#but yes - the show has been messed with from all sides | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

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Summary: You’ve never felt fully at home in your own skin, but that has never stopped Joel from showing you just how much he wants you. One night, you gather the courage to show him what you’ve been too afraid to share, and he shows you exactly what it means to be wanted, worshipped, and seen.

|| smut MDNI 18+, Joel is down bad in love, self conscious reader, no physical description (except 'soft belly') but reader is insecure of their body, no specific timeline, age gap mentioned but not specified, pinv, f!receiving oral, little bit of (f!receiving) ass play, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, soft!joel, he calls you like every pet name in the book. some aftercare || notes: joel miller in reading glasses hello? dont kill me for being a little bit of a cornball in here. joel is a cornball when he's in love. Yes I know I wrote the word pretty a lot! That’s the point!!! Inspired by this request

Joel’s bed became home long before you were ready to admit it.

It’s where you feel safest. It’s where he tugs you into his chest first thing in the morning, rough hand splayed over your back like it belongs there, murmuring something low and sleep-thick against your temple. It’s where you read curled into his side at night, him propped up against the headboard in that worn old Henley, eyes flicking lazily over the pages of whatever book you handed him, while yours is gripped a little tighter, the latest thriller mystery that has your heartbeat ticking up by the final chapters.

He had told you to stop reading them before bed once, but he didn’t really mean it. Not when you curled tighter into him, not when your hand slid across his stomach and stayed there gripping him like you needed to be close to something steady, something warm. Something like him.

Joel loves you like this. Warm and soft and pliant in his bed.

It’s one of his favorite places. Not just for pressing you down into the mattress and filling you, not just for the pretty, breathy sounds you make when you’re too far gone to think about what you look like or where his hands are. No—he loves the quiet moments, too. The ones where your limbs are tangled up with his, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, your skin still carrying the ghost of his touch.

And every now and then, when you’re asleep on his chest or laughing at something dumb he said, he still finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up with a girl like you.

You’re so much younger. So much softer. He doesn’t know what you see in a man like him—older, rougher, carved from all the years you haven’t had to carry yet. You could’ve had anyone. But you chose him.

You’ve been together a few months now, and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it. Still doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust, your sweetness, your sharp quick wit when he least expects it.

He tried to keep his distance at first. Tried not to look too long when you smiled, not to follow the sound of your voice like a damn tether every time you were in the room. Told himself it wasn’t right. You weren’t for him. You were good. But you kept coming closer.

And once you started to pursue him—sweet and fearless and so goddamn certain—his resolve didn’t just crack. It collapsed.

The years between you didn’t matter to him anymore. The guilt didn’t matter. The voice in his head that told him to stop, that warned him he was too old, too jaded, too broken to ever deserve you—it all went quiet the second you looked at him like he was worth wanting.

He had to have you. To feel you, hear you, know you. So he gave in.

But there was still something there he didn’t quite understand, even now. Something that never quite leaves him.

Because every time he takes you to bed with the singular thought of getting you naked, of taking you until he gets his fill, until you’re trembling and wrecked and crying out his name—every single time, he sees it.

That flicker of hesitation.

He watches your shoulders shrink inward. Watches the way your hands move to cover your belly the second his fingers slip beneath your shirt. The way your breath stutters like you’re already bracing for something—even if it’s just his eyes.

You never say it out loud. You don’t have to.

And every time he settles over you, broad chest looming, palms sliding down your sides with reverent slowness as he lays you down on his bedspread, you ask him in that sweet, uncertain voice:

“Can we turn the light off?”

And Joel… hesitates.

Just for a second. Just long enough to take one more look at your face—flushed and perfect and lips swollen from letting him kiss them until they’re bruised. He always obliges. Always reaches over and clicks off the bedside lamp without a word, even if something in his chest aches as the room goes dark.

In the low moonlight, he can still see pieces of you. The softness of your belly. The curve of your thighs. The arch of your back when you start to melt beneath his touch. And he reveres it. All of it.

Worships you like you’re something holy.

But even in the dark, he notices everything.

The way your breath hitches when he kisses down your body—not with pleasure, but with discomfort. The subtle tension in your limbs when he trails his lips past your ribs. The way you squirm when his mouth lingers at the tender skin between your stomach and mound. Not because it’s too much. But because you don’t want to be seen.

And it kills him a little every time.

Because he wants to see you. All of you. Wants you to know that there is not a single inch of your body he doesn’t adore.

But still, like many nights before, he obliges you tonight and reaches over to turn out the light at your request.

The room falls into darkness.

Joel wakes to the warm and golden light of the morning, the kind where sunlight filters through the blinds in soft, slatted beams, pooling across the hardwood floor. The kind where the world outside feels far away, like it can wait a little longer while the house stays quiet.

His mind fully catches up to the scent of coffee and the soft creak of floorboards.

The bed is empty beside him, blankets still warm, your pillow carrying the shape of your head. He rubs the sleep from his face and swings his legs over the edge, the weight of last night still humming low in his chest.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, barefoot, wearing nothing but his t-shirt—one of those older ones, soft and stretched out, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair’s a little messy, skin still marked in places from where his mouth had worshipped you in the hours of the night.

You’re so focused on pouring coffee into your favorite mug—the pink one with the little chip at the rim, just big enough to catch your lip if you’re not careful—that you don’t hear him come in.

He steps in behind you, silent as ever, warmth radiating off his chest before you even feel his hands.

One arm slips around your waist, the other gliding up beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—until his hand splays flat across your stomach. His lips find your neck a second later, soft and unhurried, brushing along your skin as he breathes you in.

You stiffen, just a little. It’s not resistance, you could never resist him, but your body goes still beneath his touch, that automatic flicker of self-consciousness rising to the surface like it always does when he touches you in the daylight.

Still, you don’t move away.

Joel’s voice is low and rough in your ear, all gravel and morning warmth, “‘Mornin’, darlin’.”

You smile, small, a little sheepish, but it’s there. “Morning.”

His hand drops lower, fingers brushing the curve of your hip, then sliding up again, slow and lazy. His other arm tightens around your front, keeping you pulled against him as his lips trail from your neck to your cheek.

“Joel—” you murmur, half a protest, half a laugh, squirming under his touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, voice thicker now, rougher with sleep and want. “So sexy in my shirt, honey.”

You go quiet. Not because you don’t like it. But because it still hits that spot—the part of you that flinches at being seen. You press your lips together, focus on the coffee in your hand, as if the words might disappear if you just don’t look at him.

But Joel sees it. Feels the shift. The way you tense ever so slightly when he calls you nice things. Like the words don’t fit, not yet. Like you still haven’t figured out how to wear them.

He kisses your cheek again, slower this time.

“I mean it,” he adds softly.

You nod once, a breath catching in your chest before you murmur, “I know.”

Joel leans in and kisses the back of your head, just behind your ear, then murmurs against your skin, “Put the coffee down for a second.”

You glance over your shoulder, suspicious but smiling. “Why?”

“Just do it, baby.”

With a soft sigh, you set the mug back on the counter. Before you can ask again, he’s turning you in his arms, hands firm but careful on your hips and over the shirt, as he spins you to face him.

He steps in close, real close, until the backs of your thighs press against the cabinets and his hands come up to cradle your face. Big, warm palms on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the softness there like he’s memorizing the way you feel under his touch.

Then his hands squish your cheeks between his hands, just enough to puff your lips out like a fish.

Your brows furrow as you try in vain to pull away. “Joel—!”

“Say it,” he says, dead serious despite the ridiculous hold he has on your face.

Your eyebrows knit further as you still. “Say what?”

He smirks, dipping his head until your noses bump. “Say: I’m pretty.”

You groan, giggling despite yourself as you try to wiggle free. “Joel, oh my god—”

He holds on, pressing exaggerated kisses to your squished face—your cheek, your forehead, your nose and your puffed out top lip. “Say it. Go on. I’ll wait all day.”

“Fine!” you huff, lips barely moving from the way he’s still holding your face. “I’m pretty.”

He grins, loosening his hold just enough so you can speak properly, though he keeps his hands right where they are. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I’m pretty,” you repeat, cheeks heating as you say it, soft and unsure but not sarcastic. Not deflecting.

Joel beams, eyes crinkling at the corners, kissing your lips as he loosens his hold on your face. “Damn right you are. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You can’t help but smile now, wide and a little bashful. You duck your head, but he catches you again, presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and unhurried.

And when he backs away and you finally reach for your coffee again, cheeks still warm, he’s watching you like he’s already counting the seconds until he gets to do it all over again.

That night starts like any other night.

Late, quiet, the house dipped in soft shadows. The windows are cracked just enough to let in the evening breeze, the hum of cicadas drifting in with the warm air. Joel’s in bed already, reading glasses sliding down his nose, thumbing through the same page of his book he’s read three times without taking in a single word.

He’s waiting for you to join him, your book is still closed on the side table. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom before you could even cuddle up in bed beside him. You had said you needed two minutes.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

He figures you’re brushing your teeth. Or lost in one of your little bedtime routines—rearranging things on the counter or doing your 10 step nightly skincare. He doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to your rhythms the more you stayed over. Grown to love them, even.

But then he hears the bedroom door open, and when he glances up, expecting to see you in one of your usual pajamas, his breath catches. You’re not wearing one of his big T-shirts or those soft cotton sets you like so much.

You’re standing in the doorway in white lace, delicate and sheer and almost ethereal in the low glow of the lamp light.

It damn near knocks the air out of him.

He forgets all about the book in his lap—doesn’t even feel it fall to the mattress as his gaze rakes over you, slow and disbelieving. His jaw goes slack as he removes his glasses and sets them on the side table.

The bra—he doesn’t know what it’s called, not that it matters—looks daintier and more delicate than anything he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. Feminine in a way that hits him right in the chest. It wraps around you like it was made for your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. The straps are thin, dipping into the softness of your shoulders, and the lace cups give just enough to let his imagination blur with what’s already in front of him.

The matching bottoms sit high on your hips, scalloped lace tracing the tops of your thighs, giving him a perfect view of the skin he’s only ever touched in the dark.

Your hair is pulled back behind your shoulders—intentionally, he thinks, like you wanted him to have the full view.

Your lip is tucked under your top teeth, and your eyes flick down for a second, uncertain—then back up again.

But then you smile.

Shy, but proud. Like you’re showing him something precious and a little terrifying. Like you finally believe, even just a little, that he might actually mean every word he’s ever said about you.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed, jaw tight with restraint as he beckons you to him. Slowly, you make your way over, and he soaks in the look of your thighs as you move, the way your body is begging to be marked and taken. His hands curl against his own thighs like he’s afraid to touch you too fast, too hard, and shatter the moment.

But when you move to stand between his knees, and he lifts his eyes up to meet yours, you don’t flinch.

He lets out a long, shaky breath. Then his hands lift slowly, reverently, palms brushing along the outside of your thighs, up to your hips.

His voice is low, almost reverent. “Christ, baby… look at you.”

You let out a nervous laugh, eyes dropping for a second—but you don’t cover yourself. Don’t twist away like you usually do. You stay right there, between his knees, close enough for him to smell the soft scent of your lotion and whatever little perfume you’d put on just for him.

Joel lifts his hands, slow and sure, and holds your hips, warm, steady, splayed wide like he wants to cover all of you. His thumb strokes gently over your skin where the lace ends, just above your hipbone.

“You did this for me?” he murmurs, looking up at you.

You nod once, eyes still shy but glowing with something soft. “I wanted to. I…I know I usually…”

“I know,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking your skin under his touch. “Don’t gotta explain nothin’ to me.”

His voice is gentle, but there’s something else beneath it now. Thicker. Hotter. Like he’s barely keeping a lid on what he really wants to say.

You bite your lip again, tucking it under your top teeth as you gauge his reaction. Joel leans in, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a kiss between the valley of your breasts—slow, open-mouthed, just wet enough to make your breath stutter.

You exhale, body already leaning into him, melting under the heat of his mouth, the drag of his stubble, the way his hands are rubbing slow circles along your thighs. His fingers toy with the hem of the lace between your legs, pinching the delicate fabric between them, like he can’t decide whether to rip it off or worship it.

“You know what this does to me? What you do to me, angel?” he rasps, voice rough now, filthy and unfiltered. “You got me starin’ like a damn animal. Don’t even know where I wanna taste first.”

He kisses the underside of your breast, and even though it's covered by lace, he bites softly at the curve, tongue soothing the mark he leaves behind. His hands move to grip your ass tightly now, pulling you closer, positioning so your stomach and hips are flush against his chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Every time I think I’ve seen all of you, you go and give me this?”

His eyes flick up, hungry and reverent. You squirm, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips, but Joel doesn't back off. He presses another kiss to your stomach, then just above your belly button, murmuring into your skin.

“Timid little thing—but deep down you like it, don’t you? Like when Daddy talks like this?”

Your thighs twitch under his hands and you nod.

He grins, feral and soft all at once. His hands slide up your sides, palms hot and steady against your ribs, thumbs brushing the edge of lace as his mouth follows—slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, tongue flicking against the fabric covering your breasts. His tongue pokes out over the lace of your bodice right where your nipple would be, teeth grazing over the hidden but pebbled skin. Your jaw falls open as you watch him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, breath catching against your sternum. “You wore this just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

One hand lifts, fingers tugging gently at the strap of your bralette, sliding it down your shoulder. Then the other. His movements are careful, almost reverent, as he peels the lace down and away, baring you inch by inch.

And when your breasts spill free, his breath catches audibly.

“Jesus Christ.”

He sits back just far enough to look. Just for a moment. Just to see you.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, thick with awe and heat. He brings his hands up to grip the flesh of your breasts, kneading them together, “Bet you don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

You bite your lip again, that flicker of shyness still dancing across your face—like you have to physically restrain yourself from trying to cover the revealed skin. But no. Not this time.

Joel leans in and licks a slow stripe over one nipple, making you gasp. He drags his tongue in a lazy circle, then sucks it into his mouth, groaning low in his throat like he’s tasting heaven.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers gripping him as your back arches on instinct.

“That’s it,” he growls, pulling back just to press a kiss between your breasts before taking the other into his mouth, this time sucking harder, leaving it damp and peaked from his tongue. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear every sound you make when I touch you like this.”

Your hips roll against him, thighs trembling as you stand between his legs.

“Sensitive little thing,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Just needed someone to show you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

He kisses lower, down the underside of your breast, then back up again, licking softly, sucking just enough to leave the faintest mark.

“M’gonna take good care of you tonight, baby,” he breathes, dragging his mouth back to your nipple. “Gonna take my timeand take every fuckin’ inch of this sweet body. You gonna let me?”

You nod, breathless, voice caught somewhere in your throat,“Y-yeah.”

Joel looks up, eyes blazing, lips slick from kissing you.

“‘Yeah’, what? Tell me, honey.”

Your begin to squirm as you tell him, “I want you to, Daddy. Please.”

Joel groans like it physically knocks the air out of him. His hands trail back down your sides, slow and reverent, fingertips grazing the lace waistband still hugging your hips.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth lower.

He kisses down your stomach, tongue peeking out to trace the little dip of your navel, his hands smoothing down your hips and behind to cup your ass again, fingers squeezing tight. The lace panties are all that remain, soft and delicate, slightly damp already with your arousal. He noses along the waistband, breathing you in.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he growls, teeth catching gently at the fabric. “Bet you taste even better.”

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging gently as he tongues over the lace, not pulling it down yet—just feeling you through it, his mouth wet and hungry over your hips and tummy.

You moan, your hips grinding against him again as he teases you, his one hand reaching down to drag his fingers over your clothed mound, the slick of your folds soaking through. He groans at the feeling before pulling back with a sharp exhale, looking up at you with wild eyes.

“On the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”

You blink, heart leaping, but you don’t hesitate. You scramble onto the mattress, crawling forward on shaky limbs until you’re positioned right where he wants you—on all fours, back arched, breath quick and needy.

Joel groans behind you at the sight, pulling his shirt over his head before dragging a hand up your spine, slow and heavy.

“Goddamn, baby. Look at you.”

Once he’s climbed onto the bed behind you, spreading your knees a little wider, he kneads at your ass with both hands, reverent and gentle. He settles his body lower, shifting on the bed until his face is level with your center. He drags his thumbs along the backs of your thighs, spreading them a little wider, groaning low when he sees how soaked the lace of your panties is—slick and clinging to your folds, a perfect puffy outline of everything he’s about to taste.

“Look at this,” he breathes, like it’s something sacred. “Fuckin’ drenched for me.”

You gasp when you feel his mouth again—not on your skin, but over the lace. A slow, deliberate kiss right to the center of you, hot and wet and perfectly placed. His lips part, tongue nudging against the fabric, teasing your clit through the sheer barrier.

It’s maddening.

He hums, the vibration making your hips twitch.

“Fuck, baby… I could spend all night like this. Kissin’ you through these pretty little panties. Smellin’ you. Feelin’ how worked up you are for me.” He nuzzles in deeper, breathing hot against you, licking a wide, slow stripe up the center of your heat—through the lace—then mouthing at it, sloppy and wet, soaking it even more.

You sob, spine arching, thighs quivering where they try to stay upright. Joel groans against you.

“Can’t believe you wore this just for me,” he mutters, dragging his tongue back down. “So fuckin’ soft. So sweet. Pussy’s beggin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You nod frantically, already breathless. “Yes—God, Joel, please—”

He chuckles darkly, biting gently at the fabric. “Please what, baby?”

“Take them off,” you gasp. “Please—need you.”

Joel pulls back, and you feel the shift in the air before you feel his hands—rough palms curling under the waistband of your panties, fingers brushing the skin of your hips as he peels the lace down slow. Agonizingly slow.

“Anything for my girl,” he says.

Joel’s broad, warm hands palm at your ass, kneading every inch as he situates himself behind you. He dips lower, mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses into the flesh of your left cheek, then the right, before his teeth sink down into the soft meat.

You yelp, hips jerking at the sharp nip.

“Prettiest noises too,” he murmurs into your skin, kissing the sensitive mark he left behind. His hands spread your cheeks, thumbs firm as they open you up for him—and when you peek over your shoulder, you find his eyes locked on your center, gaze dark and fixated, the pupils blown wide.

When he catches you looking, his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“She’s flirtin’ with me,” he says, grinning like the devil.

Your face burns, and you let your head drop into the pillows, hiding from the embarrassment that curls through your belly—hot and helpless, tangled with molten want.

Joel’s lips find your skin again, slower now, more reverent as he holds you open. His tongue drags between your cheeks, a deep, teasing stroke that makes your whole body tense. He kisses your slick folds with a wet, lewd sound that makes you gasp.

He hums, low and satisfied, then laps at your dripping arousal like it’s his first taste of water in weeks.

“And the prettiest pussy,” he rasps, lips brushing your folds. “You know that, darlin’?”

You moan, unable to answer, as his tongue pushes deeper. He flattens it and licks slow, wide strokes up your slit before circling your clit. His nose bumps your entrance, barely prodding, teasing you as his tongue works your clit in tight, filthy circles.

Your hips start moving without your permission, grinding into his face, seeking more.

Joel groans like you’re his favorite meal, tongue flattening again, letting you push into him.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “Ride my face.”

You mewl, your body bucking, wild and desperate, grinding into him like a goddamn bronco at the fair. Your walls flutter, your core pulsing with pressure as it builds, and builds, and builds.

Your thighs begin to shake.

Joel’s grip on you tightens as he takes over, tongue working your clit with expert flicks, fast and relentless.

The pressure in your belly snaps like a pulled cord, your spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, pushing yourself deeper into his mouth as you come, loud and wrecked, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Joel moans into you like he’s the one coming undone, tongue never faltering, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Even as you start to come down, breath catching in your throat, he doesn’t stop. He just slows, letting you twitch and gasp and shake through it.

Then, you feel it. The warm, wet pressure of his tongue pushing up past your folds, over the skin between, then circling your tighter hole. You jump at the intrusion, a sharp gasp breaking from your lips—but the haze of your orgasm makes your body soft, receptive, already melting for him.

You whimper, hips twitching. Joel just groans again, closing his lips around your sensitive rim, suckling gently.

“F–fuck,” you whisper, unable to think, to move, to breathe.

He licks you there once more before planting slow, open-mouthed kisses up your spine, up to the small of your back, your shoulder blades, and finally your neck.

Then he’s curling over you, beard scratchy against your skin, his lips brushing your cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispers, voice low and rough, "Wanna see your face when I stuff you full a'me,"

You can’t help but giggle at the tickle of his scruff against your neck, still dazed, still boneless, but do as you’re told—twisting under him until you’re on your back, staring up at him.

Joel’s eyes, though dark with hunger, hold something else too. Something deep and aching. Something sweet.

And then, with that same steady tone he uses when talking patrol routes or fixing fences, he says, “Now. Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart.”

His lips brush your jaw, then your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up so deep, fuck you so full of my cock, my cum, me, that when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you’re gonna see is how fuckin’ beautiful you are—‘cause you’ll still be wearin’ what I did to you tonight.”

Your chest heaves, the words settling deep in your stomach, curling there like heat and honey.

“Joel, I—” you start to say, only to gasp when you feel the hot, thick head of his cock nudge at your entrance.

“You feel this, honey?” he murmurs, pulling back to look down between you, voice rough and reverent. “Feel how bad he wants you? How bad I want you?”

You nod, gripping his forearms tight, your thighs falling open even wider for him.

He notches just the bulbous tip inside you and hisses at the wet heat.

“Jesus,” you breathe. “I feel it, Joel, I—I… pleasepleaseplease—”

“I know, angel, I know,” he pants, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, grounding you. “Now I wanna hear you say it.”

Your brain lags, thick with need, swimming in lust and love and the ache to just feel him.

“W-what?”

Joel watches you, eyes burning into yours.

“Say, ‘I’m pretty, Daddy.’”

Your whole body flushes, lips parted in disbelief, already whining at the way he just knows how to unravel you.

You groan wordlessly, bringing your hands to your face to hide. He is so on your shit list for this.

Joel chuckles darkly, pushing in another inch, and you whimper behind your hands.

“I’m waitin’, darlin'.”

You squirm under him, thighs trembling, skin turning hotter and hotter by the second. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him to move, to fill you, to do something.

But Joel waits. He always waits—until you give in, until he gets what he wants.

You lift your hands from your face slowly, eyes hazy, cheeks heated, lips parted. He’s watching you like a man possessed, one hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapped around his pulsing member with agonizing patience.

“M’pretty,” you whisper.

Joel’s brow arches, lips curling, “Not quite, sweetheart. You know how I want it.”

Your chest heaves. Your pussy clenches around just the tip of him, and even though you see the twitch in his jaw, he still waits.

So you gather your courage, heart pounding in your throat: “I’m pretty, Daddy.”

Joel’s smile breaks across his face, so bright and full of something so tender it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It almost pulls you out of the heat of it, the haze of arousal, until your core clenches and he sinks into you just a little deeper.

You gasp, the stretch sharp and perfect.

He leans down slowly, hands braced in the pillows beside your head, lowering himself onto his forearms until his chest is flush with yours, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

He’s still not fully sheathed in you.

“Again.”

“I… I’m pretty, Daddy,” you breathe, voice shaky as your pussy tries to adjust around the thick stretch of him.

“The prettiest,” he nods, and his lips mold to yours as he finally pushes all the way in. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, the sound swallowed by his tongue slipping between your lips, hot and hungry, as he bottoms out. His balls press firmly against the slick, wet crevice of your ass, and the mess between your thighs is obscene—your arousal dripping, sticky and hot, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Joel groans into your mouth, loud and wrecked like its been trapped in his chest for hours. His hands come up to cradle your head, keeping you right there beneath him as he begins to move, slow at first, pulling out a few inches before rolling back in, the full weight of him rocking your body with every deep thrust.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. “Pussy’s so damn tight.”

He pulls out slowly again, then drives back in hard, enough to jolt you up the bed, the sound of it lewd and perfect. His brow furrows, eyes fluttered shut as he focuses on the way your walls cling to him.

“Fuckkkk,” you mewl as he continues sawing into you, filling you and stretching you around him, buried to the hilt.

Joel grins, feral and hungry, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

“Sound even prettier when you take my cock.”

He sets a rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that hit all the way up, filling you to the brim. His body covers yours, chest brushing your nipples, beard scratching your throat as he nips and kisses every inch he can reach.

“Been thinkin’ about this for so long, baby” he grits out between thrusts, hips slapping against yours. “The way you’re always hidin’ yourself from me, coverin’ up like you’re not the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your hands claw at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I got you, honey,” Joel pants, head dropping to your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him even tighter. “And you’re gonna start seein’ it for yourself,”

His pace picks up, rougher now, slamming into you with the kind of need that’s barely human.

“Gonna fuck you so full you forget every goddamn lie you ever told yourself in a mirror. Gonna make sure the only thing you remember is me—how you sounded, how you looked, when I wrecked this perfect little body.”

You’re gasping, whimpering, shaking beneath him, stars flashing behind your eyes as he pounds into you like he’s never going to stop.

“That’s it, baby. You take it,” he growls. “Take my cock so good, like the good girl you are for me. Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Joel—” you cry, voice breaking.

He lifts his head, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“Say it again, sweetheart. Tell Daddy how pretty you are.”

“I—I’m pretty,” you choke out. “I’m—fuck, I’m so pretty, Daddy—”

He loses it.

His hand slides under your thigh, hooking it up, opening you wider, deeper. His hips slam into you harder now, the rhythm filthy, brutal, perfect.

“I know, baby. I know. Look at you. My good girl, look so beautiful takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, guiding you forward as he sits back—craning your head up so you can look down, see exactly where you’re joined.

Your mind barely registers the softness of your belly, too focused on the thick stretch of him splitting you open, the obscene way you take every inch. You both watch as he drives into you, slick and deep and devastating, a ring of your last orgasm glistening around his cock. The pressure builds again, white-hot and unbearable.

And Joel knows—he feels it in the way you clench, the way your voice goes high and desperate, the way your hands grip him like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

“You gonna come for me again, sweet girl?” he pants, fucking you into the mattress. “Gonna let Daddy feel you pulse around his cock?”

“Yesyesyes—Joel, I—please—”

“That’s it,” he snarls, “give it to me.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a scream as he releases your neck, letting you arch your back, trembling as you milk his cock with spasms so tight it makes Joel curse, a broken sound from deep in his chest.

And then he’s coming, hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, filling you just like he promised. His voice breaks on your name as he grinds through it, hands gripping you enough to leave bruises, breathing ragged.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled and uneven. His chest heaving against yours. Your legs shaking around his waist.

His hand slides up, cradles the side of your face. His thumb brushes gently beneath your eye, even though you’re not crying—but something about the touch makes you want to. Makes your throat ache.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice all gravel and reverence. “You okay?”

You nod, eyes still fluttered shut, heart pounding. “Y-yeah.”

Joel presses a soft kiss to your lips—barely a touch, like he’s afraid of ruining you more than he already has. Then another, and another, until you're giggling quietly beneath him, too dazed to hold it in.

He smiles, the kind of smile he doesn’t show anyone else. The kind that barely reaches his eyes, because he’s still looking at you like you’re a dream that might disappear if he blinks too hard.

“Look at me, baby.”

You do. You always do when he asks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, voice low and rough with what sounds almost like awe. “You know that?”

The words hit you deeper than they should. You suck in a sharp breath, trying to even out your breathing, but your lungs don’t cooperate. Your eyes dart away, suddenly misting and too overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze—by the sincerity written all over his face. It's too much. Too close. Too real.

But Joel’s hand is already there, catching your chin gently, tilting your face back toward his. His thumb grazes the edge of your jaw, soft and steady.

“No,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t do that. Not tonight. Not after everything you just gave me.”

Your chest stutters, emotion building so fast and so sharp you feel like you might spill over with it. Your fingers twitch against his back before finally settling, drifting across his damp skin in slow, absent circles. You take deep, calming breaths to settle yourself. Breathe in, breathe out.

He’s still inside you, still heavy over you, like neither of you are ready to let go just yet. Your limbs are tangled, the air still thick with sweat and heat and something quieter—something softer.

The room is quiet now, the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty. Just your shared breaths, slow and unsteady. The low thump of his heart where his chest presses to yours.

Joel shifts only slightly, just enough to press a kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. Then your temple. The way he moves is unhurried, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s kissing more than just skin—like he’s kissing the pieces of you he’s afraid to speak out loud.

It makes your chest ache.

“You’re being so sweet,” you whisper, throat tight almost like it’s a secret.

His lips hover at your lips, pressing gently but not fully, “I don’t know how not to be,” he says softly. “Not with you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. His scent wraps around you—salt and skin and something warm and comforting that’s just him. The warmth blooms under your skin again, curling around your ribs, spreading down your spine.

“I love you.” he says, like it’s always been there, waiting. Like it’s not a confession so much as a truth that finally found its way out.

Your breath catches. Not from fear, not from panic, but from the sheer weight of it. The gravity. The sound of those words, spoken into the low light of the room while he's still buried inside you, holding you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Your eyes flutter open. You don’t move. Not yet.

Joel doesn’t either. But his voice dips low, softer now. A hint of uncertainty laces the edges. “Too much?”

You shake your head instantly, and your hands rise to cradle his face, looking up at him, fingertips brushing his temples like you need to anchor both of you in this moment.

“No,” you whisper, a tear finally escaping your eye. “No, not too much.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently as you pull him down and press your lips to his. And when you pull back, your words are trembling but sure.

“I love you too.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.Then he kisses you—slow and deep and home, his mouth moving against yours like he’s sealing the promise between your bodies.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal, @anxiousscribbling

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou #the last of us

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thepencilnerd · 1 month ago

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And Through It All

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: What starts with years of coffee, rooftop conversations, and quiet closeness unravels in the aftermath of a violent patient attack. As the hospital reels, so does Robby—until everything he’s buried comes to the surface. warnings: depiction of violence towards women genre: slow burn, pining, angst, fluff, you both suck at feelings word count: 3.6k a/n: yes this show still has me in a chokehold, this man is old enough to be my father, and protective/emotionally constipated Robby has consumed my every waking thought. also someone please sedate me because I don't know how I'm going to make it between episodes.

p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | Feels Like Trouble) if you're interested

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch always clocked in just after you.

It started as coincidence—years ago, when you were a new year-2 resident fumbling your way through charting and sleep deprivation. You’d arrive blurry-eyed at 5:58 AM, and two minutes later, he'd walk through the side door with two cups of coffee. One always ended up in your hand.

"This is my warm welcome to the pit, I’m not on coffee rounds," he’d grumbled the first time.

"Yet, my savior, here you are," you smiled, taking the cup. "Thanks, Dr. Robby."

He gave you a look, dry and fond. "Don’t get used to it."

Needless to say, you both did.

Now a senior resident, you’ve long since earned your stripes—but the morning coffees kept coming. So did the banter.

"That differential on bed 7 was a mess," Robby muttered one morning.

You sipped from your cup. "I was experimenting with chaos as a teaching strategy."

He stared, deadpan. "Rein it in, Nietzsche."

Late nights sometimes ended on the roof—shoulders nearly touching, silence stretched long between you. The rooftop was a liminal space: above the noise, between shifts, between you and him. You'd talk about patients. About medicine. About what the job takes and what it leaves behind.

One night you’d murmured, "Do you think we make a difference? Or are we just putting out fires that never stop?"

Robby didn’t answer right away. You could hear him breathing. "Some burning buildings are worth running into," he said eventually, voice low like he was admitting something he'd carried a long time.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t not. You were close—so close it blurred. You never noticed how often he drifted into your orbit. But others did.

"So... you and Robinavitch—what’s the deal?" McKay would tease with a grin.

You furrowed your brow, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

She leaned on the nurses' station, unbothered. "C’mon, you really don’t see it? The way he looks at you? Brings you coffee every morning? Steps in before anyone else can when the ball rolls downhill?"

You waved a hand dismissively. "He just… cares. That’s his job."

McKay raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Except he doesn’t bring me coffee. Or look like he’s going to deck someone if they so much as raise their voice at me."

You opened your mouth to reply—but the sliding ER doors slammed open. A gurney rushed in, shouting echoing off the walls. Without thinking, you turned and ran toward the trauma bay.

"Saved by the bell," McKay called after you, but you were already gone.

But you didn’t see how his eyes tracked you in a crowded hallway, lingering just a second longer than necessary—guarded, but unmistakably drawn. How he'd appear at your side before anyone else when things turned sideways, voice calm but stance protective, like he was positioning himself between you and whatever chaos had just erupted. The way his jaw would tighten when residents spoke too casually around you, especially if their tone dipped into flirtation. The moments when his voice dropped low, quiet and edged with something softer, when asking if you’d made it home safe after shifts—always phrased like a passing question, but one he never failed to ask.

Earlier that week, Robby had been leaning against the counter in the break room with Dana and a few of the nurses clustered nearby. He was sipping bad coffee and flipping through a chart when Dana nudged him lightly with her elbow.

"You know," she started with a smirk. "You're getting pretty soft on that senior resident."

Robby didn’t look up, adjusting the frame of his glasses. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"

Princess glanced at Perlah, who grinned. The two exchanged a few rapid lines in Tagalog—something teasing and full of mischief. Robby raised an eyebrow.

"Just because I don’t speak Tagalog doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what you’re saying," he said dryly, finally taking off his glasses and staring at the nurses judgementally.

Dana just about cackled. "Come on, Robby. You bring her coffee every morning, you hover when she’s in a tough case, you barely let interns breathe near her."

Perlah added, "And you always look at her like you’re trying not to."

Princess laughed. "Sir, that’s not just coffee—that’s courtship."

Robby rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. "You all have too much time on your hands."

"We're just saying," Dana said as she turned toward the door. "If you're gonna pine, at least be subtle."

He shook his head and muttered, "Back to work, people."

Then came the day everything cracked.

The patient had come in hostile—angry at the world and bleeding from a cut above his brow—muttering about how no one respected him, how women thought they were better than him. According to his chart, he had a record of violent outbursts and a chip on his shoulder the size of the hospital.

"You think you're smarter than me, don't you?" he sneered when you entered the bay, his arms crossed and chest puffed like a bull ready to pick a fight.

You kept your voice calm and professional. "Sir, I'm just here to update your chart and make sure you're getting what you need."

He laughed—sharp and bitter. "What I need is for people like you to stop looking at me like I'm some kind of freak. All you female doctors think you're so much better."

You froze for just a second. "I'm here to provide care. Nothing more."

"Don't lie to me!" he spat. "I see how you talk to the others. You think you're above me like some queen. But you're not. You're just another stupid cunt—"

"I'm going to get another physician to help with your case," you said quickly, trying to disengage, stepping back toward the call button.

"You walk away from me, and I swear—"

The second he was out of your peripheral vision, he lunged.

You cried out as his weight slammed into you, sending you hard to the ground. Everyone around you scattered, the staff protecting patients and patients protecting themselves.

Your elbow struck tile and pain bloomed across the crown of your skull. Your head snapped back like a slap bracelet. He loomed over you, shouting a string of vile insults, hands grabbing at whatever they could. Another set of fingers clamped around your throat. A scream pierced through the air shouting, "Robby!" Only after a set of doors burst open did you realize it was yours.

Before you had time to process what was happening, he was there.

Robby knocked the patient off of you with brute force that stunned the entire hospital staff. Without help, Robby pinned him to the floor facefirst with practiced strength, knees braced, and jaw clenched. "Security!" his voice thundered.

Subduing the attacker by his wrists, Robby's knee dug into the man's back thigh without mercy, making him cry out in pain. "Collins! Dana!" he barked, voice sharp and commanding, reverberating through the trauma bay like a shockwave.

You were on the floor, dazed, breath knocked out of you. The two women rushed to your side in the blink of an eye. All around, med students and residents stood frozen, eyes wide.

They had never seen Robby like that.

No one had ever seen Robby like that.

The patient struggled once more before Robby leaned in and drove his knee harder into the attacker’s thigh, his grip unrelenting, voice low and deadly calm. "Stay down."

Security took over a moment later, but Robby didn’t move until he was sure it was safe. Then he stood, exhaled once, and turned to Dana and Collins.

"I'll be over as soon as I can, brief me later," he said. "I'll assess her myself."

Dana crouched beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder. "We've got you," she said gently, then glanced over her shoulder. "We'll be in 4."

Collins helped you up with care, guiding you slowly down the hall while Dana kept close at your side. You were still disoriented, a sharp ringing in your ears, but you caught a glimpse of Robby speaking to security. He didn’t even glance your way—focused, furious, deadly calm.

In Exam Room 4, Collins set you down on the cot, already checking your pupils with a penlight. "You hit your head?"

"Yeah," you managed, wincing as you moved. "Elbow too. Think I caught most of the floor on the way down."

Dana pressed a cold pack into your hand. "You’re in shock. Just breathe. We’ll handle this."

Collins nodded, gently examining your face and palpating around your ribs. "No obvious trauma, nothing broken. Expect some bruising around your throat the next few days. We should get you in for a head CT just to be safe. You took a hard hit."

"I'll get that booked ASAP," Dana said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping out to handle the order. She paused at the doorway just long enough to exchange a glance with Collins—an unspoken check-in—before disappearing down the hall.

Moments later, the door opened again. Robby stepped in, his expression unreadable but his eyes scanning you like he was cataloging every mark, every breath.

"I’ll take it from here," he said quietly to Collins.

They exchanged a glance, then wordlessly stepped out.

And then it was just you and him.

He crossed to your side, kneeling. His hands moved automatically, gently tilting your chin to check for swelling, eyes flicking to your pupils, then the scrape along your cheekbone. "Can you look up for me? Good. Follow my finger."

His voice was low and clinical, but his touch was careful—too careful.

"Headache? Nausea? Double vision?" he asked, bringing your hand into his and turning it over to assess for any injuries.

"No, just a little dizzy," you murmured.

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your elbow, then the bruising along your neck. Then the questions stopped. His hands stilled.

He just looked at you—really looked at you—and the silence took hold.

His jaw flexed, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. Something had cracked open in him. Not just from what happened. From what it revealed.

And you could feel it—the weight in the room. Something unsaid between you, thick as blood and twice as loud.

You tried to fill the silence. "Dana said she'd put in a rush order for a head CT. Collins didn’t think anything was broken, just some bruising and—"

"Don’t," Robby said, almost too softly.

Your words faltered. You watched him—how his shoulders stayed tense, how his eyes didn’t move from yours, how still he was, like saying the wrong thing might make everything unravel.

"Robby," you said gently. "It's okay, I’m fine."

His jaw clenched, masseter muscles carving his sunken cheeks like a marble sculpture. "No, it's not. You’re not."

He said it so quietly, like he hated the truth of it. Getting up, he ruffled his hair and shook his head, voice still quiet but heavy. "Just... give me a second."

It wasn’t the injury that had shaken him—it was the realization. That in those terrifying few seconds, the worst thing he could imagine had nearly happened. And it wasn’t because you were his resident. Or his colleague.

It was because you were you.

You watched him pace as the silence dragged, your heart still pounding faintly in your ears. "Robby," you tried again, softer this time. "I'm okay, really..."

Still, he said nothing.

You gave a half-scoff, half-sigh, trying to shake off the tension. "I’ve had worse nights. Dana and Collins already cleared me—CT’s just precautionary. Nothing to worry about."

His movements stilled and eyes didn’t leave yours.

"What is it?" you asked, finally, your voice gentle but steady—like you already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

That cracked something in him. He looked away for a beat, jaw flexing again, his breath hitching as if he was holding back something too big to name. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw—nothing like the sharp, composed attending everyone else knew.

"I didn’t know it would feel like that."

He rubs the back of his neck, a self-soothing gesture in an effort to hold back whatever threatens to overflow. "Seeing you on the ground. Hearing you scream. For me. I’ve seen worse—God knows we all have. But nothing’s ever felt like that."

You froze.

His eyes met yours again, and the walls he always held in place—stone and steel and professionalism—weren’t there anymore. He looked at you like he wanted something he had never allowed himself to want. Like he was terrified of the feeling and already grieving it.

You felt the shift like gravity tilting. Like the air changed around you. It was as though the ground beneath you had tipped on its axis.

And suddenly, everything between you was different.

Not unspoken anymore, just unbearable to say aloud.

You felt yourself retreating into the space between what you wanted to feel and what you needed to believe. The part of you that ached wanted to lean forward, close the distance, tell him you felt it too—that terrible, awful, beautiful clarity.

But another part held you back. The part that lived in hospital hallways and stared at name badges and remembered what it meant to be professional. To be younger. A resident. His resident. The part that convinced you it could never be more.

You searched his face, trying to decode what this moment was, or if it had always been there, hiding in quiet coffees and rooftops and restrained glances. And still, he said nothing. Maybe he was waiting. Maybe he didn’t know how to cross that final line either.

So you just sat there in the quiet with him, suspended between the ache and the boundary—between what was true and what you were still too scared to say.

Eventually, you broke. Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed instantly. "For what?"

You shook your head, feeling heat rise behind your eyes. "I don’t know. For not calling for help. For being alone in there. For... allowing this," you gestured between the two of you, "to happen." You sniffled. "For letting myself—"

"Don’t," he cut in sharply, but not unkindly. "Don’t you dare apologize for any of that, you did nothing wrong."

You blinked.

He leaned in slightly, voice steady now, like he needed you to hear every word. "You did everything right. You followed protocol. That man was unstable, and what happened wasn’t your fault."

Your lip trembled, but you didn’t speak.

His voice softened again. "And if this is about me... if you think you’ve done something wrong because of how I feel about you—how I care about you—don’t."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything neither of you knew how to name. It sat heavy between you—thick with the ache of things buried too long and the sharp edges of everything that couldn't be said. You could feel it in your chest, pressing against your ribs and threatening to claw itself out, the unspoken confession of a man who just laid bare more than he meant to, and your own desperate need to pretend you didn’t hear it.

But you had. You’d heard it in his voice, in the way his hands had trembled just slightly when he touched your face, in the way his eyes wouldn’t leave yours even when they should’ve.

And now, as your chest rose and fell too quickly and your heart tried to find steady ground, all the small moments you’d buried—or maybe just refused to examine—rushed back like a crashing wave. His hand guiding yours during your very first incision, firm but not overbearing. The coffees every morning—always your usual, always on time. The time he’d found you on the stairwell after you lost your first patient, sobbing uncontrollably, and he didn’t try to fix it—he just sat there beside you until you could breathe again. The rooftop shifts when you couldn’t quiet your incessant thoughts, he somehow always found you there.

The silence that needed no explanation.

It had always been there. A quiet, steadfast presence. Not loud, not showy—but constant.

And now, undeniable.

And maybe you were still trying to find the line between what had always been there and what had just changed—but the silence was no longer uncertain. It was waiting.

You decided to break it.

"Can I kiss you?" you whispered, eyes searching his, breath catching somewhere in your throat.

Robby didn’t answer. Not with words.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His eyes searched yours, one last moment of hesitation flickering there—one last out, if you wanted it.

But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway.

His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, reverent, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed. His skin was warm against yours, soft in a way that surprised you. Your fingers found his jaw, the roughness of his beard brushing your palms as your hands slid down slowly, until they came to rest at the curve of his neck—right where his pulse thrummed hard beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened a breath later, quiet and aching, full of everything you’d both held back for far too long. His hands rose to cradle your face, holding you like something fragile, like if he wasn’t careful, you might break. His thumbs grazed the corners of your cheekbones, grounding and gentle, anchoring you both in the impossible tenderness of it.

There was nothing hurried about it. Just warmth and softness and the quiet admission of something real. Something that had lived in the silence between you for years.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession.

He let out a breath, rough and shaky against your cheek. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that," he murmured. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges—like the truth cost something to say. And maybe it did.

You pulled back enough to see him clearly, your hands resting on his neck, feeling the steady, trembling pulse beneath your fingertips. He looked at you like the moment might vanish if he blinked.

For years, probably. You just hadn’t let yourself admit it. Not through the early mornings or the long nights. Not even when he stood too close, or when his voice turned soft just for you. Not even when your heart always found him in a crowd. But now, with his breath still warm against your lips and his hands still cradling your face like something precious, you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You’d been his and he'd been yours, long before either of you were brave enough to say it. You pulled back just enough to look at him—really look—and gently stroked his cheek, admiring his freckles like newly formed constellations in the sky.

His eyes drop ever so slightly. "I'm old," he starts. "My work-life balance is absolute shit. You deserve someone who can give you what you need."

You stare at him, puzzled. For a second, you think he’s serious—like he's about to start building walls where they’d only just crumbled.

Then you catch the flicker in his expression. The barely-there smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s only half-serious. Nervous. Teasing you.

You grin, easing the weight with a well-aimed jab. "At least you're not old enough to be my father. And it's not like my hours spent outside work ratio is any better."

He scoffs, ducking his head before shaking it all too lightheartedly.

"And for the record," you add, tapping his chest with a pointed index finger. "This is not some personification of daddy issues, I'll have you know that my father and I have a very healthy relationship."

"Well, that’s a relief," he murmurs, his smile softening as he encloses his fingers around your hand.

You sit back, playful. "I’ll keep you up to date on all the hottest trends the youths engage in. Like cat cafés and strawberry milk matcha lattes. And emotional vulnerability."

He groans, rubbing his face shyly. "God help me."

You grin, careful not to laugh too hard, and lean into him again. "Too late for that, Robinavitch. You’re stuck with me."

"Yeah," he whispered. "I really hope I am."

Outside, the hospital buzzed as it always did—pages overhead, heels echoing on tile, lives beginning and ending behind curtain walls. But for a moment, the noise faded. The only sound was your breathing, his.

And the quiet hum of something long overdue settling into place.

You didn’t know what came next—how this would unfold outside the safety of Room 4, outside of bruises and adrenaline and low-lit confessions. But for now, with his forehead still resting gently against yours, and the weight of unspoken feelings finally aired between you, it didn’t matter.

You had time.

Until a round of cheers and high fives broke the stillness like a confetti cannon bursting into the air.

Both of you jerked apart, startled. Just outside the half-closed door to Room 4 stood a cluster of med students, nurses, residents, and paramedics—huddled together like a peanut gallery, barely containing their glee.

Fire. Fire beneath your cheeks igniting your face like the depths of hell and embarrassment. You buried it in Robby’s chest as he turned around slowly, one hand instinctively coming up to rest on your back as he started to laugh.

Langdon, of course, was the ringleader. He held up a neon orange post-it like a trophy, waving it proudly as the group chuckled and whooped behind him. In black Sharpie were the words:

UNPLANNED CONFESSION - Langdon & King—the bet circled and underlined. And below it: $7/week. Scribbled in tiny pen just beneath that, barely legible, was a date—six months ago.

He high-fived someone out of view next to him just before giving the two of you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like he’d just won the Super Bowl. On cue, Mel stood up from beside him and gave you a quick wave and a shy smile, arms held tightly by her sides.

You groaned, still pressed into Robby's chest. "I swear to God, if they made a bracket—"

"Oh they definitely made a bracket," Robby said, laughing into your hair.

You peeked up at him, still mortified but grinning. "Are we seriously the plot twist in someone’s trauma bay soap opera?"

"Apparently," he muttered, pulling you closer. "Should we give them something to talk about for next week's episode?"

You scoffed, swatting lightly at his chest. "Take me out to dinner first, will you?"

Outside, the group began to scatter—some called back to rounds, others still giggling as they walked off. But you stayed there, tucked into Robby’s side, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chaos. Whatever came next, you’d figure it out. Together.

And if the hospital had front-row seats to your slow-burn becoming a soft landing? So be it.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr. robby #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #dr robby imagine #the pitt spoilers #dr. robby x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt imagine #michael robinavitch imagine

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miaoua3 · 5 months ago

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Stay The Night?

Pairing: CEO! Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: shamless smut (MDNI), piv sex, oral (both receiving), mentions of the ex (ew), hickeys and scratches, no protection (don’t be silly wrap the willy guys, don’t make me smack you all),marking in general, possessive choi seungcheol, smallest amount of spanking, squirting

Description: after spending the night with the CEO and (unsuccessfully) trying to sneak away, Choi Seungcheol asks you to stay the whole day and later on, even the night. Will you say yes?

Basically part 2 to “Stay The Morning?”

Note: late present from me to you for 1000 followers on tumblr and 10k on tiktok🥰🫶 and also because i had the chance of smelling creed aventus aka the perfume cheol uses more regularly than the one i smelled that inspired part one of this and i got the urge to suck this mans dick so….bon appetit🥰

Warnings: yet again barely proofread lol im sorry i just hate doing that

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“take that dress off and get back in here, i want cuddles…and maybe something more.”

and who were you to deny him anything?

well, you were you, and so naturally you cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side as a playful smile spreads on your face, in a mockingly offended voice you said “i’m not taking anything off or letting you anywhere near me until you brush your teeth and feed me something. what, you thought the last night was completely free? you’re a businessman, you should know better honey.”

cheol chuckles deeply as he stretches, the blanket slowly sliding down his bare torso, giving you a delicious view of his chest, ribs becoming more prominent the further he reaches with his hands above his head.

groaning in satisfaction, he then throws the whole blanket off of him before sitting on the edge of the bed, softly messing with his bed hair. looking at you with the cutest smile, he then gets up.

in only his boxers. the muscles all over his body softly flexing. his thighs looking deliciously big as he takes the slow steps towards you.

sweet baby jesus.

the moment he’s standing right in front of you in his naked glory, you feel your throat go dry with need and desire.

well i’ll be damned, i already got my christmas present, and it’s not even december.

almost as if he can sense your thoughts, cheol chuckles deeply before quickly dipping his head lower so he can press a gentle kiss on your neck, his tongue lightly grazing your skin. goosebumps irrupt all over your skin at his action, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as he moves away a little, just enough for his face to end up right in front of your own.

staring at your eyes, his own a deep shade of brown, almost black with desire, cheol slowly exhales, almost like he’s trying to control himself.

stretching to his original height, he then takes ahold of your dress with his fingers, lightly tugging on it.

“you should go take a shower while i make breakfast, this dress must be uncomfortable to wear. i will have someone deliver you some clothes before you’re done in the bathroom.”

you raise an eyebrow, amusement playing in your eyebrows.

“or you could, y’know, give me one of your shirts. like all the normal guys do.”

something dark suddenly appears in his eyes, the little smile that has been tugging on the edges of his lips disappears at your words.

he takes another slow step towards you, so that there’s barely any space left between your warm bodies. looking down on you, he darkly says “i’m not like other men. you should know that until know, baby.”

you swallow hardly, but not out of fear or anything like that.

you swallow because that was so fucking sexy of him.

good lord, i need him again, as soon as possible.

he then slowly kisses your cheek, like a gentleman that he is, before he takes ahold of your hand and starts pulling you out of the bedroom.

“c’mon, i’ll show you where the bathroom is and how everything works. any special wishes for breakfast? anything you prefer or not? allergies? would you like coffee or tea maybe?”

you chuckle at his questions, quickly stopping him to gently kiss his cheek before looking at him with your doe eyes.

“coffee is fine, i’m not that big on breakfast but you have spent all of my energy last night, so maybe something light but filling would be good. and i’m not allergic to anything, not that i know at least. now, before you start to terrorise the kitchen, brush your teeth, romeo.”

you push him through the entrance of the bathroom door, his skin soft and gentle to the touch as you do so.

cheol just chuckles before he starts rummaging through his drawers, finally finding you a spare toothbrush so you both can get rid of the morning breath.

as you stand side by side, dutifully brushing your teeth, you both sneak glances of each other in the mirror.

you eyes focus on his bare chest and how they move with every little movement, how his soft stomach jiggles a bit too, as well as the dark happy trail on his lower stomach. the way his biceps pops put by him holding his arms so high is just as delicious as the rest of him.

his own eyes are trained on your face, how beautiful it looks with barely any makeup from last night left. but also because he’s only a man after all, he lets his eyes also travel down your body, lingering on how your boobs jiggle as you continue brushing your teeth.

what can he say, he’s a weak man.

after you’re done, you kick him out of the bathroom in order to take a quick shower, almost letting a “wanna join me?” slip out of your mouth, but he leaves before you can do as much.

the warm water feels amazing on your aching muscles, relaxing you so much so that you almost fall asleep while standing.

after a few minutes, you finish up in the shower, looking around for the clothes that he promised you, but to no avail.

just as you open the door to yell for help, you notice a bag waiting for you on the doorstep.

opening it, your jaw drops at what you find inside.

white lingerie. with a white slip on and a white silky robe, accompanied by white house slippers.

this sneaky little-

“so, is this what the big-shot and ceo of the prestigious company, choi seungcheol, dreams at night? what he lusts for and what he desires?”, you say as you walk in the kitchen, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you wait for an answer, signaling to your outfit with your head.

cheol just smiles innocently, his eyes just two lines from how wide he’s smiling.

“no, this is what a simple man who you have wrapped around your finger, cheol, dreams of.”

you roll your eyes with a smile at the smoothness of his answer, failing to add anything else to his answer.

he then pulls out a chair and points with his hand for you to sit on it. not used to this type of treatment from men, you almost giggle as you sit down.

he sits right beside you, taking your plate in his hand and slowly filling it with all the food that he made (which is way too much amount of food for two people, or so you think until you see him devour everything like he hasn’t eaten in months.)

you chat lightly as you eat, laughing at some of his very badly made jokes-is the laugh out of pity or because he’s just so cute? you will never tell know.

“so, any plans for today?”, he suddenly asks you.

you look up, pondering for a moment if you had anything planned, but nothings comes to mind.

“no, not really. maybe clean my apartment a bit? haven’t done that in a minute, understandably so.”, you chuckle emotionlessly, thinking about how your heartbreak prevented you from functioning normally.

cheol just gives you a weird look, not understanding why you would say that.

it is in that moment that you realise that he doesn’t know anything that has happened with your ex three weeks ago.

you reluctantly sigh, looking him directly in the eyes. “not to be party pooper, but i actually broke with my ex just a few weeks ago, because i found him cheating on me. with his coworker. in my bed. in my apartment. in my silk sheets. that i paid for. with my money.”

for a second there’s no sound coming from either of you, when you suddenly starts giggling a bit, wiping away a little imaginary tear, you continue “you could say that i’m a bit bitter-“, and then you take a look at him.

cheol just looks at you, or rather somewhere past you, his eyes murderous, hand gripping his fork so tightly it could snap in two any second.

your breath catches in your throat, an unfamiliar emotion overcoming you.

finally looking you directly in the eyes, still with the same look in them, he asks darkly “what’s his name?”

you gulp, looking away as you quietly say “it’s not important, I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

sensing that your mood has changed for the worse, cheol breathes in deeply and then out as a way to calm himself down before taking your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he quietly says “for the record, he doesn’t realise just what hell of a woman he lost. and that his loss is somebody else’s gain, so. he’s stupid, who in their right mind would cheat on you?”.

your eyes move to look at him, his eyebrows scrunched a bit as if this is hurting himself.

you can’t remember the last time that a man went out of his way to make you feel so seen and appreciated. it makes your heart do this weird thing. like it stops beating for a moment but also like it sped up by a big notch.

you smile gently at him before you lean towards him and, for the first time since you two woke up, gently kiss his lips for a moment.

pulling away, you just respond “let’s finish eating before it cools off.”

seungcheol, as if in a daze from your kiss, just nods a bit, a dopey smile taking up half of his face.

you quickly finish up, helping him put the dishes into the washer before he leads you to the humongous leather couch that is right in front of even more humongous tv.

he sits down first, right in the middle of it before he pulls you down. seemingly he had a vision for everything that is happening right now, because before you can even get comfortable, he pulls your legs over his thighs, letting a hand rest on the bare thigh, massaging it lightly as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders, your head falling on his shoulder as he does.

well, okay then you think to yourself as you wrap your own arm around his bare stomach, rubbing his hip gently.

he turns on the tv, more so as a background noise, before he starts asking you all sorts of questions- what your hobbies are, who the two friends from last night were, where you are from as in like the city, you favourite colour and many other questions, the weirdest one being “have you ever thought how the dogs think? like are they barking in their mind, or is it maybe english or korean? or whatever the language of the country they’re in is? what about deaf dogs?”

you spend hours talking and laughing, for the most part you. he tells you the stories of his childhood, stories of his brother and how he accidentally smacked him with a baseball bat on the hand which inevitably ended up being broken, how he fell from the tree, stories about his friends who he met in college and still talks to on the daily, calling them “his kids”, all while he traces the hickeys and bite marks on your neck and shoulders.

you two talk until your mouth gets dry and he fetches you a glass of water for it.

deciding that he should take a shower, he says that you can put whatever you want on the tv and watch it while he does so, saying he won’t take long before he disappears behind the door.

you turn something random on, a documentary you think??? when you suddenly realise that you haven’t been on your phone the entire time, just like you haven’t heard from your friends since the last night.

looking around for it, you find it on the little table in front of the large window, the one you stood in front of as seungcheol kissed you for the first time.

you turn it on to see hundreds of messages and missed calls from jihyo and sana.

the last message from your group chat read “that’s it, if she doesn’t answer in the next 10 minutes, i’m calling the police.”

the message was sent 7 minutes ago.

lucky.

you sheepishly reply with an “heyyy guys haha what’s up”

you immediately get spammed with the messages, variating from “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN” to “WAS THE DICK GOOD”.

i think it’s pretty clear which one of them sent which message.

you respond that you are still at cheol’s to jihyo’s message and that you probably will be home later tonight and that you can meet up then for the detailed story time of your escapades, and you respond with a photo of your collarbones and neck full of hickeys to sana’s message, sending a little wink emoji.

you can see that both of them are losing their minds, writing messages all in cap locks. just as you were about to read them all, you hear the door of the bathroom unlock.

you write a quick “gotta go, the man of the hour is back from his shower, gotta go and make him sweaty again ;)” before turning your phone off and focusing on him.

the sight makes you want get down on your knees and send a quick thank-you prayer to the god.

because there stood cheol, in all his naked and wet glory, black wet hair messily falling on his forehead.

and he only had a towel wrapped around his hips.

you unconsciously bite your lip as you watch him, sitting up straight as you see him walk towards you.

he finally stops right in front of you, his hips on the same level as your face. you go from looking at his happy trail to slowly raising your eyes to look him the eyes, his bulky form towering over you.

his dark eyes are trained on your face, his eyes as dark as midnight as he watches your teeth bite your lips in need.

his hand comes to your face, before his thumb slowly pulls on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

you don’t put any effort in closing your lips, letting them stay agape.

the same thumb starts to rub your lip, lightly dipping inside your mouth, your tongue poking it unconsciously.

suddenly, in the deepest voice ever, he says two words that make you completely lose all your self control.

“pretty girl.”

you grab his arm and pull him down towards you. he gasps in shock as he starts falling down. luckily, he has fast reflexes, so he quickly grabs the backrest of the couch, so he’s bent over you.

you loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you can kiss him.

cheol groans the moment he feels your lips on his, tongue prodding, asking for entrance to his own mouth. he obviously grants it, making your tongues meet in a battle for dominance.

you try pulling him even closer, making him kneel with one knee between your own legs. it is a wonder that the towel still stayed on up until this point. adamant on changing that, you use one hand to harshly pull it away, making his half hard on spring free.

like a woman possessed, you quickly use your hold on his neck to pull him to the side, making him fall on the couch.

just as he adjusts so he’s sitting comfortably on it, you slowly stand up in front of him.

eyes trained on you, unblinking, cheol’s mouth fall open when he sees you taking off the white robe, proceeding to take the white slip off too.

cheol never believed in heaven, but as you stood in front of him, in white matching lacy lingerie, with all of his marks on your body from last night, looking like an angel, he truly started to believe that this is the closest to the heaven that he will get.

reaching with his hands towards you, so he can pull you on his lap, you lightly redirect them, holding them in your own.

you are apparently set on giving this man a heart attack at ripe age of 29, because you then proceed to drop to your knees.

right in front of him, between his legs.

with his hard dick right in front of your face.

his dark eyes, pupils blown with desire, trace every movement you make.

you first adjust your hair a bit, so it’s not getting in your way, looking at him with what he can only describe as hunger of a lioness.

keeping the eye contact, you slowly lick the whole palm of your hand, making sure that it’s extra wet with saliva.

cheol gulps.

the moment that that very same hand wraps around his dick, he’s throwing his head back, a loud gasp escaping him at how sensitive it feels. his back comes off the couch, hand looking for anything to grasp on, only finding his towel instead.

you pump him a few times, looking at him, focused solely on his face, to see how he’s reacting to your touch-to you.

his eyes flutter shut, a groan rumbling somewhere from the depths of his chest, his torso expanding with every deep breath he has to take in order to control himself and not cum on your face this very second.

god, that last thought didn’t help him, at all.

you pump his dick some more, your hand not even being able to wrap itself around his dick fully, making you shiver at the thought of having the very same dick inside of you later.

deciding that enough is enough, you slowly lower your face when he’s not paying attention, until your lips wrap themselves around the head of his cock.

cheol moans the second he feels your wet mouth on him.

his eyes barely open themselves, he basically forces himself to keep them open, watching as you slowly push your head down more and more, until half of his dick is inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you pull back up.

you repeat the motion a few times just as slowly as you did the first time, enjoying his moans and groans every time the head of his dick hits the back of your throat.

deciding that you want him to be a complete mess, you start bobbing your head faster, hand wrapping itself around the base that your mouth can reach.

god, do you love the fact that his dick is so big you can’t even suck it fully.

something you certainly couldn’t say about your ex.

your mouth engulfs him, the wetness of it making him see stars. and when your tongue does that little things where it first wraps around the head, before sliding along his slit, right where he’s the most sensitive?

cheol sends a prayer up in hopes that he won’t cum right this second.

a strand of hair falls into your face, making you scrunch your face in mild annoyance.

seungcheol jumping to opportunity, quickly gathers all of your hair in his hand, making a ponytail out of it.

and as you go on, bobbing your head up and down his dick, saliva sliding down til it reaches his balls. cheol uses his grip on your hair to control your movements, moving your head in fast pace. you choke repeatedly as his dick hits the back of your throat, and seungcheol seems to like that very much, letting out a groan every time he feels your throat close around the tip of his dick.

as tears stream down your face, you feel yourself being so wet, you fear you might start dripping all over his carpet.

god, you truly hope you aren’t, because that is one dry cleaners you cannot afford.

you watch his beautiful face, head thrown back, long and black eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lips red from him biting on them to suppress his moans.

he’s so beautiful, if you could, you would stay right here, between his legs, just so you can watch his face in pleasure.

“fuck, baby, that mouth. you’re gonna make me cum, ah, shit. look so pretty on your knees for me, sucking on this cock.”, he raps out, every few words interrupted either by a moan or a groan.

you feel him move your head even faster, as well as his hips buckling upwards, a clear sign that he’s close.

“shit, gonna cum in that mouth of yours, ah fuck, baby- you gotta- gotta stop if you don’t want to swallow it- i- ah-.” he continues to blab, but you don’t pay him any mind, focusing on sucking the head every time he moves your head upwards, and tracing the little vein with your tongue every time he pushes it back downwards.

his moans get louder, his hold on your hair gets tighter, hips stuttering as he’s right there, on the brink of cumming.

you remove your mouth completely away from his dick, immediately replacing it with your hand. looking him directly in the eyes, you say the words that finally push him over the edge.

“cum for me baby, all over my face.”

and that does it for him, spurts of pearly white cum falling on your cheeks, nose and lips. the last few drops you catch with your mouth, wrapping your lips around his sensitive head again in favour of swallowing every last drop of his cum, making sure that nothing is wasted and that he’s as clean as possible.

he moans loudly at your action, pulling your head away because he can’t endure the delicious torture.

you both pant, his chest moving up and down fast, beads of sweat gathered around the crown of his head.

you take the opportunity to finally take a deep breath in, feeling a little bit lightheaded due to being deprived of real oxygen for this long.

cheol slowly opens his mouth, looking at the artwork that is your beautiful face decorated with his cum. with a thumb, he swipes a bit of it away, holding it in front of your mouth as an offer.

you don’t hesitate a second before you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking on it like it’s the most delicious thing you have ever tasted.

cheol groans at the sight, quickly using the same hand to wrap it around the back of your neck, pulling you upwards so that he can kiss you. his tongue invades your mouth, massaging your own in such an erotic way it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

with the other hand, he reaches for your thigh, wrapping around the back of it and pulling on it. you gasp at the sheer strength of this man, because he lifts you up from the floor solely by the hold he has on your leg. for a second, you fly through the air, until your knee finds the couch.

you quickly straddle him, careless sitting down on his lap, his dick rubbing against the lacy material of your panties. he gasps at the sensation, still sensitive from the best head he has ever gotten from a woman.

in order to save his dignity, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so your hips lift a bit from his dick, his lips still eagerly kissing, biting and sucking on your lips as he does so.

your hands find their home on his cheeks, holding his handsome face as you kiss him back just as enthusiastically.

at some point, after a few minutes, your lips naturally separate, but they stay close. panting in each others mouth, you use your hold on his cheeks to lightly brush your thumbs against them in comfort.

he takes a deep breath before he says in a hoarse voice “fuck baby, even though you look like an angel, that mouth of yours is so devilish.”

a giggle escapes you, leaving a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

he takes the towel to wipe the remains of his cum off your face before he directs your head so it’s resting on his shoulder, leaving a fleeting kiss on your neck.

“gimme a few minutes baby, i will eat you out then so good, you’re gonna cry.”

and your only response is the shiver that runs down your spine.

for a few moments you just sit there on his lap, playing with his hair while his hands rub your back, lips leaving kisses every few seconds across your shoulders and neck.

you breathe in the smell of his shower gel and his natural smell, mixing in a way that it makes your eyes flutter shut on their own.

that’s another thing, you never found anyone to smell so good like you find cheol does. something about his natural smell is just so…him, and manly, and makes you feel safe and protected.

you wish you could stay here forever.

suddenly cheol’s kisses on your neck start to linger a bit longer, a bit wetter, and his hands start to stray a little bit more on your ass than usual.

you shift slightly just to get more comfortable as your legs started cramping, when you feel his half hard on. your mouth fall open upon realising that it’s showtime.

ever so slowly, you move your hips back, almost dragging your clothed pussy over his bare dick, making him inhale deeply at your action.

he lightly nibbles on the shell of your ear, before whispering directly against it “you little devil.”

you turn your head towards him, looking all innocent and coy as you say “but i thought i was an angel according to your previous statement?”

cheol narrows his eyes, before taking your thighs in his hand and picking you up slightly so he can basically slam you against the couch.

you gasp at the action, adrenaline filling your veins more so than the blood does.

he hovers over you, his hands caging you as he leans on them right beside your head.

you look at each other for a second, waiting to see who will play the first move, when suddenly, cheol rolls his hips right into your own, his dick catching on the lace of your panties.

you gasp at the action, nails immediately imbedding themselves into his back, eyes rolling so far back in your head you can see your thoughts.

“bad, bad girl. trying to play all innocent…”, he pauses before he leans even more in, so his lips are right against your ear again “…when just a few minutes ago you were choking on my dick, so prettily and desperately.”

unconsciously you inhale deeply, making him smirk a bit.

“what, don’t tell me you’re still thinking about it? still not satisfied? cumming down your throat wasn’t enough for you?”, and the condescending voice, the smirk, the satisfaction in his voice.

it pissed you off a bit.

harshly grabbing the back of his head, your nails digging into his scalp as you pull him in a harsh kiss, your other hand purposefully dragging your nails down his back, which makes him shiver.

you break the kiss off just as harshly before you answer to his question “no, i’m still not satisfied, so you better get to it, before i found somebody who is willing to do it.”

his eyes turn black with jealousy, fire lighting up in them. within milliseconds, he’s grabbing your neck and kissing you just as harshly as you kissed him, teeth biting harshly on your lips.

you moan as he continues to kiss you, almost like he wants to prove a point to you. teeth clashing, hands clawing at each other, his hand around your neck squeezing tighter and tighter, making you wrap your legs around his hips tighter and pull him into yourself as he does so.

he pulls away aggressively, and his next words sounding like a fact, like it’s written in the stars, linger in the air for a second.

“even if you wanted to, you could never find somebody who would fuck you as good as i do.”

eyes laser focused on each other, you just utter two words as a response.

“prove it.”

getting right to it, his mouth attaches itself on your neck, sucking even more hickeys to the pre-existing ones from last night. while his mouth is busy with marking your skin, his hand wiggles under your back, fishing for the bra clasp. once he finds it, he quickly undoes it, pulling it down your arms before throwing it somewhere over his shoulder with no care whatsoever, even when it sounds like it crashed into what suspiciously sounds like the vase he got from one of his business partners.

choosing not to care, he lets his lips travel from your neck, to your collarbones, over the navel of your breast, straying to one side so he can suck on one of your tits, softly biting your nipple that causes you to moan loudly and grasp his hair in your hands.

he does it for a few more seconds, letting his hand massage the tit that isn’t getting the same attention as the one in his mouth, before resumes kissing a trail down your body.

once he gets down to you hips, he looks up to you over his short bangs that are getting in his eyes. the said eyes look at you like a hawk, preying on you, excited to see your anticipation and shiny eyes looking back at him.

he just lets his lips and nose travel of the skin of your lower belly, making it flex from the tickling sensation. once they reach your left hip, he lets his lips envelope the skin there and suck on it, a hickey forming on its place.

letting his lips pop, he looks up at you as he lets his head move even lower, until his lips are hovering right over the lacy panties you are wearing.

you hold your breath as you wait to see what he next move will be.

god, you hope to god that he will just-

just as the thought crossed your mind, cheol puts his opened mouth over your clothed pussy, prodding at the covered slit with his tongue, paying the special attention to your clit. the fabric that is still on you makes his action all that more stimulating, making you throw your head back as you moan.

hands fly to his still wet hair, pulling on it harshly, maybe in hopes that you can pull him in deeper, make his tongue finally enter your hole.

almost as if he can read your mind, he pushes your underwear to the side with the two of his fingers. the moment he sees your pussy, glistening with wetness, his lips are on you, parting your lips with his tongue, entering your pussy. he swirls his tongue around the entrance, gathering all your precum before swallowing it all, moaning at the taste.

quickly he starts pulling on your underwear, mumbling something along the lines off “off, off, i need these off now.”, before he throws them over his shoulder too.

placing your legs so they are resting on his shoulders, he immediately prods with one of his fingers at your whole, letting your walls swallow it whole. his lips wrap themselves around your clit, sucking on it just the right way.

you close your eyes in pleasure, your desires finally being fulfilled just like you dreamed of them to be.

not only was choi seungcheol a walking dream, sex appeal on legs.

he was also between your legs.

he continues to fuck his finger in you, twisting his hand when he’s pushing it in and un-twisting it when pulling out.

after a minute or so, he pulls the finger completely out in favour of pushing two back in. you squeeze your thighs around his head as he does so, moaning his name.

“cheol…”

choosing to ignore you, he just speeds up his movements, tongue still playing with your clit.

you taste so good on his tongue, it makes cheol close his eyes and groan every time he swallows.

the longer he eats you out, the more careless and messy he gets. he lets saliva cover your whole pussy, almost dripping on his leather couch. he lets his fingers push in and out of you at merciless speed, the fingertips grazing your sweet spot every time he tries to reach deeper inside of your pussy.

it all makes you feel lightheaded, moaning mess, your back arch, so much so that your whole upper body almost lifts off the couch.

“ah! cheol, more, ple-please!”

cheol never one to deny his lady anything, just speeds up his motion, sucking on your clit while his tongue pries at your entrance along with his fingers.

just as you feel yourself on the brink of cumming, your moans getting so loud they ring inside of cheol’s ears, he pulls completely away, slowly getting on his knees to admire the mess that he made of you.

tears streaming down your cheeks, your hair making it look like you have a halo around your head.

your chest heave up and down as you try to regain some of the air, nipples rock hard under his gaze.

your skin so prettily lathered with the hickeys, marking what’s his.

cheol just then realises that he started calling you his inside his head, no other reason other than the fact that you earlier mentioned the possibility of going to other men to get what you want.

he will be damned before he lets that happen.

and then your pussy. god, it looks so pretty, glistening under the light, his spit mixed with your juices, smeared all around your lips and thighs.

cheol was never that interested in art that much, but he’s pretty sure that this-you, is what a masterpiece is supposed to look like.

he suddenly realises that you have been calling his name the entire time, whining and almost crying in frustration-in need.

“cheollie please just-just fuck me already.”, you say as you pull on him with the hold of your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips.

he immediately leans down over you, caging you with his arms around your head, his lips immediately finding yours in a hungry kiss.

just as his hand reaches down to take his dick so he can finally push it inside your gaping pussy, he suddenly remembers.

fuck, he forgot the condom.

humming in your mouth, he mumbles against them “wait baby, I forgot the condom, let me just get it from the-“, but he feels your legs just tighten around his waist, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, preventing him from getting up.

you mumble through a kiss “if you get up now, i will cry and make myself cum, all without you.”

well, alright then.

cheol just groans at the thought of having his dick in your pussy, with no condom to get in the way of truly feeling the wetness of your pussy.

little to excitedly, he takes his dick in his hand, and for a second just teases your folds with his tip, sliding it up and down, catching on your clit as he pulls it down.

as you start whining softly in desperation, telling him “hurry up” in a soft voice, cheol decides that it’s time.

and then he’s pushing in.

you both gasp at the feeling- you at the mere girth of his cock, and he because of how wet it feels to have his dick in your pussy.

he pushes a bit more in, but once he feels resistance due to you clamping on him almost painfully, he just kisses your cheeks in comfort, mumbling against them “relax baby or i won’t be able to give you all of my cock.”

you breathe in and out in hopes that it will help you relax, and it does, with help of his kisses and his hand rubbing your waist in comfort.

after a minute or so, you nod as a way to tell him that it’s okay for him to move. he continues to pepper little kisses on your face as he pushes his dick more in, groaning every so often at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

when he finally bottoms out, cheol lets a big breath out, relieved that he didn’t cum, which he felt multiple times almost happen due to your tight little pussy milking him so much.

i can’t, not yet, she has to cum first before i do.

with that thought, he starts to slowly rock his hips, making a fluid motion out of it. he feels his tip grazing your sweet spot, which makes you gasp and moan lightly, as well as rocking your hips into his a little bit.

you turn your face towards him, your eyes telling him clearly what you want from him.

he immediately kisses you, tongues dancing a beautiful and harmonious dance for a second and then pulling away just to do the same not even a second later.

he continues with the slow pace, rolling hips so professionally it makes you second-guess his profession.

but once you breathlessly whisper “more” against his lips, he’s doubling his pace, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs.

you stop kissing him in favour of moaning directly in his face, which seungcheol seems to enjoy just as much as your kisses.

“feels good, baby? yeah? fuck, you moan so prettily, all for me, only for me, hm? nobody fucks you as good as i do right? the same way nobody begs for my dick as beautifully as you do.”

you try to focus on his words and to answer him, you truly do, but his cock filling your pussy, sliding in and out of you, and hitting your spot repeatedly makes you forget all and every thought, only being able to respond “yes yes yes” over and over.

he groans as your pussy pulses around him, making him quicken his pace even more, his hips and balls slapping almost violently against your skin.

the words keep leaving from his mouth, but you’re just too focused on enjoy him fucking you like nobody has ever before, that you don’t even answer a question he asked you.

seungcheol doesn’t like that.

he stops his hips from moving, and as you open your mouth to complain, he quickly leaves a strong spank on the side of your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth instead.

“i said- is this my pussy, pretty girl? nobody can fuck you the way i do, hm?”

his eyes as black as obsidian, looking for an answer in your tear filled ones.

you nod your head, moaning as you try to rock your hips into his.

cheol doesn’t like that either.

he spanks you one more time, just as hard, a little scream escapes you as he does. “use your words baby, or i won’t make you cum.”

you nod as you respond “yes, yes, only you can, nobody ever fucked me so good as you.”

he kisses you quickly, tongue teasing your lips for a second before pulling away to ask “who does this pussy belong to baby? remind me again.”, he finishes with another spank to your cheek.

you moan as you desperately respond “yours, belongs to you, only you, p-please stop teasing me-“.

before you can continue, he starts fucking you again, hips slamming into you that you feel yourself move upwards on the couch from the mere force.

you scream as he rocks his hips, tears freely falling from your eyes now. you don’t even realise just how tight your nails have imbedded themselves into his back, pretty sure that you are drawing blood from them.

not that cheol seems to mind, he just groans at every little thing you give him, groaning “yes baby, just like that” in your ear.

still, deciding to spare him an ER visit, you switch to pulling on his hair instead.

which seems to be an even better thing, because he in return moans so loudly, eyes scrunched up in pleasure as you do so.

“fuck baby, don’t do that or i’ll cum right now right inside you.”

the thought makes you bite your lips, as well as clam your walls even tighter around him.

he notices this, causing a little smirk to play on the edge of his lips. “oh? would my pretty girl like that? for me to cum inside you? to cream your walls? hm?”

he looks carefully for your reaction, hoping that he isn’t crossing any lines with what he’s saying. but as you nod your head quickly, desperately saying “please! please please please please cum, cum inside of me-“, he just groans, the thought of cumming inside you, painting your walls white while your pussy takes in every last drop makes him almost cum right there and there.

seeing that he can’t go on for much longer, he lets his fingers find your clit, rubbing it just as fast as he’s fucking you, putting on just the littlest of pressure on it, knowing that it’s enough to make you finish.

your scream echoes through the room, hands pulling on his soft but wet hair like a maniac, feeling your end nearing at rapid pace.

“i need you to cum for me princess, now, fuck, cream on it baby, lemme feel you-“

and it’s done, with a cry, you throw your head back, your thighs squeeze his hips and you cum. you cum so hard that you squirt a little all over his thighs, making a mess out of him.

he, seemingly also almost there, just needs a little bit of your help, mainly just you saying “cum, please, cum inside me, need it so bad cheollie-“, he thrusts once, twice before he’s cumming inside of you, moaning in your face as he does so.

rocking his hips for a bit, to make sure that every last drop of his cum is fucked deeply inside of your pussy, he then drops his whole dead body onto your own, his legs shaking from how hard his orgasm hit him.

although he is a bit heavy, you don’t complain at all, instead hugging him even closer, welcoming his bulky body to squish you. it’s almost like it makes you feel grounded, as well as helping you clear up your mind, haziness due to your own finish clearing up the longer he lays there on you.

you two just breathe heavily for a minute, trying to regain your breaths as you rub his back, while his lips softly kiss your neck and cheeks.

he turns your face to his own so that he can kiss you gently, rubbing his thumb on your cheek in comfort.

he breaks the kiss off, his boba eyes looking at you as he gently asks “are you okay baby?”

you just nod your head with a tired smile.

“i didn’t overdo it, right? everything was okay? wasn’t too much?”

your smile spreads a big wider as you whisper “it was perfect…you are perfect.”

he smiles a little before softly pecking your lips, stopping only at one kiss in favour of whispering back “you are the one that’s perfect…my baby.”

you just loop your hands around his neck to pull him towards you, kissing him deeply and slowly, letting all your feelings and words you don’t trust to say out loud speak for themselves through that kiss.

after a minute or so, you feel his dick slowly get hard again, making you realise that he hasn’t pulled out the entire time.

you softly say “sorry about the mess i made on your couch.”

cheol just chuckles as he responds “i could care less about the couch, especially not after i just had you squirt all over it.”

you shyly hide your face in his neck, groaning in embarrassment as he chuckles some more.

suddenly, he grabs your thighs before going to slowly stand up, all while still holding your body wrapped around his.

you gasp as you get picked up, clamping onto his dick as you feel the shift in the angle.

cheol just groans as he starts carrying you towards his room, spanking your ass one more time as he walks.

“i’m not done with you yet.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

after two more rounds of wild and fast sex, you two lay there on his bed, both on your sides as you face each other, a thin blanket covering your bodies as the sweat on your bodies starts to slowly cool off.

seungcheol just looks at your face, almost like he’s in awe that a woman like you is truly in his bed and that has given him a chance, running the back of his finger up and down your cheek as you two quietly talk in what now has turned a dark room. the night slowly crept on you two, which you didn’t even realise until you fell onto the bed after you had just finished riding him into oblivion.

night, which reminds you…

you should slowly go home now.

you push his silky black hair back, looking at his youthful face and small smile.

god he’s so beautiful, I want to see him again.

you smile small, a little bit of bittersweetness visible in it, as you say quietly“i should probably go home soon.”

his mood sours immediately, a pout replacing the smile on his cherry red lips.

the arm that has been wrapped around your waist under the blanket tightens, pulling you closer to his body, almost likes he’s trying to prevent you from getting up.

ever so quietly, he whispers in the mostly dark room “do you have to?”.

the lamp that is turned on and is your only source of light illuminates his handsome face, eyes sparkling from the said light, begging you not to go.

you smile sadly as you respond “i should.”

he stays quiet for a second, teeth gnawing on his lip as he thinks about your words.

you just lean in to leave one last kiss on his lips, letting your presence and smell linger for a bit before you pull away and start to get up.

as you are sitting on the edge of the bed, looking for your things, you hear him shuffle behind you, but don’t pay him any attention, thinking that he’s probably just going to walk you out.

which quickly changes once you feel his arms wrap around your hips from behind, face nuzzling in your neck.

you turn your head to look at him surprised, the top his head only greeting you in return.

he tightens his hug around your waist, his legs spread so that you’re basically sitting between them.

and then, in the quietest and most unsure voice he asks you.

“stay? please? tomorrow is sunday after all…and-and I don’t want you to leave… i don’t want this to be over yet…”

you unconsciously start pouting yourself at his voice, heart breaking at how sad he sounds that you have to go.

you fish with your point finger for his chin, saying a little “cheollie, look at me, please baby.”

after a second or two, he lifts his head from your shoulder, face red from the lack of oxygen.

you smile a little at him before you say “okay, i’ll stay, but tomorrow i really need to go, because i have work on monday and i can’t miss it.”

you pause for a second to gulp your nervousness down before continuing “and…”

he just looks at you with puppy eyes, seeing you get flustered in real time, but doesn’t say anything to interrupt you.

you just look at him a bit embarrassed as you finish “…who says that this has to end?”

cheol just blinks for a second before the implication of your words finally delivers in his head, making a big smile explode on his face.

quickly kissing you, he lets your bodies fall back on the bed, his arms still tightly wrapped around you, making it hard for you to turn around so you can kiss him properly.

god, choi seungcheol, what are you doing to me?

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #fypシ #tumblr fyp #fypage #fluff #scoups #choi seungcheol #smut #scoups x reader #scoups seventeen #choi seungcheol x reader #seventeen imagines

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beforetimes · 2 months ago

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au with disciple shen yuan and shizun luo binghe is a classic but i need it with luo binghe going through the worst depressive episode known to man when shen yuan transmigrates. he sees this intimidating otherworldly figure he's read about and realizes that his shizun is just a complete mess who's been isolating himself and getting more and more irritable and miserable and depressed. he decides to make it his goal to try and coax him out of the bamboo house because no one ever really sees luo binghe anymore outside of when he travels for peak lord meetings.

in my head everything else is the same except for shen yuan and luo binghe switching roles entirely. shen yuan is a half-demon antagonist meant to be defeated by luo binghe after being pushed down the abyss and returning to get revenge but shen yuan just tells himself over and over that if he gets on luo binghe's good side surely everything will be okay? because the system won't let him leave cang qiong mountain and wander the world as a rogue cultivator and he knows that the immortal alliance conference if where everything is going to fall apart. so he's convinced himself that he just needs to game the plot by fixing shen qingqiu's reputation and his relationship and things will be fine. surely!!

and, like, it gets off to a rocky start. luo binghe throws him out of the bamboo house for about two weeks straight before finally snapping at him and asking what his deal is, to which shen yuan lets him know that the other disciples just haven't seen him in so long and they've all been worried and shen yuan just wants to make sure he's okay. and shen yuan knows he's playing the scum villain disciple but he isn't aware of the fact that this sounds so out of character coming from shen qingqiu that it snaps luo binghe out of this dissociative state he's been in for the past few months.

all of a sudden shen yuan's a sort of pet project for luo binghe. his shizun keeps inviting him into the bamboo house and probing him for seemingly benign answers to random questions, getting to know him, etc. and shen yuan thinks that wow his plan is working so well all the other disciples are saying this is the most they've seen him in the past few years. showing up to classes and everything! (of course, they're only shen yuan's classes)

eventually the investigation on luo binghe's part calms down and he hasn't figured out the truth of the matter but shen qingqiu is, all of a sudden, so much more interesting and alluring than he was when he first dragged himself up to qing jing peak a few years ago!

and what starts as a morbid obsession with a puzzle piece that seems out of place slowly moulds into like. genuine fondness on luo binghe's part. because even after the appropriate amount of time where shen yuan could go back to his regular routine and forget about needling luo binghe without seeming rude, he sticks with him anyway! always pulling him away from paperwork after hours to remind him to eat, offering to brush his hair, painting him fan's and landscapes under the guise of practice for class.

(of course, shen yuan's just! fanboying a tad! luo binghe was probably his favourite protagonist he's ever read about, only downside being the unfortunate novel he happened to be written into with the world's most unnecessary harem)

but yes. luo binghe goes through the five stages of grief before becoming inexplicably obsessed with his cute disciple and shen yuan is more than happy to dote on his favourite protagonist under the guise of getting on his good side.

there are still bumps in the road. luo binghe is stubborn and unwilling to look past the somewhat simple view of the world he's constructed in his head of demons being evil. he knows cultivators aren't all angels but the former is common sense, obviously. and he has a temper that flares in a way that makes shen yuan's body flinch in a well-practiced way. shen yuan has his bouts of intense anxiety and depression and brief near-psychosis at remembering the fact that he will have to lose all this if his crackpot half-plan doesn't work. and even if it does he'll still have to go down the abyss and he's just not ready for it, he doesn't think he'll ever be ready, not when his shizun won't be there with his kind eyes and steady form of comfort and command keeping him safe and anchored to the world. but the world keeps turning and so they both keep going until the day comes.

it's a shitshow. shen yuan's seal gets removed and luo binghe watches the demonic energy pour out of him, so numb it feels like he's been stuck in a winter snowstorm for an hour. shen yuan is pleading, desperate, forgetting half the words he tried scripting years in advance because he's at the edge of a cliff to hell and the one person he hoped would believe in him enough not to push him down there is staring at him like he's a stranger. and disciples are still screaming in the distance and the earth is quaking and the system is screaming at him while shen yuan's resolve crumbles and he starts to come to the conclusion that luo binghe will kill him here. he will. and luo binghe is just trying to breathe while he watches his kind and clever, mischievous disciple break down into tears in a way he has never seen before in his life. it sends icicles through his heart. and shen yuan is pleading but when luo binghe comes forward, sword in hand, he can't stop himself from grabbing the blade with his bare palms out of some sort of desperation. hoping and praying that just holding onto the metal means luo binghe won't try to cut his head off.

and it doesn't even matter in the end because luo binghe barely gets a word out before the ground crumbles beneath shen yuan's feet and luo binghe flinches forward, reaching out for him only to push him backwards into the gorge because of the sword that still solidly held by shen yuan, slicing through his skin.

and shen yuan falls. and luo binghe watches. and when liu qingge and yue qingyuan find him after the dust has settled, he looks too much like he did all those years ago, eyes blank and his prized disciple's spirit sword held in his hands, limp. alone again, after a taste of a life that could have been brighter.

masterpost

#svsss #svsss au #mxtx svsss #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #disciple shen yuan #shizun luo binghe #shen yuan x luo binghe #sqq #lbh #svsss headcanon #svsss fic #scum villain au #scum villain #scum villans self saving system #milez writing #bingqiu #milez's role swap au

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

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I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #New Neighbors #Part 1 #Danny and his ghosts move to Gotham.#Oc's pov #Frostbite adopts Danny #The rest of the ghosts just tagged along for fun.#Bruce hired the VERY knoweldgable doctor for the second free clinic. So what it's a yeti?

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ofstarsandvibranium · 8 months ago

Text

Don’t Mess with My Girl

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You come home from work and you make the mistake of telling Bucky that a guy has been harassing you at work.

Warning: harassment from a male coworker

A/N: the snippets of Bucky in the Thunderbolts trailer have ignited my love for him again omfg.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky's already home when you arrive from work. You let out an exhausted sigh as you place your things on the kitchen island and kiss Bucky's cheek, "Hi, lovey."

He hums and looks at your slumped figure, "What's wrong?" he asks with furrowed brows, concern written all over his face.

"Just a rough day at work," you reply, opening up the dishwasher to grab a cup and snort as you see Bucky's metal prosthetic resting inside.

You turn back to him, "Explain," you say pointing at his arm.

He gives a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Today was a bit messy, is all." You chuckle and roll your eyes. You grab a cup from the top rack of the dishwasher and grab Bucky's arm, laying it on the counter.

"What happened today?" you ask as you fill your cup with water from the fridge.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope. I asked you a question first," he walks over to you and cups your face with his right hand, "What's made my girl all upset?"

You groan, "A new hire, Noah. He's very...persistent."

"Persistent how?"

You shrug, "He just keeps asking me out, getting a little too close-"

"Fire him," Bucky immediately says.

You groan, "But he's a good employee!"

"Doesn't matter if he keeps harassing you."

"I wouldn't say he's harassing me..."

Bucky cocks a brow and places his hand on his hip in a very intimidating manner, "Does he get aggressive when you reject him?"

"...yes."

"Is he constantly berating you and not taking no for an answer?"

"...yeah."

"Does he scare you?"

"A little bit."

"Baby, that's harassment," he says as he walks over to his metal arm, placing it onto the notch and locking it in. He looks down and flexes his arm, "I can take care of him for you, easily. The fellas and I can grab him and-"

You immediately wave your hands and shake your head, "No, no, no. No! Don't hurt him! I'll-I'll handle it. I'll talk to Joan and let her know what's been going on."

"Good and if that doesn't stop him then, I'll pay him a visit," you give him a playful shove and he chuckles, "What? No one messes with my girl and gets away with it!"

____________________________

As soon as you got into the bookshop the next day, you immediately tell Joan of Noah's behavior. When he comes in, Joan pulled him aside to talk to him. You thought that everything would be good after that...but you were wrong.

When you were in the back, putting books away, Noah corners you, "Did you really have to tell Joan our business?"

You can't help but scoff at his audacity, "Well you wouldn't stop asking me out after I said no and reminding you that I have a boyfriend."

It's Noah's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, your boyfriend," he says with air quotes, "You say you have one but you don't have him as your lockscreen and you haven't showed any pictures of him."

"He's a private person, but that's not the point! I told you 'no'! You should've stopped after that."

Noah rolls his eyes, "Oh just because someone says 'no', doesn't mean they mean it! Means they want you to try harder."

"Actually, it just means 'no' and you fuck off," a deep voice cuts in-between the confrontation between you and Noah.

Both of you turn to see Bucky standing there with a hard glare on his face.

You gulp, "Bucky, what're you doing here?"

He holds up your lunch bag, "You forgot your lunch at home," he holds it out and you rush over to him, grabbing the bag and remaining at his side.

Noah looks at Bucky with wide eyes and then at you. His face loses color as he realizes, "W-Wait, you-you're dating the White Wolf of Brooklyn?"

Bucky smirks at his nickname, "Yeah, she is. And my girl told me you wouldn't leave her alone. Sounds like even with your job on the line, you still don't seem to get the hint." He slips off his blazer, handing it off to Steve. He then starts rolling up the sleeve of his metal arm, the dim lighting of the book shop reflecting off its metal plates.

"I can definitely figure out a way to get the message through to you."

Noah stutters out a response, "N-No. Th-That's not necessary, s-sir. I-I won't bother, Y/N again, I promise."

Bucky hums, "If I see or hear you harassing my girl or anyone else, I'll make sure your body will never be found again. Scum like you don't deserve second chances, but I'm feeling a little gracious today."

Noah nods, "Thank you. I-I won't behave like that ever again."

"Good. Now apologize to Y/N," he nods to you.

Noah gulps and stutters out an apology. You simply reply with a nod and Noah scurries away.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. You look at Bucky, "Thanks."

He shrugs, "Anyone gives you a problem, they have to go through me," he mumbles pecking your lips.

"Y/N, do you know why Noah suddenly qui-ah," Joan turns the corner to see you and Bucky. The older woman puts her hands on her hips and gives Bucky a scolding look, "Barnes, what did you do?"

Bucky shrugs, "Just gave him a warning, ma'am. He shouldn't have been treatin' my girl like that!"

"Very true, but you know I don't condone violence in my shop."

He holds his hands up, "No violence happened, ma'am. Just a little threatenin'." Joan looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

She sighs, "Very well. Guess I need to look for another employee again."

An idea came to mind, "Actually, I know someone!"

______________

"Seriously, Y/N, I owe you one for this!" the young brunette exclaims as he follows you with a box of books in his arms.

You chuckle, "It's no problem, Peter. Besides, we both get something out of this. You're doing a much safer job like your Aunt May and Tony wanted and you get to keep an eye on me for Bucky. It's a win-win situation."

The bell above the shop's door rings and Peter immediately places the box of books down, "I got it!" he rushes to the front, "Hi, welcome to-oh! Y/N!" Peter's voice echoes through the store.

You shelf a book and head to the front, "Yeah?" you break out into a smile as you see Bucky there.

"Hey!" you approach him, giving a little wave to Steve, who stands behind him. Steve waves back, but says nothing else. You wrap your arms around Bucky and peck his lips, "What's up?"

"Had a meeting at Wanda's shop, brought some pastries for you, Joan, and the kid," he hands over the maroon pastry box with Wanda's logo on it.

"Yay! Here, Peter," you hand it off to the young man and he jaw drops, "Oh, sweet! Thanks, Mr. Barnes!" and he heads into the back to share the pastries with Joan.

Bucky places his hands on your waist, "How's he doin'?"

You chuckle, "Fine. He's very enthusiastic and a hard worker. Plus, he doesn't hit on me because he's in love with MJ."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Jones' kid? Pft. Good luck, Parker."

You giggle and then back away, "Alright, big mob boss, I need to get back to work."

"Fine. But seriously though, you feel better? Safer?"

You nod, "I do. Thank you," you kiss his cheek and he softens, "Like I said, no one messes with my girl," he gives you a wink and wave as he exits the book shop.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mob boss au

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importantpuppystarfish · 4 months ago

Text

Total Mass Destruction of Wonyoung!

Male reader or Y/N x Wonyoung

Warning: Very much hardcore & rough, humiliation, degrading, whipping, BBC, extreme deepthroat, total mess in facefucking, pissing & gangbang (in pt2)

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, this can be uncomfortable to read so if ur weak hearted or a fluff enjoyer, typically do not read.

part one:

Wonyoung, the gorgeous Kpop idol, with her stunning visuals and captivating stage presence, she has millions of adoring fans around the world.

But she has a naughty secret - she's obsessed with big black cock. Her stash of videos consists entirely of BBC gangbangs. She fantasizes constantly about being stuffed and breed by multiple strong black men. Her skinny Korean frame aches to feel the immense girth and length only they can provide. Yet she keeps this side of herself hidden from her cutesy idol image.

While in the US for her group's performances, Wonyoung can't hold her curiosity any longer. She decides to go to a popular nightclub known for bringing out the biggest, blackest cocks in town. Her heart races thinking about finally living out her fantasy. She slips out of the hotel after wearing a revealing outfit to show off her famous figure, ready for anything.

Wonyoung is not a virgin anymore and has already been intimate with her own family members, satisfying her brother and father already. Now she burns with desire for something new - the bbc which she sees in porn videos.

She sees a huge smart guy approaching her. He's wearing a suit and handsome.. The guy welcomes Wonyoung to the area and asks her if she is new and where is she from.

Wonyoung's heart leaps as she spots the imposing figure of the well-dressed, rich-looking black man. She steps closer to make out his deep, rumbling voice.

"Oh I just arrived here from Korea," Wonyoung responds sweetly with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. "My name is Wonyoung. And you?"

She can feel something stir behind his suit as he looks down at her body up and down. A knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Pleasure to meet the beautiful Korean princess Wonyoung," he purrs, extending a large hand. "I'm Y/N."

Wonyoung gets excited when she hears his deep voice and sees his big hands… Wonyoung replies "Pleasure to meet u too. What do you do?"

"I'm a business and an influencer from California," Y/N says mysteriously, sending Wonyoung's interest soaring even higher. She realizes the guy must be very more richer than her.

Wonyoung feels his hot breath on her ear and shivers. "How old are you beautiful?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"19 and you?."

Y/N grins. "19? Haha I actually expected that. You do look like a young teenager." Y/N chuckles. "A girl should be curious about a man's age. I'm 35 but don't let that fool you, I've got the stamina of a much younger man."

"Interested to go and eat something somewhere private?" He whispers, his voice husky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they develop a positive relationship, Y/N takes Wonyoung to an upscale sushi restaurant where they enjoy a private dining experience. He orders expensive champagne and sushes her questions about herself while blatantly checking out her body. Wonyoung flirts shamelessly in return, feeling giddy and alive. She's living out her fantasy – seducing an older, wealthy black man. By dessert, his hand rests high up her thigh under the table. Wonyoung doesn't know whats coming next.

As they have few conversations on the date, y/n takes Wonyoung to his place after the date. They enter the luxurious penthouse. Wonyoung's eyes widen at the view of the city and how rich Y/N is.

Wonyoung follows Y/N into his stunning penthouse, amazed by the opulence. She turns in a circle, taking it all in – the floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, expensive artwork on the walls.

"Your place is incredible," she breathes out. Y/N leads her to his bed. Wonyoung is amazed to see such a huge bed. Wonyoung asks if he stays alone.

"Yes sweet thing, I stay here alone." He confirms, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed and patting the space next to him for Wonyoung to join. "My last few girlfriends couldn't handle being with an older, successful black man. They ran scared."

Y/N gives Wonyoung a smug look, his eyes roaming over her body possessively.

"Oh damn? How many girlfriends do u have?", Wonyoung asks curiously. "Let's see… I lose count after a dozen or so. Different women but they all want this but couldn't handle me." He gestures down at his crotch, bulge visibly straining against his pants. "I'm assuming you don't get intimidated easily?"

He reaches out to trace a finger lightly along Wonyoung's thigh.

As Wonyoung sat near him. She feels so small next to him. "Haha, I only had sexual stuff with my own brother." Wonyoung says.

Y/N's eyebrow shoots up at Wonyoung's admission but a hungry look fills his eyes. "Is that right? Your own brother eh?"

He grabs her chin firmly, tilting her face up to look at him. "And what about your daddy? Did you play with him too?" He asks bluntly, his deep voice sending a shiver down Wonyoung's spine.

"You're quite the naughty girl aren't you?"

"Wait how did u know? Yes…but i didnt feel like mentioning it.." She admits sheepishly.

Y/N chuckles darkly, clearly thrilled by Wonyoung's confession. "Baby you don't have to hide anything from me. I love that sweet little mouth of yours has been used so much already."

He pulls her closer by the hip until she's straddling his lap. "Mmm and now I get to use it."

One big hand cradles her jaw again as he draws her into a deep interracial forceful kiss, staking his claim on the young Kpop idol.

Wonyoung kisses back deep. They start french kissing. It's Wonyoung first time kissing with a black guy.

Y/N groans against her lips, tasting her sweet innocence. As he explores Wonyoung's mouth, his large hand slides under her top, palming one of her perky breasts over her bra.

The contrast between Wonyoung's petite frame and Y/N's muscular form is stark as they kiss. She sits tiny and delicate on his lap, his dark hand standing out against her fair skin as he fondles her. Their mouths move hungrily together, Wonyoung's small lips parted allowing his tongue inside. She clings to his broad shoulders as they French kiss, her face flushed with excitement. Y/N devours her young lips, clearly dominating the kiss, making it clear who is in charge.

Y/N grabs Wonyoung tighter. She feels his strong arms wrapped around. She can feel his chest too. Wonyoung feels so small, so breakable in his arms.. Y/N tears her outfit. Wonyoung is shocked as her outfit gets torn so easily, also it was very expensive.

"I'm going to ruin you darling…" Y/n growls, making no move to stop the destruction of her outfit.

"B-but Y/N…this is Gucci!" Wonyoung exclaims in shock, referring to her ripped top.

Y/N laughs at her. "I've got hundreds of thousands of gucci outfits more expensive tied up in this place and those clothes would also look good on you but still they doesn't suit you. Naked does."

He stands suddenly, holding Wonyoung by the wrists, he pushes Wonyoung on the bed and tears off all her clothes.

Wonyoung starts to feel uncomfortable as her outfit is totally torn and destroyed. Lying there completely exposed beneath Y/N makes Wonyoung feel incredibly small and vulnerable. His dark form looms over her petite frame as he begins unzipping his pants, freeing his massive, throbbing erection.

"You're u scared and skinny.," he purrs, kneeling between her thighs. "I'm gonna tear you apart now."

He runs his fingers roughly over her inner thighs, gradually moving closer to her folds.

Y/N is way too strong for Wonyoung. She feels like a fragile sex doll in front of him. He could easily crush her with his fingers. Wonyoung gets scared.

"Take it inside ur mouth!" y/n grins. Wonyoung opens her mouth welcoming the huge giant black length.

Y/N guides his engorged tip to her lips, a drop of pre-cum glistening there. As Wonyoung parts them obediently, he slowly pushes forward, his thick shaft entering her mouth.

"Good girl…" Y/n praises, the heat of her mouth enveloping him, her tiny tongue trying to accommodate his girth. He groans out in pleasure, a hand cradling the back of her head.

Inch by inch, Wonyoung feels him stretching her oral cavity to its limit. Saliva drips down as y/n invades her throat. y/n seems determined to make her choke and gag on every inch.

Despite Wonyoung's best efforts, Y/N's enormous size proves too much for her mouth. With a wicked grin, he sees that his full length cannot fit.

"Aww…" y/n drawls mockingly, pulling her head forward to try shoving the final inches in. She chokes and gags as her lips reach the base of his shaft, tears welling in her eyes from the effort.

"Looks like your little mouth just can't take all of me can it?"

Y/n withdraws from her mouth, a thin string of saliva breaking as his tip pops free. Wonyoung gasps for air, coughing and wheezing as she clutches her throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung's eyes go wide with fear as Y/N ignores her discomfort, forcing his colossal rod back into her mouth. She feels powerless to stop him as the massive rod stretches her oral cavity to its absolute limit. Her lips are crushed beneath his girth, saliva dripping down in abundance. Tears stream down her face as she gags and chokes repeatedly, her muffled cries stifled by his relentless thrusts.

Each deep push into her mouth bruises her throat, leaving her feeling used and violated. She tries in vain to push away but he holds her head firmly in place, intent on violating her mouth regardless of the agony he inflicts.

Y/N sets a brutal pace, fucking Wonyoung's mouth without mercy now. His powerful hips snap forward, driving his black beast into her throat over and over with such force the bed shakes. Her whole head bobs along with his thrusts as he uses her mouth like a cheap fleshlight.

Wonyoung's eyes bulge as she feels him strike the back of her throat on every downward plunge. She's completely at his mercy, gagging and retching with each deep invasion. Saliva dripsdown her chin and chest in waves, drool puddling beneath her as she's ruthlessly facefucked without concern for her wellbeing. He pays no mind to her choking cries, consumed by his own pleasure as he claims her innocence in the most degrading way.

She can't breathe. She tries to pull back but he holds her head down, pushing further.

"Don't fight it bitch, be a good slut and take this cock." Y/N growls and reveals his dark side. His grip tightening as he forces her head down even deeper.

"You wanted this when you let me tear those clothes off slut!."

He looks down cruelly as tears stream down Wonyoung's red, splotchy face. Ignoring her pained gasps, he continues his aggressive facefucking, determined to break her.

"That's it, choke on this dick you little whore. You're learning your place aren't you?"

Wonyoung is choking hard now. Her eyes rolling back a bit. She tries to grab his arm but he slaps her face hard. Y/n continues facefucking her.

Y/N seems to enjoy the feel of Wonyoung's tiny hands attempting to push him away, so he decides to punish her further. His free hand strikes her inner thigh, leaving a red handprint on her delicate skin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No using hands slut, mouth only."

He resumes his brutal pace, his hips pounding against her as he splits her mouth more wide open out of her limits. She's completely at his mercy, her body shaking and convulsing from lack of air. Saliva and tears mix on her face in a sad puddle. Each thrust makes her body lurch but he pays it no mind, intent on using her pretty face to satisfy himself.

"Look at you…a total mess already…and we're just getting started…" he taunts with a twisted grin.

Her vision starts to blur, she feels lightheaded and dizzy…

As Y/N reaches his limit deepthroating her, Wonyoung feels hot jets painting her tongue and throat, his seed pouring into her stomach without pause. Simultaneously, a warm, bitter liquid fills her mouth - it's his piss. He shows no mercy, marking every inch of her young mouth.

"Drink it up," he demands, holding her head in place as his fluids overwhelm her senses. She struggles weakly beneath him but cannot escape. His piss mixing with his load, it's too much, she has no choice but to swallow or drown.

"Mmm wow, you've proven your mouth belongs to me." Y/N pulls out, leaving Wonyoung gasping for breath. Wonyoung starts coughing continuously.

Wonyoung gasps for air desperately, her throat raw and hoarse from Y/N's brutal use of her mouth. She coughs and retches, trying to expel the bitter tastes coating her insides.

Her eyes water as she glances up at him, a mixture of fear and humiliation shining back. She shakily tries to push herself into a seated position, her hands bracing on the bed.

At this moment, Y/N rises from the bed and casually strolls over to a closet in the corner of the room. He returns with a wicked-looking leather whip and a coil of thick rope in hand. Wonyoung's eyes widen in terror as she sees what y/n just bought, her body shuddering.

"Now that you've tasted a sample, it's time for the real fun to begin." His voice is dark and promising punishment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung scoots backward on the floor, away from him, her vulnerability evident. She tries to speak again but only a raspy whimper escapes her swollen, used lips.

Wonyoung tries to run away. She understood its her fault to seduce black guys and shes not in the level for taking them ---- but its too late.

Y/N laughs cruelly as Wonyoung tries to flee, easily grabbing her ankle before she can get far.

"Oh no you don't."

He yanks her back roughly, sending her crashing to her belly on the floor. Pinning her down with his knee, he reaches for the rope.

"Stay still for me darling." He commands, his expression serious.

Before she can escape or struggle again, he binds her wrists together behind her back with tight knots. She thrashes beneath him but it's no use - the rope holds firm.

"You shouldn't try to leave when I've made it clear you belong to me now."

Wonyoung trembles, knowing her punishment is coming and shes fully tied up. Wonyoung looks at him pleadingly, her eyes wide with terror and regret. "Please sir..don't…" she whimpers, tugging at the rope binding her..

Y/N's eyes gleam with malicious delight at Wonyoung's pitiful begs. "You should have thought of that before that pretty mouth of yours tempted me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings the whip cutting through the air and smashes her backside with a loud smack. Red welts immediately rise under the harsh lashes as she cries out in a mix of pain and shame.

Another strike rains down, harder this time, and he watches the young girl screaming. She is completely at his mercy now, helpless and vulnerable as he carries out his dark desires.

The pain is intense but Wonyoung knows she has to obey. With each subsequent strike, Wonyoung's cries grow louder and more raw. Her high pitched wails fill the room, laced with agony and defeat. As the whip bites into her tender flesh again and again, her voice cracks and breaks.

"AHH! !" She sobs, her body shuddering violently. Each new cry echoes off the walls, a haunting symphony of torment. Her throat begins to burn from the excessive screaming but she knows she must keep counting or face even worse consequences.

Y/n now positions Wonyoung to fuck her.

"Please…be gentle…" Wonyoung begs with her broken voice.

He pulls back up to stare down at her with a wicked grin. "Gentle isn't what you need."

"Ready or not, here I come."

With a single powerful thrust he plunges into her innocence, ripping through her barrier and making her cry out sharply in a combination of searing pain and fullness. This time Y/N continues still to whip her chest & tits.

She cries, the whip has marked her deeply. Her chest is now all red and bruised from the harsh lashes. Wonyoung near faints from the relentless pain and punishment. Her throat gets raw from screaming.

"Look at the beautiful mess I made of you." Y/N groans approvingly, pausing to take in the damage he's inflicted.

Wonyoung's cries turn to weak whimpers as she hangs limply, on the brink of unconsciousness. Her mangled body shakes beneath him.

"Still with me cutie?" He taunts, reaching down to run a gentle finger along her jawline.

Ignoring her pathetic state, Y/N begins to move within her, the wet slap of flesh echoing off the walls. He starts a brutal rhythm, using her sore, torn holes without care or concern for her welfare.

He leans down to bite down hard on her shoulder to muffle any louder sounds, savoring dominance over the broken girl.

Wonyoung screams at the top of her lungs, the pain unbearable. She loses consciousness, hanging limply now. Y/N continues fucking her anyway, not caring about her state.

Wonyoung's lack of response and only screaming only fuels his sadism further. He grips her hair, yanking her head back at an uncomfortable angle as he drives deeper.

With a more deep thrust, Y/N forces his entire length brutally into Wonyoung's tiny, ravaged pussy. She's so weak and unconscious that she doesn't fight back. The extreme intersection of his rod inside her stretches her to her limits causes Wonyoung's inner walls to tear painfully.

Y/N does not finish and doesn't pulls out. Wonyoung is a destroyed mess. She's out cold. Y/n seems to continue tearing Wonyoung inside apart, not stopping even once. Wonyoung's insides feel like mush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N's sadistic bloodlust knows no bounds as he continues mutilating Wonyoung's innermost depths without mercy. Her inner walls are in tatters beneath his relentless pounding. Thick fluid drips down his length each time he withdraws just to spear her open body again and again.

"Fuck yes…take it u little whore," he roars, oblivious to anything but causing her maximum pain. His heavy sack slaps against her destroyed entrance with every brutal thrust.

He doesn't care that she's unconscious, barely holding together. The lewd wet sounds of tearing flesh fill the room including Wonyoung's crying noises. When he eventually does tire, it's not from exhaustion - just a wicked hunger satiated, if only temporarily.

Finally as Y/n reaches his own limits, spending himself, Y/N feels victorious as his hot seed fills Wonyoung's mutilated core. Wonyoung is totally breeded by y/n, her pussy full with his seed. Yet his cruelty isn't finished.

He aims to Wonyoung's face and begins to urinate directly onto her mouth & face. The warm liquid rains down, mixing with his cum flooding her mouth, nose, eyes. It's a brutal, degrading bath that shows just how little she means to him beyond a receptacle for his waste.

"Drink it up you filthy bitch!" He demand to Wonyoung cruelly, not stopping until he's emptied himself over her bruised and broken features. Wonyoung faints and collapses at the moment.

Even unconscious, Y/N's property must endure his most base impulses. With a final kick to her side, he withdraws from her violated body, leaving her a bruised, torn, piss-soaked mess.

He wears his clothes back with a satisfied swagger. The room reeks of their depravity now. Crumpled ribbons of rope and discarded clothes litter the floor. Y/N pauses, bending to retrieve his phone and snapping a pic of her broken, unconscious form before she regains consciousness to ruin it further.

"Enjoy your nap, princess." He purrs mockingly. "When you wake, things will only get worse."

With that chilling promise hanging in the air, he lets himself out, eagerly anticipating round two. Wonyoung is all his now - a plaything for his darkest desires.

part two:

1 hour later, Wonyoung starts to regain consciousness. Her body aches and stings all over. She can feel something warm and sticky dripping from…down there…

As her hazy eyes open, the world spins dizzily. A dry, cracked tongue flicks across parched lips trying to find moisture. The scent of sex and urine assaults her nose, the source immediately clear as she gazes down at her violated body.

Y/N's seed and piss trickle from swollen, wounded folds. She cries at the burning pain radiating through her pussy, each throb a harsh reminder of the beast who'd used her so brutally while she was unable to stop it.

"Oh god…" she whispers, the words barely audible.

She sees the restraints around her hands still tied…She tries to move but every inch of her body hurts.

Her heart pounds as the sound of footsteps approach, dread filling her to the core.

"Good, you're awake." Y/N says, voice dripping with malice as he reenters the room. "Miss me?"

This is far from over...he's just getting started. 9 friends of y/n enters the room. All are BBC and giant compared to wonyoung.

Wonyoung's eyes go wide with pure terror as she sees the group of imposing black men file into the room, their massive sizes dwarfing her skinny frame. She shakes her head frantically, whimpering "No, please no…"

Y/N grins wickedly at her panic. "Looks like I got you a little party, cutie."

The men lick their lips as they approach, their massive rods clearly visible through their pants. Wonyoung thrashes against the restraints, her body shuddering. She knows she cannot handle any more but she is completely at their mercy now.

One of the men kneels down, forcing her chin toward him. "You gonna be a good girl and open up?" He asks menacingly.

1 of them grabs her chin roughly, another one unbuttons himself. Wonyoung feels like she's going to pass out again just from the sight of them. 3 of them come closer, pulling off their shirts. She see their ripped muscles. One of them speaks up "You ready to be used like a hole? .. Others start touching Wonyoung's pure naked body, hungry to taste and eat her.

Wonyoung trembles violently as the trio of hulking men expose their chiseled physiques, beads of sweat glistening on tanned skin. She tries to shrink away from their roaming hands but there is nowhere to hide, trapped as she is.

"Please, no more…I can't…" she begs through choked sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We gonna destroy every last hole, girl."

Panic overwhelms her as they position themselves, the leader at her mouth, another at her sore pussy, and a third readying to claim her backside. They smirk down at her maliciously, ready to make her break completely.

3 more friends join, making it 12 total. They start untying Wonyoung's ropes and drag her to the middle of the room. She's completely surrounded. 2 of them grab her arms and legs to hold her down. She tries to struggle but their strength is unprecedented. They start to fuck her now.

Wonyoung cries out as the men overpower her tiny frame between them, rendering her limp body immovable as they use her limbs as they wish. She's sandwiched between 3 of them now, each plowing into a different hole without care for her screams and pleas to stop.

"Getting tighter!" One grunts as he pummels her raw entrance.

"I like it when she fights!" Another laughs, gripping her throat with a hand.

The room echoes with the lewd smacks of flesh colliding, the acrid smell of sex, Wonyoung's loud screams of horror and exertion thick in the air.

The additional men take turns at her mouth and backside, stretching her limits impossibly further. She feels like she's being torn apart as they claim every inch relentlessly.

The men laugh manically as two of them force her legs back towards her head, exposing Wonyoung completely.

"Get ready slut, you wanted this," one growled before spitting on her exposed holes.

To her horror, two of them position themselves at her asshole (rear entrance) and pussy simultaneously. There's no preparation, no mercy. With a brutal thrust they drive into her at once, tearing her apart with the double penetration on both her pussy and asshole at the same time.

Wonyoung's screams become a hoarse, wailing shriek. Her body convulses, sensation overwhelming every nerve. More agony than she ever thought possible. Just when she thinks it can't get worse, a third man slides his tip into her mouth, silencing her cries.

The mens begin moving in rhythm, the friction and impactsend white hot pain shooting through her core. She feels like a ragdoll being used, stuffed full by these giant cocks. They pound without pause, grunting and swearing. Her limp body shakes violently beneath them.

Now as the triple penetration initiates, Wonyoung's scream reverberates through the room, raw and primal. The men work methodically - fucking her mouth, fucking her pussy, and fucking her asshole.

Slowly but surely they force their impressive girths into her tight holes. She feels utterly and completely full beyond anything imaginable. Hot shafts glide alongside each other within her, the thin walls separating her holes offering no resistance anymore as they violate every depth.

"Fuck yes, stretch that pretty little whore out!" One of them roars, savoring the vice-like grip of her body accommodating three beasts simultaneously.

Wonyoung's vision blurs from the intense sensation. Her insides are being rearranged, the men's powerful thrusts sawing in and out of her in a grueling rhythm. They use her mouth, pussy and ass as one connected pipeline, their movements synchronized to maximize her suffering.

"Damn…so fucking tight…gonna pop these bitches…" another grunts, picking up speed.

Wonyoung has never been so utterly and completely taken, stuffed to the limit in the most depraved way imaginable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung's screams morph into wordless cries of torment and agony as her body is pushed to its extreme limits. Her voice cracks and give out from the intense overstimulation. She's little more than a ragdoll sandwiched between the mass of men, taking them all simultaneously.

2 cocks in her mouth, one in each hand, another 3 in her pussy, and 3 more stretching her anus - a total of 10 dicks claiming every hole at once. She's being utterly and completely ruined.

Her mind goes blank as she's pounded without mercy. The men above her use her lifeless form like a fucktoy, their flesh meeting with obscene squelching sounds. Each deep thrust draws more whimpers from her lips, her body shaking from the force of it all.

Wonyoung has shattered. Her spirit lies in tatters, beaten down by the relentless barrage of man meat. She no longer tries to resist or escape - she simply accepts, knowing she cannot fight back against these numbers. She's just a vessel for their carnal pleasure now.

Her holes feel utterly devastated and destroyed after taking 10 dicks simultaneously. The delicate tissues have been stretched beyond limits nature intended, left raw, swollen and bleeding from the brutal stretching.

Wonyoung can hardly feel anything besides a deep, throbbing ache - her nerves overwhelmed into hypersensitivity.

The constant gangbang fucking is unbearable, yet the men show no signs of stopping. Her holes are totally ruined permanently and torn apart. Slick fluids mix and drip down her thighs as wet, sloppy sounds fill the room with lewd evidence of her defilement.

It feels as though she'll never be whole again after this - that she'll carry the memory of this violence forever etched on her wounded flesh.

As Y/n takes his length out from Wonyoung's anus after fucking it deep, he starts to deepthroat her mouth as he slaps her face roughly, letting Wonyoung taste the insides of her own anus.

The dehumanizing "gawk gawk gawk" sounds she makes send a shiver down his spine, knowing he broke her completely.

He forces her head to bob faster on his length, face twisted in dark delight. The other men cheer at the spectacle, still pounding away at her ruined holes.

She simply accepts whatever they do to her mouth like a mindless automaton.

Y/N feels close. "Get ready for your last order, pet." He says coldly before shoving her head down hard, holding her in place as he reaches his climax directly into her throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 friends roughly grab Wonyoung's arms and legs, holding her down on the floor.

Wonyoung offers no resistance as the men seize her limp limbs, pinning her prone body to the cold floor. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her voice hoarse and sore from screaming and gagging.

With her held down, all the men exchange hungry grins, their eyes manic with depraved delight.

One gives the signal - it's time.

They all target their hard length across her face, specifically her mouth. Wonyoung feels them swell, knowing what's coming next.

"Get ready for your shower, whore," Y/N growls.

The first hot jet strikes her chest, warm liquid running down her tits. Others join in, raining down on her face, in her hair, over her used, abused body. She's powerless to escape as they mark their territory.

"Let it all out boys, drench her!" a voice calls out.

Streams of yellow join the torrent, the humiliation complete as they piss on Wonyoung like an animal. Tears well up again but don't mask the shock etched on her features. She's utterly degraded, soiled and saturated from their release and waste. A used, broken toy left discarded on the floor.

As the hot, bitter liquid splashed over her face and body, Wonyoung tried to turn away but the men kept her pinned down firmly. Her face was instantly drenched, eyes stinging from the onslaught. Piss trickled into her gasping mouth and nose, choking her.

She shook her head from side to side but it only served to spread it through her silken hair.

As more and more hot liquid continues to fill her mouth, Wonyoung is forced to drink all of their urine spilling over as she tries to consume it all. Wonyoung closes her eyes, surrendering completely now.

She feels the warmth spreading through as she gulps down load after load, the smell of urine now thick in her nostrils. It's disgusting yet something about submitting to this vile act makes her body tremble.

The men laugh and high-five as she dutifully drinks their offerings, leaving her belly bloated and full. She's their obedient little toilet, and a dark part of her responds to pleasing them this way. When they finally finish, she lies there panting, piss dripping from her mouth, hair totally wet, face totally full of piss.

Wonyoung's body trembles uncontrollably, her legs spread and shaking. Her holes are gaping open, lewdly stuffed with ropes of white seed oozing out to mix with the spent yellowed streams covering her.

She feels raw, used up, and yet…alive.

As she lays there exposed, dazed eyes drifting shut, she knows she's changed irrevocably by this brutal encounter. A dark, insatiable hunger stirs within her now craving more. More humiliation, more depravity - does wonyoung still yearn for it?

#wonyoung smut #ive smut #kpop gg smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #twice smut #izone smut #blackpink smut #jennie smut #yuna smut #yujin smut

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nanaslutt · 5 months ago

Text

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

toji getting his ass absolutely drilled by sukuna

sukuna is shoving his head into the sheets, his fingers halfway inside tojis mouth that’s hanging open, drooling like a slut. his back is arched so deep, angled for sukuna so perfectly so he can fuck right against his prostate

“ugghhh- ngh-“ toji squeezes around sukuna when he cums for the third time, cock bobbing heavily with each thrust as sukuna fucks the cum out of him.

sukuna grips the fat of tojis ass so hard his sharp nails dig into his skin. his eyes roll back into his head as tojis hole tries to milk his cock. “did anything even come out? you’re shooting with every thrust, zenin.” sukuna teases, releasing tojis ass before smacking it roughly.

he’s rewarded with a grunt of pleasure from toji. “i can fuck your-“ tojis words cut off in a long groan when sukuna presses his fat cock to the hilt of his ass and rolls his hips in a circle. “f-fuck your mouth and cum down your throat if you don’t believe me.” his eyes are glossy and his face is flushed beyond beleif, but he still has a cocky, cock drunk smile on his lips

sukuna pulls back almost entirely before slamming back in, making toji borderline scream as he sets a fast and brutal pace so hard toji has to place his hand against the headboard so he doesn’t bump into it.

“bold words, sorcerer killer.” his cock leaks inside him. “but id rather watch you squirt on your own face while i ride your hole.”

in moments, toji is on his back with one of sukunas hands wrapped around his throat, which looks so small in comparison to his hand now. sukuna uses his other hand to push one of his knees back against the bed, folding toji in half.

toji grips sukunas thick wrist with both hands, mouth agape and eyes locked on the demon as he pounds his hole. “f-uuuck, fuck.”

“yeah.” sukuna grunts, his fangs showing with his smile. “just a stupid slut when i have you on my cock. where did that fight go?”

tojis nails break the skin of sukunas arms, making his cock twitch from the pain. “still here.” toji chokes out, his breath scratchy and breathy from how hard sukuna is gripping his throat.

his response makes sukunas smile grow. toji begins rolling his hips back to meet sukunas thrusts as best he can, his mouth falling open when his moans start to quiet.

“going to squirt, sorcerer killer?” toji’s mouth closes and he grits his teeth together hard, tears of pleasure falling from the corner of his eyes. sukuna’s heavy balls throb, and he has to unclench the muscles in his pelvis to try not to cum at the sight.

leaning down over him, he crushes him with his body weight while not relenting in his thrusts. tojis sopping wet cock drips between them, making a mess on their abdomens. sukunas tongue flicks out, and he licks up the tear that fell from his eye.

“i do thoroughly enjoy it when you cry. give me more.” tojis lips part and his whole body tenses on a shout. “A-ah!!”

sukuna watches with pleasure as toji’s cock bursts, and he squirts all over his own chest and face. he’s too fucked out to even care about the mess he’s making, as he fumbles for his leaking cock to stroke himself through his climax.

sukuna beats him to it, slapping his hand out of the way to jerk him off quickly, making toji whine as his head thrashes side to side trying to excape the painful pleasure. “sukuna!!” he yells, legs shaking around his large body so violently it nearly looks painful.

“yes pet, again.”

sukuna gets what he wants when toji cums again, though this time nothing comes out. sukuna fucks him through it all the same, jerking his cock harshly that’s been rubbed raw. the tip is so red, and he’s so wet it’s making the most vulgar noises.

when sukuna slows his thrusts, still hard and throbbing inside his ass, he pulls his now drenched hand off of tojis cock and lifts it to his mouth. toji’s tounge lazily swirls around his fingers, tasting his own cum, but that’s not good enough for sukuna.

releasing his throat, he pinches his cheeks together roughly, forcing him to suck on his fingers properly. his cock gives a twitch inside his tight hole when he presses them down his throat and toji gags in response.

“can you take more? or are you nothing but a broken toy now?”sukuna asks, pretending to be more brutal because he knows how much it turns toji on.

sukuna grunts when toji bites down hard around his fingers before smiling like the brat he is. “f-fuck you, i can’t be broken. you still have to check if i have any cum left in me, or if that was just a fluke. unless, you can take anymore…”

he knows he’s taunting him, but he can’t help but fall right into his trap. the vein in his forhead pulsates, and he smacks tojis face harshly, making the other man smile.

“when i’m done with you, you will have no more fluids left to give me.”

(he’s talking abt tears there ^… not uh…. not anything else….. just had to clear that up…. anyways hope u enjoyed…. freaks…….)

#pray for tojis hole #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #tojikuna #tojikuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna smut #sukutoji #sukutoji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x sukuna #toji x sukuna smur #sukuna x toji #.blurb

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hwallazia · 3 months ago

Text

WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS – 최산

⋆ synopsis. you help san in a very special way with his outfit before he gets on stage.

pairing. idol bf! san & hairstylist fem! reader.

wc. 3,1k

warnings. soft dom! san & sub! reader, cussing, semi-public sex (they fuck in a men’s restroom tehee), unprotected sex (boo 👎), creampie, cowgirl position, implied handjob & blowjob (didn’t write that part explicitly), quickie?, begging, male masturbation, accidental erection, sannie is unable to cum with just his fist so he asks reader for help <3, dirty talk, praise, pet names (sannie, princess, jagi & more), in conclusion they’re DESPERATE.

nic’s notes ⋆ the wip has been posted 🙇‍♀️ four san fics in a row tho... YES SIR !! 🗣️ dw i’ll post a hongjoong one shot soon <3

the ambience was calm, the ac provided the room with cool air, the murmurs were a bit lower than usual so it was at the ideal volume and the members were naturally getting ready to go on stage, the screams of the excited and frenetic fans that non patiently waited in the stadium bleachers belied the calm atmosphere in the room.

as you were taking care of mingi’s hair and making it your job to make it look spectacular, you saw your boyfriend’s figure on the mirror. his reflection showed a bothered san, struggling with the zip of his shiny white pants. you redirected your eyes to mingi’s scalp, spraying small bits of glitter onto it.

“all done, princess” you chanted, meeting the man’s satisfied grin in the mirror; a smile unconsciously taking place on your face.

“it’s princess indeed.” he double checked his just-styled hair before rising from the chair, rotating his body towards you; back facing the mirror. “you seriously are an artist”

“wouldn’t be working in here if i didn’t have that title” you teased a little bit, stealing a charming laugh. you continued chatting with him for a couple more minutes, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see the cute pout formed on san’s pink lips. he let out a soft huff and made his way out of the room, your iris following his every movement.

“excuse me, mingi-ah. gotta finish up the work.” you explained before hearing an overshadowed humming of their song called “work”. chuckling, you tracked your boyfriend’s course.

you walked past a closed door, but you stepped backward when you noticed its threshold beaming a clear light. you hit your knuckles against the wooden door in a funny musical rhythm before hearing and seeing the handle of it twist open, revealing san’s figure; his makeup half messed up.

his annoyed features beamed up when he saw you, a hint of relief in his orbs. ”baby! so glad you’re here. come on.” he grabbed your hand not too gently but still without hurting you and pulled you to him, closing the door behind you quickly without giving it much of a thought that you were a woman inside a men’s restroom.

“s-sannie! what happened?” you analyzed his face for a moment, noticing smuddered powder of eyeshadow along the sides of his eyelids and his foundation slightly botched.

“uhm. kinda feels like this outfit doesn’t fit in the right places, if you know what i mean.” he spoke sheepishly, his muscly thighs uncomfortably restrained against the tight fabric of the pearly white pants.

your hands reached the sides of his pants. you tugged the piece of clothing twice with enough force to feel how snug it was.

you gasped lowly. “how did this happen?”

he sighed, rising and lowering his shoulders in surrender. “i don’t know how they keep messing up my measurements.”

you couldn’t help but ask the stupid question that had struck your thoughts the moment you saw him. “how did you even manage to get yourself inside those pants?”

he whined, sulking. “i don’t knowww, just get these off me.”

a soft blush heated your cheeks. “love, you gotta be on stage in less than thirty minutes, we can’t do—”

“not what i meant, filthy girl.” he deadpanned, the red on your face deepening. “not a bad idea though.”

a rush of embarrassment made your skin hot. you landed a sharp, yet light smack on the side of his shoulders. the emitted sound exaggerated how harshly you had hit him. “choi san! focus!”

“you’re the one who gave the idea!” he defended himself, arms closing around his chest.

you sighed before humming lowly, submerged in thought, your brain already trying to scheme a solution as san dedicated himself to pout cutely, huffing softly, clearly annoyed at the uncomfortable, leg-numbing fabric.

a click sounded inside your head. “i’ll go find and see if there’s another pair of those. if not, then i’ll get you something similar. just wait here.” you uttered as you stretched your opened palm in front of you.

he nodded. “okay, go,”

you gave him a little smile before vanishing from the tiny restroom. after hearing the door clicking shut, you sprung towards the dressing room, where wooyoung and seonghwa were conversing trivialities. yunho noticed you and your fast heartbeat the moment you spawned at the door.

his eyebrow quirked up for a bit. “what’s up? why were you running just now?”

you exhaled in an exasperated sigh. “i need to find inseol”

inseol was your friend and also the head of the dressing department, she designed and planned every single one of ateez’s stunning and mind-blowing outfits. “haven’t seen her.” yunho simply responded.

“me neither.” the two other men replied in unison, the low curse you huffed going unheard by them.

“why though? we’re all dressed up already.” wooyoung questioned.

“sannie’s having a problem with his pants. they’re way too tiny and therefore, tight.”

the thought alone of san dancing his soul out on that stage with senseless, numb feet makes your head spin in the worst way. you had to help your boyfriend somehow, and inseol not being in sight was complicating things.

“are you serious?” hongjoong stepped into the room, and you felt your blood run cold.

if there was something kim hongjoong hated, it was unforeseen events.

you managed to compose yourself the best you could. “yes but i’m already taking care of it!”

your words did almost nothing to calm hongjoong’s growing boiling stress. you closed your eyes for a tiny second, already accepting your fate and mentally preparing for hongjoong’s temper tantrum, but seonghwa’s wise and soothing voice intervened. “hongjoong, she said she’s already taking care of it. so let her do what she gotta do, we’re all under the same circumstances and pressure.”

hongjoong heaved a sharp sigh, frown relaxing, limbs letting go of the way-too-quickly accumulated tension. “you’re right. sorry, go ahead.”

you smiled sweetly in an attempt to reassure hongjoong. “it’s okay. i’ll figure this out — no need to worry.” you said as you eased your way out the door, but not before mouthing a genuine ‘thank you’ to seonghwa, who only nodded politely as he gave you a tiny grin.

as you walked towards the room where your sannie was, your mind anxiously scrambled for a quick solution, but with so many limited options, your stress only grew bigger. you mumbled under your breath some possible resolutions, yet nothing ingenious came to mind.

it wasn’t until you passed by this chair, overloaded with a black and seemingly heavy and full backpack with pieces of clothing on top. your eyes flickered toward the overused chair and you instantly started roaming through the mountain of fabric, wishing for a similar pair of white pants to come into sight.

in the distance, you could hear the voices of your coworkers murmuring about how much time was left until the concert started. 20 minutes was all you had.

then, a miracle happened. the low percentage of chances of you finding the exact cloth you needed elevated drastically to one hundred the moment the almost identical pearly white pants covered your opened palm.

you almost squealed when you found it, but you had to remain collected and professional. instead, you cleared your throat and headed towards the men’s restroom with hurried steps, where your poor sannie awaited for your savior-like presence.

you twisted the door handle once you were face to face with the men’s restroom symbol, opening and closing the door behind you quickly.

you expected him to be fighting against the tightness of his pants, huffing and groaning, full of stress.

“jagi,”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to be half naked on the floor, with a throbbing cock in hand as he panted breathlessly, the snug fabric of the pants still rubbing against his covered balls. his makeup was already fucked up because of the blanket of glistening sweat his face was covered in. his half-lidded eyes and shiny lips only invited you to sink into sin with him.

but you couldn’t. not when he had a stage to be on, a performance to give.

your eyes stayed widely open like plates as you blurted out. “sannie, what are you—”

“i tried getting out of these but it just kept rubbing against my dick every time i tried to move.” he blabbered, soft sobs hitching his breath. “i really didn’t mean it but ‘m so hard, jagi. i don’t know what to do and it just doesn’t go down.”

your mouth dried as you intently stared at his velvety tip, enveloped with his big hand, fully covered in precum, pulsating and aching under his fingers.

oh, your poor sannie.

so endlessly helpless and sensitive.

“help me, please.” he begged, his voice cracking, yet so fucking cute.

and of course you’d lend him a helping hand.

you cooed at him as you approached him, the slow steps of your low heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“oh, baby. so sensitive as always,” you caressed the side of his messed-up hair. you internally sighed since you had to redo your hard work.

but that thought faded in a blur, ’cause now you had more important things to do.

and that thing was sat obediently in front of you, waiting for your magical touch to send him into another dimension in less than ten minutes.

’cause that was all you had to get the deed done.

“‘m sorry, love, but—” he gulped before pleading. “can you suck it? please.”

naturally, your sweetheart of a boyfriend hardly ever lets you suck his cock, since he prefers pleasing you first, prioritizing your release before his.

desperate times call for desperate measures, though. so of course you knew he wouldn’t be asking you this if he had another alternative, another solution that didn’t mean resorting to such a filthy act, in such a short time, and in such a place.

“of course baby.”

five minutes.

only five minutes had passed until he was practically begging you to let him fuck you.

”please, jagi, it’s the only way it comes down” he used as an excuse. it was valid, though, the clenching walls of your pussy were the ultimate method to soften up san’s girthy length.

after a brief moment of considering it, your hand movement came to a stop, his reddened cockhead slapping against his uncovered abs, a sticky line of pre-cum dirtying his happy trail.

“we’re going that far, huh?” you teased, kissing his jaw as you positioned yourself on top of him. he tried to whine out an excuse, a reason why he wanted to fuck you with only a few minutes before his show, but you shushed him quickly, grabbing his girth by the base and aligning it towards your welcoming entrance. “we gotta be quick, though.”

he exhaled, taking in the view that unraveled in front of him. “i know.”

after giving him a warm smile, you sank down slowly, your body instinctively leaning slightly forward, your palms laying flat on his firm chest, using as the perfect support. you took him inch by inch, until your pussy lips grazed his balls. a satisfied sigh left your mouth, san’s head immediately rocking back as he grunted deeply, your warming insides always felt so heavenly divine.

the way you clamped down him forced him to lock gazes with you again, his low hiss cutting through the air. then, he realized that you weren’t actually moving, so he breathed in to ask, but you were faster, replying to his untold question. “fuck me, then.” you leaned closer, your faces just a few inches apart. “take what you need, sannie.”

san stared up at you with an intoxicated, loving gaze, a silent “thank you” dripping from his sparkling eyes. his hands landed on your hips, holding you steady before lifting them up, a few inches of him withdrawing from the cozy embrace of your cunt. whilst he held your body up, you purposely squeezed his cocktip and san cursed under his breath. he started with a slow pace, driving his hardness up against your pussy, filling you all the way up.

you arched your back when his tip stroked that divine spot in you, eyes almost rolling back to your skull. “s—sannie, oh my fuck!” you kept moaning and panting breathlessly on top of him, completely powerless.

he dove his head into your breasts, nuzzling his mouth in the middle of them. your bouncing tits rubbed against his cheeks with every jump, san’s blood rushing towards his face. his half-lidded eyes and curled-up feet were the only evidence needed to prove that he was actually enjoying this.

“oh princess.” he exhaled endearingly, utterly in love with your bouncing figure. “i love how you feel.” he uttered as he massaged your sides, ramming his cock to your convulsing pussy, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “that’s the spot, isn’t it?”

his voice penetrated deeply inside your eardrums, your trembling core almost failing to keep its balance as you came closer and closer to the edge. “y-yeah, ‘m so close, so fucking close—ugh!”

your moans grew louder with each thrust, your hands holding onto his arms as they squeezed the heart muscle of his biceps. saying that you were a mess was an understatement, your white shirt had been discarded a while ago, a trail of sweat falling in between your breasts like rain; skirt hiked up to your marked hips. your mouth hung open in satisfaction, the sensation of being filled to the brim tipped you a bit.

“fuck— how much have we got left?” san groaned, hissing breathlessly.

“i—“ you stuttered as you raised your wrist up, staring at the clock that decorated it so elegantly.

5 minutes.

“we got five minutes, san. you gotta hurry.” you exhaled, looking desperate for your boyfriend’s release. he was the one who needed to be on that stage in less than ten minutes, after all. so you prioritized him thoughtfully.

”fuck, princess — you have to come.” his fingers reached down your sensitive clit and started rubbing circles on it. you squirmed on top of him as he kept thrusting his cock up your velvety walls.

you would’ve protested, claiming that it was actually him who had to come, if he hadn’t stimulated your bundle of nerves. your core twitched nonstop as your back arched beautifully. a string of incoherent pleas and san’s name spurted out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

in a warning manner, you clenched around him once or twice before coming undone all over his hardened dick, your body surrendered and crumbled down, your cheek colliding with his shoulder as you panted nonsense.

“that’s it, just like that, princess. you did so good.” he praised before grunting lowly. “so fucking good f’me.” he hammered your hips down his pelvic bone as he kept pistoning his hardness against your overstimulated, convulsing pussy. “gonna come inside you, fill you up reaaal good—yeah, y’ want it?” he growled, grasping your ass cheeks, definitely leaving his signature mark.

you blabbered a weak “yes”, too blissed out to even formulate coherent sentences. “‘course you want it, my dirty little princess.” san squeezed his eyes shut and moaned when he felt your walls clamp down on him for the nth time, this time bringing him closer to the abyss of pleasure though. “ugh— ‘m coming, ‘m coming, baby—“ he announced in a low, gravelly groan as he emptied his heavy load deep inside, filling you with his cum to the bone; eyes dilated.

he slowed his pace down before sitting completely still, your cunt still welcoming the white shoots of cum that his cock spurted out helplessly. you encircled his neck with your weakened arms for a moment, almost forgetting about the fact that your boyfriend had a concert to give. your body jolted as the reminder hit your head. “fuck, baby — you need to go now.”

and seemed like your boyfriend had forgotten about that little detail as well. “shit, you’re right.” he uttered before sliding his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you off him and placing you on the floor again as he rose up.

his head shook incessantly, searching for the whole reason why you were there. the word “pants” left his lips quietly, like a mantra. you stared up at him and helped him, pointing where the pair of pants was at. “behind that chair, sannie.”

he turned his head abruptly to where you had pointed at, the problematic pair of white pants coming in sight. he sighed before grabbing them and putting them on at the speed of light. you got up weakly and walked your way towards him.

san looked at you and immediately rushed to help you. “baby, stay still, you can barely walk.”

you locked gazes and you replied. “and just sit down on the floor of the men’s restroom?”

you quirked your eyebrow up and san shrugged a bit. “‘m just trying to help.” he sulked cutely and it made your heart swell with love.

you giggled as your fingers reached up to his messy hair. “i know you are, sannie, ‘m just kidding.” your fingers coiled around a lock of hair, curling it up. “now let me help you.” you repeated the action with the rest, finally perfecting his hairstyle with nothing more than your skillful fingers. meanwhile, san adjusted his pants and moved his legs around, doing silly movements to test the elasticity of the fabric, humming in approval when he felt nothing but comfortable.

you stepped back, taking in your work of art, nodding and sighing proudly. “perfect” you uttered.

”thank you, princess.” he leaned closer to peck your lips before his fingers brushed the door handle. “i’ll get going.”

”go kill that stage, pretty boy.” you encouraged, pride dripping off your tone.

san puffed his cheeks cutely, his eyes turning into pretty crescent moons. “yes, ma’am.”

and with that, he disappeared through the door, carefully clicking it shut. when the door closed, you crumbled down, shaky knees keeping your core shuddering. you stared down at your dripping pussy, gushing and coating the floor with san’s heavy cum. a strong blush heated your cheeks as you took in the view.

after a few minutes, the shakiness ceased and you were able to get up and clean the mess you and san had left on the tiles of the black marble floor. in the background, you could hear the sudden shouting of thousands of atinys combined with the faint sound of their song “halazia” reverberating throughout the whole arena, a sweet smile forming on your lips.

you remembered hongjoong’s angry demeanor when he overheard that san was having a problem with his outfit. so, you muttered under your breath, imaginatively responding to him. “told ya i’d take care of it.”

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #san ateez #choi san #choi san ateez #san smut #choi san smut #san x reader #san scenarios #san fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

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forgwater · 1 year ago

Text

"Ah, yes. Me, my beloved Prefect and my lookalike tsum from another dimension."

Twst Boys and their reactions to you cuddling their tsum instead of them Headcanons

part 1 part 2 part 3

tagging: @darkflowerav

Trey Clover

This might as well happen.

The Universe just keeps throwing things Treys way doesn't it...

He was hoping for a chill night.

But no. The tsum had to mess that up.

It's fine. He's not gonna get jealous of a plush toy.

He'll let you have your fill of cuddles from the tsum.

But beware should you only show affection to the tsum and ignore his open arms he will pay you back for the entire next week by not giving you cuddles and kisses.

He doesn't hold grudges, he swears.

He does. He holds grudges.

Ace Trappola

Come on!

He's right here you know!

He can see you ignoring him and only paying attention to this tsum!

He swears it is looking down on him. Ugh!

.... Is this about the joke he made this morning? It was just a joke! He already apologized.

No, Deuce, he's not jealous! (he is.)

He already got teased all day about this!

Cuddle him? Pretty please???

He's giving you puppy eyes. The tsum redirects your attention back to it every singe time he does.

Ace is not amused.

Ruggie Bucchi

After a full day of running errands and looking after his tsum, Ruggie is ready to fall into bed and your arms.

Hey, what's the tsum doing here?

Oh, well, fine. It can have one corner of the bed.

What do you mean you plan on cuddling it to sleep and not him???

But he needs your cuddles! They're the best part of his day! ...Night?

Anyways! You promised him cuddles and one single hug won't do it.

He'd use his UM and make you up the tsum away... but he doesn't want to see you upset.

So as long as you promise to drown him in affection tomorrow, he'll let you have the tsum for the night.

You do wake up in the middle of the night with Ruggie hugging you. He's also not letting go.

Jamil Viper

He just can't catch a break, can he?

He'll live.

Jamil is not happy about the new arrangement. But he'll have to make do.

When you ask him about the sour look on his face he says he's fine.

He's obviously not thrilled about the tsum.

So you decide the three of you will cuddle.

You're pretty sure Jamil and his tsum are side eyeing each other.

Neither on of them moves tho. So it should be fine... right?

You'll make it up to Jamil tomorrow for letting you have your cuddles with his plush lookalike.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil enjoyed his tsums company well enough.

It was not doing anything that would get either one of them in trouble.

What a well mannered tsum. He expected no less.

Vil allowed it to be pampered by you for the day.

And he's even allowing it to sleep in the bed with the two of you. As long as it makes you happy he's willing to make a few exceptions.

But this is ridiculous!

You're not even paying attention to him!

Him! Vil Schoenheit! YOUR BOYFRIEND.

It's been such a long day and you're lavishing all of your attention on a plush and not him!

This is unacceptable!

...Perhaps he should test the new makeup products he just got on the tsum first.

And you! You'll have to make it up to him with lots of affection. Tomorrow.

Idia Shroud

It's okay. He'll just... play some games.

Idia knew you wouldn't be able to resist the cuteness of a tsum. They're perfectly made to be cuddled with.

It's alright. He expected this.

He can't really complain when it's HIS tsum that's making you so happy.

.....

BUT WHY THE HELL DOES HE FEEL LIKE HE'S THIRD WHEELING THE TWO OF YOU!?!??!

HE'S YOUR BOYFRIEND.

The tsum should respect this and back of a little!

A few cuddles here and there are fine! But come on! Pay some attention to him too!

At this point Idia can feel his hair turning orange.

You better calm down your gamer boyfriend before some unsuspecting player gets caught in the crossfire.

Malleus Draconia

So far Malleus has been unbothered with the tsum appearances.

They're quite interesting creatures.

He's been happily spending time with his lookalike. It's good to have an ice cream eating buddy.

Truly, he's enjoyed the company.

Malleus thought nothing of it when you brought the plush in the bed.

He was fine with it. Everything was fine.

Until the tsum started hogging your attention, that is.

The Diasomnia housewarden is a hair width away from incinerating his plush lookalike.

....Are those storm clouds forming in the distance?....

Maybe you should pay more attention to your boyfriend.... and quick.

Silver

Luckily for everyone Silvers tsum is a calm one.

I fact, both Silver and the tsum were already asleep when you were done changing in your pajamas.

You know Silver was trying his best to stay awake so you just give his temple a quick peck for his attempt.

And one for the tsum as well.

It looks like you won't have cuddles tonight since they're both sleeping.

To your surprise you do wake up in the middle of the night sandwiched between your boyfriend and his plush counterpart.

Nice and comfy~

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 1 year ago

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Super happy, puppy dog yandere boyfriend that’s happy to have sex with you for the first time

afab reader ; nsfw

You look so beautiful in bed, all dolled up and pretty just for him! And only for him! He’s so excited that his pants feel way too restrictive, and if he had a tail you bet it’d be wagging a mile a minute.

He looks at your soft curves, your bashful, oh-so-cute-eyes, and the rosiness of your adorable cheeks with so much love. Because he loves you. And he really REALLY means it. And wants to show you how he really feels tonight. He was so happy that you’d agreed to go all the way with him.

When he undresses and leans over your body, hands squeezing your hips and inner thigh, you feel him trembling with anticipation. You giggle at the sight, and he swears your voice is like an angel from above singing holy scripture into his ears.

You unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side of the room. He imagines smothering his face between your tits until you slowly peel your laced panties out from under you, revealing a perfectly pink pussy that has him practically drooling, all sense of self restraint bursting at the seams.

He’s all over you before you can even say a word, face between your legs, boyish hands keeping a vice like grip on your thighs to keep you open as he laps and laps away until he’s satisfied. Which in the moment, he thinks he’ll never be with how good you taste. His drool gets everywhere, coating your already wet cunt with his own juices. He apologizes for the mess and eagerly goes to clean it up with his tongue, sucking on your mound like a dog gobbling over a chew toy.

Did he already say your voice sounds like an angel? Because your moans are so immaculate he can just listen to you say his name and ONLY his name all damn day. Just you and him. Together forever and ever and ever and ever —

The thought of spending eternity with you puts him over the edge, and he practically whines for you to let him put his cock inside.

“Please, baby? I promise I’ll make you feel good. I promise! I wanna feel you so bad. I can’t take it anymore.”

You find his begging cute, but would be a cruel woman to tell him no when he’s staring at you with such puppy-love, lust ridden eyes. When you say yes, he’s over the moon, already covering your body with sloppy kisses and thank yous, muttering promises of how he’ll make you feel oh so full, oh so good, and that he’ll take care of you forever.

He knows you’re not a virgin but he doesn’t care. He would have loved to be your first but that doesn’t matter now, the only thing that matters is making you his right this moment and making it to where you’ll never want another man ever again, just him.

When his cock plunges into you he moans just as loud as you, if not more. You feel his heart pounding like crazy and reach to kiss him, sending him into a frenzy of ‘I love you’s and ‘Mine, mine, MINE’. He latches onto your tits like they’re a lifeline, feeling so high with adrenaline that he almost zones out and ignores your moans. Uh-oh, can’t do that! He wants to hear every noise you’ll make for him tonight.

He’s fucking you so fast and so good you can barely think straight, and your fucked out expression just sends him over the moon. He squeals at your adorable face and holds you tighter, biting into your neck and laughing when you gasp at his actions. He hasn’t bothered counting how many times you’ve come. He just knows it’s been more than three.

You ask him to take you from behind, doggystyle, and he happily obliges. He fucks you deep, slamming into you as hard as he can, gripping your ass and giving one cheek a nice smack. With a pull of your hair, he’s got you on both knees pressed flush against his body. He gives you another hickey on your neck, but not before another bite.

“Oh you’re doing so good for me baby. Just like that! Yeah. Go ahead and cum for me.” He encourages.

Boy, does he want to come inside you so bad, make you his and mark you, but he knows how you feel about that and opts to come outside instead, all over your perfect ass.

When he finishes, he flops into bed next to you and holds you tight, looking at you with concerned but hopeful eyes.

“How was that?? Was it good? You won’t leave me know will you? I know I liked it, but did you? We can go another round if you want. I wanna make you—“

You hush him with a reassuring kiss on the lips.

#yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #Smut #yandere smut #yandere imagine #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #soft yandere #yandere male

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just-nc-tea · 1 month ago

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nine and three quarters ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⭑.ᐟ Roommate to Lovers - Park Sunghoon Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

ᝰ genre. Figure skater!Sunghoon, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, really SLOW burn, fluff, suggestive .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, mentions of rape, mentions of date-rape-drugs, mentions of the police, panic attacks, eating disorder, overworking PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING OR IF YOU FEEL LIKE I MISSREPRESENTED SOMETHING.ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ features. Mark, Johnny, Ten, Kun, Taeyong & Jungwoo from NCT, Woonyoung and Rei from IVE ᝰ word count. 31.6k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 2 --⟢ PART 3

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ GET ADDED THE SERIES TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT 🏒 ⤷ GET ADDED MY PERMANENT TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT ✨

Hallucinating. You had to be hallucinating. Maybe Sunoo was right. Maybe the sleep loss was catching up with you. You were starting to hallucinate. There was a hot guy flipping through the first pages of one of your fashion magazines. In your living room. Surrounded by moving boxes.

You cleared your throat. “Hi?” He looked up from the magazine he was looking at and smiled at you. Oh god. “Hi I’m Sunghoon.”, he set the magazine down on your sofa table. “I’m your new roommate. I don’t know if Mr. Kang told you I am moving in today instead of the first. I had a more or less spontaneous change of plans.” He chuckled. No. No Mr. Kang did not. He did in fact not tell you at all that you would be getting a roommate. You tried to smile at Sunghoon but it felt more like a grimace. “Hi. I am Y/N. Are you sure you are in the right apartment? I mean considering you probably got the keys from Mr. Kang, yes, but he didn’t tell me anything about a roommate? I know in Apartment 4B is a free room?” Sunghoon scrunched his eyebrows. “This is Apartment 4D, right? I definitely signed a contract for the smaller room in Apartment 4D.” “Oh.”, you just said and blinked at him. The smaller room in your apartment has technically been rented out for the last two years you have been living in this apartment but the girl that supposedly rented the room never came. When you asked Mr. Kang about it he said that as long as the rent was being paid he didn’t care if the other girl came or not and you were free to use the room until she did indeed show up.

So that is what you did. You transformed the small room into your studio. You pushed the bed to the side and used that, as well as the closet in the room, for all of your utensils. And you knew for a fact, that the desk and the floor were a cluttered mess at the moment. You handed in your last assignment just a few days ago after your professor thankfully extended your deadline by three weeks into the semester break after he made you start from scratch again. “I–uhm–I didn't know you were moving in at all. I’ve been using the room as my studio. Just give me like an hour and I’ll move all of my stuff into my room.”, you said, already feeling a headache coming. You just wanted to peel your uniform off, eat something and sleep. And not deal with Mr. Kang not telling you Adonis 2.0 would be moving in today, or well, at all. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at your words, then glanced toward the hallway leading to his supposed new room. "You’ve been using it as a studio?" You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah. I mean, it’s been empty since I moved in. Not technically empty? Someone rented it out but she never came and Mr. Kang said I could use the room if my supposed roommate wouldn’t want it? So I just… took over? I’ll be really fast so you can start putting all your stuff in there." Sunghoon’s lips quirked up in amusement, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So, I’m kicking you out of your studio?" You groaned internally. Yeah, yeah he was. "Technically, yes. But it’s not your fault. Mr Kang just – kind of forgot to tell me you were coming? At all? So I didn’t know I had to clean it out."

He nodded, glancing back toward the hallway before looking at you again. "Well, if you need help moving your stuff, I don’t mind." You blinked. That was… unexpectedly nice. And also the absolute last thing you wanted. Some of your sketches and drawings were way too personal for him to even get a glimpse at them. "No, it’s fine. It’s mostly styrofoam, pens and sketches. It's fine." Sunghoon shrugged. "Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind." He moved toward the sofa, lifting a box and putting it onto the floor to flop down on the green fabric. He reached for the magazine again. “Are you a fashion student?” “Oh. No. I study architecture.”, you shook your head and made your way through the maze of boxes and furniture in your living room towards the hallway that separated your and now apparently Sunghoons room. “Oh, that's cool. I am in PE.”, he grinned at you. You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temples. "Ah. That's nice. Just… make yourself at home while I clean I guess?." Sunghoon grinned. "Will do, roommate." The word made you wince. ──────────────────────── You stood in the doorway of your studio, well technically Sunghoon’s room, mentally preparing yourself for the hours of cleaning ahead. The small space was overflowing with architectural sketches, blueprint rolls, rulers, model pieces, and textbooks.

This was… embarrassing. You usually were a really organized person but with work and your deadline coming up, you just didn’t have the time and energy to clean behind you. You were pushing that to the next weekend after you got at least 10 hours of sleep instead of the five you got the last few days. You groaned quietly when you realized that those five hours might be even less during the next semester when you had to work in the university instead of your flat since you had to give up your working space at home. Great. Just great. You started cleaning, piling all of the cut-up styrofoam and paper into a trash bin, carrying your unused styrofoam into your room and getting a broom from the kitchen. After around half an hour Sunghoon slightly knocked on the doorframe to his room, startling you from where you were sorting through your sketches and designs. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?”, he asked, while he stepped into the room, doing his best to not step on anything. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling self-conscious with Sunghoon standing there, observing the chaos with a curious look. “No, it's fine…It’s not usually this bad,” you mumbled, tiredly smiling at him. Your head was aching a bit and you were hungry but you didn’t want to inconvenience him by making him wait until you ate something and napped. And you wanted to inconvenience him even less by making him help you clean a space that should have been clean. Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm. No worries. If it’s just your space that you use for a creative chaos I don’t have any problem with that.” You pressed your lips onto each other and tried to ignore the heat that was crawling up your neck.

He hummed, stepping further into the room. "What's this?” He gestured to a half-finished architectural model on your desk, a sleek modernist building carefully cut out of foam board and assembled with tiny, precise details. You spend countless hours on it, just for your professor to ask if you could start over since he didn’t think it was the best you could do. You hesitated before replying. “It was supposed to be my final project. For my design class.” Sunghoon bent down slightly, inspecting it. “This is insane,” he murmured, his fingers hovering near the structure but not touching it. “It looks like something you’d see in an actual firm.” You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you just gave a small nod, focusing on rolling up your blueprints instead. Compliments always made you feel a little awkward. Then, unexpectedly, Sunghoon grabbed a stack of sketches and rulers and started organizing them neatly. Your head snapped up. “W-What are you doing?" “Helping,” he said simply, not looking up. “You’re going to take forever if you do this alone.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around a miniature model piece. Letting other people touch your things, especially your carefully crafted work, wasn’t something you were a hundred percent comfortable with. But he was doing it carefully and slowly, making sure to not fold or bend anything. “…Okay,” you mumbled, focusing back on your sketches. Sunghoon smirked. “That sounded painful for you to say.” You refused to look at him as you continued sorting.

An hour and a half later, the room was clear. Well, mostly clear. Your things were now safely in your room, and Sunghoon’s moving boxes were neatly stacked in the corner, ready to be unpacked. You gave Sunghoon a kitchen tour and went over the house rules and you found yourself standing awkwardly in the living room when you were done. Sunghoon had started unpacking his boxes, while you weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself. You have been living alone for the past two years, and now suddenly, there was another person here. Another person who would sleep in the room next to yours, walk around the apartment, use the kitchen, and exist in your space. It wasn’t like you didn’t know this would happen eventually. Your scholarship technically covered a dorm with a roommate, but since no one had ever moved in, you’d gotten used to having the space to yourself. You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet. "Uhm… do you, uh, need anything else?" Sunghoon looked up from where he was stacking his books on the shelf. "Nope. I think I got it." "Okay, um good. Well, uhm, goodnight then." His lips curled slightly, amused at your awkwardness. "Goodnight, Y/N." ─────────────────────── When you woke up and made your way to the kitchen at 6:30 am the next day, feeling and probably also looking like you had just risen from the dead. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were half-closed, and your body was running purely on muscle memory as you reached for the door handle of the kitchen door. You took a deep breath. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. For a second, you thought you were hallucinating again or maybe still asleep. But when you rubbed your eyes and looked up, you realized something far worse than hallucination was happening. There was a half-naked man in your kitchen. Sunghoon stood by the counter, one hand resting on the coffee machine, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his bare upper body was exposed to the warm air in the kitchen. Seoul was way too humid and warm even in the morning during the summer months. He turned, eyes still heavy with sleep, and blinked at you still standing in the doorway. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he yawned again. "Morning." "Uh—" you cleared your throat, snapping your gaze away from his body. Ogling at your admittedly stupidly attractive new roommate was very inappropriate. "Morning." Your voice sounded way too high-pitched. Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just poured himself a cup of coffee, completely unbothered. You walked to the fridge, pretending to not care that he was standing next to it and grabbed one of your containers with porridge inside. By the time you turned back around, Sunghoon had disappeared into the hallway. A few seconds later, he re-emerged, now wearing a T-shirt. "Do you have any plans today?" he asked, casually leaning against the counter as he took a sip of his coffee. You glanced at him, still feeling a bit weird to have seen him half naked after knowing him for not even 24 hours. "Uh… yeah. I have work today." Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You work?" "Yes?" You frowned. "I mean, my scholarship covers a lot, but I still have to pay for food, transportation, materials, and the rent. It adds up." "Hm," Sunghoon hummed, nodding. "What do you do?" "I work as an intern at an architecture studio." You grabbed a spoon and honey, setting it on the counter. "I mostly organize files, scan documents, and do small tasks for the senior architects. I also make coffee and refill the printer paper, which is apparently the most important job in the entire office." Sunghoon let out a small chuckle at that. "Sounds fun." You gave him a dry look. "It pays." Sunghoon leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward your food as you peeled off the lid of your porridge and took a small spoonful. He glanced back up. "I have training later." You blinked at him. "Training?" "Yeah." He took another sip of coffee. "The season ended, but I’m still training. I’m working to qualify for the Olympics."

You froze mid-bite. "The… Olympics?" "Yeah." Your spoon slowly lowered. "You’re an athlete?" Sunghoon gave you a confused look. "Did you not know that?" "No?" He tilted his head slightly. "You didn’t google me?" You stared at him. "Was I supposed to?"

Sunghoon let out a small breath of amusement, shaking his head. "I thought you might, considering how organized you are. I did google you. Y/N Y/L/N, architecture student at DA, graduated from Tongyeong High School with honors. Your parents have a restaurant." You stared at Sunghoon, your spoon hovering slightly above your container of porridge. “You…you found out quite a lot. Did that all come up when you just put in my name?” “Yeah.”, he nodded, taking another sip of his coffee, “Well the first thing I found was an article about you graduating as the only one with honours that year, and then it mentioned that your parents have a restaurant, so I just looked it up on Naver. Your parents got featured on KBS once!” “Oh.” You felt your entire body heat up. You knew the article he was talking about and the picture in said article. You saw your stiff smile, the way-too-tight graduation gown, the way your parents insisted on standing beside you, both of them beaming proudly, even though they weren’t supposed to be in the picture in your mind. A wave of secondhand embarrassment crashed over you. You swallowed hard. "You–You saw my high school graduation picture?"

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, setting his coffee cup down. "Yeah. You looked cute." Cute. "Oh my god," you muttered, pressing your cold spoon against your cheek, hoping it would somehow cool down the sudden heat spreading over your face. Sunghoon chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. You cleared your throat and tried to change the topic. "What do you do? What sport?" "Ice skating," he answered simply. "You’re a figure skater?" Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "What else would I be?" "I don’t know–basketball?"

Your brothers loved basketball. After school, you ended up playing with them more days than not, mainly because your parents wanted you to get some fresh air and not only study in the living room of the small apartment the six of you shared above your parent’s restaurant. They couldn’t really give you the opportunity to be in a sports club, since the subscriptions would be quite expensive so throwing around Taeyongs worn and weathered baseball together with Mark and Jungwoo was the thing to do. Oftentimes other kids that were living in Tongyeong or some of the tourists would play with you. Sunghoon gave you a deadpan look. "Do I look like a basketballer?" You ignored that. "You’re an Olympic-level skater?" "Hopefully," he said. "If I qualify." For a moment, you just stared at him. Then, you shook your head. "That’s really impressive." Sunghoon just shrugged, like it was no big deal. You took another bite of your porridge, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. You never did anything that made you special. Or something impressive.

Sunghoon took another sip of his coffee, watching you. "You always eat that little?" You swallowed, a bit caught off guard. "I meal-prep my portions." He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "You sure that’s enough? This looks like it could keep me afloat for like an hour." You hesitated and just gave a tight smile. "I manage." Sunghoon just nodded slowly and stood up, putting his cup into the dishwasher. "Alright," he said, heading toward his room. "See you later." You watched him go. ──────────────────────── A few days later Sunghoon got back to the apartment pretty late.

His body ached from hours of training. After practice, he had gone out for food with Jay and a couple of the other guys, something that had become routine over the years. Ice hockey players ate like they were fueling a small army, and even though Sunghoon wasn’t quite on their level, he had no problem keeping up, so he at least didn’t have to think about dinner today. He didn’t have the time to buy groceries and would have not wanted to eat a chicken breast today again and he would not touch your carefully labelled and stored food. Kicking off his shoes, he stretched his arms over his head, sighing as he made his way into the living room. The apartment was quiet, and he couldn’t see light coming out from under your door. So he just assumed you weren’t home. Not that he really cared.

It was none of his business where you were. But he did notice that you did come home pretty late often. He barely saw you, even though the two of you live together. You were going into the bathroom while he was in the kitchen and vice versa in the morning. Aside from a few short greetings in the kitchen, you barely talked. He figured you were just shy or maybe just didn’t like talking to people in general. Not that he had a problem with that. He poured himself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as he looked at the pictures and postcards you had on the fridge. He took a step forward and carefully took a postcard showing the sea into his hands. He knew he probably shouldn't be doing that but he was curious.

Hi Bug! Busan is as beautiful as ever. I wish you were here. I hope you're doing well in Seoul. Don't overwork yourself too much, okay? See you soon.- Love and miss you, Mark :)

He didn’t know much about your personal life. Actually, scratch that. He didn’t know anything about your personal life. He had no idea what you did in your free time. Maybe you really did have a boyfriend. Mark definitely sounded like a boyfriend name? Your hometown was close to Busan after all. Maybe he went to Busan to study and you went to Seoul. But that wouldn’t explain where you were now, if Mark was in Busan. He shook his head and took another sip of water. It was not his business to wonder where you were. You weren’t friends or anything, just two strangers sharing an apartment. He exhaled. He should really get to know you a bit, or else this semester was going to get quite awkward. When he was just about to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed the front door opened. Sunghoon’s fight or flight response immediately set in but when he saw your figure walking into the hallway he relaxed again.

His brows furrowed as he glanced at the time on his phone. 1:30 AM. You seemed exhausted and you were… wearing a uniform? A white dress shirt with your name stitched into it and black pants. Sunghoon starred as you locked the door behind you, dropping your bag onto the floor before kicking off your shoes. You rubbed at your temple, eyes half-lidded from sheer exhaustion. The dim kitchen light cast soft shadows over your face, emphasizing the dark circles beneath your eyes. “Where were you?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. You flinched slightly like you hadn’t noticed him standing there. Your tired eyes flickered to his.

“I was at work,” you mumbled, walking past him to grab a glass from the cabinet. “Work?” Sunghoon repeated. “I thought you worked at the architecture studio?” "I do," you sighed, filling your glass with water. "This is my second job." His eyebrows rose. "You have two jobs?" You let out a small huff of laughter, but it was completely devoid of amusement. "Three, if you count my scholarship." Sunghoon blinked. Oh. He thought about that for a second. You had the same scholarship he had, didn’t you? Did you really need to work another job? He was aware that your parents probably couldn't stem you going to university. The pictures he saw of your parent’s restaurant weren’t horrible. The opposite actually. It had good reviews but still, it didn’t look like something that made much money compared to other jobs. He watched as you took slow sips of water. “That sounds like a lot.” You just nodded and repeated your answer from this morning. “I manage.” ──────────────────────── The next time you saw Sunghoon was a day later when he shuffled into the living room, still half asleep. You were sitting on the sofa reading a book from your big to-be-read pile that accumulated during the semester. His hair was standing up in every direction. He had red streaks on his face that came from sleeping on a wrinkly fabric. He let himself fall next to you on the sofa, lleaned back and closed his eyes again, grumbling a sleepy. “Good morning Y/N.”

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you said softly, turning your attention back to your book. He hummed in acknowledgement, still not opening his eyes. "Got any plans today?" "Not really," you murmured, tucking your feet under yourself. He opened one eye. “You don’t have work today?” "I have the morning shift in the cinema tomorrow, but that doesn’t start until ten, so technically, I could sleep in. The studio is closed on weekends." "Mm," he grunted. "At least two days of the week you don’t have to run out the door at seven.” You let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. It’s nice to sleep in." The conversation faded into silence. The living room was warm, the kind of thick, humid heat that made everything feel slower in the middle of summer. But with all the windows open, a soft breeze drifted through the apartment, making the living room curtains sway gently.

You shifted your focus back onto your book. The slow and soft breathing that came from Sunghoon made you think he fell asleep again. You had noticed over the course of the last week that Sunghoon wasn’t a morning person. He was always grumpy in the morning, but still polite and nice to you. Just as you were finishing your chapter his voice suddenly broke the silence in the living room. "What are you reading?" You blinked, lowering the book slightly. He was still sprawled out on the couch, but his eyes were open now, watching you. "Uh," you turned the book over, showing him the cover. "It’s a novel I’ve been meaning to read for a while. Haven’t had time during the semester."

He nodded slowly. "You like reading?"

"I do." “My friend Jay’s girlfriend also really loves reading. She is super crazy. She reads like a book or two a week.”, he tilted his head slightly. „What is this one about?“

“Teenage summer love? Something along those lines. I am not that far in yet so I can’t really tell you more to be honest.“, you turned the book around in your hands and looked at the cover. „Teens? Aren’t you too old for that?“, Sunghoon hummed, shifting slightly so he was lying on his side, head propped up on one arm. “You are never too old or too young for love, Sunghoon.”, you answered, opening your book again. It was ironic. Really. You only knew love from books and TV shows. Those overly dramatic or romantic relationships between two overly attractive persons are written to always have a happy ending. In reality, love doesn’t end in happy ends. Or most of the time it didn’t, so you didn’t even want to try it out. Better not get to know something you could lose forever, right? The thought made you sign quietly. Sunghoon was quiet for a moment. "You open all the windows every morning." You looked up and blinked at him. "Yeah. The air feels stuffy otherwise." Sunghoon nodded. "You don’t open mine."

You hesitated. On the first day, you almost did. You almost opened the door opposite to yours in the hallway when you just woke up. You liked to open the windows in the morning. When the air was still fresh and not too warm. "I don’t want to overstep." He exhaled a soft laugh. "Don’t worry. I‘ll just open it myself now. Then you can’t overstep anything." You smiled faintly. "Thank you." For a while, there was nothing but the occasional rustling of your pages and the sound of cars in the distance. Then Sunghoon spoke again. He didn’t seem like a person that talked a lot. But apparently, he had the desire to talk to you sometimes. He would come to your room or the kitchen when you were there and strike up conversations. It was nice. Sunghoon was nice.

You did google him and asked Sunoo about Sunghoon when you were working the Wednesday shift in the cinema together. Wednesday was always slow. Not that you minded. That gave you plenty of time to talk to Sunoo or Jungwoon. Sunoo was surprised when you told him who just moved in. Apparently, Sunghoon was known across the sports and business faculties. He attended their parties together with his friends a lot. According to Sunoo, Sunghoon is really nice. "Do you miss home?" The question caught you off guard. You looked at him again, only to find that he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling. You hesitated before answering. "Sometimes." Sunghoon nodded slowly. „It must be weird to move from such a small town to Seoul. I grew up in Suwon but I think I spend more time in Seoul than anywhere else. My childhood and teenage years took place in ice rinks in Seoul.“

You thought for a second. It was weird. The house you grew up in was always loud. Either your brothers or the guests downstairs in the restaurant were constantly talking or making noises and suddenly you were in this apartment, all alone and it was silent. You really disliked it. You spend quite a lot of time calling your friends or family members in the beginning until you adjust to the silence. After you finished your first year Mark finished his mandatory military service and resumed studying and working in Seoul as well. It was still almost an hour-long bus ride to go to his dorm but it was better than 5 hours to Busan. Taeyong went back to Tongyeong to help your parents. He loved the little restaurant and most importantly he loved the new doctor in Tongyeong. He and Johnny got together back in high school and have been together ever since. Johnny came back to your hometown to take over his father's doctor's office. You loved Johnny. He was fun. When you were younger he always brought you expensive presents and never said no if you asked for ice cream when you were out with him and Taeyong. Taeyong and Johnny were almost 7 years older than you so they were tasked with babysitting you when your parents needed someone to do so quite often. You missed all of them a lot.

„Yeah. It’s weird. It’s so quiet and loud here at the same time. At home you rarely hear this many cars passing by but my family is quite loud so living alone is very quiet?“, you put in a bookmark to not lose your page. You assumed Sunghoon was in the mood to talk right now. „Really? Do you have siblings?“, he tilted his head slightly. His hair flopped down. You hummed and nodded. „3 brothers. All older. 7 years, 4 years and 3 years. What about you?“ „I have one sister. 5 years younger than me. And a dog. “, he chuckled. „Oh, that’s nice. I always wanted a pet. But my parents wouldn’t allow it. They were busy enough with 4 kids and a restaurant.“ "Your parents still run it?" Sunghoon asked. "Yeah," you answered quietly. He nodded. "Do you help out?" "Not really," you admitted. "My parents always told me to focus on my studies and made my brothers help them. I did help if they let me. I usually cleaned out flat though. I like the area I live in to be really clean and growing up my brothers weren’t the cleanest.“ Sunghoon hummed. „Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think that’s pretty nice. That you are such a clean person I mean. I love my old roommate but he left his shit everywhere and should be sued for noise complaints 24/7. That guy never shuts up.“ „Oh that sounds annoying.“, you kept your voice soft. “It’s all right. Now I don't have to tell him to wash the dishes or to not scream at his internet friends in the middle of the night.”, he hummed and lifted himself from the sofa, “Do you want some breakfast? I was thinking about going for a run and getting something from the Creek. My friend’s girlfriend works there and I can get us free stuff?” “I uhm. I already ate. But thank you so much for offering.”, you smiled at him. “Sure, always.”, Sunghoon smiled at you. ──────────────────────── Sunghoon wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as he stepped back into the apartment. It was still cold in the apartment. You must have closed the windows after he left. You never really used the AC in the mornings. You let the early morning breeze cool the place down and waited until it got too warm, until you couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t really get why, but he wasn’t home much in the afternoons, so it didn’t matter. He was actually quite glad about the warmth after he spent all day in the rink. It felt kind of nice.

His run had been good. He liked going on runs. It felt refreshing. It took his mind off of things for a while. But by the time he finished his run and he stepped into the Creek the sun had started blazing. After he spent way too much time talking to Jay, who was doing god what in the small campus cafe while his girlfriend was on shift, he stepped out and was hit by a wall of heat. The cool air in the apartment made him feel a bit less sticky. He dropped the bag of food onto the kitchen counter, his eyes scanning the room. It was still quiet. His gaze flickered toward the living room. You were still lying on the sofa. Your legs were slightly bent and your arms were in awkward positions. One was sprawled across your face, blocking your face from the light coming in through the living room windows. The other one was resting loosely over your stomach. The book you had been reading was lying on the floor next to you, seemingly having slipped from your hand when you fell asleep.

He quietly walked towards the sofa and reached down to pick the book up. Sunghoon slipped the bookmark that was still resting on the sofa table in between the pages and his fingers brushed over the creased cover before setting it on the table. He knew the book. His sister read it last year and wouldn’t shut up about it. You must have enjoyed the book. You’ve read a big chunk of it already. Sunghoon made his way back to the kitchen and cursed whatever architect designed your flat for deciding on building an open-style kitchen. The open-style kitchen was what sold him on the place, but now, with only a kitchen pass-through separating the two spaces, it also meant that if he used the coffee machine, it would definitely wake you up. He signed and grabbed the orange juice jug in the fridge instead. That was healthier anyway. As he poured himself a glass, his eyes landed on the vase near the window. The tulips inside were starting to wilt, slowly letting their heads hang down and a few white petals were laying on the window sill. Without thinking he got up, grabbed the vase and changed the water. Maybe that would keep them alive for a bit longer.

Sunghoon set the vase back down, watching another petal slowly making its way down towards the window still. He would drop a few coins in the vase later. Wasn’t that supposed to help keep flowers fresh longer? Having fresh flowers around made the kitchen look more alive. The whole apartment actually. It was clean, something he appreciated, but it still felt lived-in. Your personal style was different from his. The walls were painted in a pale green and you hung pictures and paintings along the walls, antique-looking candle holders and books were lined on the white shelves. It reminded him of older European-style houses, those that he had only seen in movies or pictures. When he helped you clean his room last week, he tried not to look too closely at the sketches you were carrying. But the ones he did catch a glimpse of? Almost all of them were of European-style houses. Tall, elegant, full of intricate details. You must really like that style. Sunghoon chewed slowly and glanced at you again. In the seven days that he has been living here he hasn’t seen you this still? Usually, you were always moving, rushing almost. Even in the evening, when you shuffled into the kitchen before heading to bed, there was a quiet urgency to your movements. Like you were always on the clock. He knew he was privileged. He knew that his parents were making enough money for him not to worry, especially not when he and his sister both got scholarships. His sister still had two years of High School to go, but had been offered the scholarship already, just like he had been. But you did have a scholarship as well. And the rent wasn’t too high. So why were you working so much? It wasn’t his place to ask. But he was curious. After all, he hoped to befriend you at least a bit.

Just as he was finishing off the last of his food, he heard you stir. At first, it was just a sleepy shift, a small stretch of your legs. But then, your eyelids fluttered, and with a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself up, blinking blearily at the room. “Morning.” Your gaze flickered to him, still half-asleep. “Morning,” you murmured back, your voice soft. He hesitated for a second before nodding toward the counter. “I got you something.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, then followed his gaze to the extra plate. You stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You didn’t have to.” “I know,” he said simply. “I got them for free so I thought I’d just bring you one.” You hummed again before flopping back onto the sofa, singing softly and stretching again. He watched you push yourself up from the couch and paddle over to the kitchen, yawning softly. You sank onto the stool across from him, glancing down at the pastry before picking it up. “Thanks, Sunghoon,” you said, your voice still quiet. He only shrugged, watching as you took a small bite.

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the sound of birds outside filtering in through the open windows. The heat of summer was already creeping in, but the slight morning breeze kept it bearable. Then, before he could stop himself, he spoke. “Would you mind it if I put on some music? I have a really nice summer morning playlist.” You shook your head. “No, go ahead.” Sunghoon hummed and searched for his morning R’n’B playlist. “So what do you do on your day off?” You shrugged. “Laundry. Grocery shopping. Sometimes I sleep in.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really making the most of your free time.” You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t have much free time, so I have to use it well.” Sunghoon thought about that for a second. It made sense. He understood what it was like to have every second of your day planned out, to always have something you were supposed to be doing.

“How was your week?” he asked, surprising even himself. You swallowed the bite you just took and for a second the only noise in the kitchen was the soft music coming from the speaker on top of the fridge. “Busy. The office was hectic, and I had a lot of late shifts at the cinema. I didn’t really have much time for myself.”, you answered. He nodded. “Mine was busy too. Training’s been rough.” You tilted your head slightly. “Do you train every day?" “Yeah. Well, almost. I get a rest day here and there.” He stretched slightly. “But even on those, I still have to stay active.” You hummed, considering that. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s just… normal now.” You took another bite of your pastry, glancing at him. “You must really love it, then.” Sunghoon was quiet for a second. He did love it. Skating had been his entire life for as long as he could remember. It was just strange hearing someone say it like that. Then, he nodded. “Yeah. I do.” You smiled slightly, resting your chin on your hand. “That’s nice. I like to paint. On my days off I mean. I have to be creative for uni so much. But I love painting other stuff aside from houses as well.”

Sunghoons eyes immediately wandered towards the painting that hung in the kitchen. It was two pieces of kimchi, the cabbage split in half, sitting neatly on a plate on a striped fabric with some typography at the bottom of it. He was never good at English and the letters were cursive and ornate so he had a hard time figuring out what it said. “Did you paint that one?”, he asked. You were in the middle of drinking water, and for a second, he thought you might choke. But you quickly swallowed and cleared your throat. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you said, setting your glass down. “Last summer break. It’s oil, so it took an eternity to dry. But, uh, the sun helped." He tilted his head back toward the painting. “Oh wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s so cool. Are the other ones yours too?” “Uh. Yeah.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and suddenly looked very interested in your glass of water. “I was feeling, um, really inspired last year. And my brother got me oil paints for my birthday.”

Sunghoon watched as you let out a small, breathy laugh, your fingers gripping the glass a little too tight. “I’d never really had the chance to paint with oils before,” you continued, words coming out a little too fast, “since they’re super expensive. But, uh, money well spent, I guess?” He looked back at the paintings again, his gaze lingering for a moment. It was really well done. “You know,” he added, voice dropping a little in awe, “I don’t think I’d be able to do that. Like, paint something like this. It’s pretty... impressive.” You quickly looked away, like you didn’t know what to do with the compliment. And then, you laughed. A weird, nervous little laugh, as if he’d just told a joke instead of genuinely complimenting you.

“Oh, no, I mean–it’s just practice, really,” you blurted out, waving a hand in the air. “It’s not like–it’s not, like, some crazy talent or anything, it’s just… you do it enough, and it sort of, um, happens?” Sunghoon blinked at you. He wasn’t sure why, but it was kind of funny watching you trip over your words like that. You looked like you wanted to disappear. “Still,” he said, amused now, “it’s really cool.” You made a weird, stiff nod, then immediately picked up your water again and took the smallest possible sip. Sunghoon bit back a smile. He wasn’t sure why you were acting so flustered, but it was… kind of entertaining. ──────────────────────── You stepped into your apartment, shivering slightly at the cool air pressing against your skin.

Sunghoon must have turned on the AC again. It was nearly 35 degrees outside, but inside, it was much colder. You never really liked using the AC too much. It used a lot of electricity and the temperature drop always left you uncomfortable. You shouldn’t have to wear long sleeves in summer. But Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind the cold. Given how much time he spent at the ice rink, you supposed he was used to it. His skin was pale compared to yours. As a child, you have always been a bit self-conscious about how dark your skin was compared to the ones of the actors or celebrities you saw on TV. But most of the people around you had tan skin. Living in the South meant you spent a lot of time in the sun after school or when playing with friends. You enjoyed being outside in the sun, letting the warm ray of sunshine hit your skin, having to eat ice cream quickly before it melted in your hands. What you really disliked was the constant smell of fish everywhere, but that was a given thing, considering one of the dishes Tongyeong is famous for is Chungmu gimbab. It is usually served with a baby octopus with spicy sauce (kolddugi muchim) and radish kimchi. Your mother made really yummy kolddugi muchim. Maybe you still had some in your freezer.

You placed your shoes neatly next to Sunghoons by the door and stepped further into the cool apartment. The sound of the television playing in the background hummed through the air. When you looked over, you saw Sunghoon sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, eyes focused on the screen. You hesitated for a second, not really sure what to say if you should say anything at all. You didn’t want to disturb Sunghoon and make him miss something in his show. But before you could decide, Sunghoon reached for the remote and lowered the volume. His head turned toward you. “Hey.” You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Hi.” He sat up slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “How was work?” You paused by the fridge, fingers hovering over the handle. He asked the same thing yesterday, and the day before. You weren’t sure if he asked just to be polite or if he actually wanted to know. Either way, it was nice.

So, after a beat, you pulled the freezer open and started shuffling through the bags of frozen fruits or vegetables. “It was fine. Busier than usual.” Sunghoon tilted his head. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you said, smiling when you found the container with kolddugi muchim that was at the bottom of the freezer. “It’s usually not that packed during summer shifts, but today was weirdly busy.” You took a sip before adding, “At least Sunoo was there. It was fun with him." Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, his gaze flicking back to the screen for a moment. “Who’s Sunoo?” You hesitated slightly before standing up from the crouching position you were in. “My friend and coworker, I guess. He works the counter with me.” Sunghoon nodded slowly. “You work with him a lot?” You frowned slightly at the question. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” he said, shrugging. “Just wondering.” You didn’t know what to make of that, so you let it go, turning back to the counter to start defrosting your food. Your favourite pot was still in the dishwasher, it hadn’t been run today. There weren’t any new dishes in the sink either. You hesitated for a second. “Have you eaten lunch today?”, you asked, glancing over your shoulder. Sunghoon looked at you, almost like he was caught off guard by the question. “Uh… no. I was too lazy to cook, so I just had a protein shake.” You frowned slightly. A protein shake was not a meal. You shifted your weight, debating for a second before clearing your throat. “Do you… want some? I’m making kolddugi muchim and rice. It’s too much for just me anyway.” His eyes lit up a little, his usual neutral expression shifting. “Oh, for sure. That sounds way better than another shake.” You nodded, a little awkward as you turned back to the counter.

Sunghoon stood up, stretching slightly. “Need help with anything?” You’ve gotten used to him wearing joggers and tank tops over the last week. That didn’t mean that seeing him in those didn’t make you feel like you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have seen. “Um.” You thought for a second. “Could you go to the GS25 down the street and get some mu kimchi? Only if it’s no trouble. I can go too.” He waved you off, already grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in a sec.” The apartment fell silent again as the door shut behind Sunghoon. You stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint dialogue from the drama still playing on TV. Then, shaking off the quiet, you turned back to the stove. The scent of simmering garlic and gochugaru filled the air, thick and warm. It clung to the fabric of your clothes and seeped into the walls of the small kitchen.

You closed your eyes for a second. It smelled like home. Like summer afternoons in the restaurant, your mother’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. The ajummas asking you and Mark how your day was, praising you for being so well behaved. The sharp tang of kimchi mingling with the sweetness of caramelized fish sauce. The distant sound of seagulls outside, the heavy heat of the South pressing against the window screens. You exhaled, opening your eyes again. Swallowing the sudden ache, you focused on stirring the sauce for the kolddugi muchim, watching the deep red paste thicken over the heat. Cooking had always been something comforting, something familiar. You never saw yourself working in the restaurant after you finished high school but you missed living by the sea, close to your family. You were so happy when Mark moved to Seoul. Was it weird that you asked Sunghoon if he wanted food? Usually, if Mark was over for a weekend or just after he finished uni and work for the day it was a given that you cooked for him as well. Eating is supposed to be an activity to do with loved ones after all. Before you could dwell on it too much, the door clicked open again.

Sunghoon stepped back inside, a small plastic bag in his hand. “Got it.” You turned, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. “That was fast.” He shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. “I have long legs.” You glanced inside, pulling out the package of mu kimchi. “Thanks.” “No problem,” he said, leaning against the counter. His eyes flicked to the stove. “It smells really good.” You didn’t know if he meant it or was just making conversation, but either way, you liked hearing that. “It’s my mom’s. She gives me containers of this stuff every time I visit home. Sometimes I have to eat kolddugi muchim for days after I’ve been home because it wouldn’t fit into the freezer.”, you chuckled thinking about it. “Oh, I wouldn’t complain about eating kolddugi muchim for days. If it tastes as well as it smells I’ll gladly help you eat some of the kolddugi muchim you can’t fit into the freezer.”, Sunghoon grinned and reached up to grab two sets of plates and bowls from the cabinet.

You just nodded and smiled at him while dropping the still slightly frozen baby octopus into your mom’s premade sauce. The sizzling of the pan was the only sound for a few moments. “I’ll go and turn off the TV. I’ll be right back.”, Sunghoon said and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later the music box he placed in the kitchen made a sound and Sunghoon’s playlist hummed through the speakers. You weren’t sure if he turned it on just to fill the silence or if he actually wanted to listen to music, but either way, you didn’t mind. By the time he returned from turning off the TV, you were both ready to eat. Sunghoon sat across from you, piling some of the baby octopus onto his plate. “So, are you allowed to sneak me free popcorn at the theatre?” You blinked at him, caught off guard, before letting out a small laugh. “No.”

“Not even a little?” he pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Nope.” You shook your head, scooping some rice onto your spoon. “If I got caught, I’d probably get scolded. We’re supposed to charge for everything.” Sunghoon sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Man, I thought I could use you for a continuous flow of premium popcorn.” “Yeah. Sadly that’s not possible.”, you smiled and scrunched your nose a bit. Sunghoon picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the kolddugi muchim. You watched, suddenly unsure if you maybe had made a mistake with the sauce, or overcooked the octopus. But then, his brows lifted slightly, and he gave a small nod. “This is good.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Really?”

He hummed. “Yeah. I don’t eat baby octopus much, but this is nice.” A strange sense of relief settled in your chest. You took a small bite yourself, humming in delight when it did indeed taste good. Not as good as if your mom made it freshly but it was still yummy. You’d call our mom later to thank her for cooking for you. By the time you were both finished eating, you felt exhausted. Standing and smiling at customers for hours was always exhausting, no matter which shift you had. You stood, grabbing your plate, but Sunghoon reached out before you could take his. “I got it.” You blinked. “You don’t have to–” He was already stacking the dishes. “You cooked. I’ll wash.” You hesitated, but after a second, you nodded. “Okay.” ──────────────────────── A few days later Sunghoon came home from the rink and was ready to just drop into his bed, maybe eat something if he still had eggs in the fridge. He signed when he opened the door to your apartment. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed it wasn’t silent, how it usually was.

Soft music played from the speaker in the kitchen, something mellow, with a steady rhythm. He frowned slightly, slipping off his shoes. You were usually still at work or in your room when he got home. But now, as he stepped further inside, he saw you sitting at the kitchen table, completely absorbed in whatever you were doing. You were painting. Your brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in focus. The soft light of the kitchen lamp illuminated your face, casting a warm glow on your skin. Sunghoon found himself pausing, watching as you carefully dragged your brush across the canvas. “You’re painting?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the music. You flinched, clearly startled, before looking up at him. “Oh–yeah. They sent the interns home earlier today. I’ve been thinking about adding a second painting to the living room, if that’s fine with you.”

Sunghoon dropped his bag by the couch, stepping closer. “Yeah, sure. Go on Y/Nasso.” You hesitated for a moment before tilting your canvas slightly so he could see. It wasn’t finished yet. Soft, blended strokes created what looked like an ocean scene. The colours melted into each other, deep blues fading into lighter shades. “That’s really good,” Sunghoon said, his voice a little softer than usual. He wasn’t trying to flatter you. He genuinely thought it was impressive. You blushed a little, glancing down at the painting. “Thanks,” you murmured. “It’s the view from one of my favourite beaches in Tongyeong.” He pulled out a chair across from you, sitting down. “Do you still paint often?”

“Not really,” you admitted, dipping your brush into the water before reaching for a new colour. “I used to do it more. Back home.” He watched as you mixed a soft peachy hue, the movement of your hand precise, practised. “Why’d you stop?” You shrugged, not looking up. “I don’t know. Just got busy, I guess.” Sunghoon hummed in understanding, leaning back in his chair. He knew what that felt like, the way life could pull you away from things you enjoyed. “What made you start again?” For a moment, you didn’t answer. Then, finally, you sighed, glancing out the window. “I just… missed it. And I had some free time today so I thought I could use it by doing something I love.” Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze flickering back to your painting After a moment, he stood up, stretching. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your masterpiece.” You rolled your eyes but smiled slightly. “It’s not a masterpiece.” “Yet,” he said, smirking before heading toward the fridge. “Have you had dinner?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.” Sunghoon opened the fridge, rummaging through it. “Want me to make something? I was thinking of kimchi fried rice.”, he asked, half-expecting you to decline. You hesitated but then nodded. “Okay.” As he started pulling ingredients out, the quiet music continued playing, filling the space between you. He noticed that you replaced the flowers in the kitchen. The white tulips were gone and you changed the vase. The freesias you bought were arranged neatly in the window frame. His little sister was obsessed with flowers and made him learn the names of at least 30 different ones. They were pretty. Your voice startled him a bit when you started speaking. “How was your day today?” Sunghoon paused mid-chop, surprised. You usually didn’t really initiate conversations, so this was a first. “It was good,” he said, continuing to chop the vegetables. “Tiring, but good. My routine is a bit intense.” He turned toward you, his eyes catching yours for a moment. “How about you? How’s work been?”

You paused for a second, looking up from your canvas. “Not much happened today, so pretty chill actually,” you said, your voice light. “I am glad.”, he replied with a small nod. Then, after a brief pause, he said, “Have you ever been ice skating?” You blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. “Me? Ice skating?" “Yeah,” he grinned. You shook your head and focused back on the canvas in front of you. “No, I haven’t tried it yet. I was thinking about going last winter. But my friends and I didn’t really have time for it. And we don’t really get snow or ice at home.” Sunghoon leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he looked at you. “Wait so you have never seen snow?” You glanced up at him, a small, unsure smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve been living here for 2 years now. I have seen snow in Seoul.”

“That’s insane,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What did you even do in the winter?”

You hesitated for a second, then quietly said, “Just… normal things? It wasn’t that different. We had the ocean instead of snow.”

Sunghoon huffed out a quiet laugh. “The ocean is great, but winter is so much better when you have snow.”

You gave a quiet laugh, your gaze dropping back to your painting. “Maybe. I don't like the cold tho.”

“Nah, you’re just missing out.” He straightened up, turning back to the stove to check on the food. “Do you want to learn how to skate?”

“I am not sure I would be good at it," you said.

“Well, good thing that I am very good at it. My friend Jake was able to teach his girlfriend how to skate so I am sure you could do it as well. It’s fun. You should definitely try.”

You hummed noncommittally and started to clean up the table.

Sunghoon focused on finishing preparing the food. It was nothing fancy, just stir-fried vegetables, kimchi and rice with some grilled chicken, but it smelled good. He set a plate in front of you before grabbing his own and sitting across from you at the table.

He made enough for the two of you, actually it was probably not enough for the both of you – or so he thought. But when you finished putting food onto your plate, he stared. His brows furrowed.

“…That’s all you’re eating?”

You looked up, blinking at him. “Yeah? Why?”

Sunghoon glanced between his plate and yours, then back again. His plate was nearly overflowing, while yours looked like what he considered a snack at best.

“That’s like, half of what I made for you,” he pointed out, still frowning.

You just shrugged. “I don’t eat a lot in one sitting.”

Sunghoon stared for another second before looking down at his own food. How were you even functioning on that?

He wasn’t exactly an expert on how much people should eat, but compared to his own portions – hell, even compared to what his sister or his mom ate – yours seemed ridiculously small.

His first instinct was to tell you to take more, but he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Instead, he picked up his chopsticks. He felt a bit weird about it but decided not to push.

The silence between you was comfortable, only broken by the occasional clinking of utensils against plates and the quiet music playing from the speaker.

After a few minutes, he spoke again. “You know,” he said casually, “you should come to one of my competitions sometime.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “Your competitions?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back slightly. “They’re pretty cool.”

You took a sip of your water, considering. “Maybe,” you said finally.

Sunghoon smirked. “That’s not a no.”

You gave him a little smile. “I’ll think about it.”

That made him smile too.

All through the dinner his eyes kept drifting to your plate. He’d never really paid attention before, but now he was wondering – was this just a today thing, or was this normal for you He always assumed you ate a few snacks at the company or the theatre but if you were eating just this little portion, but maybe you really only ate the small pre-prepped lunch boxes, that were neatly stacked in the fridge. ──────────────────────── Sunghoon had just finished mixing his protein shake when he heard keys jingle and the front door swung open.

He frowned, setting the shaker bottle down. You weren’t supposed to be home yet. It wasn’t even 4 p.m. Had your shift ended early?

Still, he greeted you out of habit. “Hey, Y/N–”

But the person standing in the doorway was definitely not you.

Sunghoon froze. The guy in the doorway froze too.

For a long second, they just stared at each other, equally confused.

Sunghoon slowly lowered his shaker bottle. Who the hell–

“Uh…” the guy started, blinking a few times like he was trying to process the situation. Then, he pointed at Sunghoon. “You’re not Y/N.”

“No,” Sunghoon said flatly. “I’m not.”

The guy frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Then… who are you?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “I live here. Who are you?”

The guy’s face shifted as realization dawned on him. His confusion melted into something amused.

“Ohhh,” he said, dragging out the word. Then, he grinned and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Oh.

Wait.

Mark as in your boyfriend Mark?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward the fridge before he could stop himself. The slightly curled postcard from Busan hung beside a few photos he had found himself staring at more than once in the past week and a half. Mark was in a lot of them. Always close to you, arms slung around your shoulders, laughing together.

Sunghoon quickly cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Sunghoon.”

Mark hummed, already toeing off his sneakers. “Is Y/N still at work?” He dropped his bag by the door and strolled toward the kitchen.

Sunghoon, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, hesitated before answering. “Uh… yeah? She usually gets home around 4:30. Sometimes a bit earlier.”

Mark nodded, completely unfazed. “Alright, cool.”

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he reached into a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Sunghoon nearly choked on air.

“What?” He spun around so fast that he nearly knocked over his protein shake.

Mark just shrugged, sipping his water like this was a completely normal conversation. “Y/N didn’t tell me she was seeing someone. Or, well… seeing someone seriously enough to let him move in with her.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. What. The. Hell.

“I hope it’s been at least half a year and you didn’t just sweet-talk her into letting you move in after, like, two months.” Mark narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Why–why would I be Y/N’s boyfriend?” Sunghoon blurted.

Isn’t Mark the boyfriend?! What was happening?

Mark gave him a look. “Dude,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You literally just said you live here.”

“Yeah, because I’m her roommate,” Sunghoon said, still trying to process this ridiculous conversation. “I pay rent and shit to be here.”

Mark blinked. “Wait. You’re her roommate?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon gestured vaguely at the apartment. “What else would I be?”

Mark tilted his head, considering. Then he shrugged. “I dunno, her boyfriend?”

Sunghoon let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Dude, I thought you were her boyfriend.”

Mark burst out laughing.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking genuinely amused. “Oh, nah.” He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m her brother.”

Sunghoon’s brain short-circuited.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Brother.

Oh. Okay.

Now that he really looked, Mark did have similar features to you.

Mark just grinned, clearly entertained by the situation. “Damn, you really thought Y/N was cheating on me?”

Sunghoon groaned, leaning against the counter. “Can we not phrase it like that?”

Mark cackled. “That’s wild.”

Before Sunghoon could recover from the secondhand embarrassment of his own assumption, the front door suddenly swung open again.

“Oh my god,” your voice rang through the apartment, full of surprise and excitement. “Mark?!”

Sunghoon turned his head just in time to see you practically launch yourself at your brother. Mark barely had time to put down his glass before you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming! I thought you were still at home!” You grinned up at him, eyes shining.

Mark ruffled your hair like it. “I wanted to surprise you. Taeyong packed you a snack box from home. Mom and Johnny’s Mom added some stuff too. You know, since you can’t come home.”

Your face lit up. “No way.”

Mark smirked. “Way.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, just watched as you glowed with excitement over the snacks and goodies from home.

But before he could fully process how different you looked right now—so happy, so genuinely overjoyed—Mark turned to you with an easy grin.

“So…” He dragged out the word, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Sunghoon felt the moment you went stiff in Mark’s arms.

Your expression twisted in confusion. “What?”

Mark jerked his thumb toward Sunghoon. “You didn’t tell me you were dating your roommate.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then, your entire face went red.

Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you from where he stood.

“What?” you repeated, blinking rapidly.

Mark just smirked, clearly enjoying this. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” He gestured toward Sunghoon, who was still standing there like an idiot.

Your eyes darted to Sunghoon like you were expecting him to say something but Sunghoon’s brain was still buffering.

Because all he could think about was how genuinely happy you had looked when you saw Mark.

He had never seen you like this.

So expressive. So open.

The way your face had lit up, the way your voice had lifted into something bright and completely unfiltered, it was cute. And, selfishly, Sunghoon wondered why.

Why did you always hold back a little around him? The small, bashful smiles, the careful responses. Was he that intimidating? He was trying so hard to get to know you, to be a good roommate that would turn into a friend.

“We’re not dating.” Sunghoon finally managed, his voice a little more rushed than intended. “I’m just her roommate.”

You exhaled, pressing your hands to your very red cheeks. “Yes. He’s my roommate.”

Mark raised a brow, clearly not convinced.

“Right,” he said slowly, crossing his arms. “So you just let random guys move in with you now?”

“I didn’t—it’s not—” You groaned. “It’s a long story.”

Sunghoon, for some reason, felt the need to defend himself. “It’s not weird, okay? We barely even knew each other when I moved in.”

Mark snorted. “That makes it sound so much worse.”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. Okay, fair.

You groaned again, looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Mr. Kang is renting the second room to Sunghoon.”

“No way. Your studio?”, Mark asked and looked at Sunghoon as if he had personally had the intention to steal your studio from you.

“Yeah. It’s all right though. I always knew he could rent it out to someone that will show up.”, you leaned against the counter next to Mark.

Mark was still looking at Sunghoon, but his facial expression had changed from accusation to something that looked like interest.

“Anyway,” he said focusing back on you, “Do you wanna open the package? I am praying that Johnny put in some of those dope cookies from the bakery under his office. If he did, I am claiming one-half.”

At that, your face brightened again, and Sunghoon caught himself watching the shift in your expression again.

The way your eyes widened, the slight bounce in your stance, the way you leaned in just a little closer to Mark.

Mark unzipped the bag and pulled out a medium-sized cardboard box, setting it on the counter with a slight thud.

Your hands were already on the tape, peeling it open. “You had four weeks to eat the cookies from ppangjib. You get one. Or maybe two."

Mark grinned. “Deal.”

Sunghoon, though still a little confused by the whole situation, couldn’t help but glance into the box as you pulled back the flaps. Inside were neatly packed bags of homemade snacks, a few small wrapped gifts, and a handwritten letter sitting on top.

You immediately grabbed the letter, unfolding it with the kind of excitement that was usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

While you skimmed it, Mark reached into the box and pulled out a small bag of yakgwa, grinning. “Oh, sick. Mom made you some yakgwa.”

“No way.” You grabbed the bag from him, grinning just as wide.

Sunghoon almost asked what was so special about it–but then he checked the time.

Shit.

He had to get to training.

With a sigh, he grabbed his shaker bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I gotta head out,” he said, glancing between the two of you. “Enjoy your snacks.”

You looked up from the letter. “Oh–right! You have training tonight.”

He nodded, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Mark, already chewing on a piece of yakgwa, gave him a lazy salute. “Have fun, man.”

Sunghoon huffed a small laugh before turning toward the door. ──────────────────────── On the second Saturday after Sunghoon moved in, a soft knock on your door startled you from where you were curled up in your bed reading. “Yeah?” you called out, glancing toward the door. Sunghoon’s head appeared in the gap, his figure half-hidden behind the doorframe. “Hey,” he began, “a few of my friends want to come over and check out the apartment. Is that fine with you? I know you’ve got work tomorrow, but I promise we’ll keep it down when you want to head to bed.” You shifted slightly in your bed, sitting up to get a better look at him. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he seemed a little sheepish like he wasn’t sure whether he was imposing. You smiled, the question barely making you think. “Oh, that's not a problem, Sunghoon. You live here too, after all. It’s not like I’m going to stop you from having friends over.” You stretched a little, trying to shake off the sleepiness in your limbs. “I don’t mind at all. I’m just reading anyway. Besides, it’s your apartment too.” He relaxed at your response, the tension in his posture easing as he gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks,” he said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’ll let them know we’ll keep it low-key.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “No worries. You do you.” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Just don’t be too loud around midnight. I haven’t really had parties here so I don’t know if our neighbours are cool with noise or not?” He chuckled again. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “You can come hang out later. If you want to.” You nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small wave. “Ah. Uhm. Thanks. But I think I’m good. I’ll sleep soon anyway.”

Sunghoon grinned and gave a quick nod before closing the door behind him, leaving you in peace once again. You could hear him bustling around in the kitchen, probably making snacks or food for him and his friends. It was kind of weird. To have someone in your apartment this long that wasn’t Mark. But Sunghoon wasn’t the worst person to live with. He was a very clean person and living together with him these past weeks was really peaceful. You kinda liked having someone around in the evenings. Sometimes, especially during the summer break, you feel a bit lonely. Sure you met some of your friends in the studio or the cinema, but you were working there, not hanging out. So your small conversations were very nice. He was listening to a lot of music and he seemingly enjoyed having his room door open, so whenever you read or sketched in the kitchen or living room you listened to the music he was playing. ──────────────────────── At some point in the evening, your stomach started to growl. You cursed yourself for not having eaten more for lunch. You could hear laughing and music from the living room. Your stomach wouldn’t stop growling so you begrudgingly put your book away and stood up from your bed.

You hesitated for a moment when you reached your door. You weren’t really dressed for guests, let alone Sunghoon’s friends. You were still in your cosy striped pyjamas, hair braided messily from your earlier nap, and you hadn’t even bothered to put on any makeup. Your stomach growled again, which made you sign and push your door open. The laughter grew louder, and you could hear them chatting away in the kitchen.

As soon as you entered, four pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

Before you could even consider retreating, one of them looked up. He was tall, with sharp eyes and an easygoing smile. “Oh, hey!” he said like he wasn’t about to make your night significantly worse. “You must be Y/N.”

“Oh, uh–hi,” you said, your voice coming out slightly too high. Your fingers tugged nervously at your shirt.

Sunghoon turned to you, looking far too amused for your liking. “This is Jay, Heeseung, and Jake,” he said, nodding toward each of them. “Guys, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch. “Dude, your apartment is so nice,” he said. “Did you decorate it?”

You blinked. “Uh–what?”

“The apartment,” Jake chimed in, grinning. “It looks really good. Feels like a Pinterest board. My girlfriend would love it.”

“Oh! Um–yeah, I did?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, I just… put some things together. I like interior stuff, so…”

“Man, Sunghoon lucked out,” Jay said, shaking his head. “My first roommate had, like, one folding chair and a mattress on the floor.”

“Hey!?”, Heeseung said and turned to Jay, “I was your first roommate?”

“Yeah. And we have been living in our dorm for 3 years now. The only reason why you have more than your bed and a keyboard collection is because your girl made you buy a rug and some decoration.”, Jay deadpanned. “How did she phrase it again? She was glad you have a big dick and that she loves you but you but if she had to look at that keyboard corner again she would throw all of them away?”

Jake and Sunghoon snorted while Heeseung tried to defend himself: ”I bought those with her, okay, my room looks fine you stupid piece of shit.”

“See I am really happy to have Y/N as my roommate. She has rugs and decorations. And a normal amount of keyboards.”, Sunghoon grinned at you.

The guys laughed again, and you forced out a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, the paintings? Those are yours, right?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen. “They’re sick.”

You had already been flustered enough–first with the whole walking into a room full of good-looking strangers in your pyjamas situation, then with them complimenting your decorating, and now this.

Your paintings.

It was weird hearing people—people other than your brother or your friends—talk about them, at least the ones you had hung up here and at home. You weren’t used to it. It felt like they were looking at something too personal, like flipping through a journal you hadn’t meant to leave out.

“She’s really good,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his chair like he was enjoying this way too much. “But she gets all shy when people talk about it.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with betrayal. He just grinned.

“Did you paint all of them?” Jay asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Mostly last summer.”

“Damn,” Jake said, shaking his head. “That’s sick. I can barely draw a stick figure.”

You let out a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you.”

Before you could recover, Sunghoon gestured toward the pizza box. “Are you hungry? We ordered way too much.”

“Oh–no, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I was just going to warm up something from the fridge.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I swear this is so much and we are all supposed to watch over our diets. You’d be doing a good thing by stealing a slice or two.”, Jake said before stealing a gummy bear from Jay.

“…Maybe just one slice,” you mumbled.

Jake’s smile widened. “Sure, take as many as you want.”

He slid a plate toward you, and you shuffled over, still feeling painfully awkward. You perched on the arm of the couch next to Sunghoon, back stiff.

“Y/N.”, Heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “Are you coming to the beginning-of-the-semester party next Friday?”

You blinked. “The… what?”

Jay chuckled. “The semester opening party. Each semester one of the teams throws one, this semester it's the baseball players.”

“Oh.” You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You hadn’t even heard about it. You shifted slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I–um. I don’t really know. I usually work on Fridays, so…”

Jake tilted his head. “Yeah, Sunghoon did say you work a lot.”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated. You did work a lot. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have free time… you just never really did much with it.

Jake leaned in a little, his voice gentle. “If you don’t have work that night, you should come. It’s not, like, a crazy party or anything. Just fun. You can just hang out, meet some people.”

“You don’t even have to drink,” Jay added quickly. “I mean, most people do, but you don’t have to. There’s food. Music. It’s chill.”

You felt all their eyes on you, waiting for your answer. You shifted again, fingers curling around the edge of your plate.

“Oh. Um.” You wet your lips. “I’ll… think about it?”

Heeseung smiled, nodding. “That’s fair.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, no pressure.” ──────────────────────── Except that, it was pressure.

The hum of the popcorn machine filled the quiet lobby, the scent of butter lingering in the air. The morning shifts were always slow—just a few scattered customers, mostly older couples and parents wrangling excited kids. You handed a soda to a woman with two small boys, murmuring a polite “Enjoy your movie” as she thanked you and walked off.

Sunoo, who had been leaning against the counter snacking on popcorn, gave you a look. “Okay, spill.”

You frowned. “What?”

“You look weird.” He popped another kernel into his mouth. “A bit constipated. What are you thinking so deeply about?

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “…It’s nothing.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

You exhaled, already knowing you weren’t going to get away with it. “…Sunghoon’s friends came over last night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Heeseung, Jay, and Jake?”

You blinked surprised. “…How did you know?”

At the same time, you weren’t really surprised. Sunoo had a way of knowing everything and everyone. He was the definition of a social butterfly.

He grinned. “They’re his closest friends. He’s always with them.” Then, he leaned in. “Tell me more.”

You sighed, wiping your hands on a napkin. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just came over to see the apartment and hang out. I ran into them when I went to the kitchen.”

“And?” Sunoo prompted, eyes gleaming with interest.

“And… they were nice,” you admitted. “They complimented the apartment and–” you hesitated, then added reluctantly, “my paintings.”

Sunoo gasped dramatically. “No. Way.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, calm down.”

“No, because you get all shy when people talk about your art. How did you survive that?”

“I almost didn’t.” You groaned, covering your face. “Sunghoon called me out for being awkward about it.”

Sunoo cackled. “That is kind of funny.”

You shot him a glare. “Not to me.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, waving a hand. “And then?”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “They… invited me to a party next week.”

Sunoo froze.

His expression went from shocked to utterly gobsmacked in less than a second. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Wait like, the sports team party?”

“…I think?”

He gawked at you. “You think? Y/N, do you even realize how exclusive those are? The end and beginning of semester parties are mostly for the teams and their close friends.” He leaned in. “It’s at a different frat house each semester, but you have to know people to get in.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… I know people now?”

Sunoo smacked your arm lightly. “Oh my god, this is huge.”

“It’s really not.”

“It is.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You have to take me with you.”

You groaned. “Sunoo–”

“Please.” His eyes widened. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’d be insane not to go.”

You chewed on your lip. “I don’t know… I feel like I’d just be awkward.”

Sunoo softened slightly. “You might. But you might also have fun.”

You sighed.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you,” he promised. “I swear.”

You hesitated before finally mumbling, “…I’ll think about it.”

Sunoo beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Sunoo was not letting this go.

“You have to take me with you,” he said, gripping your wrist.

You groaned. “Sunoo.”

“Please.” His eyes widened dramatically. “Do you even understand what this means? This is like–like being invited to the Met Gala of frat parties.”

You gave him a look. “You are so dramatic.”

“Am I?” He scoffed. “Y/N, do you realize how hard it is to get into one of these? And you got invited. You!” He clutched his chest like he was about to faint.

You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Sunoo’s jaw dropped. “Not that big of a deal? Y/N, if I had even breathed in the direction of these parties before, I would’ve been escorted out.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. If not even Sunoo had been invited to one of these parties they probably were a big thing. Johnny was always talking about how he enjoyed going to parties. You loved hearing his and Taeyongs stories every time they came home. They did romanticize uni life a bit in your opinion. Or maybe you were just doing something wrong. Maybe you could try going to that party.

Sunoos face softened slightly. “Look,” he said, “I get it. Big parties aren’t your thing. And, yeah, it might be overwhelming at first. But, Y/N, you deserve to have fun.”

“I do have fun,” you muttered.

Sunoo gave you a knowing look. “Working and studying doesn’t count.”

You sighed.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll leave,” he promised. “I swear. I won’t ditch you. But at least try.”

You hesitated, staring at the counter, before finally mumbling, “…Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Sunoo grinned like he had already won. “That’s all I needed to hear.” ──────────────────────── It was way too early when you made your way through the market, near your apartment. Despite it being 7:30 am, the market was already bustling with life. It was never truly empty, and if it was then the stall owners made sure that it was at least as loud as it is with customers there. The air smelled like fresh produce and spice but the closer you got to the stand you needed to go the more the air smelled like flowers.

You stopped in front of a stall called ‘Spring Flowers Right Next to You' and greeted the elderly lady behind the stall with a warm smile. You stopped by once a week to buy your flowers, so the Ajumma greeted you with an even warmer smile. She reminded you a lot of your own grandmother.

"Good morning, Ajumma," you said, stepping closer.

"Ah, Y/N!", her hands were arranging some petals. "It’s so lovely to see you again, my child. Do you have any particular flowers in mind today?"

“Not really. I think I’ll just buy whatever speaks to me today.”, you answered, softly shaking your head.

You walked slowly, taking your time to browse through the vibrant bouquets and paused in front of the pink peonies. You’ve always loved peonies, but you really didn’t feel like having to carry them around all day, since a bouquet was quite big and your working space in the studio was quite small. Maybe you could give them to the lady at the front desk again. You continued to wander until you reached the chrysanthemums. The yellow ones were beautiful today. You reached out to gently touch one, admiring how full they were. They would go well with the new painting you had in mind for the kitchen. Maybe you could finish that before the flowers wilted.

You gathered a few of the flowers and walked back to the ajumma. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Yellow chrysanthemums today, Y/N? You usually stay with less vibrant colours.” You hummed when she started wrapping the flowers in some old newspaper. “Yeah. I thought I should try something new.”

Her face grew more serious, though still warm. “Yellow chrysanthemums can symbolize caution or a warning.”

You frowned slightly, taking in the flowers again. "Really?" You chuckled lightly, not taking it too seriously. "They’re so pretty, though."

The Ajumma gave you a small smile, "If you feel like buying them, then maybe be careful. Something might happen, my love."

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to react. "Oh," you said slowly. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a polite thank you, you paid and made your way out, chrysanthemums in hand.

As you left the market, the sunlight began to feel warmer, the air thick with the early morning heat. ──────────────────────── When you arrived home, Sunghoon was already there, his sneakers discarded by the door. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when he noticed the flowers in your hands.

“Oh hey you bought new flowers.”, he said smiling at you. "They look nice."

You smiled softly, setting them down on the counter. "Yeah, I thought they’d brighten things up a bit. I usually tend to go with softer colors or white but somehow the yellow spoke to me this morning."

He came over, inspecting them with a thoughtful expression. "I like how you always have flowers around here. It makes it feel more... cozy, I guess."

You nodded, while reaching for a new vase. “I like the way they make the place feel, too."

The freesias that were sitting in the window still were still blooming. You reached over the sink and grabbed the old flowers, putting them into the living room and exchanging them with the new chrysanthemums.

Sunghoon stood there for a moment, watching you work. He then shifted his weight, looking at you with a hint of curiosity. "So, have you thought about the party this weekend?"

You paused, your fingers lightly grazing the flowers in the vase as you considered his question. "I’m still not sure," you admitted softly, glancing up at him. "I mean, it’s just... I don’t know."

Sunghoon tilted his head, his eyes soft but insistent. "It’s going to be fun. You’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve to get out and relax." He stepped closer, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Think of it as roommate bonding time. I'd love to see you outside of the apartment too. You know, I’ve only seen you in PJs and your work outfits. I don’t even know if you have anything in your closet that's not suit pants or a gigantic washed out T-shirt."

You felt heat creep up your neck. He really hasn’t seen you in any normal outfits yet. You haven’t been spending your free time outside a lot, so you never wore anything aside from working uniforms and Pyjamas. You hesitated, feeling a bit nervous about the idea, but considering he and Sunoo both claimed you should spend more time outside of work and uni you probably should. You knew you should. You just sometimes, okay most of the times, felt a bit uncomfortable and too tired for social interactions, especially when you had to meet new people.

But the thought of spending time with Sunghoon outside the apartment felt a little exciting. He was quite nice and maybe you could turn from roommates to friends. You always thought you would struggle more when living in a shared apartment but Sunghoon somehow made it easy. You always feared you would feel uncomfortable outside of your room but you liked having Sunghoon`s presence around.

"Okay," you said, surprising yourself. "I’ll go."

Sunghoon's grin widened, clearly pleased. "That’s the spirit! I’ll make sure it’s a good time, I promise." ──────────────────────── By the time Sunghoon made it home, he was done.

Completely exhausted.

His entire body ached from training and his wrist was throbbing. If he wanted to keep up with his competition and impress the scouts for the Olympic team, his execution had to be perfect.

Perfect footwork. Perfect jumps. Perfect landings.

Too bad he’d wiped out twice today.

And landed on his wrist, both times. The neon pink tape Wonyoung put onto it helped slightly with the pain.

With a sigh, Sunghoon kicked off his sneakers and slung his bag onto the floor, barely mustering the energy to shuffle further inside.

The apartment smelled faintly of paint.

When he looked up, he found you sitting cross-legged on the floor, hunched over the coffee table, surrounded by brushes and tubes of oil paint. You were wearing an oversized lab coat with a few colourful smudges on the fabric. Your hair was in that same slightly messy braid you always did, a few strands falling loose around your face.

Sunghoon felt a strange, fleeting sense of familiarity at the sight. His younger sister used to wear her hair like that all the time, and at some point, she had forced him to learn how to braid too. He would also come home to find her sitting in front of the TV studying or eating hunched over the table.

Instead of heading straight to his room like he normally would after a brutal training session, he walked over to the couch and let himself collapse onto it with a groan.

You looked up. “Tough day?”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “You could say that.”

Your eyes flickered to his hands, and before he could stop you, you asked in a soft voice, “Did you fall?”

Sunghoon hesitated.

“Just a little.”

Your expression made it very clear you didn’t believe him.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” he admitted, rubbing the sore spot on his wrist. “Coach keeps drilling me on this footwork section. It’s not even the hardest part of my program, but I swear I’m losing my mind.”

You hummed in understanding, but your attention was already back on your painting.

That was fine. Sunghoon didn’t need a response. He just needed to sit here and let his brain switch off. It was nice that you were out of your room again. Usually, he didn’t see that much of you but you seemed to feel a bit more comfortable around him now, so you were more in the shared rooms of the apartment.

His eyes drifted back to the TV, catching sight of a painfully dramatic scene. The female lead was running in the rain, and the male lead was standing there, staring after her.

A few minutes passed before he finally asked, “What are you working on?”

You glanced at him, surprised. “It’s part of a series I’m doing.”

“Series?”

You nodded, hesitating a little before explaining, “I’ve been painting dishes from my childhood. Meals I grew up with, the ones that remind me of home.” You gestured toward your canvas. “This one is my mom’s kimchi jjigae. She used to make it whenever someone had a bad day.”

Sunghoon stared at the painting for a moment.

“That’s… really cool,” he found himself saying.

You blinked at him, clearly not expecting that either.

“Thanks,” you murmured, going back to your work.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sound coming from the TV. ──────────────────────── You yawned while opening the door, stepping into the apartment and kicking off your shoes. Work had drained you, and the thought of going to a party tonight made you feel even more exhausted. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or just the lingering headache, but either way, you needed a break before even thinking about getting ready.

“Hey,” you mumbled, rubbing at your temples. “I think I’m gonna nap for an hour before we go. Is that okay? I could also just drink a cup of coffee if not.”

Sunghoon, who was lounging on the couch with his phone, looked up from the screen and nodded without hesitation. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t want to get there on time anyway.”

“Oh. Okay. When do you want to be there?”, you asked, a bit unsure as to when coming to a party was appropriate.

“Around ten? Maybe eleven? Imma ask the others but probably around that time. You will even have time to get ready. Gotta impress the jocks, don’t we, Y/Ncasso?”, he smirked at you.

“Oh. I wasn’t really planning on doing that?”, you said, shrugging and Sunghoon chuckled at that.

“Sure.”

Without another word, you went straight to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you let out a long sigh. You tried to push aside the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You hadn't been to many parties before, especially ones like this. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off.

About an hour later, you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed. Your head was still heavy, the migraine a constant throb beneath your temples. You could feel your nerves creeping back up as you walked out of your room, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” you said, standing in the bathroom doorway. Sunghoon was already getting ready, styling his hair in the mirror. You gave him a small smile, trying to push away the nervousness in your chest.

“I don’t wanna drink a lot tonight,” you said, your voice a little softer than you would have liked. "Is that okay?"

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face. “Why? Are you a lightweight?”

You rolled your eyes but felt the flush creeping up your neck. “I’m just asking. I don’t really drink much at all.”

He leaned against the sink, looking you up and down with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Y/N, you’re seriously asking if it’s cool to not drink a lot? What kind of question is that? It’s just a party. You’ll be fine.”

You bit your lip, still feeling a little uneasy about the whole idea of the party. “It’s just... I don’t know. I’ve not really been to many parties.”

Sunghoon’s face softened. “You don’t have to worry. It’s gonna be fun, alright? You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. We’re just hanging out. I’ll make sure you’re not left to fend for yourself and Sunoo will also be there. If you feel uncomfortable I’ll bring you home, I promise.”

The soft, almost protective tone he used made you relax a little, and your anxiety loosened just enough for you to take a deep breath. You nodded.

“Okay. Thank you.”

He laughed slightly and turned back to the mirror. “Always. Don’t stress, alright? It's just a party. There is going to be lots of drunk people and no one will notice if you don’t drink. They will be too busy getting drunk.”

You smiled, though it was still a little tight around the edges. Sunghoon caught your glance and, after a moment of silence, his expression softened into something more reassuring.

“Come on, it’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll get there, and we’ll just hang out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

You gave a reluctant nod, grateful for his words. You stretched out, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and took a deep breath.

"Okay. I’m going to eat the rest of the kimchi jiggae from yesterday and then change." ──────────────────────── The moment you stepped into the house, the overwhelming mix of loud music, sweaty bodies, and flashing lights hit you all at once. The air smelled like alcohol, something vaguely fruity, and whatever cologne the guy who just stumbled past you had drenched himself in.

You were already regretting this.

Before you could fully process your surroundings, a loud voice called out: “Y/N!!!”

You barely had time to react before Jake launched himself at you, arms wrapping around you in an enthusiastic, borderline crushing hug.

You froze immediately. Your arms stayed stiff at your sides as Jake rocked you side to side, laughing and giggling.

“Oh my God,” he slurred. “I knew you’d come! I told Sunghoon you were gonna come!”

Your eyes darted around, searching for Sunghoon and you stared at him in a plea for help.

Sunghoon, being the absolutely useless person he was, was not helping. Instead, he stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching you with a big, shit-eating grin.

You glared at him. He just smiled wider.

Hesitantly, you lifted a hand and gave Jake a few awkward pats on the back and he beamed. He finally pulled away just as Jay approached. Unlike Jake, he didn’t tackle you. He just gave you a half-hug, clapping your shoulder lightly. “Glad you came,” he said with an easygoing smile.

You managed a small nod, still recovering from the ambush hug. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.”

Before you could even take a breath, another person appeared, practically draping herself over Jay’s side.

“Baaaby,” she whined, stretching the word out dramatically. “I want more shots.”

Jake, who had just released you from his bear hug, perked up immediately. “Oh yes, shots!” he cheered, eyes shining.

Jay turned to the girl with a rather lovesick smile. “What do you want, baby?.”

“Vodka? Tequila? I don’t care.”, she shrugged.

Sunghoon leaned down slightly so you could hear him over the music. “That’s Jay’s girlfriend,” he murmured, nodding towards the girl. “She and Jake together are, like, dumb and dumber when they’re drunk.”

You raised an eyebrow, watching as the two of them clung to each other, giggling over something completely unintelligible.

“They seem… enthusiastic,” you said hesitantly.

Sunghoon snorted. “They are. Jake’s girlfriend is probably off getting high somewhere, so later we just have to deal with dumb, dumber, and dumbest and whoever they rope into their mess.”

Oh. This really sounded like one of the parties Johnny used to tell you about. Somehow you felt a bit weird being surrounded by all of these strangers being drunk. Usually, you only drank with your friends at home or in a restaurant, so this was something completely new. You opened your mouth to respond to Sunghoon but were interrupted by cheers that echoed through the whole house, coming from different directions.

“Katy shot!” Jake bellowed.

“Katy shot!” Jay’s girlfriend echoed, nodding enthusiastically. You were glad Jay had her arm around her since she seemed a bit wonky on her legs.

Before you could even ask what was happening, a guy materialized out of thin air with a vodka bottle and a stack of shot cups, moving with the efficiency of someone who had clearly done this a thousand times before. The others were cheering on him and he was laughing like some kind of a lunatic.

One by one, he poured shots and handed them out, barely even looking as he passed them around.

And then, before you could even protest, he shoved a shot glass into your hand, too.

You blinked down at the clear liquid.

“What,” you said flatly.

Sunghoon, standing next to you, huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s a thing for the hockey players,” he explained. “Every time a Katy Perry song plays, they take a shot.”

“…Why?”

He shrugged. “Tradition.”

You glanced back up at the others, who were all now holding their shots high in the air, looking at you expectantly.

“To Katy!” someone announced.

“To Katy!” the rest echoed.

You turned to Sunghoon again.

He leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You don’t have to drink it, you know.”

You bit your lip. You had told him earlier that you didn’t want to drink much tonight. But… it was just one shot. And everyone was looking at you expectantly.

So, before you could overthink it, you raised your glass and knocked it back.

The vodka burned on the way down, and you barely had time to process it before the other girl cheered, Jake clapped you on the back, and Jay grinned.

Sunghoon just shook his head and took his shot. ──────────────────────── Sunghoon was leaning against the sofa, half-listening to Jay argue with Jake about their next beer pong shot. His own cup sat untouched beside him. He was pacing himself, knowing he had practice tomorrow and he did not intend to show up hung over. His coach was already on him for falling last week so he didn’t want to even try his luck and skate hungover. The music thumped through the house, bass vibrating beneath his feet, and the heat of too many bodies in a small space was starting to get to him.

He glanced over at you, watching as you hesitated before stepping closer.

“Sunoo is here,” you said, raising your voice slightly over the music. “I’m gonna go find him.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah, go ahead,” he said smiling at you.

As you disappeared into the crowd, he turned back to Jay and Jake, who were still discussing their game strategy. Sunghoon took a sip of his drink, sighing as he tuned them out. For a while, he let himself get caught up in the game. He played a round of beer pong, winning against Jake, who was way too drunk to aim properly, before getting pulled into a conversation with some of Jay’s friends. But even as he talked, he found his eyes drifting back to you.

You were with whom he assumed to be Sunoo, just as you said you’d be, laughing at something one of the baseball players said, that came in with Sunoo. Sunghoon recognized a few of them vaguely. He watched as one of them, a little taller than the rest, leaned in slightly while talking to you.

Sunghoon wasn’t sure why, but something about it made his jaw tighten as he saw you taking a slight step back, your smile reverting back to the small reserved ones you always had when you were uncomfortable or felt especially shy. He hasn’t seen that in quite a while now.

He shook the word feeling off, going back to his drink. You were fine.

Then, a few minutes later, the guy stood up and made his way toward the kitchen.

He watched as the guy grabbed a couple of cups and a few bottles from the counter.

He handed out the cups and to Sunghoons surprise you also took one cup. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, your fingers barely brushing against the cup.

You weren’t smiling as much anymore. You weren’t laughing like you had been with Sunoo. Your shoulders seemed a little stiffer now, your weight shifting slightly as if you were debating stepping back.

Sunghoon frowned, tapping his fingers against the rim of his cup.

You were uncomfortable. He could tell.

And suddenly, guilt crept up his spine.

You didn’t even want to come in the first place.

He had been the one to convince you.

And now here you were, standing in the middle of a room full of people you barely knew, clutching a drink you probably didn’t even want.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, setting his cup down on the counter with a soft thud. He didn’t know if he was overthinking things, but he did tell you that if you felt uncomfortable he or his friends would help you out.

So casually he started making his way toward you. Sunghoon had barely taken a step toward you when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Park,” a familiar voice drawled.

He turned to see Hyunjin, one of the more senior skaters. Despite the loud music and chaotic energy of the party, Hyunjin looked as relaxed as ever, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Haven’t seen you drink much,” Hyunjin noted, tilting his own half-empty cup toward Sunghoon. “You’re really out here being responsible?”

Sunghoon snorted. “Some of us have practice tomorrow.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have told coach you are trying out for the Olympics. He’s already making you run that new program into the ground.”

Sunghoon hummed in agreement, but his attention was already elsewhere.

Across the room, you were still standing with that guy. Sunghoon didn’t know his name but he was talking to you with a bit too much interest, hands moving animatedly as he spoke.

You weren’t saying much. Sunghoon had come to know you well enough to recognize when you were just being polite. The way your shoulders stayed stiff, the way your fingers fidgeted slightly at your side.

Sunghoon forced himself to look away. Maybe you were interested and just didn’t know how to react. Hell, he knew best how awkward you could be when you met new people. He was just overthinking things.

He shifted his weight, keeping one ear on whatever Hyunjin was saying while his eyes flickered back to you.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of Sunghoon’s face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

Sunghoon blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, glancing at you once more. “Yeah. I am just a bit tired.”──────────────────────── The music thudded in your chest, vibrating through your bones. Your head was pounding, your vision blurry, and there was a weird, giddy sensation bubbling up in you like everything was too funny. You didn’t feel like yourself.

Your hand was still gripping your drink. You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying. It wasn’t unusual for you to get a migraine, especially with the noise and lights in a place like this. It felt like your mouth was moving without you even thinking about it when you were answering whatever question Injang just asked.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” He asked, leaning in slightly, his voice a little too loud to make it easy to follow.

You could feel his eyes on you, more intent than necessary. “Um... I came with Sunghoon? He’s my roommate.”

“Ah, cool. You two must be close,” he said, his grin widening. “How long have you known each other?”

You tried to concentrate on his words, but the pounding in your head was intensifying. “I—I don’t know, a few weeks?” you replied, your voice trailing off into a giggle.

He continued asking questions, and you tried your best to follow along, giving short, vague answers. Your thoughts felt slow, fuzzy, and your vision started to swim a little, but you chalked it up to the headache that was now making its presence known.

“Hey, Y/N, you sure you’re okay?” Injang’s voice broke through the fuzz. His proximity was suddenly too much, his words a little too loud, and yet it made you want to giggle like there was something funny about how he was looking at you, how close he was.

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze in your brain, but instead, the dizziness swirled, the world spinning around you.

“I... I’m fine, I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t even sure you believed it. Your words were slurred, and you felt the giggles bubbling up, like a laugh track in your head, though there was nothing funny happening.

He kept leaning in, his hand brushing your arm, his smirk growing wider. You tried to focus on him, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure in your skull and the odd sense of lightness in your limbs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, leaning even closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. His voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. Your mouth felt dry, but you still wanted to laugh. It was all so weird.

“I... yeah,” you giggled softly, barely able to catch your breath. It was so hard to keep it together. “I’m just... I’m just a little tired, y’know? Need... water...” You tried to push past him, but your legs felt unsteady, as though they weren’t entirely yours. You could hardly keep your balance, and the noise became so much louder like it was vibrating inside your skull. You placed a hand on the wall for support, just trying to stay on your feet. The room was spinning, and you tried to focus, to remember where the kitchen was, but it felt like you had to move through molasses. Your vision blurred at the edges, but you focused on the thought of just getting some water, something to cool down the spinning in your head. You leaned against the wall to steady yourself, the world around you tilting sideways.

But before you could move, you felt his hand again. This time, it wasn’t just a touch; it was a grip, his fingers wrapping around your waist, pulling you back. You tried to tug away, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, alright? You don’t have to be so shy,” Injang’s voice was thick now, too close for comfort. His touch sent an uncomfortable shiver through you.

Everything felt wrong, but you were too tired to fight it. The giggles still threatened to slip from your mouth, but you pushed them down. You knew you needed to get away from him, but every part of you felt so heavy, and your movements weren’t your own. You were trapped in this slow, sluggish fog.

You tried to move away from him, but your body wasn’t responding the way it should, your feet dragging with each slow step. "Seriously, Y/N, you're cute when you're all quiet like this," he continued, stepping even closer until you could feel the heat of his body at your back. "I’m just worried about you. You sure you’re not feeling anything... weird?"

You flinched, trying to pull away, but he kept his grip, his fingers brushing down to your waist in a way that made you feel exposed and uncomfortable. “Come on, don't be shy. It's just a party. We’re just having fun, right?” His voice was low and thick like it was supposed to be reassuring, but it just made your stomach twist in on itself. Everything felt off. This wasn’t right. Your thoughts were foggy, too confused to make sense of it, but you knew enough to feel uncomfortable. You barely registered that your feet were still dragging, moving you backwards towards the counter, away from him.

But before you could get any farther, you heard loud voices—like shouting—though it sounded muffled, distorted. Then, you heard Sunghoon's voice cut through the noise. “Get your hands off her. Now.” Your heart picked up speed, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open, the words slipping out without you even meaning to speak them. You thought you heard a shuffle of footsteps, the sound of someone else stumbling, but your vision was swimming again, too blurred to catch the full picture. You vaguely made out Sunghoon moving closer, his shadow blocking out the light from the hallway. "Did I fucking stutter? I said, get off her," Sunghoon growled, the anger in his tone clear now. Injang didn’t let go immediately. You could hear him chuckling, but it was shaky and nervous, and you felt him try to touch your arm again. “I was just trying to... you know... be friendly.”

“Friendly?”, Sunghoon spat, “This is not friendly.”

The next thing you knew, there was a quick movement. But before you could do much else, your knees buckled. The sound of the voices and the music became distorted again like you were hearing it underwater. You tried to take a step forward, but your body didn’t listen to you, and in a blink, everything went black. ──────────────────────── The moment you collapsed, it was like time stopped. Your body crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. Sunghoon barely managed to catch you in time, feeling the weight of your body press into him as you fell limp in his arms. His heart slammed in his chest.

"Y/N?" he shook you gently, but you didn’t respond. Your head flopped back, your eyes closed, and your face was pale.

What the fuck was going on?

"Someone call 112!" Sunghoon yelled. He held you against him, trying to shake you awake, but you remained unresponsive. “Y/N? Y/N, wake up!”

The kitchen had gone eerily silent, the music and chatter fading into the background. The people around him were now all staring.

Sunoo had been standing at the edge of the room, just a few feet away when it all went down.

"Oh my god," he gasped, as he rushed forward.

He knelt beside Sunghoon, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. His eyes flickered between Sunghoon and you.

"What happened to her? What's wrong with her?" Sunoo’s voice was panicked. His gaze darted between your pale face and Sunghoon’s frantic movements. Sunghoon carefully laid you down on the floor and onto your side. He checked your pulse, your breathing and that if you threw up you wouldn’t choke on your vomit.

Sunghoon's mind raced as he tried to figure out what could have happened. You had been fine when you came here. You said your migraine had been getting worse after a while at the party you, but you wouldn’t faint from a headache. Not this quickly. Something else was going on.

He looked around the room, eyes searching for the guy who had been sticking so damn close to you earlier. His hands were shaking as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Call 112," he shouted at Sunoo, pushing through the growing panic. "Call 112, now!"

Sunghoon’s voice was firm despite the rising panic. “She’s been drugged,” he said through clenched teeth. "She didn't drink with me. And I didn’t see her take more than two sips of her drink afterwards.”

Sunoo’s eyes went wide with disbelief, his hands hovering over you like he was too scared to touch you. “What? No. No, this can’t be happening. I- she- she was fine just a few minutes ago.” His voice cracked, the fear and shock written all over his face. He carefully took your face into his hands. “Y/N, wake up. Wake up,” he muttered.

Sunghoon looked around the room again, his eyes searching for Injang. He had to be the one responsible.

He turned to Sunoo. “Stay with her,” he commanded. “Don’t leave her, alright? I’ll find that guy.”

Sunoo nodded, his face pale, his lips pressed into a tight line. Sunghoon pushed through the crowd, the noise and the panic rising as more people realized what was going on.

When he spotted Injang near the back of the living room, casually laughing with his friends as if nothing had happened, Sunghoon’s blood boiled. Without thinking, he rushed over, grabbing Injang by the collar and yanking him around to face him.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Sunghoon’s voice was low, tight with anger. "What did you give her?"

Injang, looking completely unfazed, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What? I didn’t do anything to her,” he said, his voice laced with a mocking sweetness. “She’s just drunk, man. Chill out.”

Sunghoon’s grip tightened and he pulled him closer. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he hissed. “I saw how you were with her. She’s not just drunk. You drugged her.”

Injang’s smirk only grew wider, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “You know, she’s a shy little thing, right? Pretty cute, too. I thought it’d be funny. Nothing too serious.” He leaned in a nasty gleam in his eyes. “It wasn’t like I wanted to rape her, dude. Just a little fun. You know, loosen her up a bit. She is just a lightweight I guess.”

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist in disgust. His vision blurred with anger. "You think this is funny?" he growled, stepping closer, his voice dangerously calm. "You think what you did is some sort of joke?"

Injang scoffed, clearly unfazed by Sunghoon's fury. "Relax, man. She’s just a little buzzed. Nothing serious happened." His tone was dismissive as if he was still trying to downplay the situation as some harmless prank.

Sunghoon's chest tightened with rage. "Nothing serious happened? She is unconscious!”

Injang's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, shrugging nonchalantly. "Whatever, man. Don’t be so dramatic. It was just a little harmless fun–"

He was stammering, trying to back away from Sunghoon.

“Sunghoon, stop!” Hyunjin’s voice reached him just in time before he could shove his fist into Injangs face.

Sunghoon turned to see Hyunjin standing behind him, holding his arms up in a way that was meant to stop him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hyunjin?” Sunghoon snapped, furious at him for getting in the way. “This shithead drugged Y/N.”

“Sunghoon, listen to me,” Hyunjin said, stepping closer. “If you hit him, it’s going to fuck up your chances for the Olympics. Let the police handle this. You have enough evidence that will get him into trouble.”

Sunghoon stared at Hyunjin, his hands trembling with the urge to knock Injang’s teeth out. His entire body was on fire, adrenaline pumping through his veins. But Hyunjin was right. As much as Sunghoon hated it, he was right.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around nothing as he reluctantly let go of Injang. “You’re lucky I’m listening to him,” Sunghoon muttered, his voice barely controlled.

Injang took a step back, his face pale and sweaty now.

The sound of sirens grew louder in the background, and Sunghoon pushed past Hyunjin to get back to you.

Sunoo was still kneeling beside you, looking helpless, his hands hovering over your body as if trying to figure out what he could do to help

Sunghoon crouched down next to you, watching as your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. ──────────────────────── Sunghoon sat in the back of the taxi, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind was still racing, his pulse hammering in his ears as the city lights blurred past the window. His body moved on autopilot as the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hospital. He couldn't get the image of you collapsing out of his head the way you crumpled to the floor, lifeless in his arms. He insisted on coming to the hospital but wanted Sunoo to be with you in the ambulance, just in case you woke up. The chances were low but he didn’t want you to be with him. You barely knew each other. Heeseung asked him if he should come along, Jake and Jay also tried but those two already drank too much to survive a car ride without throwing up. He declined Heeseungs offer, Sunoo would be there and Mark would also be there. Sunoo called him the second you had been securely lying in the ambulance.

He barely remembered paying the driver before rushing inside, the sterile scent of antiseptic and bright fluorescent lights making his head pound. He wasn’t as sober as he wished he would be.

The waiting area was quiet except for the distant beeping of machines and the occasional murmur of nurses. It didn't take much of an effort to find Sunoo.

He was curled up in one of the plastic chairs, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, and when he looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were bloodshot.

Sunghoon hesitated before stepping closer. "Any news?"

Sunoo shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve. His voice was hoarse. "She's stable, but she's not awake. They-they said it's GHB." His breath hitched slightly. "It's gonna take time for it to wear off."

Sunghoon felt his stomach twist. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the waiting room swung open, and Mark rushed in, looking like he had just thrown on the first clothes he could find. His hoodie was inside out, and his sweatpants were wrinkled like he had just rolled out of bed, which made sense, it was nearly 2 AM.

Mark's eyes immediately found Sunghoon's. "Where is she?"

Sunghoon gestured toward the hallway leading to the ICU. "They're still monitoring her."

Mark let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting heavily in the chair next to Sunoo.

Mark's voice was shaky when he asked, "What happened?"

Sunghoon took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before he spoke. "Y/N fainted. The doctors say she's stable now, but she's still unconscious. She's been drugged. They found GHB in her system."

Mark let out a soft, guttural sound of disbelief, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair as he processed the words. His face was a mask of shock, confusion, and rage all mixed together. "She was drugged?" Mark repeated, his voice cracking slightly. "Who the hell would do something like this?"

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, the memory of Injang's smug face flashing in his mind. "Some asshole at the party. I confronted him before the cops came. He acted like it was funny." His fists tightened.

Mark lifted his head, his face eerily blank. "What's his name?"

Sunghoon hesitated. "Mark-"

"What's his name, Sunghoon?" Mark repeated, his voice sharper now.

Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. The police took him in."

Mark's expression was unreadable, but before he could press further a nurse came up to them.

"Mr. Lee?", she asked as she approached them.

"Yes.", Mark stood up immediately.

"Y/N is stable," she said gently. "We've been monitoring her closely, and her vitals are steady. She hasn't woken up yet, but we'll continue to keep a close eye on her. Lucky the dose she digested was small and she ate something before going to the party."

"Can we go in and see her?"

The nurse hesitated, then nodded. "You can, but please be as quiet as possible. She's still unconscious, and we don't want to overwhelm her."

They followed her down the hospital corridors, the sterile smell of disinfectant in the air.

The nurse carefully opened the door to your room. You were lying motionless in the bed, your face pale beneath the hospital sheets and an oxygen mask was resting gently over your nose. The soft beeping of the machines filled the room.

Mark seemed at a loss for words, as he walked to your bed and gently took your hand into his hand. “She is going to be alright, right?”, he whispered.

“Definitely.”, the nurse nodded, “She might be confused and shocked when she wakes up and may experience side effects of the antidote, but she will be alright.”

Mark slightly nodded his head and caressed your hand. "I grabbed a T-shirt and some joggers. I thought... I thought she might want something comfortable when she wakes up."

Sunghoon glanced over at the bag Mark had brought and hummed slightly.

“That’s really nice of you. We handed her clothing to the police, so they can take it in for evidence collection.”, the nurse smiled at Mark. “You can stay in here for a while, just please don’t try to wake her up.”

The three men nodded and Sunghoon watched the woman leave the small room. Sunoo signed and pulled one chair closer to your bed. Mark sat down next to you on the bed while Sunghoon stayed at the end of your bed. He felt weird and guilty, for being here, for his friends asking you to come, for him to not pay more attention.

There was a long silence before Sunoo sniffled. "I don't know what happened, Mark. She was fine. We were just hanging out, talking to some of the baseball guys I know and then she….. she just collapsed. I shouldn’t have let her drink something we didn’t watch being made. But he brought everyone a cup."

Mark shook his head, he was still carefully holding your hand, petting its backside. "It's okay Sunoo, it's not your fault that this happened."

Thick silence filled the room again. Sunoo occasionally reached out to adjust the blankets around you, his eyes never leaving your face. It was as if no one could speak of what was actually happening, so they stayed silent instead.

Sunghoon had never felt so helpless in his life. He kept glancing at you, watching the shallow rise and fall of your chest. Every time the beeping of the monitor shifted, his heart skipped a beat, thinking for a second that something had changed. He also couldn’t imagine being in Mark's position. If Yeji was laying here, pale and motionless –drugged– his whole world would end.

Minutes turned to hours, and yet, nothing changed. The night dragged on, and the three of them sat, waiting, watching, doing nothing but hope. Neither of them left your side. The hospital staff came in and out, checking your vitals, assuring them that you would wake up, your body just needed time. There was nothing to do but wait. ──────────────────────── Darkness.

That was the first thing you registered. Heavy, suffocating darkness clung to you like a thick fog, making it impossible to think, impossible to move. Your body felt foreign—like it wasn’t yours at all. Your limbs felt sluggish and your head was pounding.

Then came the sound. Distant at first, like you were hearing everything from underwater. A rhythmic beeping. The faint hum of voices. Someone shifting beside you.

You tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. Your fingers twitched slightly against the sheets and a noise escaped your lips.

The beeping grew louder. The voices became clearer.

“…think she’s waking up.”

A hand brushed against yours, hesitant and warm.

“Y/N?”

You forced your eyes open, but the brightness was overwhelming. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through your skull, and you let out a quiet whimper, squeezing them shut again.

“She needs a doctor—someone get a nurse!”, a voice said, more urgent this time.

Footsteps hurried away.

You tried again, forcing your lashes to flutter open. The light was still too much, but this time, your vision wasn’t completely useless. Shapes. Shadows. A blurry figure leaning over you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” someone murmured, their tone softer now.

You blinked a few times, and slowly, painfully, the world started to come into focus.

Sunoo.

His eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles beneath them like he hadn’t slept in days. His fingers were trembling against your hand.

Behind him, other figures began to materialize.

Mark? Sunghoon?

Your sluggish mind tried to piece things together, but it felt like you were missing something. Everything was hazy. The last thing you remembered was the party. The bright lights, the pounding music, the way your head had started to spin. And then… nothing. Just a void.

Your throat felt raw when you tried to speak. “Wha—?”

“Don’t talk yet,” Mark cut in quickly, leaning forward. His hair was messy, and he looked like he had been dragged out of bed. “You’re in the hospital.”

Hospital?

Your fingers twitched again, trying to push yourself up, but your body didn’t cooperate. Everything was too heavy.

You swallowed, forcing the words out. “What… happened?”

Sunoo squeezed your hand. His lips parted, but for a second, he hesitated, like he didn’t know how to say it.

Sunghoon was the one who finally answered. His voice was low, careful. “You were drugged.”

Drugged?

Your eyes darted between them, searching their faces for some kind of explanation, some kind of reassurance that this was a misunderstanding, that they were wrong.

But Mark’s jaw was clenched. Sunoo’s fingers were still shaking and Sunghoon’s face was unreadable.

A cold sensation washed over you, creeping up your spine.

Drugged.

Your stomach twisted violently.

A shuffle at the doorway made you turn your head slightly. A nurse had entered, a clipboard in hand,

“Y/N,” she said with a small smile, stepping closer to check the monitor beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth, but for a moment, no words came out. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know what you felt.

“…Heavy,” you managed weakly. “Tired.”

The nurse hummed in understanding. “That’s normal. The drug is still leaving your system, but your vitals are stable. Do you remember anything?”

Your mind scrambled for an answer, but there was nothing. Just fragments.

“I…” Your throat tightened. “Not really.”

She nodded, scribbling something onto the clipboard. “That’s expected. Your body reacted well to the fluids, and the tests showed a relatively low dose, but it’s still disorienting.” Her eyes softened slightly. "I will bring you something to drink and then we will have to draw a bit of blood to send to the lab again."

You just nodded and watched her leave the room.

Mark leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “You scared the hell out of us.” His voice cracked slightly. “I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Sunoo was silent, but his hand trembled against yours. When you turned to look at him, you saw that his bottom lip was pressed tightly together, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

Then, quietly, almost too softly to hear, he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Your chest ached at the way his voice broke.

“I shouldn’t have convinced you to go,” he continued, his fingers tightening around yours. “You didn’t even want to. I–I wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve been watching out for you. I should’ve–”

“Sunoo,” you cut him off, your voice was still hoarse and talking was uncomfortable. “No.”

He shook his head. “But–”

“No,” you said again, stronger this time. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Sunoo let out a sharp breath, looking down at your joined hands. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away hastily.

“If anything, I shouldn’t have just taken a drink from someone I didn’t know.” You tried to give him a small smile. “That was stupid of me.”

Mark tensed. “Don’t do that.”

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Blame yourself.” His voice was firm. “You shouldn’t have to watch your drink like a hawk just to be safe. This isn’t on you.”

At the foot of the bed, Sunghoon, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke up. “Mark’s right.” His hands were clasping the end of your bed. “If anyone’s at fault, it’s that bastard who did this to you. Not you. Not Sunoo.” He exhaled heavily. “I wish I could’ve hit that asshole.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

Mark exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna have to call Mom and Dad,” he murmured.

Your stomach dropped. He told your parents? Your mom must be worried sick right now. They never admitted it but your parents were always a lot more careful with you, compared to your brothers.

Mark must have seen the way your face fell because he quickly added, “You don’t have to do it right now. Just… at some point.”

You nodded numbly.

Sunghoon shifted slightly, the rings on his fingers clicking against the metal of the bed. “We already gave our statements to the police,” he told you. “But they’ll want to talk to you too.”

You swallowed hard. You didn’t even know what to tell them. Whatever happened at the party was gone. You could barely remember getting there, so what were you supposed to tell the police?

Mark hesitated before speaking again. “The guy who did it… Injang. The police took him in.”

You tried to put a face to that name. Sunoo sniffled quietly beside you, his head bowed.

You squeezed his hand, again and tried to ignore the overwhelming wave of emotions that threatened to crash over you. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone right now.

Mark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You should get some more sleep. I’ll wake you when the nurse returns,” he murmured.

You weren’t sure if you could sleep, not with your heart still hammering in your chest, but you nodded anyway. ──────────────────────── The rest of the day passed in a blur.

The hospital staff checked in on you frequently, making sure you were eating, and drinking, and that the drug was fully leaving your system. Your body still felt sluggish, like moving through water, and your head pounded in a dull, persistent ache. It really did feel like the worst hangover of your life, except this time, you hadn’t even earned it.

By the time the evening rolled around, you were discharged with strict instructions to rest, stay hydrated, and come back if anything felt off. Mark refused to let you go home alone.

So Mark, Sunghoon, who was weirdly invested in “Tomorrow” and you settled into the couch in your living room, the TV casting a soft glow across the dimly lit living room. Mark had insisted on watching the episodes you missed, hoping it would distract you, but honestly, you could barely focus.

Your whole body still felt off. Heavy. Sluggish. Every movement required double the effort. It felt like there was a fog over everything, making it impossible to think too hard or even process what had happened.

So you just… sat there. Curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in the blanket Mark had thrown over you the second you walked into the apartment. Your body felt hot and cold at the same time. The AC was still running so the apartment was not as uncomfortably hot as the air outside, but somehow the cold didn’t feel comfortable either.

Mark and Sunghoon were having way too much fun making fun of the show.

“Why does he run like that?” Sunghoon snorted.

Mark shook his head dramatically. “Man’s fighting for his life, and you’re worried about his running form?”

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be scared if someone chased me like that.”

Mark let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh my god he is such an idiot. Look at him! He had one job, and now–yep. Yep. He’s dead.”

Sunghoon shook his head. “Deserved.”

Mark turned to you, expectantly. “Right, Y/N?”

You blinked slowly, trying to focus on their conversation. “Huh?”

Mark’s teasing expression faltered slightly. His eyes softened. “Never mind,” he said gently. “You tired?”

You nodded, barely holding back a yawn.

Mark reached for the remote, lowering the volume. “You should sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You were about to agree, but when you tried to move, your entire body protested. Even sitting up felt like too much effort. You groaned softly, dropping your head back onto the couch. “I wanna continue watching. I’ll go to bed after the episode.”

Mark hummed in agreement and turned back to the TV.

Somewhere in the middle of the episode, your body gave in to exhaustion.

You woke up in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to realize you were curled into Mark’s side, your head resting against his chest. His arm was draped over you protectively, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room. You adjusted slightly and closed your eyes again. ──────────────────────── The apartment was quiet.

Sunghoon stood in the kitchen, rolling his shoulders back as he stared at the half-chopped apple sitting on the cutting board in front of him. His eyes kept flicking toward the living room, where you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Again.

Mark had left a few hours ago, only after making you swear you would be okay. He assured you and Sunghoon that he’d be back in seconds if he was needed.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Sunghoon knew that you wouldn’t be on top of your game 24 hours after being drugged, but it was weird seeing you do nothing all day long. You called in sick at work for your shift in the cinema for today, so all you did today was try to rewatch the episode of “Tomorrow” Mark and Sunghoon watched with you yesterday. Or well watched without you. You fell asleep not even 30 minutes in. The same thing happened today.

During lunch, you only ate a few spoonfuls of rice so you could eat your medications, painkillers and pills that suppressed the nausea. So now he was cutting up some fruit for you. He neatly arranged a banana, a few pieces of apple, mango and some grapes before setting the plate down on the coffee table. Maybe you felt like eating a bit when you woke up and the meds had kicked in.

When he came to the kitchen a few hours later he saw the plate of fruit standing next to the sink. Untouched.

Sunghoon frowned, stepping closer. He had expected at least a few pieces to be gone. Maybe you just weren’t hungry? Or still nauseous? There were a few crumbs on the kitchen counter and when he opened the dishwasher he emptied before he saw a plate. So you did eat something. Maybe you just didn’t feel like fruit?

He placed the fruit in one of the containers he usually used for his lunch preps and wrote you a small note to eat some of the fruit when you woke up again. He had training in the morning and didn’t know when you would wake up, but wanted to make sure you ate something in the morning. The nurse told the men that you should eat a bit more. Not only because you were drugged, but because you were in the lower BMI regions and you had to pay attention that it wouldn’t get worse. Marks face fell when he heard that. He told Sunghoon to please keep an eye on your eating behaviour. ──────────────────────── You jerked awake around midnight.

You left your blinds open when you went to bed a few hours ago, not because you wanted to but because you simply forgot.

You never forget to close your blinds.

The light from the street lamps outside always made your sleep restless, so you closed the blinds.

Everyday, after you finish your night routine.

Today you barely had the energy to brush your teeth and wash your face before falling into bed.

You blinked slowly and took a deep breath in. The air in your room felt stuffy and hot. When you slowly sat up the world was spinning for a second before you could stand up. Your stomach was growling and your throat felt dry so you slowly and carefully made your way into the kitchen. Maybe Sunghoon put some of the fruit he cut up for you into the fridge. You tried to eat some when you woke up from your nap earlier but just the thought of eating made you nauseous. The rice you ate for lunch was lying heavily in your stomach.

The nurse said that the nausea was normal and would probably take a few days to subside. She advised you to stick to plain food, that was easy to digest, so you ate a piece of toast with butter for dinner, after you cut it into small bite-size pieces.

You made your way into the kitchen, careful to be as quiet as possible, to not wake Sunghoon. When you opened the fridge you had to squeeze your eyes closed again. The light coming from it made a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your skull again. Similar to the one in the hospital when you first woke up. You closed the door again and leaned against the kitchen counter.

On Friday, before you went to the party you planned on changing the water of your chrysanthemums, so the flowers were standing on the counter instead of the window sill. You reached for the vase to push it further back. Your fingers barely brushed against its smooth surface before it tipped over. It teetered for a split second, the world seeming to slow before it crashed onto the floor. The sound was deafening—glass shattering, water splashing, and the dull thud of the flowers hitting the tile. No. No. No.

It startled you and your heart started racing, pounding violently against your ribcage. The walls of the kitchen suddenly seemed to close in around you, and a heavy weight pressed down on your chest, making each breath feel laborious like there was not enough air to fill your lungs. You gasped, but the air felt thick, suffocating, and each breath was a struggle. Suddenly everything felt too much. The low humming of the fridge, the shouting from the streets, the light coming from the fridge.

You looked down at the mess on the floor.

The kitchen started spinning slowly, the edges of your vision blurring as your head grew lighter with every passing second. The shards of what once was your favourite vase shimmered in and out of focus. Their jagged edges distorted before your eyes, and your stomach twisted into knots.

You crouched down and hovered your fingers over the sharp edges, but your body felt disconnected like you were trapped in a haze. Then, through the haze, you heard hurried footsteps.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the static in your ears, but it sounded far away, distorted like he was speaking through a tunnel.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Sunghoon asked when you didn't respond.

You opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, that you just knocked over the vase, but the words got stuck in your throat. You could only stare at the mess in front of you, your fingers twitching as you tried to piece together the fragments of the vase.

Sunghoon kneeled down beside you. “Hey–hey! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” His voice was urgent but soft. He reached to stop you from touching the glass, but the moment his hand got too close, you flinched violently. You didn’t know why, but the thought of him, or anyone touching you, made your breathing come even faster. It came in rapid, choked gasps, your chest rising and falling too quickly.

"I can't—" You tried to tell him you couldn’t breathe, that something was happening, but you couldn’t push out more than those two words. Why couldn’t you breathe? What was going on?

Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “Y/N, you have to breathe,” he pleaded, but his voice barely reached you over the deafening static in your head. He didn’t reach out again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you were thankful for that.

Then, suddenly, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and the room tilted violently as you started to fall.

Before you hit the floor, Sunghoon caught you.

“Let’s sit down,” he said firmly, and without waiting for a response, he gently guided you to the floor, settling you against the cool tiles. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on his voice. But the moment you sat, your body betrayed you, and the weight of, what you assumed was panic crashed down even harder.

You were having a panic attack.

Each breath became a desperate gasp, your chest constricting painfully as you tried to pull air into your lungs. The shadows in the corners of the kitchen deepened, and the static in your ears rose to a deafening roar. It felt like you were drowning.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon’s voice was muffled and distant like he was speaking from underwater.

He shifted closer, concern etched deeply in his features, but you couldn’t focus on his face. Desperation rose within you as you gripped your knees, your nails digging into your skin as if that might calm you, but it didn’t help. All you heard was the pounding of your heart, drowning out everything else.

“Y/N! Look at me! Just breathe!” He tried again, his voice steady and calm.

You gasped, your voice shaking, “I can’t... I can’t...”

Sobs clawed their way up your throat, but you swallowed them back down, your body trembling with effort.

His arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, holding you up as your body shook uncontrollably. He didn’t let go—not even when you flinched again, your entire body tense as if expecting a blow. You didn’t understand why this was happening, why you were panicking, why the thought of Sunghoon touching you made it even worse.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, “Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t. The air wouldn’t reach your lungs, no matter how hard you tried.

Sunghoon adjusted his hold, carefully guiding you to sit on the floor against the cabinets. He moved quickly but gently, his grip firm enough to keep you from collapsing completely.

He grabbed your shaking hand and pressed it against his chest.

“Feel that?” His voice was very soft now. “That’s my heartbeat. Focus on it, okay?”

Your fingers twitched against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the rhythmic thump beneath your palm. It was strong, steady. You closed your eyes, trying to concentrate on the sensation of his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from him.

“Inhale,” he instructed gently, his own breath deepening as he demonstrated. You could feel his chest expand beneath your hand, and you tried to mirror him, drawing in a shaky breath as you followed his lead.

“Hold it for a second... and exhale,” he guided you, releasing his breath slowly.

You tried. You really tried. Your breath stuttered, but you forced yourself to follow his lead, mirroring the slow, controlled rise and fall of his breathing.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hand covering yours. “Just keep doing that. Inhale... hold... exhale. You’re doing great...”

It took time. Minutes passed in a blur of shaky inhales and uneven exhales. Your body still trembled, but slowly the weight on your chest began to ease. The static in your mind started to fade and got replaced by the steady rhythm of Sunghoons breath, his heartbeat.

Sunghoon didn’t rush you. He didn’t let go. He just stayed there, guiding you through each breath.

Eventually, your breathing evened out. Your fingers relaxed against his chest, no longer curled into fists. The dizziness ebbed, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

“Just like that,” he whispered, offering you the faintest smile.

You swallowed hard, nodding slightly. You didn’t understand what had just happened. Why had you had a panic attack over knocking over a vase? Yes, you liked it, but why hadn’t you been able to breathe just seconds ago? Why had Sunghoon had to catch you again?

You leaned against Sunghoon, your head resting on his shoulder, closing your eyes. Your body felt so heavy.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern as he glanced down at you.

“Yeah,” you breathed, your eyes closed.

You barely had the strength to lift your head, let alone stand up. Every muscle in your body felt drained as if the panic attack had stolen the rest of your energy in the blink of an eye.

Sunghoon glanced down at you, concern still evident on his face. "Y/N, should we call the hospital? Or at least Mark?" His voice was gentle.

You shook your head weakly, which took embarrassingly much effort. "No, I–I– don’t call Mark. I just need to rest. I’ll be fine."

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing as he took in your condition. He didn’t argue, but the concern in his eyes remained. He nodded softly, looking around, as if trying to figure out what would help you.

"I don’t want to be alone," you muttered, barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone in your bed was unbearable.

Sunghoon’s gaze softened. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

You just nodded and looked up at him, your exhaustion and anxiety still clinging to you, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts.

He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, I’ll stay with you. Let’s get you to bed first."

Sunghoon helped you up slowly, his arms steady around you as you leaned against him for support. Your legs felt wobbly like they might give out at any moment. Together, you made your way to your room.

Once inside, Sunghoon guided you to the bed, helping you lie down as carefully as he could. You curled up into the blankets. The weight of exhaustion hit you all at once, and all you wanted to do was close your eyes and escape into sleep.

Sunghoon climbed in beside you, his movements slow and gentle. He settled beside you, making sure to give you space but still close enough to offer comfort. You felt him move, his hand lightly brushing your hair as he began to softly caress it, a soothing motion that calmed you more than you expected.

"Just relax," he whispered, his voice soft as he ran his fingers through your hair. "I’m here. You’re safe."

With each gentle stroke of his hand, your breath steadied. You felt your body relax, the tension in your muscles easing, until you were almost asleep. Before you completely drifted off, you managed to whisper a quiet "Thank you". ──────────────────────── The warmth against Sunghoon’s side was the first thing he registered when he stirred awake. The second thing was the damp stickiness of sweat clinging to his skin. You were still curled up against him, your body radiating heat beneath the covers, your breathing uneven. Even in sleep, you were restless.

His eyes flickered open, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. He blinked sluggishly, his mind still foggy with sleep. He needed a second to remember where he was.

He was in your bed.

His body stiffened slightly. You had a panic attack. A rather bad one he’d say. He wasn't particularly an expert but he had seen a fair share of people having panic attacks before. Afterall he was doing a sport on a level where it wasn't just a hobby anymore. Sometimes the pressure and stress are just too much and people crack.

His body tensed slightly as he thought of yesterday night. The sound of the vase shattering, the way he had bolted into the kitchen, heart hammering in his chest because, for a split second, he had thought someone had broken in. But then he had seen you. On the floor, hyperventilating, flinching away from him like he was a threat. The way you had nearly collapsed in his arms, too overwhelmed to even breathe properly.

You had been terrified last night. Completely overwhelmed. He hadn’t known what to do, so he just stayed. Let you rest, let you find comfort in his presence, because if that was what you needed, then fine. Sunghoon wasn’t great at emotions, but he could do this. He could be here.

After all, wasn’t it kind of his fault that you had been drugged in the first place?

A dull pang of guilt settled in his chest at the thought. If he had just been more careful if he had noticed sooner—if, if, if. It was too late to change anything, but it didn’t stop the thought from lingering.

Sunghoon swallowed, his jaw tightening. He glanced down at you, still tucked close against him. Even now, your brows were slightly furrowed, your fingers twitching every now and then like you were stuck in a restless dream. His grip on the blanket tightened slightly.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He had never been great at this, comforting someone emotionally. He could be there physically, he could hold you, keep you safe, but saying the right words? Making sure you actually felt better? He didn’t know if he was capable of that.

He sighed quietly, shifting slightly to ease the discomfort of his sweaty shirt clinging to his back. The movement must have disturbed you because, after a moment, he saw you stir, your breath hitching slightly as you blinked yourself awake.

Immediately, you tensed. He felt it—the way your body stiffened, the way your breathing changed

Slowly, you pulled away from him, avoiding his gaze as you sat up.

“Uh… morning,” you murmured, your voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

Sunghoon sat up too, studying you carefully. You looked exhausted, of course you did. After everything that had happened, it wasn’t like one night of sleep would magically fix it

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “Um… thanks. For last night. I–”, you hesitated, eyes darting to the covers. “I don’t know what happened. It was just a vase, I don’t know why I–”

You cut yourself off, shaking your head like you didn’t even know how to explain it.

Sunghoon frowned. You shouldn’t have to explain yourself right now, it wasn’t like you planned on having a panic attack.

“You okay?” he asked, instead.

You hesitated before nodding, but it wasn’t exactly convincing.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. He wanted to ask more. Wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to act like everything was fine, but he wasn’t sure how to say it without making things worse.

"You sure?” he pressed.

You swallowed. “I mean… I don’t know. I just feel… off.”

Yeah. That made sense.

Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, watching you carefully. You weren’t crying, but you still looked so lost in your own head, your eyes unfocused like you were somewhere else entirely.

He hated it.

Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. He had no idea how to comfort you emotionally, but he could at least make sure you weren’t alone.

“…Are you gonna be okay alone today?” he finally asked, watching your reaction closely.

You hesitated again, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “…I don’t know.”

Sunghoon nodded, already making a decision before you even had to say anything else.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Huh?”

“To training. You can sit in the bleachers or whatever,” he shrugged, standing up to stretch. “You don’t have to be alone.”

You opened your mouth like you wanted to protest, but after a moment, you shut it again, your expression softening slightly.

“…Okay.”

Sunghoon gave a small nod before grabbing his phone off the nightstand. “Cool. Get ready, we’ll head out soon.”

As he walked toward the bathroom, he glanced back at you, still sitting on the bed, staring at your hands. ──────────────────────── You sat in the bleachers, wrapped in the thickest hoodie you could find, your arms resting on your lap as you watched the skaters glide effortlessly across the ice. The cold from the rink seeped into your bones, but you didn’t really mind. It was better than the midday heat outside.

When you and Sunghoon arrived at the rink the air was hot and humid and you were glad to escape the weather for a few hours. You've been at the rink for a while now watching Sunghoon and his teammates skate through various choreographies. Alone, in pairs, alone again. His coach seemed to be quite strict, making them run through the same part multiple times.

You had never seen Sunghoon skate before. Not in person.

You had known he was good, obviously. He was literally training for the Olympics. But knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things.

He moved across the ice like he was made for it, every motion smooth and deliberate, like gravity didn’t affect him the way it did everyone else. His long limbs should have made him look awkward, but instead, they made everything he did look even more refined—effortless.

It was mesmerizing.

And it wasn’t just him.

The other skaters–especially the female ones–floated across the rink with that same elegance, their bodies cutting through the ice with practised ease. They were beautiful and so graceful.

Your mind still felt slow, like it was moving through water. Everything around you felt a bit...distant. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Just… off. Like you were here, but not fully.

Having a full-blown panic attack in front of your hot roommate and asking him to more or less act like a gigant plushie in your bed, so you could sleep may contribute to that feeling. And the fact that it felt wrong to sit here. You should be in the office right now. It was Monday after all, but the hospital sent your doctor’s note to your workplace, excusing you until the weekend, so you could recover from the GHB properly. The doctors were quite worried when you left, that you might still be affected by the drug. Which, honestly, you were. So maybe it was good you didn't go to work, but at the same time would you have appreciated a bit of a distraction?

You pulled your knees up slightly, resting your chin against them as you watched Sunghoon land a jump perfectly, the ice slicing beneath his blade.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, just watching. But you were grateful that, at least for now, you didn’t have to do anything else.

At one point you felt bored so you pulled your sketchbook from your bag, flipping to an empty page as you settled back against the cool bleachers.

Your fingers gripped the pencil lightly, gliding it over the paper in slow, careful strokes. The ice skaters still moved gracefully across the rink, but now, instead of watching them with awe, you focused on capturing their movements with lines and shading.

Sunghoon was still the easiest to spot, his tall frame making him stand out among the others. You tried to sketch the way his body tilted ever so slightly before he leapt into the air. It was frustrating, trying to capture something so fluid, but it gave your mind something to focus on other than the lingering exhaustion weighing down your limbs.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but eventually, a small shiver ran through you.

The cold had crept up on you gradually, settling in your fingers and arms before you even realized it. You rubbed your hands together, tucking them into the sleeves of your hoodie before glancing down at your phone. Sunghoon was still practising, but you didn’t want to sit in the rink any longer.

Y/N: Hey, I’m gonna go outside. It’s getting kinda cold.

You packed up your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you made your way out of the building. The warmth of the summer air hit you instantly, a stark contrast to the coolness of the rink. You let out a slow breath, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders as you stepped into the shade of a tree just outside the entrance.

You sank onto the grass, reopening your sketchbook.

Here, in the quiet, it was easier to draw.

Your pencil moved fluidly, shading in the folds of Sunghoon’s training jacket, the angle of his arms mid-spin. The longer you sketched, the more the world around you faded into the background.

You didn't even realize how much time went by when you heard footsteps approaching.

You straightened up, seeing Sunghoon walking toward you, his tall figure framed against the bright afternoon sky.

“You didn’t have to wait out here. You could have gone home,” he said with a small smile, though there was something in his eyes that made it seem like he was still concerned about you.

“It’s fine,” you replied quietly, standing up and stretching out your legs. “I didn’t feel like going back inside and here I could enjoy the sun a bit.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but you noticed his eyes flicker toward your sketchbook.

“Did you paint something?”

You glanced down at the book in your hands, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Just… some sketches of you and the other ice skaters..”

Sunghoon tilted his head, walking a little closer. “Can I see?”

You hesitated, but then you opened it to the page with a sketch of him. The lines were still rough, not nearly as clean or as elegant as his movements on the ice, but it was the best you could do.

He smiled slightly when he saw the drawing. “Is that me?”

“Yeah.” You closed the sketchbook quickly, feeling suddenly awkward. “You looked really...elegant? I don't know how to describe it but I wanted to capture that. I also painted your friends. The one with the long hair. She is really beautiful.”

"Wonyoung?", Sunghoon asked and flopped down onto the grass next to you. "She is really pretty. And really talented. If she doesn't get into the Olympics team I don't know who will."

You collected your pencils that you spread onto the hoodie you layed beside you. "Do you think you will get in?"

Sunghoon let out a humourless laugh. "I am doing my best, but I am not sure. Honestly, at the moment it feels like I am stuck somehow. No matter what I do it feels like I am getting worse instead of better."

"Oh.", you said softly, "Sometimes the universe just has different plans for us. You still have other cool opportunities but the Olympics, right? I imagine taking part in the Olympics is quite hard on your body and psyche?"

Sunghoon hummed. "Yeah. And if nothing works out I'll just coach or something. I don't know. My degree offers me so many various career paths. I am sure I'll find something I like."

You nodded, "Mine really doesn't. Oh well, it does, maybe not as many as yours but I kinda am planning in specialising in Architectural History and Classical Design, which won't get me far here in Korea, so I kind of have to think of going in a different direction."

"Why not go to Europe or the States? You like that kind of architecture, right?", Sunghoon asked.

You looked at him confused. How did he know that? "I-uhm- yeah, I do. But I would hate to live far from my parents and my brothers. Seoul is already too far. I want to go to Busan. To you know, live and build my life there."

"Oh really? I love Busan. It's very pretty. I've been there with my family once or twice.", Sunghoon said.

"It is.", you smiled at him.

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by a female voice: "Honnie?"

The girl with the long hair, Wonyoung?, was walking towards the tree you and Sunghoon were leaning against.

"I thought you left to go home?", she said and then turned to you. "Oh hi. You must be Y/N I am Wonyoung."

You cleared your throat and looked up at her. She was quite tall. "Ah yeah. Hi Wonyong."

"I heard what happened at the party on Friday," she said and shook her head. "I knew Injang is a Idiot but I would have never guessed that he would drug people for fun. Are you feeling better?"

You stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the question. Your fingers curled around the edges of your sketchbook, gripping it just a little too tightly.

“I…” You hesitated, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but what else were you supposed to say?

"I am glad." Wonyoung's expression softened as she looked at you.

“Yeah,” you murmured, shifting on your feet. “Me too.”

The conversation lapsed into silence for a moment. You felt awkward, unsure of what to say, but Wonyoung quickly changed the subject, turning to Sunghoon.

“Are you heading back to your place now?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Y/N and I were planning on cooking together tonight.”

Oh? Were you?

“Alright,” Wonyoung said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She gave you a small wave before walking off, leaving you alone with Sunghoon.

You exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “She is nice.”

“She is,” he said simply. Then, after a pause, he glanced down at you. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as you both headed toward the bus station. ──────────────────────── Sunghoon and you didn't really plan on cooking together. Sunghoon just had an oddly specific craving for dinner.

“I really want dakgalbi,” he said as you walked side by side toward the bus stop. “There’s this place I love, but you have to order for at least two people. So if you're up for it, I would order for the both of us?”

You blinked up at him. "I-sure. I would love to eat some dakgalbi."

Eating with Sunghoon was… nice.

You had fallen into an easy routine with him over the past few weeks. Sometimes one of you would cook a meal with two portions so you would eat together, but most of the time you both ate different meals, his playlist would softly play in the background and you would be talking about anything and everything. It had all started feeling strangely comfortable. You liked coming home to him being at home already. He preferred to lounge on the sofa in the living room, instead of his room and you enjoyed the natural lighting of the kitchen more than the artificial one in your room so the two of you were often in the same room, doing your own thing.

The smell of spicy stir-fried chicken filled the apartment as you both settled on the floor, in front of the TV, the takeout container placed between you on the small sofa table. The heat from the dish rose in soft waves, making your mouth water despite the lingering unease in your stomach.

Sunghoon dug in immediately, scooping up a generous bite of chicken and rice, his playlist playing softly in the background. You took your first bite. It was delicious, and at first, you thought you’d be fine.

But a few bites in, your stomach twisted uncomfortably. The spice lingered longer than usual, settling in your gut, and you swallowed quickly, taking a sip of water to cool your mouth. You tried eating a little more, but by the time you reached your fourth bite, it was obvious that your stomach was not on board with this meal.

You set your chopsticks down and exhaled, hesitant to say anything. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful when Sunghoon had been so excited about it. He didn’t even let you pay your half.

After a few moments, Sunghoon glanced up and noticed you weren’t eating. His brows furrowed slightly. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, feeling a little guilty. “I think the spice is a bit much for my stomach.”

Sunghoon blinked, chopsticks pausing mid-air. For a second, he looked almost disappointed, but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared. Instead, his features softened, and he set his chopsticks down, eyeing the takeout container. It was nearly untouched on your side of the bowl.

“Do you want more rice?” he asked gently. “It might help settle your stomach.”

You looked at him, a little surprised by the offer.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

A small, almost satisfied smile crossed his face as he scooped some of his rice onto your plate. “Here. Eat at least this much, okay?”

You smiled back, warmth settling in your chest. It was such a simple thing, but it made you feel… cared for. It was like with your brothers, but different somehow. Your brothers kinda had to be nice to you, they were your brothers after all. But Sunghoon just was…nice and caring and watching out for you apparently. You knew he was feeling unbelievably guilty for what happened on Friday.

It wasn’t his fault.

Or his friends fault.

Or Sunoos.

Just yours. For stupidly accepting a drink from a stranger. It was stupid. Really.

But nothing you could change. The police came to your hospital room and you gave your statement, it wasn't really helpful, since you couldn’t really remember anything at all that would help, but they assured you Injang would be punished.

You looked at the rice on your plate . “Thanks,” you murmured, picking up your chopsticks again.

Sunghoon nodded, going back to his own food.

The two of you continued eating, the quiet hum of his playlist filling the space. It was a comfortable kind of silence, the kind where you didn’t feel the need to fill it with words.

You liked this. Sitting here, sharing food, talking about whatever came to mind. ──────────────────────── The apartment was eerily quiet.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered tubes of paint, brushes of varying thicknesses, and a palette smeared with muted blues, soft greys, and hints of warm ochre. You dragged a brush lazily across the canvas. It was slowly coming to life—a cityscape bathed in hazy afternoon light.

Normally, your days were filled to the brim with tasks, deadlines, and obligations. There was always something to do, somewhere to be. But today? Today had been mind-numbingly empty. If Mark had gotten to know that you went to work he would have probably killed you, so would Junwoo and Taeyong. Johnny even asked if he should come to Seoul to give you a once over and when you declined told you to get rest and take care of your body as much as possible.

So you were doing just that.

Taking a rest.

But taking rest somehow felt even more draining than working. You had to find something to do besides sleeping, that would keep you occupied, even though you somehow didn't feel like doing anything. The last three days you tried everything.

You cleaned the apartment, skimmed through a book, scrolled through your phone more than you cared to admit and you tried to start a new drama. Nothing stuck. The boredom pressed down on you until you gave in, grabbing your sketchbook and paints.

At least painting gave you something to focus on.

You've finished the painting of your mom’s kimchi jiggae you planned to hang next to the one of her kimchi that already hung in the kitchen and decided that you wanted to paint something different. So now you were painting the gamcheon village in Busan. Since talking to Sunghoon about wanting to move there you’ve watched a few Youtubers vlogs they filmed in Busan. It was such a beautiful city.

The silence in the apartment stretched, only interrupted by the occasional distant sound of cars passing outside while you painted for hours on end.

It wasn’t until the familiar click of the front door opening that you realized how much time had passed.

"I'm back," Sunghoon’s voice rang through the apartment. You heard him toe off his shoes before stepping inside.

You turned to glance at him over your shoulder, taking in the slight dampness of his hair and the relaxed way he shrugged off his jacket. He must’ve gone out with his friends after training, just like he had mentioned in passing this morning.

His gaze flickered to you, then to the half-finished painting in front of you. His brows lifted slightly. “You’ve been painting all day?”

You nodded, stretching your stiff limbs. “There wasn’t much else to do.”

He hummed, walking over and peering at your work. “It looks good.”

You let out a small laugh. “You say that about everything I paint.”

“Because everything you paint looks good,” he replied easily before his eyes flickered toward the kitchen counter, where the plate you used for your breakfast was still standing next to the sink, waiting to be put into the dishwasher. His brows furrowed. “Did you eat?”

You opened your mouth to say yes but then hesitated.

Had you?

You tried to think back, but your mind came up blank. You remembered making tea in the morning. You remembered eating two pieces of toast with butter in the morning, before your stomach acted up again, so you made yourself tea. Tea was safe. You remembered sitting down to paint. And then… nothing.

“…I don’t think so,” you admitted, a little uncertain.

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y/N.”

“I just… forgot. I did eat breakfast?”, you said quickly.

Since you’ve left the hospital a few days ago you had trouble sleeping and eating. Somehow your sleep was really restless and you still couldn’t really eat. You didn’t even know why. You were nauseous after eating, your stomach hurting, whatever you ate, so you just stuck to small portions of rice, soup or plain bread and drank a lot of tea, that was supposed to help your stomach.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What did you eat?”

You winced at his tone. “Some rice. And, um… a bit of bread.”

Sunghoon let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s it?”

You shifted under his gaze. “Food still makes my stomach feel weird.”

His expression softened slightly. “You can’t just not eat,” he muttered, already heading toward the kitchen.

You watched as he pulled out a pan and some ingredients, your stomach dropping.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Making food. Something you can and will eat. I swear I will call Mark and tell him you haven’t eaten. Painting is not an excuse to forget eating, Y/N.”

You nodded and just sat there, watching as he cracked eggs into the pan, adding rice and a few simple seasonings. The scent of warm, slightly buttery rice filled the air.

Within minutes, he placed two plates of egg-fried rice on the table, sitting down across from you. “Eat,” he said simply, nudging a fork toward you.

You picked up your spoon and took a small bite. It was plain and a bit bland. You took another bite, and Sunghoon seemed pleased, nodding slightly before starting on his own portion.

Then, like a switch flipped, he started talking.

“I almost faceplanted during practice today,” he said, shaking his head. “Lost my edge on a turn and nearly crashed into the barrier. Coach wasn’t impressed.”

You looked up, raising a brow. “But you didn’t fall?”

“I saved it at the last second,” he said proudly, then deflated a little. “Still got yelled at, though.”

You hid a smile behind another small bite of rice.

He continued talking, recounting random moments from his day—how the rink was more crowded than usual, how Rei had almost tripped over Wonyoung’s skates, how his friends dragged him out for food afterwards and wouldn’t stop teasing him about something dumb he said years ago.

You barely had to say anything, just nodding along, adding the occasional question or comment. But you didn’t mind.

You liked listening to him.

Before you knew it, you had eaten more than you thought you would. Almost half of your plate was gone. Sunghoon must have noticed because he gave you a small, satisfied smile. “See? Not that bad, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yeah, yeah.”

Sunghoon just grinned, leaning back slightly. “Good. Gotta make sure you don’t starve while I’m around.”

You shook your head, but a small warmth settled in your chest.

Somehow, despite everything, Sunghoon made things feel a little easier. ──────────────────────── Exactly one week after the party Sunghoon came home late. Frustrated and annoyed and with his wrist taped again. He saw the edge of his skate catch the ice, and before he could correct himself, he was already stumbling. His landing was off. Again. His frustration boiled over as he skated to a stop, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

He never struggled with this jump. It was muscle memory, something he had nailed a thousand, no a million times before. But today, it was like his body refused to cooperate. Every attempt ended in a mistake. Every spin felt just a little too slow. His footwork was sluggish. He had barely made it through his program without messing up half of it. And he had fallen. Four times.

He wasn’t going to make the Olympic team. He knew it was pointless at this point. He knew he had to stop, before he would be one of the athletes stumbling under the pressure.

Sunghoon had been trying to accept it, telling himself that there would be other competitions–Worlds, Grand Prix Finals, Four Continents. He had time. He could try again.

But knowing that didn’t make failure taste any less bitter.

By the time he got home, he was still frustrated and annoyed. His muscles ached, his mood was horrible, and all he wanted to do was shower and pass out.

You were curled up on the couch, holding a packet of crackers in one hand and your phone in the other. Your face lit up when you saw him.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft. “You wanna watch Tomorrow with me?”

Just like that, every ounce of frustration in his body melted.

He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. His mood was still heavy, but the tightness in his chest loosened just a little.

“Yeah,” he murmured, kicking off his shoes. “Sure.”

As he stepped further inside, his eyes flickered to the empty packaging of the crackers that way lying on the sofa table. It wasn’t much, but at least you were eating.

The amount you ate in the last few days wasn’t enough for anyone older than ten months.

So he’d take what he could get.

He sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough to see the flicker of relief in your expression.

You curled into the couch, your head resting against the armrest, the soft glow of the TV flickering across your face. Sunghoon barely paid attention to the drama, his eyes kept drifting back to you.

You had always been on the quieter side, but lately, it was different. You barely spoke at all. You looked exhausted, all the time. You forgot to eat all the time. It was like someone stole your routine and suddenly you didn't know how to be alive anymore.

He knew, he just knew, that you probably hadn’t eaten much today.

It had been days now, and he had been paying attention. The way you only picked at your food, how your portions kept shrinking, how you hesitated when he asked if you had eaten.

He understood, why you weren’t eating. But he couldn’t stop worrying. Not after what happened last week.

His jaw clenched as he thought back to the party and to last Sunday. Your body crumbling to the floor, your breathing ragged and uneven, the sheer panic in your eyes as you tried to gasp for air. That moment had scared the living shit out of him.

He had never felt that helpless before.

Sunghoon wasn’t great with emotions, but he knew guilt when he felt it. If he hadn’t convinced you to come to that party, you wouldn’t have been drugged. You wouldn’t have had a full-blown panic attack in front of him. You wouldn’t have been this drained, barely eating, barely sleeping.

Sunghoon saw you blink slower and slower. And then, you stilled completely.

You had fallen asleep.

For a moment, he just watched you, letting out a quiet sigh.

His fingers hovered over the remote before he lowered the volume, careful not to wake you. The drama kept playing, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He wished he knew what to do.

Sunghoon had always been someone who fixed things with action—if his jumps were off, he trained harder; if he lost a competition, he worked until he won the next one. But this? He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t rewind time and undo what had happened. He couldn’t take away the fear, the exhaustion, the way you barely seemed present sometimes.

And that made him feel useless.

In the four weeks he has been living here he started liking you in a way that made him feel protective, that made his chest ache when he saw you struggling.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch.

Sunghoon had never been good at dealing with feelings.

Not others, not his own.

But he knew that if you weren’t feeling like shit right now he would really like this.

Watching TV with you, being the person you quietly sought out when you didn’t want to be alone, quietly spending time with you. ──────────────────────── University had started again a few days ago, and honestly, you were relieved.

It felt good to slip back into a rhythm, to have a schedule, to wake up knowing exactly where you needed to be and what you needed to do. Your mornings were filled with lectures, afternoons with group work, and in between, you had your friends back. After weeks of quiet, of spending most of your time alone or with Sunghoon, the campus felt alive again.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

So when lunchtime rolled around, you were glad to finally sit down with Renjun, Jaemin, and Ningning, listening to them bicker.

“I swear, Professor Kim hates us,” Ningning groaned, aggressively stabbing at her rice. “Why else would she give us a group project with the deadline in less than 3 weeks?”

Jaemin snorted. “She’s just testing who’s gonna drop out first.”

Renjun sighed dramatically. “Well, it’s me. I’m dropping out. I’m packing my bags.”

“You say that every semester,” Jaemin pointed out.

“This time, I mean it.”

Ningning grinned. “What’s the plan, then? Becoming an unemployed artist?”

“Hey.” Renjun looked offended. “I could make it work. Maybe i am the next Picasso.”

Jaemin smirked. “Sure. I’d go more for Van Gogh. I think you would be sexy with only one ear.”

Renjun picked up a fry and threw it at him.

At some point during the lunch break, Renjun glanced at your tray.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Is that all you’re eating?”

Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t meant to eat so little—it just… happened. You hadn’t even realized how little you filled your tray with until now: a bit of rice, a few slices of meat and a yoghurt. It was food you knew you could eat without feeling uncomfortable later.

You forced a casual shrug. “I’m not that hungry.”

Ningning frowned. “Y/N, that’s, like… nothing.”

Jaemin studied you for a second before leaning forward. “You’re really not hungry?”

You hesitated, gripping your spoon a little tighter. “Not really.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s not because the food here sucks?”

You forced out a chuckle. “I mean, that’s part of it.”

Renjun, though, wasn’t so easily convinced. His voice was softer when he spoke. “You’d tell us if something was wrong, right?”

You hesitated. Your fingers curled around the edge of your tray.

You hadn’t told them yet. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because saying it out loud would make it too real, or maybe because you just didn’t want to see the way they’d react, maybe because you were embarrassed that you made such a stupid mistake.

But now, with all three of them staring at you, waiting, you exhaled shakily.

“Something…did happen.” You swallowed, forcing the words out. “At a party. Someone put something in my drink.”

Silence.

Renjun’s face went blank. Jaemin sat up straighter. Ningning eyes widened, mouth parting slightly.

“What?” Renjun finally breathed.

You nodded, pushing your yoghurt around with your spoon. “Nothing… bad happened. But it could have. I am just not feeling super good.”

Jaemin looked like he was ready to murder someone. “Who the hell—”

“You know Injang?”

Ningning’s face twisted in disgust. “The baseball player?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It was him.”

A long pause stretched between you all. You didn’t want them to look at you like that, with pity and worry and barely contained anger, but you couldn’t blame them either. If one of them told you they were drugged you would be furious.

Renjun ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Y/N… why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know. It’s not really something to just tell someone?”, you shrugged.

“And you’ve been okay?” Ningning asked, voice softer now.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m getting there. My stomach is just super upset at everything I eat. It’s really annoying but it’s getting better.”

They didn’t look convinced. You weren’t convinced either. But at least you didn’t feel like vomiting. Jaemin slid his untouched banana toward you. “Eat this. Just a few bites. Bananas are easy to digest.”

You sighed, but peeled it anyway. And as you forced yourself to take a bite, you saw them all relax. ──────────────────────── You saw the light filtering through the lecture hall windows, dust motes dancing in the late afternoon sun as your professor droned on about neoclassical influences. Your hand moved across your sketchbook on its own, lines forming the skeleton of a Corinthian column without conscious thought. When your professor wrapped up his lecture you realized that yes you have painted a row of very beautiful looking Corinthian columns but you also didn’t pay attention to what the professor was saying. You signed and texted Jaemin to send you his notes of the class. His only response was a thumbs-up emoji.

The walk home was long and the heat made it almost unbearable. It was September but summer was unwavering and the air was hot and humid. You adjusted your bag strap when it slipped off your shoulder, then frowned as your jeans sagged at the waist again. You hitched them up with one hand, mentally scolding yourself for buying them a size too big last month. The washing machine must have stretched them out. You made a note to check the care tags later. Maybe they needed a hotter wash.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Taeyong’s contact photo flashed on screen. A ridiculous selfie of him and Johnny making fish faces at the camera in your parents’ restaurant kitchen. A warm flicker sparked in your chest at the sight.

"Oppa," you answered, pressing the phone to your ear as you turned onto your street.

"Y/N!" Taeyong’s voice was sunshine wrapped in static. "Did you get the package Mom sent? There’s three kinds of kimchi and—"

"Johnny’s mom’s seaweed soup," you finished, smiling for the first time all day. "Yeah, it’s in the freezer." You hesitated before adding, "I had some yesterday." You had taken one bite before the nausea hit, which technically counted.

"How’s uni? You sound less dead than last week."

You kicked a pebble across the pavement. "It’s… actually good? My design professor finally approved my project concept." You didn’t mention it was your third submission. "It’s just annoying to haul all my models back and forth now that I don’t have the studio space at home."

A beat of silence. Then, carefully: "Sunghoon still says you can use the living room, right?"

"I don’t want to take over his space," you muttered, stepping around a crack in the sidewalk. "It’s his home too."

Taeyong sighed. "Y/N–"

"Anyway, the studio has extended hours now," you interrupted, watching your shoes scuff the pavement. One lace was fraying. "It’s fine."

Johnny’s voice crackled through the speaker. "Tell her to eat the soup, Taeyong. With rice. Actual rice, not just broth–"

"I’m eating!" you lied, too quickly. Your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough that Taeyong snorted.

"Liar," he said, but his voice was fond. "Just… take care of yourself, yeah? Or I’m driving up there."

You rolled your eyes but felt something tight in your chest loosen. "Yeah, yeah. Love you."

The call ended just as you reached the apartment. The key stuck in the lock and you jiggled it harder than necessary until the door gave way.

The living room was exactly as you’d left it this morning, except now Sunghoon’s skate bag sat by the couch, his jacket slung over the back. A sticky note on the coffee table caught your eye:

"Left japchae in fridge. Made by my mom, so it’s edible!"

You traced the blocky letters with your finger. He’d drawn a tiny smiley next to his name. You didn’t see Sunghoon often, since uni started. His and your schedule was so different, that the only time you saw him was late at night, when he came back from training, exhausted and frustrated. You were feeling so bad for him, he was training so hard, but if he was right he was training for nothing. Maybe he would be able to deliver a beautiful routine and he would be accepted into the Olympic team. You would be so happy for him. He would deserve it.

Your models and supplies were still stacked neatly in the corner where you’d left them after Sunghoon moved in.

You bit your lip. Maybe you could work out here tonight while he was at practice. You should really get started now that your project has been approved.

As you bent to pick up your drafting supplies, your jeans slipped again, the waistband catching on your hip bones. You huffed, yanking them up.

In the kitchen, you opened the fridge out of habit. The japchae sat front and centre in a glass container, noodles glistening under the fluorescent light. Your stomach twisted—not unpleasantly, just… strangely.

You shut the door without taking the food.

The wilting chrysanthemums on the windowsill caught your eye as you passed. Brown-edged petals curled inward like fists. You should change them. Tomorrow. Maybe.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty ♡ CONTINUE ON READING --⟢ PART 2 all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands @ikeumina @softchannie @sirens-dreams @schmocolateschmchip @delirioastral @dearestdreamies @deluluscenarios @urmomssneakylink @qlorin @elairah @addictedtohobi @doririsstuff (if anyone wanted to just be tagged for The truth untold pt. 2, i am very sorry. I kinda didn't give you a way to differentiate if you wanted to be tagged for the series or just his story! So just ignore this tag if I tagged you wrongly)

ᝰ an. A special mention and thanks to @xylatox for dealing with my rambling and more or less live reading all of this. Ily and your comments please feel all of my kisses!!! Part two is in the works and will be coming! I don't know when, but it`s coming! ₊ ⊹

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