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highvern · 26 days ago

Text

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: mature, romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: Drug use (weed), alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm, mentions of pregnancy

Length: ~27k

Note: this is a rewrite of this fic i posted for christmas last year. switched some things, updated my writing style and added some scenes. thank u @haologram for suffering through beta reading this. dedicated to my dearest @miniseokminnies

Summary: Wooyoung broke up with you months ago. In his own shame and embarrassment, he's never told his family. Now they're expecting you for Christmas, just like they have for the past 8 years. So he does the only thing he can think of: beg you to pretend you're still dating.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

June

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“...and forth so much but—What?”

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door. You don’t care. You’re already outside and turning the block, completely unaware that several whip around to look at the man left at the table.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening. The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday, paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year, so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite,” she laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that. He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there,” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got your number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed. Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with your response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm.

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you deadpan. “What do you want, Wooyoung?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but you’re right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” you drawl.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from your end along with a few curse words sounding far away before you continue. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now,” you insist.

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

He can hear your eye roll. “Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit anymore.”

“I can tell them you’re busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No.” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down your face, fingers massaging your temples the same way you always did when his shenanigans stirred up trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

He can’t believe you answered his call, let alone agreed to this stupid plan. But he completely can because now matter what happens, you’re a better person than he’ll ever deserve. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so—”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.” Wooyoung bites his tongue to stop the habitual I love you from slipping in.

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for you to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great. ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between you. Eight years of dating but now you’re a stranger, the last text messages arranging for Lisa to pick up a box of your stuff from his apartment.

Six months and he didn’t know if you kept your hair the same way or what new book you were obsessing over in the sparse free time from the hospital; if your neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one.

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door. He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit. Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since you would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS?

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees you’re flying out of New York, not Boston. Why aren’t you flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and you wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless there was a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. You live here, in New York. You’d been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long? Where were you working? What neighborhood did you live in? Why didn’t he know you moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

Wooyoung: since when?

He doesn’t expect a response right away. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. You’re a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when he met you at some dive bar and realized you shared a behavioral psych class. You always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day. Wooyoung would probably get an answer in the next few days but he needs to know right now.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well, fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew you moved back to the city.

Double fuck.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her.

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face. “This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them until he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family across the country?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, Hongjoong eyes you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…”

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake?

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked.

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child,” he tsks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chest piece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper,” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient.

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season.

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you split a cab?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford downtown. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You were never one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. Back in April, when you and Wooyoung visited for her birthday Bibi decided to skip asking when you two would tie the knot and go straight to procreation.

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

The line for security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place. “Congrats, man.”

Wooyoung gives a tight smile. “Thanks.”

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

The flight attendant keeps her best customer service voice but something dies behind her eyes. “Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, you know Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teacher's salary. In the end, a few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

“No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you,” you say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does, in fact, exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several. The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar.

“Cranberry margarita.” You slide over your credit card. “And start a tab, please.”

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart; the second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic but there is no way this is happening. The world isn’t that cruel.

Even if he deserves it.

You stand twenty feet away in the usual flight attire, every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw you. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of your nose. The silver carry-on you bought in the airport during the last visit to his family at your side. And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting your lips when you catch him staring.

Better he sees you for the first time since the break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, you can kill him multiple times over with looks alone, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if you hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

You actively avoid looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for the flight. But you keep focus on your phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is Lisa. If he wakes up to the tiny blonde in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three; flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as you strut down the hall without a glance back.

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when he shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t find you amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle.

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes.

Two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan. You can’t lie to her. It’s one thing for Wooyoung to play this entire charade in her face and you to go along. It’s another to ask you to look her in the eye and pretend you hadn’t spent the last six months pretending her son didn’t exist.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” the man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you.”

Wooyoung stares blankly, glazed eyes bugging out his skull like he can’t believe the irony either. If habit and history were to repeat itself, he carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left.

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words. It might as well be ancient hieroglyphics.

“Y/N,” he tries again. In your periphery, Wooyoung folds over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you.

“What?” you snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patients brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core.

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land. The seatbelt sign chimes off and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it.

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear. Once Wooyoung is out of earshot, you apologize, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while after he offers to trade seats. You refuse. If you sat next to Wooyoung they’d need more than a few people to pull your hands from his neck.

The stranger, Jay, laughs. “That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.”

Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder. “Excuse me.”

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you.

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” You stare straight ahead. His hand brushes yours by accident and you make more space between you so it doesn’t happen again.

“How’s work?” Wooyoung asks.

“Fine.”

“Okay, look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least pretend to act like we like each other?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you are for this charade.

“Fine,” you sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the bus to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work. A small blessing to avoid running into Wooyoung so soon after the break up.

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up.

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” she cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Waving at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can circle back to the passenger door.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah. Good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate.

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach at the moment. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. If you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened, then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” she gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you catch some sleep in the backseat during the long drive. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing your stomach. You shrug his hand off your thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of your sweater

His mom opens the driver's door, inviting in the chilly air from outside. “Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.”

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were both students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snow globe.

Another yawn before braving the outside, Wooyoung spots you in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

He wants to pull you into his arms and kiss you back to sleep. Follow the slope of your nose and bow of your lips with his fingertips until you swat him away and hide in the warmth of his neck. Six months ago he could have. Now, he has to brave the cold himself.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, shouldering her away from the trunk as she insists on helping carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and your carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” You call across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as you struggle with the luggage.

“I can see that,” his dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house.

His dad lifts your larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while you balance your tote bag and his carryon. Wooyoung manages to snag the canvas bag off your elbow as he walks past. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight, the faint glow of Christmas lights illuminating the climb to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly.

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time he shared the quilt covered bed. How the last trip here had been the last night you slept in his arms; the last time he laid you bare beneath him, giggled against your lips as you both tried and failed to stay silent; the last time he fell asleep tangled in you, with the blue velvet box he brought everywhere hidden in his suitcase only feet away, ready to ask you at the drop of a hat.

Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it first happened.

The same blue velvet box with the same ring sits in his suitcase but he can’t think about it because if he does he’ll beg you to come back to him. You lay curled under the quilt like before except this time Wooyoung can’t glue himself to your back and trace shapes on your stomach for you to guess. He can’t kiss you good night and tell you he loves you even though he still does; he probably always will. He can’t do it.

Because you deserve better.

A better life, a better man. One who doesn’t rope you into this level of insanity instead of asking for a second chance and explaining why he ruined the best thing in his life.

But Wooyoung is a coward.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in your own suitcase, you scoff at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

A tiny speck of hope you might want to share the bed for other reasons melts into nothing. Of course, you wouldn’t want him anywhere near you. The moment in the car when he was feigning slip just to feel the gentle scratch of your nails through his hair meant nothing. “She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s going to happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” You grab your toiletry bag and shuffle to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva,” Wooyoung whines. But his rebuttal bounces off the piece of wood locking him alone in his room.

When you return from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. You leave first thing in the morning the day after Christmas and after he gets back to the city he can tell his family the truth. Or an altered version of events where Wooyoung hasn’t lied to all of them.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity.

This was his idea. He can do this. He can pretend everything is fine. He can share a bed with you and be totally normal; unlike every other time you fell asleep in his bed since the beginning of your now finished relationship.

He finds you balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space open for him to sink into. His chest squeezes but he stays silent as the minutes tick by. He knows you’re awake. Your leg twitches and brushes back against his before you jerk away like his skin burns.

Wooyoung wants to roll over and trace the dip between your shoulders like he used to when neither of you could fall asleep. It’d work in no time, he knows it. But he settles for counting backwards until his thoughts drift off.

You fall asleep somewhere around the second time he reaches the forties. When Wooyoung reaches zero again, he starts over.

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone.

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?”

You tilt your mug towards her. “This is fine.”

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment those four years you attended medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to your fingers brushing his hair like always, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of your short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as your heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, you’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all those months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as you sit at the counter, cradling a steaming mug. If Wooyoung had to bet, it probably contained more sugar and milk than coffee.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to you nonetheless, resting his cheek on your shoulder, feeling you startle at the contact. Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in your sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget you're lying to everyone in the gentle passes of your cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

His mom works to heat the pan on the stove. “Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.”

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” you mumble for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning at the hands of nosey grandmothers.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met you, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available, and Oh she also wants to be a teacher! Isn’t that cute? But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of you and him at the park, cheeks smashed together, announcing he was not so casually dating you, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met you at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend.

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung survived it, their older brother survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling. It was good for him.

The second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of your overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste of dating again.

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother,” his mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” you snap, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud. You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on one as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message. “Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jungs you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could reverse the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs.

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothing's come up yet.”

“That sucks,” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable.

A light tap at the door startles you from the nosedive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood.

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed and lean against it. “I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

“Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” you whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind. “You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Oh?”

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess—”

Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all. Wooyoung won’t look at you, not that you can look at him either.

Kids.

Just another thing on the long list of wants you wouldn’t be getting. For so long, children were this amorphous thing you wanted some day. That was until Wooyoung came along and slowly changed those vague thoughts into real hopes. They had been discussed to death over and over. Wooyoung wanted as many as possible before he started teaching, then eagerly explained that two kids were more than enough after his first day of school.

All those nights snuggled in bed talking about baby names, Wooyoung offering to stay at home if you wanted.

“I’ve always wanted to be a trophy husband,” he told you. He smothered his face in your neck, sealing the offer with a gentle kiss. “Could be a trophy dad too.”

“You’d give up teaching to raise my baby?” you asked.

“I’d give up everything if that's what you wanted.”

He would have.

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. He should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were hypothetical, no matter how often you two discussed them; but marriage was almost reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, finally you and him.

Wooyoung tries not to think about Bibi’s comments but the mug of tea sits steaming on the table and the images are just there. You pregnant; a nursery decorated in greens like the one you told him about; celebrating Christmas in the city, the snow covering everything and requiring the little tyke to be wrapped up until they resembled an overstuffed dumpling.

His mind wanders as the board crowds with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quad, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her.

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with you before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an A and every other letter I need for ACQUAINT on a triple word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom one hundred and seven points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with you in victory; cheeks squished together, matching bright tipsy grins. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

You don’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of your chair while you settle into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of your head, relaxing firm pressure of your body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

In the cool toned light of dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that separate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet sound fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your underwear.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong – so so so wrong – to fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your needs. But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” you groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress. “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow. Three more days and you can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon. In the meantime, you turn on the coffee pot and wait as the kitchen fills with the comforting smell. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family.

Wonderful.

“Morning, sweetie.” Bibi bursts into the kitchen, a whirlwind of activity even at the early hour.

“Coffee?”

“That stuff's no good for you,” she chides, taking a spot at the dining table with her own cup. “Our appointments are in thirty minutes, better go get ready before the boys use all the hot water.”

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom. Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows you pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard that whimper, felt your legs squeeze together the way you always did when you needed his help. Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch you to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of this charade he needed less complications, not more. Sex felt like it would make things very, very complicated.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of you in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down your nose from on top of his lap. And his personal favorite, on your knees, eyes watering as your swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of your throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung closes his eyes as the evidence swirls the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

Out of the steam, he returns to his room, ready to throw on a pair of sweats and spend the day sleeping to avoid his feelings. Too busy thinking about you, Wooyoung isn’t paying attention when he opens the door and runs straight into you.

Also half naked.

“Oof!”

Wooyoung grunts with the impact from the floor. Arms caging your head, you stare up at him like you can’t believe he’s there. Bare chest on bare chest. His towel unties, leaving his right leg naked against yours, hips cradled against your own.

This is not happening.

“What the hell?”

“Why are you naked?” he stutters.

Very naked, and pressed against him intimately. The heat of your core is more than enticing. Even though he washed all the desire from this morning away, his body betrays him from years of habit. Maybe touching you wasn’t such a bad idea. What could it hurt?

“I thought I’d flash you,” you spit, eyes rolling. “I was changing.”

You’re still beneath him, squirming. Right against his dick. A pang of want rushes through him like a thousand volts, his nerves turning into individual live wires everywhere your skin meets his. The cold sneaking through the windows is all more evident by your pinched nipples pressing into his chest.

“I didn’t know you were in here,” he explains. Still, he doesn’t move. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“Cleary.”

You must realize he’s hard because you stop moving, staring wide eyed as his entire body lays heavy against yours. He should have let you talk him into whatever you wanted earlier, consequences be damned. Your gaze lingers on his mouth. He doesn’t want to make assumptions but your head tilts, breath fanning his chin. His own stutters, eyes flitting between your mouth and your eyes as he leans closer and—

“YN? Are you ready?” Mia calls from the door. “We don’t want to be late!”

“Just a minute!” you respond. “Get off.”

Wooyoung scrambles to his feet, towel back around his waist to hide what little of his dignity is left. Which is, somehow, far less than when he entered the shower minutes ago.

He tries not to look but you're standing there, breasts on display, and Wooyoung is only a man who was in love with you for years and still very much is no matter what lies he tells himself.

“Turn around, this isn’t a peep show.”

He does, but an argument fizzles at the tip of his tongue. He’s seen you naked enough to draw you from memory; the mole on your shoulder, the scar on your hip from when you learned to ride a bike and fell into a ditch, the knobs of your spine. Wooyoung knows all of them like the back of his hand. A couple months ago you would have goaded him into looking as much as he wanted, teased him and in the process riled yourself up until looking turned to touching.

You clearly don’t want that as you race to throw on whatever clothes are nearby and rush out the room.

Stupid.

He can’t believe he nearly kissed you. He actually can but what he can’t believe is you seemed to want it just as bad as he did. But it wouldn’t make anything better. This wasn’t a movie where he could kiss you and all the problems plaguing your relationship would disappear. You’d still hate him and he’d still be hopelessly in love with you.

After dressing and basking in humiliation, Wooyoung descends to the living room where his dad and brothers watch a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time?

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

The nail salon buzzes with conversation. The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights, reminding you of the hospital. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you.

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

Wooyoung’s stunt this morning was perfect cannon fodder for your idle mind. It didn’t mean anything; biological reactions to seeing someone and feeling someone who knew your body intimately for years. Seeking closure in the most primitive way after months without any sort of gratification. It meant nothing.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her.

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast.

“Yeah?”

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day,” you laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…” That we aren’t together, you finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho…”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things only for it to be all for naught.

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year, toothy smiles wide as they wave at him.

“I think being scared means you care. You can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” you whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch.

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest.

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teetering with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain, pull him upstairs to tangle your limbs between his and find sleep together. But you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the contents on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner. The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own – alone – before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed your shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly propositioned him in his childhood bed. And again on the floor.

Three more days, you think.

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of you curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles your face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world keeps you occupied.

Wooyoung aches to scoop you against his chest and litter kisses all over your face, fingers ironing out the wrinkles creasing your forehead. To smile at your whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. This morning was a mistake. Even thinking about you the way he has is a mistake.

Even if it kills him not to touch you like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject you to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling you into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation.

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding your shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

You respond with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over your head to hide away.

“C’mon, it's almost time for dinner.”

“Youngie, it’s cold,” you protest as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from your iron grip. “I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, you blink against the overhead light. “I’m up!”

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

You mutter empty threats the entire way to the kitchen, so close your cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits.

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. You demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year Wooyoung brought you home; Mia claiming victory in your absence the year after. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright.” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery. But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches you attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. They're half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What you don't know is that those are your gumdrops and his are stashed under the table.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting, loose interpretations of houses.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” you ask. The horrendous green and red abomination resembles nothing Wooyoung has ever seen before.

“See, you get it!”

Shaking your head, you point at the monstrosity sitting in front of you. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps… if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes. A chorus of groans around the table answer.

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s Willy Wonka.

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his. “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard. Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year. Doesn’t even pretend Wooyoung has a shot.

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match. Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition dating back to his earliest memories.

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please,” his dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is your leaving through the same door he is, and that a menacing sprig of green leaves sit just above in wait.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” you grunt.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own.

If you were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop you into his arms and make an entire production of giving you a short peck on the cheek – his parents were watching after all – while you laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into your eyes, barely missing the nod as you leave a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the passing contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize you’ve walked away until you’re turning a corner and are out of sight.

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel like nothing happened.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! you think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

One stupid, G-rated kiss and you act like a bumbling teenager. Wooyoung’s morning wood was pressed against you twelve hours ago and you can’t handle a peck.

What was wrong with you?

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest. All those tightly stashed feelings you swore would never have a home in your heart settling back in like they never left. Honestly, they hadn’t. Six months was nothing compared to eight years together.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last-minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. He didn’t give any answers to the questions you were dying to ask. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable. And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more.

Toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter. He stayed quiet after the mistletoe. Not that you had much to say yourself.

When you return to his tiny room, it’s notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets alone. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed.

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss? Or was it this morning? But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

Christmas Eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night's sleep on the freezing, unforgiving floor can dull his excitement. He woke early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space while you slept soundly.

Part of the reason he slept on the floor is the knowledge that if he woke up with you pressed against him again, he’d agree to whatever you wanted from him. He was too selfish to say no a second time.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So, with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize. You’d basically avoided him after the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite to do so. Technically, you kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth. Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed about it.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky. His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving.

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently, now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him. “Alright,” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He pleads you for help, but you can only offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in.

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market on the way home. The house is peaceful as everyone works in quiet content.

Until Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. Kyungmin was a sweet kid; he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager. It’d be weird if he didn’t have one. But to hear he’s been out right rude, and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep.

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins. It's been months since you let loose, too tired from the hospital. But in the quiet cold, the fuzziness bubbling in your veins is exactly what you need.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college,” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

He takes another hit, coughing twice before answering slowly. “No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing,” you chuckle.

Wooyoung spent all his high school years and college breaks as Bibi’s helper; coincidentally meeting some long friend’s granddaughter each time. It all stopped when you came around.

Kyungmin goes to light the bowl again and you snatch it from his hands, some big sister instinct taking over. He lets you and flops back into the snow covered roof. “They just stare at me. It’s creepy.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all. He staunchly ignores your raised brow.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school,” he admits. “And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool,” you nod. “So you like her?”

Kyungmin flounders for a second, caught red handed. “I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

If your eyes rolled any harder, they’d pop out of your skull and launch off the roof. “Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league,” he sighs.

He sounds a lot like Wooyoung. Back when you first started dating and he learned you were applying for med school, there was an air of unworthiness that rolled off him. Wooyoung never explicitly told you he felt that way about himself but he didn’t need to.

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit. You let him this time.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungho calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect,” he responds, folding in half to climb out the window.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof.

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what, hair a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him. You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it.

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

Wooyoung’s breath caresses the shell of your ear before he speaks. “What are you guys doing out here?”

You resist the urge to shiver for an entirely new reason.“Bibi.”

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky.

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while.

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. One of your fingers slips around his, hooking them together briefly. Wooyoung doesn’t squeeze back but he doesn’t move away either.

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look you in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted you on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was your own family; how he wanted to cry when your fingers circled his own.

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between your spread legs.

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are.

He doesn’t think twice about dropping a kiss against your knee until you stiffen. Idiot. Every time he swore he was going to be better, his body acted on autopilot. Falling into old habits and thoughts like they were second nature.

Resting his cheek against your thigh, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch you anymore. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, he’s too weak to stop himself.

Considering the way you keep staring at him every time you think he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think you would want him to stop either.

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind you up the stairs. You both get ready in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for you to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds you in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night,” you explain.

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.”

“Just take the bed.”

“No,” you protest.

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out your scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes, you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now, shut up.”

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep on the floor if you continue to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, you were a menace. You’d cave eventually when your hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to you. His entire left side burns in your heat, acutely aware of every shift of weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from the kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, when he jacked off to old memories and then ending up tangled with you half naked on the same floor he now laid, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

It’s freezing. That’s the excuse he tells himself as to why you snuggle closer, leg splayed across his hip and face buried in his neck. It’s reflex, is what he tells himself when he presses his lips to your hairline and you grab a fistful of his shirt.

He doesn’t have an explanation when you slide over him, taking a seat in his lap. He doesn’t need an explanation either once you kiss him, closed mouth and gentle. Wooyoung quietly accepts every touch you bestow. Hands strictly at his sides, he refuses to initiate anything more. It’s all up to you. He wants to give you whatever you want without even considering himself.

His brain floods with a fuzzy feeling as your fingers itch up his chest. Under his shirt, you sluggishly trace the lines of his stomach. There is only one way this ends because he cannot let you touch him any more or he’ll ruin everything.

“Wooyoung?” you ask, nose to nose when he pulls your hands out of his clothing and holds them between your bodies.

Twisting until you lay side by side, Wooyoung lets himself be a little more selfish as he gently sucks your bottom lip between his own. He finds the strength to pull away when you deepen it. He won’t be selfish.

You both fall asleep with tangled limbs, Wooyoung’s nose buried in your hair and your lips against his neck.

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. You hear the first crash slice through the door, an ice bath to your system.

You’re still curled tightly against Wooyoung’s chest.

On the floor.

“Get up,” Wooyoung shakes you, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

You groan in the morning light, burrowing back down into the still warm pillow.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall, much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!”

You tackle him into the mattress, forehead to chin and an elbow in his stomach. Attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi stands in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” his grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Your position against his body, legs bent awkwardly, covers lopsided, only last as long as Bibi is there to witness. You stumble over the memories that remind you too much of the time she waltzed in two Christmases ago, you and Wooyoung scrambling to hide exactly what was happening beneath the sheets.

Now, the only thing you’re rushing to make it look like that was exactly what you were doing. The smallest trickle of relief slips in at the fact he brushed you off last night. The consequences of trying to hook up with your pretend boyfriend are clearer in the harsh daylight.

You rise and stalk to the bathroom without looking back, a handful of clothes in tow to avoid the same debacle as yesterday.

You feel a little pathetic settling for meaningless touches. All you want is to pretend a little harder, let your mind believe Wooyoung still loves you, still wants you. Not just to avoid awkwardness with his family but because he knew he made a mistake and just needed the courage to admit it.

That wasn’t going to happen. He was content with his choices, so you have to be too.

Wooyoung is already downstairs when you descend the stairs. There's a mug waiting for you on the coffee table, perfectly sweet and milky. It doesn’t mean anything.

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store.

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia.

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them,” she whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right.

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly.

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the horrors of Midtown in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you,” she says, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well.

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“No, I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Removing the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears staining your cheeks with gentle swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself. Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by.

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make you so upset but his mom keeps squeezing your shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in your direction. The new necklace circling your neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask.

Maybe it had nothing to do with the necklace. Maybe it’s because you’re finally free of this entire ordeal tomorrow and never have to see him again.

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines you into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before taking your MCAT or opening exam results. When the screen fades to black, you bolt up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following, Wooyoung finds you perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between your collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his head all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, you hand him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked you to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been. To secretly say goodbye to his family and the relationship you had with each of them after already working through it on your own. He should have known you bottled it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” you ask, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” you bite, glazed eyes blazing as you rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” your voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. “What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of the mess, you fall back onto the bed. “It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. He can’t breathe. He can’t think.

“I was planning to propose.” He can see your head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he has to look you in the eyes and admit he’s a coward, so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

It’s painful to swallow the knot of embarrassment in his throat but you deserve the truth. He owes you a lot more but all he can do is give you an explanation for why he blew up both your lives. “I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything,” he admits. The crushing weight resting on his shoulders lightens a little at the confession. It feels good. So he keeps talking. “I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that,” you objects, cupping his face and forcing him to look at you; at the tears he’s responsible for. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back,” you say quickly. “Why do you think you get to make decisions about my life like you know better than I do?”

Panic sets in. “Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed about something but you never wanted to talk about it so I didn’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

An awkward silence unfurls, so thick he could choke on it.

“I still have it by the way,” he finally says.

Surprise flashes across your face as you stare at him. “Have what?”

“The ring.”

You blink through fresh tears and something in him breaks. Cracks into a thousand pieces he’s forced to hold together because this is all his fault. “Why?”

“I think…” Wooyoung sniffs back his own cries. “I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” You fume, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped.

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down.

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years.

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you.

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you. As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new.

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center.

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place?

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them. Maybe it’s for some other secret he’s convinced himself to hide from you because he isn’t good enough; because he doesn’t trust you enough.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin. It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the gentle slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind across a lake. Wooyoung marvels and shakes above you, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks before kissing them away with a hitch in his breath. But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear.

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think you wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot you two were barely more than strangers after months of silence, how every part of him still fit together so perfectly with you. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without you. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text you something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having you next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

His mom turns off the radio. “When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs. “I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake. Sometimes two people don’t fit together and it isn’t because you don’t love them.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint her eventually.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

Throwing the car in park she levels him with a look so stern he feels like he’s a kid getting scolded again. “You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.” Another comparison where he doesn’t measure up no matter how you look at it.

“Yeah, well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. Each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic,” Yeosang says.

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung responds. There’s no bite in it. He doesn’t disagree, he’s told himself the same thing over and over again.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?”

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot,” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking. “So what do I do?”

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of your full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B. Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

Lisa doesn’t even let him speak. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different? Could he promise he’d never let whatever tiny trickle of self doubt plague his brain wouldn’t flare up again? No. He can’t.

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

The line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with your best friend. The vinyl tabletop shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration.

“She’s working at New York-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

Yeosang chews his next bite thoughtfully, like he isn’t sure he wants to share the information a second time. Wooyoung almost believes he hallucinated his friend speaking at all until Yeosang repeats himself.

“Y/N works at New York-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.”

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him. He wants to kick his ass.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake San off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward.

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight-year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friends don’t trust him not to hurt you anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t…”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

“And we’ll help,” San adds.

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before anyone can force him. But for now, he focuses on getting you to listen to his apology.

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” you call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes.

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor. You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came.

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes. – W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed.

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach and jittering nerves. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend. Unless you shrunk, or grew two feet, or suddenly had a beard.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s nearly memorized. The Times mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg twitches aggressively beneath the table. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that you aren’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside.

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the last tiny drop of hope. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine he watches as the clock hits nine.

You aren’t coming.

You don’t want him back.

And he has to accept that it’s his fault.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been you and him, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked while trapezing through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Your hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring your face as it fogs in the cool air. But you’re here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi,” he says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

You nod. “I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. You’re here. You’re here and you’re looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry,” he warbles.

“I know.”

But you can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed you and how breaking up with you was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that you’re in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing you’ve ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells you how he truly feels, you’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, staring at the icy sidewalk covered in slush.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” you pause, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

You smile shyly. “Really?”

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, you nod at him. “That’s a start.”

And the space between them grows a little warmer. Gives him the confidence he needs.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of you. You never made him feel less than. The only person who thought he wasn’t good enough was himself and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt.

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from your face. Beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Your voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug you into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get out.

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” you yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders.

“I missed you,” you whisper into his lips.

“I love you,” Wooyoung responds, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees, children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the dead grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where you and Wooyoung both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither of you like to talk about. Wooyoung woke you with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find. No different than all the other mornings spent together since January.

You tried to take things slow, ease back into the comfort of the relationship. But it’s Wooyoung. There’s no half measures, only the full rush of feelings that never went away. A few awkward weeks of dancing around one another, unsure how to fit back in when there’s so much history, but the dam broke the first night Wooyoung stayed at your apartment and woke you up with bagels and coffee in bed.

He stayed over almost every night since.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures his face from view as your head rests in his lap. Wooyoung’s been fidgety all morning. You chalk it up to the first nice day following a freezing, rainy winter. Too much energy and finally a suitable outlet that isn’t people watching from your living room window.

You look up at him, his face visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding your smile. He’s already looking at you.

Plucking the book from your grasp, he carefully marks the page before setting it down on the blanket. Wooyoung folds in half to silence your protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming as you give in all too easily.

“I was reading that,” you mumble into his bottom lip. You tug his shirt, kiss him a little firmer before he leans back.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, you press another peck to his mouth before answering, “Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Your smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

Fiance.

His fiancee…

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers you up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it, me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech but you hardly notice, shaking so hard yourself. He drops it a third time when you tackle him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from your lips and into the field where they lay.

“Yes!” you squeal into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all your friends, he holds your hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks you home, to the apartment that’s become his second home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses your knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Each time you chest squeezes like its the first. Once inside the doorway, Wooyoung crowds you against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on your ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of the sundress off your shoulder so his tongue can etch your collarbone from dip of your throat where the locket he gave you for your first Christmas together rests to under your ear.

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” he asks, nipping against the sensitive skin until you sigh, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between your parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr. Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Woo.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at your reaction, rocking again just to hear you moan his name once more.

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” you huff, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of your cunt through your panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites against the strained muscle raising from the side of your neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

You do feel it. Shifting in the tiny space he’s allotted, you feel him hot and hard against your stomach. You’re caught between wanting to savor every moment and ripping both your clothes off.

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify your question with an answer other than tugging you towards the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

You don’t make it that far. Between pulling at his clothes and tripping over your own, the hall floor becomes the alternative; Wooyoung’s lap your new perch. His teeth close around your nipple, timid until he’s not.

He keeps you like that for a while. Squirming in his lap until you're not naked enough with your dress pooled around your waist and bunched up your thighs. You whine and he switches to your neglected breast, tongue flitting teasingly.

“Wooyoung,” you keen.

The bastard laughs but makes no move to give you more. You’re at his mercy. The way he touches you makes you blush, still new and exciting after years but he treats you like the most interesting thing in the world; remembers even the most insignificant details that have you sweating.

You try to pull him off your chest but he ignores the desperate pleas; eager licks so good your hips kick against his crotch for some kind of relief. Fingers pinch at the abandoned one, keeping your back bent in a painful arc.

He bites a little too hard, shoves a hand between your legs and touches with raw force. You can’t think about anything. Hopped up on champagne and engagement bliss, your body rolls hot and wet against his fingers until you come with wrecked sounds.

Sagging against him, Wooyoung slows, lets you take a few weak breaths while he noses against your collarbone. He kisses the hollow of your throat, a simple brush of his lips that lingers deep in your veins.

“I think that might be a new record,” he quips. The fingers buried beneath your underwear pop into his mouth before he reaches back down with softer strokes, teasing all those worn nerves back to attention. You don’t care about anything other than the way he touches with brutal reverence. Worshiping your body the way that sets your soul on fire.

His body gives under gentle caresses, fingers cataloguing everything in meticulous detail. His hair, his neck, shoulders. The plains of his chest. How his stomach dips beneath your nails. You rub his cock through his pants before impatience takes over and you both work to shove them down his thighs.

You rock down, pulling at those short hairs at the nape of his neck with just enough sting. Wooyoung loses himself in the feeling, mouthing your name across your sternum. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whatever response rests on your lips dies as he rolls you next to him on the floor. You leg over his hip, his cock between your walls with little resistance. The kind of intimacy that makes you bubble out your own skin.

The floor isn’t good for sex. Your hips ache. Sweaty limbs stick. Your fiancé has you bent like origami to fuck as far as his dick can reach. His eyes are locked on the way you fit together, but you want them on you. “Baby, l-look at me.”

He does; hooded eyes hazy. Something simmers hot in his gaze, something you can’t name but know well because you feel it. Wooyoung doesn’t look anywhere else but your face as he rolls again and again and again.

“Feels so good,” you pant.

Wooyoung hoists your leg up higher, pushing until your back flattens to the floor and he’s crowded over. You want him to fuck you hard, nasty. Something in between those romance movie references and the way he makes you feel like the only person in the world; perfectly made to take him.

He groans from the new angle. “I love you.”

The hand shoved between your legs is ripped away. The hand with the ring. The one Wooyoung kept by his side at all hours like an idiot. But you don’t care. Not as he pulls your fingers to he faces and kisses it like a promise, cups his hand around your own one his cheek. You shake. Thrash beneath as stars explode and everything melts into absolute nothing.

Wooyoung manages a few more thrusts before he loses it, pace uneven from champagne and giddy pleasure. The messy of his cum spills with each jilted thrust, trickling where your ass meets the floor.

Shuddering, Wooyoung collapses. “Jesus Christ.”

You grunt something like ‘I know,’ eyes wet, body vibrating with leftover dopamine. You’ve never had married sex, and any form of nuptials remains far off in the horizon for the time being. But tonight, he’s as good as the real thing. Maybe even better.

“I think I passed out for a second,” you whisper airily.

“Just some proactive marital bliss.”

He lays on the floor next to you, shoulder to shoulder, hands wound gently together. The pressure of his lips rains over your fingers. Again, and again like he still can’t believe this is real. You can’t remember ever being this happy.

Hooking a leg over his hip, you cuddle down into his chest. “Bibi is gonna see that ring next weekend and start asking for grandkids.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Myungho called me this morning.”

“Wait, really?”

“Surprised?”

“No,” you laugh. “Mia called me last week.”

Wooyoung presses his nose into your cheek with a whine. “How come you got to know before me?”

You're both still half clothed. Your dress ruined, his pants the same. Like the so many times you’ve had together where nothing can get in the way of the deep seeded need for one another. Almost poetic.

You kiss his cheek teasingly. “Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life, Mr. Jung.”

A displeased huff is all the warning you get before he’s back on top of you, fingers bent into your waist, your neck. All the worst tickle spots that have you screaming for mercy.

��You were surprised today, weren’t you?” He pulls you tighter, levels your gaze and whispers like it’s the best secret he’s ever been a part of. “Mrs. Jung?”

“Not one bit.”

#cromernet #kvanity #ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #ateez fluff #🫡 highvern

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kwanisms · 1 year ago

Text

Rough Waters — h.jisung

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ samebito!Jisung × f!Reader wc: 10k summary: Y/N is a marine biologist who is obsessed with finding new sea life. During a night dive, she stumbles across a very well hidden underwater cave entrance and finds herself meeting something that defies all logic and evolution. She forms a bond with the creature and comes back almost every night to visit him. genres/themes/au: fluff (if u squint), smut; supernatural and japanese folklore themes, s2l, slight predator/prey themes; non idol au, merman au, samebito au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, a little bit of arguing between Y/N and some of the townsfolk about the existence of mermaids, some slightly sad conversation about Jisung being alone, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4 , @cutiespaghetti Join the taglist! »» Closed ! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this is super self-indulgent and I will not apologize for shark merman cnc Jisung. I wanted this Jisung so I made him. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. If you enjoyed this, reblog or leave a comment. I love feedback. The next part, Changbin's part, is the last one of this series! That being said, next up is the Holiday Special of Tales from Camp. You can sign up for that taglist here and read the first two installments here. If you've yet to read the OG Tales from Camp, that masterlist is here. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a freakin shark merman. You think he cares about avoiding pregnancy? He can’t even get her pregnant lol but you need to use protection!), oral (f receiving), con noncon, pool/water sex (kinda lol), dirty talk, use of pet names (little fish, cutie, baby, pet, etc), rough sex, dom!Jisung, sub!Reader, even though it’s cnc Y/N is very receptive towards his advances and in the end, she does give him consent. But if CNC or dubcon makes you uncomfy, don’t read it. This is my fantasy. I wrote this for me lol if I missed anything let me know

dialogue prompt: ❛ I'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

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The warning sign at the beach that read ‘beware of sharks’ in all capital letters should have served as warning for what you were about to get yourself into.

Living in a seaside town has always had its perks. Sandy beaches to visit in the summers, the smell of salt that you’d come to love, boating, all the seafood you could want among them. It was almost like your own personal paradise.

The one drawback was the shark population that increased at the end of summer which drove away the rest of the tourism for the season. You weren’t mad about it. After all, the ocean was home to all marine animals, sharks included. As a biologist, you knew each animal had its own purpose and was beneficial to the ecosystem, especially sharks.

So despite the danger, you never missed an opportunity to dive when the weather allowed. Of course, you chose night time for your dives.

Night was perfect as the animals weren’t as active without the sunlight.

Your dive for the night had taken you to a rocky part of the shore where you knew caves would be. The caves along the shore were always hard to reach and most of them only had underwater entrances.

You’d explored a fair share of them since moving to this town but there were many more you wanted to explore and see what kind of life you could find.

This excursion was like any other, you’d made a plan with the local coast guard as well as letting your contact in town know when, where, and how long you’d be. It was a standard procedure which had become routine for you.

You had taken out your boat and anchored it just off shore and near what you assumed was the opening to another cave before suiting up and jumping into the water. The water was cool enough in the summer months but in the fall it was almost freezing, making you grateful for the wetsuit you wore no matter the temperature. Making sure your mask was secure you slowly sank into the water, turning on and shining your light towards the bottom of the rocks.

An opening was visible at the base and you carefully made your way down, inspecting the opening before starting inside. You’d explored many of these caves before, you knew the procedure and the caves never scared you. To some, caving was one thing but to do so underwater was an entirely different beast. To you, it was almost second nature.

As you continued forward, you scanned the walls of the cave, taking note of the coral, algae, and other life that had taken root on the walls. It wasn’t uncommon to find life in places like this. Sea caves were often the home to unique and enclosed ecosystems.

As you gently propelled yourself forward, you noticed how the cave seemed to open up. As you reached the end you looked up and saw that the cave did indeed open up into a large cavern. Sand lined the bottom of the cavern, many coral reefs and other life taking up residence. You started to swim up, noticing the surface approaching rapidly.

You broke through the surface of the water and found that the cavern was much larger than you initially thought. Swimming over to the edge of the pool, you pulled yourself up and started to look around as you started to remove your mask.

It was a rounded cavern. The pool was about twenty feet in diameter but there was a rocky ledge where you were currently perched on and then the rocky floor continued for another twenty feet making the whole diameter of the cavern about forty feet. You pulled your mask off and set it down as you undid and shrugged off your oxygen tank.

“This is incredible,” you whispered to yourself as you removed your flippers and got up, starting to walk around the cavern and inspect the walls. There was a slight glitter to them as you shined your light. Not like they were wet but like some kind of diamond dust was embedded in the rock.

You looked straight above your head and noticed there was an almost perfect circular cut out in the cavern ceiling and moonlight was filtering through the hole. The moonlight hit the surface of the water and danced around the cavern.

As you were inspecting, you noticed something else.

The cave seemed inhabited. You noticed bones collected in a pile and an old fire pit. You wondered who might seek shelter in this cave when it was so close to the boardwalk but didn’t have time to dwell on it as you heard a large splash coming from the pool.

You made your way back over and cursed as you saw your mask and oxygen tank sinking to the bottom of the pool. “Shit,” you said softly and looked around. You hoped there might be a break in the rocks that would allow you to exit the cave instead of having to go back into the pool but you saw nothing.

You turned around on the spot, trying to figure out a way out of this but you saw nothing that could help. There was nothing you could use to reach the tank and mask which were now nestled at the bottom of the pool in the sand. “Fuck!” you cursed, your voice echoing off the wall.

You looked away from the pool when you heard a shift against the rock behind you.

Shining your light back, you saw nothing and chalked it up to nerves.

You turned back, eyes catching something dark in the pool below you before you felt something grab you and pull you into the pool.

You kicked and fought against whatever it was until it seemed to let go of you and you quickly swam to the surface, coughing once you broke through the surface. You tried to pull yourself up onto the rocky ledge but something grabbed your leg and tugged, pulling you off the wall and back into the water.

Just as quickly as it grabbed you, it let go.

You tried to shine your flashlight around but whatever it was moved too fast for you to get a good glimpse of it. In a desperate attempt to throw the animal off, you threw your flashlight away, turning back for the ledge at the light splashed a considerable distance away.

You hoped the splash would distract the animal enough for you to get away and it seemed to work as you scrambled up onto the rocky ledge before you pulled away and peered back at the still water’s surface. Your eyes scanned the area, looking for any kind of predator that could have been responsible.

Upon not seeing one, you looked down to inspect your arm and your ankle. Your skin was unbroken and mostly unscathed. There were slight imprints, almost like teeth or maybe even claws but no blood had been drawn.

A small splash caught your attention and you snapped your head up in time to see a ripple cross the surface of the water. Something had disturbed the water. You saw a dark shadow move near the bottom of the pool, only noticing it as it crossed in front of the beam of your flashlight.

You were being watched. Whatever had dragged you into the water knew you were there and it was circling the pool. Waiting. Hunting. Whatever it was was sentient enough to know it had you trapped. It knew the only way out of the cave was through the water and it would wait.

You should have been terrified. After all, it was hunting you but your curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied until you caught a glimpse of it. You had to know what it was.

Carefully, you approached the edge of the pool, eyes scanning the dark and catching a large shadow as it swam in circles. Not in an erratic or frenzied pattern but calmly. Almost… leisurely.

As you peered over the edge of the rocks, the shadow stopped circling and started to swim to the surface. You watched in awe as a dark smooth body broke through the surface before you saw the fin. A shark fin. ‘Of course it was a shark,’ you told yourself watching as the creature moved towards you.

You pulled back slightly as it drew closer and closer. You were well aware that some sharks were known for their breaching behavior, namely great whites. This was definitely not a great white shark. It was much darker. It could have been a tiger shark but tigers weren’t known for their aggressive behavior.

Bull sharks on the other hand were and though bull sharks hadn’t been spotted in the area in over 20 years, it wasn’t completely impossible.You drew back entirely, hoping the animal wouldn’t try to jump out of the water to reach you.

As it drew closer, you watched as it dove down with just precision that you were starting to wonder if it was a shark after all. Sharks weren’t known for diving so steeply. They were gradual divers. You leaned over the edge and lost sight of the shadow. Your eyes caught the flickering of your flashlight and you cursed as it went dark, the illumination you had now gone and only the light of the moon allowing you to see.

The water seemed to still as you looked around. Had it left? Was the animal gone? Your instincts told you it was still there, waiting for you to slip up before it took you at its latest meal.

Even though sharks didn’t go out of their way to eat humans, if one was hungry enough, it would stalk one and wait. Just like any other starving predator.

As you looked around, you saw bubbles just under where you were leaning over the water.

You glanced down and let out an ear piercing scream as the creature surfaced quickly, forcing you back as it breached and landed on top of you. You struggled to push it away, taking care to avoid the head and any potential bites.

As you struggled under the weight of the animal, you could have sworn you heard… laughter?

Your eyes popped open and you looked up, fear and shock mixing as you stared at the creature above you.

You were looking into the face of a man. Your shock and fear turned briefly into anger as you tried to make sense of the situation. Had it been a man this whole time? Some weird cave hermit that had been tormenting you and pretending to be a shark to scare you into leaving his home?

“You should see your face!” he said as his laughter grew. You narrowed your eyes and tried to sit up but it was then you noticed the lower half of his body and gasped.

From the waist up, he was human. Golden tan skin that blended into the dark blackish-blue of his shark-like tail. A… merman? Your eyes traveled back up to his face, taking in each and every detail bathed in moonlight. He wore around his neck a black cord necklace with shells and in the middle, a pendant made from a shark tooth.

You watched as he continued to laugh, sharp pointed teeth peeking out from his plush peachy lips.

“You humans are so much fun,” he said as his laughter subsided. His hands rested on the rock under you as he leaned over you, his slim waist positioned between your thighs as he smirked at you. Leaning slightly to the left, you looked over his body again. The dark blackish-blue faded into a pale grayish-blue on the ventricle side and the same grayish-blue stripes covered his back. The fin on his back was just past his waist and was a very typical shark-like fin.

His tail was also the trademark shark fin but it was more like a thresher tail with the top part of the fin longer. Your eyes traveled back up to his face, inspecting the ocean blue irises that stared back at you. “What the--” you trailed off, pushing yourself up, forcing the creature to back up.

“What are you?” you asked, voice full of caution and curiosity. You watched as the creature fell back into the water, disappearing below the surface before popping back up, fixing you with a playful stare. “You’re the scientist,” he noted. “You tell me.”

You stared at him blankly. How could you even expect to explain this? Explain him? His very existence had been disputed and debated for hundreds of years. Mermaids were the stuff of legend and folklore. They weren’t supposed to exist.

If that were the case however, how did you explain this? How did you explain the creature treading water before you? “It has to be some sort of suit,” you mumbled, looking at the shark-like body under the water. The creature scoffed. “It’s always ‘seeing is believing’ with you humans until something shows up and then it’s all ‘has to be fake.’ Do you ever believe anything?” he asked.

You looked up, examining his face. His soft features. Round cheeks, plush pouty lips that started to lift into a crooked smile, showing off his pointed teeth. “I believe in science,” you explained and he rolled his eyes. “But I also believe there are things science can’t explain,” you continued.

You started to lower yourself into the water and he immediately shied away. You held up your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you,” you said softly. You saw his eyes flit to the knife strapped to your thigh. You followed his gaze and quickly removed the weapon.

“For protection,” you replied, setting it on the rocks behind you and facing him. “In case something tries to take a bite out of me,” you added. His brow furrowed. “If you get bit, maybe you shouldn’t get in the water,” he replied and you nodded. “I’ve never been bit,” you answered. “I’ve gotten close, but the knife is a last resort,” you continued.

“You have your teeth and your claws,” you reminded him. “My teeth and nails are no match for shark skin,” you added. “If you aren’t a match, why do you enter the ring?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. A smile spread across your face. “Because I study marine life,” you replied.

“I’m a marine biologist.”

The creature tilted his head the opposite direction. “Are you here to study me?” he asked. You shrugged before answering. “Up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know you existed,” you answered, swimming a little closer. He watched you cautiously. “So you didn’t know this cave is my home?” he asked and you shook your head. “No, I had no idea.”

He studied you carefully.

“Are you… a merman?” you asked suddenly. His expression changed, amusement crossing his features as he laughed. “A merman?” he asked incredulously. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Those pretty boys live safe and sound in their lairs, never venturing far from home,” he added.

You cocked your head to the side. “Pretty boys?” you asked. “Do you not think you’re pretty?”

Your question must have caught him off guard because he stopped smiling and stared at you, a slight pink hue reaching his cheeks. “N-no,” he answered finally. “I’m not.” You frowned at him. How could he not think he was? You found all sea life incredible beautiful but nothing you’d encountered before had made you think it was attractive and yet here he was before you.

“I think you’re pretty,” you replied. He stared at you, eyes widening. “Y-you do?” he asked softly, to which you nodded. “I think you’re very pretty,” you replied. He swam a little closer, inspecting your face. “So,” you said, breaking the silence. “If you aren’t a merman, what are you?”

He raised his gaze to meet yours, drawing it from your body under the water. “What do you think I am? Hmm, marine biologist?” he asked and you sighed, backing away from him and pulling yourself up onto the rock. “Sorry,” you said as you situated yourself. “My legs were getting tired.”

He watched as you massaged your calves. “I can only tread water for so long.”

“In my experience,” you started. “I’ve never seen anything like you,” you continued. “The shark part is unlike any species I’ve ever seen. It’s like an amalgamation of tiger and thresher sharks,” you noted. He smiled, showing off his pointy teeth as he swam closer. “So you’re saying I’m unique?” he asked.

You nodded as he drew closer. “Unique and otherworldly,” you added. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He pulled himself back up, leaning over your frame. “You’ve never seen anything like me?” You shook your head again. “Never,” you replied.

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared at one another. His dark hair had started to dry a bit, the ends of his bangs falling into his eyes. “What do you call yourself?” you asked, tilting your head to the right. He smiled, mimicking your movement. “Jisung,” he replied. “My name is Jisung.”

“Jisung,” you repeated. He leaned in, eyes watching your lips as you spoke. “I like the way you say my name,” he whispered. You could feel your heart rate kicking up as he leaned closer. ‘What is he doing?’ You stared back as his eyes moved up to meet your gaze. “What is your name?” he asked just as softly as before.

You froze. He was asking your name? Should you tell him? It’s not like he was going to look you up or something. You then wondered if you should tell any kind of sentient creature your name. Didn’t that give them power over you or something? You must have taken longer than he expected because he smirked at you.

“What’s the matter? Shark got your tongue?” he asked, amused by his own joke.

Your facade broke and you smiled. “Y/N,” you finally answered. “I’m Y/N.” Jisung smiled back, a genuine smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he replied, lowering back into the water and staring up at you.

“Likewise,” you replied.

After meeting Jisung that night, you promised to come back. And came back you did.

You managed to gain his trust enough to draw a small vial of blood, and take a couple pictures mainly of his tail and markings. You promised to keep his existence a secret, making sure all your research on him was done at home and that you kept everything under wraps.

A few days turned into a week and you came back almost every night, getting to know Jisung and more about his existence. You learned that he wasn’t a merman, like he had said. He was a samebito. He had explained that it was similar to a merman but different folklore and legends.

A week and a half had passed since you first met Jisung and you were currently sitting on the edge of the boat, writing in your notebook, going over your notes before suiting up and jumping in the water.

A splash caught your attention and you glanced up. You weren’t sure why you even looked, it was night time and you couldn’t even see the water except near your boat. You grabbed the spotlight, flipping it on and turning it slowly until something came into view and you sighed.

“Someone’s impatient,” you chuckled, letting go of the light and returning to your notes as Jisung swam over to your boat. “I got lonely,” he said softly as he reached the end of your boat. He quickly pulled himself up to sit on the side of the boat near you.

“What’re you writing?” he asked, leaning over to see your notebook. “Just some notes,” you mumbled, finishing up your notes and closing the notebook quickly, and setting it aside. You turned to look at him and your smile fell upon seeing the fresh scar on his shoulder.

“What happened here?” you asked, voice laced with concern as you scooted closer.

He glanced down and let out a chuckle. “Oh,” he said softly. “I got a little too close to a shark feed ground,” he continued. “I’ll heal pretty quickly,” he added as you inspected the wound. “I was hunting and got in the way,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Have you eaten?” you asked, looking up at him. He met your gaze and hesitated. “What?” he asked and watched as you got up and walked over to the opposite side of the boat, lifting one of the seats and reached in to pull out one of the fish you’d caught earlier.

“Here,” you said, holding it up. “I mean,” you added, turning your head to look at the fish. “I could cook it,” you said softly. Jisung smiled and chuckled. “Did you catch that for me?” he asked as you walked over, holding the fish up. You nodded. “There’s more in the cooler,” you added.

Jisung chuckled and shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “I’ve eaten,” he explained, taking the fish from you. “I don’t want to gross you out,” he added as he inspected it. “Oh,” you said dejectedly. Jisung looked up and handed the fish back. “Just keep it on ice for a little while longer and sell it if you don’t eat fish,” he said softly.

You took the fish and took it back to the cooler, closing it and placing the seat down before heading back and sitting back down. “So when did this happen?” you asked, nodding at his shoulder. He glanced down again as he thought.

“Oh, maybe like a couple hours ago,” he replied and your eyes widened in shock. “Wait, really?” you asked and he nodded, looking confused at your shock. “Yeah, I heal pretty quickly,” he added with a laugh. You leaned forward, reaching up to brush your fingers against his skin.

“Weird,” you murmured, making him throw his head back with a laugh. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly. Jisung shook his head. “It’s okay,” he replied. “Like you said, you’ve never met anyone like me.” You chuckled, nodding. “That’s true,” you added.

Silence fell over the two of you as you looked up at the sky, the waves lapping at the sides of the boat and a gentle breeze blowing through the air. You looked over at Jisung to find him already looking at you, a calm expression on his face.

“What?” you asked softly and he shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. “Nothing,” he answered. “Oh!” he said quickly sitting up. “I found something really cool while out the other night!” he said and turned towards you.

“Wanna see it?” he asked. You nodded, feeling excited. “Where are we going?” you asked, getting up and starting to strip to your bikini, not noticing the way Jisung’s eyes followed your movement and body. You moved to grab your wetsuit.

Jisung waited patiently for you to pull it on. “Jump in,” Jisung said, looking at the water and you looked at the water. “We’re swimming there?” you asked, making him chuckle. “It’s not far,” he answered. “It’s worth it, I promise.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he groaned. “Live a little,” he added with a wink before rolling towards the edge of the boat and diving into the water. You sighed and grabbed your boat keys, pulling the elastic over your wrist and walking over to the light, shutting it off the light and heading to the bow of the boat, grabbing your flashlight and snorkel mask.

As you reached the back, you turned the light on to see Jisung was floating, waiting for you. “Where are we going?” you asked as you held the flashlight between your knees as you pulled the mask on. “Not far,” Jisung said as you grabbed the flashlight and climbed down the ladder, joining him in the water.

Jisung took your hand and gently pulled you along. “Come here,” he said softly. “Hold on,” he added, guiding your arms around his neck. “Are you sure?” you asked, softly, cheeks burning as you looked at him so closely. He turned his head to look at you, his own cheeks turning soft pink.

“Uh,” yeah,” he said softly. “Just try not to get under me,” he added.

It felt weird, hanging off him from behind as he started swimming. It almost felt like you were riding a shark, the trashing as he started off but soon turned into a smooth motion as he zipped through the water, propelled only by the powerful tail.

Jisung was careful to stay near the surface so you didn’t have to hold your breath with the mask. You could tell he was holding back, not swimming as fast as you knew he could go. You’d seen him zipping through the water before, breaching the surface at speeds you suspected most sharks could reach.

This was much slower than you’d witnessed.

Jisung started to slow, lifting his head out of the water. As he came to a stop, you slid from his back, reaching up to remove your snorkel mask. “We’re almost there,” he said, looking up at the stars overhead. You glanced skyward, letting out a soft gasp.

“Wow,” you whispered. Jisung chuckled, grabbing your hand gently. “Come on,” he said quietly, tugging you through the water towards the rocky beach. “I’ve seen these rocks when visiting you,” you commented as he led you towards them. “You’ll need your goggles for this,” he said, turning to look back at you. As soon as the words left his lips, you pulled them back on, dumping any water out of them.

“Now what?” you asked as he took your hand again. “Hold your breath,” he instructed. You took a deep breath and allowed him to pull you under the water, leading you down towards a cave opening. It wasn’t unlike the entrance to his cave; only this one was much narrower.

The cave opening seemed to go on forever, winding around as you let Jisung pull you. Your lungs were starting to burn and you knew if you didn’t hurry, you’d start to suffocate. Finally, Jisung pulled you free from the narrow cave into a much larger one and pushed you towards the surface.

You kicked towards the surface of the pool, breaching at the same time he did. Jisung floated near as you coughed, allowing air to fill your lungs again, the taste of salt on your tongue. “I had no idea there were so many of these,” you gasped. “How many are there?”

Jisung chuckled, taking your hand. “Come,” he said simply, pulling you through the water. The inside of this cave was much different than his. Instead of a single round chamber, there were multiple round chambers, connected together.

Jisung pulled you along into the next chamber until you reached the last one. “Through there,” he nodded towards a window in the rock wall. “This is so cool,” you commented as you swam over, pulling yourself up to peer out.

It was then that you saw it.

Jisung pulled himself up next to you, a wide grin on his face. “Wow,” you whispered. “Cool, huh?” he asked, resting his chin on his forearm.

Outside the cave was more stretch of ocean, waves rolling up onto a sandy beach. There was only about twenty feet between the beach and the treeline behind it and the beach stretched for about fifty feet between two rocky bluffs.

All along the beach, rolling in the waves were glowing blue lights. “Bioluminescent plankton,” you whispered. “They come here every night to feed,” he whispered. “It’s pretty cool, with the stars and the lights,” he continued.

You turned to look at him.

“This little alcove is remote,” he explained. “Human’s haven’t started colonizing it,” he added. “I think it might be privately owned,” he continued. You glanced at him before looking back at the beach. “I hope it stays like this,” you whispered, also resting your chin on your forearm.

You sat in silence, watching the lights dance in the waves. You could feel Jisung’s eyes on you and you turned to look at him, your cheeks burning. You watched his eyes flit between your eyes and your lips before he slowly moved. He lifted his hand, moving it to cup your face, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek.

Your heart started to hammer in your chest as he leaned closer. At that moment, a shrill laugh rang out from the direction of the trees. Jisung pulled back abruptly and you turned away from his gaze to look at the beach as a beam of light bounced along the sand.

“Teenagers,” you whispered as a group of teens came out of the woods, giggling as they descended on the shore. Jisung scoffed as he watched them. “Ungrateful little shits.” You snorted into a laugh. “Come on,” you said softly. “Before they decide to come into the water and find this cave with us inside.”

Jisung allowed you to lead him away, back through the cave. You pulled your mask back on, taking another deep breath and letting Jisung pull you through the narrow opening and back into the open ocean. You took your time swimming back, only hitching a ride when your legs gave out.

Back at the boat, Jisung watched you climb up the ladder and pulled himself up on the side again, watching as you disappeared into the cabin. In the privacy of your boat, you stripped and dried off, pulling on dry clothes and running a towel haphazardly over your hair before returning to Jisung.

His hair had started to dry as he lounged on the side of the boat, his tail hanging down the side of the vessel. You chuckled, turning on the lights of the boat and Jisung opened one eye to look at you. “Are you gonna sleep there?” you asked as you walked over, taking a seat on the cushion below where he was lounging.

He propped himself up, looking down at you. “What happened back there,” he started, his voice taking on a more serious tone. You looked away, feeling a sour taste bubbling up from your stomach. ‘He wants to forget it,’ you told yourself.

“It’s fine,” you interrupted. “It can’t happen, I know,” you added. You refused to look up at him so you missed the way his brows knitted together as he stared at you, a slight pout on his lips. “That’s what you’re going to say, right?” you asked when he didn’t answer.

“I’m a human and you’re not. So we can’t.”

You felt his fingers move under your chin, turning and tilting your head to face him. “Stop jumping to conclusions,” he said sternly before leaning in and closing the distance, pressing his lips against yours. For a split second, you panicked before accepting the gesture and melting into the kiss.

You whined as he started to pull back. You pulled him back in by the back of his neck, kissing him more fiercely. Jisung accepted your advances, lips parting as he took back control, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You pulled him closer, leaning back onto the cushions and forcing him to follow your movements.

Jisung groaned into the kiss and pulled back quickly. “Wait,” he gasped. “Sorry,” you whispered as he pushed himself up. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just give me a second.” You sat up as he pulled back, taking a few deep breaths. “Things were getting a little intense,” he admitted.

You smiled shyly. “Sorry,” you replied. “I got a little excited I guess,” you added, shrugging. Jisung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “That’s okay,” he answered. “I did, too,” he admitted with a grin. “It happened really fast. I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” he continued.

You shook your head, pulling your knees up and resting your head against the backrest of the seat. “It’s okay,” you said softly, looking up at him in the lights of the boat. “I wanted it.” Jisung nibbled on his bottom lip nervously. “You did?” he asked, his voice sounding optimistic.

You nodded. “I did,” you reassured him. “You didn’t cross a line.”

“That’s a relief.”

Silence fell over you as you watched him and he watched you for a while. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you spoke. “Do you ever get scared?” you asked him. He tilted his head curiously. “Scare?” he asked. “Of what?”

“The town? Fishermen? Being discovered?”

Jisung hesitated, no doubt pondering his answer. “Sometimes,” he answered finally. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it but I like being left alone,” he said, smiling before speaking. “Well, mostly alone,” he added. “I just want to live my life like most creatures.”

“Have you ever been spotted before?” you asked and he smiled wider. “You tell me? Heard any stories?” you snorted as you realized what he was hinting at. “No, thankfully,” you replied. Jisung chuckled at your response. “There you have it. Safe and undiscovered except by you.”

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Your cheeks heated up again. You could feel the heat spread all the way down to your core and you tried not to focus on the feeling lingering in your stomach. Jisung noticed a shift in your demeanor and tilted his head.

“You okay?” he asked softly, moving his hand to caress your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You nodded wordlessly. “Yeah,” you answered. “I’m great,” you lied. “But it’s getting late,” you commented. “I should probably head out.”

You got up, Jisung sitting up and watching as you did. “Hey,” he called softly, reaching out for your hand. You allowed him to take hold of it and pull you closer. “I have to go hunting tomorrow but I’ll see you after, yeah?” he asked. You nodded, leaning in to press your forehead against his.

“Goodnight,” you said softly. Jisung pulled you in, placing a tender kiss against your lips.

“Goodnight,” he whispered. You watched as he dove off the side of the boat and into the water with a splash, only surfacing to look up at you. You waved at him as he stared up at you.

“See you tomorrow!” he called before disappearing below the surface, no doubt heading into his cave.

“See you tomorrow,” you whispered.

Only you didn’t see him the next day. Or the day after that. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

The night after Jisung took you to see the bioluminescent plankton and kissed you, your dreams were plagued with him. They started innocently, spending time exploring the caves but they soon took a turn and you were starting to have inappropriate thoughts and dreams about him.

Things you should definitely not be thinking about.

The dreams only escalated after that and soon you were dreaming about him showing up in your home, shark tail gone and replaced with human legs.

It was starting to get out of hand.

You hadn’t been back to see Jisung in almost a week and you were feeling guilty not only for disappearing but also for having continuous wet dreams about him. How were you supposed to look him in the eye when all you could think about was him pinning you down and having his way with you?

You knew sooner or later, you’d have to go back out there. You couldn’t just not ever come back. You at least needed to explain to him why you’d been avoiding him and avoiding coming back.

The final push came when you were at the market, looking at some cuts of steak for dinner when you overheard a conversation at the next stall over.

“You’re so full of shit, Paul,” a woman said, shaking her head as she continued crocheting. “No I’m not!” the man you presumed was Paul replied. “I saw it! Looked like a great big tiger shark but it had the upper body of a man!”

You froze, eyes widening as you inspected a particular cut of steak. ‘Jisung?’

“And where did you see this mermaid?” another man asked, laughing. “Near the pier! I was doing some fishing off the end when I spotted it! Was huge! Like ten feet long!” You felt your heart start to pound as you forced a smile and pointed out two steaks.

The stall owner packaged them up for you. “Thanks,” you murmured, handing over a few notes to pay for the meat as the conversation beside you carried on.

“I swear, I saw it!”

You walked away as the others around the man laughed and waved their hands, dismissing his claims. Upon returning home, your mind was made up for you as you entered your kitchen, making one of the steaks for yourself and saving the other. You wonder if Jisung had ever had steak before.

After dinner, you packed your stuff, grabbing your bikini and house keys. You stopped and grabbed the steak from the fridge and headed out of the house, locking up and walking towards the marina, bag slung over your shoulder.

You ignored the night beach goers enjoying bonfires as you headed for the docks. Once on your boat, you casted off, backing your boat out and driving out towards the caves where you knew Jisung had taken up residence.

You reached the rocks in record time, casting your anchor and moving to lower the microphone in the water. You normally didn’t have to use it but you figured after a week, you might need to use it to draw Jisung out.

You turned the dial, starting the dolphin call and sat on one of the seats.

You waited patiently, arms crossed over your chest before you got up and headed into the cabin, changing out of your clothes and into your bikini and then pulling on the wetsuit. As you exited the cabin you heard a splash and looked up to see Jisung perched on the side of your boat staring at you.

There was no smile nor greeting. He merely stared at you blankly.

Neither of you said anything as you stared at one another. Finally Jisung spoke.

“What?” he asked shortly. You crossed to the cooler, lifting the seat and opening the cooler lid. You pulled out the steak and held it up to show him. “Ever had beef?” you asked. Jisung narrowed his eyes. “That’s all you have to say?” he asked. You tore open the brown paper and removed the plastic, holding up the steak.

“Have you ever had steak?”

He glared at you. “Is this some kind of test?” he asked. You shook your head, walking over to where he was and climbed up to sit next to him. “No,” you replied. “I was at the market earlier and got steak,” you explained. He stared at you, glancing down at the meat and back up.

“And this is relevant, how?” he asked. He was clearly upset at you and you couldn’t fault him. You disappeared after he’d kissed you. You presented the steak. “How about you eat and I’ll talk, hmm?” you asked. He looked up at you hesitantly before he nodded.

You handed him the steak to inspect. “You said it’s beef?” he asked. You nodded as he raised it to sniff. “Cow,” you added. “It’s actually a really tender cut,” you continued. “I cooked the other one earlier and ate it for dinner.”

You turned away as he nibbled at the end of the steak. “I also heard an interesting story at the market when I was buying this steak,” you explained. “One of the guys there, a local fisherman. name’s Paul,” you said, glancing at him.

“Well, Paul told everyone in his vicinity that he’d seen something out on the pier while fishing this morning,” you continued, noticing how Jisung’ gaze flickered to you. “Said he’d seen something… strange.” Jisung lowered the partially eaten steak.

“Said it was huge. Looked like a massive tiger shark,” you continued as Jisung stared unblinkingly at you. “Said it had the torso of a man.” Realization dawned on his face as you spoke. “I was spotted?” he asked and you sighed. “What were you doing at the pier in broad daylight?” you asked.

Jisung looked away from you and down at the meat. “I went looking for you,” he admitted. Your heart skipped a beat. “Why?” you asked softly. “Because you vanished,” he replied, looking up at you. “I haven’t seen you for a week!”

Your stomach sank. It was as you feared. “I’m sorry,” you said softly as he ripped the steak apart with his hands. “I was dealing with some things,” you added as he tore into one of the pieces. You watched as he chewed the raw meat and swallowed. “Are you okay now?” he asked.

You nodded. “For the most part,” you added. “I’m still… dealing,” you admitted. Jisung devoured the last of the steak and looked at you. “Do you have any more of that?” he asked, sniffing the air. You chuckled and shook your head. “No,” you replied. “Just the one.”

He pouted. “That was really good,” he murmured, looking disappointed. He perked up quickly. “You’re here though,” he added and you nodded. “I know,” you replied. “And I’m sorry I was gone.” He shook his head and nodded towards the water. “I have something to show you, come on!” he said and before you could answer, he rolled off the boat with a splash into the water below.

Sighing you grabbed your snorkel mask and turned off the boat lights, making sure to grab your keys and the ankle flashlight. Once you were equipped, you climbed down the ladder and into the water with a splash. Making sure the mask was secure, you ducked your head.

You could see Jisung swimming near the opening to his cave. Once he was certain you spotted him, he slipped into the narrow opening and you took a deep breath before following, removing the mouth piece of your snorkel.

You pulled yourself into the opening and followed the path to the interior chamber, kicking toward the surface. Jisung was sitting on the ledge of the pool and you moved over to join him, pulling the mask off and setting it aside.

“What did you wanna show me?” you asked as you pulled yourself up. Jisung held up his hand, showing you a collection of shells. “Scallops,” you muttered, picking up one of the shells. “And this,” he added, showing you an intact clam.

“It already died,” he explained as he carefully pried it open with his nails. “But this is what I really wanted to show you,” he explained as he picked up something small and round and handed it over, placing it in your palm. It was a pearl.

“It’s so pretty,” you breathed, holding the pearl closer. Jisung smiled before he slipped into the water. “I have one more thing to show you,” he added and disappeared under the water, diving down to the bottom of the pool.

He resurfaced moments later and swam closer, holding up something small, smooth, and purple. “Sea glass,” he said as you took the smooth stone-like material. “I see this stuff all the time,” he explained as he rested his chin on your knee. You smiled at him. “You’re giving gifts now?” you asked and he nodded.

He took a deep breath, the smile on his face dropping. “Is something different about you?” he asked suddenly. You glanced down at him and shook your head. “No,” you replied. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. “Something smells different…”

Your cheeks burned as he leaned closer, inhaling your scent.

“Oh,” he said softly, glancing up at you.

“Are you-”

“These are really pretty gifts,” you interrupted, looking down at the pearl and sea glass. Jisung’s brow furrowed as you avoided his gaze. “Y/N,” he started and when you still didn’t look at him, he pulled himself up, caging you in with his arms as his body slotted between your thighs.

You let out a surprised squeak, the pearl and sea glass falling from your hands and into the water with a plop. Jisung was inspecting your face, leaning closer. “Jisung,” you warned as he leaned even closer, forcing you to lean back, holding yourself up with one hand.

One of his hands moved to your lower back and pulled your hips flush against him, forcing another squeak from your lips. Heat spread into your cheeks and pooled in the pit of your stomach and Jisung’s eyes widened as the realization hit him.

“So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” he whispered. You shook your head. “I haven’t been avoiding-AHH!” you gasped as he very quickly pinned you down, your back flat against the rock as he hovered over you.

“You have,” he murmured. “You’ve been avoiding me. Was it the kiss?” he asked, his hands moving to pin your wrists together. “Did it have some sort of effect on--”

Jisung stopped, his words catching as he caught the change of your scent. The sudden flood of arousal that filled the cavern.

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and eyes darkening. “So that does it for you, does it?” he asked, grinning lopsidedly at you, showing his sharp teeth off.

“Being pinned down and unable to move?”

You stared up at him, breathing heavily as heat rushed to your core, a tingling sensation starting to form in your toes. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice much softer than you intended. Jisung’s grin widened. “I think you do. I think you like this,” he continued.

You shook your head but your voice wouldn’t come out. Jisung tilted his head, black eyes boring into yours. “I think you’re lying,” he said, leaning down, his lips inches from yours. “I think you like the idea of being unable to fight back,” he chuckled, nose nuzzling into your cheek.

“Maybe I should teach you a lesson for disappearing on me for three nights. Making me worry about you.” You let out an involuntary whimper, feeling his hips grind against yours. Jisung let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, baby,” Jisung whispered as he ghosted his lips over the skin of your neck up to your ear.

“You really should have stayed away another night.”

You let out a squeal as Jisung pulled back, water splashing as he pulled you with him.

You surfaced, kicking under you to stay afloat as you looked around quickly. You turned back to the rocky ledge, to pull yourself up but as you got about halfway out of the water, Jisung resurfaced, pressing against your back and pinning you against the rocks.

You let out a cry of surprise as he chuckled in your ear, his hands wandering to your wetsuit and your eyes widened as you heard a rip of the fabric. ‘Did he just…’

When Jisung pulled back to admire his handiwork, you realized he’d ripped the entire back of your wetsuit open, completely ignoring the zipper right next to it.

You lowered yourself into the water and turned to look over your shoulder at him, finding half of his face submerged in the water. “What the hell!” you snapped. Jisung darted forward, pinning you against the rock wall. “Sorry, little fish,” he chuckled as his hands were quick to start pulling your wetsuit off, leaving you in just your swimsuit.

“That was my favorite wetsuit,” you pouted as you watched it sink into the depths of the pool. Jisung blocked your view, taking your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, leaning in until your lips were inches apart. You stared back at him, unmoving. He hesitated, a slight smirk crossing his features before he finally closed the distance, kissing you.

Your lips parted in a gasp allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. Your own hands had moved to the rocks, trying to keep yourself from sinking. Jisung pulled back, lips ghosting across your cheek and kissing down the side of your neck.

You felt him nip at the string of your bikini top. “I could easily snap this,” he mused before continuing to kiss along your shoulder. You opened your mouth to retort but he pressed his hips against yours, ripping a moan from your throat instead.

Another roll of his hips and your hands slipped from the rocks. Jisung was quick to grab your wrists, placing your hands on his shoulders. “If you need to hold onto something, hold onto me,” he said, watching your face as he rutted against you again.

Your head was swimming, heat pooling in your lower belly as the shark creature grinded against you, one hand holding onto the rocky ledge while the other moved down to your thigh, holding your hips in place. The rocks in the wall behind you jutted out, pushing into your back but you couldn’t be bothered to care, not when Jisung was breathing heavily into your ear, teasing you with his words.

“You know I could pin you down and have my way with you right now if I wanted to, right?”

You let out another moan as he rutted against you. “What’s stopping you,” you breathed, your voice just audible over the sound of the water lapping against the rocks. Jisung chuckled softly, his breath fanning over your collar and neck. “Because,” he started, slowing his movements.

“I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

One of your hands moved up the back of his neck, tangling in his dark locks. “Then consider this my consent,” you whispered before pulling him into a heated kiss. It only lasted for a few moments before Jisung lifted you up out of the water, placing you on the edge of the rock ledge.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, reaching up and untying one side of your bikini bottoms, letting the material fall before untying the other side and grabbing your hips in his hands. You had no time to ask what he was doing before you felt his tongue rough against your clit.

“Oh shit,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, one hand moving to his hair. Jisung ignored your grip on him, merely licking slowly up your slit. “That steak tasted amazing,” he noted, his voice low and gravelly.

“But you taste divine.”

You let out another moan as his lips attached to your clit, teasing, flicking, and sucking on the sensitive nub. You felt the tips of his pointed nails digging slightly into the flesh of your thighs. “Oh shit,” you gasped as he nipped at your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you whined, back arching as he lapped at your clit. “Keep saying my name like that,” he groaned against you. “Sounds so good when you say it like that, baby.”

“I need you pliant,” he murmured, pulling back to look at your slit. “But I don’t wanna hurt you,” he added softly. “Spread your legs for me, cutie,” he instructed. “And keep them spread.”

You did as he asked, spreading your thighs, squeaking out a small yelp when he pushed your knees closer to you. “Hold right here,” he said, patting the backs of your knees. You replaced his hands and groaned as you felt his tongue against your slit.

“Relax for me,” you heard him mutter and you took a deep breath.

You felt the tip of his tongue push into your hole and both of you groaned; you at the intrusion and him at the taste and warmth of your cunt. You felt him ease more of his tongue into your walls and wondered if he’d been hiding the majority of his tongue.

You moaned, walls clenching as his tongue moved in and out of you slowly. “F-fuck. I didn’t know you could do that,” you whined. Jisung hummed against you, sending vibrations against your clit and you gasped out.

Just as quickly, he withdrew his tongue and pulled back. “I think that’s enough,” he said as you propped yourself up, chest heaving. “I’ll just have to take my time easing into you,” he added, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer.

You let out a yelp as your lower half fell into the water. “Turn around,” he growled, grabbing your hips and pushing you into position as you held onto the ledge. Jisung lifted you partially out of the water, holding you in place. “W-what’re you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you, baby,” he chuckled. You felt something warm and wet grind against you and you let out a moan. “O-okay,” you said as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit. “It’s not too late to tap out,” he joked and you shook your head.

“No,” you retorted. “I want this.”

Jisung hissed, the tip of his cock slipping into you and making you gasp at the intrusion. You hadn’t gotten to see it before he was pushing it into you but it felt huge. You moaned, your walls stretching to accommodate him as he slid in, inch by inch.

“Hold still,” you heard him whisper as he pinned you against the ledge. “What--FUCK!”

You cursed, gasping as he thrust forward, sheathing his entire length inside you with one motion.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned, knees bumping into the rock wall as Jisung bottomed out. “Hah, so t-tight,” you heard him grunt. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” he chuckled, resting his forearm over your back. “Now just stay still, baby,” he continued, slowly pulling back and snapping his hips forward, making you gasp.

“Fuck you feel good. I should have done this a lot sooner,” he mused, setting a steady pace, thrusting into you from behind. “J-Jisung,” you whimpered. You felt his breath as he leaned in close to your ear. “This was more fun when you fought back,” he panted. “So fight me.”

You tried to push yourself up but he just forced you back down. “Come on, baby,” he cooed. “You can do better than that. Beg me to stop,” he laughed, slamming into you, making you see stars with each thrust. “S-stop,” you stammered weakly.

Jisung laughed again, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked. “Come on, pet,” he continued, grunting with effort. “Really beg me.”

S-stop, please,” you whimpered, finding a little more strength in your voice. You didn’t want him to stop though. Not when it felt so good. “That’s it,” Jisung groaned. “Keep it going. Beg me not to fuck you. Tell me you want me to let you go. Plead with me,” he growled.

You gasped as he gave you a hard thrust, stealing the words from your tongue and the breath from your lungs. “J-Jisung. Stop. This is wr-wrong. P-please s-uh-stop,” you moaned into the rocky surface. You noticed how your whines and pleas only spurred him on.

You tried again to push yourself up only for him to grab both of your wrists, forcing you back down against the rocks, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand. “You really think you can fight me off?” he scoffed, thrusts increasing in speed.

“You think you’re strong enough?”

You shook your head, moans slipping from your lips as your mind started to go blank. “That’s right, little fish,” he smirked. “You’re powerless against me. You can’t do anything. You’re completely at my mercy. This entire time you think you’ve been in control?”

He chuckled darkly. “You haven’t been in control of shit. I let you think you had the power here. You’re out of your depth, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re up against,” he growled, slowing his thrusts to deep rolls, making your eyes roll back and a low moan escape the back of your throat.

“I let you leave every night but you always come back to me,” he continued. “Why do you think that is?” he asked softly, continuing to grind against you, his cock lodged deep in your walls. “Because you’re mine,” he growled. “You’ve been mine from the moment you entered this cave and you’ll be mine when you leave ‘cause no matter how many times you leave after this…” he trailed off, licking against your pulse point.

“You’ll always come back to me.”

You let out a mix between a scream and a moan as you felt his sharp teeth pierce your skin. ‘He just bit you. You’re gonna bleed out, you idiot!’

Despite the sharp stinging pain, the bite was more superficial with only minimal bleeding. It was meant to scar you. To mark you. You were now marked as his.

Upon sinking his teeth into your skin, Jisung felt your walls contract around his cock and he groaned, his thrusts regaining the same relentless pace from before, slamming into you repeatedly, savoring your cries of both pleasure and pain from the bite. It would heal. It wasn’t that deep anyway.

Your walls tightened, restricting his movement as he felt you cum and he coaxed you through it, whispering words of encouragement in your ear as you came down from your high. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

You moaned in response as he kept going. “It’s my turn, little one,” he murmured. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. Just let go. I’ve got you,” he added, keeping a firm hold on your wrists. “Gonna fill this cute little pussy with my cum and make you mine.”

He readjusted your hips so the rock wasn’t digging into your hips before chasing his own. The sound of skin on skin echoed around the small cavern, bouncing off the rock walls, mixing with your moans until Jisung finally let out a slew of curses, strung between moans as he came, burying his cock deep inside you and filling your cunt with his seed.

He knew it wouldn’t take. You were human after all. He couldn’t actually breed with you but damn did it feel good to pretend for a few minutes as he came down from his own orgasm, muttering into your ear about how you were bound to him forever and how cute you’d look carrying his child.

When the moment passed, Jisung inspected the bite wound to your shoulder, clicking his tongue. “I could have bitten harder,” he murmured as he released your arms. “It might not show once it heals,” he added as you pushed yourself up. “If it doesn’t show up,” you said, your voice hoarse.

“I guess you’ll just have to try again.”

Jisung smiled as you looked over your shoulder at him. “How about tomorrow?” he asked, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. You rolled your eyes. “I meant after it heals, you perverted sex fiend!”

Jisung pouted as you pushed him away, his cock slipping out of you and retracting back into his body as you shakily pulled yourself up onto the rock ledge. “But,” he started as you grabbed your bikini bottoms and turned to face him. “No buts,” you retorted. “Let me heal first, otherwise you might kill me.”

Jisung watched as you put your swimsuit back on, retying the strings. He watched as you moved back to sit on the edge, dipping your legs into the water before moving to push your thighs apart and slot between them, resting his arms on the tops of your thighs.

He smiled a toothy grin when you looked down, meeting his gaze before he spoke.

“So, the day after tomorrow?”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2023

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highinmiamiii · 4 months ago

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UH OH, WE’RE IN TROUBLE 18+

sub prison!butcher x jersey wife reader

(A/N) hellooo fellow butcher’s bitches! This chapter is part of the prison!butcher x jersey wife au @sickforbillybutcher/ @foxiewrites and i came up with. if you haven’t checked out the rest of this au i highly suggest you do, i’ve reblogged all parts under the tag:

#prison!billy butcher so you should be able to find them if you search that on my blog. enjoy reading love u all so much thank you sm for all your support on the last kessler fic 🥹

(cw: slightly sub butcher, violence, mention of severe injury, prison/hospital setting, teasing, handjob, sneaky/risky sexual activities, pregnancy, i think that’s it)

Billy Butcher stood in the dim, cold corner of the prison yard, the relentless hum of the razor wire above adding to the tension. His knuckles tightened as he slipped a few crumpled bills into the waiting hand of a massive, tattooed inmate.

“Make it bloody,” Billy growled, his eyes hard as steel. “Like I got in over me head.”

The brute nodded, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he pocketed the cash. “Got it, Butcher.”

Billy turned, bracing himself for the pain that was about to come. He’d taken worse beatings, no doubt, but this one had a purpose—one that made every bruise and broken bone worth it. The thought of seeing Dollface, even if it meant being shackled to a hospital bed, made his heart pound in a way that surprised him.

He gritted his teeth as the first punch landed squarely on his jaw, the taste of blood filling his mouth instantly. The second and third punches came quick, his ribs cracking under the force. Billy staggered, but stayed upright, spitting blood onto the cold concrete.

He wasn’t thinking about the pain or the grunts of the other inmates watching the spectacle. His mind was on Dollface. On the way she’d looked the last time he saw her, all cheetah print and big hair, with that fiery Jersey attitude he couldn’t get enough of.

The thought of her carrying his child—a bloody nugget, of all things—was a mix of pride and terror that he couldn’t shake. He’d never imagined himself as a father, especially not in a place like this. His own father was a right bastard, and the idea that he could turn out the same kept him awake at night more than the guards’ shouts or the clanging of cell doors.

The final blow sent him to the ground, gasping for breath, his vision blurry. The brute stepped back, admiring his handiwork as the guards rushed in, yelling and pushing the crowd back.

Billy smirked through the pain, coughing up more blood as they cuffed him. “Bloody hell… ’bout time,” he muttered, just loud enough for the nearest guard to hear.

The hospital was a grim, sterile place, but it was better than the cell, he thought as they wheeled him into the small, dimly lit room.

Dollface’s hands shook as she clutched her phone, the guard’s gruff voice still echoing in her ears. “Your husband’s been hurt—he’s in the hospital.” The words sliced through her like a knife. The second she hung up, she was out the door, nearly knocking over a potted plant in her rush. Her heart pounded as she navigated the chaotic streets of Jersey, each red light and slow driver adding to her panic.

By the time she arrived at the hospital, her hands were sweating, and her throat was dry. She shoved past the automatic doors, her designer leather cheetah-print bag swinging wildly at her side as she made a beeline for the front desk.

“Billy Butcher, I’m his wife” she gasped, barely able to catch her breath. “Where the hell is he?”

The nurse looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of a frantic, visibly distressed woman, and quickly typed into her computer. “He’s in room 306. But ma’am, I have to—”

Dollface didn’t wait for the nurse to finish. She bolted down the hall, the sterile smell of antiseptic and the flickering fluorescent lights doing nothing to calm her nerves. She could feel her heart in her throat, pounding so hard she thought it might burst.

Finally, she reached his room. Her hands were trembling as she pushed the door open, her eyes immediately locking onto Billy, lying in the hospital bed, bruised and battered but somehow still managing to smirk at her like he hadn’t just scared her half to death.

“Jesus Christ, Billy,” she breathed, rushing to his side. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she hesitated for a moment before gently touching his bruised face. “What the hell happened to ya?”

Billy grunted, shifting slightly under the weight of the shackles that bound him to the bed. “Ah, you know, love. Got into a bit of a scrap, that’s all.”

“Scrap?” she echoed, her voice cracking as she took in the cuts and bruises marring his skin. “You look like you got run over by a fucking truck—“

He chuckled, wincing slightly as the movement sent a jolt of pain through his ribs. “Don’t worry ’bout me, Trouble. Just shattered me collarbone and fractured me clavicle, should be fine. Takes more than a few punches to put me down.”

Dollface shook her head, her worry deepening as she sat down beside him, her fingers curling around his hand. “FRACTU— are you kidding me?!? I swear to god if you don’t get yourself killed i’ll do it myself—“ She hics out a broken sob, covering her mouth and looking away trying to cool her temper. “T-this isn’t funny, Billy. I was so terrified when they called. Thought I was gonna lose ya.”

He squeezed her hand, his rough fingers brushing against her soft skin. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, love. Not when I’ve got you and the little one waitin’ for me.”

At that, her eyes welled up with more tears, but she blinked them away, determined not to let him see her cry. She reached up, clutching the gold cross around her neck and kissing it softly before leaning down to press it to his forehead. “You better not. You’re stuck with us now.”

Billy’s gaze softened as he watched her, the fierce determination in her eyes reminding him why he was doing this—why he had put himself through this pain. He needed to see her, to touch her, to remind himself that there was something worth fighting for outside of those cold, grey walls.

For a few moments, they just sat there, her hand in his, the room filled with a quiet understanding between them. He could see the toll this was taking on her, the constant worry, the stress of being pregnant while her husband was locked up in a place like that.

He swallowed hard, the usual bravado slipping as he looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Dollface. For puttin’ ya through all this shite.”

She shook her head again, squeezing his hand even tighter. “Don’t apologize, Billy. Just… just promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t do this without ya.”

He nodded, his eyes locking onto hers. “I promise, love. I’ll be more careful. For you… and for” He takes a deep breath and glances down at her increasingly by the day pudgy, slightly round tummy. His eyes light up and he smirks before looking back up into her eyes.

Dollface’s lips quivered into a small smile, and she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “We’re gonna get through this, Billy. No matter what.”

He returned the kiss, lingering just a moment longer, as if trying to memorize the feel of her, the taste of her, before they had to part again. “Damn right we will.”

She rested her forehead against his, her free hand coming up to gently stroke his cheek. “I love ya, you stubborn bastard.”

“Love ya too, Dollface,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, her sitting by his side, caressing his hand and occasionally kissing his calloused, bruised, bloodying knuckles. She whispered reassurances to him, telling him about how Nonna couldn’t wait to meet her great-grandchild, how she’d already started knitting baby clothes even though they didn’t know the gender yet.

Billy listened, a small smile playing on his lips as he let her words wash over him, grounding him in a way that nothing else could. It didn’t matter that he was in chains or that the world outside this room was a mess. All that mattered was that she was here, with him, and that soon enough, they’d have a little shite of their own to look after.

And for now, that was enough.

The hospital room was bathed in the soft, eerie glow of the moonlight streaming through the small window, casting long shadows on the floor. It had been hours since the last nurse had come in, and the clock on the wall ticked quietly, marking the passage of time. Dollface had been biding her time, heart pounding as she listened for the telltale sounds of the guard’s footsteps echoing down the hall.

She’d crafted a plan—risky, sure, but worth it. When one of the officers had stepped out earlier in the evening, she’d quickly slipped into the small utility closet in Billy’s room, holding her breath as she crouched in the dark, hidden among the brooms and cleaning supplies. She waited, every creak of the floorboards outside sending her heart racing, but she stayed quiet, biding her time until the hospital settled into the stillness of night.

Now, as she cautiously cracked open the closet door, her eyes locked onto Billy’s figure, still lying in the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly. She moved silently, her heart in her throat, every nerve on edge as she slipped out of the closet and crossed the room. She knew there were at least two guards outside, but she was banking on the fact that they wouldn’t expect anyone to pull something like this.

Billy stirred slightly as she approached, his eyes fluttering open. The moment he saw her, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “What’re you up to now, Trouble?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

She held a finger to her lips, silently telling him to be quiet as she reached his side. “Couldn’t leave ya all alone in this shithole, could I?” she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath. She slid her hand under the blanket, finding his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Billy’s eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something else, something that made Dollface’s pulse quicken. “Ya know there’s guards right outside, yeah?” he murmured, his voice hushed but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

She smirked, her fingers brushing up along his arm, over the muscles that tensed beneath her touch. “That ever stopped me before?” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath warm against his ear. “Thought ya knew me better than that, Billy.”

His breath hitched slightly as her hand trailed up, slipping under the blanket and higher up his thigh. He shifted slightly, the chains clinking softly, his body instinctively responding to her touch despite the circumstances. “Fuuuckin’ gonna be the death of me, Dollface,” he muttered, though the smirk on his lips told her he didn’t mind one bit.

Dollface chuckled softly, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate journey, teasing him just enough to drive him mad without giving him what he wanted. “Maybe,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his neck. “But at least you’ll go out with a smile on your face, yeah?”

Billy’s eyes closed for a moment, his breath coming in shallow as she continued to tease him, her fingers dancing along his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Always playin’ so damn dangerous—” he warned, though his voice was rougher now, tinged with anticipation.

Dollface pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked down at him. “You know I like to live dangerously,” she replied, her voice low and seductive. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing against his, teasing him further. “Why do you think I married you?”

He growled softly, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. “Damn right ya do” he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Dollface could feel the heat of his body through the thin hospital blanket, the anticipation coiling in her stomach like a spring ready to snap.

She licked her lips, her hand slipping further up his thigh, her touch light and teasing, drawing a low groan from Billy’s throat. “You just gonna lie there all night? Or are ya gonna let your wife make you feel good? What other chance do you have?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath against his lips.

Billy’s eyes flashed with dark desire, his grip tightening on her as he pulled her in, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, hungry kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body. Dollface moaned softly into his mouth, her hand moving higher under the blanket, earning another low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

As they kissed, Dollface could feel the heat between them building, her body responding to him in ways that made her feel alive, reckless, and completely out of control. She broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “You sure you can handle this, Butchie? I swear to god- the officers are right outside, you don’t make a fucking sound, you hear me?” She whispers

Billy smirked against her lips, his voice rough with desire as he replied, “Oh, I’m bloody well countin’ on it, love.”

A smirk spreads across her face, she palms him over the papery fabric of the hospital gown before letting her hand under it, only lingering on his upper thick muscular thigh. His breath trembles, it’s been way too fucking long.

Way too fucking long since he’d felt her nimble, skilled, manicured fingers wrapped around his thick cock, working him up and down til he spurted rope after rope of his warm white seed onto his taught stomach, getting all over her hands.

He missed everything about this, about you. His big clumsy hands would never ever measure up to how your hands feel pumping him up and down. So as her hand made it’s way higher and higher up his thigh, she finally wrapped your fingers around him.

She lets out a chuckle as you feel how fucking hard he is. She’d barely just gotten her fist around it and it was already throbbing desperately, you swipe your thumb over the head of his tip wiping up the small little white bead of precum

She bite your lip, giggling “Someone’s already excited, hm?”

Butcher’s throat makes a tiny little high pitched whine, his breath catching at the teasing swipe of her thumb over his tip. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, muffling himself from making any further noise “Fuuuckin’ christ onna stick, luv—“

He whispers. She chuckles, her other hand reaching up to clasp over his mouth.

She squeezes her fist around his cock tighter now, slowly beginning to flick her wrist up and down. Butcher huffs out a breath, head lolling to the side to look at you as he scrunches his eyes closed. your hand works quicker on his hard, wet cock, urging him closer and closer to his release. you watch as Butch opens his mouth slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he lets out a puff of air while trying to conceal his noises. he looked so pretty like that, sweat gathering on his forehead as he continues to let moans pour from his lips.

He never let it go like this before, he was always in control, something about having him get like this for you got you going.

“mmh, that feel good?” you ask, tilting your head as you stay seated next to him by the bed. he licks his lips, eyes hooded as they slowly open before fluttering back closed as you press your thumb harder against his tip. “come on, answer me, handsome.”

he groans, biting his lower lip so hard it starts to become sore, drawing a little bit of blood. he can taste it in his mouth, making him let out a soft whimper that travels through the air. and he hopes you didn’t hear it, but you definitely did judging by the smirk on your face as you work your hand faster, also basically slapping your palm over his mouth trying to get him to shut the fuck up. as much as you wanted to hear him whimper like that for you again, now was not the time or place. he slightly bucks his hips up, gasping when you flick your wrist and add wonderful pressure to his tip that causes him to become weak in your hands.

“i asked you a question,” you use your other hand that wasn’t on his cock to grip his chin, a stern expression on your face.

he gasps, “yes, fuck yes trouble— feels so .. s-so good.” his voice becomes deeper, trailing away from him the more he talks as his words fade into nothing but muffled moans underneath your palm. he looks so fucking pretty like that, too. his hair was becoming matted, sticking to his forehead as sweat covered him all over. he was glistening, beautiful under the soft moonlight showing through the window.

you tilt your head, your hand clasped over his mouth like that, looking at his lips as he licks them, “Missed my hands, Butchie?” he stutters at the nickname, groaning as he presses his heels into the mattress and thrashes beside you. the cocky look in your eyes makes him whine again. “so desperate for me,” you click your tongue at him.

Butcher swears he’s never felt so damn good before. he wasn’t used to you being so demanding and dominate. it was making him lose his mind, unable to stop the bucking of his hips as he uncontrollably starts basically fucking your hand.

you raise an eyebrow, “wanna fuck my hand, hm? come on, baby.” you kiss his neck, trailing your kisses there before leaving a bruise on his collarbone, smiling at your work. “fuck my hand, since ya can’t have my pussy, fuck it like it is my pussy” She bites her lip tightly, god how she wanted to say fuck all this and hop on top of him, ride him until the sun rose. but that was too complicated, too much of a liability.

he gasps, and his hands tug desperately at the sheets below him, “c-close.. fucking bollocks— I’m gonna blow Doll—” his voice becomes a little more high pitched, but it sends a rush down to your abdomen and makes you clench your thighs together. Butcher doesn’t see it, though. too focused on his needed high.

you tighten your grip on his cock, making him spiral and you watch as his knuckles turn white while he humps up into your grip, “gonna cum, baby? come on, you can cum, Butchie. make a mess all over your pretty tummy and my hand.”

“cumming, i’m.. fucking cumming,” he groans, a long drawn out moan of your name leaving his lips, even if it’s barely heard by the tight grip of your hand over his mouth as he releases all over himself, his hips stuttering and slowing down. you grip him tightly, watching as his cum flows over your hand too. you smile to yourself, seeing his head thrown back and his eyes shut closed. you bring your cum covered hand to your lips, running a finger across your plump red painted lips. he hums, opening his eyes as you take your fingers into your mouth and licking them dry. you lick your lips, leaning in for a kiss. he easily accepts you, one of his hands reaching for the back of your neck and deepening the kiss. you can taste his cum, slightly bitter, but you don’t mind. not for as long as it’s him. the kiss was messy, all over the place, but you loved it anyway.

when you pull away, he’s gasping for air and looking at you with hooded eyes, “i fuckin’ love you sweetheart”

you chuckle, “i love you, too, Butch”

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juniperskye · 9 months ago

Text

Why are you in my head? Pt. 3

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff/Angst - Part 1 Part 2 Part 4** Part 5

Word count: 2583

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, no use of y/n, fem reader, mentions of drugs/sale of drugs/drug use, arguing, mentions of Eddie’s drug addict parents, mention of post-partum depression, mention of child endangerment, mention of child death, mention of murder, mention of suicide, mention of foster care, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story

I miss you so fucking much. How could you think so little of me. I’m sorry. You just don’t understand what it’s like. You don’t even know me. We’re soulmates, of course I know you. Our thoughts weren’t shared until we were both teenagers, you know nothing about how I was brought up. Can I see you? Please.

Thoughts between soulmates were shared more frequently when experiencing high levels of stress, primarily during long periods of separation after meeting, or fighting.

“Hey bug, Eddie’s on the phone for you.” Your dad knocked lightly on your door.

“Tell him I don’t want to talk to him!” You hollered up to your dad.

Since your fight with Eddie, one week ago, your parents had noticed your very apparent, sour mood. You really had no choice but to tell them that you had in fact met your soulmate and had been hanging out with him non-stop. Your mom had been thrilled for you; she had wanted to know everything about Eddie. Your dad on the other hand, he was furious. He clocked the tear tracks that ran down your cheeks the second you walked in the door, and he wanted Eddie’s address so he could kick his ass. You had assured him that it wouldn’t be necessary, that no matter how upset you were in the moment, in your heart you knew the two of you would be able to work things out.

“Sweetie, maybe you should take his call.” Your mom suggested.

“Maybe you should butt out!” You shouted back.

You were immediately filled with regret. Quickly making your way up the stairs you threw open your door to come face to face with your parents.

“Mom, I am so sorry.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her hand gently brushing at the hair on the back of your head. She always did this when you hugged, and it always brought a warm comfort throughout your body.

“It’s okay. I know that you are upset. Maybe you should try talking to him sweetie, it might make you feel better.” She suggested once more.

“Okay, I guess you’re probably right.” You nodded.

“Well, that’s good because he is on his way right now.” Your dad informed you.

“What? Dad! A little warning would be nice! He doesn’t live that far, and I have to get ready!” You started scrambling down the stairs into your room to get ready.

Your parents chuckled, remembering what it was like to be that young and new in love.

A knock at the door had you sprinting up the stairs and practically shoving your dad out of the way so you could get there first. You weren’t quite ready to have Eddie meet your parents, especially since you aren’t currently on the best of terms.

You opened the door with just enough room to slide out of the house. You took note of Eddie’s disheveled appearance, he had bags under his eyes, his hair looked especially frizzy, and his skin didn’t have its usual glow.

“Hey.” He said sheepishly.

“Hi.” You replied.

“Did you uh, did you want to go sit in the van and talk?” Eddie said gesturing to where it was parked at the end of your driveway.

You nodded and the two of you made your way to the vehicle. He wanted so badly to pull you into his arms and kiss all this pain away, but he knew that it wouldn’t be that simple, he had made some snap judgements and said some hurtful things to you. He knew he needed to apologize and that the two of you still had a lot to learn about one another.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I said some awful shit to you, and I shouldn’t have. I just, I am so used to having people judge me. For how I look, for where I live, who I live with, the people I hang out with, the music I listen to, the field of work I’m in. And I know that you weren’t judging me, that you were just looking out for me because you care, but baby I couldn’t help but let those past feelings eat me alive when you were talking to me.” Eddie explained.

“Eddie, I appreciate you apologizing. I’ve had time to think about things too and I can understand how my reaction could have come across as judgmental. Eddie, my dad is a cop, I have heard what happens to people when they’re caught with a little bit of weed in their possession, but if you were caught selling it, or something worse. Eddie I can’t lose you. Not when I have only just found you.” Tears were running down your face at this point.

Eddie scooted closer to you on the bench of the van, he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When you two broke apart, he leaned his forehead against your own, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I am so sorry baby. Please forgive me?”

“Eddie, before I can forgive you, I need to know that you don’t really think of me like that. I may come from a well-off family now, but there is a lot you don’t know about me and I just – I need to know that you don’t see me as some privileged brat.” You begged.

“Sweetheart, no! I don’t think of you that way. I am so sorry! I don’t even know why I said that. It’s like a defense mechanism. I know that there’s so much I don’t know about you, and I hope that you will trust me enough to tell me everything there is to know about you.” He rushed.

You were both startled by a knock on the window. Looking over at the passenger window, you were mortified to see your dad standing there, giving you and Eddie a small wave. He then gestured for you to roll the window down. You visibly cringed as you began cranking the window open, mouthing an embarrassed apology to Eddie.

“Dadddd…what do you want?” You whined.

“Your mother sent me out here to let you know that dinner is ready. She also wanted me to ask if your friend here would be joining us.” He explained.

Your eyes darted over to Eddie. You were trying to decipher his expression, was he as horrified as you were? Was he intrigued by the idea of meeting your parents.? Was he ready to flee and never return?

Would you want me to stay?

You couldn’t help but smile. His thought was timed perfectly, this soulmate thing definitely had its perks.

Of course I want you to stay! I just don’t want them to scare you off.

“If it’s alright with you sir, I’d like to stay for dinner.” Eddie looked at your dad, who replied with a curt nod.

“I can’t believe you’re a Metallica fan! I just finished learning Master of Puppets on my guitar!” Eddie gushed.

“That’s a tough song, I bet you had to practice for weeks!” Your dad indulged Eddie.

This is so embarrassing! Your dad is so cool!

Your mom laughed at the exchange between the two men and she and you cleared the table. She gave you a knowing look and nodded towards your room.

“Why don’t you two go watch a movie, your dad and I can clear the rest of this up.” She suggested.

“Only if you’re sure.” You asked, gaze shifting from your mom to your dad.

“Door stays open.” Your dad pointed towards you.

With that you grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him down to your room, being sure to leave your door open, per your dad’s request. As you descended the stairs, Eddie’s jaw made its way to the floor. He was amazed by your room, you had records hung on the walls and ceiling, one of your walls had an incredible photo collage, with photos of you, your friends and family throughout the years, and below that were stacks of books next to a small desk. He’d have to ask you about who all these people were. You also had a projector screen that you clearly used for movies.

“This is amazing! You read J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephen King? And these records, this is so cool, I would never want to leave if this was my room!” Eddie exclaimed.

God, like you could get any hotter.

“Yeah, my parents are pretty cool about letting me express my creative freedoms or whatever.” You shrugged.

You couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, Eddie had talked about how you got everything you’d ever wanted, and this made that seem true. If only he knew.

Things had continued on pretty well with you and Eddie over the next few months. You guys had grown closer, trusting one another with the heavier secrets of your lives. Eddie had told more in depth about his parents. His mom had gotten hooked on drugs thanks to his dad, who was quick to put hands on Eddie and his mom when he was under the influence – which seemed to be more often than not.

You had wanted to tell Eddie about your past too, but the timing just didn’t seem right. Every time you went to share, something came up, or you were trying to avoid it coming across as you are one-upping him and his trauma.

Things aren’t always what they seem.

Eddie had dinner at your house once a week, and you’d traded off whose house you’d go to after school each day. Nothing physical had transpired between the two of you other than a few heavy make out sessions. At each other’s houses you had fallen into a routine, at yours you would either watch a movie or read, at his you’d either watch a movie, listen to music, or help him with his campaigns.

Tonight happened to be dinner at your house, your parents had suggested ordering a pizza tonight and playing Monopoly. Eddie had enjoyed nights like this, your parents had been extremely welcoming of him. He had appreciated that they didn’t judge him, not once in all the time he has known them. They had been warm and kind and accepting.

Your dad had bonded with him about his taste in music and had shown an interest in Dungeons and Dragons. Your mom talked to him about his future and his dreams of being in a band, but the reality of him probably becoming a mechanic. Your mom had told him that he should pursue music as long as he had something he could fall back on should it not work out. She told him that he could achieve his dreams as long as he worked hard at it.

These conversations, these dinners, these nights with your family had been amazing, they had also been painful for Eddie. He couldn’t help but feel hurt that he didn’t get to have a childhood like this, that he had to get his ass beat by his dad while his mom was strung out on the couch. He hadn’t been removed from their custody until he was about 10 years old, that’s when child services pulled him from their care and moved him in with Wayne.

Wayne had grown fond of you immediately; he had seen how Eddie had changed immediately after meeting you. He had been happier, which meant the world to Wayne. All Wayne had ever wanted was for Eddie to have something good in his life and here you were. You and Wayne were buds and it filled Eddie with a sense of pride that his uncle approved of you.

Now if only things could stay simple like that forever.

Eddie and you had finished dinner and a game of Monopoly at your house. You were planning to go to Eddie’s after to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. After pulling up in front of the trailer, Eddie made his way to your side of the van and pulled you out of the car. You giggled as he kissed you and the two of you stumbled into the living room.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab drinks for you both and he began popping some popcorn.

“Sorry about my parents tonight. I know they can be super lame.” You huffed out a laugh.

“What do you mean? Your parents are great!” Eddie said.

“No, I know, but they act so goofy. It’s embarrassing.” You shook your head.

At least you have parents.

“Jesus Eddie.”

“What? I didn’t…oh shit. Babe I’m sorry. It’s just, you should be thankful that you have parents who care about you. Not all of us are that lucky.”

“I’m not that lucky Eddie! Fuck! How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me!” You sighed.

“Then tell me! Please, enlighten me as to how your two wonderful parents can be so bad!” Eddie egged you on.

“THEY'RE NOT MY PARENTS!” You shouted at him, then took a deep breath. “Eddie, they’re not my real parents.”

Eddie sat a looked at you, mouth agape, speechless. You could tell that he was waiting for you to continue, but you needed a moment to collect your thoughts. You had to explain everything, this conversation could change everything.

“My parents, Eddie, they did some horrible shit. Neither of them had any other family, my mom she uh, she had post-partum depression, she wasn’t doing well, for a long time after my little sister was born. I guess that had caused my dad to seek comfort elsewhere, I was only six when all this happened. But uh, my mom she uh she left my sister in the bath alone, my sister slid down into the water and drowned, she was only 8 weeks old. When my dad came home and found her, he was furious. Eddie he killed my mom, and then he killed himself. I ended up in foster care and bounced from home to home until I was twelve, until they took me in.”

“Sweetheart. I, I am so sorry. I don’t, I’m not sure what to say.” Eddie whispered. “But uh, you said. You had mentioned that your mom told you bedtime stories about how her and your dad met.”

“My mom now, she would tell me how her and my dad met, every night until I finally started sleeping.” You explained.

The nightmares made it impossible. I couldn’t stop seeing the blood.

Eddie crossed the room and pulled you into his arms. He couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid this whole time. You had been silently telling him that your life wasn’t all that perfect, that though now, it seemed good, it hadn’t always been. He needed you to know that he was here for you, no matter what.

I’ve got you. I will always have you baby.

A sob escaped your throat, ripping through the silence. Eddie held you; he laid you with him in his bed, his hand brushing through your hair gently, whispering sweet nothings to you.

I haven’t told anyone that story. Nobody, ever. Not even my parents. Your secret is safe with me. You are safe with me. I love you sweetheart. I love you Eds.

Tag List: @sashaphantomhive

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seokgyuu · 2 years ago

Text

→ GENRE: smut, college au, crack → PAIRING: Seokmin(DK) x Afab!Fem!Reader (Feat. Mingyu x Afab!Fem!Reader, Seuncheol(S.Coups) x Afab!Fem!Reader) → SYNOPSIS: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ WARNINGS: oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!), creampie, degradation (name calling: slut, whore), pet names (baby, princess, darling), loads of dirty talk, extremely toxic behaviour by certain members, posessiveness, Daddy!Cheol, voyeurism, masturbation (m & f), semi-public sex, did i mention dirty talk?

→WORD COUNT: 15k (... i have no explanation)

previous ; masterlist ; next

A/N: Uh... hi! Now, while this didn't take as long as the others, this might be the most chaotic and filthy chapter thus far. I had enormous fun writing this and hope you enjoy it too. As I mentioned before... it's truly filthy. And Cheol is toxic af. But you know, in fiction that's fine!! In real life a no no!

taglist: @ariachavez168, @sandcasltes, @amiga-qmilagraso, @learnthisfeeling, @cersti-mo0, @nixtape-foryou, @minahoeshi, @listxn, @starlight-night0, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @kwonranghaee, @haogyuslut, @a-dramatic-girl, @lovercuff, @grapefruithan, @whyokoa, @lovercheol, @cosmicupoftea, @learnthisfeeling, @knucklesdeepmingi, @wonusworldd, @baldi-2, @seventeencaratworld, @kingalls00, @1-800-jeonwonwoo, @hoeforhao, @p-dwiddle-blog, @tsukimiyuukun, @urfavtallgirl222, @jordand2012, @lcvejordyn, @jeanjacketjesus, @gaebestie, @hara-98-fan, @human-wthout-dreams, @eburneon, @xiusmarshmallow, @spbrax, @speaknowlwt, @lvlyjisung @yogurttea @bitchlessdino @honeykyeom if you're user is crossed out it means I couldn't tag you! please make sure your visibility is turned on! if you want to join the taglist fill out the form or shoot me an ask!

Chan was over the moon, really. He was grabbing a shirt from his closet, since the only fresh out of the dryer one he had given to you. Slipping into a pair of sweats after, he hummed a tune, feeling happier and more relieved than he had in quite some time. Moving out had been stressful, finding this apartment had thankfully taken away a bit of that stress, but the process of getting everything from campus to here – still a task he definitely found hectic and wished to be over soon. During all this, he had gotten help from his friends, Haknyeon and Yohan, who were living in one of the dorms that hadn’t shut down. He had also kind of hoped for his older brother to maybe come and give him a hand, but sadly he had been too busy with his own nearing deadlines and a job he had to keep if he wanted to stay in that nice studio he rented. So, yes, Chan had been stressed and worn out and now he was just worn out but for the best reason he could think of. You. He smiled to himself, closing the door to his closet now and making his way out of his bedroom – only to see you standing next to his couch (god, he loved that couch) holding the family picture his mum had given him once he had moved out and into the dorms.

“Being nosy?” He grinned, his arms wrapping around you, cheek nuzzled against your neck. You would have probably dropped the picture if only you weren’t completely frozen in place. Your brain was working overtime right now, sorting thoughts, trying to remember if he had ever mentioned having a younger brother, if he had ever said something remotely close to having a younger brother.

Maybe this was funny. Maybe this was all hilarious and the best comedy ever produced, and you just didn’t get it. Maybe you should laugh about it and tell Chan that, hey, by the way, the guy next to you in this picture? I fucked him. Twice. Oh, and also sucked his dick. Just, you know, in case this mattered to you, Channie boy!

Instead, you said nothing. You stared at the picture and tried to make sense of it. Because as much as this might be funny for outsiders, to you this was the worst thing that could have possibly happened.

“Y/N?” Chan asked now, parting from you again only to put his hands on your shoulders and turn you around to face him. “Are you okay?”

“Why- who- who is this?” You pointed at the picture. Chan smiled again, his face literally lighting up and for a second you hoped he would say “ah that’s just this guy that happened to be at the photoshoot because my actual brother couldn’t make it and so we hired someone who looks a little bit like him”. He didn’t though.

“Oh, that? That’s my brother, Wonwoo, he’s a few years older than me and I think he goes to your university!”

“Right,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and cleared it after, pulling a hand through your hair as you slightly turned around to put the picture back where it belonged.

“Is everything-,”

“I know him,” you began. There was no point in lying, you figured, or just not telling him, because at one point Wonwoo would come and visit Chan and you would run into both at them by chance and- well, if you had the chance (and the courage that is) to make that situation just a tiny bit less awkward… you’d take it.

“You do?” Chan raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. You nodded.

“Yeah. I joined his e-sports team at the beginning of the semester and-,” you took a deep breath, both of your hands rubbing over your face, “fuck, okay, I’ll just say it. Chan, I swear I had no idea who you were when I- when this happened, alright?”

“You’re beginning to worry me what is-,” he stopped mid sentence, almost as if he suddenly remembered something.

Judging by the way he now took a step back, with his eyes growing in size every passing second, you could very easily guess what he remembered. A part of you told you to feel bad, to have empathy for him, and for a second you contemplated giving in – only to remind yourself the next second that he couldn’t have known, and neither could you; this wasn’t anyone’s fault and instead of dwelling on and regretting this, you perhaps should just move on and act like it never happened.

“Chan?” You carefully said now, surprised at how calm you suddenly felt. Chan, on the other hand, was not calm.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The girl my brother so desperately wants but can’t have?” Your heart broke a little at that. Did he really have to say it this way? You pressed your lips together and, instead of trying to talk yourself out of the situation and his accusation, you simply nodded. Chan groaned, pulling both his hands through his hair.

“This can’t be happening,” he mumbled, starting to pace up and down the living room. How on earth could this be real? Him being so attracted to his new neighbour and wanting nothing more than to finally do exactly what you had just done, only for this new neighbour to be the girl Wonwoo had been pining after and crying about for the last eternity? It was almost laughable.

“Well, it is happening, Chan. But this doesn’t have to be a big deal, he doesn’t have to know.”

“Oh yeah, he can never find out about this!” Chan turned to look at you again. His face was red if from anger or disappointment or any other negative feeling you couldn’t quite say. All you knew was that he was on the same page as you and that would be enough for now.

“Good. Then I’ll get going now.” The man across from you only nodded, still distraught, and went into the kitchen leaving you to collect your clothes from the floor and finally flee the apartment down the hall and to your own.

This had not been your plan. Like ever again. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this familiar place with familiar hands all over you, a way too familiar cock in your mouth. It wasn’t supposed to have you dripping down your thighs, wanting nothing more than for that familiar cock in your mouth to soon fill your needy pussy and fuck you stupid.

And yet, here you were. On your knees in the office of your Friday lecturer’s office, Mingyu in front of you, his big cock down your throat, hips showing no mercy.

“Told you you’d come back crawling, princess,” he smirked, hands holding your head in place as he fucked down your damaged throat, “knew you would miss my cock splitting you open.”

If you had been in any other headspace you would have probably rolled your eyes because you definitely had not missed him - you had plenty other cock to choose from, but Friday lectures after a stressful week filled with avoiding your neighbor and your best friend and… just trying to somehow maintain a normal life when everything was severely fucked up… it had kind of lead to you wanting someone to take your mind off things. And when Mingyu had walked into the classroom, wearing that stupid sleeveless shirt and the stupid tight jeans, there was only one person you wanted to do the job.

So, there you were now. Choking on his perfect huge cock, your hands on his thighs, tears building up in your eyes as you stared up at his face, the cocky grin having you squeeze your thighs together.

“God, I missed how well you take my cock down your throat, Y/N. But I missed your pussy even more.”

Pulling his cock out of your mouth now, he had you lifted up and pressed against one of the many bookshelves seconds later, his mouth on yours, kissing you wildly. His tongue massaging yours as his one hand was on his cock, lining it up with your already bare pussy (he had literally torn your panties off the second you had stepped into the office with him) and the other grabbed your braless tit underneath your shirt.

“O-Oh, Mingyu, f-fuck,” you moaned against his lips when he pushed into you, his lips moving down to your neck, kissing and sucking on your senstive skin and you honestly wondered how on earth you survived all those hickeys you got left and right.

“Yeah, say my name, you fucking whore,” he groaned, bottoming out and kissing you again, even harsher this time. His hips began moving just as ruthless, books literally falling out from the shelf on impact, your moans getting caught by his mouth, his length feeling incredible inside of you, causing your walls to clench, squeeze him. Mingyu couldn’t help his own sounds, feeling too lucky to have you back around him, to feel your perfect pussy, to have your tit underneath his hand, your nipple in between his fingertips. Too many nights had he spent thinking of you, about how you tasted, how you sounded. And now he was back here, back in this office where it had all started.

“Cl-close!” you cried out and Mingyu licked your neck up to your earlobe, biting down on it before bringing his thumb to your clit and beginning to draw circles that made your head fall back and another book slip from the shelf.

“Fuck, are you gonna come this quickly for me? You like my cock that much?” Mingyu knew the answer, the cockiness in his voice still having you wrap your legs around him even tighter.

“Y-yes, I love your cock, f-fucks me so good!” you whined, sure that hearing these words would make Mingyu lose a part of his composure.

“Fuck, baby, yeah, told you no one can fuck you like me,” He couldn’t help himself anymore, his cock throbbing inside of you, twitching with every word you said, every sound you made. He changed the angle a bit, his hips thrusting up, hitting your sweet spot and making stars appear in front of your eyes. Your nails dug into his shoulders, mouth ripped open as more and more moans escaped you, saying his name like a mantra and finally feeling your orgasm hit you.

The waves of pleasure made your pussy almost vibrate, Mingyu biting into your neck as he came too, spurts of hot white cum shooting inside of you, making you feel so wonderfully full. He fucked you through both of your orgasms, perfect rhythm and all - until he stopped and parted from you, cock still buried deep inside. His eyes found yours and the cockiness had changed into something else. You gulped down the regret that already started to form.

“Missed you,” Mingyu then mumbled under his breath, his sweaty bangs falling into his forehead and you bit your lip, hand coming up to move them out of his face.

“Did you?” You asked and he nodded, both hands now resting on the backside of your thighs.

“I did, yeah.”

Nodding slowly, you softly pushed him away, giving him the sign to pull out and drop you back onto the floor. When you landed, you felt your combined releases beginning to spill down and Mingyu was quick to grab some paper towels and wipe them away.

“I thought after our last meeting you would be… well, you know, not my biggest fan.”

“Why? Because you fucked some of my friends? It’s a free world, Y/N, who would I be if I was mad at you for sleeping with people you want to sleep with?” He carefully got all of the cum wiped away, throwing the towels into the bin by the desk. His words had made your heart somewhat leap - this was definitely a different (and more mature) reaction than Seungcheol or Wonwoo had shown you. Clearing your throat, you pulled your dress back down your thighs, thanking him for cleaning you up in a small voice.

“I guess so. I just- I don’t know it’s all a mess,” you sighed and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Mingyu followed you, he himself tucked back into briefs and jeans too. Instead of sitting down, he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, tilting his head as he looked down at you.

“I agree, it is messy. But it’s not your fault. I know Wonwoo said some shitty things to you, Y/N, and he was definitely wrong for saying them. But maybe cut him some slack - he is kind of in love with you after all.”

“He won’t be after he found out who I fucked a week ago,” you replied dryly, making Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up.

“Who did you fuck?” He asked and you sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other.

“His little brother.”

“You fucked Channie?!” Mingyu’s jaw dropped. You laughed bitterly.

“Well, of course you know him, too. How unexpected.” You now also crossed your arms, looking up at Mingyu whose jaw was back in place, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Of course I know Wonwoo’s younger brother, Y/N. He’s one of my closest friends.”

“Do you always fuck the girls your closest friends have feelings for?”

Perhaps that hadn’t been the right thing to say. The smile disappeared again, leaving room for a frown.

“Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t push me away again because you’re scared. Do you really think I don’t know that all of this, all of the fucking around, is because of some sort of challenge you came up with?”

You sucked in a breath, frozen in place. Of all the things he could have said, you wouldn’t have thought this was one of them. For a moment you contemplated whether to deny all of it. That it wasn’t a challenge and you just liked to have sex with 13 different people in 6 months. But looking at him, seeing how he didn’t judge you, wasn’t mad at you, made you feel like you should be honest with him.

“How do you know?” You asked, your eyes never leaving his face. Mingyu shrugged.

“I kind of guessed. I asked around about you, after we met at the coffee shop. Most of the people I talked to said you were more quiet, even a relationship type of girl. At least until two years ago when you and Jiwoo started challenging each other to do stupid shit, approximately around the time a certain someone graduated and left you two with the knowledge he led both of you on. Does that ring a bell?”

You got up from the chair, the sound of it sliding over the floor making you flinch.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it, Y/N. He hurt you. He played you and your best friend. Graduated and then let you both know you were screwing the same guy. And instead of talking about it, you came up with challenges that would make you forget, that would get you to heal this wound he created.” Mingyu put his hands on your waist, eyes staring into yours. There once again wasn’t any judgment, just pure understanding. It scared you, the way he got it all so right.

“I’m guessing the challenge isn’t over yet?” He then continued and you nodded, throat dry and eyes somehow watering.

“No. I still have three more to go.”

Mingyu nodded, hand coming up to cup your chin.

“Then finish your challenge, Y/N. And if you want me, I’ll be waiting.”

Your heart did a leap again and your eyes widened. Did he just-

“Mingyu, I-,” you started, but he interrupted you by leaning down and kissing you. Softly and without any indication for more. He just kissed you. Lips slowly moving against yours, hand caressing your face. You felt your eyes closing, your hands almost automatically moving up to lay on his cheeks and suddenly you were the one indicating more. You pressed yourself against him, the need to be close to him suddenly so strong. He was right with what he said. You had been different back then, before you had been confronted by the man who had almost broken you and your best friend apart because he loved mind games that much. You had wanted to be with him but he had never called you his.

“Y/N…,” Mingyu breathed against your lips now, thumb stroking over your cheek.

“Don’t speak,” you whispered back, closing the small gap once more to kiss him and forget.

Soonyoung was on your apartment floor with several books spread around him. Even though he had wanted to study (after all his extravagant dance school in Europe did not exclude him from the sad reality of a student in South Korea), he had given up about thirty minutes ago, now scrolling on his phone while you were on your couch with your laptop propped on your lap. You hadn’t told him (or anyone) about what had happened with Mingyu yesterday. You also hadn’t returned any of Jiwoo’s calls the past three days, only texting her you were busy and would get back to her after the weekend. Truly, you were sure your best friend suspected something was up, but decided not to pester you about it (yet).

“Should we order some food?” Soonyoung said after a while of silence and you looked up from your screen and at him.

“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

The two of you decided to go with a simple order of pizza, waiting only for around half an hour to now munch away on the delicious treat.

“So, what’s up with you, hm?” Soonyoung asked you, back propped against your coffee table, eyebrows raised. You almost choked on your pizza.

“With me? What do you mean?” You asked, trying your best to sound like your normal self. Soonyoung put his pizza down onto his carton and cleaned them on his black joggers.

“Well, you’ve been staring at your screen for two hours, not getting actual work done. And you’ve barely spoken a word. Also, Jiwoo told me you haven’t really talked to her all week,” Soonyoung looked truly worried, his head slightly tilted to the side. You suppressed a sigh. Of course Jiwoo had talked to him. She had found out about you two becoming close, not exactly jealous but slightly confused as to why you were avoiding her.

“Fine. Maybe something happened,” you pouted, sinking into your couch, laptop now discarded next to you. Soonyoung looked at you expectantly. Clearing your throat, you felt your heats cheek up.

“I might have… slept with Mingyu again.”

“What?!” Soonyoung’s eyes widened.

“And after he might have told me he knows about the challenge and is, uhm, waiting for me.”

Silence. Awkward silence. Soonyoung wasn’t even blinking as he stared at you, his mouth dropped. You weren’t surprised by this reaction in the slightest. Sighing, you threw your hands in the air.

“I know, okay?! I know I shouldn’t have slept with him, but I can’t exactly take it back now.”

“Truthfully I don’t really care about you fucking him again, Y/N, I am more concerned about him waiting for you. Does that mean he likes you?!”

“I guess so? God, I don’t know, Soonyoung. He didn’t… we didn’t talk much after that.”

Soonyoung deadpanned at you.

“Did you fuck again after?”

Instead of answering you took another bite from your pizza. Soonyoung fell to the floor dramatically.

“You are unbelievable, Y/N. I hope you’re aware.”

Oh yes, you definitely were.

Another day passed, and you sat at your living room table eating lunch. You hadn’t talked to Mingyu at all, even though he had texted you. A part of you wanted to forget about what had happened because considering your already confused feelings, this was the last thing you needed. A past fuck-buddy suddenly declaring he would wait for you to finish fucking three other guys. Sighing, you shoved your plate away, wondering if perhaps ignoring Jiwoo had been the wrong thing to do, when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate. It wasn’t a number you had saved and for a second you contemplated just not answering, but did it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss. It’s Lee Seokmin speaking, Choi Seungcheol’s assistant.”

You immediately got up from your chair. What the hell? Why was Seungcheol’s assistant calling you? A strange feeling appeared in your stomach and you tried to shake it off, your hand balling into a fist.

“What do you want?” You finally replied, hoping you didn’t sound too harsh. Seokmin on the other line looked over at the door to Seungcheol’s office, clearing his throat.

“Mr. Choi would like to send you a car to come pick you up and meet him at his office.”

You felt yourself starting to laugh. He wanted to do what? Send you a car? Meet you? Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Does he now? Well, you can tell Mr. Choi that I’m not interested in seeing him. Ever again!”

“Well, Mr. Choi did expect you to say that, Miss. He wanted me to inform you that the job he offered you is still on the table and would earn you 7 Million Won.”

The phone almost dropped out of your hand. 7 Million Won?! Was he out of his goddamn mind?! Anger filled you, anger towards him for thinking he could buy your forgiveness and towards yourself for actually considering the offer. It wasn’t like you desperately needed money, but 7 Million Won wasn’t something to just… turn down. You took a deep breath, contemplating your options.

“When?” You sat down on your couch.

“The car could be there in an hour.” You stood up again.

“An hour?!”

“Yes, Miss. If you’re not sure, we can also arrange a car to pick you up later.”

“N-no. An hour is fine.”

Hanging up the phone shortly after, you wondered how you always found yourself in situations like this. Maybe because you didn’t know how to say no. Or because you liked to suffer. Liked the thrill of getting into scenarios that were completely unpredictable.

Judging by the way you ran into your bedroom, eyes scanning over every item of clothing you owned, this situation had been caused by more than just you loving to do the unpredictable. You, or at least a sick part of you, wanted to see him. Even after that stunt he had pulled, you found yourself thinking of him. Missing him. Even yesterday when you had been with Mingyu a part of your subconscious had wondered if perhaps it should have been Cheol you went to for relief.

The car did show up an hour later. Anxiety spread through you as you walked to the elevator, knowing full well you were wearing sexy underwear under your pencil skirt and low cut, tight fitted, long sleeved shirt. You had dressed to impress and you hated yourself for it. Seungcheol shouldn’t be in your head anymore. You should be over him, should at least try to get over him. Instead you were here in some of your sexiest clothes on the way to see him, the driver nodding at you through the rearview mirror. You smiled with your lips pressed together, your hands tightly clasped together in your lap. Whatever was waiting for you at the office, the only thing you cared about was seeing him, maybe even touching him. Thinking about the last time you saw him, your thighs automatically pressed together. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Wanting a man so obviously immature should be below you! He had taken your call while another woman was sucking him off! He was a child, a stupid, stupid child that did not deserve your infatuation. And yet.

The car stopped in front of one of the taller skyscrapers, the driver opening the door for you. Your breath was stuck in your throat, thanking the man with a small smile and a nod of your head. It was as if you had been ported back to your first date with Seungcheol. Arriving at the hotel, going inside. Seeing him. Just thinking about the elevator ride and what happened after dinner… you shivered as you walked through one of the revolving doors, your heart beating in your ears. Your bag was safely under your arm, and you hoped and prayed you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. Walking further inside, you saw a tall man standing at one of the automatic gates, his eyes glued to the iPad he was holding in one of his big hands. He was wearing a fitted pinstripe suit, a pair of round specs on his well defined sharp nose. His hair was styled upwards, only a few strands falling into his forehead and when you almost reached him, his head lifted and you looked into a pair of sparkling brown eyes that made you almost trip over your own feet.

“You must be Y/N. Welcome. I’m Lee Seokmin. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.” He bowed to you once and you quickly followed, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You too, thanks.” You smiled when you were in an upright position again. Seokmin nodded once before reaching out his arm, leading you to the gate that now opened. Walking through it, you tried to somehow convince yourself that you were not extremely attracted to Seungcheol’s assistant. What was it with you and handsome men these days? Could you ever be around, let’s say, mediocre looking people that did not have your pussy flutter just by looking at them? Jesus.

“Mr. Choi is waiting for you upstairs. Please, after you.” The elevator doors opened and you thanked Seokmin once again, going inside. You watched as he pressed the highest number on the buttons, your eyes widening slightly before looking ahead. Perhaps you were confused about the family business - Jiwoo had never really mentioned what her parents did, nor what Seungcheol was working as. Instead of dwelling on it (maybe it was like Chandler in Friends or Barney in How I Met Your Mother and you just weren’t supposed to know what they did for a living) you waited for the elevator to arrive and finally stepped out when you reached your destination. You were greeted by a grand entryway, luxurious couches on both sides of the room, facing the windows showing the skyline of the city. Flowers stood in crystal vases on the glass tables in front of the couches and there were magazines spread around them. On the far right side stood a small reception where a blonde woman was talking on the phone, bowing her head at you and Seokmin when she spotted you.

“Please follow me.” Seokmin put his hand on the small of your back for just half a second, but you felt the spot burn nonetheless. Pathetic, really. You blew air into your cheeks, trying to get rid of the thoughts swarming your head. You had gotten laid literally less than 36 hours ago!

Seokmin led you through a hallway that eventually ended in big wooden doors he now opened. The light coming in through the window was beautiful. It made the whole room look friendly. There was a light brown, wood desk at the side, right next to the huge window. A chair stood behind and a fancy computer on top of it. Countless documents were stacked neatly next to the monitor and you guessed this was Seokmin’s space. You watched him walk to the other wooden door, knocking two times before opening it.

“Mr. Choi, she is here.”

You heard his voice only muffled. It still made goosebumps erupt all over. Quickly, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second while Seokmin was still distracted. You brought back the phone call with him, the girl he had on his dick while he talked to you. Brought back how you had felt, the anger, the hurt. The crack in your heart for whatever reason. When you opened your eyes again, the nervousness had made room for just the anger you needed.

“You can go inside now.” Seokmin once again bowed his head and you smiled at him, before walking inside the office. The door closed behind you and the air inside the big office suddenly felt incredibly stiff.

There he stood. Suit, but the jacket discarded over the armchair in front of his grand desk. His first few buttons open, suspenders on his broad frame, somehow making him look even sexier than he already was. His hair was styled up, kind of like Seokmin, just a bit more neat. And his eyes were on you the second you had walked inside. His burning, deep brown eyes that almost made you forget all this anger inside of you.

Quickly, you let your eyes wander the room.

“We’re alone.” You said matter of factly and Seungcheol scoffed.

“Who else do you want here?” He asked, taking a few steps further into the room. You now also saw his tight dress pants, the way they hugged his thighs so perfectly. You swallowed, before looking back into his face sternly.

“I thought I was earning 7 million Won today?”

The corners of his lips twitched, a smirk making its way onto them.

“Right. The job. Well, I can’t just hire you without an interview first,” he explained, leaning against one of the armchairs placed on the left side of the room. There were two of them, right across from a couch of the same dark green velvet. You stared at him for a few seconds, the urge to yell at him so strong.

“An interview?” You repeated and he nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and god, how much you wanted to touch him, feel his pecks underneath your fingers, feel the way he breathed.

“Nothing gets handed to you these days, sweetheart.”

The word caught you off guard. Your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You offered me this job, Seungcheol. Pretty sure that inquires no interview needed,” you shook your head, “I didn’t come here for games, if you won’t-”, but you didn’t get any further, because suddenly he was right there in your space, his breath almost hitting your cheek as his hands were firm on your waist. You felt yourself gasp, looking up into his handsome face.

“I can’t do this, Y/N,” his voice was just a whisper, a desperate whisper filled with so many emotions you felt like your head was about to fall off, “I can’t- fuck, I wanted to call you so many times.”

“Yeah? And would there have been a girl sitting on your cock while you did?” You somehow managed to sound venomous, even though you felt your panties stick to you, your pussy throbbing painfully. Cheol groaned, hands wandering to the small of your back and pushing you closer to him. You didn’t stop him even though you knew you should’ve.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was immature. Jealous. Hearing Jiwoo telling me about you and the challenge… I was so mad. I felt used. And then it dawned on me that I wasn’t the first and most definitely not the last and, fuck, the jealousy drove me nearly mad. I wanted to get back at you, wanted to make you feel the way I did, but it was dumb, so, so dumb.”

While he spoke he came closer to you, his lips now pressed against your cheek, his fingers grabbing the fabric of your skirt. You clenched around nothing.

“Y-you took my call with another girl sucking your cock, Seungcheol, what the fuck were you thinking.” Without even really taking notice, your hands moved up, now on his biceps, digging into the dress shirt. He shook his head, lips now on your neck, not kissing you, just letting them glide over your skin, his nose breathing in your intoxicating scent.

“I know, baby, I know I did. Fuck, the truth is I had her waiting there the whole fucking day, hoping you’d call when my sister gave you my card. And when Seokmin told me you were on the line… I swear she was on my cock only as long as you stayed on the line, baby, I swear to you.”

Pathetic. Was what you should’ve been thinking. And a part of you was, a part of you wanted to push him away and tell him he was sick, but the bigger part stayed right there, letting his breath hit your skin, his hands roam, over your back and finally onto your ass, pushing you even closer, making you feel his hard length against you. And now there was no stopping the moan coming out of you. Right then he kissed you, his lips hot and wet on yours, desperation making both of you part your mouths, tongue finding tongue, a dance as crazy as you both felt erupting between them. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up, crashing into the next wall, making one of the (probably very expensive) paintings fall to the floor. Neither of you cared. Instead he kissed you harder, one hand now moving in between your legs, feeling your wet core, making him groan.

“Fuck, baby, so, so wet, so hot for Daddy, aren’t you?” You nodded rapidly, hands on his face, pulling him closer, kissing him again. Teeth and tongue and hotness, your head was filled with nothing but cotton and him.

“Shit, I missed you so much,” he breathed against your lips before continuing, his strong arms now carrying you over to the sideboard where he shoved down whatever was on there, placing you on it and getting rid of your panties immediately. He held them in his hand for a second, before he shoved them into his back pocket.

“God, fuck, pl-please fuck me, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cried out, your hands on his belt and he groaned, nodding the way you did before. He let you open his belt and pants and then proceeded to get out of them, his huge cock springing free a second later when his briefs were down by his ankles as well. You whimpered at the sight.

“Think you can take me, sweetheart?” He asked, hands on your face, kissing down your jaw and you wrapped your legs back around his waist, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you senseless.

“Y-yes, need you to split me open with your huge cock, Daddy, pl-please.” Cheol sloppily kissed your neck, moaning at your words. He loved to hear you beg, loved to hear you call his cock huge, loved to hear you wanting him to fuck you. Quickly, he grabbed the base of his girth, lining it up with your tight cunt, his tip being sucked in immediately by your wet heat. You gasped, hands on his still clothed shoulders. He leaned his forehead against yours as he pushed in further, your cunt apparently still stretched open from Mingyu from the day prior, but you shook the thought off, instead moving your hips to meet him, your pussy taking even more of him now. His groan made your whole body shiver and once he bottomed out, he kissed you again, his tongue in your mouth immediately. It was still desperate, still hot, still crazy. When he did his first thrust your eyes rolled back into your head and the moan escaping you came from deep within.

“Fuck, y-yeah, your tight pussy takes my cock so well, such a good slut for Daddy, just for Daddy,” he murmured, lips sucking on your neck as he continues thrusting, the pain turning into pleasure real quick. You let your hips move with his, head leaned against the wall behind you, the sideboard banging on the floor with every move. Cheol felt like his cock had never been inside a pussy this good. His whole body shook, wanting to paint you white but also to never stop fucking you. Every time your walls clenched around him he felt a little closer to heaven, the sounds you were making more than just music to his ears.

“A-Am close, Daddy!” You cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and Seungcheol grabbed your thighs, changing the angle slightly.

“Are you gonna cum on Daddy’s cock, baby?” He thrusted even harder now and you basically screamed his name, nodding when suddenly you felt his thumb on your clit, stars appearing before your eyes as you felt your orgasm hit you almost out of the blue.

“F-fuck, Daddy, I- oh my god!” The orgasm made all of your vision go blurry and because he hadn’t finished yet he fucked you right into another one, his lips on yours, your arms tired around his neck, but the pleasure still so strong in your veins.

“Did so well for Daddy, such a good girl, gonna make Daddy cum with your perfect pussy,” his voice was shaking with lust and you clenched around him once again, bringing him even closer to the edge.

“P-Please cum inside me, Daddy, want you to breed me, want you to fill me up s-so good, want your cum so bad, a-ah!” It was almost like a spell, your words. Cheol’s orgasm hit him hard, spurts of thick white cum filling your spent pussy just as you hit your second orgasm, whiny moans making Seungcheol’s head spin.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, baby.”

His forehead was back to being pressed against yours, both of you only slowly coming down from your highs.

You felt his sweet kisses before you opened your eyes again. He kissed your cheek and your jaw, kissed your neck and moved up to kiss your lips again. Soft and with so many feelings you were almost sure you’d start crying any second. What had you done? Once again, you had crossed this line, had decided to put your friendship with Jiwoo on the line because what? You wanted some good dick?

Sighing inside of you, you knew that wasn’t true anymore. There was more to this and if you were smart enough, you would try to figure it out before you did anything else with anyone (read as: Mingyu).

“Cheol…” You didn’t know where the nickname came from, but it was now out in the open and when you opened your eyes and looked at him, saw the way his eyes sparkled, you felt your stomach and heart jump.

“Don’t say it, please,” he whispered, his hand softly caressing your cheek and you bit your lip, letting your own hands move up and cup his face.

“I won’t. I don’t have to.” You leaned in to kiss him again, his soft lips made for yours, and your heart was beating rapidly just as much as it was breaking.

Seungcheol had gotten you some paper-towels, helping you clean up and you were now seated on one of the green velvet armchairs, basically twiddling your thumbs waiting for him to come back from wherever he had gone after handing you the towels. You wanted to leave, or at least you thought you did. Leave and use the bathroom and don’t ever turn back.

When the door opened, you stood up, seeing him walk back inside. He looked at you once the door was closed.

“I know what you’re thinking, Y/N. And I respect your feelings, I truly do,” he walked over to you, stopping when he reached you. He was itching to touch you, but he also wanted to give you space.

“But the truth is, you never asked Jiwoo what she’d think about you and me. You just assumed she’d hate the idea.”

“I don’t even know what I think about you and me, Cheol.” You replied, a slight pain shooting through his heart.

“I don’t believe you.” He breathed and you sighed, shaking your head.

“It’s complicated, everything is just so fucking complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Something in his tone made you look up again. There was a certain look in his eyes - a determination you hadn’t seen before. As much as it was hot it was making you nervous, too.

“What do you mean?” You carefully asked, crossing your arms.

“I mean that I took care of it for you. I respect and admire your will to finish the challenge you accepted. As much as I hate to think about you with another man, or in this case, several other men, I don’t want to make you feel as if I don’t respect your wishes.”

He now dared to put his hands on your shoulders, thumb caressing you over your shirt. You stayed silent, mainly because you had absolutely no idea where this was going. He took care of it for you? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“What I am saying is, I found three men you can finish this challenge with. Men I trust, that I know won’t try anything with you after it’s done.”

Your jaw dropped and so did your arms. His words rang in your ears and still needed a while to be processed.

“You- you did what?!” you exhaled and Seungcheol nervously bit his lip.

“Look, I know this is weird, but the sooner you get this over with… the sooner you can tell if you want to be with me.”

You were truly speechless. Seungcheol had found you three men? To sleep with? You had to sit down. The plush armchair was perfect to catch your worn out frame. You shook your head.

“What the fuck? Where did you- what did you? What?” Looking back at him you watched as he now took a seat on the couch across from you. He folded his hands, arms laying over his thighs as he leaned forward, clearing his throat.

“I think it’s the best thing. You get this over with and you’re free from all of your drama, Y/N. Just think about it.”

“And who are these men?” Ignoring his words, you asked the next relevant question. Cheol licked his lips and looked over to the door. Then, with his voice loud and clear:

“Come in!”

You froze in place, watching the door open and two men stepping in. One of them was Seokmin, the other you hadn’t seen before - or you thought you hadn’t. The closer he came, the clearer you recognized him as the guy who had picked you up earlier. Your eyes widened.

“You already know Seokmin and Vernon. They are some of my most trustworthy employees. And I would say they are handsome enough for you to enjoy them. But, of course, it is up to you.”

This was ridiculous. But then, what about your life hadn’t been these days? Pressing your lips together, you looked from the two back to Seungcheol.

“That’s only two,” you stated the obvious. Cheol nodded.

“Well, yes. Jeonghan is still on a business trip. While Seokmin is my assistant and Vernon my personal driver, Jeonghan is my business partner. He has his office on the other side of the floor.”

He had really planned it all, through and through, as if it was one of his projects at work. Getting up, you began pacing back and forth, finally stopping and pointing at Seokmin and Vernon that still stood behind Cheol kind of awkwardly.

“You want me to fuck them?” You asked then, making Cheol clench his jaw. He followed you, also getting up.

“I want you to fuck them once. Once and never again.”

“Still. You would know I did it. Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me? You’re an adult, Y/N, you can sleep with whoever you want.”

“Even your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are my employees.”

“So you’re a pimp now?”

Cheol’s eyebrow twitched.

“Y/N.”

You sigh audibly, throwing your hands in the air.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Seungcheol. This is absurd! You can’t just go and pick who I sleep with!”

“Didn’t Jiwoo do the same?”

“That is totally different and you know it.” You stretched out your index, pointing at him accusingly. He sighed, pulling a hand through his hair.

“I know what you’re thinking. And yeah, maybe this is a bit about controlling who you’re with before you make a definite decision about us. Perhaps this is selfish and wrong of me, fuck, it most definitely is. But I just need you to understand that I am serious about this, about you. I want to be with you, but I also don’t want you to give up your pride. I understand where you’re coming from, and as much as it may bother me I know this isn’t about me. Asking them to do this for me, to sleep with you, it wasn’t easy for me, and you can still say no, I won’t force you into this.”

With every word he said, you found yourself more and more torn. Because, yes, it was indeed selfish and controlling of him. But then again, if you just did this it would be over. You could continue your life and hope to somehow get back to where it was before the semester started. Swallowing down your doubts and anger, you finally breathed out.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I hope you know this is not a certain yes that I want to be with you after the challenge is completed.”

“Yes. I know.” He dared to walk a few steps towards you, his eyes set on yours and, god, why was he so good looking? So pretty and yet so infuriating. You shook your head, not entirely sure what to do with yourself or the situation.

Seokmin and Vernon were still in the room with you and you shifted your gaze from Seungcheol to them.

“And you’re okay with this?” You asked, unsure. The two men nodded and you sighed, letting a hand run through your hair in distress. Great, they were on board at least. How exactly this was going to go though? You had no idea. Looking back at Cheol, you took a deep breath.

“You’re crazy, I hope you’re aware,” you said. Cheol smiled slightly, daring to softly caress your cheek.

“Crazy about you, darling.”

It had been a week. A full week since Seungcheol had told you that little plan of his and you had yet to hear from either of his “employees”. You found it ridiculous, considering you hadn’t even been a fan of the idea in the first place and now they couldn’t even be bothered to call you?

Coming out of your last class that Monday, your mind was already somewhere else (exams, that is) you almost missed the well dressed man leaning against his car outside the building. Only when he called your name, did you look up.

“Seokmin?” You asked, surprise displayed on your face. The handsome man nodded, his jaw a little tightened.

“We need to talk,” he said, opening the door of the passenger seat. You frowned, looking around before finally getting in, your bag safely stored between your legs. He had a nice car. A German brand, you noted. Seokmin got in on the driver’s side, closing his door and finally turning to you.

“So, uhm, what do we need to talk about?” Watching Seokmin, the way his knuckles turned white as he held onto the steering wheel a little too strong. His well fitted black suit strained around his thighs and you swallowed hard, wondering if he had picked you up to do what his boss asked of him.

“Vernon and I told Seungcheol we already slept together.” The words took a few seconds to reach your brain and once they did, your eyes widened and you sat up, one hand finding balance on the seat underneath you.

“You did what?!”

“We are going to the office right now and you need to tell him it’s true.” Seokmin turned to look at you, your mouth hanging open.

“We are… what? You expect me to lie to him?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it, smart girl.”

“Woah, no. I can’t lie to him, he will know I am!

The glint in his eyes made you flinch. While he seemed to be a proper young man, sweet on the outside, something slumbered inside him and you weren’t too keen on finding out what it was. If lying to Cheol made all of this go away - so be it. Perhaps he didn’t know you as well as you thought - perhaps he would buy it and you were free.

“What about the other one? Jeonghan?” You asked as you put your seatbelt on and Seokmin started the car.

“He’s in it too. Obviously he can’t say he had sex with you yet since he’s still on his business trip, but once he is back…” He began to drive off, your nod going unnoticed by him. While he drove, you allowed yourself to check him out a little more. Whilst you were sure that you wanted to avoid the inevitable complications it would bring if you were to sleep with him - it wasn’t like he wasn’t someone you’d consider if the circumstances were any different. He was tall and handsome, with a face shaped like a Greek gods. His black hair was styled upwards, once again only a few strands falling into his forehead. The little mole underneath his eye, right there on his cheek looking so endearing.

He drove the car in silence not mentioning if he saw you staring and you decided that not speaking to him would do you more good than not. Arriving at the office around ten minutes later, he held the door open for you and you thanked him with a nod, your bag back on your shoulder. You followed him inside, the now familiar entrance hall and elevators greeting you in their elegant demeanor just like last time. Just like back then you were extremely nervous, feeling sweat forming on your hands, your teeth continuously gnawing on your bottom lip. Seokmin and you entered the elevator and you tried to calm your beating heart. This was going to be fine. You had lied many times before - maybe not about something like this to someone you had a very… specific… relationship with, but… yeah. You gulped when the doors opened and Seokmin led you to where he had a week ago. Knocking on the door once, he then continued to open it, again letting you go ahead.

Seungcheol was leaning against his desk, hands holding onto its edge. Your eyes met his immediately and your stomach did a flip while the rest of your insides seemed to tighten uncomfortably.

“Very well, we’re all here.” He pushed himself off the table, hands now shoved into the pockets of his tight pants that made his thighs look extremely delicious. Only when you stopped staring at his legs did you register what he said. Your head moved to the side and you saw Vernon sitting on the armchair across from the couch, your eyes widening slightly.

“Seokmin, take a seat next to Vernon, won’t you.” Cheol said, but his eyes were locked on you. His assistant nodded and walked over to the driver, presenting him with a nod before taking his place on the other armchair. The second he was seated, Cheol walked over to you in three big steps, his arm wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer. You gasped at the sudden contact, hands finding Cheol’s chest.

“Tell me, darling, did you fuck them?” His eyes said something you couldn’t grasp and while your throat dried up, your head still somewhat knew how to function and nodded. The man holding you close clicked his tongue.

“Use your words, baby.” His grip around you tightened and you cursed yourself for feeling that right between your legs. Pressing your thighs together, you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I did.”

Seungcheol watched you closely, eyes roaming over your face, your neck and chest. He saw the mark he had left slightly fading and a small smile played on his lips.

“Is that right?” He mumbled, looking at Vernon and Seokmin for only a split second before his attention was back on you.

“Tell me then. Tell me what they did to you.”

The request caught you off guard. Seokmin and Vernon froze in their seats, not daring to look at each other. This had not been part of the plan. Seokmin tried to stay positive - neither he nor Vernon had given Seungcheol any details of your presumed nights together which meant you had full creative control. But then again, Seokmin thought, would he be okay listening to you sharing a story about how he fucked you? He shifted on his seat, his poker face staying even with his dick uncomfortably twitching inside his briefs.

Now, you looked over at the two men, not able to read anything in their blank faces. Fine, this was up to you then. Clearing your throat again, you looked back at Cheol.

“You sure?” You wanted to know. Seungcheol nodded, his arm still tightly wrapped around you.

“Fine,” you dropped your bag onto the floor, “Seokmin fucked me in the back of his car. Right about a day after your little presentation. He didn’t wait long, just pulled me onto the backseat, fingered me open for him and then took me from behind until he came.”

You were impressed with yourself, your voice didn’t go up higher, nor did you stop looking at him during any time of your little speech. Seungcheol’s face was unreadable.

“Did he make you cum?” He asked then. You shook your head.

“He watched as I finished myself off.”

Wherever that confidence came from - you weren’t sure. You didn’t notice the way Seokmin’s eyes narrowed or how he crossed his legs, didn’t notice how angry splashes of red appeared on his neck. He had watched you getting yourself off? Please, if anything he’d make you cum with his fingers, cock and mouth. He would never just come and then leave you to finish the job yourself. Still, he remained calm, leaning back in the chair and ignoring the images of you on the backseat of his car, of his cock repeatedly thrusting into you.

“Vernon?” Cheol continued then.

“It was in my apartment three days ago. I invited him over and we had dinner. We both wanted to get it over with, but also to have it be pleasurable nonetheless. So, we started making out and I eventually rode his cock till he came.”

Vernon felt his blood rush down south at that thought. Little did you or anyone else in this room know how far this was from anything that had happened to him in real life.

“Did he make you cum, baby?” Cheol asked, one hand now cupping your face. You shook your head.

“No. I finished myself off when he was gone.”

While it did hurt his pride a little bit, Vernon understood what you were doing. He still couldn’t help himself imagining what you’d look like with your fingers pounding into your cunt.

For a few seconds Cheol was quiet. Then, he chuckled lowly. Your heart dropped. Shit. He parted from you, cracking his neck once, twice, before looking over at his two employees, slash, friends.

“So, you two can’t even do this one thing for me?” He asked calmly, and Vernon and Seokmin got up, ready to defend themselves, when Seungcheol shook his head, holding up one of his big hands.

“Perhaps,” he began, “Perhaps, I need to show you what you missed out on.”

Your ears perked up at that, heat rising inside of you, gaze on Seungcheol’s back. Show them what they missed out on? When he turned around, his eyes full of fire, you felt yourself gasp. He had pulled you close again, his chest pressed against yours, head leaned forward, lips right by your ear.

“Liars get punished, baby,” he whispered, “should I fuck you right here in front of them? Give them a show?”

The small groan coming out of your mouth gave you away. Seungcheol kissed you then, hot and demanding, his tongue thrusting into your mouth from the get go. He let his hands roam over your body, shoving up your shirt and groping your tits, having you moan into his mouth as he finally picked you up and laid you down onto the couch, right into Seokmin and Vernon’s view.

“S-Sir, we- we can g-go,” Vernon stuttered, eyes glued to the way your shirt had risen up, showing your stomach and a little bit of your underboob and, god, Vernon was already hard.

“If you want to, go. But I doubt either of you wants to miss this, isn’t that right, darling?” Cheol smirked down at you, your face hot and your pussy throbbing for him already.

“Sit down and enjoy the show because I fear this is the closest you will get to this pussy, boys.”

Vernon plopped back down onto the armchair then, his mouth already hanging low while Seokmin was torn. A part of him wanted to stay, wanted to see you get railed, wanted to save the pictures for later when he was alone, imagining it was him instead of Seungcheol fucking you. Another part wanted to leave though. He definitely didn’t want to be part of Cheol’s sick game. He already did everything for that jerk, why the hell should he comply even now?

But the second he heard your moan, Seokmin found himself sitting back down. The sound went straight to his cock and he crossed his legs like he had before, trying to ignore how tight his pants were growing.

Cheol had moved between your legs, hands gripping your bare thighs, silently thanking you for wearing that skirt today. He pressed kisses onto your flesh, biting into it after, making you moan. Hands found your panties, pulling them down and inhaling your scent just then, licking his lips.

Dashing forward, he sunk his tongue into your folds, fingers still digging into your skin. Seeing red, you let your hands move to his head, nails almost hurting his scalp. You moaned out loud when his lips closed around your clit and a finger found its way into your tight heat.

“Tastes so fucking good,” Cheol mumbled loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “bet you regret not being able to taste her pussy, isn’t that right?” He sucked your clit into his mouth again, tongue flicking against it in a fast rhythm and you arched your back, crying out his name. Cheol was wonderful with his mouth and fingers, maybe even deserved a medal for the way he coordinated his finger and tongue, how he licked into your hole and up your folds, how he devoured your bud as if it was a delicacy in a 5 star restaurant.

“Hear how wet she is? My little slut likes being watched, doesn’t she?” Cheol moved forward now, pressing two fingers into you and pumping them in and out at a fast pace. You gasped, hands on his biceps, holding on for dear life.

“D-Daddy!” you cried out and Cheol smirked, looking over at Seokmin and Vernon who were both staring at you.

“That’s right, cry out for me, baby.” He picked up the pace, licking his lips before he dipped down, kissing you again, more tongue and teeth than anything else. Your hips were chasing his movements, fingers digging into his muscular arms.

“Holy.” Vernon swallowed, his hand pressing down onto his crotch to get some kind of friction. His mind was racing, everything kind of a blur while his cock was getting harder with every second. Seokmin, meanwhile, was sitting quietly on his chair, eyes locked on you. He thrived on the way you arched your body, the way your face was pulled into a grimace, your mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t even try to control the erection in his pants, knowing well enough it was only going to get worse.

“Should I show them your pussy, baby? Do you want them to see how wet you are?” Seungcheol pulled his fingers out of you, your juices so visible on them for everyone to see. Vernon whimpered at the sight, while Seokmin stayed put. Your chest was heaving, watching how Cheol moved up again, letting his fingers sink into your mouth. You sucked them in, tongue swirling around them as if they were his cock. Cheol felt his dick twitch and he licked his lips, your taste forever the sweetest he had ever tasted.

He then moved you, having both your legs hang off the couch, spreading them for Seokmin and Vernon to see, both of them holding their breaths as they saw your needy cunt, the way you were dripping, your eyes wide and so full of lust Vernon couldn’t help but reach into his pants, palming himself over his boxers, eyes glued to your glistening folds.

“Look at that, looks like Vernon likes your pussy, baby. Bet he wishes he could be the one to do this, hm?” Cheol let three fingers push into you now, the stretch making you cry out in pleasure, holding onto the edge of the couch as your head fell backwards. The sounds it made, the way his fingers reached you right where you needed him to, pushed into that spot over and over again, your walls clenching around him more often than not.

“Yeah, look at how well that pretty pussy takes my fingers, such a good girl for Daddy,” Cheol mumbled more to himself than anyone else, even though he was still aware of the two other men in the room. He loved watching you come undone, loved the way you moaned, cried, whimpered - every sound you made was like music to him. A symphony he could never grow tired of.

“D-Daddy, pl-please!” Your eyes were rolling back, your hips lifting off the couch, about to reach your high, stomach tightening - when Cheol pulled his fingers out and instead slapped down onto your clit having your body jerk and tears building up behind your eyes.

“I told you, liars need to be punished.” Without any warning, he grabbed your hips again, having you on all fours on the couch, his cock freed from his pants, pumping it once, twice, before slapping his free hand onto your asscheek. You moaned, almost losing balance and your eyes flew to the side when you heard Vernon moan again. His hand was inside his boxers now, jerking off without any control, hand flying up his cock in rapid movements. Seokmin was still not moving. Your eyes stayed on him even when Cheol rammed into you, his one hand on your hip, the other around your neck.

The eye contact made Seokmin question his sanity even more. Why the fuck would you look at him right now, why would you not close your eyes and enjoy Seungcheol fucking you? The moans that erupted your whole body as Seungcheol began thrusting made Seokmin almost come untouched. He balled his hands to fists, ignoring the urge to touch himself. You were still looking at him, your hair falling into your face as Seungcheol pulled you up, hand fully wrapped around your neck as he fucked into you hard and quick.

“Tell them how good I fuck you, baby.” Cheol groaned when you clenched around his length and you whimpered, eyes rolling back for a second.

“Y-you fuck me so good, Daddy.” Your voice was shaking with lust and pent up frustration and Seokmin felt himself twitch again, felt how close he was to release without even doing anything. Pathetic.

“That’s right. My little slut wants me to fill her up, isn’t that right? Wants her pussy full of cum.” His thrusts got faster as he spoke and you could only nod, eyes back to their original position - looking right at Seokmin. You couldn’t really say why you felt the need to look at him, maybe because you wanted to challenge him, make him touch himself. It reminded you of the time Seungkwan had watched you and Wonwoo in the library and how he had needed encouragement to touch himself. Right now you felt like there was more behind Seokmin’s actions, though. He knew he could touch himself, after all Vernon was going on himself like a horny teenager, but Seokmin didn’t want to. He wanted to prove a point. And you wanted to break him. You let another moan out, your hands moving to shove up your shirt, showing both of them your tits for the very first time, your hands massaging them harshly, thumb and index pinching your nipple. Cheol noticed, groaning as he changed the angle one more time, kneeling down with you on his lap, fucking up into you now.

“Putting on a show, aren’t you? Such a little whore, fuck.” Cheol took over your own task, massaging your tits as he fucked into you and you let your fingers spread your pussy, circling your clit as you let your head fall back, hips bouncing off Cheol’s lap now. Your cunt pulsated around him, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every single thrust and you were sure you were about to come.

“D-Daddy, a-am so close, c-can I please come?”

“You think you deserve to cum?” Cheol let out an evil chuckle, before pushing you off of him, his cock slipping out of your pussy, your orgasm once again denied. You almost fell of the couch, but Cheol caught you, turning you back around to face him. Then he pushed your head down, his cock slipping between your lips easily, a surprised gasp erupting you the same time as his cock slid down your throat.

“Told you already, liars get punished. That’s why those two aren’t allowed to touch you and you,” he thrusted up, a cough jerking your whole body and drool ran down Seungcheol’s shaft, “you don’t get to come on my cock or my fingers. Now, take Daddy’s cum like the good whore you are.”

He began to fuck your throat to the fullest now, tip being the only thing left in your mouth before he rammed his hips forward, repeating this motion until tears streamed down your face, your pussy throbbing from all the need and neglect, his cock finally pulling out of you - only to have his hot and thick cum land all over your face and neck, his moans of your name only making you needier. Cheol fell back into the cushions, his cock still in his hand.

“Good girl, such a good girl. Common, show us how good you can make yourself come, isn’t that what you did in your stories, too?”

Your eyes widened, realizing that you did this to yourself. Your head was cloudy, only thing on your mind was to release and so you didn’t wait any longer, leaning back on the couch, back hitting the armrest as you spread your legs, letting two fingers slip into you, while the other hand was squeezing your tit, back arching as your hips chased that sweet orgasm you earned for.

“Fuck, look at you. Such a good whore, so, so needy.” Cheol lazily stroked his softening cock, enjoying the view of you with his cum all over you, fucking yourself with your fingers.

Vernon, meanwhile, had finished into his boxers approximately around the same time as Cheol had shot his load onto your face. Now, he kind of regretted it. Seeing you like this, the way you fucked yourself, the way you whimpered, cried, tears mixing with the cum on your face, both dripping down your chin and onto your chest… he just continued jerking his cock, wondering if he could just come again.

And then there was Seokmin, still seated the same way as when this had begun, just that there was a very obvious bulge in his pants, hurting from how hard he was. He tried to steady his breathing, but he knew the second you started fucking yourself it was over for him. He was right.

Once you reached your high, the orgasm rushed over you with so much force you sobbed loudly, liquid shooting out of you as you rode out your orgasm on your fingers, whimpers and sobs continuing to fill the air. Seokmin moved, just slightly, and his cock came in contact with his pants, just a tiny bit of fraction. He moved and he came untouched, ropes of white filling his briefs as he felt his fingers dig into the armrest of his chair, his cock twitching over and over in his pants, his breath heavy.

“Good job, baby, did so well for Daddy.” Cheol was quick to pull you up, wipe away the cum and tears from your cheeks to instead feed them to you, your lips sucking on his digits with exhaustion.

“Oh fuck-,” Vernon’s eyes rolled back as another orgasm hit him, just a bit of cum shooting out his worn out cock and he fucked up into his fist three times before sinking into his chair, completely spent.

Cheol got you tissues, cleaning you up with care while Vernon had excused himself to the bathroom. Seokmin still hadn’t moved.

“This was okay, right?” Cheol whispered to you when you stood up, your clothes all back in place. You nodded, patting his cheek.

“Yeah. I like myself some good old voyeurism, Cheol,” you smiled, your tired bones yelling at you to go home.

“Do you still want me to fuck them?” You asked then and Cheol laughed, caressing the back of your head.

“Now, it is them who will want to fuck you, baby.”

Seokmin felt their eyes on him then, felt the way red crept onto his cheeks. He was wearing black, so maybe if he got up it wouldn’t be visible that he literally came without touching himself. Slowly, he raised from his chair, and watched how Cheol and your gazes wandered right to where he hoped they wouldn’t. While you felt your exhausted pussy clench, Seungcheol smirked cockily.

“Now, won’t you look at that? Our little Seokminnie came untouched. How cute.”

The words hit Seokmin deeper than they probably needed to. Clenching his jaw, Seokmin walked past you and Seungcheol, opening and slamming the door behind him to go to the bathroom and hopefully manage to clean himself up. How convenient he always had another suit hanging in the closet.

It had been five days. Five days that Seokmin had to live with his boss giving him that look. It’s like Seungcheol knew exactly how to get Seokmin to doubt himself. And perhaps that was true considering they had known each other since college. Seungcheol the big business major who then went abroad and Seokmin who was doing well and still somehow ended up being Seungcheol’s assistant. It wasn’t a bad job, more so the opposite. Or at least it had been for the longest time. Now, Seokmin wasn’t so sure. Was this still a good job he liked going to when all he could think about was you and how you looked spread open on that couch he had sat on countless of times before? All of that combined with Seungcheol’s knowing grin and the unspoken words that somehow still echoed in Seokmin’s mind whenever his superior walked by.

Every night since then Seokmin had laid in his bed with his cock fucking his fist, thinking about you. It was dirty and wrong and bad and yet he still did it. Did it every time his back hit his mattress. The images of you were burned into his brain and there was nothing he could do but hope it would be over sooner rather than later.

Work was fine, apart from that. He had a whole lot to do and was able to distract himself by going to meetings, driving across town to check up on the factory, by going to lunch with partners and finally by finishing reports that were actually Seungcheol’s job. Normally this was alright with him, Seokmin didn’t mind doing Seungcheol’s work, knowing exactly how busy he was. But today, five days after he had seen you split open by him, Seok felt very differently.

“I have this phone meeting now, don’t I?” Cheol came to a halt in front of Seokmin’s desk, holding a Starbucks coffee in his hand. Seokmin nodded.

“Yup.” He didn’t look up at his boss, instead continued to eye whatever was on his screen. Cheol snorted.

“You really gonna be like this, Seok? Common, it happened to all of us before. Coming in our pants, I mean,” the condescending smirk was back on his lips, “you know, when we’re teens.” While Seungcheol laughed at his own idiotic joke, Seokmin stayed quiet, ignoring him. Eventually the older man left to walk into his office and Seokmin was left alone again.

Looking at the bottom right of his screen he saw that Seungcheol entered said phone meeting and sighed in relief, leaning back in his chair. Seungcheol was going to be occupied for the next 45 minutes and that was really all he needed. Just a few minutes without fearing his boss to walk about and make him feel small. God, how badly he wanted to get back at him. But he hadn’t dared to call you, too embarrassed about what had happened. His thoughts wandered back to you, to the way you had held steady eye contact while Cheol had fucked you. He wondered why. Why you had done that, why you had chosen to look at him. Taking a deep breath, the assistant shook his head, about to go back to work, when he heard the wooden door opening, his head quickly moving to the side. There wasn’t anyone on the agenda for this time, not even for the spot in an hour so who-

You walked in just then, a white babydoll dress on your body, and Seokmin stood up, unsure what to make of your sudden appearance. Your pink painted lips turned into a smile.

“Hi.” Seokmin swallowed.

“Hello, Miss.”

You two stayed silent for a bit, before Seokmin cleared his throat and sat back down.

“How may I help you? I fear Mr. Choi is in a meeting right now.”

“I actually came to see you.”

Seokmin froze in his spot, feeling his hands cramp and his brain come up with the craziest scenarios.

“Why?” He only managed to reply, still not looking at you.

“Well, I wanted to ask you for coffee. I know Cheol is in a meeting. He told me earlier. And I thought we could… talk.”

Talk. Seokmin swallowed down the apple-sized lump in his throat. Talk. Did you really think he could talk to you? After what he had seen? After what you had done to him? He tried to calm himself by taking another breath.

“You want to talk? About what?” He was proud of himself for having his voice appear collected when he was anything but.

You shifted on your feet, your little purse hanging from both of your hands in front of your body.

“Uh, I don’t know. Just talk. I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot and-,” Seokmin stood up again, his chair making a rather unpleasant noise as it slid over the floor. You flinched, eyes widening.

“Got off on the wrong foot?” Seokmin walked around his table and stopped when he reached you. Now, he towered over you, making you feel small.

“Y/N, I needn’t remind you that we were never supposed to get off on any foot. Because of your lifestyle it just so happened my boss thought we should meet.”

You frowned. Your lifestyle?

“Excuse me?” Crossing your arms, you stared at Seokmin who stared right back. He tried to ignore the strong urge to look at your cleavage, to remember how they looked all naked and squeezed by your hand.

“I don’t want to grab coffee with you. Nor do I want to talk to you. About anything.”

“Really? Is that why you came untouched watching me pleasure myself?”

Your back slammed against the wall, the air leaving your lungs as Seokmin had you pinned against the concrete behind you.

“Say that again.” His voice was low and his arm on you made your knees weak.

Perhaps, if you were honest, you had kind of hoped this would happen. It was stupid, really, stupid and making everything even more complicated, but you had been thinking about him a lot. Even when you had let Mingyu into your bed again two days ago, Seokmin had been right there, Seokmin and the way he had cum without you even doing anything directly to him. Seokmin and his thighs. Seokmin and how he would taste on your tongue. It was haunting you and you just really needed to get him out of your system. You had thought that maybe you could get him to drive you home, asking him to come upstairs. Apparently, though, you didn’t even have to think that far.

“Did you enjoy it? Watching Seungcheol fuck me? Watching me finger myself?”

Seokmin groaned, his hand moving to your throat, making you moan and, fuck, his ears began ringing. Without giving it any more thought, he pressed his lips onto yours, almost ready to have you reject him, but instead he felt your hands grab onto his collar, your purse falling onto the floor. Immediately, he deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding over your lips and you gladly let him enter. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, his tongue guiding yours and making butterflies erupt in your stomach. He then pushed one of his delicious thighs between your legs, having you gasp into his mouth when you felt him flex against your core. It felt like an instinct, the way you began rutting your cunt against his leg, his low moan filling the heavy air.

“You like getting off on my thigh, baby?” He whispered against your lips and you nodded rapidly, a whimper coming out of your mouth when he pressed himself closer against you, his thigh now moving with your hips. His lips attached to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin and you let your hands wander off to the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin, leaving small crescent moons right there.

The stimulation from his thigh was immense, almost too much, considering how much you had fantasized about them. Your head banged against the wall behind you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to minimize your sounds. Seokmin continued kissing your neck, hand now moving to squeeze your tit over your dress, noticing right away you went braless.

“Look so fucking pretty in that dress, shit.” He kissed you on the mouth again, grabbing your face with the hand that had previously been around your throat. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his thumb press down on your stiff nipple. For a while you just made out like that, just kissing as if your life depended on it and somehow both of you felt like that was the case. Then, when both of you heard Seungcheol’s laugh through the wooden door, Seokmin parted from you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen. Without hesitating, he picked you up from the floor and moved to his desk, his lips back on yours, biting down on your bottom lip and making you cry out. Placing you on his desk, he continued to let his hands roam over your thighs, right hand finally touching your needy core.

“All for me?” He mumbled against your ear and you nodded again, hands on his cheeks, guiding him back to your lips. You felt like you could get drunk on his kisses. Seokmin leaned in harder, while his fingers slipped underneath your panties, touching your soaked folds and moving down to press down on your sensitive clit. You moaned again, your eyelids fluttering as you felt him circle your clit, your hips almost automatically starting to move. Seokmin smirked against your lips before he continued to kiss you, his tongue finding yours right away, nothing seeming more important than kissing you. Only when he felt your hips shake, he decided to pull your panties off your legs, your ass lifting off from the desk for a second, your panties soon on the floor. Seokmin licked his lips before he finally sunk a finger into you, your face showing nothing but pleasure. He grinned confidently.

“Is this what you actually came for, baby?” He asked then and you nodded, sucking his finger right up your needy pussy. Seokmin groans quietly.

“Yeah? Naughty girl, aren’t you?” His lips found your jaw, moving down to your neck again and you quickly opened the zipper off your dress, having it fall off your shoulders in no time. Seokmin sucked in a breath, eyes glued to your tits.

“Touch me, Seokmin.” Your breathy voice made his cock twitch and he moved quickly, hand now squeezing your tit while the other added another finger, pumping in and out of you at quick speed now. Your eyes rolled back and Seokmin knew you were trying to stay quiet. He chuckled.

“Let it out, baby. Let him know.” And while in theory that sounded extremely hot, you weren’t sure how Cheol would take this - you fucking his assistant right outside his door. Still, you let out a louder moan when his fingers hit your sweet spot, the squishy part of you making Seokmin bite into your shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean, while your hands moved to open his pants, belt first, then zipper and button. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on his cock, to have him in your hand and to finally have him pound into you. Finally, when his pants landed on the floor and you saw the prominent outline of his cock behind his gray briefs, the moan escaping you now could have surely been heard by the man behind the wooden door. Seokmin moved quickly, one hand moving to your neck, lips chasing yours as his other hand grabbed his shaft, your legs wrapping around him as he finally sunk into you one inch at a time.

“O-Oh, Seokmin!” You cried out and he cried back, forehead resting against yours. Only when he bottomed out, all of him safely pushed inside, did he move his head, his lips now right by your ear.

“I’ll fuck you better than he ever could, baby. Make you cum harder than he ever will.” His words make you clench around him, your head dropping back as he began fucking you, the desk making noises that neither of you believed could stay unnoticed. His hands gripped your hips as he continued to fuck into you, your mouth hanging wide open, hands holding onto the edges of the table, his dick so good there were stars around your head.

“God, look at you. Gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

He picked up his pace, moving forward and raising one arm to move some of his documents to the side, having you lay down flat on the desk, your head hanging over the edge now. You looked absolute angelic and perfect, he couldn’t help but twitch. Your cunt kept on clenching around him, almost as if she never wanted to let him go again and, fuck, if anything Seokmin felt just the same. His hands dug deeper into your skin, his grunts having you arch your back and when he pressed two of his fingers against your clit, circling it like he had done before, you couldn’t help the cry that escaped you, your legs spasming around him as you felt your orgasm rush over you. Seokmin felt you throb around him, felt the waves of pleasure that erupted you and he moved quicker now, eyes focused on the way your tits bounced with every one of his thrusts. He knew he was close, fucking you through your orgasm and continuing to rub your clit, your pussy spent but still asking for more.

“S-Seokmin, do-don’t stop!” You almost screamed, your voice full of need and Seokmin’s head felt like it was about to explode.

“Yeah, take it like the good whore you are, fuck!” He leaned forward now, hand now behind your head to steady it as he kisses you hungrily, his hips still rutting against yours, getting that second orgasm out of you just as he feels his own approach.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He mumbled with your tongue on his lips, your cry finally getting him over the edge, hot white spurs of his pleasure painting your walls as he fucked you and now him as well through your orgasms, the desk hitting the floor repeatedly at this point, the sound obnoxious and so obvious.

Obvious and obnoxious to the person behind the wooden door who had recognized your first moan and hadn’t been able to concentrate on the meeting ever since. How fucking dare you, he thought, fucking Seokmin right outside his door. Seungcheol had wanted to go out there and drag you in here, finish the job he knew he was the best at. He didn’t though. He knew how you felt about your challenge and as much as he hated it - he wanted to respect you. So, now there he sat. His cock hard hearing your noises, knowing exactly what you looked like when you made them, with three old dudes on the phone talking about whatever. He had muted himself at some point when the desk outside began rutting against the floor too loudly. He made a mental note to get these nailed to the floor.

Seungcheol also recognized your cry as you came, his cock twitching uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and pulling a hand through his hair. Thankfully, about fifteen minutes later, the meeting was cut short because one of the partners had an emergency and so Seungcheol said his goodbyes and left the call, immediately jumping up from his chair to hurry over to the door, opening it swiftly.

There you were, seated on the edge of the desk Seungcheol knew Seokmin had just fucked you on. You turned around to look at him, jumping from the desk with an innocent smile on your face. Seokmin had stood in front of you. He had kissed you. Seungcheol had caught you kissing Seokmin. His hand was about to cramp, that’s how hard he balled it.

“Y/N.” Cheol said sternly and your eyebrows shot up.

“Seungcheol I-,”

“I am taking you home. Seokmin, I need you to cancel all my meetings for the day.”

He didn’t give either of you a chance, instead he grabbed you by the wrist and basically dragged you out and to the elevators. The atmosphere was cold and you knew that it was most probably because of what he had heard. You bit your lip, glad you had thought about grabbing your purse after you and Seokmin had parted and he had gotten you some towels from the bathroom.

The kiss after… it hadn’t really been planned. But once he had helped you clean up, his cum dripping down your legs and all… his face had been so close and then, suddenly, you were making out again. Not with any intention, you both were worn out, but just because you could.

“Cheolie…” You pouted up at him, but Cheol ignored you, instead taking his car key out of his pocket and continuing to drag you along when you reached the garage.

He placed you on the passenger seat and then moved to the driver’s seat. The drive was silent. Cheol didn’t say a word and you felt like you should probably give him the space he needed right now.

When he finally parked at your apartment complex, he also finally looked at you.

“You kissed him.” He said. You were confused.

“That’s normally what happens during sex, yes.”

“No. After. When I came out. You kissed him.”

You blinked at him a few times. Then, you grinned.

“Choi Seungcheol, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I am. Extremely. I told you I want you to finish your challenge, I even picked the guys for you, Y/N.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you kissed him after. Like you kiss me.”

Your heart clenched inside your chest. Quickly, you undid your seatbelt and instead leaned forward, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Cheolie…” You pouted again, but he averted his gaze, his cheeks slightly red. You let your teeth sink into your lip.

“Daddy…” The whisper made Cheol look up. He was still semi-hard.

That’s how you found yourself with his cock down your throat and him fucking up into your tight heat. As it seemed neither of you could have an adult conversation without a certain situation being in the way.

“God yeah, no one takes my cock like you, fuck.” His head was leaned back against the headrest, his mouth hanging wide open as he used your throat to get off, to forget.

“You want only my cock, I know you do, want only me to fill you up, want only my cum to breed you, my little whore.”

He mostly spoke to himself, almost like a pep-talk and you gladly let him, your tongue swirling around him as you hollowed out your cheeks.

A knock on the window made him still inside your mouth.

“Oppa?!” The voice was muffled through the glass.

Jiwoo’s eyes were as wide as could get, but somehow grew even wider when she made eye-contact with her best friend who was currently getting throat fucked by Jiwoo’s older brother.

header credit: @playmetheclassics

#svthub #svt smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #dokyeom x reader #mingyu smut #scoups smut #seokmin x reader #svt x reader #ot13 #seventeen smut #challenge ma au #mingyu x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #svt fanfiction #seventeen fanfiction

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kakujis · 1 year ago

Note

PIBBY OMG OK

Bookshop AU with Yone

You working in a bookstore is so magical to him. He starts coming in with his laptop and headphones to work on his music stuff but he keeps sneaking glances at you while you're rearranging the books on the shelves. He'll even talk to you about your favourite books occasionally

THROW IN SECRET ADMIRER omg he gifts you books he thinks you'll like but won't tell you they're from him so you'll be talking to him about this admirer and he's internally screaming bc IT'S HIM

hi wallaby!! i'm finally writing this cus i'm soooo enamored w him... but u are so right. this au is so cute. i can't believe i just wrote this in one sitting LOL, i'm going to lose it!!!!!!

wc: 684

warnings: gn!reader, mutual pining, mutual shyness. fluff. not proofread. reminder i'm an 18+ blog, likes and rbs are fine, but don't follow if under 18.♡ :>

yone loves a routine. but more importantly, he loves it away from heartsteel. don't get him wrong, he enjoys his bandmates, chaos and all, but sometimes he just needs a quiet place to work. imagine his delight when he stumbles across your bookstore, a quaint place tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

you are ever-present, ever comforting, and always there to lend an ear when he asks, "hey, sorry to bother, but do you think this sample is alright?" he notes your expressions, scrutinizing each piece to make sure you have something meaningful to say.

in return, he'll ask you about your favorite books, your recommendations and if you're working on anything yourself. it's an exchange of creativity that he craves, even in the early hours of the morning when you've just opened up shop and the sun is peeking slightly over the horizon.

the first time you pad over, holding a new book in hand, expression puzzled, he can't stop the light flutter of his heart, it's wings beating like a butterfly searching for a drink.

"look at this new book i got," you chime, handing him over the heavy hard-cover series, "have you read it?"

he'll shake his head, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear to fake getting a better look, before replying, "nope. any idea who it's from?"

you do the same, but spread a wide smile on your face. "honestly, i'm flattered. i didn't think anyone paid attention to me like that. they should spend more time looking at you."

"it's the red hair isn't it?" he jokes back and you'll giggle, a sound that's prettier than the chime of the bell on the top of your door.

the weeks continue on, the look of delight on your face a welcoming sight every time he comes in. he listens intently when you ramble about your admirer, the newest book you got, and more importantly, how it makes you feel.

he decides to step his game up, adding in little trinkets and confectionary with each book drop off. he thinks you have no clue, in fact, he's so confident you don't that he even starts leaving handwritten notes within them. but you are no fool, there's no one else you've ever spoken to about the intricacies of your own heart. no one else knows which stories captivate you the most. only yone.

"another book i see," he hums, taking a sip from his coffee and missing the glint in your eye when he asks. "still no clue who it's from right?"

"y'know," you say, taking a seat across from him. "actually, i think i have a little bit of an idea."

"oh... really?" he answers, trying his best to maintain eye-contact.

you nod again, "mhm." a small, yet shy smile on painted on your features, but you also struggle to make eye-contact, the sudden weight of your confession looming over you.

there's an uncomfortable silence that drapes over the two of you, or at least, yone thinks there is. he opens his mouth to apologize, so clear that he's been caught, but you cut him off.

"or actually, maybe, i know nothing at all." you say, quickly getting up and gathering up your things. maybe you'd like things to stay like this for a while, it's comfortable and cozy. "sorry about that."

"huh? oh no, don't-"

"would you like to go on a date sometime?" you interrupt again, clammy hands holding the book up to your chest.

for a moment, yone just stares at you. knowing that if things goes well, ezreal and kayn are definitely not letting him live this down. he can hear them now, exclaiming, "what do you mean you were too scared to ask them out on a date?! so uncool yone."

he also knows that letting you in means that you'll get hounded by them too, but you'll deal with it when you get there... if you get there. and yone decides that he's okay with that.

"sure," he grins, taking one of your hands in his. "i'd love to."

#heartsteel yone #heartsteel x reader #yone x reader #league of legends x reader #heartsteel fluff #league of legends fluff #wtf do i tag this as #pibby writing #ok logging off bc i need to do hw fr

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cryoculus · 2 years ago

Text

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin.

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that.

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness.

02.

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester.

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time.

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture.

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red.

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao.

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day.

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before.

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do.

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists.

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke.

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater.

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.”

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him.

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?”

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein.

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!”

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much.

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05.

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being.

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest.

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations.

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later.

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks.

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie.

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.”

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06.

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year.

But you let him in anyway.

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years.

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you?

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with.

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you?

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up.

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…”

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you?

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it.

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him.

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long.

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago.

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh.

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love.

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel.

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor.

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all.

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work.

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you.

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end.

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares.

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ?

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist.

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems.

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.”

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao.

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception.

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.”

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at.

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin xiao #xiao fanfic #xiao smut #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

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