered. “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides.

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone. It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead. You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other. It is intense and all-consuming.

You hold out a hand. He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says. “Since it’s the truth. You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock. You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind. Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual. He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car.

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention.

The heat rushes back in a hurry. You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs.

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words. You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other. You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed. Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight. You bet your car. What were you thinking?

You weren’t. And it was all his fault.

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him. You smack the steering wheel with frustration.

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline. Thoughts like that are not like you. And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want. Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want. He is always the highlight of your night.

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser.

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car.

He is not gloating because he is not the type. He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you. He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies.

“You got in my head on purpose.”

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist.

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt. “I bet myself.”

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again. Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat.

“You,” he finally says. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?”

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy. It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate.

You cross your arms stubbornly. You look away. You even stomp your foot.

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone. “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer. You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch. Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy. Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite. It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his. You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes.

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says. He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil. “I don’t have to make bets. I make love to people because they want it. Sorry.” He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat. “You can keep your car. I don’t want or need it. Good night.”

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it. He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely.

“Now, now,” he says.

“I’m a big girl,” you snap. “I don’t need you protecting my honour. I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.”

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes. He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says.

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels.

“I heard you,” you say.

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time. You take a step back.

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step. Step by step across the tarmac. The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours.

You find it difficult to catch your breath. Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady. He is intoxicating.

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek. He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer. You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little.

“So,” he says. “If you win, we fuck. And if I win, we make love. Is that correct?”

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say. You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation.

It seemingly works. His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there—” He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder. He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll race.”

Your heart is already revving like an engine. You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly. You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise. It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head. You hold your breath.

“You have to pass my test first,” he says.

“Excuse me!” Your own incredulity resounds. You smack his chest but he does not move.

“It’s just two questions,” he says. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

He is tormenting you. You hate him. You hope he never stops.

“Fine,” you snap. His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation.

“Good,” he says, then stands back.

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness. At least you can catch your breath in the space between you.

Then he says, “Get on your knees.”

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race. There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle. Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road.

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response. You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you.

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth. You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his. His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy. Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows.

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips. Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath.

“Well?” he says.

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.”

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin. “That’s one out of two. How about this one?”

He drops to his knees. You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night. There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets.

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable. Your breath stutters before he even moves. He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch. He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste. Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take.

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second. He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more. Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets.

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers. He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you. You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye.

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.

The suggestion makes you throb. You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright. “Now we can race.”

It is a perfect draw.

You are both distracted. When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind.

Doors slam. You meet in the space between your vehicles.

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative.

He is shrugging out of his jacket. It his the ground. He does not break his stride, already going for his belt. Your knees nearly buckle again.

“Fine,” he replies. “Then get over here. I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.”

Fucking you is exactly what he does. It is not making love. He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra. Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine. You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you.

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood. He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him.

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline. It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you. You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own. He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line.

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss. It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off. He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure. He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.”

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says. “You sounded so good getting fucked. I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that.

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand. He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?”

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archiveikemen · 2 days ago

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"Chaotic Night" Collection Event: Bonus Story

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games.

Read this before interacting

creds. to nagi for sending me the story ♡

Due to the effects of an extract derived from Queen of The Night flowers, the Cursed Ones had a change in appearance.

Amidst all that, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty room.

…

The moment I entered the room, I frantically looked around to see the identity of that person. He was none other than—

Kate: Ring…?

The uncertainty in my voice was because he looked different from usual.

Ring had a pair of animal ears on his head, and a beautiful tail on his bottom.

On top of that, those eyes that were usually calm and the colour of a water’s surface were dyed red.

Ring: Um… sorry for dragging you along without explanation.

Despite the change in eye colour, the intensity of his gaze remained the same.

Under that gaze, even though I wasn’t guilty of anything, I felt flustered.

Ring: But in order to protect, there was no other way.

Kate: To protect…?

Ring: To protect Nica and Dari, I had to take you away.

(... Ah, it's those two from Vogel.)

It was embarrassing that for a moment, I thought he meant that he was trying to protect me.

Ring: It’ll be trouble if something were to happen to you from going near Nica and Dari who are acting weird now.

Kate: “Something”...?

Ring: Y-you want me to say it…!? It’s, you know, that sort of erotic thing…!

(Erotic thing…)

Kate: Uhh… even if you weren't concerned about that, I would never do such a thing to those two, you know?

Kate: Besides, I’m worried about everyone who had their appearances changed, so I want to head back…

Ring: S-stuff like being worried… y-you’re always so casually saying such adorable things…

Ring: It’s just as I thought… even if you don’t have that sort of intention, just being near you is dangerous.

Ring: Doesn't matter how you think. I can't allow you near them.

Kate: But if you do this… won’t you be in danger yourself for being closed in the same room as me?

Ring: That’s not a problem at all.

Kate: … Why so?

Ring: Even if I get seduced by you, I don’t know how to—...

Ring: A-anyway! It just won’t be a problem!

Kate: W-wha…

Ring: Whatever it is, I won’t allow you to appear before Nica and Dari until this whole situation resolves.

Ring: You MUST remain where my eyes can see you. Got it?

While saying that, Ring went to sit in front of the door like he was going to physically block me from leaving the room.

(Looks like it’ll be hard to talk him out of this.)

(But I don't want to sit here idling while Ring keeps an eye on me…)

(What can I do in this situation… oh, right!)

Kate: Ring. If you don't mind, can I examine you?

Ring: Examine me…?

Kate: Roger said that there are still many things unknown about the Queen of The Night flower.

Kate: So I’m thinking that if I examine someone who went through the change, it’ll be helpful for the other Cursed Ones…

Ring: Helpful for Cursed Ones… in that case, being cooperative temporarily shouldn't be a problem… I think.

Ring: … Got it. I don’t mind if it’s myself you’re examining.

Kate: Thank you so much! Can I start with touching the places that changed?

Ring: These ears and tail? Well, those aren’t any weird parts so it should be fine…

Kate: Okay then. Pardon me.

I touched the pair of animal ears on Ring’s head.

Kate: The fur is thin and soft… very much like Ale’s ears. These are dog ears.

Ring: I- I see…

Kate: Can you sense it when I touch them?

Ring: … Yes.

(So they have sensory functions and aren’t purely ornamental. In that case…)

I moved closer to Ring’s dog ears and whispered.

Kate: Can you hear me…?

Ring: Uwagh! D-don’t whisper in my ear all of a sudden…!

Kate: I-I’m sorry! I thought I’d examine if you could hear through them…

Ring: N-no, it'd be fine i-if you told me beforehand… I was just a little surprised…

Ring: Uhh… I could hear your voice through the ears. … You can continue examining.

Seeing how frightened Ring was, I figured that continuing with the examination would cause him distress.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed something shaking.

(... Hm?)

I took a better look at it and saw that Ring’s tail was wagging vigorously.

(Tail wagging is what a dog does when it’s happy, right?)

(Could it be… whispering in Ring’s ear made him happy…?)

Ring: … Robin?

Ring tilted his head and stared at me as I stood there deep in thought. At the same time, his tail kept on wagging non-stop.

(Maybe Ring didn’t notice it himself… I’ll give it another try.)

My initial plan was to do a proper examination, but my curiosity and mischief got the better of me.

Kate: I whispered into your right ear earlier, so I’ll try it on the left ear this time.

Ring: Y-yeah… sure.

I moved to his other side from behind and gently put my lips close to Ring’s left dog ear.

Kate: … Ring.

Ring: UWAH…!

The instant I whispered into it, Ring jumped back in surprise.

Kate: A-are you okay?

Ring: My ears aren’t okay… my dog ears… did they melt?

Kate: Melt…? No, they look the same as before.

(... Only that his tail is now wagging even harder.)

Ring still didn’t notice his tail wagging faster than one’s eyes could catch.

It looked exactly like Ale getting a tasty snack.

Ring: Hearing your voice and feeling your slight breath against my ear… felt like my ear was going to melt off…

Ring’s face was bright red as he covered the dog ears with his palms.

(As I thought, the ears are sensitive… although it's for the purpose of examining this strange phenomenon, I ended up doing something naughty.)

Ring: …

Ring: sigh… you’re sly indeed.

Kate: Huh…?

Ring: It’s unfair that I’m the only one feeling embarrassed here.

Ring: … Can I touch your ears too?

Kate: My ears…?

I was surprised by the unexpected question, and he gently touched my ears with his fingertips.

Kate: …!

Ring: Even your ears… are small and soft… cute…

Kate: I-I don’t think my ears are cute or anything like that…

Ring: That’s what I’d been thinking until now. … But everything about you is cute.

He only touched my ears, but Ring was staring so fervently at me…

I felt loved all over, not just my ears.

(T-this is embarrassing…)

It got too awkward and I tried to avert my gaze, but…

Ring: … What are you looking at apart from me?

Ring: I’m the sole other person here, so you’ll look only at me.

Kate: …

Hearing his plea in that heartrending voice, I could no longer take my eyes off him.

(Besides… his tail was now wagging really hard.)

Kate: U-umm… did you really enjoy it that much?

Ring: … E-e-en-enjoy!?

Kate: You were wagging your tail so much while touching my ears… I’m not sure if you have a thing for ears or…

Ring: I-I don’t especially like ears…

Ring: Or should I say, what was that about my tail—...!?

Ring finally noticed just how hard his tail was wagging.

Ring: Ahh, t-that’s not…! It… it’s just shaking on its own…!

He tightly grabbed the base of the tail in an effort to stop it, but it was fruitless.

Ring: Ggh…! You ARE dangerous after all! This is my own body, and yet it’s not listening to me…!

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Darius’ Voice: Ring, I heard a voice… are you in there? I’m coming in.

Darius: Here you are, Ring. Miss Fairytale Keeper is here too.

Ring: Dari, no! Her eyes are dangerous!

Darius: … What do you mean?

Ring: If you look into them, you’ll get sucked in and your tail will start wagging— whatever, it’s just dangerous!

Darius: I don’t feel anything at all. Aren't you the only one getting spellbound by her, Ring?

Ring: W-what do you mean spellbound…!

Darius: Either way, you shouldn't be alone with her if she makes you feel uneasy…

Darius: Wouldn’t it be better to stay somewhere everyone can keep an eye on her?

Ring: T-that’s…

Darius: … You see, Ring. I’m concerned about you the same way you are about me.

Darius: That’s because we’re family, isn’t it?

Ring: … Yeah.

Darius: Come on, let's go. Nica’s waiting for us.

Ring, who was led out of the room by Darius, looked at me as though he had something to say… but he left without a word in the end.

His tail, which had been wagging energetically just a moment ago, was now hanging limply.

(Like a dog feeling lonely after being separated from its owner…)

(... No, no, no. If I have to put it that way, wouldn't Ring’s owner be Darius?)

(Stuff about feeling lonely after being separated from me… it must be a misunderstanding.)

= Flashback Start =

Darius: Under the effects of the flower, just like on the night of the Queen of The Night flower, our sins are heightened.

Darius: … Ring’s sin is “jealousy”.

Darius: So even if Ring’s words and actions come off as suggestive today… it’s because unlike ordinary people such as yourself, we’re Cursed Ones.

Darius: Don’t get the wrong idea, Miss Fairytale Keeper.

Kate: U-understood…

= Flashback End =

(It was indeed as Darius said. Ring only touched me because of his curse��s sin…)

(But…)

On this night when everything was turned into chaos due to the Queen of The Night flower, my feelings aren't influenced by anything because I’m not cursed.

So that means… my heart racing because of Ring’s honest gaze and his hot fingertips touching my ears— were undeniably real, even on this chaotic night.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikevil translations #otome #ikevil collection event #ring schwartz

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nanamiscocksleeve · 3 days ago

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The Office Pet Part 4

warnings: MDNI, pet play, name-calling, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), women on women This fic does not mean I think Kusakabe would be bad in bed, but there aren't many other men left. NOT PROOFREAD. I may have stolen some concepts from @anonimusunnoaniswriting

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“Kusakabe, why are you taking so long?” Kento gives the brunette man a withering look as he sees your unsatisfied state.

“He’s eating me wrong!” You complain, and Gojo snickers. You had been happy and warm, snuggled with Gojo and Higuruma’s pets when a sudden phone call had all the men gathering in the same room.

“Were you aware he was coming today?”

“No, it was a completely unprompted visit. He said something about a welfare check.”

“On the pets?”

“Yes. I mean it’s a relatively new allowance. Makes sense that he’d want to see if it’s being implemented well.”

Amidst all the chatter, Kento had gently patted your head, trying to rouse you. “My sweet little pet. Can I ask you for a favor?” He pushes back locks of your pretty hair, his heart melting as your eyes turn from the fuzzy haze of sleep into alertness. “I’m sorry to wake you, but our CEO is arriving shortly. He’s bringing his pet as well. We’re worried about Kusakabe. He hasn’t eaten pussy in a long time and if he fails to satisfy the CEO’s pet they might take away the office pet allowance altogether.”

He scoops you up, the flimsy miniskirt of the lingerie you’re wearing draping over Kento’s forearm. “Do you mind letting him practice on you? You smell so delightful little pet.” Kento pressed a kiss to your forehead and you glowed at his affection. Kento had placed you gently on Gojo’s cleared desk and slipped off the lacy panties, exposing your pussy to Kusakabe, who stood looking nervous.

“Geez Atsuya, it doesn’t have teeth,” Higuruma goaded him, and the room erupted into laughter, both men and pets. “Seriously he keeps looking at it like it’s going to bite him. It’s soft, squishy. Now stop acting like we’re throwing you to the wolves. It’s a harmless little pussy, and if you fail in this, the CEO is going to come down hard on you. His pet isn’t something you can leave unfinished.

Atsuya had shakily approached you, and you glance up at Kento who’s hovering by your head, gently massaging your breasts to get your blood humming. Atsuya’s fingers are clumsy as he parts your folds. His warm tongue darts out, but it didn't take long for you to realize he had no idea what he was doing. He kept missing your clit, even though it was right there, peeking out from between your folds, and he failed to listen to your cues, the little happy chirps falling deaf on his ears as he tongue swirled haphazardly over random areas of your core.

Kento picks up on your discomfort immediately. “Atsuya I swear to God if you ruin this for all of us just because you don’t know how to eat pussy-”

“Show me how!” Kusakabe blurts in panic. Gojo and Higuruma sigh and approach the table. Kento spreads your folds and points to the swollen tissue at the top of your mound. “See that? That’s her clit. Maybe try licking that instead of shoving your tongue everywhere else.”

Kento spits on his fingers and brings them to your clit, massaging the nub, drawing an immediate mewl of happiness from you. “See? Her face makes it obvious. You have about 5 minutes to prove you can eat her out correctly or else you’ll have to go home for the day. We’ll make up an excuse to tell the CEO.”

“I don’t know how he missed that,” Gojo says, peeking at your folds. “Her clit is right there.”

“And this is her pussy.” Hiromi gently prods your hole and Kusakabe’s face blushes red.

“I know!”

“Do you?”

“Ok enough! Let him try. We have a very short window to decide if Kusakabe is here or goes home for the day.”

“A little too late for that I’d say.”

Startled, all 4 men look at the door and see their CEO smiling smugly at them, his pet obediently next to him on the floor, wearing a long overcoat to hide the fact that she was only wearing lingerie underneath it. She had wide eyes and her hair was tied back into a ponytail. She was watching the scene with a keen observance, her smirk mirroring her master’s as she looked at Kusakabe.

Suguru removes the leash from her collar and gives her ass a friendly pat. “Go play sweetheart.” She immediately moves forward to the cuddle pile where Gojo and Higuruma’s pets are seated. They waste no time in welcoming her, removing the trenchcoat and revealing lingerie that looked like shibari ropes, with barely any fabric covering her crotch or nipples. She playfully wriggles her ass and the two other pets take the cue, one of them gently spanking her while the other starts to touch her clit. Her noises of pleasure were punctuated with little yelps as she was spanked.

Suguru rolls up the leash and puts it in his coat pocket before entering the office. He appraises you, laid on your back looking flushed and irritable, your pussy on display to the whole room. Kusakabe immediately steps away so that he can get a better look. Suguru’s long hair tickles your abdomen as he leans over to check the little badge on your collar. He hmms as he reads the name and his eyes fixate on Nanami.

“May I?” he asks, but it’s not really a request for permission. Nanami nods.

Suguru’s hot breath ghosts your thighs and you go perfectly still as his thumbs part your folds. Kusakabe’s spit still lingered and the raven-haired man tsks at the sight. “Most of the wetness here isn’t yours, is it pet?” He looks at you, and you hesitate. He cups your face. “I assure you no one will get in trouble.” You shake your head no.

Suguru puts his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. “So sweet. I’d heard rumors about one of the pets smelling like candy down there. I didn’t think it was so accurate.” His tongue swirls around your clit and you let out a moan. He knew exactly what he was doing. Your eyes look up to glance at Kento’s face and he nods encouragingly, stroking your hair. The tip of his tongue gently nudges the little nub, going at it in patient circles, until you feel your core starting to drip again.

Your hand involuntarily tangles into his beautiful hair and he chuckles, the noise muffled against your puffy sex. It might have been out of line, a pet reaching for a master’s hair without permission but Suguru was in a good mood today, so he allowed it. Your reaction to his mouth was all he needed to allow you that indulgence. You whimper, hips arching as his lips seal around your clit and suck, the pressure pushing you to the edge. You cum with a cry, your clit pulsing hotly inside his mouth while your core spasms in tandem.

Suguru pulls away and wipes his mouth. “I hope that suffices as a decent demonstration.” His purple eyes fix on Kusakabe who shrinks. You lie on the table panting and Kento picks you up and places you with your playmates. Suguru’s pet lazily opens her eyes to glance at you, her pussy being serviced attentively by Higuruma’s pet. You’re entranced by the dreamy quality in her gaze and go over for a kiss, which she accepts with a delighted purr.

“Are the pets serving their purpose?” Suguru occupies Gojo’s chair and looks at the men expectantly.

“Indeed sir. They’re the joy of the office.” Satoru is the first to speak.

“I see that their conditions in your office are a little…lackluster though.” Suguru’s eyes take in the plushy futons that have been laid out, not uncomfortable by any means but lacking the finesse he’d been expecting. “Perhaps I can fix that. I’ll give each of you a pet expenditure card for their needs. Start by upgrading their office quarters, but you can also use it for other things; hair, nails, makeup, lingerie, toys. I didn’t push so hard for office pets to have them living in basic conditions.”

The statement was rather mindboggling considering the futons were covered in sheets that had an impossible threadcount, and all the pets wore collars made from either gold or platinum, and had at least one jewel embedded in it that exceeded 10 carats. How much luxury was Suguru’s pet living in that he considered their lives to be basic?

“That’s so kind of you Geto-sama.” Nanami bows. “Truly unexpected.”

Suguru’s eyes fall on his pet who was close to a soft orgasm, her moans muffled by your mouth on hers. She cums with a mewl, her back arching as the pleasure exploded in her, then opens her eyes. Suguru pats his lap and she eagerly crawls over to him, snuggling and allowing him to securely hold on to her using the shibari style lingerie wrapping around her.

“Did you enjoy that?” Suguru pets the woman affectionately under the chin and she melts into his touch. “Do you want something else?” She nods as though she already knew what he had in store for her. “Take it then.”

Suguru continues talk to the men as his pet starts to undo his zipper, pulling out his long cock and turning on her kness so that she’s facing the crowd while he talks. “Office pets are our best resource to prevent burnout and stress.” His voice hitches for a brief second as his pet slowly sinks onto him, then starts to ride him, her tits bouncing.

Kusakabe lets out a muffled cough, trying not to ogle the sight. The 3 other men look unruffled and continue to listen. Suguru’s large hand grabs onto a bunch of the ropes at the back of the woman’s lingerie, allowing her to move at angles that weren’t possible when seated on another’s lap on your knees.

“They provide us with companionship and endless joy and pleasure. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the improvement in the numbers since the office pet allowance was enabled. That speaks volumes.” He glances at his pet who flushed and clearly enjoying herself as she fucks him. “Slow down.” He grips the ropes tighter, controlling how fast she was moving. “You don’t want to overstimulate yourself.”

“But I think they deserve the best of everything. Their devotion is endless after all.” He squeezes one of his pet’s nipples causing her rhythm to falter. Geto lifts her off his cock slightly by the fabric ropes, steadying her, then loosens his hold so that she can push back down.

“I’m also concerned that our newest hire seems to lack the knowledge needed to keep a pet satisfied.” His eyes rove over Kusakabe and the other men turn to glare at him. “Has he really never eaten pussy before?”

“Of course I have!” Kusakabe splutters suddenly. “Sir.” He adds hastily.

“Clearly not with any skill. Nanami’s pet was half dry by the time I got to her.” Silence fills the room, except for the sound of Geto’s pet moaning, her round ass slapping against his thighs each time she moved. “My advice to you Atsuya, is to take your time and learn the material. Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head no. “No wonder. But I suppose that means we won’t have to worry about the office pet allowance being applicable to you yet.” Geto grunts as his pet slams down on him, and before he could get in another word, she lowers herself completely, eyes closed in ecstasy as she takes Suguru’s load into her.

“Well done sweetheart.”Geto pants and strokes her back. He helps her off his lap and sets her down on the floor and she wanders off to rejoin the other women. He quickly produces a handkerchief and wipes himself clean before continuing.

“The rest of you though, I assume you’re keeping your pets satisfied? Giving them high quality meals? Ensuring they get enough water? Regular massages? They use their bodies to please us so the least you can do is make sure they don’t have any aches and pain.”

“Of course Geto-sama,” Higuruma reassures him. “All this is being done.”

“Excellent.” He looks at the pets. His was being cleaned by Gojo’s pet while you had her head in your lap, leisurely stroking her cheeks and pressing kisses to her forehead. Geto observes the smitten way his pet looks at you.

“Come gentlemen. Let’s have lunch.” He tucks his spent cock back into his pants. “I’ll make sure something is sent up for the pets to eat.”

As they walk, Geto lingers behind and catches hold of Nanami. “How do you feel about setting up a private playdate? My pet and yours?”

Kento’s hazel eyes look intrigued. “I would have to ask her, but sure. Any reason, Geto-sama?”

“My pet seems to have taken a liking to her. And whatever my pet wants, she gets.”

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna @sweetskozume @theimmortalbuns @supernaturalbaesduh @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

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mlyscha · 20 hours ago

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SIDEWALK THEORY ✦ P.SUNGHOON

𝓼ynopsis. in which the sidewalk theory is proven to be true by your boyfriend, making your heart flutter. 𝓹airing. p.sunghoon x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rotting fluff. 𝔀arnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language, reader is kind of annoying and amelie is out of creativity tbh ( ;´ - `;). 𝔀𝓬. 93O. 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: remember when i was thanking you guys for the 60+ followers... we are close to hit 100, WHAT?! thank you guys <3 ya'll are truly amazing (,,>﹏<,,) i also wanted to mention that i mainly use british english but i wrote pavement as sidewalk because i like this word better, you can judge me...

sunghoon loves you from the bottom of his heart. he is in fact so deep in love that he recently begun to create possible scenarios that could include you and him in the future ━ such as marriage.

okay, let's just not go that far. i might emphasise that, if you are expecting him to show affection in front of others or constantly do so in a daily basis, your fate is to be frustrated. the thing is that he just doesn't feel like doing it to prove his love for you. still, it's not like he has no necessity to kiss you, or hug you and all. he simply think different than most of people.

one of the things sunghoon figured out since he begun to fall in love with you and date you is that: protecting means loving, safety means forever. with that being said, he mainly prioritise protecting you more than everything; because, safety means forever, right? and he wants you to be his forever because he loves you ━ and loving means protecting.

also, since he was a little boy his mum taught him how to be a gentleman, and you can confirm your mother-in-law did a great job at it. sunghoon is just so polite, respectful, always respecting your boundaries ━ but still acting like that characteristic playfulness of a young boy when he feels acting like it.

talking about his mum's teaching, i might mention one thing that he learned, said his mum back then: "if someone you love is in this part of the sidewalk" she reefers to the part closer to the street. "and you want to keep them safe, make sure to switch places with them ━ just like i am doing with you." little sunghoon checks which part of the pavement he was walking on. "see? you're away from the danger of the streets, you know why?" "because you love me...?" "right! good boy!" ━ sunghoon from the future might not even remember this little lesson his mum taught him a long ago, but it glued to his mind until it became a normal thing to do.

now, dating this amazing man for almost two years, the sidewalk theory became your roman empire. you heard about this theory on tiktok, and from that point, you never felt the same way. i mean, since both of you were just friends he always did that, however, it was never that deep, you know? and since the beginning of your relationship you've never really figured this thing out.

so, nowadays, going out with your boyfriend is something else. sometimes you just want to feel that giddiness one more time, asking for a midnight walk to the convenience store with him, just to see him unconsciously touching your shoulders and gently switching places with you ━ and eat an ice cream. that scenario actually became kind of usual, but never failing to make you feel the same special way.

"hoon...?" you called his name hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his sleepy state since it was late. "baby?"

"mhm..." he groaned.

"can i ask you one thing?"

"mhm,"

"why do you do that?"

"mhm?"

"that, sunghoon, you know what i'm talking about!" you whispered-yelled, looking up to check on him, being met with his closed eyes and frowned brows.

"mhm-hm..." he denied.

"come on... you know? the sidewalk thing?"

"what sidewalk thing?" he spoke with a groggy voice.

"you know, when you switch sides with me..."

"i do it?"

"yeah!" you saw his right eye peaking at you, then closing again.

"mhm," sunghoon took a deep breath before asking: "what about it?"

"why do you do that?"

"i don't know," he shrugged. "may i ask why...?"

"because i like it..." you replied, admitting.

"why?"

"is cute,"

"mhm..." a cheeky grin was held in by him.

"why are you trying to hold that smile, mr. sidewalk?"

"hey!" his cute giggle echoed and that big grin found its way to escape. "don't call me that..."

"huh? want me to call you what then?" you teased, feeling his hold onto your waist gently tighten and his head snuggle onto the crook of your neck. "oh... someone's feeling a little clingy today, mhm?" his touch immediately went away. "noooo~ come back, mr. clingy man!"

"okay, stop this, don't call me those names,"

"i asked you which name would you want me to call you, mr. grumpy man..."

"call me baby, okay?! call me darling, sweetie even cupcake, i don't care," your boyfriend spoke impatiently. "now let me sleep, woman."

"eh? woman?"

"baby... baby, let your boyfriend rest, 'kay?"

"okay, you can sleep..." you squinted your eyes. "call me woman one more time and you'll be called mr. dumped man!"

bonus scene! ★

"[...] and i told her! but then she was like: "i don't know about any of that bullshit", and i was like-"

"yeah, right," casually, sunghoon places his hands on both of your shoulders and move you to the other side of the sidewalk. "...and then?" noticing you subtle silence, he continued, wanting to know about what was going on with your friend.

"um... and i was like..."

"you were like...?"

"you did it again!"

"you told her that?"

"no! you did this again," you looked down at the pavement.

"paid attention? what?" poor sunghoon, got confused about what you meant.

"the sidewalk thing!" you were trying to make him figure out what you were talking about a few days ago.

"oh? did i?" he checked himself, slowly figuring it out.

"yes, you did," you nodded while smiling.

holding a big smile, he scrunched his nose and cleaning his throat. "anyway, tell me what you really told her then, baby."

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buckets-and-trees · 3 days ago

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Red, White & True: Houston [3/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Things are shifting in just the ten days since realigning the campaign strategy to keep you and Steve on the trail together and to sharpen some of the policies and messaging. You're starting to hit a new stride as you make a stop in Houston, and the city also affords you a unique opportunity to meet with a former President and First Lady.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn, brief political discussion of climate change

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

POLITICAL NOTES: It's been a big week with the 2024 election. This story - while a romance - revolves around a presidential campaign, and so there will be political policy incorporated, but I am not inviting political discourse. If you don't agree in regards to anything in the brief section climate change policy, that is okay but I do not want to hear about it.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 17 - Houston]

The Houston heat hits you like a wall as you step off the campaign bus, the air thick and heavy with humidity. You blink against the bright Texas sun, grateful for the large sunglasses shielding your eyes. The crowd gathered outside the community center is already substantial, a sea of red, white, and blue signs waving in the afternoon heat.

Steve steps off the bus behind you, and you feel his presence at your back, solid and reassuring. You turn to him, offering a smile that's part genuine, part for the cameras you know are capturing your every move. He returns it, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back - a gesture that's become second nature for public appearances, yet still sends a confusing whoosh through your stomach each time. But you push through and ignore it as you both wave to the cheering crowd.

"Ready?" he asks, leaning in close enough so you can hear over all the noise.

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

The two of you make your way along the line of the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging greetings as you go. You've gotten better at this part over the months - the constant smiling, the brief but warm interactions, the way to make each person feel seen and heard in just a few seconds. Steve, of course, is a natural at it, his charisma and sincerity shining through with every handshake and small bit of conversation.

As you near the entrance to the community center, you spot a group of young people holding signs about climate change and renewable energy. Your eyes meet Steve's, and you see the same thought reflected there - these are exactly the voters you've been trying to reach.

Without missing a beat, you veer slightly off course, heading towards the group. Steve follows your lead, and you can practically feel the collective intake of breath from your security detail.

"Hi there," you say warmly as you approach. "Thank you, we’re so glad you came out today.”

"Thank you for being here," Steve adds, his voice warm and genuine. "I see you're passionate about climate change. That's something I care deeply about, too."

A young woman with curly hair and bright eyes steps forward. "We appreciate that, but we've heard a lot of politician talk before. What specific actions will you take to address the climate crisis if elected?"

You exchange a quick glance with Steve, impressed by the young woman's directness. This is exactly the kind of engagement you've been hoping for.

"That's an excellent question," you begin, "and I'm glad you're asking it. Steve has developed a comprehensive plan to tackle climate change, including immediate steps he'll take in the first 100 days."

Steve nods, picking up where you left off. "We're committed to a systemic overhaul of energy sources and infrastructure along with transitions and expansion for public transportation. We know that infrastructure is an opportunity - not only to address climate change, but to transform the economy by creating job opportunities as we build and transition away from coal, gas, and oil. It will also address the severe need to update existing power grids that are failing.

"But it's not just about policy and output right now," Steve continues, his voice passionate. "It's about creating a sustainable future for your generation and those that follow instead of just talking about it. But as we talk, we want to work with young leaders like yourselves to make sure your voices are heard in shaping these policies - you’ll be living with them longer than the rest of us."

You watch as the young woman's expression shifts from skepticism to cautious interest. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?" she asks.

"Well, for starters, we're here listening to you right now," you say with a smile. "But Steve plans to create a Youth Climate Council that will have direct input on policy decisions. We want to bring fresh perspectives and innovative ideas to the table."

Steve nods in agreement. "And we're not just talking about advisory roles. We want to create pathways for young people to enter public service and take on leadership positions in environmental agencies."

The group exchanges glances, clearly impressed by the specifics and taking Steve more seriously for not brushing them off or placating them quickly in a picket line.

Steve presses further, "What specific actions do you think are most critical? What solutions have you seen proposed that resonate with you?"

The young woman looks slightly taken aback, clearly not expecting to be asked for her input. But she recovers quickly. "Well, you mentioned it, but we need to transition away from fossil fuels much faster than current plans allow. The movement for offshore wind farms should be accelerated - especially on the East Coast. And we need to protect vulnerable communities who will be hit hardest by climate change."

Steve nods encouragingly. "Those are excellent points. In fact, environmental justice is a key component of our climate plan. We're proposing initiatives to ensure clean air and water in all communities, especially those that have historically borne the brunt of pollution."

Another young man in the group speaks up. "What about jobs? My dad works in the oil industry. He's worried about losing his livelihood if we move too quickly on clean energy."

Steve turns to him, his expression thoughtful. "That's a valid concern, and it's one we take very seriously. We're not looking to leave anyone behind in this transition. Our plan includes a comprehensive job retraining program for workers in fossil fuel industries. We want to create new opportunities in clean energy sectors, so people like your dad can be part of building a sustainable future without sacrificing their livelihoods."

You nod, adding, "We're looking at ways to incentivize companies to retool their existing facilities for clean energy production. It's not just about creating new jobs, but also about transforming existing ones."

The young man seems to consider this, nodding slowly. "That sounds... promising. I'd like to learn more about that."

Sophia and Bucky begin to press in, signaling that you need to move along to get into the actual event.

"We're limited for time here, but we’d be eager to discuss more details," you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out a business card. "Here's my contact information. Please reach out soon, I mean it.”

You and Steve then get ushered inside, hand in hand.

Later that night, you get a rare opportunity, and one you’ve been excited but also nervous for since it landed on your schedule the week before.

Former President and First Lady Matt and Helen Santos have invited you to their Houston home for dinner and drinks. It’s not a public appearance, so that takes some of the pressure off, but you're still acutely aware of the significance of this meeting. The Santos administration remains widely regarded as one of the most successful in recent history, and their endorsement - even an implicit one - could be a game-changer for the campaign.

Beyond that it's a chance to learn from a couple who've been through the crucible of a presidential campaign and life in the White House.

Helen Santos greets you at the door, her warm smile immediately putting you at ease. "Come in! We're so glad you could make it," she says, ushering you inside.

The interior of the home is tastefully decorated, a blend of modern and traditional styles that feels both impressive and comfortable. You spot several family photos on the walls, reminders that despite their status, the Santos family is just that - a family.

Matt Santos appears from what you assume is the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Welcome, you two," he says, shaking Steve's hand and giving you a brief hug. "I hope you’re hungry! It’s humble, but I’m putting the finishing touches on my chili."

“Don’t let him fool you,” Helen says, “he’s anything but humble about it.”

“Sorry, did I forget to mention the recipe won a blue ribbon before I got into politics? Because it did, so it wasn’t a biased award,” he clarifies.

You all laugh, and the warmth and welcome these two generate in those first few minutes is remarkable, and something that truly soothes your heart in ways you didn’t know you were hungry for.

As you settle into the Santos' comfortable living room, Helen offers drinks. You accept a glass of wine, grateful for something to occupy your hands. Steve opts for water, ever the responsible candidate.

"So," Matt says, leaning back in his armchair, "how's the campaign trail treating you? I remember those days - exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure."

Steve nods, a wry smile on his face. "That's an apt description. It's been... intense. But rewarding."

"And how are you two holding up as a couple?" Helen asks, her eyes kind but perceptive. "The campaign trail can be brutal, especially on a relationship."

You glance at Steve, unsure how to answer. Your relationship is still mostly for show, but you've grown closer over the past few weeks. Before you can formulate a response, Steve speaks up.

"It's been an adjustment," he says diplomatically. "But we're figuring it out."

Matt nods knowingly. "Helen and I had been married for years before we ran, and it was still a challenge. I can't imagine doing it as newlyweds."

You smile, trying to hide your discomfort. "It's certainly been a unique experience," you say, opting for honesty. "We're learning a lot about each other very quickly."

Helen leans forward, her expression sympathetic. "I'm sure it's overwhelming at times. The scrutiny, the constant demands on your time and energy. It can be a lot to handle, especially when you're still getting to know each other."

You nod, feeling a wave of relief at her understanding. "It is overwhelming," you admit. "But it's exciting, in its own way. We're building something together, not just as a couple but for the country."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture surprises you, but you try not to let it show. "She's been incredible," he says, his voice warm. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in this.”

Helen regards you both, her expression warm but serious. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, pulling out my First Lady moment already, but I've been watching you two. Not just tonight, but throughout the campaign. There's something there, between you. A spark, a connection. Don't lose that in all the craziness of the campaign."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly, caught off guard by Helen's perceptiveness. You wonder if she’s speaking in general or if she suspects yours is a politically arranged marriage. You glance at Steve, who looks equally surprised.

Matt chimes in, "Helen's right. The campaign is important, but at the end of the day, it's your relationship that will sustain you through the challenges ahead. Trust me, if you make it to the White House, you'll need each other more than ever."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "We appreciate the advice. It's not easy to find that balance."

You squeeze Steve's hand, grateful for his honesty. "We're working on it," you add softly.

He pulls your hand casually into his lap and envelops it in both of his. You can't help but feel a small thrill at the contact, the very normal expression of intimacy that speaks of a more comfortable and normal connection, and you love the way his large hands hold yours. This feels like something that could be real, on more days than this.

Helen smiles warmly. "That's all anyone can ask. Now, who's ready for some of Matt's famous chili?"

As you move to the dining room, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. The Santos' warmth and wisdom have touched something deep within you, reminding you of the very real human element at the heart of this political whirlwind.

Over dinner, the conversation flows easily, touching on everything from campaign strategies to favorite books. You find yourself relaxing, laughing at Matt's stories from his time in office and Helen's witty comebacks.

As the evening winds down, Helen pulls you aside while the men are engrossed in a discussion about foreign policy.

"Can I give you some advice?" Helen asks softly, her eyes kind but serious.

You nod eagerly, grateful to glean even more guidance from someone who's walked this path before.

Helen takes a deep breath. "The hardest part of being First Lady isn't the public scrutiny or the demanding schedule. It's maintaining your sense of self in the midst of it all. Don't lose yourself in the role, in the campaign, or even in your marriage. Remember who you are and what you bring to the table."

You feel a lump form in your throat, touched by Helen's words and the understanding behind them. "Thank you," you manage to say. "I... I'm trying to find that balance."

Helen smiles warmly. "I can see that. And from what I've observed, you're doing a remarkable job. But it's a constant effort, believe me."

You nod, absorbing her words. "How did you do it? Maintain your identity while supporting him and taking on such a public role?"

Helen's eyes grow distant for a moment, as if recalling a memory. "It was hard," she admits. "There were times I felt lost, like I was just an extension of Matt's presidency rather than my own person. I learned to carve out spaces for myself - my own initiatives, my own passions. And most importantly, I made sure Matt and I had time just for us, away from the politics and the pressures."

You feel a pang in your chest at her words. You and Steve barely have time alone, let alone time to just be yourselves without the weight of the campaign.

Helen smiles warmly. "This journey you're on - whether or not he gets elected - it's meant to be shared."

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Sometimes I feel like I'm still getting to know him, even as we're presenting this united front to the world."

Helen's expression softens with understanding. "That's not uncommon, especially given your unique circumstances. But I see the way he looks at you when you're not watching. There's admiration there, and something deeper. A lot of people in this country get married, but not every married couple has that for each other, and even some of the ones who do don’t realize the treasure they have. Don't be afraid to explore it. Grow it together."

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? You think back to the conversation you overheard back in that hotel conference room in Cleveland, Steve's hesitation, his fear of letting you in. But also his words of praise, the gentle touches that have become more frequent lately. Could there be more there than just a political partnership?

Before you can respond, the men rejoin you, Steve taking his place beside you, and his hand comes to rest gently on your lower back. "Ready to head out?" he asks softly. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

You nod, and the four of you initiate your goodbyes.

“Thank you," you say, turning back to Helen, hoping she understands the depth of your gratitude. "For everything."

She pulls you into a warm hug. "Any time," she says. "And I mean that. Call me if you ever need to talk, about anything."

You and Steve finish your goodbyes and make your way to the waiting car. The evening has given you much to think about, not just about the campaign, but about your relationship with Steve.

The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but you realize it’s a comfortable silence.

Arriving at that night’s hotel, the silence lingers all the way until you enter the elevator, Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful. "That was enlightening," he says softly.

You nod, feeling a mix of emotions - gratitude for the Santos' wisdom, hope for what could be, and a lingering uncertainty about where you and Steve stand. "They're incredible people," you reply. "So generous with their time and wisdom."

Steve hums in agreement. The elevator doors open, and you two head down the hallway to your suites, right across the hall from each other.

Normally, this is where you'd say goodnight and go your separate ways - Steve to his room, you to yours. But you hesitate, because tonight feels different.

"Helen gave me some really good advice," you say.

Steve looks at you intently, his blue eyes searching yours. "Oh? What about?"

"About maintaining my sense of self through all of this. And... about us."

"What did she say about us?" Steve asks.

You hesitate, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "She said... she sees the strong connection between us, and that we shouldn't lose sight of it in the chaos of the campaign."

Steve's expression softens, a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite read. He takes a step closer to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"And what do you think?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

Your heart races as you look up at him. "Steve, I..." you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

He reaches out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. "I know," he says softly. "I've been... distant. Guarded. And I'm sorry for that."

The truth is, you know you’ve been guarded, too. And you’re not sure you’re ready to risk anything with exploring more. Not only do you both need to be focused for the campaign, but you locked your heart in a box, and you don’t know if opening it will be a mess that you can face right now.

But you do think there’s a possibility you could have more connection without risking messy feelings.

So you ask, “We’re building a good partnership in this, aren’t we?”

"We are," Steve agrees, his voice warm. "You've been incredible through all of this. I meant what I told the Santos’s - I couldn't ask for a better partner."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words, but you push it aside. "I was thinking," you say carefully, "maybe we could try to spend a little more time together. Not more campaign events or strategy meetings, but... just us. Getting to know each other better."

Steve's expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that," he says quietly. "I think we could both use a friend who’s also in the eye of the storm of all of this."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervous anticipation. He has Sam and Bucky on this campaign trail with him, but their roles are not the same, not giving speeches or being asked for comments.

"Maybe we could start with a meal a day? Just the two of us, no campaign staff or memos or prep."

"It's a date," Steve says. Then quickly adds, "I mean, not a date-date, but... you know what I mean."

You can't help but give a small laugh at Steve's flustered correction. It's endearing to see this side of him - the man behind the polished candidate facade.

"I know what you mean," you assure him with a warm smile.

Steve nods, looking relieved. "Good. That's... good." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "How about breakfast tomorrow? We have that early flight, but we could grab something quick before we head to the airport."

"Sounds perfect," you agree. "I'll meet you in the lobby at 6?"

"It's a plan," Steve says, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both linger for a moment, neither seeming eager to end the conversation. His eyes are so blue, and when you're this close, and he just looks at you like that, your chest tightens in a pleasantly uncomfortable way that you're not ready for but can't pull away from.

Thankfully, Steve clears his throat. "Well, I guess we should get some sleep," he says, taking a step back. "Big day again tomorrow."

You nod, feeling a mix of disappointment and anticipation. "Always. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight," he replies softly.

You unlock your hotel room door and step inside, your mind racing with thoughts of the evening - the Santos' advice, your conversation with Steve, and the promise of breakfast tomorrow. As you get ready for bed, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope for what's to come, both for the campaign and for your relationship with Steve.

next part: coming 11/15...

SURPRISE CAMEO FROM THE WEST WING! If you're not a fan of the show, I didn't think it would be a problem - they're just a former Presidential couple. But if you ARE, then I hope you liked seeing them! I'm deep into my every-few-years (every four) rewatch and haven't bumped into them yet, but I'm about to...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #red white & true #aspen wrote something

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fxstpace · 6 hours ago

Text

the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 19.7k

↳ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ↳ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either.

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all.

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that.

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require.

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee.

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought.

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?”

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?”

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider.

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn.

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn.

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots.

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag.

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines.

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?”

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes.

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :)

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him.

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is.

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap.

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea.

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths.

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago.

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own.

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.”

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones.

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him.

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says.

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused.

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again.

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well.

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?”

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand.

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead.

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants.

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway.

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :)

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest.

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat.

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.”

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence.

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours.

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils.

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching.

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him.

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory.

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back.

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well.

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him.

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying.

He remembers.

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly.

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want?

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?”

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin.

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects.

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm.

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves.

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired.

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow.

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts.

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again.

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon.

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat.

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity.

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table.

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane.

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit.

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him.

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?”

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone.

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly.

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into.

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship.

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan.

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth.

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips.

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily.

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name.

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed.

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause.

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching.

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu.

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him.

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that.

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